Friday, October 30, 2009

Guess What I Did Today?

Stuffed envelopes. Alllllll daaaay loooong. Then I addressed those envelopes BY HAND because I couldn't remember how to format the label maker in Excel and I was too prideful to ask someone how to do this simple task because then they would think to themselves "And we trust HER to process our payroll?? What has this company come to?! Dumb Blone (NO, they do not know her that I'm a bottle blonde...I expect you to keep it a secret). So I now have black ink all over my hand, a new paper cut and 4 hours of my precious time wasted.

Word to the wise. If you are going to release your admin., do it AFTER all the the envelopes are stuffed because guess what? She probably won't want to stay and help you out after she lost her job. Instead, she will go home and curse your name and your little dog too! (Not that I know this....it's simply hypothetical).

Thursday, October 29, 2009

I Need Pet Insurance


This is what $600 will get you at the Veterinarian.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Don't you want us to bond?



Mark's daughter, although only 10 has a lot more in common with her daddy's girlfriend than one would think. This is something we have discovered over the past year (my one year anniversary with them in Halloween). We both love Hannah Montanna, Sour Patch kids, shopping at Justice, using puppy-dog eyes to get whatever we want out of Mark, fake crying, pulling pranks, wrapping houses and PUPPIES!

I took Julia for a little girl time on Saturday afternoon, while the boys went to play a little football and decided we would go to my favorite place, The Pet Store. I thought I was bad about dogs, but Julia is way worse.

"Call Daddy and ask him if I can have this puppy", Julia said as I rolled my eyes and thought in your dreams girlfrand but tried anyways.

"DON'T YOU DARE BRING ANOTHER SMALL DOG INTO MY HOUSE", Mark told me, then texts me, then called me back to make sure I heard him clearly the first time.

My only advice to Julia was, "Well, maybe if you pretend like you still believe in Santa, you can ask him for it and then your dad will be trapped". She's contemplating it, but if you remember be 10, it's like sooooo last year to believe in Santa!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Washing my Mouth out with Soap

My brother says I have a dirty mouth and because of that he can't say that he agrees with my stance on the controversy below. (He's a pastor and I guess he can't say he agrees with me when I refer to a baby's milk provider as a t*tty). So, new goal...no dirty language! Keep me accountable! Grandmother, you have to wash my mouth out with soap the next time I say something Highly (not slightly) dirty on here!

Wize yous gotta be a Playa Hata?

Woo-hoo! Another "anonymous bashing session"!! Every time I get a new person tell me how rude, crude and sociably unacceptable I am through an anonymous comment it makes me want to jump out of my desk and do the Macarena.

Come on anonymous, what are you so afraid of? I mean I'm a nice gal; I would never punch you in the baby maker or kick you in the crotch with my new (and very expensive) pointy toed boots for your mean words. I embrace all opinions and comments, so long as they the commenter shows their face. You have a big problem with ignorant, self-righteous people like ME but what about you? See, that's the problem with YOU people. You have a problem with me and my political beliefs? Fine, so be it. I don't expect us to have the same opinion nor would I want that. It would make life boring. I don't think you are an idiot because you are an Obama fan...I am sure you reasons are just and well thought out. But, YOU with your strong beliefs and opinions are lacking the courage department. You remind me of the Lion in the Wizard of OZ. You may look tough and talk a big game while your walking along your yellow brick road or sitting all alone at midnight behind your computer screen eating bon-bons. But when it's time to show your face to the wizard (yes, I'm the wizard), you begin to shake in your boots. It's funny because I highly doubt you would have made the personal (not political) bashes about me if I knew who you were. I've played this game before and the last anonymous person that became exposed went back basically on every terrible thing she said about me the moment she was caught. I was a "great girl" with a "Godly heart" only after she publicly "Shamed me" if you will, once again all alone hidden by her computer screen.

Let's have a different opinion about Politics, hair color, religion and Jon and Kate Plus 8. But, the moment you make it personal is the moment I name you a coward. Besides, I'll take this as a complement because "Only people who are in the lead get kicked in the pants".

Monday, October 19, 2009

Breaking my Heart for What Breaks His

I'm going to be honest with you (not as if I'm not always painfully honest...haven't I told you I had to take a poop one time on here?). Since going through the "Big D" and I don't mean Dallas, I've had a gut wrentching fear that God has abadoned me. That I have failed so miserably, he has pushed me aside for more important buisness like oh I don't know...ruling over the Universe? Sunday school taught me growing up that I was so important to God that he knew every hair on my head. I remember being a kid and trying to see if I could count each individual strand. 1, 2, 3,...I would give up around 46. Although I would never know the number, I believed with all my heart that God did and it was enough.

This recent doubt was very new to me and I have had a hard time handling it. I have been RSVP'ing to my own pity party each and every week, never understanding why I haven't heard some great calling from God. It drives me freaking crazy when people say "God told me to....". Are you kidding me? Did he say it through a burning bush? In a dream? Did you have to build an Ark to hear him? I figured I must be on the Jesus' "B" Team would never understand what people meant when they said they heard from God.

Now let's travel back to yesterday morning at Church. It's Missionary Festival at my church and I've never been on a mission trip. I'm nervous to travel to Mesquite, Texas let alone China or Africa. Needless to say, I highly doubted the service would be one that has and will forever change my life. I'm sure your wondering? Did God call you to the mission field...NO, THANK GOD! I love Jesus but I love me some A/C, Nordstroms, Toliet paper and westernized living. But, I did hear from God.

I experienced something so real that it didn't have to be an audible voice, it was so much more clear than that. I don't know much about India except that their food looks and smells like baby dump and lingers on your clothes wash after wash. You practically have to burn your clothes to get the curry smell out. I also know that I have been prejudice towards these people because they are Muslim and I'm a Republican. That's like trying to mix oil and water...it just DON'T mix! Of course, I've been too prejudice to not assume all were radicals due to the few who are. I've never loved India, never had a desire for anything or anyone from there. Until Sunday.

Pastor Pete tells us to close our eyes and bow our heads in prayer, "Lord, break our hearts for what breaks yours". I silently say the prayer and a rush of emmotion pours over me. My heart begins breaking. The tears fall down my face as I listen to two people from India I would normally tune out because there accent was too thick, talk about the darkness and desperation in India. And then I hear it. "Adopt a child from India". Say what? That can't be right. I stick my finger in my ear to clear out the fuzz. But, yet again. "Adopt a child from India".

So, here I am. Trying to figure out what this all means, not sure where to go from here. It's crazy because I can't tell you the first thing about any of this. But I can tell you what I heard and that I will continue to listen with both ears for God's guidance, wisdom and perfect timing.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Top Ten Reasons Why I Deserve a Nobel Peace Prize

I am so excited that President Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. "GASP! OH THE HORROR! I thought she was a Christian??? Didn't Jesus tell all Christians to hate Obama before he ascended to Heaven on the third day?"

Well, if you must know the reason behind my puzzling excitement, it is for no other reason than now I, Jennifer Porter (once Robinson and once Porter-Robinson, but now just back to Porter), have a shot a being a Nobel Peace Prize Winner. I believe Obama and I are comparable to our contributions to World Peace and actually have a lot more in common that I thought (see below).

Is there like a drawing you can put your name in? Or a Survey on Why you think you deserve the prize? Well, if there was...below is my David Letterman Style, "Top Seven Reasons Why Jennifer Porter Deserves a Nobel Peace Prize". So what that I'm not great enough to have a top ten....obviously you don't have to be THAT great..


7.)In traffic during the morning commute, I didn't jump out of my car and punch the idiot in front of me for cutting me off.
6.) I too,allow the Olympics to distract me from more important issues. There's nothing more fascinating that black men beating the white guys in every event expect Gymnastics and Swimming.
5.) Obama may have street "cred" and the ability relate to all but so do I. I'm like a mullet-business in the front; party in the back.
4.)I would say off-the record (or on for that matter) that Kanye West is a idiot.
3.) I may not show it, but deep down...I'm a narcissist.
2.) My dog is from a puppy mill but it's justified because it was a gift.
1.) Sure I'll save the environment as long as the recycle bin is no further from the trash can....it's all about convenience. And if I had my own plane, I would totally use a years work of gas for a night at the theater (drill baby, drill!)

I'm not too sure how I contributed to World Peace from our similarities above except that I, too stand by my moral belief in saving the lives of the innocent. defending the weak and honoring our brave....oh, wait that's not something Obama and I have in common.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Blood Drive

BLOOD DRIVE-REMINDER pops into my inbox this morning and instantaneously I feel as if I may pass out. These friendly little reminders have been invading my work email for the past two weeks and although I have immediately deleted the intruder the moment I receive, it did not prevent the “for a good cause” blood drive hoopla from making its way to our company building. Today is the day.

I lean over my desk and pull back the blinds, lined with dust, and watch the sleek white Mega RV pull up precisely outside my window of the building. The blood-red cross plastered across the side even makes me woozy. Big boobed blondes in their scrubs fall in line outside of Dracula’s castle, disguised as a transportable blood center. Their cleavage may work on the DOM (dirty old men) in my building, but no boobs are big enough, firm enough or fake enough to work on me.

Okay, don’t make me feel any shoddier about my unyielding decision not to be a blood donor but frankly, I just can’t do it. I mean, shouldn’t doing the right thing feel good? Not make you pass out and plead with the RN for an extra orange juice box and a cracker? Yes, I know it saves lives and one day it could be mine blah, blah, blah yada, yada, yada, but I would rather have a colonoscopy on live on the Ellen show than give blood. It has to be the most evil form of torture for me.

My father, God love him, did this to me. Sorry Dad, but it’s true. You dragged me into the local Masonic Lodge (which was terrifying in itself…have YOU ever been in a building with ZERO windows??) at the age of seven and while you had your veins poked and prodded for your precious blood, the masons sat me down at the table covered with blood bags. The mixture of semi-cult atmosphere and the skyscraper of blood bags made blood donation my own personal real life nightmare.

Any time I have to give blood, I sweat like a hooker in church, pass out multiple times and act like an absolute idiot. Just ask my mother. She is truly embarrassed to go to the doctor with me. Do you know what I fear about having giving birth? The needle that they stick in your arm….that has to stay there! That is inconceivable!

So today when everyone in my office is released to go give blood, I will hide under my desk and use I the excuse, “I was out of the office”, to hide my amorphous ethics in regards to blood donation. I will be looked down upon, degraded and tainted as the uncaring spectator who wont help a dying child that needs my blood. Maybe I should find my own cotton ball and tape it to my arm so it looks like I gave blood….would it be COMPLETELY morally and ethically wrong to do that?