It reads my blog or else it gets the hose again...

I posted the blog below on myspace and got some yummy funny comments - and decided to share! Yipee! Childishness!!

xoxoxoxo

From my friend Derek....

I don't think that I know this girl Janice, but I don't think that you really want to know my opinon, But since I am a Derek, I am going to speak my mind accordingly. This is the shit that I can't stand. People wonder why I wish not to get on the internet as much as I do. This childish "revoking friendships" or " I'm off her list" shit has got to fucking go out out the window. I am not a jealous person so maybe I can't understand why people act this way, but regardless, it's so damn immature and jsut plain ignorant. Weather you took her off your list and whatever the reasoning is. YOU KNOW EACH OTHER IN THE REAL WORLD!!!! call and discuss it, don't bitch and fight over the internet. I am very sorry that you have to deal with this Janice. I get this shit all the time. Yes I do have too amny friends, but I keep in close contact with all of them, . Thats why I get 16 or more pages of emails from friends each week. I keep my niternet friends mainly on my top list, so I can find there profile faster to send them a message. If wanted to talk to a "real friend" I'd just call their ass's. Well I think the great Derek has said enough. LOVE THE JANICE!!

Posted by Satans Pet Dog on Wednesday, December 13, 2006 at 12:28 PM

From my first bestest friend Gabe...

Bout time you released your thoughts on this subject matter. I say its about time.

From Mr. Joe the Marine...

You have a great way of wording things so even a 2 year old could understand them, while at the same time, sounding like a very wise adult. Nicely done. Its really sad, but sometimes 2 friends grow apart and realize they dont have much in common anymore. Sounds like this is what happened between you two, although I suppose in many other cases, the other party doesnt whine and cry like your "friend" does. Let alone make up lies only to believe them herself. That sounds to me like a serious disorder, and probably the only person who could ever really help her would be a psychiatrist. You are probably better off without this person, especially if she got so upset over something as stupid as a MySpace List.

From my buddy Mr. Jay...

online shit sucks. trust me i know. it is immature and childish to do these kinds of things ove the internet. it seems like no on can just grow up and settle theie differneces like adults and face to face in stead of the internet. i give you props for the way you hanlded it. the email was very well said. i couldn't have said it better myself.

From my friend Darren...

Janice, If thats the way she acts then I feel you are doing the right thing, Yeah we are all busy in life. I woirk 60hrs a week(min) and run my blogs and live life sorry I missed your birthday but you know me... As for this and anything else you know I am here for you

From my second bestest friend Adam... (Also my favorite comment thus far)

It's unfortunate, but one of the most widely-recognized acts in Western culture is, as a matter of base human nature, reproduced most often out of context. Martyrdom is thus, ironically, more palatable to the self-serving than the selfless, especially when coupled with delusions of grandeur and a persecution complex. I've seen it before and lost (discarded, to be honest) a friend because of it. It's an unfortunate and common state of inertia, utilizing those same faculties of subjective reasoning that could easily improve one's station, but which instead are put to work cushioning the walls of the cell, until finally even the unlocked door has been furnished over.

I'm sure there's someone out there who could criticize me as harshly. But I, like your friend, am spared the pain of facing it by day to the credit of my own faculties for self-deception, and face it only in the night when the truth comes unbidden. Her lot will be all the worse, as she has squandered the precious resource of your friendship; I, on the other hand, have no intention at any further waste. There in a nutshell is the precious gift of choice we most often discard at our own peril, for the sake of rationalization's temporary comforts. Your friend hasn't chosen at all, though she obviously likes to believe so, or would like others to believe so. Yours is the choice, and you made it well. Where you are freed of her dead weight, she will always wear it around her neck. She'll call it the world, and it's no longer your responsibility to do battle just to correct her misdiagnosis.

Can you tell by today's writing style that I've been reading Hannibal? Jesus. Do tell me when the lambs stop screaming, Clarice.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

God I love my friends.

xoxo

I’ll respond to this juvenile display of your feelings on blogs as opposed to calling you or e-mailing you because you (a) don’t return phone calls and (b) don’t return e-mails.

The reason behind our falling out is not some stupid internet fight as you put it, but simply our differences, your dishonesty and your immaturity. You got pissed that you were “moved down on a myspace friends list” and that immediately reminded me of a whining 14 year old emo girl writing bad poetry while she cuts herself. As far as dishonest, you’ve said yourself that you tend to have a habit of creating lies that you yourself end up believing. The fact that you are so miserable with your life but would rather make up a false reality then deal with the problems is sad and disturbing.

As far as your “efforts” they were minimal if not non-existent. There is not one time you called me or made any effort to “hang out” and when I did call you it was like pulling teeth to try and get you to go out (and when you finally did, you had fun)

You’ve complained about your lack of friends, lack on romantic involvements and hatred for your home for over 10 years but have done nothing to help any situation. I’m tired of constantly having to fight to get you out of slumps and putting energy into a person that, were I to meet today, would probably dislike.

I’ve done everything I could to try and make sure that you didn’t slip back into the “depression” you were into in HS – even forcing friends to attend birthday parties for you so you wouldn’t be alone – and you didn’t even have the decency to call me on my birthday this year. Then, after I make efforts to help and things either don’t turn out the way you wanted or someone tells you “Hey, you should thank Janice for doing this for you” you turn into a an ungrateful child spewing such things as “Well, I never ASKED her to do it.”.

The last post I made had nothing to do with you (it was in reference to Brian mostly and his slut of a girlfriend but that’s a whole other story) but the truth is I really don’t want anything to do with you.

A true friend is someone who is there for you when they need you and actually care about you – I’ve put you before myself and others a million times over only to have my efforts returned with your negative attitude and immature reactions. I’m sick of it, honestly, and can’t be bothered.

I get it – you work an 8 hour day… like everyone else.

You go to night school… Like everyone else.

You’re tired… Like everyone else.

Why don’t you use that wood from the cross you’ve nailed yourself to to build a bridge and GET OVER IT.

You honestly don’t work half as hard as some other people yet all you can do is complain – be happy for the family you have, the roof over your head, and the friends you have – and in some cases had. Keep up this attitude and you will end up like the women I see at my office – alone, blaming the rest of the world for your problems and calling co-workers “friends”.

Now quick, comment on this, make your own blog, call your long distance friends that even you admit to disliking or - better yet call one of the many 18 year old children you hang out with to make yourself feel more "adult" to bitch about this "argument". Just, you know, don't call me and discuss it like a grown up would do.

So it’s been a while since I did an actual updatey type of blog so I figured “Hey, why not!”.

So, er, here it is. And junk.

Still working my tail off at the consulting firm. Sometimes I wonder if dealing with uber amounts of stress and having little or no time for sleep is really worth the money. Then I realize that I have to offer tribute to the Gods of Cingular, Honda, Allstate and Landlord and get the idea of quitting my job and moving to Aruba out of my mind.

My days are going to get increasingly difficult, though, since not only did I register for a full-time schedule at Suffolk in pursuit of my Business Degree, but I also signed up to take Real Estate classes at A.R.E. to start working towards my brokers license. Figured it would be a nice part-time gig on the weekends to show people houses and apartments. I mean, that’s what I do with my free time anyway (God knows I love a good open house) so why not try to make some money off that, too?

Paul and I bought a couch and are picking it up tonight and (hopefully) bringing it to the new house – if we can get a hold of our realtor to let us in. We don’t officially get the keys until this Friday night but I don’t think the lady will mind us carting said sofa to said house. Also, no longer accepting applications for volunteer movers and painters – we’re pretty much set this weekend. Hopefully I’ll be done soon enough to catch Mr. Nick’s birthday bash this Saturday night and see a bunch of people that I just haven’t been able to squeeze into the uber-busy schedule that is my life.

The one good thing that resulted from my busyness is the loss of many non-essential people from my life. Managed to cut down the so-called friends list by 3 more these past few months and feel like a weight has been lifted. Ever have a friend that you didn’t know how to tell you just don’t like them? I did – and then I told them I didn’t like them. Problem solved. Now the only issue is what to do with the Xmas gifts I all ready bought for them…

So lets recap:

Moving into new house
Taking full time classes
Taking Real Estate classes
Holidays quickly approaching
Money quickly draining
Must make time for party
3 Friends eliminated from my own personal reality show

Go that? Good.

xoxo

Yes I know - I never update here since I've joined the other Myspace lemmings... but for those few that don't read my blogs via "the other site" here's a hint on the latest info...



Any questions?

xoxo

I know, I know - the surprise and shock you are feeling right now is in great abundance. "Janice is actually updating her livejournal account?!?!" is probably what is going through your mind.

That or "Who the hell is this person on my friends page?" for those of you who forgot who I am. To you people: Bite me.

But for the rest of you I want to apologize for my lack of attention to this little webpagey thing. Like so many other lemmings in this world I have become a slave to Myspace. I know, I know - groan now. But the truth is it's a lot more convenient than LJ and allows me to do so much more than just rant and rave. I can rant and rave and show pictures.

Anywho, I will try to update on here as I update on their - I'll do the cut and paste thing. But in the mean time, if you want more up to date stuffs, www.myspace.com/clockworklemon

Toodles.

So Saturday morning I do what I normally do when I wake up - and that is battle with this sudden urge to shop. And I don't mean urge like "Hmm, I think I want a bagel". I mean urge like I NEED A NEW BLOUSE NOW NOW NOW!!!

So after texting Gilly and getting no responses, and with no desire to go shopping with my thinner, more stickish friends, I headed out on my own.

My main destination was out in New Hyde Park where this awesome little boutique is. After getting there and finding it closed, I decided (Since I was in the relative area) to stop off at Rita's and pick up an Italian ice.

Mmm... Cherry ice...

After that, I headed down Hillside and saw Old Navy. Thinking "Why the hell not - I came out here to do some shopping so at least I could browse", I went inside and perused.

Apparently, a very nice man named Matt had the same idea.

After chatting with Mr. Matt about the strange mis-matching clothes offered in Old Navy now a days I gave him my card (Thanks Gabe!!!) and headed off to finish my (now melting) Italian ice.

Spent Saturday evening out with Brian, Gabe and Mike, played some pool, hit Dave and Busters, had a generally good time. Headed home.

Sunday I vegged - the first vegging I have had in a long while. Picked up the apartment a bit, played online (warbears is the greatest game ever) and then was startled by my ringing cell phone (It was under my pillow and on LOUD and Vibrate).

I pick up the strange number and, low and behold, it's Matt from Old Navy. He was wondering what I was up to tonight. Having no plans (it being Sunday and all) we arranged dinner out at Fridays.

Had, surprisingly, a good time. Ate dinner, had some awesome conversation, lots of laughs - all in all Matt turned out to be quite a gentleman (even opened doors for me all night long). Our evening ended with us out at Bayshore Marina just chit-chatting about goals, life, future, etc. It was in the middle of one of these conversations that, from a car a few hundred feet away from us, a naked girl stepped out SCREAMING her head off.

What she screamed I couldn't help but laugh at.

"NO JOEY! YOU VIOLATED ME BY TRYING TO FUCK ME IN THE ASS!!!"

Said girl then grabbed her clothes, got dressed, and began making her way down the parking lot headed (I am assuming) towards the exit of the Marina.

I couldn't help but laugh. I know I should have been concerned but this girl was obviuosly not in any real trouble since (1) She didn't come to our car, or any of the others parked in her relative vicinity and (2) She ended up back in the car with him 20 minutes later.

Still, it made for a memorable first date.

The evening ended with a kiss on the cheek and him asking me to call him again soon - which I think I just might. I'm not saying that I expect anything great to happen (nor am I saying I am expecting nothing) but fate has a funny way of working. Who am I not to help it along?

Ladies of America - this post is directed to you. I would like to request, on behalf of myself and every red-blooded American man in this fine country, that you do the following : STOP PRETENDING LIKE YOU DON’T EAT!

Tell me if this doesn’t sound familiar guys (and you few gals out there who are also bothered by your femme friends with this disease). You’re out to dinner with a young woman who, like most Americans, doesn’t look like she’s starving - if you know what I mean (hint hint, wink wink). You order a big, juicy hamburger with extra crispy fries. Your female companion orders an ice cube with a side of lettuce and then says “Oh My, I couldn‘t possibly have another bite - I am sooooo fuuuuull.” ARGH! WTF?!?!?

So, ladies, if you will - please give up this façade. If you are a big boned lady (like yours truly) embrace it. Stop trying to hide the fact that you are fat by not eating in front of people or by acting as though you don’t go home and scarf down a Big Mac and Fries and a whole bag of Doritos. We KNOW you don’t eat just salad. We KNOW you aren’t full after two bites. We KNOW you want to order desert. Just do it for crying out loud!

Oh and here is my all time favorite - the self-hating chubby chick. The one who finds it necessary to remind us that “My thighs are so big” or “Oh my God, my ass looks so fat in this dress.”. As though by mentioning their bigness will make those around them say “Oh, she DOES realize she’s fat. Okay, now I think she is cool.”

So please, stop insulting yourself. Stop acting like you don’t eat. Stop apologizing for when you do eat. Stop saying “Oh I haven’t eaten anything all day” to justify why you have broken down and ordered a Double Whopper. You’re not fooling anyone, except maybe only yourself.

(And now a silly picture of me)

It's been a while since I've updated with anything other than entertaining (or at least I think entertaining) antics involving superheros or nipples. So, in true Janice tradition, a short game of catch up (since nothing way to interesting has been happening).

School

Going well. Passed all classes with test scores in the mid to high 90's and have had one of my narrative essays entered into some Honors Society English something or other. I never read directions anymore.

Work

What work? Janice is thankful that "work" for her is sitting in a Dix Hills house doing her homework whilst the 5 year old whom I am supposed to be watching makes herself cozy in front of the TV set.

Love

Still with Lenny who is slowly (a) Going crazy an (b) Making ME crazy. Lenny's been rather stressed about his father lately who had a bad spill one night a few weeks ago at Atlantic City. Apparently he was wheeling himself backwards in the walker thing, had a wheel get stuck in a grate, and then fell backwards smacking his head on the pavement. He's all right, but now he wants to press charges against AC. So I, in my ever blunt wisdom said, "You're father wants to press charges against a casino because he was using a piece of equipment incorrectly while walking backwards? ANd he thinks it's the casino's fault that he fell?" Yeah - that started a pretty little argument where I was accused of being a cynical bitch. Imagine that - me cynical. Huh.

Other

Nothing to othery going on. Hitting the bars this coming Friday night (Fallons in Floral Park on Tulip Ave for anyone else interested) with a few peoples - but the big excitement is my favorite Britishman Matt who is right now sitting in Gillian's apartment watching Jerry Springer and other fine American programming. WOOHOO!

So what's going on with everyone else? Anything interesting?

I decided the other day that I need to be a super hero. Not one of those introspective Asian super hero's who hands out judgement and shit. I just want to beat the crap out of other people wearing spandex. Like you know those fat people who wear biking pants to run so they're fat is spilling out everywhere? Yeah I'm gonna beat the shit out of them. And maybe take their wallet.

But what I realized is that every super hero needs a sidekick who makes the super hero look awesome in retrospect. After spending several hours looking at myself in a full length mirror, I knew I was in trouble. The only way someone could make me look imposing was if they were a midget.

Or Jewish.

So I went out to catch a midget. I don't know exactly where they breed or eat or whatever, so I armed myself with all the essentials.

A stapler with 76 staples in it (I counted)
Three slices of wonderbread.
A SPAS 12.
The hammer that inspired MC Hammer's name.
A vial of mutated anthrax.

I packed all my shit into a backpack tha....Oh wait fuck I should include that in the list.

A backpack.

There okay the list is done. Anyways so I packed all my shit into a backpack except for 2 slices of bread which I ate and then had to replace because you don't want to get caught without enough bread. I went out to try and find myself a midget. Preferably a Jewish midget if I could, but I'm not picky. So first I went to the grocery store. It was a Saturday night (Why aren't I hanging out with my friends on a Saturday night? I think you can answer that for yourself.) and the grocery store was pretty quiet so I had to sneak around to not be found in the hunt for a new midget pal. It was at some point that I was trying to swim around in the huge bin of nuts they have that a Pathmark employee approached me.

"Miss? Why have you taken your clothes off?" She asked, I froze, half submerged in the giant barrel of walnuts. I slowly started to sink into the nutty mixture and hide myself, only having the very top of my head exposed. Then I waited silently for her to go away.

"Miss I can see you right there. You just went deeper into the barrel. Please come out and put your clothes on." She said, but I waited longer. The graceful alligator knows that eventually his prey will forget all about the naked woman in front of them, and will let down their guard. And I was like that.

A graceful alligator I mean. Although I was technically a naked woman too, but she didn't know that. Or wait. She said earlier I was naked. Okay she knew.

My patience paid off as the Pathmark woman finally got fed up and reached over to try and pull me out.

"Come on Miss, here are your clothes, I'll show you to the door." She said as she reached into the giant barrel. I suddenly exploded out, walnuts flying everywhere as I unleashed my cheaply animated anime power which simultaneously clothed me and turned her into a can of sardines.

I looked down at my clothes. They were a Japanese school girls sailor outfit.

"Oh fuck me...Why don't I ever get stylish clothes when I do that?" I wondered aloud. More Pathmark employees were coming at the sound of my awesomeness, some were carrying flamethrowers. One of them had a 120 millimeter Howitzer cannon slung over his shoulder. I knew my time to leave was now.

After a very exciting, and frankly awesome escape which I may or may not describe in a later post because I am lazy, I escaped to the parking lot. I had to admit that my little outfit did give me a very cute look.

I ran over to the nearby street and flagged down a car. The driver (a white guy who looked about 50) opened the passenger door and beckoned me in. I leaped inside, simultaneously hitting my head on the car door, seat belt, and airbag.

"Oh be careful there. You don't want to hurt your pretty head." The man said in a smooth tone. I stared at him with a look of constipation, because occasionally that look is needed to shake things up.

"Yeah. How did I do that anyways?" I asked rubbing the area that was battered. The man was smiling at me in an odd fashion.

"So..." He asked, "Did you come here on an exchange program?"

"What?" I exclaimed, then I looked down at myself. The damn Japanese school girl's outfit. My extremely white skin and big round eyes seemed to clash with any thoughts of me being Japanese, but he apparently didn't notice.

"You know. American's are very nice. I can be nice to you. Do you want me to be nice to you?" He asked rubbing his hand on my leg. I began to reach for the SPAS 12 in my backpack.

"Look buddy. I'm not a fucking whore. I won't sell myself and my dignity for your sick pleasures. I'm trying to find a bunch of midgets and that's it." My fingers were wrapping around the SPAS. This fucker was dead.

"I'll take you to the midget colony. And I'll pay you $300." He said. $300?!?!?

"ME SO HAWNY! ME LOVE YOU LONG TIME!" I yelled out hurridly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once he stopped in front of the midget colony, I climbed out of the car. As he began to drive off I yelled after him.

"HAHA SUCKER! I WOULD HAVE DONE IT FOR 10 BUCKS!" He didn't stop and so I turned around and looked at the midget colony. It was built into the side of a mountain with flak guns, machine guns, rail guns, nail guns, glue guns, and chalk guns bristling all over it. It was a fucking fortress.

So I snuck my way in (Hey if you walk through New York City in a Japanese sailor outfit, not a single person will look at you. The midgets standing on guard actually looked away in embarrassment as I passed) and went to the front desk where a midget receptionist was sitting.

"Hello welcome to Short-n-Sweet mountain resort. How may I help you?" She asked. I didn't like the cut of her giblet so I shot her in the face with the SPAS. She turned into a bunch of pixie fairies that flew away and eventually formed the FCC.

That's an anatomy lesson for you. Midgets are made of pixie fairies. 7 of them to be exact.

I began running through the hallways of the mountain fortress. It took a while, but I emerged into a huge cavern where all the midgets were. My mouth dropped open at the sheer sight of thousands of midgets, many mining for gold, going on quests and just generally doing midget stuff. Off in the distance I saw something that made my mouth drop....even....more.

A midget with a yamacha. Yamaha? Yamakca? He had a Jewish hat.

"HOLY LIVING FUCK! YOU ARE MINE! POKEBALL GO!" I yelled out and pointed at him. All the midgets turned and stared at me as I threw the pokeball I had gotten at burger king about 6 years ago and saved for just such an occasion. The pokeball's cheap plastic broke apart when it hit him and failed to capture him, so I assumed I was not the pokemon master.

"FUCK YOU NINTENDO FOR GETTING MY GIRLISH HOPES UP!" I screamed. All the midgets decided to attack me because I can't think of a way to segue to a huge fight scene. I took out the vial of anthrax and laughed.

"Haha! Take this!" And I threw it as hard as I could at the stone floor. Unfortunately the vial was industrial plastic and failed to crack or shatter in any way spilling its terrorist death to all midgets in the vicinity.

"Oh butternuts..." I mumbled as I pulled out my SPAS and began to blow away midget after midget. I really hated wasting ammo so I just shot them 3 at a time. I mean midgets are only like, half a person, so it really all evens out if you do the math, which I didn't.

After a 15 minute epic battle I ran out of ammo and was cornered with midgets advancing on me. I used my stapler to kill 84 midgets through a series of ingenious and spectacularly well thought out traps that I devised, but I ran out of staples.

I was in trouble.

That's when the midget crowd parted and the Jewish rabbi midget stepped forward. He had a lightsaber in hand. I did the only thing I could do, drawing the hammer from my backpack and weilding it with the fury of the gods.

"CAN'T TOUCH THIS!" I screamed out as Jewish midget lightsaber and MC Hammer hammer met in mighty combat. He used his midget powers to kick me in the shins and pull my hair. I used my hammer powers and nailed some picture frames to a wall. All in all, it was a mighty battle.

Finally I knocked the lightsaber out of his little midget fingers and blinded him by shoving Wonderbread in his eyes. Then I picked him up and stuffed him in my backpack. Swinging the MC hammer wildly, I carved a path through all the midgets and out to the exit. As I ran away, with mortar shells, 50 caliber bullets, and hot spurts of glue whizzing all around me, I knew this was all worth it.

Once I got home, I trained my little Jewish midget to be my butler and help out at parties that I planned to have once I got some friends.

Sick Janice + Nyquil + Bored + MS Paint = This

This is the British man who worships the ground I walk on - ain't he sexy?

This is a short story I wrote the other night. It is told through the thoughts of my boyfriend, Lenny. And you do NOT want to know how the topic of Lenny's nipples came up. Trust me.

Ever since I've been sleeping in my girlfriends bed I have slept fantastic. She has one of those tempurpedic memory foam mattress things and it's comfy as hell. I've been falling asleep before midnight most nights, when previously it's been not much before 3am since I was about eight or nine years old. That for me is great.

So Sunday night I was fast asleep, when suddenly I woke up at about three o'clock, in agony. It felt like someone had just taken a knife to my chest. I sat bolt upright and flicked the light on next to the bed (thankfully I didn't wake up my sleeping girlfriend like I usually do when I bolt upright in the middle of the night).

Looking down, my chest seemed fine, no wounds, blood, bruises, anything. Yet something didn't look quite right. So I got up and went into the bathroom to check in the mirror.

Carefully checking everything, I finally realised. It looked like my left nipple was lower than my right one. And it was so obvious that it could not have been like that before. Gently I pressed at the nipple and it slid upwards and back into place.

After the initial shock I pressed at it again, but nothing happened. Now it seemed to be back in its place it was apparently fixed in place. I turned the light off and made my way back to my bed. As soon as the light went off I heard a sigh of relief coming from my chest.

I instantly pulled the light back on and dived in front of the mirror again. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw my left nipple was part way across my chest.

"Shit!" I heard, and it flew back into place.

"What the fuck is going on?" I yelled as loud as I dare at night time, not wanting to wake Janice (my girlfriend) up.

Just silence.

"I said what the fuck is going on?"

More silence.

Taking a deep breath I flicked my left nipple as hard as I could. Now, I may not be the strongest guy, but my flicks are the things of legends. I swear I could have brought Godzilla down with a finger and thumb.

Muffling my own scream of pain, I heard another one coming from my nipple.

"What the hell?" It yelled at me. "You aren't supposed to do shit like that to yourself!"

"Then tell me what's going on." I said.

"We're in love." My right one suddenly said.

"What?" I asked.

"Love. We're in love. Me and Left can't get enough of each other. And we aren't going to let you or anyone else stand in our way."

"Left?"

"That's me." My left nipple said.

"I got that, thanks."

"And I'm Right."

"No shit." I was sure someone had spiked my drink the night before. "How the fuck can you be in love?"

"Since you started sleeping longer, we've gotten to know each other." Right said. "And we never realised how much we have in common before."

"You're both nipples and you're both on my chest. What could you not have in common? And also, aren't you both male? Don't you kind of inherit that trait from me?"

"So?" Right said. "Love should not be separated by gender."

"Don't get me wrong," I begin rubbing my forehead, trying to deal with my oncoming headache in advance. "I'm not homophobic,"

"Here we go." Left moaned.

"But I'm not sure I can really agree with having gay body parts."

"Let me put it this way." Right started to sound nasty. "There is absolutely FUCK ALL YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT. Except make it easier for us, of course."

"What do you mean?"

"Well you have this hair between us. How about removing it?"

"Get fucked. That hair is there for a very specific reason."

"We can make things very uncomfortable for you." Right said.

Suddenly the world turned to red as one of the worst pains I've ever felt shot through my body. I looked down, and through the red veil I seemed to be wearing I could see Right twisting himself in all sorts of directions.

I reached over to the little pot on the shelf and grabbed the pair of tweezers. Struggling through the unbelievable agony I gripped Left in them and pinched. The pain was nearly doubled, but only for a second as Right stopped suddenly.

The second he did I released Left.

"I'll get you bastards pierced." I panted.

"Go ahead." Right said, despite Left's sudden gasp. "It won't stop us. Nothing can stop our love. It's too strong, even death won't stop us. Right, Left?"

"Urr...sure." Left hesitantly replied, but I believed Right didn't care. There went my bluff.

After a few moments of silence I turned the light off and went back to bed, pretending to sleep. It took a few minutes, but I finally heard the conversation I was planning on listening in on.

"I told you, you shouldn't have bitten me." Left was saying. "I knew we'd wake him."

"Good." Right said. "I'm glad. I'm not ashamed of you. Are you ashamed of me?"

"No, not at all. Just..."

"You ashamed of what we do?"

"I just feel like I'm always the bitch." Left sounded really down.

"Well that's because you are. Now get over here you."

I forced myself to block out the moans that I heard.

--

Monday I left work early and headed straight into town and went into the first sex shop I came across. It's hard to believe that Whitestone has managed to get multiple sex shops.

I was dreading meeting a stereotype in there. So my prayers were firmly ignored when I first passed a shady looking guy in a brown trench coat on my way to the counter, behind which was stood a guy in a tight pink top and a sailor hat. I didn't dare look below the waist.

"I was wondering if you could help me?" I said, instantly regretting it. What is it about me with clichs?

"Sure I could, Captain." He winked and nodded his sailor hat in my direction.

"I'm after a very specific tool." Again, instantly regretting it, as his eyes widened.

"I think I've got the exact thing you're looking for, right..." He rubbed his hand down his chest, then over his stomach.

"I need something to keep my nipples apart." I said before crotches got involved.

"Apart from what?" His finger went into his mouth, striking a pose that would forever ruin my schoolgirl fantasy.

"Each other."

"That burly chest should take care of that." I swear to god, if this asshole growls or purrs at me again, I will bring his neck with the first thing I can grab I thought. Being surrounded by dildos, I thought better of it, as the evidence in the court case could be awkward.

"It's mostly flab and tit." I said to him, desperate to turn him off. "And like I said, it's very specific. They keep visiting each other, and I need to stop it."

"Naughty." He winked at me.

"I'm straight now fuck off." I decided to yell. "I need something to keep my gay nipples from fucking!"

Instantly his hand was up, palm facing me. "Leave." He said in the gayest voice you can imagine.

"Useless prick." I muttered, as I turned to leave.

--

Basking in my failure I decided to just give up and drive home.

When I got into my car I heard a little voice from inside my shirt.

"Lenny." It hissed.

I unbuttoned my shirt and looked down.

"Who is it? Left or Right?"

"It's Left. Be quiet, because Right's sleeping. You have to help me."

"What? You can..."

"I want out." I was silenced. "I don't want to be with Right anymore. He's an asshole and forces me into stuff I don't actually want to do. I thought it was love, but it wasn't. It was a lack of options. I'm not really gay."

"I don't care if you are gay." I said, forcing across my non-homophobia. "I just don't want my body parts fucking each other."

"What about your hand and..."

"That's different." I quickly cut in. "Just tell Right that you don't want to."

"I can't." Left said. "It would just make living with him impossible. You've got to help me!"

"What can I do?"

"You have to kill him. Over there, look."

I looked up and saw the tattoo and body piercing place.

"You won't need to leave anything in. Just have him pierced. Kill him and than take it out. Please. Free me."

Right woke up part way through, screaming. The guy threading the needle had no idea what was going on, but was persistent, finally forcing it through the rest of the way. The screams turned to a gargle. The gargle turned to silence.

As I was walking back out, I just heard Left say quietly under my shirt, "Thank you..."

For those of you who don't know, my mother married a man who (for lack of a better term) is an ass. Not because of his attitude towards me or constant belief that he is "always right" (yawn). But because he has perhaps the most retarded child on the planet but refuses to admit it.

Casey, 10 years old and has the mentality of a rock.

Case #1:

Casey comes home one day and, as is custom, my mother empties the kids backpack to make sure there aren't any notices, test papers, etc. in it. My mom find a story entitled "The Friendly Giant". Casey looks terrified that my mother found it. When asked why she was upset about it she said that her teacher told her that she was supposed to keep the story a secret and that if she told anyone about it her teacher would cut her eyes out and keep them in a jar.

Nick, the idiot that he is, believes his lamen of a daughter and writes a long, evil letter to the teacher saying that (1) How dare she teach her daughter to keep secrets from her parents and (2) How date she threaten his child.

Now I, having a bit sounder of a mind (says a lot for him, doesn't it?) questioned this.

Me: Nick, are you sure that's what the teacher said.
Nick: What do you mean?
Me: I doubt the teacher threatened her.
Nick: Then why would Casey say that?

What I wanted to say: Because your daughter is a complete moron who can't grasp the concept of left and right.

What I did say: Maybe she misunderstood.

Long story short, Nick sent the letter anyway. The next day the teacher sent a letter back, which read:

Dear Mr. Mandaro,

I am sorry that you are so upset about the story "The Big Friendly Giant". I would like to inform you that I never told your daughter to keep secrets from you and that I would never threaten her. I think Casey is consfused.

And it goes on from there. But here is what REALLY happened.

The story "The Big Friendly Giant" has a surprise ending - something about the Giant not being a real giant, or something like that. So the teacher said to the students (and my brain-dead sister) "Don't tell anyone the ending of the story! It's a surprise!" and then made them do the classic child-promise of:

Cross my heart
Hope to die
Stick a needle in my eye.

So my sisters translation: Teacher evil. Wants to keep secrets. Will cut out my eyes.

Yeah, and this kid doesn't need to be institutionalized. Sure.

Janice's first ever movie!!!

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-4120989381287887226&q=celebrity+game

Oh, hey fellas. Salaam. What's up? I didn't hear you guys come in.

What? No, I wasn't hiding. I was just under my bed there...cleaning. Aren't you guys early? It can't be eleven already, can it? Oh yeah, look at that. It is. Huh. So, today's the day huh? Wow. That really jumped up on us didn't it? Seems like just yesterday that we were planning this whole suicide bombing thing out. But today's the big show. Man.

Ya know, I don't want to be "Johnny Party Pooper" here, but I just saw on the news that it might rain today. Yeah, like a 30 percent chance. Talk about bad luck huh? I mean, what if the fuses get wet? That would be pretty embarrassing. Us just running around in the town square like idiots, not exploding. So I'm thinking maybe we should put this off a few more days till this cold front moves through, just to play it safe. Who's with me? No one? That's cool.

Well, I'll tell ya what. If it's okay by you guys, I'm just going to catch up with you all a little later. I'm not feeling so hot right now. I think I had some bad goat at lunch and I'm about to declare a jihad on my toilet. So I'll probably just meet you boys down at the Bazaar.

No? You want me to come right now. Right.

Okay, you know what guys? Can I say something here? I'm just going to throw this out there and see if it sticks. I know that we're all pretty excited about the whole suicide bombing thing, but the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that it might be a little over the top. Ya know? Is anyone else feelin' me on this? No one?

I'll explain. First off, let me start by saying that I hate the Americans. Hate them. I think you all know that. I've proven that time and time again. Whose idea was it to put the George Bush picture on the dart board at underground headquarters? That would be this guy right here. Remember? Americans are jerks. And I don't want their revolting Western influence contaminating our land and people any more than you guys do. I hate oppression. Ask anyone. Emad, tell them.

But I refuse to believe that there's not a way for us to get that point across that doesn't involve us detonating ourselves as human bombs.

Hey, how about this? What about a good old fashioned egging? You know, like back in our high school days. We'll sneak over to the U.S. Base late at night and just egg the heck out of everything. It'll be a gas! Then we could go back in the morning and watch them trying to get all that egg off their Hummers and barracks and stuff. They'll probably be like, "Grrr...If we ever catch who did this...." And we can all be like, "Hey Americans, we see that you're making us breakfast!" Or something funny like that. Oh man, I'll bet that would burn them up! Who's with me? Nobody?

You guys want to kill them. Right. You're pretty hung up on that. Okay, well then let me bounce this off of you. I know that this is going to sound weird, but what if we killed them... without killing ourselves?

Bear with me on this one guys. There have been tremendous strides in weaponry over the past two hundred years that I really think we should embrace. Have you ever heard of hand grenades? They are kick-ass. They blow up, just like we do when we suicide bomb, but with grenades we don't have to blow up too. You just toss it near the person-slash-people that you want to die, while you remain at a safe distance! Booya! It just makes sense. No?

Well why the hell not? Oh right. The ultimate sacrifice. Paradise and 72 virgins will await each of us. Well, I'm not much of a reader so I can't claim to have seen that particular Koran passage, but I do have kind of a hard time believing that Allah, who is supposedly all about peace and tolerance, would be gung-ho about us killing people in droves. But once again, I've only skimmed it.

And really, how entertaining would 72 virgins be anyways? They didn't get to Paradise for being any fun. Sounds like a lot of work to me. Am I right?

Okay! Fine! I'll go with you guys. But I'm going on record as saying that this is a pretty stupid plan. And I want you all to know that I just got a year's subscription to Maxim that I guess is just going to go to waste now. So I hope you're all happy about that. Jerks.

Why do I even make plans? I never end up sticking to the schedule I lay out for myself.

Wednesday night turned out not only to be Kimmy's biday - but my grandmothers. So, what did Janice do? She let both events slip her mind and went out with Gabe instead. We did ice-cream, movies, etc. Came home to a few voicemails (I had forgotten my phone) from both family and friends wondering where the hell I was. I have yet to return any phonecalls.

Monday the 23rd starts Janice's school career. Principles of Accounting. Woohoo. It just dawned on me that I am going to be having very LONG days. I have to be at Ashley's at 6am until 9am. My first class every day is 9:30. Classes run until 3:15. Then I have to meet Ashley at 3:30 until 6:30. Then I am under contract with a management company to handle their books every night from 7pm to 9pm (with the exception of Monday's since I have night class and Thursdays since I need to get laid at least once a week).

Fridays, of course, all I have is Ashley - no classes or work. Woohoo! Only problem is we are setting up our poker games for Friday nights. Best time for it, really. We'll be starting up in February - anyone interested? We do Texas Holdem and Black Jack. Only a $20 buy in and a bag of chips/6 pack of beer to play. Let me know - we meet at my apartment in West Islip.

This weekend, however, is looking as busy as ever. Friday night I am heading out with Lenny, Christine, Jimmy and Gabe for some much needed pool time. Saturday afternoon I am doing brunch with Kimmy to apologize for completely forgetting about her. Saturday night heading over to Joe's for poker (think I'm an addict?) Sunday is spend time with Grandma day. God forbid I get a "spend a day ALONE day". Would be nice. I could use the quiet time.

Anyone else fed-up with way to busy schedules?

Since Janice is perhaps the most indecisive person on this planet, I have once again changed my haircolor.

Gone is the black.

Long live red-heads.

I know - you all saw this coming.

Stolen from Jason...

Google "Unfortunately yourname" (with the quotes and replace yourname with your name) and look for some amusing results. Here's some that I got:


- Unfortunately Janice and Dwayne did not blend quite as well as the massed forces behind them

- Unfortunately, Janice feels she’s more qualified to give out beauty, weight, self-esteem and every other conceivable type of advice to the readers than she is to tell catty stories because the advice sections far outweigh the other, much more readable, parts.

- Unfortunately, Janice's imaginative economy with the truth is rivaled by some
very underhanded maneuverings by office heartthrob, Sean.

- Unfortunately, Janice secretly injected herself with the experimental, much more concentrated extract in order to hasten the process, and poor Zinthrop gets run over by a car before he can warn her of its rather disturbing side effects.

God I need to find something to do with my Tuesday mornings....

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am seated here with the newly elected mayor of McDonaldland, Frank McCheese. In the upcoming few minutes I hope to enlighten you to his humble background and ascendance to greatness.

Janice: Firstly, thank you for your time, your honor, and might I add that that's a pretty cool sash that you're wearing.

McCheese: Thanks, Janice. Glad to be here.

Janice: Let's start from the beginning. What motivated you to run for mayor?

McCheese: Well, I just got tired of The King's bullshit. Plus, he creeped me the fuck out. Seriously, I don't know how many people told me that they would wake up in the morning, and he would be in their bed, or peeping in their windows. That's just fucked up. You don't do that kind of shit.

Janice: So, you took a disliking to the way that The King interacted with his constituents?

McCheese: Yes. Definitely. Plus, his record on crime is atrocious! He cut Sherrif Big Mac's operating budget in half! For Christsakes, he has been in office for eight years and The Duke of Doubt and The Hamburglar are still walking our streets!

Janice: Yes, his record on crime is pretty, well, lacking. Where do suppose that he went wrong?

McCheese: He got caught up in the bright lights that come with the office. I have no idea what the hell possessed him to get into pro football. I mean, he goes from stalking people in the park with a breakfast sandwich one day, next thing you know, he's taking a shovel pass from Daunte Culpepper for a touchdown. He also was hanging around with a shady crowd. C'mon, Sir-Shakes-a-Lot?

Janice: You just made a motion of sticking needles into your arm. Are you insinuating something?

McCheese: He was riding the horse, if you know what I mean, Janice. He wasn't jonesing for a frozen gelatinated dairy-based drink. He was fiending for some smack.

Janice: That's a pretty serious accusation, Mayor. Can you back up those statements with some evidence?

McCheese: Well, it was his idea to get Hootie to star in all of those commercials. You remember them, don't you? The undertones were all there. Shit, if you play the song in the commercial backwards, he is clearly saying "Captain Jack will get you high tonight."

Janice: Geez....What else?

McCheese: There was that scandal where he was accused of giving away Happy Meals to the Kids Club members in exchange for sex! The guy was a freak.

Janice: I remember that.

McCheese: Then there was the time that he showed up to the council meeting all liquored up. Grimace just asked an innocent question, and The King just sucker punches him. Now, Grimace isn't exactly the model of grace, but he meant no harm by asking The King why he smelled like windshield washer fluid. The King just outright cold-cocked him.

Janice: Whatever happened with that case?

McCheese: The judge dismissed it on a technicality. It turned out that The Wizard of Fries was on the jury and was an illegal alien.

Janice: So The King walked?

McCheese: Yeah. But I heard that Grimace still might file a civil suit. I hope he sues the plastic balls off of him.

Janice: Is there anything that you would like to close our interview with?

McCheese: Yes, Janice. I would like to state that the Fry-Guys and the McNugget Buddies have lived under The King's Iron Bun of tyranny long enough! I'm going to make their world a better place.

Janice: Thanks, Mayor. Good luck with everything.

McCheese: No, thank YOU, and thanks to all my supporters.