Jane Blog

July 30, 2004

I just came home from a John Kerry party at a house in Topanga Canyon where I had sex in the bathroom during his speech… the middle, and I was still listening. It was with this hot mactor guy (mailman/actor) who’s much smarter than you’d think. He loves Kerry and over pizza and gin he talked about how important it is that we all band together and support him. (Our legs were touching as he ranted so I knew it was goin somewhere!) I think this was the naughtiest, hottest, filthy-dirtiest thing I’ve done since having sex with the Pep Boys mechanic last Sunday under his Volvo on a wheely thing. And lemme tell ya, that wheely thing gives ya some nice motion.

But moving along, it’s time for ANSWER FRIDAY! Here’s my not-always-right opinion about some e-mailers’ issues:

Dear Jane,
i DID cover the convention and I had sex with the NBC news assistant sound man. Jealous?
Yolanda
Syracuse, New York

Dear Yolanda,
Yes. Green. I’ve always wanted to be named Yolanda.
xo,
J

Dear Jane,
I’ve been having internet sex with a young guy in India (behind my boyfriend’s back). Does that count as cheating?
April
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Dear April,
WELL, first of all, you’ve just made me very hungry for sag aloo. But I do think it’s cheating. I wouldn’t want my beloved to do that to me… on the other hand, if you think of it as outsourcing, then you’re just helping the economy. I think. Economics isn’t really my area. (is it even economics?) Ah, go have an orgasm, ya big inter-slut.
xo,
j

Jane,
I think my brother fucks horses. I’m not sure, but he’s a rancher and I’ve actually seen him do it. Should I tell someone?
Anonymous
Montana

Dear Anonymous,
Ew, ew, ew. Not only should you not tell him, you shouldn’t have told me. Ew, ew, ew.
xo,
j

On THAT note, time to go to sleep. Have a great weekend, kiss, laugh, drink (unless you’re in AA or driving), pet a puppy (unless you’re driving and he’s way in the hatchback part) and watch GOOD GIRLS DON’T on SUNDAY at 10PM.

July 29, 2004

Yesterday when I was in line at Starbucks I heard the barista telling everyone that she’s joining the army so she can get FREE PLASTIC SURGERY! It’s true! Now the military is offering free plastic surgery to everyone who enlists: boob jobs, nose jobs, chin jobs, teeth straightening, jaw reconstruction, even lipo! She said she’s always hated her thighs and turkey neck and it’s not like she’s rakin’ it in at Starbucks (no offense to the chain; you kick Coffee Bean & Tea leaf’s ass)… Anyway, she’s thinking why not join the army and get beautiful on their dollar (a/k/a taxpayers dollars)?

Actually, I’m all for it. Cause eventually we’ll have the handsomest, shapeliest, most confident army ever and then when we show up to occupy a country, who wouldn’t want us there? All our women will have big boobs and fat-free legs and the men will have perfect bone structure and straight white teeth. So the little foreigners won’t want to kill us, they’ll want to compliment us, mate with us, get their pictures taken with us… it’ll all turn into a big orgy instead of a shooting spree.

Plus, she said that members of the army soldier’s immediate family will get free surgery, too. So not only can YOU get beautiful, but you can get your mama a facelift for her fiftieth. Bottom line, I’m all for a really hot army. And I’ll be the first one waiting to greet them at the gates. Or marry a soldier for free plastic surgery in a coupl’a decades. Or one decade. Not quite sure, let’s see what the sun does to me.

Oh, here’s another way to go: I could get free plastic surgery to look just like George Bush and then order the troops around by telling them to hang out and pet puppies and act out scenes from All About Eve.” Oh, and I'd also make sure that they watch "Good Girls Don't" this Sunday at 10PM on Oxygen.

July 28, 2004

Does anyone know if Justin Timberlake is available now? Cause I heard he split from Cameron and I’m not above stalking him. I know he’s a former Mouseketeer (yes, I capitalized it -- out of respect for Keri Russell), but he is on my top ten list and it’s important not to give up on those top ten ever.

The other nine are:

Chad Michael Murray
Colin Farrell
Will Ferrell
My neighbor’s husband
Les Moonves
Brad Pitt
Jay Z
Keira Knightley
Bill Clinton

But it’s not like I wanna upset Cameron. I like her acting and she seems cool and I’ve heard that she even has complexion problems, which I love in a movie star. It’s just that if they are, in fact, splitski, why not make it public and let the girl next door have a chance? Or the girl on his doorstep with a bottle of champagne…? I mean, you can’t get arrested for giving someone a thoughtful gift, right?

Btw, thanks to all for your support in my plight to have sex with many Democrats in Boston, but since I haven’t heard back from the powers that be about getting those bigass plastic credentials, it’s not lookin good. But on the bright side, Thursday night there are tons of grassroots parties in LA for me & Marjorie to manhunt at. And if there are parties when Bush speaks up, I’ll go to those too. Must be fair in rating both groups’ sex skills. I have a feeling the Republicans will lose the Battle of the Bed, unless I have to sleep with Michael Moore. There’s a guy who’d benefit from a hot shower and a good ol’ fashioned stomach stapling. Ew, hope I don't have nightmares. xo, j

July 27, 2004

I just read that bloggers are now getting credentials to cover the Democratic convention in Boston. Well, yay bloggers! Now how do I get to go?! I want that big laminated pass to wear on my chest (maybe with nothing else) at late night parties with Kerry’s young studly helper-outers! I want the free all-you-can-eat buffet breakfasts! I want to stay in a hotel with unlimited fresh fluffy towels and a heated pool and a bar downstairs that I can wear slut clothes to and turn heads! I want to have sex with Democrats and report back to all of you how much more giving they are than Republicans! (you would think, right?). I also want to have sex wrapped in an American flag while reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. And I want to blow everyone in the million man march… and balance an amendment on my ass on late night TV.

From what I hear, their decisions are gonna be based on the following three criteria:

1) the size of the bloggers’ audience –- I get readers, thanks to YOU all who appreciate a girl with potty mouth who can hold her liquor.
2) the amount of original material it includes –- I’m no word thief like that Joe Biden guy. F them and how dare they accuse me of being one?! Do they think I just cut and paste this shit?! Okay, now I’m angry. I need to go there and protest. Or at least, pout.
3) the "professionalism" of the site –-cool, I am such a professional that I even got paid for a hand job once.

And although I don’t often talk about my job in a political type way, it can be. In fact, just yesterday I blew dry a woman’s hair to make it look like John Kerry’s wife’s hair. And my shampooer is for gay marriage. Actually, everybody at my salon is. And I only use “freedom” gel on my clients’ hair. (okay, I made that last part up but I really want those media credentials.)

Bottom line, this blogger is ready to pack her bags, ask some questions, take some notes and hit ‘send’. Yep, I’m ready for Washington, everyone. I mean, Boston.

July 26, 2004

So last night on the news I saw Lance Armstrong riding a bike in a bright yellow shirt and wondered why Sheryl Crow hasn’t told him that nobody can wear yellow and look good. Not even babies! Okay, maybe light-skinned black people. Then Marjorie informed me that the yellow jersey signifies that the person finished in first place for that day. Congratulations, but still, why yellow? Aren’t the French supposed to have a great sense of style? To me it looks like a great sense of jaundice. A little later the news camera panned over and showed botox or a special youth lens on French video, but she looked like she was 25. You’d think her son’s bout with cancer would have aged her a little. Maybe being proud of your offspring takes the wrinkles off… and/or she can afford unlimited plastic surgery. Note to self: make money in life for ALL that stuff later. At the end of the piece, they showed Lance drinking champagne while riding his bike, so I did a shot of vodka while riding my pocket rocket.

Btw: I had a boyfriend who used to ride a bike a lot, but it was only because he was a loser and didn’t have a car. I hated him so much I encouraged him NOT to wear a helmet. After everything I said, he’d ask: “Is that a fact?” He was SO annoying I’m cringing just thinking of him. Can’t even remember why I dated him… oh yeah, he was really good at pool.

Although I always defend my dating choices, every once in a while I have no idea what I was thinking.

July 23, 2004

Many of you have been emailing me and asking how many “Good Girls Don’t” episodes we did and if there’ll be another season. WELL, we shot eight episodes total, and they’re all airing this summer. But we still don’t know if there’ll be another season. For those of you who asked how YOU can help make this happen, I have an answer.

Send an email (just a line or two) to:

FEEDBACK@oxygen.com

And tell ‘em that you’re a fan! Then maybe the powers that be will be powerful and my/Marjorie/Lizzie/Ben/Davis’ crazy hijinx will rock on! FOREVER! Or at least until I hit menopause.

Now I’m gonna do Answer Friday today instead of Sunday because I have a date at the beach on Sunday with the cute black mechanic from Pep Boys. So here’s my not so humble opinion about some e-mailers’ issues.

Dear Jane,
Hey. Recently my best friend’s fiancé stuck his tongue in my mouth at a barbecue. Do I tell her? They’re supposed to get married in a month. Thanks, in advance, for your help.
Sincerely,
Cynthia
Trenton, New Jersey

Dear Cynthia:
Hmm. Maybe he was drunk and thought you were a bowl of potato salad? Or maybe he thought you were her? I say tell on the bastard. If he’s doing this before the wedding, who knows what’ll happen at the honeymoon. I hate him.

Jane,
I like performing oral on my boyfriend, but his member often tastes like urine and I don’t really like that. Any advice on how to tell him to wash it beforehand?
Your friend,
Eleanor
Des Moines, Iowa

Dear Eleanor:
Wow, I didn’t think anyone was named Eleanor anymore. Here’s how I’d tell him to wash it beforehand: Say “Wash it beforehand.” He’s your guy, be honest. OR you could do a shot of whiskey right before, which’ll numb the taste buds. I used to drink whiskey before kissing one of Sting’s roadies who had bad breath from a tooth infection.

Hey Jane,
I hear my 77 year old neighbor having sex ALL the time (we share an apartment wall). Should I say anything to him?
Lisa
Brooklyn, New York

Lisa:
Not unless you want to have sex with him. Just crank your music and be happy for the ol’ guy! Or have sex louder and better.

Have a good weekend! Xo, j

July 22, 2004

So yesterday the phone rang at 6AM and it was my boss telling me that I had to go do makeup and hair for a music video being shot at the top of Runyon Canyon. (a hill/canyon in LA where everybody hikes, including that blond girl from scrubs and countless porn stars). Anyway, my boss said it was $300 cash and that it’d be fun.

Fun it was not. It sucked, bit, blew and shat. It was 98 degrees at the top of the hill at 6AM and it hit 105 by noon. I was there until 7PM and nobody brought water or snacks for the crew the entire day. In fact, the only way to drink liquid was to lick off our own sweat. (which people were doing). The director was a 22 year old know-it-all ivy leaguer who actually YELLED AT ME BECAUSE THE DANCERS WERE SWEATING. Did they not teach you at Harvard that people sweat when they’re standing in the desert during a heat wave?! And especially people who are doing plies, arabesques and shimmies in a temperature higher than any FM radio station on the dial!

The whole time I was hoping that at least I’d be able to meet a rock star and maybe live out my ‘almost famous’ fantasy, but the rock stars weren’t even there. They’re gonna be inserted in post.

The only good part of the day was when the director chased the cameraman during a tracking shot and then fell off a cliff and a dog bit his ass. It looked like a cartoon and I laughed very hard. But then bitch karma slapped me in the face cause when I stood up to gather my stuff, I fainted from the heat. I probably would’ve died from sunstroke had the cameramen not given me a sip of his Pepsi. Little did he know I would’ve blown him for the can. And he was ugly, that’s how dehydrated I was.

Actually, I’m kinda proud that I fainted. I felt like a delicate flower and it was nice to have everyone rush over to see if I was okay. Except for the grip who said I must be either pregnant or on drugs. Even though I felt very weak, I managed to give him the finger and stick my tongue out.

July 21, 2004

It’s 3AM and I have PMS but no food in the fridge, so I’d like to devote this blog to foods I wish I had in my fridge.

Spinach knishes with horseradish sauce for dipping
Ribs (not human, from a tasty animal)
French fries (I mean, “freedom fries”)
Cold sake in a little box that’s fun to drink from and makes me feel like I’m on a date
Miniature Milky Way bars
A frozen yogurt machine with Milky Way flavored frozen yogurt in it; you know, the kind that I could put my face underneath, open my mouth, pull a lever and let it rip. And by rip, I mean flow.
More ribs
A giant ice blended from coffee bean & tea leaf with real whipped cream
Real whipped cream to eat off a hot guy’s hoo-ha
A hot guy (PMS makes me hornier than usual, as does ovulation)
A hot dog
Jewish brisket
Bread and butter pudding (never had the real stuff; improvised once when I was high)
Orange flavored children’s aspirin – yum!
Flintstones vitamins – yum!
Root beer (good for the teeth compared to other soft drinks, so we hear!)
Edamame (good for the ovaries and edamame salesmen)
Linguini in red clam sauce
Linguini in white sauce
Linguini in light red sauce
Gazpacho, but heated up (I’m quirky, okay?!)
My snot (KIDDING, but some of my readers are five-ish. And is eating your snot a crime? Just askin.)

But INSTEAD all we have are stale rice cakes. I’m so sad and can’t wait till it’s morning. Maybe I’ll dream I’m a giant cheeseburger. Or maybe I’ll just fry up Marjorie. Although she has no fat. In a plane crash, I’m sure people would eat me up instead of her. Or she’d be the appetizer and I’d be the entrée. And dessert. I would so love to be the type of person who could keep food in her refrigerator. Maybe if i lived on a farm... have a good day! xo

July 20, 2004

Since I struck out with deaf cheater Charlie and haven’t heard from Frank Sr since the hurling ep, yesterday I decided to follow Marjorie’s lead and take a trip to Pep Boys to scope out some peppy boys. And I met FOUR of ‘em. Okay, three, I’m exaggerating to make the story better. But still, three is a LOT for a twenty-minute jaunt during lunch. And they were all v. hunky and smelled like grease and had oil stains all over their hands. Am not so sure I want any of those paws near my hoo-ha, but w/some alcohol and bad lighting I might not care. Uh oh, I probably shouldn’t smoke around these guys either – I mean, they all looked pretty flammable, especially in the torso area.

But now I have no idea who to call first. It’s a huge conondrum. (So is spelling ‘conundrum’ but thanks to spell-check it’s all good.) How can I call three guys who work together? And now their business cards are all mixed up in the bottom of my purse so I have no idea who’s who. There was the guy behind the counter with the Spanish accent, then the guy under the lift thingie with the Spanish accent and then a black one who I only saw from waist down (he was working under a car) but he had great knees and calves. Maybe I’ll invite them all to Bella’s one night. And I’ll put some industrial strength soap and a nailbrush in the men’s room to encourage them to scrub. Or I’ll get Davis to write my name in the men’s room of Pep Boys and see who calls first. But then I’d have to wait for the phone to ring which is an activity I HATE. I’ll just stop by pep boys again and pay closer attention to name tags.

I’m now in the best mood thinking of my 3 mechanics. Am going to celebrate by eating ribs for breakfast.

July 19, 2004

So yesterday I went to the Kabbalah Center on Robertson to buy one of those red string bracelets that’s all that right now. And I have to say, those kabbalists have a very nice place – kinda indoor/outdoors with lotsa plants and fountains and free dry cookies and hot tea, which I partook in even though it’s 98 degrees in LA now. So after a snack I went into the adjoining store and asked a cute bearded man with big brown eyes where the red string bracelets were. He pointed to a locked jewelry case and said that I can’t buy one. I have to take a ten week course for $270 and THEN I’ll receive a blessed one. Now I’m not against spirituality, but I don’t have the extra time or money to spend on it right now. Especially not $270/ten weeks worth. So on the way home I stopped off at the 98 cent store (yes, there is one, I’m not just being cute) and I bought some red string and made my own. And one for Marjorie. Not giving Lizzie one, though. She’s a swimsuit model who has such tiny wrists it makes me wanna slit mine.

I hope these homemade Kabbalah bracelets don’t give us bad luck, though. I mean, I’m not even sure it’s the exact shade of red it’s supposed to be. It’s a little too cherry-magenta-y as opposed to real red-y. And it’s kinda cutting off my circulation. Shit, I’m feeling like this is an unblessed piece of string and it’s going to bring me bad luck. I probably shoulda gone to the 99 cent store and not added that extra layer of cheapness.

Okay, I just cut my wrist a little while snipping off my makeshift Kabbalah bracelet. I guess the Great Almighty doesn’t like it when you try to buck the system.