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Hats for the Homeless

I knit beanie hats in my spare time. I usually just put them in the charity boxes we give to Salvation Army every 4 months or so. But on nextdoor. com the other day, someone was giving away some old baseball caps, and wanted to know if someone wanted them. A lady said she’d like them as she does homeless outreach, and it would give them something to help keep their heads warm. Well I had 37 knitted caps, so I messaged her asking if she would like them as well. She just came by and picked them up, and as we were talking, I told her how I make them to basically keep me occupied, so she said if I ever had some and wanted to donate them, she’d be happy to take them, AND that if I needed yarn to make more, she could get it to me through donations! I don’t need yarn as my friend Cameron gave me a ton of it a while back (which is what all of those hats were made from), but that’s good to know.
I’m helping!
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Donald Trump Is a Puerto Rican boy band?

Not exactly.  Stick with me on this one.

If you are my age or older, you may or may not remember the Puerto Rican boy band, Menudo.  Their most famous former member is Ricky Martin (if you don’t know who he is, I can’t help you).  Menudo showed up in the 70’s and lasted I believe into the 90’s, changing their image and name to M.D.O. (they may still be around, I have no idea).  They way they kept their staying power was that once they turned 16, they had to leave.  It was in their contract.  They were replaced by some 12 or 13-year-old.  Out with the old, in with the new.

Now…onto Trump.
He married Ivana when she was 28.  They were together for 15 years, from 1977 – 1991.  They divorced when she was 42.  She is 68 now.
He then moved on to Marla Maples.  That was a hot mess from the beginning.  He married her when she was 30, and they were married for only 6 years, from 1993 – 1999.  She is 53 now.
And finally, Melania.  He married her when she was 35.  They’ve been married for 12 years (so far), they got married in 2005.  She is 47 now.  Anyone else wondering when he’s going to trade her in for a younger model?  He seems to prefer late 20’s to early 30’s, and tossing them in their 40’s (except for hot mess Marla).  Out with the old in with the new.

There are also whispers that Melania married Trump to get her citizenship.  I DO NOT know if this is true, I know very little about her.  She had permanent U.S. residency in 2001, and became a citizen in 2005.  I don’t know if it was before, after, or because of her marriage to Trump.
But if it was…I wonder if she ever looks at the mess her husband has made and thinks, “I should have gone back to Slovenia and worked at Dairy Queen.  It would be better than this clusterfuck.”
I’ve also heard that she is living in their New York penthouse while the Cheeto lives in the White House.  I wonder what she does there, all by herself.  When I was in school, when the rich kids parents went out of town for a weekend, they would throw a party.  Maybe Melania is in the penthouse throwing keggers.  Picture her in that weird blue outfit she wore at the swearing in ceremony doing keg stands.  You’re welcome.

So I’m sure Trump would love to know that I equate him with a Hispanic boy band, since he loves Hispanics so much.

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Rain and More Rain

I know, I’ve been MIA for a bit.  But I have an excuse.  Not a GOOD one, mind you.

I’m blaming the rain.

After something like 10 years of drought here in Northern California, we have been getting hammered.  We have gotten so much rain this season that we are officially out of the drought.  Yet, it keeps falling.  Mother Nature is mad at our whining, I suppose.  I have a few friends who live in the mountains, and one hasn’t really been able to leave his house for something like a week.  At least he can work from home, so he won’t lose his job.
And that right there amuses me.  They tell us there’s pouring rain, there’s flooding, there’s 50 mph winds, don’t leave your house if you don’t have to…..but if you want to keep your crap job ringing up groceries or whatever, you need to get to work.  We had flooding over in Niles Canyon last night, and the friggin’ CHP was saying not to go out if you could help it.  All I could think was, “Somewhere, there is a boss nice and warm in his house threatening to fire his employees if they don’t show up for work.”

But along with the gray and cloudy crappy weather, I have a gray and cloudy disposition.  I have Seasonal Affective Disorder.  The one thing I found out that helped it years ago was to go into a tanning bed for 5 minutes once a week.  However, there is only one tanning salon in town, and it’s the one I was fired from.  Not to worry, he tried to decline my unemployment, and we went to court over it.  Yeah, I won that case.  But I doubt I’d be welcomed back to the shop with open arms!

As far as flooding goes, although we only live about 100 yards from a creek, it’s REALLY deep.  I’d say the creek bed is a good 50 feet down, and is about 10 feet full.  Plus it flows out to the Bay, so we’re good.  But running to a sandwich shop nearby yesterday, we checked out the creek, as there’s a bridge going over it.  I have never seen that much water in there.  Every summer, there is a creek cleanup, as there is never any water in there.  I don’t know if they’ll be able to do it this year!

So my absence isn’t my fault.  It’s the weather.  Nature is a mother.

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Posted in random

Killer Stoves and Cleavage Coolers

The stove/oven combo at the place I live is really unusual.  It’s not all one thing.  There is a stove top with four burners, but the oven is NEXT to it, set into the wall.  We actually like this set up, we don’t have to bend over to get things out, and it’s especially good for when we cook anything heavy, like when we cook turkey on Christmas.

But I think our stove top is trying to kill us.

There was the day when one of the burners burst into flame.  And when I say that, I mean it BURST, LOUDLY and turned into a Roman candle for about 30 seconds.  The mom unit was trapped in the kitchen, I was trying to figure out how to get her out while simultaneously trying to remember if we had baking soda (electric stoves suck), and both of us were screaming.  I also remember being really happy that our renter’s insurance was paid up.  Then, it just stopped.  They came and replaced said burner, but even the repair guy couldn’t explain why our stove wanted to kill us.

Then some burners would randomly stop working….and then just start again.  The repair guy came about 3 months back, and replaced the little electrical box under one of the dials, telling us that should take care of it.  Nope.  Just a few days ago, I put the kettle on to make tea and had a seat on the couch.  It’s a whistling kettle (belonged to my late uncle and I love it), so I never worry about forgetting it.  I got involved with my TV program, and 10 minutes later, realized that my kettle never started whistling.  Had I turned on the wrong burner?
Going into the kitchen, I saw that I had the right burner on (the large right front one), but nothing was happening, it was stone cold.  Then we realized the back rear left one (also a large one) wasn’t working as well.  So another call to the management who called out the repair guy again.

I don’t know about you, but I kind of hate having repair people in my house.  There is no reason, I’m just misanthropic.  I am kind of fascinated by most of the stuff they do, but the stove guy grates on me.  The worst part is that whoever designed these apartments decided that the best place to put the breaker box was right behind my bedroom door.  So when he has to turn the electricity off/on (and he has to because it’s an electric stove and he’s fiddling with the wires), he has to go in and out.  Right next to the door is a large bookshelf I refer to as “my altar”.  I have stuff on there that means something to me.  I have a tiara a boyfriend got me to wear for my birthday several years ago, an empty mint tin that has a Ouija board design on the outside, a strand of green Mardi Gras beads that hang down to my knees given to me way back in 2009, and so on.  Well, the last time he went in and out of my room, he had a bid stupid smile.  It wasn’t until he left that I went in and looked around….what was so funny?  That’s when I realized what it might be.
My bodice cooler from Ren Faire.
I’ve attached a photo below of a vendor with several of them, for those of you who don’t know what they are.
See, Ren Faire tends to be really hot.  Like, REALLY HOT (at least around these parts).  So a bodice chiller is meant to be placed between the breasts and filled with ice, and it helps keep you cool.  Last time I went to faire a few years ago, I bought one, but I bought an “unusual” one.  Instead of it having a normal “pointy” end, the end is shaped….like a penis.
And it’s green.
Now when I bought it, I thought it was funny and clever.  But now it’s only my alter with its penis end pointing up to the ceiling.
It looks like I have a glass dildo that I am proudly displaying, and yes, it’s fairly obvious, sitting on my shelf in all it’s green penile glory.

So basically, if the stove ever craps out again, we will just have to move.

faire182x

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My Theory About the T. Rex

I have a very good theory about how the dinosaurs went extinct, and specifically the T. Rex.

So the world is full of dinos, and they’re just doing their thing, dino-ing about.  There were big ones, like the Argentinosaurs, and little guys, like the Compsognathus.  Meat eaters, and plant eaters.  Land dwellers, water dwellers, and ones that flew in the sky.  And then there was the bully.

The T. Rex.

Rex was a big bully.  Like most bullies, it was because he had bad feelings about himself.  He was embarrassed by his little baby arms.  When he was young, the other dinos probably made fun of him, so he decided he would make them all pay!  He was a mean bully, beating up, hunting, and eating other dinos, even when they did nothing to him.
He was kind of an asshole.

As he was such a bully, he had no friends, which made him angrier and more of a bully….really, it was a vicious cycle.

So he goes around, picking on dinos and making them afraid of him.  Until one day…..one day, he falls into a tar pit.

With his little baby arms, he can’t pull himself out!  This is BAD.  He is in real trouble.  Well, a triceratops happens by.  So he calls out to it.
“Hey!  Triceratops!  I’m stuck!  Come down here and help me out!”
Well Triceratops remembers what an ass Rex was to her, he called her “stupid spiky plate head” and laughed.  “Why should I help you?”
“Come on, Cera.  I’m your friend!”
“No, you called me a stupid spiky plate head.  Why would you want help from a stupid spiky plate head like me?”
“I was only KIDDING!”

Triceratops looks around, and sees an Apatosaurus not too far away and calls out to it.  “Pat!  HEY PAT!  Come here!  You’ve gotta see this!”
So Pat comes over, looks down in the tar pit at Rex….and starts LAUGHING.  Rex gets mad.  “Pat!  Come on now!  This isn’t funny!  Help me out of here!  I’m warning you!”
“Oh really?” says Pat.  “What are you gonna do, Baby Arms?”  Pat then calls a bunch of other dinosaurs over.
They all point and laugh at this big bully stuck in the tar pits, unable to pull himself out with his wee baby arms.  Maybe they even threw rotten tomatoes at him, like you see on old cartoons.  The pterodactyls probably pooped on him and laughed.

Finally Cory (Corythosaurus) took pity on Rex.  Even though Rex had once called Cory “duck face mohawk head” he decides to help him.  So he backs down a bit into the pit and waves his tail to Rex for him to grab, and he does.  Unfortunately, Rex is almost twice as heavy as Cory, and instead of Cory pulling Rex out, Rex ends up pulling Cory in.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

Surely somebody tried to pull Cory out, but Rex wasn’t about to let go.  Besides, tar is very sticky.  One by one, as they tried to save their friends, the dinosaurs got pulled into the tar pits and they all died.

I am 100% sure that’s what happened.

trex

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The Couch Trip

The mom unit and I have decided to buy a new couch.  We only have a small love seat and recliner at the moment, and when my brother visits with his sons, it gets quite crowded.  You can squeeze three people on the love seat, but it’s an uncomfortable place to sit anyway.  The seat cushions are not very firm, plus it’s quite low to the ground.  Sitting on there for any length of time hurts my back (I’m so old).
The first couch we had when I was growing up was secondhand and lasted until we moved.  Then, my grandparents lived with us, so we had their couch.  My dad worked as a furniture upholsterer, so we usually got stuff that was second-hand.  Couches that had been dropped off to get recovered, and never picked up, so we would just have to pay for the recover job.  Nowadays, it seems that most stuff is throwaway.  I saw an old episode of “I Love Lucy” where she remarked that she had knocked the toaster off of the counter, so it was sent out for repair.  These days, we just toss it and buy a new one, which is sad.  It’s not cost-effective to fix things anymore.  Why pay $50 to get a lamp fixed when you can buy a new one at Target for half of that?
Well we need a new couch, a GOOD one.  So we headed to the furniture store in town.  This place has been in business for probably 50 years or more.  We had looked online, but looking at a picture of a couch and actually sitting your ass down on one are two different things.  The lady was very nice and helpful, even though we told her we were looking to get a new one “sometime this year” (meaning after we get our tax refund), not today.  We found a few options we liked, but damn the prices!
We got our little love seat from a place called Jennifer Convertibles.  It opens into a full-sized bed (important at the time, as that was where I was sleeping), and cost something like $299, with free delivery.
These sofas started at $800 and the last one we looked at was $1800!  We are going to get it there, but we already had the “we can’t spend more than $1000” discussion.  We weren’t prepared for that sticker shock, that’s for sure.  Luckily, since we don’t need a sleeper, that not only keeps the price down, but opens our options.  We even saw one that guaranteed it’s cushions for ten years!
The one we have with the uncomfortable, non-reversible cushions came in one color: buff.  So any tiny drip has shown up on it, plus it this velour type fabric, that can’t be scotch guarded.  We have already decided that whatever we get, it will be dark fabric that can be scotch guarded!

So hopefully by April, we will have a nice, new couch.  Not a love seat that I can’t nap on, full of stained, uncomfortable cushions.  We will get that best sofa money can buy….as long as it’s less than $1000!

Ever suffered from sticker shock like that?

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Who I am and why I’m here…..

I’d like to think that most of you here know me already.  I’ve gone by other names in the past: Naughty Nightshade (burlesque), Captain Isabella von Pumpernickel (steampunk), etc.  But I’m just Jenni.
As an aspiring writer, I believe in two things:
1) Write what you know
and
2) Write the story you’ve always wanted to read.

Usually, those are two very different things.

As an example: I would love to have a big, epic romance, something that would make Rhett and Scarlett look boring.  I have never had that, so I can’t “write what I know”.  Instead, that falls into the category of writing the story I’ve always wanted to read.
On the other hand, I know more about stocking store shelves than any sane person should, but I sure as hell don’t want to write about THAT!  How boring would that be?  I could write what I know, but I would likely put myself to sleep.  I could, however, write a tale of a girl who stocks store shelves by day, and is a masked crimefighter at night, knocking out criminals by throwing cans of soup at them (on sale, of course).  Actually, that would be pretty funny.  “And one again, the city is safe.  Thanks to the skills of Stockroom Girl and her high velocity cans of Progresso Chicken Noodle soup, on sale this week.”
This will be a place for ramblings, rantings, and maybe even some of the articles I wrote for my college paper.  Who knows.  I want it to be a safe, fun place.  No fighting, no put downs.  Follow me or don’t.
If you choose to stay, I hope you enjoy the ride.f82327156b5b243cd99ae3de77f13942