Ok, you guys.

I’m trying something new. Are you ready?

Get excited…here it goes. It’s literally going to knock your socks off. Can you feel my excitement? I mean this is frickin’ fantabulous.

Ready, set….GO!


Did you feel that?


A god damn page break. I swear, the earth just moved. My body quivered. I had no idea a return bar could do this to me. I’m in love. My toes just curled. I can’t even take what just happened over here. It was a PAGE BREAK! I guess, in the blogging world, it’s like the end-all-be-all. Who knew? I have only my Super-Girl from the D, Jenn F to thank. She happens to be the Blogger Extraordinaire! Thanks my friend, for sharing this little golden nugget of knowledge with me. She is is Goddess. And the Queen of all things Pinterest. My life has been forever changed. I have now entered the REAL WORLD of Blogging. I am officially a Blogger. All because of a page break. Hmmm. I have risen. I have…rosen! Um, I have ARRIVED! Wouldn’t it be really funny if the page break didn’t actually work? Umm, ya. Cause really, I can’t actually see it here. I only see a jagged line. How dumb would that be? Well, just have to wait and find out! I love a good cliffhanger. Drama!

It’s like what will happen next, ooohhhhh….will the page actually say (more) at the bottom, or not? If it doesn’t, I will be pissed. But I won’t be able to do a thing about it. I’ll just chalk it up to my lack of computer knowledge. And feel like a dork. And a complete loser.

I am a total loser. But hey, I can use a fancy button to make a cool break in a page, so piss off. And I can make fun of myself. Which is a really good quality to have, peeps. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.. that’s what I think. And I think these days, a good sense of humor is truly the best thing a girl has going for her. Because let me tell you, I would be ripping my hair out if I didn’t laugh at some of the shit that’s been going on lately. “She who laughs last, laughs loudest.” Is that the right saying? Or is it, “She who laughs the loudest, laughs last?” Who cares. I just keep laughing. Gotta laugh. This morning the guy at the car dealership place told me I needed new brake pads, and rotor-thingys.  I just got my truck! He’s like, “Yup, Ma’am. $800.00.” I’m like, you are out of your effin’ mind. Then I asked him if it was dangerous, ya know…to drive if I don’t get the new stuff. Was I was going to like, die? And he said, “Well, I can’t be held responsible if you do die.” No shit, buddy! But am I going to crash, or can I save the $800 bucks?! UGHHHH!!! I’m ready to scream. But no, no. Just gotta laugh.

Or call Mark. And yell at him. Somehow, this is his fault. Everything is his fault. It just is. Somehow.
He is breathing after all. I figure if Mark breathes then he is to blame. Just breathing is a no-no. Bad, Mark. No breathing allowed.

I am funny today. And I’m also stealing other peoples jokes. Too bad, if you want to use them guys…write your own blogs. Ha. And guess what else is new and exciting around here? I am going to start advertising! Cool, right? I’m trying to figure out how to do it! I’m gonna make some money! Wow. Won’t that be nice. I can actually start pulling my own weight in the world. Not that being a mom isn’t a full-time job, but maybe now…my boys will start respecting me a little bit more. After my studio fell through last fall, and my life went to shit…it was touch-and-go on the “respect-thing”. Ya. My guys actually said it to me out loud. Jonah looked at me straight in the face, and said, “Mom, you have to open J&Z. We were just starting to respect you.” Ugh. Why don’t you pull the knife out of my chest, and then stab me with it again a few more times, honey. Really. I can take it. I tried to laugh. “Tried”, being the operative word.

Well, now…maybe I can make the guys proud again. Even though they can’t read this smutty blog, they can reap the benefits. lol. Duh, they know about it. But double-duh, I don’t let them read it. It’s R-rated. And what kind of Mom would allow her kids to read this crap? Jeez. Have you read this shit? It’s smut! But, alas…I gotta bring home the bacon. Let’s fry up some pork! And making money here has got to mean something, right? It’s better than stripping. Or selling my blood. Or my eggs. Wait. That’s not a bad idea. I think my eggs have got to be worth something these days. Shit. Too old? Ya. Rotten eggs aren’t worth crap. They are filled with autistic-ADHD-fluff, anyhoo. So, it’s best to just stick to blogging for a living. My knees are hurting, my back is busted up….and I’m too tired to deal with the 13 year-old meshugi-Jews. My uterus will most likely fall out if I attempt “The Wobble” one more time. Oy. I’m much more likely to earn a living sitting here, on my couch…pouring out my inner most feelings to the world. Sad, but true. I guess misery loves company. Or all y’all are just really bored.

Now, who wants to pay me to do it? Ante up, you guys. Momma needs a new pair of shoes. And I’m not talkin’ Steve Maddens. Louboutins, darhlin’s. I am craving a little red bottom love. ;)

xo j

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