Tag Archives: Jenny from the blog

Women Can Be Such Bitches|But Sometimes People Deserve It

woman-frustratedFun fact: This is an old post that I took down because I got so much flack for being such a horrible wife. Now, 3 years later, I’m over 40 and frankly don’t care if you people think I’m a horrible wife. Also, if I’m being honest, we all have our meltdowns and our horrible wife moments, if you don’t than you probably shouldn’t be at this particular site. PS you know who really thought this post was funny, my husband.

Hubby: “Jenny are you busy?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m writing.”

Hubby: “Listen, where is that car wash?  Next to the Ale House?

Me: “Yes.”

Hubby: “And where do I pull in?”

Me: “Like you’re going to the Ale House, but you turn into the wash instead.”

Annoying Hubby: “And which one do I buy?”

Me: “Whatever is most expensive.”

Hubby that is now like another one of my children: “And then what? Do they just hand you a ticket?”

Me frustrated: “Can’t you just go to a car wash like everyone else?  You get in the line and it will all be self explanatory.”

Hubby who doesn’t realize that I lost patience for inane questions years ago: “Because I can ask you.”

Me, done with this conversation: “I think you can handle it. People go there all the time and they often leave with a clean vehicle.”

Hubby who is now totally pushing it because my snideness is annoying him: “Why can’t you just answer me?”

Me trying to be witty and lighten the mood: “Look you only get so many questions per day; you must use them wiser.”

Hubby who does not find me amusing: “grunt.”

Me being an asshole: “Ok, you pull into the lane a man with broken English will ask you which wash you want and then he’ll point to a chart that describes your options in depth.  Get the one that costs the most.” (his car hasn’t been washed in like a year)

Hubby asking a question because he does still want info: “But not the one where they wax it right?”

Me still being an asshole, but making myself giggle: “No, just the highest of the standard, you don’t need it detailed.  Then he will hand you a ticket and point you to the register which is inside the mini-mart looking building.  There you will in turn hand the ticket to the lady who speaks English with a thick accent.  She will give you a receipt and she may also give you change. This occur if and only if, you do not give her the exact amount.  Then you will go to a waiting area and sit on a bench, providing there’s room.  You’ll want to avoid sitting on someone’s lap as it’s frowned upon.  You will send work emails or text from your phone until you see your car pull out.  You may also opt to read from your Amazon library or play Ruzzle the possibilities are endless. You will do this until another man, who speaks no English what-so-ever beckons, the owner of a car that looks like yours … your car.  As you are the owner of your car, you will hand him a tip, take the keys and return to me.”

My Husband is Cocky Stubborn and Relentless |What’s Wrong with Yours

We all have those little things that irk us about our spouses.  Some women tell me that their husbands are too involved in every little decision around the house, making buying a new chair harder than getting your toddler to try broccoli.  Some women tell me their spouse’s are so tight with money that they can’t buy a ribbed tank without a budget discussion.  Well, neither of those are Mark.  For the most part he’s hands off when it comes to decisions and purchases (yay for me).  No, mine is an obstinate man with a desire to do everything in the easiest quickest way… with little remorse to boot.

Yesterday while dropping my son at a friend’s house he decided to tailgate the guy in front of him to get through the guard gate.  G-d forbid he waits in the line like an average Joe.  No, he has places to go and people to see.  BTW I,  (nagging wife) have warned him that this habit would end in damage to his car.  To which he has assured me the gates will stay open for him.  I mean don’t they know who he is?!?  Hello?

Well, this gate’s bar didn’t get said memo and slammed down just in time for him to crash into it, leaving it hanging from it’s hinge.  Oh, that’ll show that ignorant bar.

Guard: Sir, could you please get out of the car, we need to write up a report and call the police.

Stubborn Husband:  For what? I used my sensor and it didn’t work.

Guard (authoritatively, as if he had turned down a job with the police force for this.): Sir, you tailgated the car before you in.

Mark: (Who is now fighting as if he actually believes his own bullshit.) No, your gate closed on my car.

Guard: Nooo, your car crashed into my gate.

(I imagine this went on a bit like a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups commercial:  You got your chocolate in my peanut butter.  Noooo you got your peanut butter on my chocolate.)

Well, it ended with my willful hubby refusing to get out of the car and defiantly driving through the gate to drop off my son, who was now crying about what was sure to be his daddy’s pending arrest.

Is he nuts?  Do rules not apply to him?  Why do men feel the need to fight (and win) every argument? This is why I spend much of my time Googling things.  ‘Cause my hubby is so freakin’ sure of anything that comes out of his own mouth.  He looks at himself the way people look at gossip mags.  He thinks, “If I say it… it must be true.”

Here are some of his doozy’s “No, you can’t get zits from dirty pillowcases Jenny, that’s insane.”  “Thanksgiving is ALWAYS on the 28th of November.”  “Ferngully (1992) was the first full length animated movie that wasn’t made by Disney.” What’s crazy is that somehow through unwavering tenacity he convinces other people to second guess what they know to be true… or he causes them to want to pull their hair out in frustration.  Either way, it’s a win for him.

What, you don’t believe me?  Case in point:   “This is the same man who talked a police officer out of giving him a ticket for driving in the HOV (high occupancy vehicle) lane through adamant denial that he had stopped the wrong car.  As Mark says, “I planted a kernel of doubt.”

Mark:  Why did you pull me over? Was I speeding?

Policeman:  No, You were in the HOV lane.

Mark:  What?  I think you have the wrong guy.

Policeman:  You’re what we call a jumper, you pull in and out and I watched you pull out.

Mark:  Yeah, that wasn’t me.  I’ve been in this lane the whole time.  It must have been another black car (accused hubby, as if the cop was car profiling.)

Policeman:  Nope, it was your black car.  I saw you with my own two eyes, plus I’ve got it on camera.

Mark:  Well, check it and you’ll see you’re wrong (said cocky husband banking that he wouldn’t). Haven’t you ever made a mistake? (He continued)

Policeman:  Oh, I have, but I didn’t this time.

Sweet Lovable Man O’Mine:  Well, with all due respect, that’s the thing about mistakes; it wouldn’t be a mistake if you knew you were making it.  (I know you’re jealous that he’s not yours right about now.)

Policeman:  With all due respect, I don’t need a vocabulary lesson.

After more arguing and the writing of a citation my brilliant husband walked out of  his car on the side of a highway and approached the policeman with ticket in hand saying thus:  “I’m just very uncomfortable with getting a ticket for something I didn’t do.”

The policeman (in what I imagine to be shock) looked him in the eye, swiped the ticket out of his hand and said, “I’m going to rip this ticket up because you are the most persistent  mother fucker I’ve ever run into.  Now don’t do it again!”

Lesson learned:  If you deny relentlessly, you will be rewarded!

So, you wanna know what happened with the guard gate?  Hubs returned to the scene of the crime to find the police waiting for him.  Oh, I wish I were kidding you.

Guard: Sir, this is property damage and we need to write up a report.

Mark:  Well, your gate was clearly not working as it didn’t read my sensor.

Guard:  Sir, you tailgated we have it on camera.

Mark:  Then you should check the footage.  You would see I was trying to use my sensor. (he seems to think checking the camera is a whole to-do or I assume he would stop suggesting people do it.)

Guard:  May, I see your sensor?

Mark then proceeded to take out the Liftmaster 2000 clicker that came with our house.  It’s kinda like someone asking for ID and you showing them your Blockbuster card.

Guard: (with policeman snickering in the background) Sir, you’re showing me a 1960’s style garage door opener… I can’t imagine that you got it confused with our sensor.

In the end, it cost him $250, and you know what?  It was worth every penny.   And trust me, I’d like to put those pennies towards groceries or school supplies or a pair of stilettos.

Me: (smugly avoiding saying ‘I told ya so’)  Well honey, did you learn anything today?

Mark:  Yeah, don’t tailgate at Weston Hills

I want my $250 back!

Feel free to share this with your friends, it’ll make them feel better! And follow the fun on Facebook!

BTW – it’s MARK WEEK here and on Facebook in honor of Mark and I making it to our 15th anniversary (almost) without one of us answering a lot of questions across the desk from a suspicious detective sitting in front of a two way mirror, I’ve been putting up some of my favorite MARK stories. 

(Note, he is usually annoying in them and always wrong, it’s not that he doesn’t do amazing thoughtful sweet stuff — it’s just that, that stuff isn’t funny.)

You May Like: I Can Be Such a Bitch, But Sometimes My Husband Deserves It (At least, that’s what I tell myself).

XO  -Jenny From the Blog

I May Have Run Over an Elderly Gentleman While Driving Carpool… Oops

This picture imlies that he was washing my car.  He in fact, was not, but I couldn't find a better picture of an elderly man near a car... MAKE DO.

This picture implies that he was washing my car. He in fact, was not, but I couldn’t find a better picture of an elderly man near a car… MAKE DO.

See how polite I’m being?  Calling him an elderly gentleman and not an old curmudgeon?  No, that would be rude and I am not rude.  Well, unless you consider running a poor old curmudgeon over with your car “rude.”  Then yes, I may be rude, but I have an excellent vocabulary and that has to count for something.

Well Judge, my infraction was merely that.  I was exceeding the limit by a minuscule measurement as my true intention was to get the minors in my vehicle to an establishment of learning to imbue their gray matter with knowledge.

My lady, (This is a Parliamentary court in the 1700s, obviously.) your grasp of the English language is truly inspirational.  Clearly, a logophile such as yourself could do no harm to our language, let alone an old curmudgeon.  NOT GUILTY!

(BTW:  A logophile is a lover of words and vocabulary, which I wouldn’t have to define for you if you were one.)

Moving on.  My neighborhood is fill with inconsiderate speeders during morning carpool.  Especially the first couple weeks!  Most of my neighbors have kids in elementary school and being that our development is exactly .1 miles short of the school bus cutoff; we’re all trying to get to the same place at the same time (anything shy of LATE).

The fact that this elderly gentleman was in this neighborhood in the first place leads me to believe that he wandered in from somewhere with a minimum age.  Regardless – as the busy moms sped around beeping from door to door, it was I that mowed this man down.  I must have been going at least 30MPH, which is fast in an area that has a sign. I don’t know if they’re just not quick or there’s something wrong, but there are enough of them to require a sign.

 

slow children at play sign 2

Frankly, someone should try and speed these kids up.  Maybe if they got rid of the knickers and padding reminiscent of a 1908 football game and gave out some bikes.  The sign could simply read:children at play(Let’s be honest, these tykes don’t look so speedy either.  Nor do they seem to have the latest in outdoor play equipment.  Razor anyone?)

But I digress.  The elderly gentleman in my story was not walking on the sidewalk, but on the street and going against traffic, no less.  He held up his arm in what I took to be a friendly hello.  I waved back, pretending to recognize him, as I do with all my neighbors.  Plus, he was pretty darn old, so maybe he thought he knew me. When I was about to pass him, he flung himself to the sidewalk as if narrowly escaping a careening boxcar.  I guess that wave was really the international, “Slow Down Crazy Lady” sign. 

Oops, I didn’t recognize it without the shaking of a cane, though he did seem a bit melodramatic.

old man yells at cloudI guess the main question is:  Did he pitch himself to the curb or did I send him hurling to the sidewalk?  I didn’t hear a thud; that’s always a good sign.  Though it’s hard to hear much over the din of 6 elementary schoolers trying to one up each other.

Kid 1: I have PE today.

Kid 2: Yeah, well I had it yesterday and 2 kids in my class got lice from sharing bike helmets.

Kid 3: Yeah, well 4 kids in my class got lice and I sit next to one of them… who also has braces.

Kid 4: I’m getting braces.

All other kids: Lucky!

Kid 5: Yeah, well I have glasses.

All other kids: No fair!

Kid 6: Well, I may have scoliosis!

All other kids: Why can’t we have scoliosis?! (creepily said in unison)

Me: Hey, could someone look under the car for an old man?

Me Answering Myself: Huh?  (I tend to answer myself in carpool, as no one pays attention to the driver.)

Still Me: Forget it.

Did I hit that elderly gentleman out for a morning walk?  I can’t say for sure. I didn’t see any wrinkly parts in my chassis. 

Wow, there’s a sentence that could be taken out of context!

Did I mean to run him over?  Certainly not.

Do I think he was being melodramatic?  A little bit.

Am I spraying out my car for lice?  Without question.

(PS no elderly people were harmed in the writing of this blog… I can’t say as much for lice)

xo

-Jenny From the Blog

The Best or Worst Ideas For Your Letters to Camp – Not Sure Which

tumbleweedDear Readers (Day 19 – 24 at Camp Lenox),

As we all know, the best ideas are generated during periods of total and utter boredom. Also, in the shower but there’s never anything to write with so, I imagine lots of great inventions are washed down the drain. Like time machines and renewable toxic waste…

Well, this is one of those brilliant ideas that I dreamed up and had the good fortune to get on paper. PHEW.

BTW, someone needs to invent a pad and pen that you can write with in the shower…

With the advent of camp emails and bunk notesit’s never been easier to keep in constant contact with your camper. Unfortunately, it’s you contacting them and not so much them contacting you. I should know, spending this summer at camp, I realize that my own great intentions to write letters were squashed by one of my other great intentions —  to enjoy camp. Yes, speaking in your camper’s defense, camp is tiring and non-stop, and like being on a constant roller coaster — the last thing anyone wants to do is screech all that fun/energy to a halt to write an update. Also, so much happens in a day that when anyone does sit down to write it’s almost daunting to try to recap, hence the one liners: “Camp is fun.”  

That said, I get the plight of the parent as well. Unless you’re rock climbing, getting up on water skis for the first time, tipping canoes, having bonfires, talent shows or raucous games of Name That Tune around the house, the whole we write you and get nothing in return is an oxymoronic phenomenon. Continue reading

Camp Phone Calls Could End My Marriage

Who knew the highly anticipated camp phone calls could be such a blow to a relationship? Oh well, when my baby is 1500 miles away from home, and I get a few minutes to talk — It’s every man, ahem mom, for herself!

Camp Phone Calls Could Ruin My Marriage #camp #sleepaway #humor

It’s sleepaway camp time and everyone is getting their calls from the kiddos. I’ve found a pattern, in that I desperately want to strangle my husband after each call. Luckily for me (and not so much my husband), I’m apparently not alone.

Look, us moms are ready. We’ve stayed up until the wee hours waiting for the pictures to download — sometimes hitting “refresh” every minute, (and by minute I mean second) as they download one at a time. We’ve studied them like highly trained CIA agents, analyzing their smiles, their friends, their body language. Continue reading

Dear Readers – Day 2 at Summer Camp – I’m the Newest Camper and the Biggest Loser

Dear Readers -

Day 2 at Camp Lenox with Jenny From the Bunk

me on first day

Please notice how I’m waving, but no one is looking in my direction… I know, I’m cool.

camp moms

Here are some of my Mom sorority sisters. You can see why I’m so intimidated, look at them being all judgy!

I’m pretty sure I’m a loser… I spent the morning picking up kids on the Westchester bus and watched as their parents waved until their hands nearly fell off. I tried to put them on a waving schedule, giving each bleary eyed parent a five-minute window to represent the other parents, as the departure was slowed by extra luggage and late arrivals, but they insisted on doing their own waving to show their level of commitment… A gesture lost on their kids, who were too busy reminiscing and meeting new people to look out the windows. As a longtime “waver” myself, I will suggest that next year they have a chiropractor on site or a ‘hand for hire’ to wave with one hand and hold a sign reading, “I’m waving to you Kayla because your mom loves you, but you’re taking too long to go and last year she acquired carpal tunnel.”

When we arrived at summer camp, Continue reading

How Old is Too Old to Play With Barbies – I’m Over Forty And Asking For a Friend

How Old is Too Old to Play With Barbie?As I’ve said in the past, I loved playing with Barbies growing up – LOVED. I’ve been open about this with Ry since her first Barbie doll at the age of, in utero. Some mamas sat with those belly headphones on, I slept with a Barbie standing in my belly button, which made rolling over really uncomfortable.

That said, about a month ago, Ry got this Barbie she really wanted as a reward for getting a vaccination. DO NOT judge me for that — You try telling a 9yo you’ll give her a measles or influenza or small pox free life in return for her to stop hyperventilating and see how that goes…)

My poor parenting tactics aside, Continue reading