This means WAR

Yes folks... I made the above poster with my awesome art skillz. I am fully committed to the safe return of Koosh Bag.

Jessica: he's GONE
Andrei: how could you let him get taken?
Andrei: I know it's not the same...but I have a red one over here
Jessica: I am amping up security for the other toys
Jessica: and sending a covert rescue team to retrieve him
Andrei: I just locked my speedracer action figure in my drawer
Andrei: can't take any chances
Jessica: there's a toynapper on the loose
Andrei: you should re-enact a scene from Taken
Jessica: HAHAHA get under the bed... "i hear them"... they're going to take you now...
Andrei: "I don't have any money. But what I do have is a particular set of skills that can make me a nightmare for people like you"
Jessica: I WANT MY SON BAAAAAAACK
Andrei: LOL!

Don't toy with me

Lauren: Ransom instructions to follow: 5PM
Lauren: do not notify HR
(a lock of his hair is taped to my keyboard)

Jessica: how much do you want for him????
Jessica: i'll give anything to have my baby back
Lauren: beer
Lauren: lots and lots of beer
Jessica: if you touch one hair on his head....
Jessica: one... other hair
Lauren: hahah
Lauren: you'll what?!?!?!?
Jessica: I'll.... i'll kill your potato head
Jessica: when u least see it coming
Jessica: and your little drooling rabbit too...

SU, biatch

Things I learned at the Syracuse vs. St. Johns basketball game:

• Planning ahead to wear orange would have been a stellar idea. As it were, I was forced to go to the GAP at lunch and the last orange sweater they had in my size happened to be (of course) on the mannequin. Yea, I bought that one.

• Knowing who they were playing would have prevented me from looking like a complete moron when my male co-workers asked. Realizing it was most likely the only Big East team that hosts home games in MSG may have helped as well.

• Remembering that MSG has a completely asinine rule that prevents me from bringing liquids inside would have kept me from yelling at a poor old man who uncovered my entirely full liter of Poland Spring in my bag and instructed me to drink it or leave it. I’m supposed to stand there and down a whole liter of water? What could you possibly think I’m going to do with that water inside that warrants it being forcibly confiscated?

• Apparently the beer comes with a pretzel stick now. Huh? Is this so that I don’t get drunk? Were people getting so trashed that it was decided to serve solid carbs with the beer? It’s like watching the game at a bar now! Beer and party snacks!

• People I went to college with go to these things. I saw about 10 undesirables in the lobby and had to pull slick maneuvers to avoid uncomfortable small talk. Mara saw one of our friends talking to someone and asked her, oh you ran into someone you know? How do you know him?... Uh, from college??

Top Ten

Man tries to steal laptop to check Facebook

Top ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) Wow, way to take obsession to a whole new level.

9) I suppose one might be inclined to stoop to this had they no way to be on Facebook 24/7 (ie, home computer, work computer, or blackberry)... And by “one”, I mean me.

8) Looks like someone got a sudden, uncontrollable urge to “poke”

7) He stole the laptop and ran out of Starbucks. But the free Wi-fi connection only works IN Starbucks... Genius plan, really.

6) If you are caught stealing someone’s laptop, maybe attempt to come up with a more sympathetic excuse besides that you desperately needed to stalk your ex.

5) Must check breaking news? The state of the economy? Work e-mail? Nope, the utter importance and time sensitive matter of who took the which Sex and the City character are you quiz.

4) Oh please, please release his name so I can see what is so intensely urgent on his profile.

3) I guess it was his turn in Scramble.

2) Jessica is now friends with Laptop Stealer via the People you definitely do not want to know Tool.

And the number 1 reason this is a great headline...

1) I’ve always wanted to update my status to say, “I just stole someone’s laptop from Starbucks.” In fact, I think I will do that right now.

Reality Bites

Of course I watched the Oscars last night. And the pre-shows. How could one not? The constant curiosity regarding whether some celebrity would show up wearing something intensely insane (I’m talking to you Sophia Loren), or that someone would get accosted by Gary Busey would be too much to take. However looking back on it, I expended almost 6 hours of my life on complete nonsense. I could probably use a stronger word to describe those horrendous musical numbers, but we’ll leave it at nonsense for now. It’s always fun to watch and fantasize about being glamorous, talking to Ryan Seacrest, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, or wearing the ginormous, sparkly, orgasmic diamond earrings that Natalie Portman had (lord, have mercy), but we need to face it, it’s not real life. In real life, Brad and Angelina are elitist douchebags, if I had those earrings there’s a good chance I’d be mugged on the subway, and I had to come to work today, at my desk... Which does not come with a posh trailer, crudité platter or love scene with Clive Owen. Trust me, reality kills fantasy 99.9% of the time...

That’s why I find celebrity “Crushes” so interesting. And I’m not talking about the fact that I find Josh Duhamel extremely attractive. I mean crushes that border on obsession. I cannot imagine sitting at my desk daydreaming about and cyber fan site stalking some guy I’ll never meet. I definitely did though... When I was 16. I probably cut out every photograph of Keanu Reeves in celebrity magazines from fifty countries and made an amazing collage on the back of my bedroom door. It really was quite a sight. And after all of my adoration, for some reason, Keanu and I did not fall in love and get married at a castle. Wonder why that was?? Luckily, I’m over it and choose to focus on reality these days. There are plenty of celebrities, that trust me, if they showed up on my doorstep... I couldn’t be responsible for my actions (see photo above, and yes, he is fully smirking at me because we're in love). But, I’d much rather fantasize about those earrings and leave Hugh Jackman and George Clooney in the reality they belong in... Which will sadly never be mine...

I'm bringin blue back

I was extremely bummed when the pharma companies recently agreed to stop producing reminder items such as pens and mugs. It really was a sad, sad development. That was one of the best perks of my job (even sadder)... Well besides the constant paycheck. Some of my friends who work in other industries get free clothing or jewelry, free show or concert tickets, free dinners or spa days... I got free pens and post-it notes. And now I don’t even get that. Seriously, put yourself in my shoes. It’s not like I get free drugs! All I had to look forward to were those fun, useless trinkets. They say physicians can’t be swayed by tsochkes... Well then give them all to me instead! I have no problem admitting that I can fully be bought by stupid swag...

Here’s a quick way to win me over. Blue pens. Have you ever noticed that all of the mass produced product-logo pens write in black ink? What is up with that? Is blue ink more expensive? Less accepted? Does blue make us feel blue? I happen to wholeheartedly prefer writing in blue ink. In fact, I sorta hate black ink. Is that weird? Is blue ink going to go the way of the dinosaurs?

I went to a business fair at my office today, and collected three product pens. I then compiled those with the other pharma logo pens in my ridiculous pen collection. ALL of them write in black ink (and therefore I use none of them). WHY!!?? So I did some independent research on the matter. My friend Frank reminded me that ink comes from octopuses (I just thought it came from Bic) and that ink is black. I argued that it was Indigo, but he basically shut me down on that one. According to Wikipedia, and the entry that Frank probably wrote last night, octopus ink is indeed black. However, squid ink is blue-black! HA! I also uncovered that apparently black ink is seen as more professional, easier to copy, and slimming to your signature. As long as you are not writing in crayon... I think your professionalism is not in question. Screw black ink. I am starting a blue ink coup... Blue ink is going to take over the world...

Naked Tannercize

I've always wondered why Jews don't have confession. Whenever I watch a television show or movie where the characters go to confession to pour over their wrongdoings, I realize that I have no such outlet for that sort of thing. I guess Jews just call that therapy. And since my blog is sort of theraputic for me, I must confess something to you all right now. Dear blog readers, I have sinned. I went tanning, twice... Fine, three times, and I really enjoyed it. I am so so sorry. Actually, I need to confess again. I'm not really sorry.

Being tan is amazing. I can go out with my hair in a slop, no makeup and I still look good! You can't put a price on that. Well I guess you could. $10.41 for 8 minutes of UVA lights... or a lifetime of skin cancer. Yet, I can't stop going. Every time I go, it seems like the longest 8 minutes of my life. It's supposed to be relaxing, however I spend the entire time sweating like a maniac and obsessively freaking out that somehow the machine is broken, isn't shutting off, and I've been in there for a half an hour.

This weekend I convinced Meredith to go with me. We were admiring our bronzeness and discussing our time in the booth, when she told me that she has severe ADD and absolutely cannot stand still in there for 8 minutes so she does squats, arm pumps, spins around... Practically does an entire Jane Fonda workout and always hopes there are no cameras taping her. This time the result of her spinning landed her completely discombobulated and she was pressing on the wrong panel to try and leave the booth for a couple minutes, fully thinking she was locked in there, while in fact the door was on the other side. I would have paid to see that. Then it hit me! We should market her experiences as an awesome home video set: Meredith's naked tanning aerobics! I am such an entrepreneur! We are going to make gazillions! We shot some stills today to give you an idea of the premise. Investors are welcome...

Who's that girl?

My friend Katie and I have an inside joke about the gay pride parade. A couple of years ago, we accidentally went to the parade on our quest for Magnolia's cupcakes (see http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2008/06/posting-from-rtw-archives.html). So last year we went again to relive our adventure. When I posted photos from our day (see http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2008/06/dont-rain-on-my-parade.html), Katie qualified that we are not lesbians, we're just really enthusiastic about parades! I suppose I never thought there was any confusion surrounding that matter, but apparently I was mistaken. Just so we all know for future reference, just because we're single, doesn't mean we're all lesbians... (not that there's anything wrong with that)

When I was at dinner the other night, my friend told me the greatest story. Her roommate was out to dinner with her mother and brother at the Cheesecake Factory and all of a sudden her brother asked her if she was a lesbian. Obviously completely shocked, her roommate asked him what would lead to this assumption. He said he hadn't heard her talk about any guys lately, and last year at her birthday at the karaoke place, some girl he didn't recognize dedicated a song to her. The song went a little something like "how do I get you aloneeee...", that girl singing was me... And I dedicated the actual act of me singing, not the song lyrics, to her because it was her birthday.

First off, "Alone" is my staple karaoke song, not that I need to explain that to anyone or their brothers. That is the reason I sang it, not because I was secretly pining away for the birthday girl. I'll probably now avoid dedicating that to anyone ever again, and clearly shouldn't even consider ever performing the "I kissed a girl" song. Secondly, if her roommate was going to come out of the closet, I doubt she'd want to remember that very liberating moment taking place at the local Cheesecake Factory. What's that old saying? When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me? Hopefully I can find a way to be left out of future lesbian karaoke conspiracies...

Good Lord

Holy whoa. What in the name of all things holy has Joaquin Phoenix done to himself?? I didn't even realize someone that attractive could ever find a way to become so utterly unattractive. But he has certainly decisively proven me wrong. This interview is almost as awkward as his "I'm a NYC street bum" look. Joaquin needs become friends with a razor, or rather a weed whacker ASAP. Maybe also lay off the horse tranquilizers...

A Virtual Macchiato Monday Crew Reunion

Jessica thinks Rihanna called the police to report a domestic Disturbia while Chris Brown tried to Run It. 9:35am

Melissa at 2:41pm February 10

...do you think it's because she's a "Good Girl Gone Bad?"

Jessica at 2:46pm February 10

ha! I think he should get used to his "wall to wall" ratio being a 6x9 prison cell

Melissa at 2:58pm February 10

I dunno, jbrd! I think it's a "S.O.S!"

Jessica at 3:22pm February 10

He can certainly "kiss kiss" his career goodbye! UM, I've got tons of these... let's keep going! haha

Mara at 3:25pm February 10

Like I said in my status yesterday....word on the street was an "Umbrella" was the deadly weapon! YAY I like this game!

Jessica at 3:27pm February 10

I heard that she was being "unfaithful"

Mara at 3:37pm February 10

Maybe she told him to "Shut Up and Drive"

Jessica at 3:39pm February 10

Right now she's saying "I hate that I love you", we should "Break it off"

Mara at 3:50pm February 10

And he says I wont "Take a Bow" Im "Willing to Wait"

Melissa at 4:11pm February 10

Pssh, girl, please... Chris, himself, said it best. She should take a hint "say goodbye..." forever."

Melissa at 4:12pm February 10

...maybe it's time to check into "Rehab."

Jessica at 4:14pm February 10

"If I never see your face again"... just "live your life"

Mara at 4:18pm February 10

I was just gonna say that!!! But she did also say Melissa, "Theres a Thug in My Life"

Melissa at 4:19pm February 10

...and yet the "question existing" is if she's going to "break it off" and say this is the "final goodbye."

Please explain??

Mara and I were at California Pizza Kitchen, where I ordered pizza because that's what one orders at a pizza kitchen, when we noticed this odd setup at the bar. In a sea of high bar stools, there are two random midget chairs. If you sit there, you can't even see over the bar! Is that the kiddie table? For really tall people? Or really small people? We absolutely could not figure it out, but were determined to sit there next time, so we decided to ask our waiter. He asked the manager and alas, it is seating for wheelchairs at the bar. Crap, we were really hoping it was for the Lollipop Guild...

Perfect Strangers

I was at the bank and feeling quite jovial on Saturday, so I cordially began a conversation about the length of the bank line with the woman behind me. Usually I feel zero need to proactively engage with strangers, yet possibly because of the 50 degree temperatures, I was a bit less hibernational (NOT a word) in nature. Apparently however, I opened a conversation can of worms and the universe decided that I wanted to talk to everyone... Which I’d now like to take the opportunity to urgently set straight. Dear universe, please stop telling strangers it’s okay to talk to me. I’d appreciate if you could take care of this ASAP. Love, Jessica.

Since my fateful exchange with the lady in the bank on Saturday, 3 complete strangers have decided I look like someone to randomly talk to. Seriously, this has never happened to me before. People do not talk to me... Well unless it’s to creepily tell me to “smile.” I first noticed this strange phenomenon after my bank conversation, when I arrived at 81st and Central Park West in an attempt to take the downtown subway to Port Authority... Which I soon discovered wasn’t running. I, obviously unhappy to find myself in this situation seeing as I would now miss my bus to NJ, scrambled to find another way downtown and was confronted with Fran.

We’ll call her Fran. Sadly we did not exchange names. Fran, who also happened to be on the phone while talking to me, began asking how long I’d been waiting for the downtown bus, do I see one?, is one coming? Lady, what the hell is wrong with your eyes? You are standing right next to me. Can you not look for the bus for yourself? Do I have bionic bus locating vision? She begins to tell me her sad story of woe, how much she hates the MTA, how long it took her to get across town, while I figure if I have to listen to this crap, I might as well share my unfortunate story as well. But she doesn’t care, she talks over me and keeps blabbing about herself until the bus finally arrives. You suck Fran, don’t ever talk to me again.

At Port Authority, I meet Nadia, who approaches me because she has no idea where she’s going and I have no idea what she’s saying in her heavy accent. Why do I look like I have all of the answers? Do I suddenly appear to be some kind of approachable person? How do I make this stop!!??

And lastly this morning on the bus (wow, noticing a pattern here... Never getting on a bus again) some lady that I don’t even have the energy nor interest to assign a fake name, started talking to me while I sat there fully wearing my headphones and not listening to her. I honestly could not hear a word she was saying to me, because I was clearly listening to music, so I simply kept nodding my head and smiling at her until she either realized I wasn’t interested or stopped talking.

Really people. I think we might be taking this Jessica is a nice person in 2009 thing a bit too far. It’s only February, at least let me ease into it. Can we quell the random stranger verbal attacks until at least May?

Proof is in the pudding

Meredith told me this morning that she heard on a radio show that more women fantasize about food than sex. Per my conversation this afternoon with Mara... I can now see how that could be.

Mara: email from you to me and Sari:
Mara: “EXCUSE ME??? Do I work here alone??? This is unacceptable! Get your tired, hung over butts to work… you can’t leave me here by myself!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU????
ULTIMATE SAD FACE”
Jess: hahahaha when was that?!
Mara: ummm a long time ago
Mara: 8/4/2004
Jess: HAHAH!!!
Jess: it was fun to read the old blogs last night
Mara: omg i was reading a really funny one about us going up to cuse and doing nothing but eating
Jess: haha we've been talking about doing that forever!
Jess: all the places we'd eat
Jess: I personally would like to have strawberry pancakes from eggplant LIKE NOW
Mara: that is EXACTLY what you said then also!!!
Mara: hahahahahhaaha
Jess: haha at least I haven't changed a bit!
Mara: and baked ziti from angottis
Jess: i've been thinking about those damn pancakes for like 6 years!
Jess: omg yes
Jess: and pad thai from Erawan
Jess: which is probably no longer even there
Jess: although i'm sure i told you that then too
Jess: tuna from that bagel place on marshall st
Jess: let's go now!
Mara: ohhh the one near cosmos
Jess: YES
Jess: wtf was it called??
Jess: me neeeeeed to know
Mara: im working on it
Mara: BAGEL DINER!!!!!
Jess: YEAAAAAAAAA

Nicely done

A couple of months ago, Meredith nominated me for “nicest person” on Facebook, through one of those uber-annoying applications that I have to download, give all of my information to, and never use again. I thought this was hilarious. Let’s all be honest here... I have no business holding that title. Nor should I even be nominated! I am not nice. And actually the more I think about it, I think that’s okay with me.

What does nice even mean? I find that I default to describing someone as nice when I have nothing else to say about them. Basically someone who I say is nice, is someone who hasn’t really made much of another impression on me. There’s no other descriptor to use for them other than nice. Which basically means nothing. You are a human being, you are blah, you are nice. Back in college, when we were rushing people through our sorority, we actually banned the term nice. We were forced to find other ways to describe the girls besides nice, because nice was the equivalent of having nothing to really say about them at all. Personally, I’d be offended if the only thing someone I met could describe me as was nice. I’d probably even take a description of mean over nice. At least then I made an impression!

Saying someone is nice, is like saying a piece of clothing is cute. Everything is cute. Those jeans are cute. That top is CUTE. It’s like a catchall phrase for nothingness. The entire universe is cute and nice. Must we all be reintroduced to our friend the Thesaurus??...

Tow-tally sucks

There are lots of places I have never been. Some, that I wish I could go to, like Italy or The Russian Tea Room... And some, that I have no desire to ever go to and am fully glad I’ve never experienced up until this point. I’d lump the impound lot into that second bucket. The only person who would find the impound lot hilarious, is someone whose car wasn’t towed... Which luckily happened to be me in this specific situation. If my car was towed, I would FREAK OUT. I’d most certainly get that heartburn like feeling of sheer panic, followed by the overwhelming urge to sob, and instead of problem solving my way out of the predicament like a smart adult, I’d be a total disaster. However, I am also a girl. When we pulled up to the street and found my friend’s car to be no longer where he had left it, his reaction was simply to curse for a minute and then ask the cabbie to take us to wherever they tow the cars to.

Wherever they tow the cars to happens to be the impound lot on 39th street and the West Side Highway. This place is quite a sight. A line of despondent/irate/depressed people forms behind window 1, calling their parents/spouses/friends while they’re waiting and relaying their down and out situation for all to hear. Obviously the NYPD doesn’t take much care furnishing a place like this. It’s complete bare bones of cinder block walls and tile floors which serve almost perfectly to project and echo your misery to everyone present. Then to add insult to humiliation, you have to cough up $185 to get your car back, because the city couldn’t hire writers who could clearly explain on a sign what exactly the parking rules were. WTF is No Standing? Is sitting allowed? What about hopping? Why can’t you just say No Parking? That seems much more direct to me. Otherwise the sign might as well be in another language. Aren’t there other ways for the city to generate revenue besides blatantly and purposefully confusing people, then forcing them to go to the pound? Every time my friend called someone and said he was at “the pound” I got confused. Trust me, there was not a thing there that I wanted to adopt...