Brought to you by the Not Ready for Prime Time Writer

Alrighty, I got some news today that makes me a little nervous. I may be on *gulps* television. It is to plug my book, I'm happy to do that, however, I'm not the sort of person that does well in a setting where I get nervous. What if it's live and I fall off the chair, or you know, go off on a Springer-worthy rant that makes the censors flip out and have heart attacks? Can I live with that on my conscience? Ok, yes, censors, maybe, but my mother having a hissy fit? NO! Even more scary is the thought that as of today, my book goes on sale. *blinks*

Another horrific thought just occurred to me. Next month is my family reunion. They're going to be nice to me, I just know it. OMG! What am I gonna do? I won't know how to act!!! OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!

*takes a deep breath*

Ok, I'm calm. Despite the fact that I've mined that particular genetic pool for many of my sly and witty bon mots, angst, and insane sort of scenarios, I do love my family. In the way you love that scary tiger in the cage at the zoo. Yeah, you guessed it, from a distance of at least 12 feet and behind bars. Them, not me. I don't do iron bars, never have, unlike some of my relatives on both sides of the family. Why you ask? Why sugah, I'm way too sneaky to get caught. *winks*

I shot the Monday.. but the weekend is safe from me

Jenna Leigh
Insane in the Membrane

Hi there!! I got my 2nd prize logo from MS. KNIGHT

Angela Knight, that is. Who is oooh so nice. She is, as are many many other authors that I've met on my journey. They've all taught me something, but mostly, they've taught me to be kind and generous.

Now, I have to put this in here so I can put it in my sidebar too. Technical wizardry is my favorite thing.. NOTTTT!

OOHOO!

I got wonderful news today from Far Angel Reviews:

A Five Angel Review!!

This means so much to me because it is the first review of my first book and it says that maybe, just maybe, I do have a touch of talent with words. LOL.

Reviewers have a sometimes thankless job. They slog through a lot of dreck day after day, offering positive comments despite it all. Most are kind, courteous, and intelligent. Of course, the Lady Linda at FAR who it says reviewed my book is a genius with wonderful taste. *grins*

But, it can be hard reading a lot of books, keeping them all straight and then offering up a review that is insightful without giving away end, kind without being a pushover, and above all else, honest. So, hats off to all reviewers, you make us authors happy to face the day, armed with a bit of confidence inspired by your kind words.

To read the full review please click on the link below.






Oh and if I haven't mentioned it before.. WHOOOHOO!! YEAH!


Jenna

PS: That pic has nada to do with this blog message, however, never EVER pass up the chance to look at a pretty set of abs. *sighs*

Small bit of advice.

If you know an elevator is out of order, perhaps when the door is closing on a person INSIDE said elevator is NOT the time to say loud enough for her to hear. "Let her get on it and we'll see if it's not working and THEN we'll call maintainence." *makes a very unhappy face* As the damn doors are closing .. CLOSING I SAY! I being the lazy heifer on the elevator instead of taking the stairs as I know I should, but I don't as my knees suck from 15 years worth of hind catching.. well, to say I freaked out is a bit of an understatement.

The truth would be more along the lines of somewhere in between me stuck to the ceiling of the elevator ala Sylvester the cat when the mice scared him and a lot of nasty words being bellowed while I searched unsuccessfully for my cigarettes. I'd only bought one down with me and had already smoked it. My oral fixation was not going to be indulged during this horrid stay in a tiny little cubicle of steel that could at any minute drop me the admittedly small distance of oh, say 12 feet or so. This would screw up my weekend to say the least.

Old people are evil. I think since they are closer to death, they don't fear it quite so much. They are the ones that decided that I would be the Jennia pig for their little does the elevator work experiment.

Note: The Aerosmith song, Love in an Elevator at no time ran through my brain. 1. because their aint nobody in there with me 2. because, just ew, how unsanitary, imagine all the germs. *gack* 3. I could get fired so why should I do that when I have a perfectly wonderful hubby at home for such a purpose in the comfort and privacy of my own bedroom.

Ok, relative comfort and so so privacy as at any time you can see the cat sticking his paw beneath the door to aggro us. Or the insane teen queen comes to jiggle the door and then screams "EWW GROSS EWW" as she figures out why we have the door locked. She admonishes us, to use something for heaven's sakes as she don't want no siblings before she runs off, noisily. I am so proud to have taught my baby that protection is important if for no other reason than that she will continue to enjoy her only child status within this household and my hubby will continue to enjoy having his testicles where they belong and not in a jar in my mother's jail cell. *blinks*

Where was I? Oh yes, the damn elevator! I am trapped in the frigging thing and I can hear them buzzards out there saying, well, I guess it doesn't work. Lets call maintainence. At least, I think this is what they say as I am frantically pressing the open door button at the speed of freak, all the while consigning their geriatric asses straight to old people hell. I have just decided to sic my grandfather in law on them, he has a walker and he ain't afraid to use it, when MIRACLE OF MIRACLES!! The damn thing opens.

They look surprised.. and if I don't miss my guess, disappointed that I didn't try and climb out the top. Gah!! So, I just give them the crazy eye, which I've mentioned doesn't work as well as it did at one time. One is a former school teacher, nothing phases her, the other is a man, and well, as you know, NOTHING gets through to them at times. When I whine to my boss, he snickers at me.

This could be because of the evil trick I played on him just this morning, however, I am not admitting to anything and C made me do it. He did!


Friday is finally here!!

Signed,

The very low on the food chain
Jenn/Jenna Leigh.
PS, when I'm rich and famous, I'm gonna buy that hospital. I'd say I'd fire them, but they're volunteers.

Local News

I am now a member of the Morehouse Parish Chamber of Commerce. Yes, me, the original anti-establishment redneck. I'm too southern to be a liberal, but I am surely not a conservative. However, I'm now in there with the others that do the tourist type stuff for the town of Bastrop and the parish as well. Why? Well, funny you should ask that question.

My agent, D (this is a joke, but she needs to receive a percentage) decides that I shall be doing a book signing because in her words, "This is an important thing for you. And you WILL be doing this." Take note, usually D is the sweetest of people. However, like most of sweet people, she can also have a tizzy when the occasion calls for it. So, with the help of a wonderful lady in another department, A, the two of them go whisper in a corner and look at me while I am working.

As I am a paranoid soul, this doesn't sit well with me. I give them the crazy eye back, as this usually works. Not this time, they give me identically evil grins back, instead. *blinks* I am losing my touch! The crazy eye didn't work! I can hit someone with that and make em run. Yes, I mean C, who is evil and must be destroyed. T can live, not C. *coughs*

When I come out of my office (or cage as C, who must be destroyed calls it)they nab me and say, "Sign this this and this and shut up!" So, I sign and *gulps* I'm a member of the C of C. And I'm having a book signing in about a month or so, whenever my order of books comes in, I get it reviewed by a lady that works for Bastrop Daily Enterprise and she *double gulps* interviews me.

I am used to being the interviewer not the interviewee. It will be interesting to see how it is on the answering side of the Q and A.

OH DEAR GOD!! I just thought of something. What if ALL my relatives show up for the signing? I'm gonna need some more books. Hit me for a few more hundred!! Ok, fine, a thousand. *grins* Hey, sometimes, it DOES pay to be an inbred redneck with relatives coming out the woodwork. Oh, wait, er.. no.. er.. no. I'm gonna go and have a lie down. Yall have a loverly night!!

And yeah, I do hear that song in my head.

I'm a member of a country club
I do my drankin from a dixie cup..

Love ya,

Jenna Leigh
Who may be associated with the insane redneck that also posts on this board. Especially if the relations buy her..my books.

Mooohaahaahaha Bovinas Locinas, signing off.

I sorta kinda maybe did good.

LOL. Yeah, I may be sure about that statement. Don't quote me on it though. I entered the contest of a wonderfully generous author named, Angela Knight. She ran it on her yahoo group just because she's that nice. She's also one of my all time favorite authors, bar none. So, she put up a contest and I entered and damn if I didn't get second.

Second is damn good! I didn't even think I was going to place, not with all the wonderful people that entered as well. Heck, some of the people I speak with personally almost every single night are better than I am, at least, I think they are.

But, then again, they say the same about me. I mean it, so, I guess they do too. That brings me to the real subject of my blog.

Support

Yeah, I ain't talkin about panty hose, this is NOT a certain insane Russian's blog about pantyhose, dammit. *snickers about that* I mean literary, critical, and yeah, emotional support.

What do you when you need a friend to tell you that you do not in fact suck big rotten eggs? You IM them and whine until they say "FINE YOUR STUFF IS GOOD NOW LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO WRITE!" That would be Nee.. she's soo sweet, lil cheerleader she is, in a pink skirt no less. Yes, I said the p word, dear. MOOUAHAHAHAHAHAH.

Or if it's Karen, she gets all prissy with you and tells you to get real and deal. Love that insane Glamazon especially when she's to quote her, "gettin mushy" LOL

Meems? The one that will actually be sweet to you. She says all the right things and what's more, sincerely means em. Heck, she loves me, I dunno why. Just lucky I guess. Or else she's done somethin reeeally bad in a former life.

Kitta makes this cat face at me over the internet. I can actually see it you know. I'm cyberpsychic or something. The face says only this: "Don't make me come all the way over there just to smack you in the head. If you do, you will be SO sorry. I shall bring hobbits instead of Aragorn." Ok, the last, she wouldn't say, but she'd probably bring me one of those dang mutated grasshoppers they have over there called Wetas. Google em, go ahead, you'll freak just like me. Bugs shouldn't be that large. Jimminy Cricket took steroids aack!

As for my other loverly friends, Mila, WF, The Debster, Livvinator, and so many others I cannot even name them all, they tell me I ain't too shabby. Do I believe it? Eh, maybe. LOL

I hope that readers will like what I do, because, hey, that's what matters. I made you laugh, made you cry, sigh, or say dang baby, ain't it time to go to bed yet? sortsa things. Any of these will make me happy.

Yall have a good one, and lets just not have any more Mondays, like ever!!

Night!!

Jenna
Still not in w/the insane redneck who shares this blog. That woman's nutters. I swear, she ran from a dog today that was no bigger than her foot. What a wuss! *grins*

It's up for sale!! OOHOOO

My book, Braless in the Buick is up for preorder at the site psst, in paperback.
http://www.champagnebooks.com/

Also the pictured left is the bookmark that my friend Donna Hatten made for me! I love it! So, all the good news has helped me make it through another day in the icky work week.

Have a good one and tomorrow is HUMPDAY!! It's all down hill from there, and then we can all do the Friday Fandango..

Love ya,

Jenna Leigh
*In no way affiliated with the insane other person with whom I sweetly share this blog out of the goodness of my heart. You know, that insane redneck that has the Evil Feline Master. Yeah, her. She's scary!

The Q is correct. Cats ARE evil

***warning, slightly icksome***

**NOTE TO PETA** Yes, mice were harmed in the blogging of this blog. I'm sorry, but that is one evil cat.

Ok, so, I have to wait and ride home with hubby today. That means my day lasts from 7 to 5, blah. I did read almost an entire book in the 2 hr wait time, so that's good. Anyways, we come home and I make me an iced coffee. It has to be iced as it was 92 degrees today. I even played the sweet wife and fixed hubby's lunch plate which consisted of porkchop, bbq beans and tater salad. The damn thing weighs about 5 lbs, and he'll eat it all, which is sad, the skinny bastid.

So, I'm all happy and sweet and we sit down to watch Rachel Ray for a few minutes and unwind. Ok, my cat is hopping around on the shoes by the door. We've had a few mice here lately, due to the dryness of the weather and the mowing of the pastures around us. I thought, well shoot, here we go again.

It is slightly funny to see that freaky feline stick his foot in a shoe like some furry demented wicked stepsister from Cinderella. Catarella (shrugs) who knows? So, we snicker. Hubby's on one couch, I'm on the other. Suddenly, with a ferocity of a lion (ess, I know the boy's are lazy) on the African plain, he shoots out of the corner in hot pursuit of one of those tiny little field mice. OMG!!

Hubby has his plate in his hand, he doesn't drop it of course, but he jumps up on the back of the couch and screams like a girl. I laugh, really really hard. And point. *coughs*

**** Dreamie Sequence of Events****

Yep, wild frickin kingdom in the living room! Any minute I expect Marlin Perkins to come flittin in there with whatever unlucky schmuck that he had doin all the heavy work and say. "Yes, the american housecat is one of the most violent killers of rodents of all time! Watch as he pounces on his prey, hear the squeaks of horror. (from the mouse as well. My but the man hit high c that time, I'm most impressed, *blinks*what? Oh yes, back to the cat.) The cat has pierced the mouse's flesh with his canines."

***All pause***

Bean: I am a cat, I don't have canines, I have sharp teeth in the front of my mouth. Let's call em, felines.. *smirks* Thank yew... say I have canines again and I shall pierce your dangly bits with my even sharper claws.

**Back to the show**

"Hans, stand in front of me, yes, thank you. Now watch as the cat lets the mouse think he's gotten away only so he can run him toward his huge chickenshit human male. This amuses the cat to no end as it does the human female the cat calls Meowma to make her feed him. She falls for it too, stupid woman that she is. As if the cat cares not one whit for her except as a food source and a prop for his huge behonkus."

*paws*

Bean: Do not tell ALL my secrets. I am getting you next, just so's ya know.

***Back to the Show***

"Er, it seems that we are too close to the action. Why don't we leave the camera here and come back later? Come Hans."

"Yes marstar... " Shuffles off.. *runs like hell when the cat feints at them*


***
Ok, the cat played with the mouse. And yeah, I know that cat and mouse is a saying for a reason. But, just, ew. That was icky... Finally, after my hubby jumped the coffee table and sat on me, I convinced him to dispose of the thing.

He took an empty saltine box and flicked it inside it with the dustpan. The stupid mouse immediatly jumped back out into the cat's arms. *blinks* Is he a .... hee hee.. Mousachist? *yall knew I was gonna say this at some point, so shut up!* Hubby, making that adorable squealing noise the whole, entire time, flicked it back in again and yelled for me to open the door. I did so, and he chucked box, mouse and all, out into the front yard.

I look down and there is a bit of gray fluff on the dustpan (cat hair the bane of my existance) and I jump and say OMG is it on the dustpan? At which point he screams again and throws the dustpan at ME..

Well, I retaliated by shoving him aside and running in the house. By this time, I've figured out it wasn't the mouse and I am ROFLMFAO. Literally. I lay on the floor and just hooted for about 20 minutes. I figure I've gotten my cardio workout for the day. *sighs*

So, here I am, safely ensconsed in my room with the door shut.
Hubby's twitchy.. (I've been helpin it along with the point and scream trick)
Cat's pissed as his toy is gone AGAIN! Humes are vile.. pah...ffth!.. (woe to the hubby that thinks he can sleep nekkie w/out suffering the consequences.. aka perforated penis)

Just so's ya know? This aint a Disney friendly household. If Mickey's lil weird cartoon self comes through the door, Bean shall open a can of Redneckus Felinus Woopus Arsus upon him like you wouldn't believe. It'll be a smack down. All bets are on the cat.

This episode of
Wild Jenndom
is brought to you by,
Redneck Willie
Badass Bean
and
Really Stupid Rodents

Ahhhhh.. At least Monday is over now.. *grins*
Jenna Leigh

Happy Easter!

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday with lots of food, family and friends. Hunt the eggs, eat the chocolate, just be safe traveling to and from.

Someone asked me, "What does Easter mean to you?" Besides those flowers shown, which are my favorite, a lot of different things.

When I was younger, it meant church, new dresses, a basket of candy and then Easter Dinner. Now, I can also add, the southern Easter has all those things, but one thing it has to have to be complete is, Ham. Yep, it deserves to be capitalized. The Easter Ham is one of the best things you can eat. The potato salad, beans, devil eggs, and pies all help, but without Ham, the holiday just don't mean as much to me.

That got me thinking on regional foods and what they represent to the people of the region. For me, food means a lot. (looks at butt) Ok, a WHOLE lot. But, nothing brings back a memory like food. Turnip greens(w/bacon) and cornbread, peas (w/bacon) and cornbread, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy. You note there is a theme here. Grease, cornbread and/or bacon LOL.

But, just the taste of my own biscuits or cornbread takes me back to my mother and my two grandmothers. These three women were cooks of varying degrees of expertise. My maternal grandmother(Mamaw) was the fry queen. She liked to fry be it chicken, chicken livers, or salmon patties, that was her thing. Otherwise, you could forget it unless it was a dessert from a box. And, I won't get started on the nasty koolaid (blech)

My own mother learned to cook from her mother-in-law (Meemaw) Yes, the names are confusing to the outsider, but I had it down to a science! My mother's mother is Mamaw, and my daddy's parents were Meemaw and Peepaw, I had no maternal grandfather so, eh.

The point is, you'd think that the MIL teaching the DIL to cook is an 'accident' with sharp implements waiting to happen. Not so, but only because of the personalities of these two wonderful individuals, I'm sure. Meemaw was a patient woman, sweet, and a Christian of the best sort. This meant she felt it her duty to spread the word of God by living right and being kind and er.. teaching those less fortunate to cook cardiac on a plate sorts of dishes we all know and love.

My mother is just a little pig that wanted to know how to make her own dang biscuits and gravy, by golly. She did love my Meemaw and the feeling was mutual even after my parents divorced when I was 12. She improved on all these dishes with her own little extras and now is THE cook of 'real' food in the family. My aunts make sides and desserts, the ability of which still eludes Mama.

All three of my grandparents are gone now, leaving behind a lot of memories, some character traits, a dimple in this one's cheek, a twinkle in this one's eye, the volume of this one's voice *points at self* and big bones *oh yeah this one too, lucky me, THANKS MEEMAW!*. But I also got the ability to make fried chicken, peas, cornbread, mashed taters and gravy like nobody's business. Plus many other wonderful southern belle dishes that make Paula's Home Cooking look like a dieter's delight. (except mayo, yeck, Paula, just yeck)

So, tomorrow I go to my mama's looking forward to the friends, family, kids hunting eggs and all of that. But, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to really looking forward to the food she's got cooked. Like Homer Simpson once said.. Mmmm, Ham *drools* HAPPY EASTER!

Now if I can get Mama's ability to make sweet tea, we'll be set.

Jenn
Proud to be a redneck gourmand.

I am ze blogmistress

Ok, not really. But, I do help out a few now and then. Where there are broken links, I'll be there, where there are funky pics, I'll be there. When Charissa's blog is pink.. It tweren't me! *grins* Here ya go Debster, either one of these will do. I made it smaller, so you can use it as your proffie pic. (hugs)



If you can use this one, do so, if not the one above will work better. Yes, it is strange to be blogging link instructions, yall leave us alone!

Uh, publicity?

Do you see that picture? *points* That's me. I know that I aint an ogre or nothing, but seriously, I don't have the face and form ready for prime time! Sheesh!

So, imagine my surprise (read shock, angst and horror) when my coworkers begin to smirk at me. I corner the weakest link (yes, Debbie, YOU) and ask her, what's the deal?

She smirkily replies.. We're getting you interviewed by the local paper aaannd.. she pauses for dramatic effect (oh, yeah, it did work) a book signing.

*takes deep breath* Ok! well then.. er.. I thought I had it bad with my mama standing up in her work place home of many kith and kin of my hometown and screaming 'MY BABY IS GETTING PUBLISHED YALL!!' at the top of her lungs. This loud (I do get it honest) statement was followed by the taking down of the website

http://www.champagnebooks.com/ with pens and papers. *gulps*

Now then, that's fine. Mama loves me and she is entitled to brag as she pushed me out her hoohah thirty *mutter mutter* years ago. Not that she felt it or nothing cause she unlike myself got the good drugs PFFTH!

Anyhoo, so er.. Debbie et al are going to do a book signing for me in town. Nothing big or anything, but I'm sort of floored, freaked and yeah, humbled that they all love me this much. One of the insane radiologists is helping to set that up too. I'm gonna cry you know, they're gonna make me cry and then, well *sniffs* I dunno what's next.

However, try to explain to those that don't deal with it often, the difference between epress and print.

It goes like this:

Me: You can buy the cd and read it on the computer, Mama.

Mama: I can read it on the computer? What do you mean read it on the computer? I ain't readin on the computer, you are gonna fix it so I don't have to right? Make the print really big too. Send Morgan to the house, she'll fix it!

Me: Yes, Mama.

Mama: I mean it, REALLY BIG! My eyes are NOT going bad, my arms are getting shorter.

Me: *smothers laughs as she doesn't want a wuppin* Urm.. yes.

Mama: Is this DIRTY? I am not sure I can read dirty stuff.

Me: Yes it's dirty really smutty and nasty and all. (no it aint but she is insane and it is way fun to aggravate her)

Mama: You nasty wench.. *snickers evilly*

Me: I told yall I got it honest, and now you all know.. *sighs*

Mama: Are you talking to people about me *looks out onto the cyberworld and blinks* YOU ARE! Just wait til I get my hands on you.. mmhmm. I am gonna tell your Aunt Cindy on you too.

****

So are the days of my life in the spotlight of my family, friends and God only knows who else before the things done.

Now, while I'm on the subject of family, I'd like to thank my daughter, Momo for making me a really kewl banner out of my cover. She's the best. I can't put it up here as it moves and shakes, but you can look at it on my website, the links over to the right.

Have a good one! And today is humpday for me. It's all downhill from here! WHOOHOO!

On second thought though, if each relative buys a book, I'll be a flippin millionaire, ok, a thousandaire. *grins*

Jenn, Proud to be a Redneck

Breathe.. Just Breathe

Yes, it is real. It IS. *points* There is the cover for my first release.

Braless in the Buick is a romantic comedy, something I've been told I'm good at, the comedy, not romance. Who knew being called a smartalec all my teenaged years would lead to something so wondrous, so marvelous, so wow!

The story is about a single mom, trying to start over again in a new neighborhood with her son. She's got support, in her nosy neighbors who are more than a little bit inspired by some of my insane friends.

In fact, the whole thing came about because of another insane friend, who I picked on about an incident in her real life. I guess they're right, being a writer is taking things from your life and making them into a story that maybe, hopefully someone else will want to read.

Meet Allie and Jake, or ok, fine! First the supporting cast:Yes, Neeley, you are a wonderful president of the Neighborhood Inquisition, I mean, er.. Watch. Kay is THE Divine Diva of all that is trendy, Merry's the intuitive, supportive 'sweet' one. (yes, we laughed too) Sharlene is Jake's partner, quiet, scary and very good at being bad. And then there is Dana, the Sex Educator of the Soccer Moms. MJ, the son who wants his mom to be happy especially if the man is as cool as Mr. Donally. Will Allie forgive Jake when she finds out the real reason he's been hurking off her back porch? Do Allie and Jake have a chance at love with the above cast of crazies milling around? Do they have a choice is the real question..
***
Excerpt:
Moms Gone Wild: The Early Morning Edition?
Allie was sure she was three different women. There was Public Allie and then there was Worry Wart, the phobia queen, each day she got a little louder. But there was also Inner Slut. She’d been asleep since college, but this guy woke her up with a vengeance.

Worry Wart squealed for her to run, run from the potential serial killer. Then Inner Slut suggested a few things she could do to make him holler instead. They involved chocolate syrup, whipped cream and if she wasn’t mistaken, a feather duster.

Inner Slut almost won the battle with the last little volley. It was a close thing for a minute there, but Worry Wart was a dirty fighter, plus she had Mrs. Lisbon on her side.

“Get in the car, M.J. I’ll handle Mr. Donally.” She intended to drive off before Mr. Donally reached them. She would bring him some money later, when she was properly dressed. But when she pulled her own door open all the papers fell onto the ground. “Well, shit!” She scrambled to pick them up.

“You broke my Bonsai.” He stood over her, looming like a vulture. Guilt swamped her at his hurt tone.

She started to stand, only to have his hand on her lower back stop her. “How dare you?”
“No, wait. You–.” He began but she didn’t listen, just pushed his hand away and reared up intending to give him a piece of her mind.

Unfortunately, she slammed her head on the edge of the door and lost what little mind she had left after this morning’s debacle.

Allie hit the pavement and waited for the stars swirling overhead to subside from her vision. A pair of strong hands picked her up and turned her over.

Mr. Donally lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all and part of her sighed over that. But then she remembered how stupid she’d looked and decided it was a fruitless fantasy, despite Inner Slut’s suggestions to the contrary.

Coming May 2006 from Champagne Books

So, Friday comes along and..

I've been looking forward to it all dang week, you know? But, Murphy is apparently a redneck and he loves to visit me.

Case in point....

We let the daughter drive, therefore, as I'm shortest, I get to be in the backseat. Fun!! Ok, so, I'm reading and lying down, as I'm lazy and tired and have had a week from hell. Anyhoo, we get to the mall to pick up the hubby's glasses and I feel it.. the dreaded sensation of leaving reality behind for what I call.. Seizureville.

Yeah, I lost it. I began to see things, hear things, smell things that just don't exist outside the strange twisted existance that only crops up from time to time for me. I take meds for this problem, but lately, they aint' working out.

This entire week, I've had a lowgrade fever and combined with the time change, this has thrown me off my game. So, there ya go. Me in the back seat, hubby in the front, daughter driving, all of us freakin the hell out. Especially hubby. Mo's just driving the car. Me? I've gone into that special la la land reserved for me where I speak perfectly clear in my head, but what actually comes out my mouth is more along the lines of Martian via The Redneck Star.

My head spins, my eyes flicker, the world tilts and then.. blackness. Utter and complete darkness that no light can penetrate. Only the soft, soothing sound of my hubby informing that he has everything under control and it's all gonna be alright. *snorts* It would help if he wasn't havin a cow at the time too.

But, there ya go.

Then, I wake up and it gets a bit comical as I am singing some song that only makes sense to me, I cuss out the passing cars on the highway loudly.. and perhaps shoot them a sign or two with my hand. They call my mother on me (gasps) how dare they? She fusses, I fuss back (cringes) and then, I don't really remember if I even said goodbye. I think my stepfather was even called at some point. With those two, who knows?

And then, there is Walmart, as I am so not leavin town until groceries have been bought.

Note: the Hellmouth and I don't get on in the best of times, but hey, going through it in the throws of post seizure drunk is not so damn bad. I don't recall but about 1/4 of it, I didn't kill anyone, they even let me push a buggy, tho, I now recall they kept a hand on it with me at all times. I wonder if perhaps they thought I'd run peeps over. Nah, not me. I'm the sweetest thing all the time. *snickers*

Hell, I just hope I didn't cuss anyone out in the Hellmouth.. if I do that, I want to remember it clearly and with much relish.

Then, we came home and I took a three and a half hour nap only to wake up to Degrassi Jr High or what the hell ever it is now. Sheesh.

*sighs* So, here's to a f*cked up Friday. *holds up her meds and a cup of coffee*

Jenn, who would have been burned as a witch in olden days.. *pauses* Sometimes, it's still a close thing. Too bad for them that Rednecks don't burn well. Bar B Q'd Redneck .. nah, if you have some pork though, then we'll talk.

Friday Eve

Oh dear Lord, who are in heaven, hallowed by thy name. The weekend comes, thy will be done, make Saturday last an eternity..

The Weekend comes, if I stand on tiptoe, I can almost see the shining beakon of Saturday coming up over the horizon. When your weekday job sucks big lemons, you begin to look upon the two days of the week you have off as your salvation. The one thing that keeps you from taking a gun and becoming the next big thing on the evening news.

Unfortunately, the largest calibur I have is rat shot. While that is appropriate for some of my most favorite targets, it wouldn't do the damage I'd want it to. If I am gonna get put in jail, I want it to have been for something, you know?

So, here's to Friday, flying past. Then, all time stopping on Sat. and Sun. I hope the weekend drags on so slowly that it will seem as if Monday will never appear. *gasps* I said the M word. Damn, call the FCC.

I'm the Friday Goddess Baby.. lets do the dance, yall.

Did I mention Deb's Evil? I didn't? weelllll mm!

20 years ago-ish I...
Was in high school
2. Dated a damn dopehead idiot
3. Spent a lot of the time wasted and listening to metal music

10 years ago-ish I...
1. Was a single mom2. Had a ‘friend’ with bennie’s *grins*
3. Was a cafeteria lady

5 years ago-ish I...
1. Remarried
2. Moved to another city
3. Got a new job; oh, it sucks too. Pah
3 years ago-ish I...

1. Starting writing for an RP group
2. Got sucked into it
3. Discovered that maybe I am pretty damn good at it.
1 year ago-ish I...

1. Thought hey, I might as well do this shit for a profit and not for free
2. Sent in the first submission..
3. Got accepted WHOOOT!

So far this past year I...
1. Been offered a contract to publish a story
2. Got offered a 2nd then a 3rd contract
3. Have been freaking out ever since.

Yesterday I...
1. Had the Fever
2. Cried watching old ass Country Music tunes
3. Read a book..

Today I...
1. Wrote a review
2. Worked my ass off and wondered why I have not switched jobs yet (ditto Deb)
3. I stayed at work despite the fever of 100 degrees (they so owe me I hope they catch my damn cooties)

Tomorrow I will...
1. Get up and do this shit again.
2. Make sure Bill gets my damn ciggies and my meds..
3. Be one fucking day closer to .. Yeah, you guessed it, FRIDAY! WHOOHOO

In the next year I will...
1. Get more of my work out there
2. Maybe write some under a pseudonym
3. Will WRITE lots of hot sweaty sex (less messy more profitable)


In the next minute I will tag...
1. Meme
2. Mila

Time is on my side.. NO IT AIN'T!!

Why? Tell me this. Why in the world would you screw around with something so basic, so much a part of a person's life as the time?

I have a theory that since I was born in the fall, October, that I am more attuned to the Fall Back time that they do. So, when this freakin Spring Forward thing happens, it throws off my biorhythms and some junk.

I'm grumpy, dizzy, bitchy and angry. How is that different than any other time you ask? (Yes, Quacka, Cheesie, Kiwi, Bean and SweetieMeems I hearad yall) Because I bloody well say so that's why!

Stupid time change, stupid losing an hour in the a.m. damn well explaining to mother over the phone. Sheesh! Grrrr!! Auuuggh! I feel and sound like one of the adults on Charlie Brown until at least 9 a.m. and now with this crap, it's noon before I can contribute anything worthwhile without killing people. Okay, noon-ISH. *mutters* Fine, 4 p.m. but, really. Leave the time alone.

I am not a flippin farmer, I don't NEED to get up with the chickens. And if I ain't mistaken the damn chickens were still sleeping when I got up this morning at 6 a.m. which was 5 a.m. by my very pissed off body.

There oughta be a law. *sniffles* To top it all off, I'm still sick with the fever. I am now blaming the time change for that too! Neener!

I'm through ranting for now. Too dang sleepy.. pah!

Jenn

Country Road Take Me Home

To the place where I belongggg. *coughs*

Ok, be advised, mixing old time country music with a fever and cough meds is not a good thing. However, I will admit that my sinuses are at least a little looser now than they were 2 hours ago. I have been in the bed, lying down to recuperate from the feverishness that has plagued me for the past week. As always it gets worse in the early evenings. I don't know why, it just does. I'm a low temp type of person, so when it does go up, I go down for the count. Good thing that I had entertainment in the form of glittering Rhinestone Cowboys and all huh? Urm, yeah.

The thing is this: I'm a country girl, a redneck woman, all of that. Raised on Country Sunshine does not even begin to cover it. I've spent the last two hours on an emotional rollercoaster going high up into hysterical giggles with Harper Valley PTA only to fall way down low in the weepy slumps with Crazy, I Fall To Pieces and hell, just about any song Patsy Cline ever opened her mouth to sing.

When this is what you remember during the innocent times of your life, the time when your daddy still was THE king of your world and you were the lil princess, when mama was the bomb, the know all be all end all of your existence, then it cuts you down. It regresses you to a place where you never thought to revisit ever again. Then you hear it; He said I'll love you til I die.. She said You'll forget in time, and just OMG! I'm squalling my eyes out.

My father and I don't speak any more we haven't for almost four years now. It's something intensely private that I don't talk about, however, I can still remember riding in the big gray truck and him singing this song. See, my father has a wonderful voice. Our whole family on is a musical one. His brothers all play instruments, his sisters can all sing; its what southerners do, you know, for church goings. His voice is his instrument as he, like myself, was too stubborn or flighty to sit down to actual lessons. It's a beautiful one, rich, deep, and full of the pathos of living. So, when I hear Charlie Pride, Kenny Rogers, Marty Robbins, Hank Williams, Willie, Waylon, all of them, I hear my daddy. But, not the one I don't speak to anymore. No, I hear the daddy I love, the daddy I miss, the daddy that I still keep close in my heart.

This was something special he and I shared, the ability to carry a tune well enough to catch the notice of others. People comment on myself and my daughter now, jokingly saying that we are the Judds or whatever. So, we sang together, I can do harmonies because of this man, I know what an alto, tenor and a bass is, because of him. This, along with humor, and a love of the Grinch I can't shake.

So, here I sit all sniffly, and grumpy as old wounds have once again been ripped open by an old country tune and the sight of dead legends moving across the screen. Tammy, Johnny, Ray, Charlie, Waylon and now, Buck. I'll miss them all, and in the missing, I will also reminisce about my daddy.

Like Tricia Yearwood's song says: The Song Remembers When. It does, and it will reach out across decades to grab you and pull you right back to where you were that day. The day the sun was shining, the day you never even imagined it would all end. Ignorance? Maybe. Innocence, surely. Both are bliss.

So, *lifts glass* Here's to the daddy I once had, may he and I meet again one fine day. May the Circle Be Unbroken. Daddy sings bass, I sing tenor. Little bro takes after mama and is not invited to join.

Cats Can Dance, Cats Can Sing

Please be advised. Certain parties that read this blog with alarming frequency have a terrible aversion to cats. That being said, don't whine about how I didn't warn you both with this little missive and the title. Yes, Glamazon, I do mean you, Ms. Whiney!!
****





So, they've mowed the pasture next to my oh so rural home (yep, its the stix, keep up) When this happens, I always get a mouse or two. I mean mice, in that they're tiny, not rats, but field mice. Stupid little things. You'd think they'd have memos and all about my house being like the Bermuda Triangle for rodents, lizards and other small fluttery type things.

In the above picture, the owl represents my cat, Mr. Bean, Monsieur LeGuime, The Evil Feline Overlord. Are you getting the picture? He's badass. Case in point, I come home like I do every day. I go to the door, unlock it, chuck my keys into my huge purse (Bermuda Triangle for whatever the hell I'm looking for btw) so I don't lose the damn things. Well, lose em where I can't without a modicum of bitching, growling, snarling and dumping out embarrassing feminine products, cell phone, etc find them.

I go to open the door and as my hand gets a scant inch from the knob, it is yanked open from the inside. GACK! I freak, thinking zombies first, robbers second, a sure sign of a sick mind, yes, I know lets move on!!! However, it's only the cat. ONLY you say? ONLY the evil feline of lore and legend, inspiration for countless shenanigans on Loops of Legendary Forgotten Lore? Urm, yep, LOS, Meymey is bad, but Bean's badder.

He jerks the door open and I swear I heard the feline version of SEEE!!! LOOKIT! DAMMIT!LOOK YOU STUPID HUME! So, I look and *gulps* right in the middle of the floor, where my dainty *snorts* foot would have fallen, is a tiny, potential mouse zombie.
Ew. Gross. Ew. Gross +Infinity+1.

I step over it and shudder and squeal my way into the bathroom. I'm old, I've had a kid, I am NOT bending over to get that mouse til I've visited the loo, thanks ever so.

On my way back into the living room, barely avoiding the assassination attemps by said EFO (Evil Feline Overlord) who likes to wind his fat ass between my feet as I walk, I stop short to see the mouse is in the kitchen. *blinks* Oh hoooolllyy shit, it IS a damn zombie! It's moving when I ain't watchin it! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! Bloody Rodent INVASION AACK ACK SOUND THE ALARMS!!!

I look closer at the dead mouse on the floor and notice, it aint as large as I remember. I wrinkle my nose and step over the fat feline to peer around into the living room. There are not one but two lil potiential zombies in my home. Two? Are they Dumb and Dumber of the rodent set? Did they set out on this path to certain doom? OMG! What if they are like Frodo and Sam from LOTR? My dang cat's either Sauraman or *swallows hard* Shelob, the big bitch queen of spiders(a small aside, yes, yall, this DOES mean I've been forced to watch those movies wayyy too many times) I look at the cat, he flops over onto his back. Theme music begins to play in my head. I'm sure he put it there, the little git.

It goes a lil something like this..

Cat bomb
Cat bomb
They call me cat bomb
Cat bomb
Cat bomb
They call me cat bomb
I'm the finest
I'm the felinest
cause, I'm the cat bomb.

*evil feline grin*

Yes, it is a Tom Jonesian tune, but you have to remember, the cats been exposed to my hubby's strange musical proclivities as well as my severe phobias about creatures in my house. I don't fear mice, just dead ones. I know that little bastard laughed at me while he did his wiggly dance on the floor. I heard him say

Meowhahahahaahhahahahhahahaha

*blinks* Well, ok, I guess he is MY cat too. *evil redneck grin*

The Day of the Glamazon

is for Glamazon!!

What is a glamazon you ask? As well you should. You won't find this word in the dictionary as it is unique like the woman who holds this title.

She has many names. Some would call them aliases, however, that is a different story involving car chases, machine guns, kewl boots and fast cars. Nothing you'd wish to hear about right?

No, today we talk about the Glamazon the Fashion Diva, Princess of Prada, Daughter of Divinity and all in all Goddess of Style. Yes, it is Karen's birthday. To celebrate, go and put on your favorite shoes, your most luxurious sweater or, like me, eat some rich ass chocy while you type.

I love this woman, simply because she is so unlike me. She likes to dress in clothes without elastic; shoes that you may have to buckle or zip up to the thigh; put lotion on her skin without having a man put you in a pit first; and many other things either I don't have time for, or in my own silly way don't think is neccessary for my happiness. I'm sure my wrinkles will thank me for the last one soon. LOL

What I am saying is, she brings class into any room, cyber or otherwise just by walking in the door. She isn't materialistic, (erm.. a little) or petty (ermm a bit, but way funny with it) or ever snooty (well, not in the ways that matter *grins*) What she is, and has become is simply, a friend. One who will bitch and moan and groan with you, and defend you to the end. She's sly, cunning, spiteful, wicked and mean. But, in the best way possible. Loyal to a fault, smart, funny, sweet, (she tries to hide it but I see it) and basically, insane. However, the Bovinas Locas wouldn't be the same without the Gucci Grazer in the herd.

Happy Birthday Glamazon! I hope today is wonderful for you. May you eat five slices of chocolate cake and get on the scale to find you've lost ten pounds!!! *holds up glass to her* Happy Birthday and many many more..

Love you Ms. Q!!!!!!

Jenn

Rest in Peace

Today, we came home to discover our beloved cocker spaniel, Zoe had passed away. He always looked up at me with adoration in his coal black eyes, and wagged his little stub of a tail in greeting, no matter if it was rain or shine.

He was my baby, my protector; sweet, loyal, funny, brave and kind hearted and true to the end. In short, he was a dog. All dogs go to heaven isn't just a movie title. I believe it in my heart so, in the words of Will Rogers, who surely said it better than I could ever hope to..

"If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went..."



To Zoe
Died March 22, 2006
Lives forever in my heart

Jenn

Ur.. what?

So, today, I look at the news on my pages and what do I see? A ban on the sale of sex toys. In Old Miss, they are not allowed to even BUY them. I wonder if this extends to online sales too. If so, where do they get off telling people what they can and cannot spend their hard earned money on?

Come on, people. Get with it. You will allow some drunken idiot the right to take a loaded rifle in the woods to shoot a damn deer, and yet you won't let a lonely woman (the one the drunk and probably flaccid hunter left home alone btw) buy a dildo to fill her.. well.. lonely spaces?

Kids take guns to school and shoot people. I'm not for gun control by the government, just so you know. I'm way to freakin southern for that bit of blasphemy, however, I am for gun control by the private citizen. In other words, keep the guns away from the kids and the idiots. Your cousin Fred with the seven toes on each foot, would be an idiot, that's a piece of advice.

I think on it like this. Horny people are bitchy. Bitchy people make other people cranky. Cranky people drive home on the freeway, get way big pissed. You combine horny, bitchy, and cranky all in one person and you've got a hostage situation just waiting to happen. Choco-therapy only helps so much.

Would you rather the person bought a massager that plugs into the wall for this sort of thing? That's a safety hazard. Electricity and moisture.. mm, NO! If a person got their er.. privates fried by the massager because they couldn't in the words of the Rollin Stones "get no satisfaction" otherwise, could said person not sue your ass and move to a more tolerant state so they could get their jollies with the high dollar dildos? Mmm?

Look, you hickish, redneck and yeah, paranoidly jealous freaks; deal with it, your old lady wants some good vibrations. Maybe if you stayed home and stopped hunting and fishing and oooh yeah, visiting your MISTRESS, she'd probably lay off the Battery Operated Boyfriend.


Let's hear ya Louisiana Losers!! And do NOT get me started on the Lone Star State. If you really DID grow em bigger there, the sale of sex toys wouldn't have surpassed the sale of fricking guns. Or, maybe if the sale of guns hadn't surpassed the sale of flowers, or chocolate, or hey, just a little time spent with her..

Give it a try, honey. Until then, leave them girls alone..

Can you hear this? *bbzzzzz bzzzzz* That seems to be coming from the State Senator's house..

Looks like Mrs. Senator's wife has her a battery operated intern.. *grins*

I am old enough not to squirm, right?

So, why do I not need the pictured cosmetic when my mother mentions my upcoming books to friends and relatives? *blushes*

She makes me squirm in my chair and I feel myself doing something I, the evil and wicked, never do. I blush. I'm not a modest person, or shy, not with them. I'm loud. With them, you have to be or you don't eat.

But, she did it to me today, brought it up in front of my aunt. Who asked again, when it was coming out. I explained the Braless in the Buick comes out in June of this year.

Then my daughter opens her even larger mouth and informs them that I have another called High Chairs and High Stakes coming out in the summer as well. My aunt was puzzled until I explained that it was about a single vamp dad and his little girl and the nanny that is hired to take care of her. Then she burst into laughter about the play on the word stake.

Thank God she got it. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised. I do get my humor from this gaggle of gregarious geese. Not to mention my big brown eyes *flutters lashes* I will admit that Devil Daddy did contribute to my humor quotient. Especially in light of the fact that mother couldn't tell a joke correctly to save her life.

*** segue into my next topic---oooh so smooth***
Genetics is a strange and heartless beast, you know. I mean it. My mother is tiny, petite even. She wears a size 7 shoe to my big 10. Her legs are bony, her butt is even bonier, and she's just little. I got her eyes, her smile, her chin, but, did I get the tiny buttness factor? Hell no!

I am my father from the neck down. Ok, with pertinent parts different, as I am a woman. But, I'm built on the same sturdy lines. Our legs are identical, our feet too, down to the longer 2nd toes and the almost non-existent pinky toes with the funky nails (curling up toes) Let's move on from my mutated feet please! *blushes* I have the same color skin (reddish bronze, N.A. Melting Pot Girl I am) the same hair type (oily and prone to waves), the same fuller lips, and high cheekbones that make my eyes disappear when I smile. I say this to take blame away from the fat.. *coughs* But, hell, I'm still short, unlike him. I could have been tall, but nooo dumpy short lil thing with large bosoms. (Happy hubby, sad back)

He's a humorous man, funny, witty, and fast with his mouth. Smartass southern is the branch we come from. The heck with the slow talking, dullwitted inbreds that are shown on the television. Honey, you only wish. We can talk our way out of a papersack. Why do you think so many politicians are from the south? Yeah, you think about it. Double speak is our second language. He can remember a joke from 20 years ago, tell it again and put a twist on it to make it even better. He's a born comedian, a big old bullshitter, and I do love him despite our differences over the years.

I can't deny he's my daddy, I don't want to deny it. I refuse to do so, but hey, this lil apple has fallen far from that rotted old tree and I aint' lookin back. I'll take what he gave me, a knack for storytelling, good spelling ability, wicked imagination, big smartass mouth and combine it with my mother's family's penchant for sharp cutting remarks, fighting ability and sheer meanness. They are the pygmies from hell. All of them short and pissed about it. The Napoleon Complex aint' got nothin on these lil banty roosters of the redneck set.

My father's family is all tall. Someone asked me once, why are all your heroes so tall? I went, they aren't' but like 6'1" - 6'3" and after a silence, I was told that was above average. Is it? Wow, we are some long tall rednecks then. My father's brothers are all above 6ft. My own daughter is 6ft tall. My grandmother (his mother) was almost 6ft, this was in an age when women were not that tall, mind you. So, hey, go with what you know. LOL.

By the way, the real reason my heroes are all tall is simply this, my hubby is 6'4" I'm 5'5" and my head fits under his chin when we hug. It's nice, I like that, all cuddly. Great romance for life and for a book.

Tomorrow is Monday, another day in the life of me, the secretary in the hellish environment that is my workplace. Here's to one day being just a writer, or at least, a writer fulltime and going to a job parttime. Wohoo!

Jenn, The Drudge,

PS!! MY NOVELLA WAS ACCEPTED AT MIDNIGHT SHOWCASE!! THANKS JEWEL AND MAE!!! (HUGS) High Chairs and High Stakes!! A paranormal romantic comedy.. coming soon!

It has been brought to my attention

That I left yall hanging on the Hellmouth Debacle. The Redneck Hall of Shame will have to do without me as Devil Daddy showed heretofore hidden intelligence by shaggin his arse out the door when he heard my mother's sweet dulcet tones. LOL So, disaster avoided, this time.

Today is humpday, all is downhill from here. Hope to have more news soon on the writer front. For now, just reviewing books, doing contest stuff, and some interview questions. All in all, a slow and lovely week.

Chats tho, lots of chats with Coffee Time and Midnight Showcase. So, stop by either place to check them out.

www.midnightshowcase.com

www.coffeetimeromance.com

Blogging twice in the same day is a sign of a sick mind.

So, my daughter gets her permit. *chokes*

Hubby lets her drive to Monroe, a large, and crappily laid out city, on the interstate, through all the dang idiotic traffic lights, etc. *blink blink*

After the screaming and stomping of the imaginary brake on my hubby's side of the car, we arrive at ... DUN DUN DUNNNNN! The HELLMOUTH! *insert assorted screams of torment here*

After my hubby finally uncurls himself from the fetal position, hollers at me that I SHALL be buying him a large beer for when/if we make it home.

Anyhoodlie doodlie, I'd called my mother and she was meeting us at said Hellmouth to tell us hello on her way to her Mecca, Stein-torment.. *coughs* She is there, at the front of the store when we get in, I see her right away, which is a miracle in itself. *ponders the irony of a miracle in the Hellmouth*

We yak a few minutes, hubby has run off to the baseball cards section of the store to drool. Mother takes my daughter to the dogfood with her while I run over to grab some shampoo and meet her there. All is going well.. until..

IT HAPPENS!

I catch up with my mother and she has this LOOK on her face. The one that states someone will be hurting in a bad way very very very soon.

Note: I say I am in Hellmouth, yet, I say it jokingly. At no time did I expect that Devil Daddy would be there with his Crazed Concubine. I mean, they live over 35 miles away, why not go to the nearer grocery store and Hellmouth in that Parish? Why would your insane in the membrane ass come to this store knowing that we go there as well? Is Devil Daddy stalking me? If so, he screwed up cause Tiny Terror aka My MOTHER was there as well.

Imagine the scenario if you would, please, step inside THE REDNECK ZONE:

Let me remind you that you have entered a place where reality is not the norm. A place that sometimes, oooh sometimes, is frickin scary indeed. This is the place where EVERYBODY not only knows your name, but more than likely shares if not your maiden name, then your married one. (Think Cheers sans the beer as we're all Baptists and *don't* drink *snorts*) Yes, I am speaking of those lovely outlaws know as your inlaws.

Can you say, "wellllll shit!!!" You can't? It's ok, I did it for ya! *smiles*

In the Redneck Zone it is possible to walk up one aisle, see your uncle, walk down another, see a 3rd cousin twice removed. ad infinitum ad nauseum ad pukitupitus

It's also possible, plausible, you know, more than likely going to happen that your divorced parents could and would duke it out in the Hellmouth. If this highly likely event should occur, please, place your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye! My mother's hair stood up on the top of her head, she looked like an angry little dandelion. Her lips were pressed into such a tight line, I doubt I could have hammered a dime between them.

She uttered the words, "Your f**kin father is IN this store." and sucked in her breath. I swear she pulled four bags of chips off the shelf with that one suck of air.

Please be advised: We don't speak to the man, or his wife for reasons that I will not go into. However, they are good reasons, and we've been sticking by them for about 3 years now.

My worst nightmare is running into him in public place where he or his insane assed wife could make a scene. Imagine my surprise when Redneck Reality was even worse with the addition of my mother, the one that shall NOT be pissed off without dire consequences being paid.

Oh yes, just what I wanted: my picture in the Redneck Hall of Shame:

Here is Jenn; her parents engaged in a battle in the aisles of the Hellmouth, the mother was of course the victor (well, dur!) she took out his right kidney with a melon baller she appropriated from the kitchen gadget section. During this impromptu organ removal she was heard to yell in a loud and carrying voice: TAKE THAT YOU BIG SMELLY BASTARD, AND DON'T YOU GO NOWHERE CRAZY BITCH CAUSE YOU'RE NEXT! I'M GIVING YOU A LOBOTOMY! MOOHAHAHAHA MOOHAHAHAHA MOOOOOOAHAAHAHAH!

And then, you'd see my picture. Maybe I'd get a little plaque, I wonder if I could draw disability too? Mmm..

Redneck Reality TV.. come on down but beware, more than prices are falling at

THE HELLMOUTH!!

Jenn

PS: That cat is soo my mama. *sighs*

My new job.

Oh, not the author gig, that's going great! However, I have a new job as the technical advisor/publicist/secretary/etc to the great(and if he doesn't watch it, late) J. Morgan, also an author.

How did I luck out and get this highly sought after position you ask? Well, I signed a contract with this great personage about 8 years ago and it's now coming to fruition that the above jobs are also entailed wherein, hidden until such time that I could be guilted into doing them.

Am I angry? Let me clue you in, if I use large words, that in no way portray my origins, roots, or regional dialect, you can bet your sweet ass I am. *blinks* Oopsie!

Yeah, I married the man, now where in the crap in our non-existent prenup does it state that I have to do all his publication work for him? In no paragraph, line, addendum, or even written in magic marker on the back of the marriage contract do I see this. I know, as I looked. I'm quite tempted to shake it in his face before I do other things with it much more violent and bloody and yes, illegal.

No doubt he appreciates it as he tells me so, with that look on his face. Big blue green eyes shining at me as he sincerely tells me that I am the most wonderful person in the world to do email this, or join that. It doesn't stop me from gnashing my teeth, however, it does prevent me from gnawing on one of his appendages in ways he would NOT enjoy.

I want to know why, where, when and how the hell I got elected to do this. I want to know how come he can't learn to do this for himself. I learned it, he is smart, a genius if you must know. HE can do it, or I shall know the reason why.

Death.. by... marriage AUGH!

Jenn

Friday Eve

Yes, my favorite time of the week fast approaches. I can hear the sounds of the Friday train in the distance. Just now it's gearing itself up, the shiny weekend coal is being added to its large coal holding thingy(I don't know trains pah) and it will make its way down the timeline to the station.
Guess what? I'm gonna be at the platform waiting! Friday!!! Wohooo! Weekend means freedom to write, read, dream, and all in my jammies! Yippie Skippy!!!
**
So to all my fellow Friday Lovers, here comes the train, get ready.. let's go..

Happy Dreams,
Jenna

Blog Blog Blog

Congrats to J. Morgan!!

Got a reply back on the submission to Triskelion! Woohoo!! Yes, yes, yes!!! Ok, ahem. Yippe skipee! Yehaw!! Be sure to look for it soon, Michelangelo Blues! I love it!!!! Wooot! This is but a pen name for one of the most wonderful people in the world! I'm so psyched!! No, it aint me but, close enough *winks*

So, shout out to the author known as J. Morgan! May this be only the beginning of a long and illustrious career as a writer. (hugs and kisses!)

Oooh, Johnny in a poofy shirt!

And long hair! Yippee skippy! My day has been made brighter by this sight alone. *sighs* Johnny is way on up there on my freebie list.

Apparently this movie Libertine is all about Johnny being depraved, debauched and hopefully, disrobed. Add to that the period costumes, corsets, ruffles, etc, and that's just the men! LOL. Plus he's bitchy, mean, nasty and apparently 'always up for it' with the ladies. A man that writes plays and does one for the king of England that is not very nice at all. A smartass, in other words. Hell yeah!

I may even go see this in the theater and for me, that's saying something as I am the champion wait for the DVD type of girl. I hate the theater, its smelly, dark, and the floor is sticky with what I am hoping is soda, but I aint betting on it. Plus people bring their screaming children to the darned things and allow them to whoop it up and down the aisles like heathens.

I will NOT have my Johnny time interrupted in this fashion. I'll bombard them with popcorn, see if I don't. On second thought, perhaps I should wait for the DVD. My family is used to my fits and foibles.

JOHNNY.. wow.

Jenna

Pic for a friend.

Doin this the easy way. LOL Hopefully easy

Tomorrow is Humpday !!

This Thursday is my hubby's bday. He'll be 37. Older than me and that's all that counts. Anyhoo, I love the man. So, I decided to do a little tribute to him today, in case in the festivities, I forget.





This is a slightly raunchy rendition of his favorite dragon named Nawty Ned with drunken revelry as the theme.



The picture, drawn by him, of course depicts the debauchery that can be found in our fair city of New Orleans this time of year. That's right, it is Mardi Gras again, yall. Les Le Bon Temp Roulle (spelling?) and in the immortal words of Nawty Neddie, "Lets git drunk, nekkid, and pretend we're married."


Happy Birthday Bill!!!

With Love,

Jenn

Color me surprised NOT!

u
The Evil Princess
You are drawn to the sinister side of life and
gravitate towards darker things. You are
quite proud of your dark side and often
flaunt it. Your sinister nature and your
willingness to be cutthroat often result in
you playing the villainess.
Role Model: Snow White's Stepmother
You are most likely to: Team up with an evil dragon
to spread terror across the countryside.

What Kind of Princess are You? - Beautiful Artwork (Original Music is BACK!!!)
brought to you by

Updates and Freakouts

I have no clue as to what I'm doing. I'm a new author, brand spanking new. I've been a writer online for about 4 years now, playing at it, as I say. However, there comes a time to put away the play and try for the pro league. I've moved out of the sandlot and onto the big leagues as it were. Well, ok, I'm in the minors, but I'm moving on up, learning day by day and I love it so far.

Each time I get an ok, we want your story, I get goosebumps, I cry, I eat a gob of chocolate and then I get busy. Life's good for me in 2006. I shall forevermore remember it as the year I became an author.


2006 may be the year I crash and burn too, but hey, like Def Leppard's song says.

Better to Burn Out Than Fade Away.

Ok, Fine! Yes, I did say that quote for an excuse to put my fav band from the 80's. *sighs* Mmmmmmhmm. Where was I? Oh, yeah.

*crossing fingers*

Here I go into the wild black and white yonder of print/ebook and goodness knows what else. I wanted to thank Meme and Nee (Mad Cows ala Bovinas Locas as Karen says) for my two reference books, the last of which I did receive today. May my writing become enriched by them and may I learn a little something as well. Love yall!!!


I am a mad cow.. but, I'm just one of the herd.
Beware the Bovinas Locas!! Moooohahahhah

Jenna Leigh

Guess what I got in my email box today?

No, not that freaky little nekkie pic virus.. puleeeze! If some twit had actual nekkie pics of moi, he or she'd be too much blinded by my beauty (snorts) to think, much less email me about it.

Nope, I got one of the most wonderful phrases in the English language, to a writer, at least. It was: We are happy to offer you a contract with our company.

My heart went pitter pat, I cried, I squealed, I ran around the room like a twit. I even did the happy dance. I'm caucasian, it aint a pretty sight lemme tell ya.

I had submitted my story and had to revamp and then resubmit. I didn't actually think I'd made the cut, but I had. Lo and behold, I'm now in possession of not one but two publishing contracts. Me! The lil bumpkin from down in the back forty. I'm gonna be in print! The big time, the .. eh! I am just about to pass out!

And let me tell you this, every single time you get that email, it feels damn good! It is a validation of you and your writing. Its something you create yourself, from whole cloth, out of your wacked out imagination that nobody else can claim or take from you. It's mine and someone else wants it, therefore it must be valuable. Yes, I do have tears in my eyes. Yes, I did do my dedications and I did cry then too. I'm such a big old whinge as Kitta would say. Kitta is my foreign friend, as I call her. She has all these little weird phrases that I love and sometimes understand on the account of my addiction to BBC TV in my old age and Dr. Who in my misbegotten youth.


As a writer I have my share of witty moments. I know I am verbally skilled at least on paper or the keyboard rather, but, when you have someone else say it, it just seems more true. Thanks so much for all that have stuck by me and helped me to get through the OMG I suck! phases that I go through with alarming frequency.

So, to all those little voices in my head. Here's your chance to shine. To all my insane mad cow friends, here's you chance to hear me whine.

Coming Soon....


Jenna Leigh

Tech stuff is a bit hard..

It is no longer Monday, now it's Tuesday, so are the days of our lives. Pffth! LOL I am putting my picture in the blog so I can see it. Have a good week.

On the book front, I am editing, and editing, and editing... and gahhh!

Come on Friday.

<===This pic's for the Nee. GB *sighs*

Big Thanks to Mechele Armstrong!

Double Snoopy Dance to YOU! LOL She helped me put the tigger up on the blog header. Not an easy feat for a techno challenged person like myself.

Anyhoo, happy Monday all! *gags*

Ok, I tried. LOL To be nice that is. Oh, the thanks still goes to Mechele, who makes even me smile and be sweet for all of five minutes at a time. Then, well, like a sugar high, I fall fast into the depths of depravity.

However, this does bring me to the reason for my blognatiousness today.

Are there people that make you better than you usually are? Nicer (as is the case with Mechele) smarter, happier, more patient? If so, how do they inspire that sort of improvement in what is otherwise one low down, mean assed, smart mouthed chicky from da bayou that just don't care about your opinion be it correct or otherwise.

I am not actively mean by any stretch of the imagination. I don't go around knocking over mailboxes for pension checks. (I did this once in highschool, knocked them down that is, not stole the checks out of them. Is there a statute of limitations on that? Is it a federal offence? eep! ssh, never mind) For me to be actively mean, I would have to you know, TRY. And that is beyond the realm of my giving a damn, if you must know.

But, I do not go out of my way to be NICE to others. I am sweet, but I am not nice. *sighs* I don't drown puppies. I am the person that will beat the livin snot out of the person that caught someone doing that sort of thing, though. I don't pinch babies. (don't volunteer to change their diapers neither)

And a small rant. I am not one of those people like this nurse I heard about that was pulling the fingernails off of the stroke patients because she felt stress. OMG! Ok, this is what I want to know. How in the hell do you justify this? You feel stress so you're torturing a person that cannot move or speak by pulling their fingernails off? Oh, honey chile, you just come on down here and visit with me. I can show you real stress.

On second thought, I am freakin nice. And I tell you this, those sweet darling nice people like Mechele and My Meems among others? She'd be the first in line to *stress* the incorrectness of that woman's behavior. In the nicest (and most er painful) way imaginable I'm sure.

Come on Friday!!

Jenn
Lover of all things between Friday and Sunday.
Down with Monday

Hoorah For Me

I did have another blog, but I changed back to this one and just changed the name to suit my needs. No use adding to the baggage that weighs me down on a daily basis, huh? Onto the news. I have been offered a contract from Midnight Showcase for a novella in one of their upcoming anthologies.

While not due out until sometime next year. I am still way wicked psyched!! Woohoo!! The title of my story is The Moon of the Tigre. It involves a shapeshifter from a distant planet, who still searches for his heart's desire. He is a tiger, of course.

I've had a thing for shapeshifters for quite a while now. But, I never dreamed that it would lead to me being published!!!

I hope you will all come back and visit me on my road to publication. And I also hope this is only the beginning.

On another note, I also hope that my other resolutions are as satisfying as this! I am pretty sure the eat more chocy one will be, but as for the others, nah.

Back to the book,

Jenn

Happy New Year!! 2006

Well, the new year is here. Can you believe it? I can't for sure. It seems like it was only yesterday I was celebrating by writing 2005 on my checks. Hell, it seems like only last week I was saying 2000? Really? Well party like its 1999.

What are your resolutions? I am gonna attempt 10

1. Lose some weight.
2. Exercise (mm, ew, gross)
3. Eat more chocy (I had to put ONE in here I knew I could keep)
4. Be nicer to my family. (It is harder than being nice to strangers somehow)
5. Go outside and sit, without complaining to my hubby about how hot/cold/sticky it is.
6. Smile more.
7. Finish my MS's before starting more. (Haa! yeah right)
8. Listen to the crickets and frogs at night w/out benefit of a noise machine.
9. Smoke less.
10.Be an author, not a writer. Do it, see it, be it.

So, what are yours?


HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!

Take the Jenn Quiz today. Amaze your friends with all that you know about the strange
species of redneck known as Jenn.
Or, if you are bored and wanna waste time, go ahead, have a ball. Make one of your own and email it to me!

http://www.quizyourfriends.com/yourquiz.php?quizname=051231194514-689242

You've got mail

But why do I have it? I don't mean the things you get from your friends, associates or even slim acquaintances. I mean this crap you get from some jacked up porn site that you've spent your life being blissfully ignorant of, well, that game's over. Pfth!

Today I got a few emails worthy of a rant. One I got from Paypal in an account used strictly for business. I have no paypal account with this email, therefore I knew it was a fake. However, it looks very official despite all that. I have a paypal account, and my password is..

*snort*

Well, it ain't spam, that's for sure. Pah!

Others that I get have this sort of subject.

Grow it larger: are they talkin veggies? If so, I suspect they mean the root variety *snicker*

Jendirectmeds: If my name or part of it is in the title, I am sooo gonna trust em. If they but knew the types of meds I actually take, they'd run far far away never to trifle with me again. Yeah, whatever, I hope they read my blog and I scare the crap outta em at least.

Herbal Viagra: Dude, you put your weed in where? :O LMAO

Nasty $mutty teans (the actual spelling, so we know what they've been doin w/them fingers to make em all fumblin and all): Does the little dollar sign make it funkier, jazzier, less like porn and not only porn but apparently illegal porn if they are beneath the age of 18? If so, where is the freakin FBI when I need them? Teen porn is illegal right? Mm.. is this one of those Catch 22 things? What a quandary.

And last but certainly not least

Booty Call: *blinks* Booty call? WTF is that? Do I look like someone that actually answers my phone much less for a flippin booty call? I'm married with a kid, an evil ass kid that makes me wish never to have sex again and p'raps have yet another evil kid. No, she's not that bad, ok, yes, she is! Pah! anyhoo, booty call my er.. ass! Idiots, twanks and nonspellers!!

Hell, they even spammed my blog. But apparently setting the antispam thing stops them. Or else, they are too damn lazy to type in that wiggly code that's up there when you go to comment. Not only are they annoying, but they are also lazy. For shame you spammers!!


If Seuss where alive today, would he have written this book instead?

To: Sam I am
From: Cindyloohoo@whoville*com
Subject line: Spam

I will not read the spam
I will not read it on a train
I will not read it on a plane
I will not read it in a car
I will not read it from a jar
I will not read it with my eyes
I will not read it with all the lies
I will not read the spam
Just, Damn!


Jenn,

Who likes the real spam grilled with cheese

The Wintertime Blahs

Warning: The definition of Blah is to feel bad. However, it starts with a b, so ,Jenn uses her blah feelings as a reason to bitch. Not that she actually needs one. Long ass bitch session to follow.
*****

The cartoon is called Invader Zim. Maybe I have the alien flu or somthing. Whatever it is, I feel like ick. I have a fever, I'm congested, coughing, sniffling, sneezing, etc. I sound like the before person on a Nyquil commercial! Gah! *coughs* I wonder if this puter can catch this virus? *spritzes with the Lysol, just in case* Pause.. *coughs up kidney from the spraying of the Lysol*

Anyhoo, I got an xray. Well, I was told in not so many words to go away and take my plague ridden ass far far from them all. Yes, I was lynched. However, I had to go grocery shopping, there was no food in my house(according to my hubby the hawg) But, he'd decided that seein how I am the sweetest of all wives (haaaa! snort.. *coughs*) he wanted to take me out to eat. *blink* I am sick, I can taste nothing at all, therefore, being Rednecks of the Cajun persuasion we decide on Mexican. This is based on the premise that hot ass food will kill any and all germs, open up your pores and allow the ill humors to be leeched from you body. Ok, so, that aint how Meemaw put it, but you get my drift.

So, here we are, in an area eatery. When asked smoking or non, I reply, smoking. Oh, shut the hell up! I am sick, yes, I am! I don't want to hear how bad ciggies are for me. I can tell you this, you tellin me how bad they are for me is much more hazardous to YOUR health. So, chill out, smoke a ciggie, it will help ya relax, honest. Well, they lead us to the back forty, otherwise known as the smoking section. I sit down and immediately realize its about 40 degrees in this damn place. I ask if we can move, promising that I will not light up my damn cancer stick until I reach the confines of my vehicle. The only other two patrons laugh and say sarcastically. "Too damn cold for ya huh hon?" *cocks brow* Their lips are blue whilst pursed round their Marlboro 100's. Fortunately before I get a chance to answer, we are moved...

****

To the flippin Leper section!! It isn't cold, but its quiet, too quiet. I'm quite sure this is the part of the restaurant where someone was hanged or shot or some eerie business. I'm eating my chips and salsa wondering if I'm next. The tv is tuned to the National Geo. Channel, too, another ominous sign? Yeah, the animal documentary is on, there is a big ass huge snake eatin some equally big ass huge bird. Do they think they can kill the appetite of not one but two master gourmands? Well, think again, darling. I'm scarfin the salsa n chips, and I make the comment to the hubby, "This stuff aint even hot today, mmph." All proud of the fact that I've not gulped down half my Diet coke.

He gasps out an answer and I look up to see sweat on his brow and his eyes are bugged out. Immediately I think OMG Zombie's done et Bill's legs. Preparing to launch myself out of the booth.

What? Honey, I don't have to run faster than the zombies, I just gotta run faster than YOUR ass if they are after us. Then I see him pointing at the salsa. "Yes.. it is hot. You are insane." He finally gets out. I happily shrug and pretty much drink my salsa. (erm, for future reference, don't do this dumbass shit. just cause you can't taste it, don't mean you won't FEEL it later on in the evening.) So, with large brass boobs, I am the great Redneck spicy food champeen, I continue to be a dumbass.

Then, they bring the cheese (ooh slurp drool yes) and we eat and yumm yumm yumm. Then the food. I have fajitas w/shrimp, chicken and beef combo. I aint a pig, its called carry out, I am a future meal planner. So, we eat, and share off each others plates, etc. Then this kid comes running in and out and in and out yelling at some freaking old barn door at the end of the booths, screamin about a scary lady (oh shit! freakin scary? wah? *shrugs* I have salsa, I will dash it in her eyes and run like hell. It burns! It burns! I imagine so, cow, JALAPENOS!! YEHAW!)

Since, they've pissed me off, they aint getting a tip. I am a good tipper, I was a cook and a waitress and I know how that shit is. But they've shit in their financial nest if they think they're getting their 15% from this pissed off chicky that was froze out of the smoking lodge.

Then, it hits. The tummy cramp to end all tummy cramps. I haven't even eaten a third of the fajitas.

Dear Lord in heaven, Habanaro is not thy name, Thy Kingdom come, on earth as it is in pepper chili head heaven.

GAH! Suddenly I recall a salient fact. I haven't eaten since the night before. And that was a simple bowl of hot an sour soup (sensing a theme?) I have no coating on my poor abused stomach, I mean, I'm the lil girl that ate longhorns at my daddy's knee. I have a jar of jalapenos stockpiled in case of emergencies. Salsa is good on black eye peas, mm and a multitude of other things. Pepper sauce is on every table for as far as the eye can see. This aint Cajun Country yall, it's more Hot Sauce in the City.

So, I wince. Hubby freaks and goes to pay the bill while I pile my leftovers into a handy dandy container for private consumption. (near my toilie is the operative term here) He comes back with a frown on his face.

He waits til we're in the car to inform me that we were grossly overcharged. Hubby is nonconfrontational. I am too, usually. However, if he's learned nothing else in our 8 years of marriage, it's this: A sick Jenn will hurt you. She will cut you all the while smiling maniacally and giggling an insane clown giggle that is akin to nails screaming down a chalkboard.

I get a fever and I am pretty much out of my gourd. I go a bit off, get rabid, I lose my volume control and shit happens. Think Tequila and lots of it. I'm drunk, in other words. I don't drink, at all, alcohol interferes with some meds I take so, I am a tee totaler. However, you can be fever drunk, don't think ya can't.

****

Then, he stupidly takes me into the Walmart. Please note, this place and I have shared a long and varied history littered with, if not bodies, then words, foot stomps, purposeful product misplacement (on both our parts. Yeah, I am just petty enough to stick can goods into the men's shoes.) and bitching, ranting, and raving about crap from the temp in the store (too hot) My theory is that it's next door to a hellmouth, that's why its so damn hot there, hence the name of HellMART! *scary echo here* Bloody concubines of the devil go sashaying down the aisle in their satanic red vests. You think they are there to help. Well think again, oh innocent Hellmart Virgin. Ye shall be sacrificed to the gods of commerce on an alter that has tasted the blood of millions. The term squeezing blood from a turnip comes to mind, and YOU just fell off the turnip truck baby!

I tell you this in all honesty: I love kids (long as I aint gotta deal w/em for long periods of time) I like old peeps (long as I aint gotta deal w/em for long periods of time) I love people, well, you get my drift. However, don't bring your ADD, Hyperass/badass/loudass/freakozoid chaps up in the damn store and let them run around like chickens with their heads cut off. I can't see them if they are short, they are apt to be run over 'accidentally' by my shopping cart. Aw.

And if you are old, don't get in that damned chair and canoodle around the Walmart like a Sunday driving twit with all the time in the world. Your asses are retired, I have a job, I'm jealous in the first place. Plus you're draining all the Medicare I pay in by living your life of leisure.. that's two strikes. I will take your old geriatric ass out, get the hell outta my way!

If your ass is larger than 2 ft wide, place it either to the left or the right of the aisle. Do NOT put it out in the center so I can't get around it. I will take your ass out! I have can goods, they are potential weapons of mass destruction. The mass bein your ass when I shove these green beans right on up there! *growls*

Then there was Books A Million. Book Nazi has the flu! HAAAA! *shakes ass at her* *coughs*

Nobody died, this time. There is always next time though.. in the JennZone. Yeah, that music is scary, but then again, so am I!

I'm Dreamin of a White Christmas

Not really. See, the south is not prepared for such things. Not my neck of the woods anyway. I mean, it looks pretty on TV, and if it stays just on the grass, it's pretty here. However, we don't really do snow down here. We get icy rain, sleet, and snow all mixed. It half melts in the day, then at night refreezes to resemble that fondant icing on those fancy cakes these days. Only, make the fondant slicker than whale shit and harder then all get out and you have what we get.

We don't have snowplows, snowmobiles and all that stuff. Heck, we're stupid enough to tie the hood of a car (yall know we keep in the yard for just such a reason) to a bigfoot truck and go if not sledding, then Street Skiing.

The cops watch, the EMT's just wait. *CRASH* Then all sorts of redneck yellin, cussin, and laughing. If its bad, then its praying.

So, if we have a White Christmas, I am gonna turn into the Grinch, hitch poor Zoe to a car hood and we are going to my mama's come hell or high water. Too bad the river don't freeze, then I could just walk across.

I'm a Mean One,

Jenn
Aka
Empress Mey

Oh Christmas Tree Oh Christmas Tree

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
Every where you go..
La la whatever.

Pretty, huh? That's the Gallaria Mall in TX, at least I think it is. I haven't been there in a long time.

The last time I went, I was 8 or so. It seemed so big then. I was much smaller, of course.

Well it's almost time. Just a few more days and it will be present swapping, wassel drinking, baby kissing, candy making *gasp* and all the good stuff.

My favorite thing is spending time with my family. I love my mama and my aunts, uncles and cousins. My little bro? Well, I guess him too, after all he gave me the babies. I soo think they are the bestest in the world.

How do you spend Christmas? With family or with loved ones. At a home, or on the town? Will you be working?


Also, take some time to think of our troops STILL over in the sandtrap. That must royally suck. Hope they come home soon, safe and sound.


So, be careful, have a good time, eat lots, and above all.

SPREAD THE JOY!!

Jenn the Redneck Reindeer

Tis the Season to be Jolly Fallllalalalalalalalla eh whatever

The stockings are hung, the tree is trimmed, the pressies are wrapped,
and parent's is skint!

Big bucks shelled out for crap they play with for a week then tear up and throw away. Or, they don't like it, it don't fit, and YOU have to go back and exchange it.

Ew!

My favorite part of Christmas is opening the presents. However, what do you do when the whole thing is over, besides paying the bills, that is. We like to just vege out on the couch; and lie to ourselves stating we will start earlier on the pressie buying for next year.

A lie, a rank untruth! Anyways, have a Merry Christmas, yall, the countdown has begun. Not much longer til the tinsel, mistletoe, wassel, carols, snow, lights and all will come to an end leaving you wondering why you feel so let down.

Merry Christmas!!!

Jenn
Santa's Favorite Ho Ho Ho

Deck the Halls

Fa la la la la la la la laaaa!!!!

Merry Christmas, tis the season for little bitty lights to be put up all over the place. The things are beautiful, for all that they are tiny and aggravating as all get out.

Each year, at Mama's they put up the lights, the decorations, the santas, the snowmen, all of it. Me? You're lucky if I put up a tree. Why? Lazy, basically. I love Christmas, but I don't like to decorate.

We have our tree up right now, with the lights and the angel on top. I don't have any ornaments on it because I can't find the darned things.

I've almost finished my shopping too. WOOHOOO. I got my mother's and hubby's out of the way, now the step father, the grandfather in law, and all that to go yet.

Oh, and get this, I have MY present out of the way too. *growls* I had to shop for my own present, hubby's are insane, you know.

Ho Ho Ho Yall.

Jenna Claus

I belong to Angela Knight's yahoo group. Some zany person, (thank YOU) put this link up. I spit coffee on the screen and said OMG! It's ME!! Then I looked around for the hidden cameras. Warning, this isn't child friendly, or is it yuppie friendly. LOVE ITTTTT!!!
****

Went to the Hellmart today. Hated it. Despise this time of year, all the screaming kids, the parents that tune them out, the freaks that like to cut me off with their buggies, the bitch of a checker that pissed me off not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES! I didn't kill her... they should have gave me free chocy at the door for that.

When you don't kill someone, you should get a reward. Like the Pavlov dog thing. I WANT MY NONMURDEROUS CHOCY YOU BASTARDS!!! *growls*

Now, to top the cotton. My exhusband's wife is getting a little pissy with my child. Tellin her she needs to call them. Well, she needs to learn, that phone works both ways. Have they sent my baby a Christmas, Birthday, or even a Are you still alive card. Any of this shit would have been nice. Unlike my child, YOU have a job, unlike my child YOU are an adult (exhubby is not much of one, hence the ex portion on the front of that) Oh, and hey, pay me a lil more child support and I might be able to afford the long distance phone call to YOUR house. Till then, piss off and die!!!

AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH. Tis the season to be killin...

La lalalalaallaaaaaaaaaaaaallaa la la la *bang* *gag* *gurgle* *thump*


Love yall, but please stay well beyond the perimeter of my cage, I am in a biting mood.

Jenn