The First Amendment Only Applies

. . . .when you don't have a harassing stalker. . . . .

Texaconsin Diva is going private, if you want in, you've got to ask, but you must also tell who you are (send your blog link, state your name and/or send money - I always accept dinero. Duh):

jenjlu007@gmail.com

Long Time Coming & Then Some Part Deux

Aaaaand another from thy Princess of the Universe:

Numero Deux: I am totally DYING to meet you - what would you do with me if I just showed up on your doorstep one day and announced I was there for a week?

Princess!  Do not give me such tachycardia!  Not that I wouldn't love to have you come to my awesome Longhorn City and stay with the husband & I.  We heart company.  We also heart entertaining.  We do.  But. . . just showing up.  Ahhck.  Well, it wouldn't normally be a problem if my house weren't such a mess on a consistent basis.  Four dogs does not make a clean house. Like, ever.  

Anyhow, having a slight mess is not an answer to your question.  Thus, to comply with the interview question, here is what I would do: 

I'd take you on a 14-mile run.  18 if you're on best behavior.  

I'd then toss you into an ice bath.  

I will be looking forward to your pink princessy knock on my front door.  Soon, I hope!  

But don't think we're finished with our fun, fun, fun!  Oh we're so not!  Because the husbands and my Longhorn City is so close to one of your favorites - and really, this should be many, many peoples favorites - we will go on a search to hunt this one down.  What happens when we do find him is up to you.   Remember, what happens in Longhorn City, stays in Longhorn City.  

Unless I blog about it.  [But I wouldn't do that. . . Really.  I wouldn't.  Pffft.  Have faith.]  

Furthermore.  I'd also have to take you here.  Loads of sparkly princessy goodies to be had  in this place.  I can even buy prettiness here due to hypo-allergenicness.  In fact, the husband originally bought my engagement bling here and continues to do so.  It's an original Texas craftsmanship one cannot come to Texas and not visit this store.  

We can show off what we've found, jewelry and Ackles at the oldest zoo in Tejas.  I know, it's a zoo, but it is beautiful and the animals are treated very humanely here.  Sometimes zoo's are a necessary evil.  This one is a great one.  Trust me.   The animals are awesome.  

When you finally arrive on my doorstep, don't forget your appetite.  Texas has great food and loads of it!  Barbecue, Tex-Mex, Chili, down-home and fine dining.  If you crave it, we have it with a bit of Texas flair added in.  In fact, we have cook-offs, fry-offs, festivals, jamboree and many, many food celebrations including Turkey trots, watermelon thumps and peach jamborees.  If you're adventurous you can even enter into a jalapeno eating contest.  But I'll leave that one to you and you alone.  

But if you do that, you will need a pair of these so you can kick a cockroach to the corner.  Or just wear them to the Stockyards.  I swore I'd never buy a pair, but last year I broke that swear.  I'm glad I did.  Cowboy boots are the most comfortable item you can put on your feet.  I have yet to buy an actual Stetson, but truly I don't see that happening.  Maybe the big-a** belt buckle, but not the hat.  

I'd also cook for you.  Anything you wanted.  Ask and you shall receive.  I might even make a party out of it, so you can meet other fabulous Longhorn City people.  Did I mention, we love to entertain?  

Princess, there are so many goodies here in my Longhorn City that I couldn't practically link them all.  And I'd bore everyone.  There's museums, boutiques, water art, trails, hiking, dancing, biking, horseback riding, shopping, food, drink, glittery sparkly's, etc., etc., etc.  Just come and you'll find out for yourself.  

Then, you can blog about it.  

Oh.  Right. You'd have to give Jensen back when you're done here.  Okay?  

When Vultures Drop Dead, It May Be Time To Wonder

The husband said it would be tough; maybe even distressing.  Well. . . those weren't quite the words he used, but suffice it to say he more or less said it would be agonizing.  And that did make me take a slight pause.  

Of course, I ignored it and forged valiantly onward, but only because I'm sick and twisted.    

When it comes down to it, I have to say, once again, the husband's uncanny ability to be right about everything humanly possible (except when he says I'm not dying when I actually am), was exactly on target.  It was dreadfully awful.  And I'm demented.  

Adding 40-pounds of ice to my cold bath water so I could sit in it for 15-minutes is probably not going to be my claim to fame.  

For serious.  

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

Ooops. . . .I created confusion. Imagine that. So, I need to do a wee bit of clarification for all y'all.  The ice bath was agonizing.  I only ran a training run of 14-miles prior to that.   Currently, my leg muscles feel like a million-trillion euros, even if it seemed as if I was completely and utterly neekid in the subarctic Antarctica where only penguins survive for 15-minutes of my life.  

I did; however, wear a sweatshirt on my upper body.  No reason to completely torture myself. . . Right? 

When We Die We Are Nothing More Than Worm Meat

I have something that has really been on my mind.  A bother if you get down to it.  Thing is I can't seem to shake it.  

I cannot sort out what is more disgusting.  The fact that I am close to losing a toenail from not paying attention to length and long run training mileage or the fact of that little "flutter" I heard the other night during my real live nightmare of a $&%@'ing cockroach crawling across my head, were really its legs.  

Apparently, cockroach legs make a clicking sound when they walk.

Ugh.

Safety is Not Created in Numbers, Nor Anything Else

Holy mother-lovin' buckets.  I haven't posted in three weeks!  It doesn't seem like that long, but it is and I seriously apologize.  Thank you to those of you who reminded me I need to write something, even if it's crap. I'm not being sarcastic either - I've got a million and one blog ideas floating around the great abyss known as Jen's-Amazonian-Brain.  For serious.  I do.  I just need to find some time to get it from brain to keyboard to computer screen and finally to the great blog-o-sphere.  Suggestions on how to do this?  I mean, I'm not even a parent and I don't have time.  Gah.  

Anyhow, this one is about numbers and math.  I severely dislike both. Never been good at either.  Aside from the three weeks of neglect, take for example, that tomorrow in our Longhorn City at 9 AM we are supposed to be at 28-degrees Fahrenheit. However, yes that's a HUGE however, with the wind chill, it's going to feel like 17-degrees Fahrenheit.  Right now, I hear it's 2-degrees in Chicago.  So, no, I should not be complaining, but I still don't have to like it.  Tomorrow night is supposed to be record setting.  Of course, in the wrong direction - low 20's. . . I can't even think about it without my brain hurting.  Wait. . . I think something burst. . . erm. . . froze. . . anyone know a doctor? 

Ha!  

And to continue on my rant on horrible, irresponsible numbers, let's just say I've been running my arse off for the past few months.  Some of you may know this and some of you may not, but suffice it to say that while I've been run-eng and run-eng I noticed a slight change in being a lot less curvaceous.  Hurrah!  Finally.  Right?  Right!  Wrong!  NOT ON THE SCALE I DON'T. I weigh exactly the same as I did when I started this marathon training adventure.  So, so, so not fair.  It's been almost 3-months.  My minimum run is 5-miles and my long run is up to 12-miles. I run 4-5 times a week and throw in a low-impact cardio for good measure once per week.  I also watch what I eat. For real.  So, when does that atrocious, ugly, corrupt, villainous, malevolent, hateful, unpleasant, wicked, and heinously evil Beelzebub device formally known as the "scale" start recognizing my hard work?  

See?  I don't like numbers.  Never did.  Never will.  

The end. 

Why Cats Are Smarter Than Dogs

I'm preparing for a bomb of different sorts today and it is not due to the fact that it is the husbands birthday. . . . .  Nope.  It is not that.  One of the dogs got into the cupcakes from the kitchen counter during the night.  Chocolate peanut-butter fudge no less.  

So, somehow and in someway one of our four-legged furries will be giving them back.  And not in a good form either. 

Birthdays, dogs and cupcakes.  I'm not sure they entirely go well together.  Thank the gods that be they don't know how to get into the vodka and wine.  

Folly of Oracle Verbiage

I just listened to a Louisiana po-po on TV say, ". . . being investigated for 'homo-side'. . . ."

Not, "hom-uh-sahyd" as it is properly pronounced, but "homo-side."

I have to say, I understand the Cajun/Louisiana accent. I do. I have worked with plenty individuals from the state that, unfortunately, gets hit pretty regularly by some awfully strong hurricanes. It, fortunately, was and still is strongly influence by a mixture of 18th century French, Spanish and African cultures. Hence a strong linguistic accent.

But really, in this day and age, you ought to try and not commit word pronunciation homicide.

I'm just sayin'.

All The Running You Can Do To Keep The Same Place

Because my last post was so cool.

I now give you more geeky techno love:

No need to buy a separate GPS! A runner's, cyclists or any outdoor athlete's fitness dream. Powered by MapMyFitness - they had me at "hello" or maybe it was, "track your daily training data . . . ." Whatever the case may be, I was falling in love with a simple little gadget for my iPhone one more time this week. All the things I could do:

• Total Time
• Total Distance (in miles or kilometers)
• Pace (minutes per km/mile) or current speed
• Average Speed / Pace (km/mile)
• View your running maps directly on your iPhone
• Training Log including Distance, Calories Burned, Time, and Date
• Add Your Workout to Twitter
• And a partridge in a pear tree*
  

Imagine my excitement! I can instantaneously download and view my maps on the site or in Google Earth, post them on this here fantabulous blog (or website), email them to friends, or print them out for an event or group run, etc.

And, did I mention it was free? As in no charge for the application?! Blah, blah, blah. . . . Excitement. Excitement. Blah, blah, blah. . . .

So, I downloaded. I synced. I ran. Today. Close to 6-miles. With my GPS iMapMyRun turned on and in tow! While Britney Spears a cute little blonde's "Circus" new album was blaring in my ears. . . . . . . . (Huh? What? What's wrong? Motivation is key, m'kay?)

Anyway, an hour later, I doth return to plug in thy device from God Himself. . . . . . . . . . . . only to find that it didn't work.

What?!



It's supposed to be fab. It's also supposed to work. It couldn't possibly be the thing between the pavement and the iPhone, could it? Nah. Couldn't be. We'll see about next time. Stay tuned.



*No birds nor a tree are included. It's Christmas time folks, you think I'd honestly pass up getting some of your Scrooge McDoodge's undies in a bundle!

I Once Wanted to Become an Atheist, But I Gave Up - They Have No Holidays h. youngman

I thought to myself, "self you've never made a silk floral thingy maybe you ought to try." Besides, it's got to be cheaper than paying someone else to do it. So, I began to scheme. I also threw in a little bit of design. Then I went to purchase silk floral items list in hand. To which I found myself staring at a bill that was just under $3.1M . . . . .

Right. Great idea to make this festive holiday item myself. It took many hours, a phone call to a floral designer (thanks mom!), a few hot glue gun burns, 2 trips to the craft store and a somewhat pseudo hole permanently burnt into my pocketbook. This is the end result:

World's Most Expensive Wreath

It wasn't cheaper, it took loads of my hours, I physically hurt myself (melted glue is hot and I do not highly recommend you place it on your nail bed at the exact place nail meets skin) and I'm not sure the end result is even remotely pretty.

So, after showing the husband my triumphant national-debt-expense, he replied with some oh-la-la's and a kiss. Awesome man the husband is! Then, just I was about to hang it outside he mentioned, "I wonder how long it will take before someone steals it?" As people have been prone to do with our front yard pretty things. Gah.

I never said brilliance was my forte.

If I Had Only Known, I Would've Been a Locksmith

I swore I'd never write anything work related on this here blog of mine. However, I feel it deep in my inner most bones as my civic duty to edumicate thy masses. Besides, promises were meant to be broken so they tend to tell me.

Actually, I will not be ye so stoopid - I, at least, won't say where I work.

But I will say this, if you have found it absolutely necessary to do a heavy man encrusted workout before you walk into my room for any sort of therapeutic body massage, for the love of God, please, please, please shower. Rinse off your soaking wet, unpleasantly liquid-esq body that happens to be infused with a steeping sense of odor.

I solemnly swear to not touch the by-product of your apocrine glands.

Also, if you deem it fashionably chic to wear your fraternity boy boat shoes without the glory of your God-given right to wear socks, have the inclination, in the very least, to wash off your variety of saprotrophic micro-organism encrusted feet. I do not particularly like feeling as if I have stepped into a dermatophyte fungi convention even if you are not moldy. By the way, is your olfactory system out of order as well?

I solemnly swear to not touch your smellerella feet.

Finally, while I may view bodies close to being completely nekkid, it does not mean that I want to watch you get undressed. I am not in attendance at a "gentlemen's club" and I will not be throwing money into your tha-dank-ka-dank. So, I only ask that you wait to disrobe until I am safely out of the room with the door shut. It is imperative that you then climb under the top cover of the table sheet.

You are not the husband and I do not want nor need to see all of thee.



Legal Schmegaleese: You have been edumacated. This has been an exclusive public service announcement from your friendly Texaconsin Diva also known as Jen. Thank you. For more views on massage therapy - notice I am not a masseus by any measure or means necessary and I would greatly appreciate you not refering to me as such - please send in your written requests, comments, remarks or observations in the "comment" section of "Tales".

Elvis has left the building. At least until next time.

Life is Just One Damned Thing After Another elbert hubbard

My prevailing life in pictures:

Very studious.

This is what a notebook looks like when one
fails miserably on their practice exams.

Once you get over the shock and horror of my first attempts at genius-ness; try, if you will, to notice the re-takes on the bottom 1/2 of the page. Really,I'mnotaduncecapwearer. Promise!

Dinner table converted.

Yes, that was my dinner last night.

What?!
One cannot get more gourmet than Diet Mt. Dew and Craisons. Geesh.

Anyhow, that's me in three photographs.

For the past week, this has been my life sucking vampire and this is how it shall be for a bit. My dinner may change from time to time, because, truth be told, I don't really like soda (I know, blasphemy!) and I'd really rather have a glass of wine and a cupcake. But I don't have a cupcake. Wine is a different story, but the main focus here is to study. And that I am.

With that, I have successfully avoided studying for 28-minutes & 32.7-seconds. The devil is pulling me back.

I bid you adieu.

So You Think You're Einstein

I am studying.

That is all.

It Pays To Be Obvious, Especially if You Have a Reputation For Subtlety isaac asimov

Apparently, my reputation precedes me.

While in class today, my Advanced Business & Ethics instructor pointed out that if something you don't know how to handle happens, call . . . Jennifer . . . or at least she's going to call me. And then she laughed. Laughed. Semantics-schemantics: Jen's been there. Jen's done that. My classmate had to immediately chime in, "that's no joke ya'll! I just called her yesterday!"

I don't think that is necessarily a good thing.

I told all ya'll that if weird schutff is going to happen, it's going to happen to me. All you have to do is just read this here blog. This leads me to wonder, why am I such a sheet magnet?

Justifications appreciated.

Top 10 Reasons Texaconsin Diva Has Been A Missin'

10. School + internship = 'nough said.

9. Backbreaking yard work with the husband. Butitlooksreally,reallypretty!

8. Cleaning up after Dixie. ***sigh*** But I still loves her so.

7. Thinking I'm 23 (I am NOT almost 40 - shoish!) and attempting a technical mountain bike trail route after not doing so for over TEN YEARS(!) I. Thought. I. Was. Going. To. Die. I'mnotkidding&I'mnotadramaqueen. I was scared shepoopi.

6. Going to massive amounts of the husbands bike racing races. He done good though.

5. Talking the husband into taking a scalpel to my arm to remove a thorn from one of the many mountain bike crashes I gracefully experienced on the "day-I-thought-I-was-going-to-die".4. Massive amounts of sleep from a thing called exhaustion.

3. Obtaining a very nice palatable entity called, "whiplash" when my instructor quack chiropractor decided that he could help my tension headache by cracking aligning my neck. Chiropractorsarenotdoctors.

2. Spraining my right 5th metatarsophalangeal (read: little toe joint) - twice. That was nice.

. . . . . .and the number 1 reason, I hasn't been blogging . . . . .

I've got nothing to say. For serious. The grey matter has leaked from my brain and out my ear. I no longer know how to form word patterns that include grammatical correctness'. Or there abouts.

When All Else Fails, Read the Directions

So.

Mr. Gecko-Lizard-From-the-Wondrous-&-Deadly-Outdoors:

For four(4)-weeks I completely loved and protected you; gave you shelter in our home. Even while many a dog sought and found you. Include the wily cats whom also hunted and located your green leetol bum. I would pick you up and place you on higher ground. Always. I then banished my kitty to a separate room - for weeks. All in the name of safety for Mr. Gecko who found his way from outside inside.

I made sure you had fresh bugs for lively gourmet meals. I thought this was our unsigned agreement: you eat the indoor insects and I made sure that no one stepped on you. I also made sure to find you each and every day to be sure you were still alive and kicking. If I could not locate your scaly arse, I was deeply saddened - ask the husband, I was. I hadn't called the pest control man for fear of killing you with all things fumy. I did not mind you staring at me as I typed on my computer. If you fell, I gently picked you up. I cleaned your poo - and I have enough of that currently going on to last the rest of my life, believe me. I vacuumed up your shredded shedded skin. I found you heat and water. I let you sleep in my family room throw.

The husband helped sustain your life as well. He was like a pro-wrestler keeping the dogs at bay. Without us, you would have been bird food by the second week of your birth. For serious.

Yesterday, I almost stepped on you - curses to you and your chameleon-like ways. Obviously, this meant you were on the floor. So, again, I bent down to protect you from the hounds-of-hell - - - jaws that were just waiting for a good chomp of you. You were a bit squirrely as you had not had your coffee for the day either, but I managed to get you up off to higher ground. I then ever so tenderheartedly put you down. . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . where you promptly turned and unnecessarily bit my finger. Hard. Unflinchingly hard. You suddenly and unbelievably had a sustained spasm of your masseter muscle. I didn't even know geckos had such a thing, but you were strong, let me tell you. I could not get you to LET GO of my precious and, might I add, cute finger. For 5-minutes I pried and pried; where I only to manage to shred my own finger. That was not cool, Mr. Gecko. Not cool at all.

And, that frackin' hurt.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . outside you go, you little b*st*rd.

Warmest Regards,
~Jen-who-used-to-trust-geckos-with-her-life-and-finger(s)

P.S. To any beastly-evil-spiders that may be reading this message: while I may be tolerant of almost any creature who dwells in my home, you best hope the husband finds you first, b/c I will squish you into a pile of spider mucus without thinking twice about it. I hold a doctrine that determines my race is superior to as well as has the right to rule yours. Eight-legged-freaks, I will have none of it. So, beware - there is no lifeguard on duty for you here. Unless, of course, it's the husband. He has taken pity on your souls.

Sarcasma

What would I rather be doing on this lovely Saturday other than . . . . cleaning. . . . ?

Hmpf. . . .





That's right, I'd rather be doing pretty much anything other than cleaning. I'm heading to the cat boxes as soon as I can let go of this keyboard. The husband is gone until late tonight. I'm bored. Making things spotless is not helping.


What are all ya'll doing today? Make me jealous.





***Though, as soon as I get the kitchen done, I am making my energy pancakes with fresh strawberries in a bright shiny new birfday gift I received from my awesome husband. Maybe I'll show pictures if ya'll are good. Maybe.

. . . Never Yield to The Apparently Overwhelming Might of The Enemy sir winston churchill

I am studying.



That is all.