Deep Fried Jelly Bracelets

It has come to my attention that most people (people I don't know) end up here looking for one of two things. So, in an effort to be the most helpful superjen I can, here you go:

1. How to make deep-friend turkey instructions can be found here and here, the last one includes a recipe for the seasoning.

2. The legend of the jelly bracelet, and what color means what... OK, girls, listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. It doesn't matter what color means what, it doesn't matter what ANYONE tells you. Wear them (if your school lets you) or don't wear them (if they are banned or you don't like them). However, no boy has the power to make you do anything you don't want to do. Repeat after me the girl's ultimate defense against pressure of this type: WhatEVER. That's right, the perfectly timed "whatever" (especially accompanied by rolling eyes) ought to do the trick. Barring that, kick em in the nads. But you didn't hear that from me.

What a Way to Wake Up

I turned on the Today Show this morning to try and motivate myself to get out of bed. Yeah, it's sad, but the most trying part of my day usually happens somewhere between opening my eyes and taking a shower. So... warm... so... comfortable... can't... zzzzzz

This morning, they had a feature about teenagers that wear "jelly" bracelets to school. Apparently, the new urban legend at middle schools is that if a boy breaks off a certain color bracelet, the girl would then have to perform a corresponding ... act. Now, I'm unclear about whether it is supposedly on the boy that breaks it, or just on somebody, but regardless, schools are now banning the bracelets. Here's my question about the whole thing, who is more idiotic?

1. Girls who buy into the whole bracelet thing, which seems to me about as serious as the urban legend when I was in school: If you wear green on Thursday, it means you're horny. Seriously.

2. Schools that buy into the whole bracelet thing and decide to ban them, giving it a lot more attention than it deserves (Hello! It made it on the Today Show!) or

3. The father that they interviewed who claimed, and get this one: It is my daughter's Constitutional Right, her God-given Right, to wear jelly bracelets to school.


And Moses said unto the people, thou shalt have no other bracelets before the jelly bracelets. Or is it Life, Liberty, and the Wearing of Jelly Bracelets? I'm sure our forefathers are now pirouetting in their graves.

A Little Late, But...


I thoroughly enjoyed the bit on the hook hand urban legend story at The Morning News. Yeah, it was for Halloween, so deal. The one by Tobias Seamon was my favorite. A psychotic gleam in his eye, an itch in his armpit. Indeed.

Bicth or Bitch?

When I walked into my office this morning, these words greeted me. They were drawn on one of my tables in permanent marker, and then circled. Now, I'm pretty sure the second spelling is the correct one, but I had no idea how someone had gotten into my locked office and left me a multiple choice like this one.

As it turns out, the building hired a painting crew to paint doorframes that needed touching up. The painter assigned to the job had a death in the family, and had to bring his children with him so they could leave directly from here to go to the funeral. It is what happened next that puzzles all of us here. Apparently he unlocked every door in the building and then let his children run amok - they dumped out wastepaper baskets, dumped the hole punch into the copy machine, erased our docket board, wrote on my desk, left candy wrappers all over the place... it was basically Lord of the Office Flies in here.

So, the painting company has apologized and will be cleaning off the exercise in profanity. My suggestion was to shackle the children to the desk and have them clean it off, but then again, we don't really want them back here THAT badly.

WHAT WAS THAT???

We stayed up far too late last night, victims of a re-run of the X Files that neither one of us had seen before. We absolutely had to see how it ended. Finally, it was over and we drifted off to sleep.

In my dream, I was being chased by something that I couldn't see. Running like hell, I heard it make a loud noise, but I could tell the noise was fairly far away from me. It moved around a bit, but then got louder and louder until I knew it was right next to me. Abandoning any hope of escape, I struck out hoping to defend myself against this formless noise...

I woke up when my arm hit something, and then realized it was Ryan. Not fully awake and still pretty freaked out from my dream, I grabbed his hand. It was at this point that I realized I COULD STILL HEAR THE NOISE. I grabbed his hand tighter and shut my eyes, wondering if this was one of those dream-within-a-dream things, since the noise had stopped. Then I heard the noise go streaking up the stairs, and realized it was the stupid cat.

So, at 3:30 in the morning, I got out of bed, fully awake now, and headed up the stairs to see how the cat could be making so much noise. I crouched down at the top of the stairs, and looked for him under the futon. He came slinking out from behind it with a shopping bag attached to his head. He had somehow managed to slip his head into one of the handles on a paper shopping bag, and had been running around, trying to dislodge it. Also chasing me around in my dream, but I guess I can't really blame him for that. I got it off his head and threw it away - he sat in the middle of the floor making soft wheezing noises while I tried to tell him everything was OK. There is still some question in my mind as to who was more freaked out by the whole experience.

Battening

North Carolina is really a lovely place to live. It's an easy drive to both the beach and the mountains, there are trees and greenery all over the place, the winters are mild, there is air conditioning for the summers, etc. etc. Every so often, Mother Nature reminds us that we have to pay a toll for all this. The ice storm last winter was one such toll - people lost a bunch of trees, which led to a loss of power, water, and phone service. Now, we have a hurricane sitting off the coast. We have had so much rainfall this summer that our trees are once again turning from things of beauty into weapons against our power lines, phone lines, and roofs.

Hurricanes, for the most part, are very polite. They usually move at about 10 miles per hour, giving everybody plenty of warning. In contrast, for example, tornadoes are unbelievably rude. I like to think that's why we don't get as many tornadoes here in the South. The hurricane is much more gentile and takes its own sweet time about doing things, just like your typical native southerner. Hurricanes do tend to pit one state against another, however. Here in North Carolina we focus our telepathy at the hurricane and urge it to hit Florida, maybe, or on up into Maryland, if you please. Those bastards in Virginia haven't gotten their fair share of bad weather! Come on, give us a break.

I have only seen three hurricanes since moving here. Bonnie was the first one, and when the people at work told me there was a hurricane coming I left work and went home in a hurry, figuring that it was going to hit any minute. See, Wisconsin is the land of tornadoes, and I figured it was one of those rude-type storms. When I got home, Ryan said we had better go to the store and prepare, and I said... but there's a hurricane coming! We can't go outside! Yeah, he laughed. Anyway, Bonnie was the "good" kind of hurricane - the kind that blows like hell and you can sit inside and watch the trees turn sideways and the rain come down like somebody turned on a faucet... but nothing flooded and the trees were spared for the most part.

We managed to move away from the coast for the next two, Denis and Floyd. However, we moved in with a friend in his BASEMENT apartment. My friends, there is a very good reason why there are hardly any basements in North Carolina. I woke up one morning, swung my feet over the side of the bed and they went splash. What the... oh crap! The whole apartment flooded during Denis, and again during Floyd. Raleigh as a whole was spared, though. We are hoping that Isabel sees fit to behave and not toss too many trees around. The psychology here is to be prepared, since that will definitely make the hurricane not hit us at all. Nothing like a stockpile of expensive batteries to ward off Mother Nature, after all.

Take Them Bowling

We rented Bowling for Columbine this week-end, and I would like to personally deliver it to each of your houses and watch it with you. Barring that, I guess I will just recommend that you rent it. We will probably end up buying it - I for one would like to watch it again. To blatantly steal a thought from a fictional movie, it makes me want to be a better (wo)man. It was depressing, it was uplifting, it made me laugh, and it made me cry. Who would expect that from a documentary? To some extent, it made me mad that Michael Moore went to the lengths he did in order to try and add some spice to the film - it would have stood on its own if he didn't, for example, track down Dick Clark in Hollywood and try and make him look like an asshole. He has a very meaningful interview with Charlton Heston until he decided that he needed to try and make him look bad. But for all these shortcomings (at least in my opinion), it makes a huge impact on the viewer. I believe it is to the movie's credit that it doesn't try and answer any of the questions it asks. Why are Americans so afraid? Of different races, of crime, of strangers, of the Orange Alert, of any number of things. WHEN PETS ATTACK, tonight on Fox. Now we're supposed to be afraid of our pets?

But I digress. The message I am taking away from the movie is to be involved, and not to buy into a culture of fear that is being preached to us from the media and the government. Also, to try and get other people to watch the movie. Grassroots, people, grassroots.

Billy Whoooofleck??

Not a phone call I would want to get again, really:

Phone: Jennifer?

SuperJen: Yes..

Phone: This is Carol, from [my oncologist]'s office.

[insert sound of heart stopping... here.]

Carol: Hello?

SJ: Yes, hello.

C: [my oncologist] would like you to come back in and have your blood tested again, because your Billy Rubin was low.

SJ: What?? Billy who? I don't know anyone named Billy.

C: Bilirubin, it's an enzyme having to do with liver function.

SJ: Uh-huh.

C: So, he would like you to come in in 2-3 weeks.

SJ: 2-3 weeks. Right.

C: OK so we'll see you then.

[click]

Billy Rubin, that bastard. How could he abandon me in this fashion? So, I went back in and told them that I had flunked my blood test, but had studied really hard and would like to take it again. I got nuthin - people who talk to cancer patients all day have very little sense of humor, actually. Then they stuck me again, and said they would only call me back if it was low again. I think it has been long enough that I'm out of Billy Rubin's woods. And man, no more splitting a bottle of wine before my blood tests. I'm thinking that was the culprit - my liver was trying to send an SOS to the oncologist. Help! Help! I'm being oppressed!

Life's Little Victories

These apparently happen to Keith Knight a lot more frequently than they happen to me, but I'm starting my own list.

#1: You hear an all-to-familiar sampled bass line on the radio

No! It's Vanilla Ice! Dear Lord, make it stop!!

And then it's the original song in all its glory!

Bowie! Mercury! YES!!!

Getting Fuzzy

I invite you to feel the cold wrath that is my spork. Thank you.

In the Fark Personals Forum

jessss: OK, 11-letter word for Star Wars character

LawTalkingGuy: Luuuuuuuuke?

I Have Tried the Ice Cream of the Future

... and it was OK.

I recently signed up to sing the National Anthem at a Carolina Courage soccer game with some people from the choir I belong to off and on. The hubby and I decided that we would spring for the (free) tickets and stay around for the game.

Initially, we thought that getting something to eat would be a challenge. After all, we have stopped eating dairy products so pizza was out, and forget about hot dogs just from a basic self-preservation standpoint. Luckily, one of their sponsors is Nuri-Mond Deli, so we were able to get grilled vegetable wraps and hummus with pita bread. But then, we looked around for something bad. Sporting events are made for dietary sinning. When I saw a big sign for Dippin' Dots, the Ice Cream of the Future, the deal was sealed. I mean, how can you not want to try the ice cream of the freakin' future?

So, we shelled out $3 for a cup. When he started scooping it in, I thought - oh crap, that looks like gravel. Or Nerds, that teeth-breaky candy from the Wonka people. We looked at each other and psychically sent the message, "Oh well, it's only money." But it wasn't bad, really. I think I would describe it as cold, soft, creamy gravel. It's a little plasticy, and of course it's dairy so you won't find me eating it again anytime soon. But damn it, I have tried the ice cream of the future and that is what's important.

Community Property

I just went into the kitchen in my office building to try and microwave my lunch. Someone had already stuck their food in there, though, so I figured I would have to wait until 1) it was done and 2) they came back to actually remove it. I checked the timer, and it said... 7:48???? What? That means that they probably put their food in there for at least eight minutes, if not more. I checked inside - looked like your standard frozen dinner fare to me. Didn't look like, say a frozen steak or other sort of non-instant food that need to be actually *cooked* not just warmed up. I took a trip to the restroom and returned when the timer was at about 5 minutes, and the dinner was actually making little popping noises in there. I'm thinking that when the nuker returns, this plastic food is going to be melted like the plastic container in which it is presented. Mmmm, radioactive.

Duck, duck, ... ew

As with most office buildings, there is a culture of people who smoke that congregate outside. I'm not going to go into how much I dislike running the gauntlet of toxic fumes to get to work. If you cross through the parking lot and go down a hill, there is also a pond that serves as eye candy for the backyards of houses that are nearby. In the summer, the pond gets all sorts of water fowl, ducks and geese and stuff. A few of the ducks were always seen wandering around the parking lot - I don't know if the pond was not good enough for them or what. Maybe it was their exercise regimen. At any rate, the smokers decided that they would feed these ducks while they were giving themselves lung cancer. Now, not only do the ducks permanently reside right next to the building, but they laid their eggs there. There is all manner of duck feces all over the sidewalk, and we see the maintenance guy out there every morning trying to clean it all up so nobody slips and falls. Now there's some real thinking ahead, smokers. If you think about it, picking up smoking and feeding ducks up by the building can be related to missing the thinking ahead genetic material. A very simple cause and effect logic is clearly missing.

Fear the boob

I realized this morning that it has been a little over a year since I found out I had cancer. The great part about that is I forgot about it until it was a year and month - not like I had to sit here and count the days or anything. I like the fact that I have to go see the oncologist but I don't need to go see the oncologist. It so beats the alternative. In other news, my mom told me she is back to getting the mammogram once a year now, like "normal" people. Go mom! Thanks for the tough genetic material!

Neurosa

A friend of ours has recently discovered that her apartment building has an infestation of mice.

We're talking here about people walking in to their apartments and finding 20-25 mice that scatter when the door opens. Residents hear the mice scrambling around in the walls when they are trying to sleep. This was evidently caused by the destruction of a pond and forest in order to build more apartments.

As alarming as that would be to anyone who has to live in the building, our friend has taken this extremely hard. She has been in the building for about ten years, and developed something of a sentimental attachment to the building. It is where she lived with her (now deceased) cat, it is where she has set down her roots, she used to feel more at home there than anywhere else she has ever lived. More than just that, though, the invasion of mice has triggered some sort of rebirth of her entire personality. The neurotic genes that she inherited have been catalyzed, and a superheroine is born. Neurosa, champion over germs, Brillo pad in one hand, Clorox Wipe in the other, she will find and destroy any trace of anything human in the apartment. Everything in the closets and the kitchen will be disinfected or discarded; she will have no mercy. The apartment will smell like a hospital, and no food will be prepared. If the mice win (and the mice will NOT win, Neurosa will not allow that to happen), a suitcase and a car is all that will remain of this former life, this secret identity if you will. Neurosa takes no prisoners and is not sentimental over a bedroom suite (that might have been touched by a mouse with germs). Nor is Neurosa sentimental about the cat's earthly remains - ashes that were to be scattered off the balcony of the apartment when Neurosa moved out now have an undetermined fate. For Neurosa is the conqueror of anything unclean, especially mice, and Neurosa will be damned if her beloved cat's ashes will be devoured by mice.

Coincidence?

Anti-gay sodomy laws declared unconstitutional

Strom Thurmond dies

You be the judge.

Norah

We went to see Norah Jones the other night. Usually when it has been raining for the last umpteen days, the last thing you would want to do would be to go to an outdoor concert. And yet, the weather cooperated and held off raining until we were leaving. In fact, there was a nice breeze during the concert that made it not too muggy and kept the bugs away, at least for the most part.

Norah just rocks. I can usually overlook when a musician is not quite as talented, but has a unique sound, like Anthony Kiedis. He makes their sound work, but hearing him live you can tell he's making it up as he goes along. Or Britney Spears - when you hear her sing live you can tell how much work they have to do to put enough effects on her voice to make it palatable. Not Norah. I didn't have to overlook a thing - every single member of the ensemble was just solid. She sounded just like she does on the radio - just satiny smooth and beautiful. She only did one song (The Nearness of You) from jazz repertoire, and it was killer. I almost wished she had done more along those lines, since everything she sang made me go "aahhhhhhhh." The sort of music where you can just relax and enjoy.

Underachievers

I think the day this country should have realized it was in trouble was the day they replaced the street sign:

MEN WORKING

with

MEN AND EQUIPMENT AHEAD

Yeah, we dropped them off this morning with some stuff, but we are not prepared to guarantee that they're actually working. But they're out there, so... don't hit them with your car. Thanks.

Just a Geek

Yup, borrowed that from Wil Wheaton. I am planning to purchase his new book, by the way, it sounds amazing from the reviews I have read so far. I am just having a major geek moment today, and figured I would share. See, most people that know me know that I am a big geek. No, no, don't argue - underneath this smooth, polished exterior lies the heart of a major geek.

Case in point: I really haven't gotten as much sleep as I would like lately because I have been playing Dark Age of Camelot. Last night, they instituted a patch that lets me instantly level my characters from the "Gosh I wish I could kill that spider" stage to the "RAWR!!! I will put the HURT on you!" stage. Way too much fun, so, y'know, that justifies staying up until 1:30, right? ... oh, I am a geek, and a bit ashamed at my lack of control. They also added a feature where you can check the time from within the game. That has to be a feature requested by parents. Oh yes, we associate regularly with characters in the game whose controlling humans are 13. They are... interesting. Mostly I just get annoyed by the net speak - even though I understand it (I'm a geek, after all), it just doesn't fit in the Medieval period, and they DON'T UNDERSTAND THAT.

Me: "Drakkel, why are you talking so funny?"

Drakkel: "lol what u mean i m happy 2 b here.

*sigh*