The Jennifer Blogs

An open letter to the man who picked his wedgie as I walked behind him this morning.



Dear Wedgie Picker,



I was standing behind you today as we crossed Mitsume Dori. When the light turned green and you began to walk, it was *me* standing behind you who had to watch you dig your fingers inside your crack and pull out your apparently riding-up undies. This was not a pretty sight!



For one, Wedgie Man, you dug too deep.
Secondly, WM (may I call you WM for short?), you dug too long! How small *are* your underwear, anyway? 



Here's a tip - take Y800 out of your next paycheck and get a pair of boxer briefs. They're not only way better looking on men, but no wedgies! If you can afford it, splurge and spend Y1200 on the silky ones! Your bottom will thank you for it!



Sincerely,



The girl who had to watch you dig.

Warning: If you think my daughter is one of the most gentle, beautiful, innocent little darlings you've ever met, this WILL ruin your image of her. Turn back now.



My beautiful petite flower is gassy. And she's proud of it. In fact, tonight at dinner this little beauty interrupted my sentence with something loud and duck-like. Immediate laughter from her brother. She applauded herself. I left the table and warned her that if she did not start exercising her sphincter muscle that it will fail her miserably by the time she's allowed to date boys.



She wanted to know, "What's a phinkster?"

Ever since I moved to Tokyo I've been looking for bloggable moments. I've even got the kids trained. They will say something funny and I'll laugh...laugh...laugh. One of them will ask me, "Is this going in the blog?" They used to ask me, "Are you going to talk about this on the radio?" Now it's the blogs that worry them.



Like the other day I was telling Jean-Luc that he will have to shave soon. He's getting some fur on his upper lip. My little boy is becoming a man. Look out world! I don't know how old most guys are when they start shaving. I was oblivious to the fact that my brothers shaved when I was growing up. I had my own problems to deal with. Boys. Pimples. My period. All that fun stuff. So guy shaving wasn't even on my radar. But I know that at age 14, Jean-Luc will have to start shaving soon.



When I told him that he'd be shaving, Jean-Luc was adamant that he will NOT be shaving his lip. I told him that he would too be shaving. We went back and forth - "Will not." "Will too." "Will not." "Will too." (We're really mature around my house.) Until finally I called him a name. I said, "Listen here Paco McHairy Lip, you WILL too be shaving."

D'Ette liked my Spanish name for Jean-Luc, but she did me one better. She said, "We can call him Jalapeno!"



Before she could even ask I told her, "Yes. It's going in the blog."

You have been tagged. Post a new blog and list 10 odd or interesting things about you that most people don't know. Then tag 10 of your friends to do the same. Make sure you message or comment them and post a bulletin so they know they have been tagged!


1. My friend JP helped me pick my "radio name." He was reading an industry magazine and found a girl in Denver named "Jennifer Page" who was mentioned in one of the articles. We liked how it sounded and since she was in Denver and I was in Gainesville, FL, I took it.


2. I prefer eating with chopsticks to eating with a fork.


3. I picked two of the American Idols from the auditions. I knew from their auditions they would win that season, and I was right twice.


4. At one point in my life I was so afraid to speak in front of people that I had to drop out of my speech class in community college. I had to retake it to graduate, but waited a couple of semesters to work up the nerve.


5. I was named after my mother's favorite actress, Jennifer O'Neill. My middle name was my maternal grandmother's first name.


6. I had to go to speech class when I was a kid because I couldn't say my "esses." They sounded more like a "th."


7. I remember what I got for Valentine's Day in second grade, but not last year.


8. My knee surgery screwed me up. The doctor didn't send me to physical therapy right away, so by the time he did send me (several months after the surgery), it was about too late. I still have problems climbing stairs and doing certain cardio exercises.


9. I'm addicted to cereal. I love ALL KINDS (except the stuff with peanut butter in it) and could eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks in-between.


10. I really like what JJ said in her 10, so I'm going to borrow it. I've never heard it put so eloquently. Here goes: I am a Christian but I'm not likely to hit you upside the head with a bible. I don't feel it's my job to judge anyone and I would much rather show by *who* I am that I am a Christian than by preaching to anyone. What you do with your life is between you and God-not up for my approval or judgement. I do, however, hold my values and morals very close and am not afraid to stand up for them.

Valentine's Day is coming up and boy, do I feel sorry for the single girls! I thought that with the pending holiday you love to hate, I'd share some of my dating horror stories. Maybe that'll cheer up my single gals. And feel free to post yours, too.



Bad Date 1:
 We'll keep it on a first name basis. His name was Louis. (I guess it probably still is, huh?)

Louis and I were going on a blind date. Ugh. I gave Louis directions to the apartment, and he showed up right on time. I went to answer the door and all I could think when I saw him was GOMER. No kidding. Gomer Freakin' Pyle at my door. Still, I'm nice, so I can't just fake a cold all of a sudden. I notice he's got his hand behind his back. I figure he's got a bouquet of flowers. Nice gesture. He pulls his hand out from behind his back and he's got a bouquet alright -- a bouquet of TOOTHBRUSHES. NO KIDDING! His dad was a dentist (probably still is), so Louis thought he would stock me up on toothbrushes I guess. He was even kind enough to bring me a few sample toothpastes and dental flosses. Gomer.



So after I ran to put the toothbrushes in a vase of water (I'm kidding), we headed out to his Gomer car. I don't remember what he was driving, but I remembered feeling like Urkel. So anyway, I ask him where we're going. He decides that before dinner he'd like to take me some place "special." All I'm thinking is that I've never heard of an Inspiration Point in Huntsville or anything like that, so hopefully I'm safe. I'm a little puzzled when we pull up to an empty building -- a ... what does the sign say? Dentist office? Oh great. He's going to stick a drill in my mouth next. 

Not quite, but he did give me the world class tour of his dad's dental office. All this before dinner. What more could a girl ask for?



I don't remember where we ate, but I was so glad when it ended. Gomer dropped me off. He did not get a kiss. But he did get made fun of the next day on the air. How could I not share this date disaster with the guys on the morning show?




Bad Date 2:
 Larry took me to a fair being hosted by a local car dealership. (Yep, still in Alabama.) We went to Subway first to grab a bite to eat. Even though I told him I don't do well on wild rides, he insisted I ride something that made me go upside down, jerked me around, and then deposited me dizzy on the ground. 

Next stop - the Pirate. 'Cause what else should you do after you've eaten and then ridden a wild ride? Ride in a big ship that rocks you back and forth, baaaack and forrrth. 

Next thing I know I'm feeling really queasy and I lose my sub and chips on the Pirate. Ahoy. 

Yep - it's coming out and I. Can't. Stop. It. I hear a kid yell, "Someone puked!" 

I'd open my mouth - puke comes pouring out - and as the ship rocks us baaaack and forrrrth, someone else gets swung into my liquefied Turkey and Swiss on Wheat.



I was covered when we got off the ship. For a second I contemplated telling Larry someone puked on me, but it wasn't just on my shirt and my watch - it was all over my chin and mouth. Needless to say, I didn't get a kiss goodnight. In fact, I didn't even get another date.



Happy Valentines Day to my single friends.

Warning -- this is a very long blog, but there really is a point/lesson.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Being in Baton Rouge has made me think a lot. We moved from Louisiana in 2004 and this is our first visit back. It feels weird. Things have changed a lot since we left. Of course, much of it is probably due to Hurricane Katrina. 



Tonight we had coffee with some friends that we haven't seen or talked to since we moved. We didn't hang out with Stephanie and Chad a lot before we moved, but they are some of my favorite people. Stephanie and I worked together under some pretty crappy conditions, so we bonded very easily since we were the only two sane people there. It was really good to see her again.



Anyway, I got to thinking about how all of this started.



When I moved to Louisiana, I couldn't get a job in radio to save my life. I had responded to an ad for an on-air position at Citadel Broadcasting, had a great interview, and then nothing. After several un-returned phone calls to the PD who hired me, I gave up and started working for the Salvation Army. I was the social services director. It was a thankless job, but I know I did a lot of good during the time I was there. In fact, if it weren't for Francesca, my life would probably be very different.



Francesca came into the Salvation Army with a story very different from all the other people I had helped. She actually WANTED to do better for herself. She didn't want a hand-out. She just wanted some help getting back on her feet. As the social services director, I wrote her a check from the Salvation Army to pay for some training she needed so she could get a job in construction, a field where she had some limited experience. Well, she took that test and she scored a perfect score. The only problem was - she didn't have any steel toed boots to go to work in. The Salvation Army couldn't help her anymore. There was some policy that said she had to wait 30 days for another "hand out." Thing is, I knew this girl really was serious about doing better for herself. So I went to Wal-Mart that night and bought her a pair of steel-toed boots in her size. She came in the next day and I gave them to her. 

I didn't hear from Francesca for a couple of weeks, but when she came back to the Salvation Army the next time rather than asking me for something, she brought me something. She gave me a coupon for a free coffee at the Starlight Espresso Cafe. Now, that may not seem like a big deal, but the story behind it is amazing. She told me how, at her church on Mother's Day (just a few days before), the pastor's wife spoke about what a mom is. She heard that a mom doesn't have to be someone who gives birth to you, but someone who takes care of you -- someone who puts your best interests first -- someone who loves you as you are. This pastor's wife then instructed everyone in attendance to take the coupon that was in their bulletin and give it to someone who was a "mom" to them -- maybe their birth mother, maybe not. Francesca gave her coupon to me.

I got my free coffee, but I also decided to visit this church. Household of Faith became my home church after that, and is the place I credit for helping me grow and mature as a Christian. It's the place where I fell in love with Jesus all over again, and the place where my entire family was baptized together on September 1, 2002.

I began praying that God would get me out of the Salvation Army and back into a job that I loved -- something in radio. 

One afternoon I called Citadel Broadcasting to ask if they would run a PSA for the Salvation Army. I got to talking with the guy on the phone. During our conversation I learned the PD who had interviewed me was no longer with the company. I told this guy on the phone that I really wanted to come work there, so he told me to bring him a demo as soon as possible. I drove it over that afternoon and was hired almost immediately. (A total God thing.)

(In case you're not following -- Francesca got me back into church, where I started redeveloping my relationship with Christ. It was only then that I was able to get a job doing what I loved.)

While I was working at this radio job, I became friends with Stephanie. There was a lot of turn-over at this radio station, so while I really loved the guy who ended up hiring me, he was moved to a different department shortly after I arrived and was no longer my direct boss. Bummer. Stephanie and I grew close and I invited her to church with me. She and her boyfriend Chad fell in love with it too, and began attending regularly. 



Skip ahead to 2004. We move to Florida. I don't know if I never got Stephanie's email address when we moved or what happened exactly, but we didn't keep in touch.



This past Sunday we visited Household of Faith for the first time since we left. It was as if we'd never moved. Sure, there were a lot of new and different faces, but there were a few familiar ones too. It was SO good to see Pastor Scott and Vanessa. Hearing Michael lead worship was INCREDIBLE! And running into Stephanie and Chad was unexpected. I guess I didn't figure they'd still be going to church there, but they were...and we were able to spend some quality time with them tonight.

I've probably written this blog more for my benefit than for a reader's, but I guess all this has made me realize that we play roles in people's lives sometimes that we never ever realize the full effect of. 

Francesca came into the Salvation Army for help, but ended up bring me more than I ever could have given her. It won't be until I meet her in heaven one day that she'll ever know what a difference that day made to me. I don't remember her last name. I don't know whatever happened to her. But it was because of her that I went to Household of Faith. It was because of Household of Faith that I renewed my relationship with Christ. It was because of that I got back into radio. It was because of that Stephanie became my friend. It was because of that she is now at Household of Faith and is actively serving (so is Chad). After leaving HOF, Marso and I helped start two churches.

I'm telling you all this to say that *YOU* have no idea the influence you have on someone. You have no idea the difference you can make in someone's life. In fact, Francesca not only made a difference in MY life, she made a difference in the lives of anyone affected by my going to HOF or in the lives of anyone affected by my helping to plant two churches in Florida.



So thank you Francesca.

Every year I make a New Year's Resolution, and every year I break it. It usually goes something like this ...
This year I will lose weight. This year I will exercise more. This year I will eat healthier. This year I will wear a size (fill in the blank).



However, this year I decided not to do that to myself again. You see, I'm an "all or nothing" kind of girl. And I'm anal retentive. I can't start my diet on a Tuesday. It has to be a Monday or nothing. And if I wake up Monday morning and forget I was starting my diet that morning -- and maybe I eat a bowl of sugared cereal, or I skip breakfast altogether and overeat for lunch ... well, then I have to start NEXT Monday. And I have to keep a notebook. I have to write down everything I eat and everything I am doing. And if I forget a day, I have to start over. Yeah. Pretty freakin' ridiculous, isn't it?



So this year I have decided not to do that to myself. This year I am going to just allow myself to live life and enjoy it. I'm not saying I'm not concerned about my health, but I'm not going to kill myself to meet a specific goal. I'm going to take baby steps and I'm going to see what happens. I guess that means I resolve that this year I will not resolve anything.



Cheers!