Thursday?! but it was just Wednesday 10 minutes ago!

This is me right now:



and the only reason I'm telling you this is because Bridget Jones: Edge Of Reason Failed to download properly... turning my Wednesday night of back to back Bridg-J (like Tahr-jhay) into a blog.

What? No, it isn't available to watch instantly on Netflix- I guess they want letter carriers to have a purpose other that delivering coupons and my post cards.

So I am here, kind of relieved BJ:EOR is unavailable (for the time being) because I don't want to stay up super late... sure, I ate two (small) bowls of ice cream a few hours ago and I am scared of getting hungry again, but we have to face our fears or we don't grow.

I'm not talking about my "waistline" growing (eeew!). I am talking about as an intelligent being- like Bridget Jones- she journals- JUST LIKE ME! and she is touted about the movie and hefty girl who weighs ____, JUST LIKE ME. I'm okay, but where is my Mark Darcy?!(even Hugh Grant would be alright)

He may be in Paris? Sure. I am moving there in March, but what would a relationship be like now that I have a computer? Probably a distraction... Look here's me in Paris:



Couldn't do that with some man in my bed. I think that I'm like Bridget, but better because I am totally comfortable with my... hmmm... hey! Look at that moose!

Abbey, you look like Fergie!

I don't consider myself a feminist. I don't like what it's become... a woman who insists on making herself unattractive and uptight about everything in the name of "feminism". The hollow shells of a stereo-type that are supposed to represent my empowerment.

Maybe I got off on a bit of a rant there. Sorry... let me put on some lipstick. better.


I make light of my gender, mostly because I don't identify with anybody anymore... wish I could be a turtle, really. However, nothing makes me feel more connected to both lips of the labia than reading Top 40 lyrics.



"That girl's too hot
Too hot she's too hot
Too hot for her top
Too hot she's too hot
Too hot for her shirt
Too hot for her skirt
Too hot for her clothes
Too hot for wardrobe

So go just take it off, take it off, take it off,
take it off, take it off, take it off,
just take it off, take it off, take it off,
take it off, take it off, (Lookie lookie lookie lookie)"



Parenthetical "lookie" to the third degree paired with "too hot for wardrobe" (clearly singular, like the cave men days) This is the Black Eyed Peas, a band that traded respect for costumes and Fergie. They are now educating a nation of young dummies.

It's not threatening- it's hilarious. The majority of this country is like "yeah, turn it up!" and girls are like "I'm hot if I take it off... if I take it off, it will be like Dad never left (or left my vagina alone)" and guys are all like "you don't respect yourself because your dad fucked you- I bet you are a crazy slut- hot!" and, guys also say: "have you heard the new Black Eyed Peas- It's awesome- suck on this dick, I dipped it in roofeeez!"

So, this is the world... most girls are molested (not me) and Clear Channel is really paving the way for some talent. I seriously hope that the popular music world changes- at least before I'm too old to suck a famous guy's dick. standards.

Murder Me Not

Seeing all these beautiful strangers on Facebook with their beautiful pictures helps me to see why people kill.
"When I see her, Audrey doesn't even acknowledge me, but I swear she's looking right at me in her pictures... she knows I love that blouse! I will MAKE her watch a movie with me!"



Sometimes, I think that people want to murder me, but I am too smart and slick. I use coconut oil on my skin so bad guys can't keep a grip and good guys can't get enough. I will tell you when the latter happens... thus far, it has only attracted young, Jimmy Buffet types. [insert "penis"colada pun]

Also, I'm too damn smart. Most murder victims are straight dummies.



Sometimes, I wish someone would just try and bring me bodily harm (rape joke) so I could go all Crouching Tiger and shit. I have never taken martial arts, but I am very intuitive and flexible.

Maybe I shouldn't say that I spend energy getting into imaginary fights with three big muthah fuckahs... and I really wont say that all the people who, I feel, have ever slighted me are there to witness it (ALL OF THEM). Brings up too many plot holes for my pragmatic mind (even my naughty fantasies are about catching my bus on time and not being bothered at all- bother just gets in the way [insert pic of vag and audio clip of dried leaves being crushed under the weight of a firm step]).

BACK TO GAPS IN PLOT:

What are they all doing there? Why am I wearing head-to-toe black latex? Am I married yet?

I am reasonable and so I will reason that:

a) they all follow my success and simultaneously came around to win favor.

b) I was at a photo shoot.

c) a lot.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you are a prospective employer, I encourage you to recognize that my tongue is so embedded in my cheek that I can't even talk anymore- just type... so send me any further questions via e mail.

Regards,
Abbey

Deer Poop

I am living in Carbondale, Colorado for the next few weeks. Carbondale actually stands for "deer poop"... things we didn't know- ey? And Carbodale is all over the ground out here! I think there is more Carbondale than grass.

Deer poop looks like this:



I have only been here a day and deer are already like homeless people to me. "Stop shitting on my side-walk, Joe!"

(Joe was a homeless fellow who shit on my block a lot in San Francisco.)

Joe's poop looked like this:



I don't really know what Joe's name was, and come to think of it, his poop really looked like this:



Alright. I guess it is nice that deer don't leer or smell violent... in fact, they are pretty pleasant- except for:



I guess it could be worse:

Oh Today

Oh today.

Today is a Thursday... Or am I not supposed to say that? I don't have a computer yet, but I do have, in my possession, an iPod touch. It isn't mine, but I'm getting my own Saturday. I won't bore you with the details- you came to be inspired or laugh, maybe you just came to judge me... Which on the iPod touch, when typing "me" it got real close to being entered as "ms" (my NY resolution is to lose weight in my fingers), "judging MS" would have made you an even bigger asshole than you were when you were just judging me... I mean, to other people. Not to me, in my book, me-judging is almost the most offensive thing in the world, next to old people kissing- EEW!

When I turn old (40), I won't kiss my husband... Maybe not even my kids because of how hideous I stand to look doing it. Heck, the sight could just about give you MS! What's MS?

No time now- I have to talk about humanitarianism.

No kissing and no pictures as soon as I turn 40. That's going to be a hard sell to the paparazzi, who will no doubt be hounding me by then (just look at this talent), but I'm sure the world is only getting more civilized, so probably won't have to worry about that or even try to live by example- this stuff just happens... Usually after a good rain shower. I was going to edit this last sentence to be less rambly, but fuck it! I'm blogging on an iPod touch. 

Right now this is just a "note", but soon it will be an anecdote to the absurdity of your life. Is that hard to read, maybe it doesn't go down well. The truth never does. Hey, I'm just going to undermine the lives of people who read this far into one of my "stories". This seems like a good way to get ahead... Or "some head" if I were a man (I'm so close), but seeing as my balls haven't housed themselves on the outside of me in a leathery satchel called a "scrotum", I can only be considered a woman with too much confidence. This is why I'm single, in case you were wondering (everyone does). Back to scrotums; it's my belief that if linguists were coming up for the name today, they would have called the skin around the reproductive nest egg on the male anatomy "Angelina Jolie's Lips". That's my snarky celebrity bit... I don't really feel that way, but I haven't really felt since childhood. I also think that a scrotum looks like an old person's neck... Which is why watching Something's Got To Give (starring Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson- as two old people kissing) is like watching a boxing match between nut sacks.

Have a great Christmas or whatever.

Abbey Jordan: Professional Reference

Oh hey Internet, good to see you're still applicable... I mean I never doubted you. What?! I didn't- I just thought with Y2K and all, you'd end up being a vehicle for the return of Jesus, but Facebook is good too... and I don't really follow Jesus anymore, wait! Is he on Twitter?! I don't even Tweeter, honestly didn't think it would last, like employment in my early twenties, but aren't I surprised?!

I am.

I have found myself to be in a position as a good employee and a valuable addition to the companies I work for. I work for families and it's perfect... sure, Starbucks didn't get me, but a human does... especially when they are young enough to feel joy still. Sigh, we all miss it, don't we? Rhetorical, of course we don't! Joy is in achievement and we're so busy hoarding accomplishment our closets are pouring over with skeletons.

Not mine.

I have personally embarrassed and alienated myself at any opportunity given, so that the only skeletons that emerge from my closet (embarrassments) are when you can't see my skeleton anymore! Yep, big Abbey is starving because fit Abbey tries to find affection outside confection. I'm still looking, so we're all a little famished over here at Camp Abbsies, but some news fills us more than others... like when our friend is job searching and uses us as a professional reference.

This ACTUALLY happened and I'm expecting a call ANY SECOND now from L'Occitaine. It's a smell good company, but it's also a place in France. They are calling ME for a REFERENCE! I haven't done this before, but I imagine I just have to come clean about all the jobs I lost. Luckily I am learning French, so I can tell them about it in a broken version of a language they probably don't speak anyway. Furthermore, she put me down as a "comedy colleague", so I should probably try to be funny at every turn!

**** example ****

THE MANAGEMENT: So, Abbey, how would...

ME: [interrupting] Don't wear it out!

THE MANAGEMENT: What?

ME: Oh sure... ly. Hey, that guy died! ce mec est
mort!

THE MANAGEMENT: Thanks for your time.

ME: Derien!!!

****** end ******

Now I know how Robert Downey Jr. felt when he finally got due respect with Iron Man. I am a professional reference! I can't wait to be the BEST professional reference on the application. It's probably going to take some extra congeniality because this girl knows some stuffy fucking people (she's a law student)

****** example ******

THE MANAGEMENT: Good day Ms. Jordan, how do you do?

ME: Regards, I am well, however perplexed as to whom you might be.

THE MANAGEMENT: My name is Reginald Cologne and I am ringing on behalf of a Comedy Colleague.

ME: Affirmative, [insert researched political bit here] how can I help you Reginald?

THE MANAGEMENT: You are the most articulate reference we've called thus far!

ME: Merci beaucoup! Je Parle Francais aussi!

****** end ********

So any minute I should be getting a fax, inviting me to answer their telephone call. I bought a fax machine and land line for this occasion and I can't wait! I also am having business cards printed that read:

ABBEY JORDAN
Professional Reference
www.facebook.com/abbsiessauce

!!!

Namaste- Away From Me Right Now!

Oh boysies has it been a while (rhetorical). Mama (me) will write more when she gets her new laptop (by 2012!)... until then...

I do yoga by donation at a place here in San Francisco. I highly recommend this space to people who want to go to yoga, but are on a budget. However, I see where yoga has just turned into a form of Jesus on the plate of a cynical public, hungry for some authenticity and a little less "OM" (or horse breath). I felt like Carrie Bradshaw just then.

I go to yoga and have been for ten years... I even participated in a teacher training a few years back... did I decide to teach? No, because yoga isn't salvation (also I didn't pay in full, so was never really certified) and the people in it are no better (energy wise) than the Greyhound Bus Stop half way between here and the next Clan Rally. People who go into something like Yoga believing that breathing extra loud will give them some relief to what they're trying to drown out are really just like the homeless people they secretly despise- loud and yucky! This has been a huge statement lately- people SCREAM BREATHING. I bring my destructive friends so their back can get stretched and that they may feel the endorphins released by having a supple, stretched body instead of an 8-ball. After most classes lately, I know they are going right back to sauce and spice and I'm not talking Paneer, Slumdog!

I love an instructor who mostly keeps his or her mouth shut (not likely to happen with most women instructors, I know). Just guide the class and stop telling the same tired jokes you tell every class to help people escape from their discomfort. Stop trying to make this "better" for people- IT ISN'T! It isn't good for people, that's why we're here (yoga) and no amount of New-Age-bull-shit-chuckle jargon is going to make the experience more "authentic".

I suppose this is a bit of a rant, but I farted in yoga once... HA! Look- a funny little fart joke. I love going to yoga, but if I wanted to go to a comedy open mic- I would.... uhhhh, oh yeah. I go to open mics about 6 times a week, so NAMASTE away from the jokes and let me listen to my own breath for a moment. THAT is why I am here... and that is what experience I hope my friends have. Just be quiet and stop encouraging the entire class to express their breath with loud sighs and horse mouth... happy babies are quiet babies, so let's stop pretending they need to lion's breathe in a higher octave to get back to innocence.

Alright, Mama (me) is off to a comedy mic to tune out the same fucking jokes I always hear from people I should probably not like as much as I do and hopefully cultivate something new for myself.

xoxox

Abbey