i may have to modify my work ethics once i transfer stores.

although maybe i'm not transferring stores at all. somebody that i met off of nerve before chris has been talking me up to some recruting chick at a place called rotary international. not for profit, they are, which makes me wonder how i'm going to become a multi-billionaire working for a company that isn't, well, all about profits. i'm trying to do the math. i've never been good at math, though. like when customers ask me how much everything is going to cost them, i kind of stand around and stare off into space for a good five minutes, moving my fingers back and forth and tilting my head first right and then left before responding, "tell you what. let me put it into the computer, give you a price, and then you can decide."

"can't you just tell me the price right now?"

"no, not really."

i think i'm going to feel kind of bad if i do get this job at rotary international, seeing as how this guy was interested in dating me before. maybe, in return for employment, i can set him up with one of my single friends. except i don't really have any. so maybe i can just send him a potted plant or arrange for a donation to some kick ass charity, like hats for fat people, in his name. and then instead of writing out the check for hats for fat people, i'll just keep the money for myself and no one will really know. yeah, that will be a lot cheaper than a potted plant. besides, plants tend to die. and how much money am i going to be making anyhow- remember, this is not for profit. and that goes against every core belief i have.

i'm a hell of a humanitarian.

he's a people people person. i think he thinks i'm a people person. i guess i can be a people person, but i'd also like to think i'm a people people person as well, or maybe just a person. i can get sick of people people and even people people people but after i'm alone for about 5 hours, i find that i need to go scope out some people. people people, usually, although people people can monopolize the conversation, which is only fun for one person, not two persons. i hope i don't ever monopolize the conversation too much; of which, speaking, i find a conversation is at its balanced best between two people people persons, or, hell, even one people person (who has the right idea about what it means to be a people person and knows the proper way to engage others who are more people people people than people people) and a people people person.

the more i write "people," the more it looks like i'm spelling it wrong. what was my point in the first place? my favorite cereal is cinnamon toast crunch, and my morning routine when i'm at home includes about 2 hours of comedy central. could i ever be a stand up comedian? doubtful- those are REAL people people. not like me.

i haven't gone to work hungover in quite some time now. this morning, i woke up and had to ask myself what month it was. last night, i went to a club and did my usual disappearing act, because, you know, i like to go out with friends but i don't actually like to *hang* out with friends. so i found myself in the vip room. apparently it was some guy named larry's birthday. i parked myself in a chair and somebody asked, "how do you know larry?" i said, "i don't. but i've been looking for a chair for fifteen minutes now, and i'll be damned if i'm going to get up and leave."

i was later introduced to larry. he was nice.

i certainly don't miss going out for such nights. bars, clubs- the whole point is to meet someone cute. and i have someone cute. so there really was no point. at least i found the chair.

so the big gossip is that this girl used to work with me a couple of years ago at lenscrafters. and now she's chasing mr. firestone. i really hope she loses; i never liked her due to the fact that she was a vain, stupid, snot-faced bitch. or maybe i hope she does win- i suppose it doesn't quite matter.

her occupation now? child life specialist. bet you anything she's a baby-sitter.

here's a favorite favorite- mold-a-rama.

so my idea. christmas in july. i've never actually thrown a party as i've never really had a space in which to have one- but i think christmas in july will be a great idea for a "mixer" party thrown at the new apartment once we're all moved in and settled. i can invite the few friends i still have left over from around here along with chris, jordan, and ocean's gang, and we can all drink egg-nog, maybe have my favorite holiday movie ('mixed nuts') playing in the background, of course i'll put up lights (but probably not a tree, let's not get stupid).... bill offered to dress up as santa and suggested a white elephant grab-bag. and, you know, other such holiday stuff. i think it's the best idea i've ever had, after that other good idea i had.... which ended in misfortune, so let's not discuss it.

i'm a big, gigantic dork.

sometimes i get really upset with myself for no good reason. i worry a lot about annoying people, like by calling them or wanting to talk. i hear that calling people is really the worst thing one can do. at these times, i try to step back from myself and say, "what the fuck's your problem- dumbass?" of course people want to talk to me! why wouldn't they? i keep on asking.

anyhow, i've got my tie-dyed shirt soaking in the tub, staining the entire thing purple. great idea, having a tank top tie-dyed with lens tints. it looks cool, but will i ever get to wear it without my chest-al area becoming faintly tie-dyed as well? i suppose we'll all find out.

and these are a few of *my* favorite things:

anything free with purchase. novelty socks. hearty laughter. jesse white. postcards and keychains. apple scented lotions/ body sprays. sugar in the boat packets ("boat sugar"). personalized coffee mugs. the phrase "on it like blue bonnet." instant messaging. x-ray glasses. thrift store t-shirts. headstands. cosmopolitans. back scratchers. randomly hummed songs ("the rhythm is going to get you, the rhythm is going to..."). two dollar movies. seattle. belching. roller coasters. david sedaris and george carlin. oil pastels. the idea of camping but not the actual execution.

to be continued. more fun will be the list of things i *wish* were my favorite. but aren't. at all.

it's always so quiet here.

new home: rolling meadows. 1550 square feet. me and chris in the master bedroom, ocean and jordan duking it out to try and screw the other with the 10 x 11 foot bedroom. we still have to sign the lease, but everything looks pretty damn good. june 1, good-bye tinley park. i'm only going back for weddings and holidays. or possibly to steal cans of tuna from my mother's pantry.

the lady who showed us the apartment was a real nut job who kept repeating, "i'm normally not like this." yeah, sure you're not. i hate to admit this, but i couldn't stop looking at her ass; she'd squeezed a pretty sizable rump into very tight black spandex pants, and every time she turned around too quickly, i felt the need to jump back as to not get injured.

we looked at 4 1/2 apartments today. some of the apartments felt like resorts, what with the weight rooms and the "planned activities." "we all celebrated mardi gras together; it was a real blast. and on tuesdays we give cooking lessons." i can't see myself participating in events arranged by the management of an apartment complex. if i did go, i'd feel the need to explain myself to everyone else involved. "i'm not really a loser; it's just that... my car broke down... and i can't get to anywhere else... hey, pass the spinach dip."

spinach dip. what a good idea.

feeling a little lightheaded. keep thinking of the phrase "anal canal" only pronouncing "canal" so that it rhymes with "anal." go ahead- try it out. anal cane-al.

also- keep listening to that damn voicemail left by my teacher. "everyone loved your story. you were going to be in the national contest.... such a shame you're no longer a student."

i'm an idiot.

oh, well. it wasn't my best story anyways. so there's still hope that fame, riches, and personal satisfaction may one day still await. i guess i'll put this pistol away and try to think happy thoughts. at least it's a good hair day.

tom didn't know what a hymen was. i'm about to explain when a customer walks in, and tom, not seeing the customer, says, "so where exactly is this hymen located?"

i swear sometimes.

i won a writing contest. my story was about a talking bear and an alcoholic. real literary genius at work over here, let me tell you. anyhow, i won $500 or something. but the thing is, i dropped the class at the school hosting the contest... and now i don't get squat. the teacher called to say my prize was going elsewhere. fuck everyone and their mother. it just figures.

at least i won something. in theory.

i went to the vfw tonight for dollar beers. it's just fun to say i went to the vfw. did not, however, talk to any actual vets.

sitting outside a few minutes ago, i noticed etchings on one of the posts of our deck, which has a lot of posts for not having much of a roof. these etchings mark the height of marcia and myself starting from 1987, the first summer we lived here, and continuing, on my side of the post at least, until 1997, when i turned 17 and would most certainly not be getting any taller. looking at this post, i felt kind of sad, remembering how my dad used to call us outside on boring summer afternoons to mark how much we'd grown in the past 12 months. my sadness came mostly from the assumption that my dad himself must get sad whenever he notices this post. so, yes, he sees this post every once in a while, feels a little heartbroken from the memory of two little girls that he had so much love and hope for, and then proceeds to come inside and start yelling about how i need to find a goddamn job already and, hey, is that alcohol on my breath?

i get sad at times for no good reason. i get deliriously happy at other times, for no good reason. and on yet other occasions, i find myself speaking in tongues and spinning my head around on its neck while my pupils dilate and shrink, dilate and shrink. then i turn to the person sitting next to me on the train and say, "excuse me, i don't know what's come over me! hey, would you mind lending me a few bucks for my ticket? and then another few bucks for a corn dog?"

i grew half a foot between '91 and '92. but since '97, it looks like i've gone down a few inches. strange.

last night, my own dream was not unlike an episode of "crime scene investigators," or "csi" as the kids like to call it, in which i was thoroughly investigating various undisclosed crime scenes. i'd walk into whatever place needed checking out, waving my arms around and kind of slinking back and forth between the murder weapon lying on the carpeting and the refrigerator stocked with buckets of chicken and biscuits (mmm, love affair with butter) and repeatedly assure everyone that all was "under control-" or "uc" as the kids like to call it. between bites of chicken (and biscuits), of course.

it was easy being a detective. i kept getting barbeque sauce all over the evidence, but i did a great job of swabbing my q-tips against everything, including the tips of the ceiling fan blades, as to be able to say, "i did a great fucking job, you ass. didn't you see me using the q-tips?" in the end, i did not actually solve the crime, although i have a sneaking suspicion it was colonel mustard in the den with the flashlight. at least i got paid; i drove off in the yacht parked in the driveway right into a waiting sea of what appeared to be ecto cooler.

i feel like going swimming. i've never cared much for swimming because of the whole contact lens thing, the whole having to wear a bathing suit thing, the whole "i once dove off a diving board and hit my face on the floor of the deep end" thing, the whole "anyone could be urinating at any given time" thing, the whole "exercise is for assholes" thing- but man would it be nice to do a few laps, maybe get someone to blow up an inner tube for me, buy me a fruit drink, fetch my sunglasses, rub sunscreen all over my shoulders and arms and legs...

okay, i don't think this is about swimming anymore.

i'm eating lamb and watching "sleepless in seattle." for the last ten minutes, i've been thinking about bambi. it took me this full 10 minutes to realize bambi would be venison, not lamb. all these cute animals confuse me. so now i'm going to stop thinking about bambi and start thinking about ariel. oh, wait- ariel was a mermaid.

i can't watch "sleepless in seattle" anymore, despite my deep love affair with butter. i mean, seattle. it's on the turner classic movie station- when did "sleepless in seattle" become a classic? and when did i start watching the turner classic movie channel? and why is this movie making me think of chris? he's never even been to seattle. and he doesn't have the turner classic movie channel. or any channel, for that matter. i wonder how chris feels about venison. lamb, even.

i'm moving in june regardless of what everyone else does. except for chris, i may have to take him into consideration.

"when harry met sally" is next. i absolutely cannot stay within the vicinity of this tv set. it's a good thing that one doesn't take place in the pacific northwest. then i'd be screwed. as it is, i'm going to find another cartoonly adorable animal to devour and then find something of ultra-importance to take care of. such as that peace treaty i've been drafting. or the finishing touches of that bionic limb.

so i went ahead and linked to this dude dax's blog despite not knowing him. but, alas, i couldn't help myself. that's some funny shit, and funny shit deserves to be read, or at least linked to. if i'm overstepping any boundaries or invading anyone's privacy, then i'll go ahead and fuck off. but until then, the link is up.

i've got nothing to say. last night, i won big at the academy awards. academy awards party, that is. i considered, briefly, giving an acceptance speech when brent handed me the gift certificate to the movie theater, but, really, i don't have that many people to thank. "i did this all myself, without any help, and certainly without the grace of god or the support of my parents. in fact, all 3 were actually rooting against me on this glorious night of nights. but i showed them, and i shall continue to show them. why? because i'm awesome- and don't any of you forget it."

i will not be using my gift certificate to see "chicago."

after dropping mr. b back at the bbd after eating cfcb, i decided to waste some time by exploring arlington heights, as it will, in june, become if not my new home then one of the surrounding neighborhoods of my new home. i did some stalking of what will be my new place of employment, and then purchased a few small items, including coffee, cigarettes, and tampons before heading back to "el lovenest de chris."

in june, we're going to be living together... in sin. maybe i'll make him propose to propose to propose to me in may, just so that i can still go to church without being spit on by all of the other parishoners. not that i'm a big fan of going to church, but i'd like to know that i still have the option of going to bingo night should all other plans, including asphyxiating myself, fall through. but, yes. i'm quite eager to sign the lease for this apartment as it will be much like signing a lease to make sure chris doesn't dump me for at least another 12 months or so. because if he does, i'll have access to all of his clothes and computer stuff, which i will promptly set on fire or give away to needy orphans. not to mention all of the food i'll be able to tamper with. and, let's not forget, i once figured out a way to rig a toilet so that, upon being flushed, it promptly explodes.

ah, but i kid. it's actually more of an implosion.

chris first read my blog when i was in las vegas. that was a little over two months after we'd started dating, and so there was a good eight weeks worth of entries about how great chris was, how happy i was to have found him, how i wanted him to have if not my first born then at least a really nice houseplant or something, etc, etc. after he disclosed that he had read it, he said something along the lines of, "now that i'm reading your blog, you're probably not going to rave about me as much." i said, "i'll always rave about you." but, yeah, i can't rave about him as much anymore. it just doesn't sit well with me. i can, however, admit a few things. i can't wait to live with him. i love every minute i get to spend with him. and contrary to what he may believe, there really is no one else quite like him.

well, there are a few people like him. but they're all already taken.

man, do i crack myself up.

refusing to be one-upped, i now have comments (shouts out, if you will) on my blog. so for all 3 of you that read this- um, yeah.

this is one shitty template. i rather like it.

reminder: as per our bowling bet, mitch will have to give his first born the middle name of "fahranheit."

here i am in chris' apartment, waiting for my hair to dry, my phone to ring, and my cramps to stop. oh, the trials and tribulations of being a woman.

reminder: always be thankful for cramps.

strolling along past the starbucks, i look in and see a girl- erin- i recognize from high school. as is my instinct, i look away and keep walking. of course, she comes running out, calling my full name and everything. i turn around and stare blankly at her for a calculated second, then say, "erin? erin!"

much like discussing war, i try to avoid these pointless little conversations with people who i once sat behind in an english class and never really talked to in the first place anyhow. we were never friends. our word count over those entire four years was probably well under fifty, seventy-five tops. and now we have to "catch up" like she was once the surrogate mother for my first born son? like i had once saved her family from a burning house, delivering cpr to her grandfather and everything? i don't think so. we stood out there for a few moments while we traded basic demographic information- where are you living, what school did you go to, what's your present occupation- and then i made like tom and cruised, wondering if maybe i'd have more friends if i wasn't such a stone-hearted bitch.

nah, doubtful.

when my high school reunion rolls around, i'm going to find myself a bar stool and a trivia box. unless i'm single and desperate; then i'll go back and see if any of my old crushes are single and desperate as well. ah, good times.

blah, blah, blah. blah. blah? blah blah!

so i'd love to write some long and involved entry on the war, but we here at jackie and co. go out of our collective way to avoid dealing with any news and/or information that might be unsettling or troublesome to think about. understatement of the year on both accounts.

war is dumb. people are going to die. i hope not a lot of people die. i hope the war is short. and i hope no one tries to talk to me about this.

Actual listing in the TV section of the Marin (CA) Independent-Journal:

Movie "The Wizard of Oz": Transported to a surreal landscape, a young girl kills the first woman she meets, then teams up with three complete strangers to kill again.

oh my god.

lebowski fest.

i'm requesting off work tomorrow.

i had a friend who used to say he hated nice weather because of all that pressure to go outside. sounded crazy, but i guess i get it.

i should be outside.

i can hear birds chirping. this is a good sign. spring is tied with autumn for my second favorite season following summer. if i had nuts, i'd tell winter to suck them.

i can't wait to go to work but only because i'm stopping for coffee and an egg and cheese croissant on the way. also because i'd like to leave this house and enjoy a cigarette.

my mother's having a sleepover next weekend with her 4 sisters because my dad's going out of town. this spells certain doom; 4 may be walking in, but surely only 2 will leave alive.

actually, it's summer, then spring, then autumn, then whatever else i can put in front of winter, then winter.

i got myself a hair cut tonight- no more ponytails for a while, that's for damn sure. the hairdresser did such a nice job of straightening and styling my hair that i didn't have the heart to tell her the truth when she asked if i had any special plans tonight. "it's my brother's birthday," i fibbed, imagining what this brother might look like. he'd probably be really handsome, good at spelling, appreciative of pottery. "we're all going downtown. to celebrate. this birthday."

now here i am at home. i'm considering getting someone to take a photo of me.

a lot of people asked today if i was going to the irish parade tomorrow. finally, to the 4th one, i snapped, "hey, do i *look* irish to you?" my tone may have been uncalled for, but ever since i was a kid, i've rather disliked st. patrick's day. teachers making you wear green, making you put "o" or "mc" in front of your last name for the day. i'm getting all tied into knots just thinking about it.

i said today, to tom, "i bet you're regretting that you were ever nice to me in the first place." i feel like i sometimes take advantage of poor tom with my long and frequent breaks, my flagrant disregard for his authority, my constant whining that i'm ready to go home, and the times i sometimes hide underneath the doctor's office's reception desk so that i can eat from my secret cache of french fries. not to mention, when heather's there, my productivity has to go down by at least 74%. we spend a lot of time practicing ice skating moves and stealing shopping carts from sears for purposes of carrying lunch up from the food court and rolling our personal effects around in. the best was when dr. maes came out from the breakroom one day on a busy sunday and said to our general manager- "do you know there's a shopping cart in front of the microwave?"

okay, maybe you had to be there.

sometimes i think about getting a job, in marketing, and being in charge of naming colors, like for j. crew or something. harbor blue. raspberry creme. spiced tea. starlit evening. gravel. aphid. artichoke heart. blooming baseball. bejeweled cloud. muck. but then i think about what kind of person that would make me, and i have to buy a shirt in wide-eyed canary just to make myself feel human again.

yesterday, chris and i were going to go look at apartments until he mentioned that he's still not sure whether or not his boss will want him (and pay him) to move out to california. everything's kind of on hold, i suppose, until he finds out. either way, i think we're living together- whether in nw suburbia with ocean and jordan or s california with ocean and sunshine. pacific ocean, that is.

it does not escape me how crazy this all is. 4 months ago, i did not even know him. now i'm willing to move across the country to be with him. it's no big secret how i feel about him, so we don't need to get into that.... but everything that has happened up to now and is going to continue to happen- it still amazes me.

today seems like a good morning. i slept extremely well last night, and my body almost doesn't know what to do with itself now. soon i go off to work to begin the task of avoiding work. but until then? i blog.

driving home this morning, i almost threw my cigarette into the automatic toll booth.

i almost lit my quarter.

i went to mcdonalds and ordered an egg mcmuffin, no meat, and recieved extra meat.

i cut my legs in the shower. i was shaving my legs so i could wear a skirt to work. now i'm not going to wear a skirt anymore, due to the band-aids. plus, what the hell do i need to wear a skirt for? because i want to? because every once in a while i get into a skirt-wearing kind of mood? because i like my legs? because i like the fact that others like my legs, too? this is more reason for me to wear pants. every day. for the rest of my life.

until it's time to wear shorts again. strangely enough, i like jeans but not khakis- but khaki shorts and not denim ones.

i dreamt that i was buying back-to-school supplies. trapper-keepers and pencil cases, the rubber erasers that i used to enjoy chewing on so much.

i'm thirsty. these pretzels- they're making me thirsty.

i love going to the dollar theater. only now it costs two dollars. this two dollars includes the village of tinley park's "amusement" tax. i wonder, if i don't really enjoy my two dollar movie, can i get that tax percentage back? and if i've ever amused anyone else, like by telling a good joke or falling on my butt while trying to open my car door, can i claim that on my own taxes and use it to up my refund? if only i had a good accountant who could answer all these questions for me. as it is, i have to lay awake at night wondering. wondering. wondering.

i love seattle. i love movies that take place in seattle, even if they're bad movies. but, for two dollars, there really is no such thing as a bad movie. bad becomes halfway decent. and good movies? at two dollars, they're downright orgasmic.

you may ask why i would choose to name my blog after one of the most derogatory songs ever. i may be glad you asked, because no one else ever has. they ask what "under my thumb" is from, but then the conversation often turns to other topics, such as the time i had scarlet fever and then got yelled at for taking all the frozen vegetables into bed with me. i'm sorry, but who has time to make an ice pack? it's not like the packaged peas were going to become infected or anything, and, besides, the label gave me something to read. anyhow, i'll let my dad field this one.

"i've been a fan of the rolling stones for a lot longer than my daughter has. this is because i'm a lot older. i can tell you story after story about the good old days when packaged peas cost significantly less. anyhow, one day my lovely, intelligent, amazingly gifted and kind-hearted daughter jackie and i were sitting around the living room listening to her recently acquired stones' cd. i think she may have been having a moment of sorts, because she turned to me and said, 'i think this song could be interpreted several ways.' she had to repeat herself a few times because i wasn't listening, too busy reliving somebody else's glory days involving a football team i was never on. but then she said, 'i think this could be a girl talking to herself, like she's finally got parts of herself under control.' i said, 'yeah, is that what you think?' she said, 'no, not really. but i'm looking for something to name my blog, and i think 'under my thumb' has a really cool sound to it.' then she logged on to the computer. i'd been suspecting that for some time she was using it as a dating tool, trying to meet guys. for christmas, she confirmed my suspicions and brought home that lovely, intelligent, amazingly gifted and kind-hearted boy chris. i really like that guy. he's half italian, you know, and i for one hope he's around for a long, long time."

thanks, dad.

other favorite stones' songs include "wild horses," "ruby tuesday," and "angie." i have an especially good story about "angie." maybe i'll get my dad to tell us that one a little later when he's not so busy watching cnbc.

i may have to rethink this whole blog thing. but first i'm going to have some coffee and about 2/3 of a bagel.

syntax error. fucking hell. if anyone, ahem, wants to fix this for me, my new username is ferclyn. you already know the password.

i've put forth a lot of effort to switch around my blog url and whatnot. i really screwed up a good thing, because now i have the aforementioned syntax error. perhaps i didn't think things through? sometimes i get carried away for no good reason.

i've had a fight with a friend, and i'm not dealing with the good-bye all that well. dan, if you're on this page, you must have done some detective work, going to chris' blog or something. stay away from my boyfriend's blog, goddammit. and especially stay away from mine. it's not fair; you can't tell me that you don't want to be friends anymore but then still want to know what's going on in my life.
i simply won't have it.

it's hard, ending things like this with you. i feel like i'm losing a brother. i know we've drifted pretty badly, but i never once thought we'd stop being friends altogether, and thinking about this hurts.

i'm going to miss you. i wish things hadn't turned out like this, but i suppose we made good use of our time together. you're a huge part of who i am, and i'm always going to think about you and hope that you're doing what is making you happy.

now let it be. please don't come back here.

with the creation of every new blog comes the deletion of an old one. i think aesop wrote something along those lines.

testing