stuff jen says: Feb. 2: Sean’s 22?

Feb. 2: Sean’s 22?

Today marks my little nephew’s 22nd birthday. How can he be that old already? Seems like just a little while ago I was running around sharing the news of his arrival with a bunch of people that didn’t even know my sister. I’m pretty sure they thought I was nuts. I guess I haven’t disappointed…

I think Kathy did a great job birthing her kids on significant dates. Sean’s birthday, of course, is on Groundhog Day, but a date like 2/2 is almost impossible to forget. Stephen’s birthday is April 15, tax day. I can hardly remember my own kids’ birthdays, but I never forget my nephews’.

One of the birthday greetings Sean received today:

Happy birthday, big guy! I hope you get all the crap you could ever hope for.

3 comments:

AnonymousFebruary 2, 2009 at 7:07:00 PM PST
Sean spent his day sleeping, to get ready for his night shift tonight. I've spoken to him, wanting to verify he still didn't want any treats for his crew at work. "NO, MOM!!" Basically, I'm a room mother without a desk to set my cupcakes. On the upside, 22 years ago I got the best gift in the world and I'm still amazed when I see the wonderful young man he's become. Not such a bad job yourself, Auntie Zen.
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AnonymousFebruary 2, 2009 at 11:58:00 PM PST
Congrats on the little groundhog baby! They're looking forward to a lifetime of "hey! did you see your shadow?"

Aren't someecards SO, SO awesome?! My best friend and I send them too each other all the time.
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All Rileyed UpJune 27, 2011 at 11:37:00 AM PDT
Congrats on the little groundhog baby! They're looking forward to a lifetime of "hey! did you see your shadow?"

Aren't someecards SO, SO awesome?! My best friend and I send them too each other all the time.
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facts of jen's life

So, who do you think you are? I think I’m Jen. People who don’t know me sometimes call me Jenny. That’s weird.

Tell me about yourself. I was born a small black child, and am now a grown-up, or at least my kids think I am. I’m in my mid-40s and live in the ‘burbs of Portland, Oregon. My husband is Victor, and my kids are Katie and Jack. Read this if you want the real and very long scoop.

Tell me things people might not know about you. I am an ordained minister and can perform marriages. Why no one has asked me to do this for them yet, I do not know. ● At the request of my Disney-hating friend Ed, I got mouse ears embroidered with the name “Satan” and I didn’t even get kicked out of Disneyland. It’s quite possibly the ballsiest thing I’ve ever done. ● I “helped” write this book, published in 2012: You Take it From Here, by Pamela Ribon. My name is in the back, and I’m still geeking out about it. ● I recorded a song in a studio in 1994 and it got local radio play for a few months. At least two times I turned on the radio in the car and my song was playing at that moment—very cool. ● I nearly died from a zit in 1986. I am not making this up. ● Victor and I once appeared on The Tonight Show. Really. If you can find a VCR, I’ll show you the tape.

I read some of your posts and I think you might be an alcoholic. I drink way less than I write about drinking. If I ever STOP talking about booze, then it’ll be time for an intervention.

What do you love? Books. Coffee. Fonts. Broadway musicals. San Francisco. Bacon. Rum. Law & Order. Naps. Butter. Home. Crack cocaine. iDevices. Words. Disney vacations. You.

If you could punch anything or anyone in the face, what/who would it be? Cancer. I was diagnosed with lymphoma in November 2009. I kicked its big fat ugly ass and am in remission now. ● Comic Sans. ● People who won’t take responsibility for their problems—the “I didn’t do anything to deserve this!” attitude. Look in the mirror. That’s who to blame. ● Celebrities who are famous for no reason. Y’know, if we stop looking, they’ll go away... ● Bad grammar and spelling and the dummies who use it.

You seem bitter. Did someone piss in your Cheerios? I’m not bitter. I think unicorns-and-rainbows stuff isn’t very interesting to read, so I tend not to write that way. But also, now you’re being kind of a jackhole.

It seems like no one ever comments on your blog posts. Why is that? Most people comment on the Facebook links. I don’t know why.

What if I want to tell you something? Two ways to reach me: leave a comment on a post, or e-mail me at jenniferTAKETHISPARTOUTmanullang at gmail-dot-com.

Feb. 2: Sean’s 22?

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