stuff jen says: May 22: What?

I have no trouble remembering exactly how much Monopoly money to distribute as banker, even though I haven’t played the game in a hundred years. But ask me where I parked my car this morning and it’ll take me a while to remember.

Our phone number when I was seven years old? Piece. Of. Cake. But the last three times I went to Target I meant to get bathroom cleaner and every time I left with a cart full of stuff and no bathroom cleaner.

I need to remember new things, but the unimportant stuff that’s been tucked away for no reason whatsoever won’t leave. There’s just not room for anything else; my brain is full. This is all kinds of wrong.

I can recite every word of almost any Seinfeld episode, but if I’m not thinking I’ll tell the beagle what a sweet kitty she is.

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.

May 22: What?

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