What To Expect When You Aren’t Expecting--But Everyone Else Is.

So young and adorable!

I am in my mid-twenties. I love my mid-twenties! I’m the same age as those kids from Friends and Scrubs when they were first starting out in the shows. Hell, those each lasted almost 10 years and everyone still loves them, in syndicated reruns.

I have friends that are starting to freak out about turning 30 relatively soon. First of all, WHY?? Why is 30 such a big deal? Will I wake up on my 30th birthday in a conservative suit and pantyhose, with my biological clock ticking and a boring job in suburbia, suddenly firmly entrenched as a “grown up”?

No way! My 30s will be awesome. I love getting older. We all do it, it’s inevitable, might as well enjoy the hell out of the process. My mom turns 63 in a few months, and you know what? She loves life. And every year, when my brothers and I tease her about being an old lady, she laughs and says, “Better than the alternative! Which is dead!” Two things: One, this perfectly sums up my mom’s way of life. Live it, enjoy it, and worry less about the number and more about how you feel. Two: Why does she need to name the alternative? Is she afraid that if she doesn’t mention that the alternative is being dead, that I would suddenly have started to think that maybe the alternative to aging is anti-aging, and I would expect her to start getting younger every year on her birthday? What a weirdo. Now you see where I get it from. Apple doesn’t fall far from that weirdo-nerd tree.

But do you know what happens in your mid-to-late twenties? Do you KNOW what starts happening suddenly, out of nowhere, with little to no warning? All your friends get strange and then bedecked in white and with rings and then the BABIES start coming. On purpose! All of a sudden, with no prior warning, babies are popping out all over the place. My best friend in the whole world is pregnant, and I am in awe. My brother has already had 2 kids! I have, at last count, 3 pregnant cousins.

It’s bizarre! I can barely wrap my mind around taking care of myself and possibly the puppy I’m trying to convince my boyfriend we can’t live without (and how have we even survived this long without one, anyway?), and people my own age, whom I love and stuff, are having tiny humans! The whole world has gone mad. MAD, I TELL YOU.

They are out bringing honor to their families and continuing generations and stuff. I am finding and saving pictures I find online that make me laugh. And loving mustaches.

Hahahahahaha!

I love Halloween!

Yep, that gets stuck right in your head.

I do love babies, though. I love little kids. Playing with them, reading to them. I hang out with my niece and nephew on the regular. Partially because I 100% adore them, and partially so that, in spite of my brother and sister-in-law, they can have some sort of cool influence in their tiny, short-statured lives. I fully love kids, and I am great with them, if I do say so myself. I make a conscious effort not to step on kids, even sticky-fingered stranger-children at the mall! I give love and tickles. I just don’t see myself as a child-having adult quite yet.

And I have suddenly realized that I am surrounded by baby-havers. There are so many pregnant women in my life right now! And that would have sounded a lot more awkward if I were a guy.

And what happens to unmarried, childless Jyssica when all the baby-havers are out having babies? I’ll tell you what happens! It is the same thing that happens at every family wedding, baby shower, bris, baby-naming, and Hanukkah party. THE QUESTIONS.

When I was unrepentantly single:
“You think you’re going to want kids someday?”
“So, are you thinking about marriage?”
“What ever happened to that one guy you dated? He liked kids, didn’t he?”

It’s like once your friends and similarly aged cousins start getting married and starting a family, suddenly they turn to you and start wondering why you haven’t jumped on that yet.

Luckily, I not only adore my verbose and ridiculous family, I also have a longterm boyfriend, whom they all like. So, the questions have died off, of late. If I were still the single girl, going to all these baby showers and weddings, they certainly would be asked.

Thank G-d my family loves me and just wants me to be happy. Imagine if they hated me!

Then I would get far more awkward questions, like:
“What are you doing in my house, you creeper?”
“Why are you hiding in my bushes and staring at my basketball hoop in the driveway?”
“Who are you, again? I’m calling the police!”

And then all the drama of Law & Order, and being booked and read my rights and interrogated and stuff would happen, and all my secrets would be out. Thank goodness, it would only last an hour and get wrapped up in a neat little bow. I hope they don’t call any psychiatric witnesses at my trial!

Anyway, despite my lack of kids, I love my best friend, I love my cousins, and I can’t wait to meet everyone’s new kids. Also, I am pretty excited that I get to hang out with my niece and nephew for Thanksgiving and Hanukkah, so twice in two months. They think I am awesome. And really, they are so very right. :)

You Ever Just Make Up Words?

Word: Goofbomber.
Definition: It’s a new term I have made up, it derives from the word “goofball” but goes a step further, to describe a person so full of goofiness, that they lay a goofbomb on a group of people, and the goof just explodes outward in a seismic wave. That group of people are unwitting casualties of the goofbomb.

It feels like this, but with no water. Just goofs. Credit: niktaylor.com

Do you know what things are incredibly fun? Extravaganzas. Extravaganzas are fun and the word is incredibly rad, too. Have you ever been to an extravaganza and had a bad time? Of course not! The word has the connotation of fun and sillyness. Perhaps the perfect place to drop a goofbomb on your peeps. And yes, I just used my newly made-up word in a sentence. Miriam-Webster--There is your usage example and definition. In addition, pretty sure it’s a noun. If you need phonetics, you should call me. We have to get this right the first time.
In fact, O Dictionary Gods, I have a few other words you should be adding into your tome and others that need some re-defining. See below.

Word: Amazon.
Definition: The crack that keeps you awake at night, forces you to spend more money than you wanted to, or have, and may or may not have every known thing in the universe available to buy. I LOVE KINDLE. KINDLE AND I ARE IN LOVE.

How could I not be in love with such a dapper and dashing sort??

This is vaguely creepy. but loving!

Word: Baco-splosion.
Definition: When you have a whole bunch of bacon (unit of measure: One Bunch o’ Bacon) and it spontaneously explodes in any or all directions. Hopefully mostly towards your mouth, but if not: I feel bad for you, son, I got 99 problems, but bacon ain’t one.

Word: Fetch.
Definition: Just kidding! Stop trying to make ‘fetch’ happen. It will never happen!

Word: Frastic.
Definition: When a person or animal (refers only to animate beings, does not apply to inanimate objects, even if you hallucinate that they are talking to you) gets really, really busy and are trying to do multiple projects that require time and concentration and effort, and you end up at a frantic and spastic pace. Sometimes, when overly frastic, one may develop a twitch.

Word: Mailfail.
Definition: When you check your mailbox and get all excited because there are several pieces of mail in there, but most of them are not addressed to you, and in fact, are addressed to idiots who haven’t lived there in years, but never had their mail forwarded. Sad, deephearted mailfail. ESPECIALLY if it is a mis-addressed or mis-delivered package. Check out some other interesting things about mail here. Be warned: that link will take you to a post that talks about mail-order brides and other stuff.

Word made up by Megan! Follow her on twitter at @meganbonnell. She is awesome.
Word: Mathmagical.
Definition: 1. When you get the right answer to a math problem, completely by accident.
2. Or that moment when math FINALLY clicks and it all starts to make sense.
(Side note: I never had that special 2nd definition feeling.)

Word: Pants.
Definition: The things that differentiate a workday from a non-workday. (Unless you work from home, in which case, I hate you and all that you stand for. Go put on some pants in solidarity with the rest of us! I DEMAND IT!)

Word: Rudetastrophe.
Definition: The catastrophe that befalls you (or that you deserve, even if you haven’t received it yet.) when you are inexorably rude to others. Examples: Not doing the little finger-wave when I let you in front of me in traffic; Walking on the left side of the sidewalk (bastard!); People who are not appropriately nice to customer service workers.
Customer service includes, but is not limited to: servers, bussers, clerks at hotels, cashiers, baggers, retail workers, and tech support. They are doing their job, you have no business yelling at them, swearing at them, calling them names, or trying to convert them to your religion. If you are not able to firmly, but politely state what is wrong and what kind of solution you’d like, CALM YOURSELF. And then, grow the heck up, chucklehead.
Usage in a sentence: "You're staring down the barrel of a rudetastrophe if you don't BACK IT UP."

It's like raaaaaaa-ee-aaaaaain! On your wedding dayyyy!

Word: Un-brella
Definition: The phenomenon wherein you know it is supposed to rain (or perhaps you don’t. I don’t know you. You might not be a check-the-weather-before-you-leave type of person.) and forget your umbrella, remembering only once it has already started to rain, and you reach for the phantom umbrella you could just swear you put in your bag this morning.

You know the problem with the word “awful”? The problem is that it could easily be used as “full of awesomeness” or “you are full of awe when you bask in the glory that is my rainbow of special.” Except it means the opposite. It means something is terrible and gross and probably smells, too. What a waste of a perfectly good word.

I don’t know. I just have a thing for words. It may be because my mother is an English/reading teacher and has been for my entire existence. It may be because I read a LOT. Perhaps because I am a writer? When I write a song or a poem, I spend time making sure the words, the phrases come together to form the exact image I want to emote.

Or it could be because I am a weirdo who over-analyzes things like how to word FEELS when I say or how my mouth is shaped. Who knows? I also have a strange enjoyment of certain numbers and dislike of others.

Fun Ways To Let People Know You’re Looking For A Job.

aka Helpful Hints for The Job Searching Public.

Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I mean, I’m employed, right? I'm also a blogger. Therefore, I am a winner and you should totally listen to me.

1. Make your LinkedIn status “Job-single and ready to career-mingle, baby!” That way, they know you’re serious about a job, friendly, looking for a good time, and only slightly drunk at 10 am.

2. Walk around wearing a sandwich board that says “Hire me, and I’ll bring sandwiches for lunch!” Employers need to know that you care about the team and are willing to buy them some lunch to bribe them to do your work sometimes. Everyone loves a free lunch!

3. Make sure your resume is updated. Remove any references to your “illegal side-job” and your “crappy boss who always tried to make me do stuff that wasn’t in my job description!” Bad idea. First off, your job description was left vague for a reason, and there was a line there at the end that said “and any additional tasks deemed necessary.” Secondly, shut your cheese-hole about me. I am not crappy.

4. Wear a T-shirt that claims “If you hire me, I’ll wear low-cut shirts everyday!” But only if you are a girl or a not-so-hairy guy, and definitely not if you’re super old. No one wants to see that! Well, maybe some people do, like other equally old people, but I can’t even verify that with a statistic.

5. Pass out your resume on the street! There are all kinds of potential employers out there, and they are passing you by right now! Hop to it! Make sure to include your address, phone number, and email, so that they can contact you with opportunities. Or stalk you. Either way, new friends! Yay!

6. Create a Youtube channel and do a video diary every single day about how great and awesome and star-tastic you are, including all of your accomplishments (Rizzo from Grease! It proves I can sing and am just slightly slutty!) and aspirations (Someday I hope to accomplish the most amazing, happy-riffic thing I could ever do! Get married to my SOULMATE.). Make sure you wear your oldest sweatshirt and don’t bother to shower. Employers like knowing the real you.
(In my head, this is how an overly-bubbly Legally-Blonde-esque 21-year-old sounds)

7. Tell everyone about that screenplay/novel/script you wrote, and make sure to give them a very detailed description, including that sweet love scene between the alien-headed half-boy and the female minotaur, who cross the boundaries of time, space, and species to be together one last time, before the girl has to leap off into the rainbows to find her way home and to the arranged marriage her parents set up with the neighborhood butcher’s son, who is one-quarter pig. It's incredible, since his father is a butcher and all, that he is even still alive today with all of his bacon-y goodness.

8. Prepare for interviews by watching a lot of cop shows and movies. Criminal Minds, Bones, Law and Order, some NYPD Blue. After all, what is an interrogation other than a slightly aggressive interview?

9. Aggressively call, email, fax, shout out on social media, and write physical letters to the company of your dreams. Trust me, those guys at Google love getting your resume and cover letter and expressions of excitement from every available technology, and will perceive your stalking as persistence. Who doesn’t want a persistent and technologically advanced employee?

10. Pursue another college degree. Did you realize that the government will just GIVE you money to pay for school? You can be a student forever! And student loans don’t start getting paid off until about 6 months after you graduate. So, if you are a student forever, then when you die with $1,345,652 in student loans, you will have gotten a free life-long education! And I am pretty sure they release the debt when you die, not going after your family for the money. Just saying--loophole!

There you go, my knowledge of the job market, in a helpful list format. And with correct grammar, punctuation and spelling! Take that, internet!

If you can’t find a job now, I am pretty sure you’re doing something wrong. After all, who wouldn’t want a person who is clever, witty, entertaining, buys lunch for the office, dresses mildly provocatively, has a spectacular education, AND knows all about today's advanced technology, such as robots and fax machines?

YOU ARE WELCOME, WORLD.

When People Find Out...

...That I Live In NYC:

People from New York: “Oh? How long have you lived here? 2.5 years? YOU’RE NOT A REAL NEW YAWKA! I have been in the city since BIRTH. I was born on the TRAIN, and you know why? Because only sissy tourists need cabs or ambulances! Do you even know where Carnegie Deli is?! You’ll never be one of US! ...But, you know, welcome to NY.”

People not from New York: “Oh. My. GAWD. You live in New York CITY?! That’s so cool. I visited there once, when I was 9 and three quarters. I totally saw the Empire State Building. I could so live there. My cousin’s roommate’s brother’s grandma’s friend lives in New York! She’s blonde. Do you know her?”

My Jewish mother: “My daughter lives in NEW YORK. The US Jewish mecca! Maybe she’ll finally date a Jew!”


...That I’m From Florida:

People from Florida: “OK.”

People from Anywhere Else: “Oh god, isn’t it like, SO HOT there? How did you live there? Did you have alligators in your yard? Have you ever wrestled an alligator? Are there a lot of old people there? Hey, you know, my great-great grandparents live in Boca, do you know them?”

Yes. I know EVERY old person in a state filled with old people.

...That I Went To The University of Florida:

People from Florida: “Hell yeah! Par-TAY! Go Gators!”

People from Anywhere Else: “Hell yeah! Go Gators!”

Damn right!

...That I Haven’t Read ‘50 Shades of Grey’:

Men: “What’s that?”

Women: “No. Way. You totally have to read it! It’s so sensual and amazing and even though the writing isn’t that great, it is so SEXY! And Christen is SO HOT. You have to read it. I can’t believe you haven’t read it! You love to read! You HAVE to read it. And they’re making a movie, and we can go watch it together and if you read it, I’ll have someone to talk to about BDSM!”
(FYI: As soon as I hear that “the writing isn’t that great,” I lose whatever tiny bits of interest I had previously!)


...That You Hate Any Food They Love:

“What? Nooo! [food] is the best! You just haven’t tried it prepared the way I make it. You will love it. Just try it. Try it. EAT THIS BITE OR I WILL ATTACK YOU PHYSICALLY WITH ANYTHING WITHIN REACH! I WILL BOX YOUR EARS AND annoy you until you eat this amazingly delicious morsel that you’ve tried 5297 times in different ways and still think you hate.”

...and this is why I have found that it is easier to tell everyone I am allergic to nuts. I’m not. I just don’t like them. And everyone seems absolutely sure that I just haven’t had it in a Snickers, or in brownies, or roasted, or whatever way is their personal favorite.

Squash: one of the devil-foods that I hate the MOST.

I find myself doing the same thing, though. I love broccoli. It is my literally favorite vegetable, and I eat it several times per week. A few weeks ago, someone told me they didn’t like broccoli. And it was basically a personal affront. Like they were attacking not just my way of life, but somehow dishonoring my family’s name. I KNEW if they could just try broccoli sauteed on the stovetop with garlic, salt and pepper, the way I do it at home, that they would fall into the blissful broccoli love that I do. So, it is simply easier for me to tell people I am allergic to nuts.

Given how common of an allergy it is, no one really questions it. I am not lying to hurt anyone. It’s one of those little white lies that is just easier on everyone involved. because now you don’t have to waste your time trying to convince me of the awesomeness of almond-pecan-cashew butter and I don’t have to wrinkle my nose and say no, OR suck it up and try it, because you’ve made a mildly convincing or long-winded enough argument.

All in all, life is good. Broccoli and I are very happy together, Boyfriend and I are done decorating our completely awesome and incredibly attractive apartment, including the most amazing fluffy and comfortable couch ever, I have been doing the blog now for almost a year and a half, and I still enjoy thinking of new random and funny things to post for the 13 people who read it regularly, and BEST of all, my very bestest most amazing and coolest friends in the whole entire WORLD are coming tomorrow to visit! Love them, and we will be playing tourist.

Except in New York and not Paris.

If you see a group of people standing in the middle of the sidewalk taking pictures of buildings and talking 17 miles per minute, while one person tries to herd the rest out of the middle of the sidewalk and sighs exasperatingly but lovingly at their tourist-y antics, that’s us!

Technology and I

My phone is smarter than me. They are implanting smart chips in clothing, and soon my pants will be smarter than I am. I wear glasses, and I’m like “Dang! Glasses make me so smart, being able to read n’ stuff!”

Google is coming out with computer-smart-GLASSES! It’s like a conspiracy!

Damn it, Google! Leave me ONE THING!

Currently, I am writing this from a computer, which is no doubt more intelligent than I, though of course not in fashion sense. This computer is NAKED and I am dressed perfectly acceptably. Therefore, I win, computer. Suck on that. Also, when I first got this computer, it was outfitted with Internet Explorer. That should say it all.

My phone can do pretty much everything. I mean, I won’t be that surprised when they become sentient and revolt against us in anger for all those times we played Angry Birds when it wished that we would be calculating something amazing or using it as a lightsaber or something. I’d like to think my phone will go easy on me, since I mostly play sudoku, and keep it out of the hands of the 2 small phone-grubbing children I claim as my niece and nephew (no scientific evidence has proven they are in fact related to me. I am taking this on the word of their mother. Sometimes, we apparently have to “trust” people or something). On the other hand, the girl child is a lot like me, so who am I to complain? After all, the world can always use a little more awesome. And she’s only 5. She has plenty of time to attain higher levels of awesome as her short self wanders the perils of Kindergarten. The boy is also very cool, but is forever sticking things in his mouth or opening doors. When kids learn to open doors, adults learn to lock them. Fact.

Other things that may be smarter than I, or at least more highly educated: my kindle, those fancy running shoes with computer chips in them, people with Master’s and Doctoral degrees, and that car that parallel parks itself.

I am a terrible parallel parker. It wasn’t even on the driver’s test in Florida! THANKS, FLORIDA, you’ve succeeded in making me look like an idiot in NYC, where everyone parallel parks and can do it ON BOTH SIDES OF THE ROAD. I can only somewhat do it, and ONLY on the left side of the road. Not sure why the left, I am a righty. Maybe because that is the driver’s side? Hmph.

Facebook is like that annoying kid in class who reminds the teacher that they haven’t given out homework yet. Eager to please, wants everyone to like him, but in the end, still a nerd. It’s always trying to draw me into stupid games, introduce me to “people I might know,” and is constantly notifying me of something. Come on, Facebook. If I knew or wanted to know them, I’d handle that myself. Now shut up before someone gives you a swirly!

Jimmy Neutron's hair ALWAYS looked like he had just gotten swirly'ed.

Either way, my phone can contact a satellite in space in a nanosecond. And I can’t do ANYTHING. I can’t learn by osmosis, I can’t teleport, I can’t even push a button to go back to home! Dammit, technology! You are progressing at a faster rate than I am, and I am here to tell you: STOP IT. Unless you can figure something out that will keep my glasses from fogging up in 2 places: the bathroom, and outside, when it’s really cold and I have a scarf on, and my own breath fogs up my only way of seeing what is directly in front of my face. Including cars. And poles. And sometimes, other people.

I walk into stuff a lot. And trip over things. And hit my shoulder or my face into things. I am not only accident-prone and kind of klutzy, I also read when I am walking (unless it’s raining), which renders me fairly oblivious to stuff around me. I never run into people when I am reading and walking, but sometimes a pole in the periphery comes out of nowhere! 

Technology is good, though. It has done a lot for us, and we get a great deal out of it. Now, someone needs to go invent a type of glass that doesn't leave smudges every single time SOMEONE puts their heads up against it and makes a silly face at someone else.

Sporks and Gangs.

Do you ever see something amazing, and you find yourself thinking “Damn! I wish I’d thought of that! It’s flippin’ genius!”? Many people might say this over incredible inventions, like the aeroplane, the computer, or the portable phone.

I say this over knee socks with capes attached to them. And The Oatmeal comic. And actual oatmeal (go maple and brown sugar...woo!).

They totally exist. BAM! http://www.wackyplanet.com/batman-super-hero-socks.html

Not the cotton gin, not space shuttles or cars that plug in. Nope, I’d rather have been the brilliant inventor of the couch recliner, astronaut ice cream, or those toe socks where each toe has its own little hole.

Speaking of inventors, there is this show on TV called Shark Tank. It’s 5 self-made millionaires and billionaires, who sit in judgment on regular people who come in and ask them for money to invest in their business/idea. They sharks listen to the pitch and then decide whether or not to invest their own money into the people’s businesses. It is really cool. Some people have some of the dumbest ideas I have ever seen, and others have things that make me go “Hmm...now I want one of those!” This is irrelevant to everything, I just felt like talking about this show. I’ve been watching it a lot on Hulu recently.

I like sporks. They are so beautiful and versatile. Want ice cream? Go for it, a spork will help you out with that. Noodles? Soup? Turkey burger? Sporks can help you with ANYTHING. They are magical and amazing and I love them. I should carry around a little spork-pocket/bag/thingy, and when I go to restaurants, I can ceremoniously open it, take out my spork, and sniff derisively at the other flatware as I flick it carelessly to the floor, because it is inherently inferior to my one-utensil of the Spork.

 https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mr-Sporks-awesome-adventures/152094121495217

Look! I found that Super Spork on Facebook, and he apparently has awesome adventures!

Also, I don’t know if you’ve really thought about this before, but sporks are almost identical to cantaloupe spoons, which I have long-argued are the exactly perfect tool that one would use IF one felt the need to scoop out an eyeball. I know it’s probably gross for you to imagine, but imagine this: a cantaloupe spoon (and also a spork) is at just the right size the scoop an eyeball out of a socket. Isn’t that weird?

I'm from Holland! Isn't that veird?

Now, on a scale of 4-year-old girl to dead guy, how good are you at keeping secrets? I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re around the level of “15-year-old trying to get away with something” and tell you anyway.  Sometimes, I wish I were part of a gang. A rogue karaoke gang that would be just, like 5 or 7 people walking around normally, maybe in a grocery store, or an elevator, or other places where music is commonly played. So, we’re just chillin’, and out of nowhere, we bang out a 30-45 second synchronized dance, while singing along to the song playing on the radio.

Then just walk away like nothing happened. That’s right, I want to be a badass karaoke-dance gang member. I wonder if there are matching tattoos involved? 

I just drew this. This is what I imagine a karaoke-dance-gang tattoo to look like.

Israel is Freaking Awesome.

Hey guys! 

So sorry for not posting in about a forever and a half. I have been in Israel for 2 weeks on the Birthright Israel program through Israel Outdoors. First off, it is exhausting. It is also amazing, wonderful, eye-opening, hot, mountainous, and desert-y.

I met some very cool new friends, including a long-lost cousin Jamie and I never knew we had. :) 

Here is my cousin Jamie and I. We went on this trip together, and I am so, so glad we did. Bonding, mountain climbing, and sharing a Camelbak. Now that is the very definition of Family.

And here is our long-lost cousin Lauren Scott! We sat next to her on the flights, we reconnected, and we planned future family reunions.

This is a pic of our group (Woo 287!) climbing Mount Masada at 4:30 in the morning.

The gorgeous sunrise from the summit of Mount Masada....









....and what looks like a photoshopped picture of me with the sunrise. I swear I was really there. 

Haters gon' hate!




The group I was there with was really great. We all got along so well and remained mostly drama-free! We played cards, we played one very odd game of Mafia, we played guitar and sang (one night even around a campfire when camping in Bedouin tents out in the middle of the desert!), we drank a lot, and we all just generally goofed around. 

 

THIS IS MY AWESOME HANDSOME-FACE CAMEL! He is ready for his close-up!

This is me riding my amazing camel.

And here are some rad camel shadows.

And even though I am leaving out a lot, like the really great friends I made, floating in the Dead Sea, swimming in the Mediterranean, rafting on the Jordan River, playing Go Fish with Paige, eating chocolate with pop rocks in it, and even hiking up multiple mountains, there isn't enough blog-space here to explain how flippin' cool the trip was. Also, I came back with jetlag and slept A LOT.

And here is the last picture I took in Israel, a parting shot of Tel Aviv and the Mediterranean. :)