Jane Blog

June 30, 2004

A very shitty start to this morning. My mother called, furious. Last night Marjorie’s mom told her about my blogs, so then my mom stayed up all night with a bottle of chablis reading them. (she’s a slow reader and a fast drinker) And guess what pissed her off the most? That southern Sam stuck his finger up my ass during sex. (see june 8th, it’s a classic) Anyway, I told her to relax, cause it’s not like she was a nun in the early eighties after the divorce. I may have been a kid, but I clearly remember some shady characters who looked like mick jagger hanging out in her room. And more than one at a time, ps. Hey, Mom: Please don’t take offense that I’m writing this! I didn’t like it back then, but now I find it all pretty damn impressive. Although I don’t think I could find guys in glitter tops attractive.

Enough of Mom-stuff, back to me. In spite of my new pals Sophia and Roger suggesting that I get freaky with father and son, apparently my dilemma was much ado about squat. Cause yesterday when Frank jr came into the salon he did ask me out – but on a double date with his dad, him and his fiancé. Jr says he’s much less of a commitment-phobe than the old man. (I hate that expression “old man”, like I hate the word “helpful”… anybody who says “that would be helpful” should be shot.) Anyway, we’re all having dinner this weekend. Will report back. At least now I don’t have to pick between ‘em. Although I’d already rationalized sleeping with both. And thought about all the other father/son duos I would’ve gotten jiggy with: Freddie prinze jr and sr, martin and Charlie sheen, jack Nicholson sr and jr (he doesn’t have a son, but if he did, I’d be there), the Baldwin brothers, howard stern and stuttering john, okay, now I’m just really horny.

June 29, 2004

Britney’s engaged. Yay. I’m glad she’s off the market. You'd think this wouldn’t matter to me because it’s not like little old me is competing with Britney Spears for guys, but the truth is: I am. Because in L.A. young hipster guys in black denim ACTUALLY THINK THEY CAN GET BRITNEY SPEARS!! This is the land of men who want famous hot young women. Okay, ALL men want famous hot young women, but in LA they reallllllyyyy believe they have a shot. Especially if they have a nice car.

But I’m not complaining about guys right now because I might just be in an awesome li’l pickle with TWO. Yesterday afternoon, Frank (50 year old) stopped by the salon to say hi. And guess who was with him? His son who’s A YEAR YOUNGER THAN ME AND TOTALLY HOT. And I think he liked me cause he was eyeing my boobs the entire time and I wasn’t even wearing a cute top. The son (also named Frank, which makes it easy if I boink both – I like calling out a guy’s name during sex, I think it personalizes things)… Anyway, Frank jr. is coming in tomorrow for a haircut and I’m a huge wreck. What should I do if he asks me out? Or more likely, if I ask him out? Would that make me a horrible person? Will you guys keep reading my blogs if I try and date both father and offspring? I guess I could try to find someone to fix Frank senior up with before dating junior. But that seems like a lot of work. Plus, I really don’t want to give up Sr until I have at least one date with Jr, because I do have chemistry with Sr… but I sense a scoche more with Jr. Please advise. Via comment or email. Oh, Marjorie says I shouldn’t date either. I hate Marjorie sometimes.

June 28, 2004

Happy Monday. As you see, I’ve added 3 new Blogs I Love. actually, I added them Friday but couldn’t get it together to write about them. (I meant to, but then i smoked pot and got too paranoid. And then I had to go to marjorie’s teacher awards thing. M got SO mad at me for fooling around with her principal. How was I supposed to know he's married?! no ring, no ring-tan line. They’re all fair game without that band of gold or lighter flesh. Plus, he didn’t exactly seem guilt ridden when he was hickeying me in the janitor’s closet. Anyway, he’s pretty cute (asian!) and I thought it might be good for marjorie’s career. Let’s get her moved up to vice principal or something so she can bring in some real dollars. And I still need to add ‘asian man’ to my WIF list (who I’ve f#@ked). This is the longest thought before an end of parenthesis that I’ve ever written.)

Okay, big hi to Chelsea Peretti, who just started her v. own blog, but more importantly, she OWNS A BAR IN NYC. Chelsea, I read that you’re offering free shots to people who live there, but can I somehow parlay that into free shots here? Do bar owners in major metropolitan cities know each other and can we work something out? Lizzie (swimsuit model) used to be paid to go to a bar and sit near the window and drink for free just to attract people. Can you say Dream Job? One other question, and this might be tacky but I think you can handle it, Chelsea: Are you related to Elsa Peretti, the jewelry designer? And if so, can I get a discount, or better yet, a necklace? I’ll do your hair if you’re ever in LA.

Other big hi’s: to Richard Rushfield. What the hell is undercleavage? Now that I think about it, is it the area under the boob if the boob sits so high as not to flop? Either the 15 year old boob or the fake boob, most likely… please inform. And a big hi to Kirk. Welcome to the blogosphere, but one blog a week ain’t gonna cut it. Hit the keyboard, brutha! Or I’m gonna have to come over and smack you with my undercleavage. Hmm, difficult to use a word when I have no clue with it means and it already kinda depresses me.

June 25, 2004

Okay, traffic isn’t the problem today. It’s my eyelashes. I tinted them brown when I woke up and now they’re burning and I can barely see. So please excuse me if I have nay typos. Ouch. This shit hurts. Maybe I’m allergic. Damnit.

But right after I tinted them I went to the corner deli and an interesting thing happened as I waited for my toasted everything bagel with cream cheese. A hasidic jewish man hit on me. I think he was hasedic. My eyes were starting to burn but I believe he had the curly q hair things hanging from his ears. And he wore all black and had a big black hat. Either he was hasedic or a very out of fashion cowboy. So he looked at me and asked me how I was. I said hungry and he laughed. Then he asked me if I was Jewish. I lied and said I was. what’s the worst that can happen? And who knows, I might convert for the right guy. Then he smiled at me and I batted my lashes, although it hurt like hell. After I paid (no, he didn’t buy my bagel), he asked me if I was free for shabbos. I panicked. What’s shabbos? And am I even spelling it correctly? I said that I was free and asked him if he wanted to go to Bellas for margaritas and cheeseburgers. (I’ve had a craving for cheeseburgers since Wednesday) He looked like I’d said ‘f you’ and ran out of there. The old lady in line behind me heard everything and told me that cheeseburgers aren’t kosher and that I’d scared him away. I started to run after him, but then stopped. My eyes were stinging and i thought that maybe I need to study Judaism a little before immersing myself in that world. But I’m totally game. I mean, if Madonna likes it, I’m willing to give it a shot. I’ve always kinda felt like I’m chosen in some way…

Anyhow, happy shabbos. (that’s Friday night, fyi; the old lady told me). And if you’re not partaking in religious celebration, or are but have little tv sets on the back of your pews, check out good girls don’t. It’s pretty funny, if I do say so myself. I’ll be watching if my eyes still work by then.

June 24, 2004

Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks

Guess who was in traffic this morning that made it take TWO entire hours to go 5 miles?!

Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks
Traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks traffic sucks

Me. Sure, LA has hikes, sun, health, fun. But yes, indeed, traffic does SUCK. But y’know what doesn’t? Frank (oldie) called to say that he thinks I’m super sexy. He said really sexy, but I’m youngin’ him up. He’s stopping by the salon tomorrow for lunch. I am definitely sleeping with this dude. Soon.

So my friend from the Bronx (actually Pasadena) emailed me with a problem. Let’s call her Shmichelle. (hi michelle). Her problem is that her new guy mark (hi Phil!) wants her to talk dirty, but whenever she does she breaks into giggle fits. And shmichelle wants to know exactly what to say. Well, first off, it’s not like he needs the Gettysburg address, just throw him a few choice ditties: F-me, you’re so hot, you turn me on, you’re so big (try especially hard not to giggle during that part). But if you are, think dead pets. Nobody laughs thinking of dead pets. And if you do, schmichelle, we’re no longer friends. Bottom line, if phil, I mean mark, wants you to talk dirty more than that and you’re uncomfortable with it, dump him. Because as oprah says, we have to be ourselves. I don’t really know if oprah actually says that, but she’s gotta think it, right? And y’know what else she’s gotta think? That TRAFFIC SUCKS!!

June 23, 2004

Great sushi date with frank last night. bottomless hot sake and two albacore rolls with delicious fried garlic chips in a spicy sauce. And a few orders of squid. Love squid because it’s like gum that you can chew forever (but don’t try blowing bubbles, I tried once and sprained my tongue). Anyhow, Frank is delightful. Funny. Angry. Talked about how much he hates everyone in this town and how screwed up they all are and how phony. I think he’s a winner. Plus, angry guys are always better in bed. And he spoke Japanese to the sushi chef. I think they were saying that I was hot because they both smiled at me very hard after every exchange.

Frank didn’t ask too many ?s about me, but that’s okay. It’s not like I had the most exciting day yesterday and today boss lady has me running a workshop teaching Beverly hills ladies how to blow dry their hair. Fifty bucks a pop. I’d love to put lighter fluid in the dryers and bald ‘em all up. Ah, that would rock.

Frank drove me home and we fooled around in the car for a bit. Actually, we went to 3rd base, but then I decided to halt things. Someone’s gotta show restraint! He liked making out in the car, tho. I think it reminded him of his youth. Yay, I’m dating Fonzie!

On the topic of love, here’s a nice little story. My friend Tiffany from san Francisco just told me that her girlfriend met someone through one of those lunch dating services and is madly in love. The hitch? Her girlfriend wears adult diapers bec of an incontinence problem. The guy doesn’t know about this yet, but we’re praying that he doesn’t lose interest when he finds out!! will keep you posted. (this friend didn’t tell the dating service about her issue). And if you’re wondering, the “friend” is NOT me. i would've told you guys blogs ago. xo.

June 22, 2004

This is from my new british boyfriend
(blackcollarworker.blogspot.com):

hi jane,

thanks for the shoutout - my trans-atlanic fanclub now has its first
member - every first Friday of the month you have to down a large
'shambles' (vodka, red bull, and champagne) in one. its the club
rules.

and saying 'I love you' during drunken sex doesn't count. not the last time i said it, anyway.

cheers,

victor

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so how cool is my man victor?! of course, according to his blog he has a blonde girlfriend, but that’s okay. I’ve been kinda curious about a three-way lately. I always thought if I had one, it’d be two guys and me, but then I thought why limit myself? I could do it the other way (2 girls + guy), too. this isn’t sophie’s choice.

Meanwhile, we had zero clients yesterday so boss lady, me and ken skipped out to see a matinee of “stepford wives.” Loved the dresses, but fell asleep during the second half. (Must be yesterday’s bikram class.) Even though I haven’t seen the original, it MUST be better than this remake or there wouldn’t be such hoopla.

3 other comments:
I can’t look at matthew broderick without thinking that he’s married to sarah Jessica parker and wondering how often they have sex (excuse my computer for its selective capitalization.)

I can’t look at Nicole kidman without wondering IF she and tom cruise ever had sex.

AND I can’t look at bette midler without thinking of mayim bialik. (she played bette midler as a kid in Beaches).

Fyi, mayim bialik has seven piercings in each ear and in her life has adopted a whale, a wolf and a manatee. (how bad must her place stink? I’m saying this bec my friend lisa has 2 cats and her place is urinepalooza.) Have to go get ready for date with frank (older man). This afternoon I called him and hung up when he answered. (Yes, I’m 5). But then he star sixty-nined me and is picking me up in 20 minutes for sushi downtown. Am liking him so far.

SHIT, lizzie just stopped by. why does the swimsuit model have to show up (in her swimsuit, ugh) just in time for first date? Must get rid of her. not that I’m that insecure, it’s just that I don’t feel like dealing with a new guy and a girl in a string bikini right now. unless it's a three-some. which this is not.

June 21, 2004

After a weekend of staying out both nights till 4AM, Lizzie dragged me to her yoga studio in Venice yesterday afternoon. What she didn’t tell me is that it’s Bikram yoga, where they heat up the room to 110 degrees. I should’ve known it was gonna suck when the guy behind the front desk turned his head toward me and beads of his sweat flew into my eyes. YUCK. Now I’m not really a sweater or a worker-outer, but even I was drenched before I laid down my sticky mat. I thought somebody was drinking because I smelled tequila, but then I realized that it was ME! An entire weekend of margaritas were seeping out of my pores! Lizzie said not to feel bad because she was releasing a weekend of vodka stingers, which smells ten times worse. As soon as the teacher (an overweight pony-tailed guy with an eyepatch) came in, he immediately started having us bend and shit. I hung in for about 22 beads of sweat (I counted them on my mat) and then bolted from planet mercury to planet bathroom, where I curled up in the corner and took the best nap of my entire life. (one dream about snickers frozen yogurt, one sex dream) Lizzie woke me up a couple hours later when she finished class. I still can’t believe she made it through till the end, but she’ll do anything to lose weight. She said sometimes she drives to the valley during a heat wave and sits in her car in the sun without the air conditioning. She says it burns at least 600 calories an hour. Glad I’m not a swimsuit model.

Btw, on our way out, I saw both Sissy Spacek and Drew Barrymore. Making out. Kidding.

June 18, 2004

I believe I have my very first blogcrush - on a British guy. His name is Victor and he’s so hot and hip I can’t stand it. Check him out @ www.blackcollarworker.blogspot.com. And Victor, if you read this: come to America anytime to visit. And bring friends! And fish ‘n chips, I’ve always wanted to taste them.

Now back to American men. Oldie stopped by the salon today. Okay, that wasn’t nice of me. I meant mr. wrinkly. Ha. Actually, his real name is Frank. Frank: an old name for an old man. But the good news? He’s pretty damn handsome. Still works out, still parties. Although I do think he said 'partay’ which grosses me out so I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear it. he’s about 6’ tall (hasn’t shrunk yet!), has brown hair and brown eyes and a really nice smile. And one crooked tooth in the front, which I find totally sexy. But just when one’s messed up, not all of ‘em. And he has a grizzly-ish face with very sexy crow’s feet. Overall, I’m glad I wore the push up bra and had perfect 2nd day dirty hair because he asked me out for next week. I love that he assumed I had plans this weekend. (I don’t, p.s.). I wasn’t thrilled that he made googly eyes at the new redheaded manicurist on his way out, so I’m gonna ignore that, too. I like giving them the benefit of the doubt until they fuck it up themselves. (Or until I fuck it up) sorry for the potty mouth, but it is Friday.

And for a tad of shameless self promotion: watch good girls don’t this weekend to see how I got photo #3 in the gallery. xo

June 17, 2004

I’ve been asked why I don’t blog during the day. Here’s the deal: I have to work for a living. I’m a stylist at a salon and going online isn’t something that’s cool with boss lady or even possible. I’m busy cutting, coloring, blowing (dry), waxing, threading, etc… if I were independently wealthy, I’d blog nonstop. Maybe one day when I become famous for inventing the next bedazzler, or interesting hair thingie… But for now I’ll be blogging in the morning before I go to my low level paying job that I’m way better than but people don’t realize it. yet.

The major thing that happened today was that I dyed a woman's hair chestnut and now she wants to fix me up on a blind date with her friend. the catch? He’s 50. but she said he acts like he’s 20. I asked if he was rich (I’m no gold digger, but if the guy’s 22 years older than me, hopefully he had a savings account, right?) she said he used to be rich but he pissed off everyone in hollywood and now nobody will hire him. he’s a movie writer and is supposed to stop by the salon tomorrow to say hi. I don’t think I’m interested, although bill clinton’s 50ish and he’s kinda cute, and so is Harrison ford and warren beatty before he got puffy and I LOVE dustin hoffman… hmm… will wear new push up bra for the stop-by. oh, also, I really like sean penn I know he’s not fifty, but he will be someday.

I’ll end this blogeroo w/a link to the lovely and painfully cool shelli, who wrote a poem for me today. Thanks, girl. Nobody’s EVER written a poem about me, not even a lover.