Dear Mom
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as dear mom, flaming bag of poop
Dear Mom,
I don’t know if it’s because I recently turned 40 or if it’s maturity or the time that healed our wounds and rekindled the love between you and I, so sorrowfully damaged by teenage angst and Mother-Daughter sparring.
Perhaps it has more to do with the fact that I now have 3 teenage daughters of my own.
Whatever ever it is, I can finally reflect objectively and take some responsibility for all that I once blamed you for.
Looking back, maybe sunbathing topless in the backyard just because I knew your bible study group was on their way over was not nearly as edgy as it was obnoxious.
Perhaps declaring myself a satanist at youth group was less a stand on my freedom to chose as it was my attempt to embarrass and punish you for making me go to church.
I’ll admit that day, when I was 13 years old, when I stole your cigarettes I swore up and down that it was only because I was worried that you would get cancer and I was merely trying to save our life, was less an act of humanity as it was a blatant act of theft.
I’ll also come right out and acknowledge that it was me who ate the cat food (not “the other Jennifer”), pooped on the nasty neighbor’s welcome mat and told my grade two teacher that I wasn’t really your child; that you had abducted me from an orange Julius and I desperately needed help getting back to my real family.
“Seriously! You have to call the police! My life is in danger!”
I get that it was selfish of me to threaten to follow you when you threatened to run away from home.
I get that maybe you weren’t actually as interested in “CONTROLLING MY LIFE!!” or “DICTATING MY EVERY THOUGHT AND MOVEMENT!!!”
as you were in perhaps napping or even just having one single moment of peace.
But seriously? Was cursing me entirely necessary?
I was only 5 years old when you said the words…
“I hope to god Jennifer, that when you grow up you have a daughter EXACTLY like you”
Mom. Honestly. The bag of flaming poop on your doorstep right now? Not me. Possibly “The Other Jennifer” but definitely not me.
From here to nowhere in 3 days…
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as Mexican Mafia, Nancy Botwin, Nathalie Newman, Randy Newman, Weeds
Not that I think my life is a T.V. show or anything but…
After 2 24 hour days straight of packing the hell out of my house because I can’t deal with the on going harassment of my landlords a minute longer, I shower, make some tea and curl up on the couch to finally watch Monday night’s episode of Weeds.
During this week’s show, Mama packs up her kids because the middle child had brutally murdered (or clubbed to death with a croquet mallet) a crazy Mexican mafia crime boss lady.
What? Jen! That’s nuts! That’s like totally what Thing Two did like… last week!
I know right?
Basically, the whole family, much like my own, had to give up their entire lives, friends, identities etc… to start afresh and begin their new lives, secretly running from Mama’s crazed baby-daddy and his entire mob of muscle (and guns) and, of course, the FBI.
All of this is so eerily similar to us moving all of our stuff into storage and then staying with friends and family or whoever will have us (any takers?) for the next week or two while renovations on the new place are finished OR the co-op of our dreams calls with a deal we can’t refuse. With the exception of the Botwins Newmans not having a dog, a cat and a siamese fighting fish in tow of course but then we also don’t have the totally irresponsible and a bit too skinny yet strangely sexy uncle Andy Crap… I can’t remember his new name. Rog.. Randy? Randy. Of course, Randy Newman.
So after we watch the riveting 20 minutes of crime, chaos and all around family melt down, I send the kids to bed. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Thing Three completely turns on me and starts giving me what-for.
Apparently she has had enough of all this destabilizing moving nonsense and finds it unfair that while she has friends who are still living in the homes their ancestors were born and raised in, I have uprooted her one too many times and this is the last straw!
“Yesterday my teacher asked me to fill out my medical form and when I asked him what to put for an address, since I’m homeless AGAIN, he thought I was joking and laughed at me!!!”
She ranted about living out of backpacks and something else about where her fish was going to live and perhaps a word or two about social services or youth protection.
I gently pointed out that we aren’t technically homeless and that escaping high rent and hateful landlords isn’t exactly the same as running from murder charges and drug lords but still…
“And my back hurts!!”
I rubbed her back and reminded her that for the last 6 months she has been begging me to move so she could be closer to her friends and the skate park.
“You’re pretty irresponsible to have gotten us into this mess!”
And because we aren’t allowed to scream and cry, “Oh yeah? Well do you have any idea how hard this is for ME?” much less throw our kids out the window, I put on my best mommy voice and consoled her. I validated her feelings and talked her down for at least a minute before starting to feel attacked.
“Sweetie, I know this all feels a bit destabilizing and I understand that it’s hard for you. I need you to remember that it’s temporary and I’m your mom and I am doing what is best for our family and I am trying to do it in a way that is as quick and painless as possible”
“Well you’re obviously not trying hard enough!!”
“OK, good night.”
Because I’m exhausted and drained have lost perspective entirely, but mostly because I’m immature, I look to Thing Two for validation.
Thing Two: “She’s totally being dramatic. It’s not a big deal. It’s not even that stressful”
Me: “It is stressful honey but it’s not like we’re moving into a refrigerator box”
Thing Two: “Well it’s only stressful because of all the things we have to do to help”
Me: “We? I have packed every single box and bag myself without an ounce of help. What have I made you and your sister do exactly?”
Thing Two:”Well, nothing…”
She dangles her head and right arm off the couch and without taking an eye off the television for even a millisecond.
“But just the idea that you might at some time possibly ask us to do something to help is pretty stressful mom.”
I went in my room and had a little meltdown of my own. For a moment I wished we really were on the run, because I wouldn’t have to pack any of this crap, I could just leave it all behind and go, with my kids, the dog, the cat, the fish, a few pairs of my favorite shoes and… Oh yeah, another thing Nancy Botwin Nathalie Newman are has that I don’t… a vehicle.
But, discounting the fact that she has a van, and a slightly more defined jaw line, Nancy Botwin Nathalie Newman and I are basically the same person.
Control versus Chinese Food
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as Jennifer June, parental control, single parenting, watching the children sleep
The pros to being a single parent include an entire category labeled CONTROL.
I’m not ashamed to admit it. Having control makes parenting so much easier.
I don’t mean actual control over your children or their behaviour, I’m not that delusional.
I mean control of parenting them.
Also, there is a certain truth about the saying if you want something done right, do it yourself.
My daughter cut her hand when she was 4 years old. It wasn’t serious so I sent my husband to the hospital
with her, to get her tetanus shot.
5 hours later they returned.
“How was the needle sweetie? Were you brave?”
“There was no needle, they didn’t give her one.”
“WHAT? WHY?”
“They said we don’t have rabies in Montreal.”
“Rab… please be joking”
“What?”
You have control over what they eat…
“because… hot dogs aren’t protein and she’s a vegetarian!”
And, if ever (heaven forbid) you break up…
“That is a lovely necklace sweetie. So who exactly is Elizabeth and why did daddy bring you to her house for a sleepover last night?”
At the same time…
Who else will stand in their bedroom doorway with you just to watch them sleep?
Who else will refer to the dog as one of the kids?
“Go get your sister’s leash and take her out back to poop”
Who else will endure the inevitable boredom of the School Christmas concert, snickering and making mean jokes with you about other parents and their children yet share a tear while your own child stands there disheveled and awkward, crooked bangs and missing teeth, singing Angels We Have Heard On High (horrifically off key) for the 4th year in a row?
Who else will force the kids to pick flowers, make you waffles and glue macaroni picture frames for mother’s day?
Don’t get me wrong, I get that I might be idealizing a little. I was on a team for years and it wasn’t all roses and rainbows. A few birthdays were overlooked, a few differences of opinion were had…
“yes… yes that is cheating.”
or
“Um.. actually, I said NO to getting a dog”
and…
“Yes it is, even over the internet, it most certainly is cheating.”
and even…
“I don’t know, maybe because it cost almost $30,000.00 and I feel like that’s something we could have discussed BEFORE you bought it”
It’s just kind of nice to know that,
when your kids are huffing and puffing, stripping you of your dignity and deflating your parental ego, there is somebody else on your team.
“Wanna go make-out hide under the bed and see how long it takes them to find us?”
Or that when you come home after being on the road for days, somebody will have put the kids up for adoption to bed, rented a movie and ordered Chinese…
You’re sick!
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as am I sick, prom queen, teen movies, under the weather
Feeling tired and achy? Wondering if you’re fighting something? Coming down with something? Sick?
Can’t find your thermometer? Let me help.
Did you drink about a gallon of tea today and wish you could crawl right inside it?
Yes.
Did lifting your tea cup to your mouth exhaust you to the point of napping between sips to recover your energy?
Yes.
Were you torn between wearing a snow suit and wrapping yourself in animal skins and sprawling nude on cold tile floors with all the doors and windows open and the AC on full?
Yes.
Did you get seduced by the movie your teenage daughter was watching and curl up in a ball on the couch and watch it with
her?
Yes.
Did you feel invested when the lead was grounded with no internet access, no cell phone and no way to get to the biggest party of the year, hosted by the hottest guy at school, who was going to ask her out that very same night??
Yes!
Did you feel a little pang when after 30 minutes of conflict, including escape from house-arrest, car towage and an allergic reaction, a love triangle, a seance and father-daughter bonding, the cutest boy at school crowned the sweet girl that nobody cares about, prom queen?
Euh.. maybe..?
Did you shed a little bit of a tear, when they kissed, without knowing why and then realize it was because you felt like a lonely 17 year old girl who wished that you were being crowned prom queen by a gorgeous football player that you have been pining away for since 8th grade?
OK! YES! YES I DID!!
Yep. you’re sick.
Make yourself a *Hot Rum (or 5), crawl into bed and stay there until you have watched at least 2 seasons of your favorite shows.
* If you don’t drink alcohol I commend you. You can still enjoy this tasty healing brew, just omit the Rum.
Ingredients:
- 2/3 cups boiling water
- 1 measure white or amber rum
- 1 tbs. sugar or honey
-1 tsp grated ginger
-1 tbs of orange or lemon juice
- A big strip of orange and/or lemon zest
1. Place the sugar/honey, grated ginger and orange/lemon zest into a mug.
2. pour in the rum, then the boiling water and serve immediately.
Majestic indeed…
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as armed like an Orca, dorsal fin, Hung like a horse, killer whale, surprise photo
You know when you’re out taking photos of stuff and you just kind of click away, aiming in the general direction of the point of interest,hoping that some part of the photo is in focus?
You know how when you get home days or weeks later you go through your photos to see if any of them turned out and sometimes even discover things you didn’t even realize you had photographed?
It’s fun huh? It’s like the picture just jumps right out at you and yells SURPRISE!!
Yeah well, my father-in-law, Ric, swears that’s what happened here:
The killer whale (Orcinus orca), commonly referred to as the orca, and less commonly as the blackfish, is a toothed whale belonging to the oceanic dolphin family.
Individual Orcas can often be identified from the dorsal fin and saddle patch.
Males typically range from 6 to 8 metres (20–26 ft) long and weigh in excess of 6 tonnes
Surprise!
I said… SURPRISE!!
All photos by Ric Segura Cuzner
Vagina Camp.
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as Google, vagina camp
That’s right, you heard me, I said Vagina Camp.
The thing is… I have written many posts already, with a plethora of keywords to chose from and for some reason, the majority of googlers who land on The Lady’s Lounge are searching for… how can I say this without getting even higher google rankings for it?
L A B I A L O U N G E
Naturally, I googled those very words myself to try and see what exactly it is that countless people are searching for each and every day.
1) An erotic photo blog of … um… the word in that phrase that isn’t lounge.
2) A crap load of porn
3) A Playa del Fuego theme camp devoted to the exploration and celebration of feminine sexuality.
Yes, that’s right, Vagina Camp.
“They have various fun and sexy events, some co-ed, some women only.”
Um, Co-Ed? Really? Because I’m super curious to know what one does at a Labia workshop without… you know, a LABIA.
Great, I probably just flew up to # 3 on google now.
Dear Porn lovers,
Really? L A BI A L O UN G E? That’s what you are thinking about when you’re all hot and bothered and looking for love in all the wrong places? Labia? Just the Labia? Specifically? Nothing else? Just the Labia and maybe a little lounge action?
(I’m up to #2 now for sure)
Dear Vagina Campers,
I a truly sorry for misleading you with whatever key words the search engines of the mighty interweb weeded out of my blog posts and exploited to lure you here. For all of you Labia-less workshopers, perhaps I could interest you in a fascinating piece I wrote regarding Iceland’s famous Penis Museum?
Love Jen xox
Bad Boyfriend!
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as baby did a bad thing, my boyfriend cheated
We had just had the most amazing sex ever. I could still taste it.
We went for a boardwalk stroll, holding hands and gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes.
We walked right up to this girl who was waiting with wide eyed anticipation as we approached her.
My boyfriend turned to me and said…
“Jen, this is my new girlfriend s-and-so”
They were so excited and freshly full of love. Neither of them seemed to grasp how entirely surreal it was.
I fought the nausea that clawed at my guts but had a hard time fighting back the tears.
“What’s wrong baby?” François inquired tenderly.
I don’t even remember if I pronounced any real words as my mouth hung gaping in disbelief.
I motioned for the bus and he insisted on walking me to it. His new girlfriend who, by the way, was very bland looking all mousy haired in her beige shorts and tan T-Shirt, waved and exclaimed how great it was to have met me.
I started crying and sort of half tried to negotiate with him but Franky was evidently delirious and only made matters worse by suggesting that he was only actually planning to date this girl for exactly 4 days.
He gave me a big kiss.
“See you next week!” He gushed.
I got on the bus and cried some more.
When I woke up I still felt a bit sad so I sent François an email telling him what a bad boyfriend he had been in my dream.
He called and told me that he wouldn’t even consider it because…
“4 days is too short, you need a good 5 days to get really sick of somebody”
Stray cats…
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as my readers are perverts, my tracker
I was casually stalking you guys on my tracker tonight when I came to the realization that my readers are a bunch of perverts who aren’t actually looking for a good read as much as a good old fashioned jpeg of boobs, bestiality and alley cats humping! You sick little monkeys!!!!
Facebook is for networking…
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as facebook adults, Facebook networking
For children, facebook is a social outlet that aids and enables their obsessive and co-dependent chatter between BFFs and Biffles
as well as a vessel for stalking one’s boyfriend/girlfriend/ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend’s best friend’s lover but, as is illustrated below; for adults, grown-ups, mature and evolved colleagues and acquaintances, facebook is for networking.
Daniel doo doo diaper head
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Jennifer-June Chapman Great! Now everybody knows you have a crush on me. Why don’t you dip my braids in the ink well while you’re at it doofus.· · -
Daniel Hey, Captain Kirk talks about that in “The Squire of Gothos”…· ·
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Jennifer-June Chapman About you having a raging boner for me?· ·
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Daniel more like some chubs. you hurt my feelings.· ·
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Jennifer-June Chapman Ok fine, I want your ducky-ride OK?· ·
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Daniel knew it· ·
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Marc actually, daniel and i were just flirting in the pharmaprix. but we couldn’t agree on positions, it’s all over now.· · -
Daniel why are all you people such a bunch of homos! you need more meat in your diet. http://twitter.com/tweetthatmeat· ·
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Jennifer-June Chapman That hurts Marc, you haven’t flirted with me in Pharmaprix for years.
Daniel, Wieners are not meat.· · -
Daniel Your mother’s a wiener.· ·
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Marc jen, you and i aren’t “coincidentally” bumping into each other every 2 days.· ·
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Daniel ”Coincidence” i.e. mark is a homo. Also he lives two doors down from me.· ·
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Jennifer-June Chapman ”bumping” i.e. Daniel is also a homo and moved in two doors down from Marc to insure adequate coincidental “bumping”.· ·
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Marc homo-ereKtus? does that make you feel threatened?
we should all talk it over a meal of veggie wieners sometime. daniel, you got a hibachi or something?· · -
Other Jenn LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL!· · -
Daniel Veggie wieners = gay penises. I’m moving to uganda to be safe from all them queers.· ·
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Jennifer-June Chapman You’re both wieners, let’s hang out. Name the time and place, I’ll bring the veggie-gin-and-tonic and a bad attitude.· ·
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Daniel Oops – I meant “penii” the correct plural of “penis”. My parents are out of town till wednesday – we need to go have a house party like in those 80s movies, or that tim and eric episode.· ·
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Jennifer-June Chapman So basically that means tomorrow night?· ·
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Daniel HOUSE PARTEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I have to mow the lawn though and water the plants.· ·
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Marc i kinda made plans for tomorrow, but man, daniel you could have awesome yard/alleyway parties at your place! it’s even all camo-ed over by giant weeds. it would solve my scheduling conflict…· ·
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Daniel I don’t want anyone coming inside and touching my action figures…· ·
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Jennifer-June Chapman Aww Yeaah, party at Daniel’s pad. Menudo-figurine-kabobs for everyone! · ·
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Morning Coffee
in The awesomeness that is the inner workings of my somewhat disturbed and unarguably juvenile mind.
as bisous de Montréal, Glenn
Salut Glenn.
Plein de bisous de Montréal xx
