Saucy. Disco.

This post is sort of pointless, but if you all haven’t noticed by now, I’ve moved to

Jen-Y.org

See you around.

Ok, I’m ready to install wordpress. Got my theme ready to go. Where the holy crap am I gonna find a decent host? PLEASE!!! I can’t stand my design handicapped blog anymore! Everytime I look at it, I want to puke and cry all at the same time.

I almost went through BlueHost. Then I read the Terms of Service:

I’m sorry, WHAT?! Is there not a first amendment entitling free speech? Fuck you BlueHost! FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCKY MCFUCKERSONS!!!

Anyway, I’ll have a brand-spankin’ new site up soon. Complete with all of my awesome-ness.

I just saw this thread post on myspace about why black dogs should be adopted. Apparently, they’re a hard sell:

The Top 10 Reasons to Adopt a Black Dog:

Number Ten – Black dogs are easy to find in the snow.

Number Nine – Owning a black dog makes YOU look thinner!

Number Eight – Black dogs never look dirty.

Number Seven – Black dogs always win at night-time hide and seek games.

Number Six – Black goes with everything so you and your dog will never clash.

Number Five – You can sing AC/DC “Back in Black” to your dog everyday.

Number Four – Black is a formal, elegant, and prestigious color!

Number Three – A black dog will bring you good luck.

Number Two – A black dog is every color of the spectrum and beautiful!

NUMBER ONE – Black dogs are just as loyal and loving as any other color of dog!

LOLZ, #5 is effin’ sweet! #8 is just not true, especially when your black dog belly slides under the patio furniture and comes up with a back full of some weird, dusty substance. But seriously, “dog racism” breaks my heart! Who WOULDN’T want this face drinking out of the toilet every morning?

Welp, Crystal tagged me, so heregoes!

1. I just ate a piece of string cheese.
2. I defaulted on my student loan (uh, oops).
3. My phone’s dead.
4. I’m a semi-vegetarian.
5. I took a smoke break between #3 and #4.
6. I stayed in bed ALL DAY.
7. The chinese delivery place gave me pork fried rice. Ew. I almost vommed. Blech.
8. I have super anxiety.
9. I’m watching the Chelsea Handler show.
10. My voice just came back.

Anyway, it’s a seriously awesome night outside:

The windows are open, the fan is on, and t-rav and I are all snuggly under the covers. And what am I doing? Trying to figure out photoshop. I’m a TOTAL n00b. I swear. Maybe if I learn a few things, my blog will no longer look like absolute crap. I can’t even figure out how to use a flickr widget! I stole T’s schoolbook called “Basic Design Theory and Methods” and learned to do this with a picture of DJ:

Original

PSed all to hell

Eh, it may not be AMAZING or anything, but dammit, I’m learning.

Alexis lost her second tooth today. I got to play tooth fairy. Weird. I don’t know how I’ll react to stepmom-ism come July.

This winter has been annoyingly tumultuous for me. There were money troubles, issue with my license, family drama, hell, I even almost sabotaged my relationship with Travis because of a temporary fear of commitment. How did I deal with it all? LIQUOR. LOTS OF IT.

I’ll admit, I’ve always been the girl to face her problems head on, deal with whatever proverbial dog shit my life happens to step in, and walk away with my middle finger in the air shouting “EFF-YOU” to my troubles. But lately, I’ve been hiding in a big, juicy bottle of merlot. Running from responsibility, double-fisting jagerbombs and miller lite.

I HAVE TO CHILL OUT ON DRINKING FOR AWHILE.

I don’t know when or how I came to that decision. Maybe it was my dad’s comment from last Sunday: “Gee kid, your skin looks gray and ashy.” Maybe it was curiously stepping on the scale only to find that my drinking habits had wreaked total havoc on my BMI. Ew. No wonder I felt fat. However, apparently, I’ve drank my mind and body into total co-dependence. Here’s my first week…

Day 1 Sunday, March 30: I work my shift hung over and cranky as hell. My face is pale, my legs are shaky, my skin is dry. Thank god I have an endless supply of water. Later on, I have dinner at my dad’s. His careless comments coupled with my weight increase make me feel like absolute CRAP. I vow to start taking care of myself.

Day 2 Monday, March 31: I start my day with excitement. I eat breakfast, take a vitamin, and skip off to work (ok, I didn’t skip, I drove, but whatever, I’m creating a visual here). I work my shift as usual. Do I drink? Hell no! I’m on a mission!!!

Day 3 Tuesday, April 1: Today feels like the hardest day of my life. I roll silverware at work actually fighting myself.

“Come on Jen, have a drink. You can always stop drinking later…”

“No, when are you ever going to have this determination again? You’ve been promising yourself you’d slow down all winter.”

“But you don’t even have to work tomorrow until 5! You can party all night!”

“And think of how guilty you’ll feel tomorrow. Think of how great it’ll be to tell yourself that you went three whole days without drinking.”

This inner conflict continues on the half hour drive home. I arrive at the last stop sign before my apartment complex. Turn left, go home. Go straight, go to the liquor store. I sit at the stop sign weighing my options for awhile. Finally, I force the steering wheel left. One block later, I’m in front of my place, both hands on the wheel, shaking my head, fighting the urge again. I feel like Cameron from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off:

Finally, I drag my ass upstairs and curl up with leftovers and a movie. SOBER.

Day 4 Wednesday, April 2: I feel like I want to stay in bed all day. My body doesn’t want to feel things. I’m irritable and I have one hell of a headache. At work, Selena asks when the two of us are going to go out again. Had she not had to work her second job, we’d have gone drinking. Other than that, the fight’s easier. Plus, it’s hard to want to do anything when your heads splitting open and you’re so anxious you could pull your hair out. Pain and anxiety aside, I’m really proud of myself. I’ve even noticed that I’ve lost weight.

Day 5 Thursday, April 3: Day 5’s over. Thought about drinking once. I’m SOFA KING tired.

Day 6 Friday, April 4: Played digital monopoly all night, SOBER. Pants are looser.

Day 7 Saturday, April 5: Dad makes a comment about my drinking, I hang up the phone. My cheeks are burning. That man really pisses me off. I think about getting wasted just to spite him. Decide I’m better than that.

Day 8 Sunday, April 6: It’s a beautiful day. Travis and I spend the night on the bike. I don’t think about drinking once.

Whew. That was a tough week.

I almost LOLd til I pissed myself. Garfield minus Garfield

Hi, I’m Jennifer. I’m a 24 (soon to be 25!) year old waitress from some crappy town in Indiana. I’d tell you where, but you’d just laugh at me. I’m not married. I don’t like kids, therefore I have none. What I do have is a wonderful boyfriend (lame) named Travis:

He’s not normally this salty. Ok, maybe he is. But he’s a great source of cynical wisdom. I share my place with two cats. Daisy, the little ball of sass. And DJ, the large and in charge laid-back cuddle machine.

He’s such a ladies man.

She could care less.

Adding to the collection, a rambunctious, two year old, rottweiler-hound mix with “selective hearing.” Here’s Romeo (Romie):

He’s the reason I’ll have gray hairs by 26. And last but not least, rounding out the quartet of obnoxiousness is my hilarious money-mooching 20 year old brother Michael.

Every family has one. Mine just lives with me. He’s a source of both frustration and sanity…however that works.

So there. That’s me. That’s my life thus far. So what’s with “Saucy.Disco.”? It’s a phrase I came up with long ago to describe my outlook on life. Live it with attitude. To the music in your head. Shut up haters. You wish you had an internal soundtrack.