Grammy Thoughts

Thank you for reminding us about what prevented your attendance at Grammys 2009. I like your neck brace, girrrrrl.

Taylor Swift, you sounded like shit.

SON OF HEAVEN

Brandon has this T-shirt. He also has a MATCHING SATCHEL. Both items were purchased for him when he was about 10 years old. It should come as no surprise that I cannot take him anywhere near seriously when he's wearing this mess. I tried to get rid of it and he threw a huge fit and almost cried while explaining its sentimental value. Whatever. As long as he's not trying to make sexual advances with it on, I'll let it fly. Yay dragons. They're real, you know.

It's just hair, okay. Or not hair.

I'm growing my hair out for my August wedding. It's gonna be all hippie-chic and probably have flowers in it Jenny-style, but you're never gonna know how long it is unless you come to the rehearsal dinner. Because it has to be up. It's a crazy pain in the ass already, and though I like being able to style it and let it be free (meaning I wash it every 2-3 days), I've decided that once I'm married I'M GONNA MAKE A CHANGE. Now I don't know what that means entirely. I was thinking something like dying it red or getting some crazy layers or something. Brandon has a better idea. He wants me to cut it all off. Like all of it. Like a boy. I am flattered he thinks I can pull this off and that this will be an attractive look for me, but I would love to know what anyone else thinks. The sheer idea is terrifying and I would fear for the stylist and her children should this whole business go terribly awry. I'm pretty impulsive, so I bet I'll end up doing it. So talk me out of it for Christ's sake.

This is what I attempted to do this morning.

I am motivated!!!!!! I think.

As many of you probably know, I spent all of November and December performing in HersheyPark's Christmas Show in Hershey, Pennsylvania. More on that later, I promise. 

I returned to my cozy, yet horribly insulated St. Louis apartment on New Years Day and promptly spent a number of weeks vegging out watching Teen Mom and baking things no one needs sitting around in their house. No job, no worries, no problems. Except for Amber and Leah. They shouldn't be living in a motel, and Gary should not be pulling out all the stops to bring her fucking meatloaf from Cracker Barrel to try to win her back. Can I keep the candle? SEE?! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!?! I need to get back into the world. I have auditions coming up, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll be cast in a summer season here in the Lou. To prepare, I've been singing (read: annoying the shit out of my neighbors) daily, as well as attempting to stay in shape despite all previously mentioned baked goods. 

With all my spare time that I don't spend watching Teen Mom, Property Virgins, or Taboo on demand, I have been planning a wedding. 7 months from yesterday, I'll be a married woman. It's pretty exciting. Also terrifying. I have dreams all the time that it's the day of my wedding and everything is ready and no one shows up. Or that the food isn't cooked and it's being served and no one notices. Or that our officiant decides to whip out a bible. AGHHHH! NO! The fun part starts next week, when we meet with our florist, baker, chef, wedding planner, and officiant all in one day. Brandon has already expressed his apathy toward planning, citing his main desire for the big day as "Jessi being happy with everything." He's mine and you can't have him. So yeah, wedding. In the works. Don't be pissed if you're not invited. 90 person guest list, big families. Don't cry.

Even more exciting than a wedding, I'm being screened for this new Microbiome Study that's being conducted by the two major medical schools in St. Louis. I had to pass this super extensive medical screening phone interview, and in two weeks I have to have a dental, blood, and physical exam to finish the screening process. If I pass, all I have to do is come in two times in the next year to poop in a box, have blood drawn, and let them evaluate me. No drugs, no variables, nothing scary whatsoever. I get paid $650 for this. And the satisfaction of knowing I'm healthy enough for their Nazi screening. And they get all my bacteria. I like trading. Brandon's doing it, too. We're GON BE RICH! Yeah, I need a job. So I guess I'll get one.

As I wave farewell to embraced unemployment, I say goodbye to many things. In case you've never been unemployed, I've compiled a list of what it's really all about:

-Farmville. Like, a lot of Farmville.

-knowing exactly what time your mail comes

-looking like a very young soccer mom when you go meet your PhD student fiance for lunch and bring plastic utinsels with you so you won't have to get up

-MTV and TLC, though TLC gets more points for having quality programming accessible through on demand

-petting your cats, and taking pictures of them that you probably shouldn't show people

-baths (not to bathe, but because it's winter and it's cold)

-walking around the mall FOR EXERCISE

-plenty of time to bust out the old lingerie

-shopping for things you don't need and then abandoning your virtual cart once you realize you're wasting time

-wasting time

-playing on your pole in the middle of your living room but whining to yourself because its not warm and sticky like the ones in class.. boo hoo

-reading Newsweek to assure yourself you're still intelligent

-reading Ladies Home Journal because your mom sent you a free subscription

-eating chips