Beam me up...

Scientology. Where you check your soul and homoeroticism at the door.

Top 10 random quotes from the time I turned 30

1. They ran out of cake, so I got you cakeballs. 2. Don't do what I did when I turned 30. Note: this meant get pregnant. 3. You look like Shirley Temple, and not a day over 21. 4. Since there aren't any straight black men here, I'll just fill in for now. Note: said by a gay black man. 5. Judging by your ass you're only 25. 6. I hope you're wearing a dress to your party and not pants. Note: said by a 90 year old woman who likes to call herself my grandmother. 7. My wish for you is to find a husband. 8. We got you something we knew you'd appreciate. Money. 9. This fried ice cream tastes too fried. Note: who says that? 10. If you ever want to have kids, now would be the time.

St. Peter's Hands

If you're like me and grew up going to private school, I'm sure you can remember daily mass and the misery that came with it. For the other young girls and myself, it was the perfect place to get our giggle on. Maybe because making any kind of noise was so forbidden, the moment someone did all hell broke loose. And if someone farted; we were goners. Looking back, everyone seemed to have their own special way of trying to hide their laughter from the nuns. The ones who laughed nasally and honked like geese would try to cover it up by sneezing louder than they were laughing. Ones who had chortles building in the back of their throats began coughing. And then there was me...beet faced and shoulders shaking uncontrollably. A silent laugh, yes, but still dangerous because the moment I had to take a breath I would usually make some kind of inhuman sound that resulted in being separated from the class and forced to sit next to the teacher. "Shh. Saint Peter is watching you," Sister Rosemary would say. God those women were boring. But they made an impression that would last a lifetime. Recently I went to church with two of my girlfriends. We sat in the middle. We were hungover. We looked like we had been run over by a semi truck. Midway through the mass, one of us said something that likely caused the most ridiculous display of immaturity ever to have graced Our Lady of Mount Carmel. I looked over at my friend Moni and she was wearing her sunglasses. Her shoulders were shaking, which could only indicate one thing. And then I felt it. The laughter creeping up from within me. I looked down at my lap and hoped for the best. Too late. Our friend Katie had seen and by then, three grown women managed to have a full on laughing attack for no good reason whatsoever. There we were, the rejects of Catholic school, fighting back tears and completely mortified, but somehow unable to stop. That was of course until Katie looked up at one of the stain glassed windows and said "Saint Peter is giving us the hand." The three of us turned to the window and sure as shit, Saint Peter's hand was outstretched in a way that said "you have got to be kidding me." With that, we filed out.

Have I mentioned I'm trying to launch a career as a writer? How can I do that when I can't even blog every week? GOD. Wait, it's been nearly a month. EVEN BETTER.

Happy Easter

Fat girl problems

Okay, I'm not fat. But right now, the cravings I'm having are those of morbidly obese woman. You see, I gave up sweets for Lent. And I have a huge sweet tooth. I can sit and eat pounds and pounds of chocolate and unless someone takes it away from me, I will probably continue eating it until I pass out. So for the last 30 days, I haven't had one bite of chocolate, cake, candy, cookie, etc. And in 30 minutes, it's Easter. I mean, it's not like the clock is going to strike midnight and I'm going to run into the kitchen, ready to do some major work on the cheesecake my mom and I made. OR AM I??? No. I've made it this far (please don't ask why I even gave up anything for Lent, I honestly have no reason other than I felt the need to) and I'll make it until morning. But once that dessert tray hits the table, everyone needs to get the FUCK out of my way.

The Gatekeeper

In dealing with the incessant hassle of having to answer my company's sales calls (God I'm glad I went to college), I've recently developed a new identity to help me through them. Her name is Becky Kates. She's a post op tranny. Picture Will Ferrell's voice immodulation skit and you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Just a taste of one of my conversations: Me, in my regular voice: Thanks for calling (company name), this is Joanna Cold caller: Hi there, I was hoping to speak with the person in charge of handling your shipping supplies Me, as Becky: This is Becky CC: Yes, hello, are you the person in that handles the shipping supplies? Becky: Depends on who's asking honey CC: Oh. Yes. This is Jennifer B: Well isn't THAT a lovely name CC: Thank you. I was hoping... B: You know I almost chose Jennifer as MY name CC: I'm sorry? B: Not important CC: How much volume would you say you had coming out of there? B: My hair has TONS of volume CC: No, I meant in terms of shipments. Would you say you do mostly UPS? B: So you mean to tell me you're NOT calling to sell me hair products? Case in point: if you ever want to get rid of someone on the phone, or make someone uncomfortable in person for that matter, try lowering your voice a few octaves, draw out your vowels and you've got yourself a winner.