I know I’ve been MIA for a long time now…and I’m sorry! I recently renewed my domain name, JenAndMen.com, (wouldn’t want any porn sites snatching it up), and now I’m back in business. I’m switching up my posts a bit. As you remember, I have a long-term boyfriend now, Mark. This means I won’t have my same crazy bad date stories, because I won’t be going on any bad dates lol (unless, of course, I catch him staring at a waitress’ boobs, or something, haha. Don’t worry, I’ll still have my super insightful views, funny anecdotes and, of course, my friends’ insane dating sagas. Keep reading, faithful readers!
Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I will spend my money on just about anything. I will not, however, give my local movie theater one more dime! Back in the day, when I was 15, movies cost $6! Now it’s $15 just to walk in the door! (Wow, I’m old.) God forbid if you want to see something in 3D!
This is why I bring my own snacks, ghetto-style, to the movies. I sneak in candy, drinks, and other treats. I used to bring water bottles or M&Ms, but now I’m daring with cans of soda and bags of Butterfingers minis.
When I proudly told my cousin about my deviousness, she said, “Candy and soda? You’re an amateur! I pop my own popcorn and bring it in a ziplock baggie!” Continue reading →
My friend Marissa is a little freckled Irish Promo Girl. That basically means that she goes to events, bars, clubs and liquor stores and talks up a particular alcohol to sell. Sometimes she’ll even give out samples and little give-aways.
A couple weeks ago, her boss asked her if she wanted to work a short shift on New Year’s Eve. Since it was double the pay, she decided to take it. When she got to the location, though, that’s when things started to get funny. Continue reading →
We all do it. Wake up, feel like crap, and decide, “Hey, it’ll be a great idea to forego makeup (if you’re a girl) and doing my hair (unisex decision) and go out looking like I feel.” Then, about twenty-eight seconds after making this lazy decision, we realize it may not have been our finest choice. Usually this realization comes from good-looking people throwing garbage at us.
There is nothing worse than someone insulting you (whether purposely or inadvertatly) right at the beginnig of a night that you thought you looked hot. The weekend of my birthday, one of my best friends, Alexa, took me to the Jersey Shore to celebrate.
I looked awesome. I had on a hot pink mini skirt that I’ve legitimately been waiting to wear for a full year. I threw a wife-beater and a belt with it, straightenend my hair, perfected my makeup, and put the final touch on my bithday ensemble: a tiny pink and crystal tiara that my mom had given me.
Magic Mike is the best thing to happen to me and my friends since Fifty Shades of Grey. We’ve dubbed this move the “best worst movie ever made in the history of the world.” Whoever had the INGENIOUS idea of getting five of the hottest guys on the face of the earth and putting them in a movie in which they had to remove their clothing and dance should be given a Nobel Peace Prize. As a matter of fact, I will personally present it to them if I can stop salivating long enough to stand on a stage and hand over the award.
Yes, everyone at Lucky Cheng’s last night, the lunatic in the hot pink/zebra dress was me. And, yes, I was giving a lap dance to a complete stranger on stage in front of a restaurant full of people at a transvestite cabaret. As you can see in the progression of events, I went from shy and afraid to wild and crazy in a matter of about ten seconds. What? I wanted to win the contest!
This past weekend, my girlfriends and I went out to Lucky Cheng’s to celebrate my 25th birthday. (I know, I know, I’m insanely old.) For those of you who are not familiar with this establishment, it is a restaurant/drag queen cabaret. Within five minutes of choosing between two drinks — the Pink Pussy and the Flaming Poon — we witnessed a lap dance that made even me blush.
Having a therapist is awesome. It’s someone that you literally pay to listen to you bitch and moan. But I think there’s something even better than therapy – and that’s having dessert with your girlfriends. When you get to be a certain age, and have a job, and a boyfriend, (and a blog), things tend to get a little busy. Every once in a while, though, you have get off your lazy ass and hang out with your friends, to blow off steam and bash the guys you’re dating.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s seeing someone that looks unbelievably familiar to me and not knowing where I know them from. Lately it’s been happening to me more and more. I feel like everywhere I go I run into someone I know. I mean, I know I’m famous, but this is getting crazy.
The other night I sat at the bar at The Hard Rock Cafe with my best friend, Kerry.
“Kerry, I know that man,” I said, looking at the bartender.
“I think he just has one of those faces,” she replied.
Has a friend ever made a comment about your life that was so dead-on that you were shocked you never came to the realization yourself? That happened to me this morning. Christine and I were having our morning phone conversation (aka me venting to her) and she turned around and came out with a statement that left me speechless (something that’s very hard to do).
“Every guy you date has some problem with you…and they have absolutely no issue with telling you what it is. And I can’t freaking stand it.”
Okay, so here’s where I am going to try and explain exactly why my birthday is more important than yours. I know it must seem crazy to hear at first, but it is in fact true, so bear with me. I am in no way saying that my significance on this earth is greater than any one of yours (well, maybe just…just kidding), but the day I celebrate my birthday each year, July 8th, is. And here’s why…
I count down to my birthday the way children count down to Christmas. On January 8th, I wish myself a Happy Half-Birthday, and proceed to tell everyone that I am 6 months away from my birthday. I then spend the next 6 months looking forward to the attention, gifts, dinners, and partying – all on my behalf. I know that’s hard for some of you to grasp, because I’m usually not the self-centered, attention-hog type For six years I worked as an Arts & Crafts and Theater teacher and used to make the children make me a crown and a sash in Arts & Crafts and sing Happy Birthday to me in Theater class. Since I am no longer teaching, my mom makes sure to buy me a little pink and rhinestone crown for the occasion.
A few days before my birthday a few years ago, I explained to my boyfriend-at-the-time, David, just why this day is the most special day of the year, along with why I should have nothing but happiness and helpfulness and good thoughts sent my way, not the fighting that was going on with my friends over which club we went to that weekend. I proceeded to justify my response by describing how other people we know (my family and friends) feel on their birthdays.
My cousin Diana and I wanted to have an extra pool day in Las Vegas, so we decided to catch an earlier flight than the rest of the members of bachelorette party we were going for. While we were there, however, the other girls got delayed TWELVE HOURS at JKF, leaving Diana and I to fend for ourselves.
First we sat by Trump’s pool and ate melon wrapped in proscuitto and drank mohitos and daquiris. Then we got dressed and headed over to The Venetian, where we took a gondola ride and had dinner. While at dinner, they dimmed the restaurant lights and a small symphony began playing (violins, a harp, the works).
In another hot-firemen-related post, yet one more dream of mine has become a reality. Last night, I went to the city with my friend Lana. While we were out eating, Lana’s friend Diana texted her that she was going to visit her new boyfriend at his FIREHOUSE — and wanted to know if we’d like to go. WOULD WE LIKE TO GO?!
Within minutes, we were in a cab headed to the other side of the city. We walked in and met Diana’s boyfriend and another fireman sitting on the front of the truck with him. Then we sat in the office (it was air conditioned) and I showed them my Jen Pose whenever I see a firetruck.
A life-long dream finally came true last week when I hung out with the FIREMEN FROM THE FIREMEN CALENDAR. No, no, you did not misread that my friends. I, Jennifer Alyssa, conversed and rubbed elbows with the 2013 picks for the FDNY calendar and, even more surprisingly, lived to tell the tale. How my heart didn’t stop on the spot is simply beyond me.
My friend Lana and I drove to a restaurant/bar called Fusion in Sheepshead Bay last Wednesday night to go to a charity event in which the firemen would sign calendars and donate the proceeds to charity. Now, I was supposed to be packing for my Vegas trip, but all I heard was the word “firemen” and I was there.