Holiday Schmoliday

Hello! Happy post holidays all... I am burned out from working and holidaying. The other night I worked my box office shift and got the best call ever--

CALLER: Hi, is there an eight o'clock show?

MRS. JARCY: Yes, there are two eight o'clock shows. One is our signature show and it's free. The other show involves puppets and it is $5.

CALLER: Great and how much is the free show?

PAUSE FOR THE TWO OF US TO ABSORB WHAT CALLER JUST ASKED.

CALLER: Uh, so I guess the free show is just free, huh?

MRS. JARCY: Yes, the free show is free.

CALLER: Okay, thanks.

Tempting Fate

Since returning home from Mexico, there have been more sunny days than in the last month and a half. I know this to be true because I have rescheduled a photo shoot for new headshots 4 TIMES due to consistent cloudiness.

The "it photographer" suggested by everyone in town only uses natural light. Que lastima! I knew this only after forking over a sizable deposit and becoming utterly seduced by her work (she has earned her "it" status). But we are, unfortunately, in Chicago and the sun skips town along with our local elders for the winter.

After 4 attempts at sun (and having to get up at the ungodly hours of 5 and 6am for these shoots), I got to attempt 5. I thought 5 was my lucky number! I was wrong. Instead I developed a broken blood vessel in my left eye which doesn't really go hand-in-hand with expensive, up close, color headshots. Well, maybe if I were doing a commercial for blood vessels breaking in one's eye...nope, not even then.

Eye condition aside, here's another irritation: The day I had to cancel--as opposed to being cancelled on--the sun shined all day long. All day. The following day it did the same. All day. Today the sun shone so brightly I thought I had left my Seasonal Affective Disorder light box turned on by mistake. Nope, it was just really sunny.

Everyone I have relayed this story to has said, "You know, it just hasn't been the right time for those headshots. It's just not meant to be yet." I had actually thought this as well. But that thought was fleeting.

Why in the hell would it not be the right time to get headshots taken? The idea that it "just isn't meant to be right now" is a phrase we use for breakups brimming with potential or job promotions in which we've been skipped over. This is not either of those situations! This is about getting some color photos taken of myself so that I can be more marketable as an actor. It's not as if NOT having new headshots will help me get noticed. On the contrary, I have gone unnoticed for far too long here! I've even told myself this delay simply gives me more time to get in better shape for when the shoot finally happens. And that's horse shit. Sure, I'd love to lose weight but I could weigh 79 lbs and still think that (before you judge me, I am a woman and ALL women have this thought at least once on the hour).

If I were to truly believe a higher power likes rearranging my headshots for a time that IS meant to be, I may have much bigger problems then an agitated sleep schedule and anxiously awaiting agent. And yet, I'm still secretly hoping something utterly wonderful happens in January for date #6 that could not possibly have taken place a moment sooner.

Over A Month And Now Writing To An Abyss

If you think my posting is sporadic (and by sporadic I mean sparse), you should see my workout regime.

New year's resolution...POST! Other new year's resolution...WORK OUT! One more new year's resolution...FOLLOW THROUGH WITH RESOLUTION 1 AND 2! Place your bets now suckers.

Hey in other news, Mr. Jarcy and I went to Mexico! Mr. Jarcy freaked out about the water but we both made it home in one piece. Well, except for the big scrape Mr. Jarcy gave himself by jumping into a very tiny wave and, as a result, hitting the bottom of the ocean. I think he realized nano seconds after doing it that was not the best idea.

Feliz Navidad!

Rules Are Made To Be Followed

Hello!

A Chicago police officer was mean to me yesterday. But this post is not about that. It's about my cats' sleeping patterns.

He did stop all traffic just to tell me my wheels were not completely stopped at a stop sign though. I stop at stop signs so it's like telling the straight A kid to make a 4.0 GPA. Jerk. Good thing Chicago doesn't have any other issues for a policeman to pay attention to. It's like Mayberry here I guess. The city jails are probably overfilled with people who really stop at stop signs but just not quite enough for him. Fines double for walkers strutting inches outside of the designated white crossing zone.

But hey! This post isn't about that!

My cats decide in the morning that my sleep shift in the bed is over and it's their turn to work the day shift. And by work I mean sleep.

That cop was scary! Did I mention that?! He had big googly eyes but there's still no way he could have seen my wheels turning from the other direction! Why would I conduct a rolling stop in front of a rogue police officer?! That would be stupid!

Perhaps they're convinced the bed is theirs. The fact I sleep on a quarter panel of the bed at night to accommodate their fat bodies backs up this theory.

"Now are you going to stop at stop signs in the future?" OF COURSE I AM! I ALWAYS DO! AND I DID JUST THEN! SERVE AND PROTECT! SERVE AND PROTECT!

God those cats really get me worked up...

Post Gabbers

Mail carriers like to talk on the phone. A lot!

Don't believe me? Just look around you and you will see--or rather hear--for yourself. I can make this statement because I've been walking dogs around the various north side neighborhoods for over two years. Our U.S. postal workers LOVE gabbing on the phone! I see them talking while they're walking and delivering. I see them talking while sitting in their mail vehicles on break. I see them all over having lengthy cell phone conversations! I wonder if they can count their phone as an expense on their taxes? Either that or they're taking second mortgages out on their homes to pay for the mintues. Seriously, it's a lot!

Now I am in no way knocking them for this behavior...I would be doing the same thing I suppose. It's just a frequent habit I see all over and it makes me wonder what they did to pass the time before cell phones?! Compose sonnets in their heads? Sing? Interact with others? Hmmm...

Dial 271 For Express Check-Out

I'm a thief!

Last week I stayed at a Holiday Inn outside of Chicago for a work trip. I was just going through the tote bag I took on that trip and found the "Holiday Inn Telephone & Guest Services Guide." Woopsie. Should I mail it back to them? Maybe I stashed it away in my sleep (during what little sleep I got in my room facing the highway).

Figure This Out, Freud...

Hello!

I bought a new phone and switched my phone service to Mr. Jarcy's plan. The thought was this would save us money, however, the plan we now share costs about the same as our individual plans. Ah well.

I use a ton of features on my phone and especially love the NOTES tool. I use it to remember birthdays, my frequent flyer mile numbers and this gem of a thought--

"I am protected at night. Grab your nearest elder! Went to bed early. Big fence to keep out or possibly in. Fighter planes overhead. Always the youngest, even at sixty. I want to be old."

What??? Yeah, I have no idea either. I'm sort of afraid of myself now.

I Keep Them Guessing

"Come on...you had to know the day would come when one of us would sit on the only piece of furniture we haven't covered in fur! I guess you'll just have to find a new seat for your allergic friends. Suckers..."

I Hope It's Not Raining Tomorrow...I Gotta Fly To Another State Far Away

Hello hello!

So I was given a light box for seasonal affective disorder. I'm not sure if I have seasonal affective disorder (SAD) but I'm loving my new indoor sun immensely! It seems to be a tricky machine--you must sit close to it for 30 to 45 minutes starting out (or at least that's what a site on the Internet prescribed). However, the thing seems to be as strong as football stadium lights and I might be cooking my eye retinas. It does feel really good though. I have an active imagination so every time I sit in front of it I'm in a different place--the south of France, Maya Riviera, Fiji. Ah, Fiji...

Once I tried a tanning bed in the winter, thinking this would help my self-diagnosed SAD condition. It did feel kind of pleasant although I am opposed to tanning beds now that I'm beyond the age of 19. Unfortunately I developed skin spots all over my hands from it...EEEEEEEEEEEEK! It was like I had aged 58 years in the span of 2 tanning bed sessions. I took that as a sign tanning beds were not the same as a seasonal affective disorder light box. And I'm afraid of cancer. I put SPF 45 on even in the winter, no lie.

I found $26 today! And a coat! Well six of the dollars and the coat were actually mine but they had been residing on a coat rack in our hallway and completely escaped my memory. I even looked over the coat several times wondering if it was indeed mine or for some reason someone else's. Of course it's mine! Is it? It looks just like a coat I've had for a long time but it appeared to be in better condition than I remembered and that threw me off. Then I just took a walk around the neighborhood and found a twenty dollar bill on the ground. Nobody was around or I'm sure I would have talked them into taking it. I'm stupid like that sometimes.

Ah Fiji...

Sleep Becomes Her

Soooo....I'm having some troubles with the sleep. I think we can all agree sleep is an essential part of one's existence. My essential seems to be screwed up. After not going to sleep until 2-3am most of this past week, I ended up going to bed at 1am on Sunday night. And I couldn't sleep. Then last night I was way zonked by 9:30pm and thought, hey I should just go to sleep now or else I'll get that late night second wind. Other people go to bed early, why can't I?

So I did just that. I turned off "Journeyman," "The Bachelor," "The Hills" and whatever else I was simultaneously watching (all of them really suck by the way) and I was asleep by 10pm. 10pm! I haven't done that in ages or at least not since a trans-Atlantic flight or something. I was convinced I'd be getting an awesome night of sleep. Other people can go to bed early, so can I!

Anything that could sabotage this sleep would indeed occur. Here is a short list...

1. I woke up at midnight wide awake.
2. Mr. Jarcy came to bed and tossed and turned a bit. This woke me up.
3. I woke up approximately 759 other times wide awake throughout the night and for no apparent reason.
4. My Crazy cat began growling in her sleep. Growling! She was dreaming and then even hissed which must have woken her up from this nightmare. Brother!
5. I woke up to the smell of grilled onions and realized my entire apartment smelled like this from the meal I had made for dinner. It was quite yummy but then you don't want to wake up to that smell.
6. Woke up with songs from a musical plastered in my head. This happened repeatedly.
7. Crazy cat woke me up to be fed around 3:3oam.
8. Fatty cat began opening cupboards in search of food. (Her name is Fatty for a reason so they're squirrely with this diet their on.)
9. My neighbor below is now getting up for work. It feels like 5am.
10. My neighbor NEXT DOOR is now getting ready for work and it's like she's doing it in my bedroom! I can hear her talking, her hair is getting dried, she's laughing....
11. Mr. Jarcy is now up. He's doing vocal warm ups before work. Don't ask.
12. Some woman is walking her kid outside and singing an annoying kid friendly song while also pointing out all the different Halloween decorations my neighbor has out front.
13. Cats--Fatty and Creepy--decide it's time for me to rise again to feed them. So I give up and just get up.

Other people go to bed early. I'm not other people.

Grannypants

I just voted for Mel B. on "Dancing With The Stars" and now I'm watching the latest rendition of "The Bachelor." Oh dear goddess above, I think I need some new hobbies. Anyone up for bridge?

Brrrrrrrr......Rrrrrrrrr....Constant Buzzing Sound....Grrr....

For almost an hour now I've been hearing helicopters overhead. I can't make sense of it. At first I thought it was a small plane flying around like the ones promoting Geico's low insurance rates. Those have been flying over the north side for a week now (sorry Geico, I'm still not switching my car insurance so lay off the fuel wasting). That theory is blown, however, because it's 10:34pm. Then I started to freak out that some major accident had occurred. Dear god, the theater I work at is over that way--is it on fire?! Some performer finally lit a deadly blaze after being cut from the stage! Or maybe a terrorist attack??!! WHAT HAPPENED??!!!

So I logged on to Chicago Tribune's website...and all the helicopters are hovering over Wrigley Field now that the Cubs are going post season. All the hoopla is over the Cubs. Cubs. Schmubs.

Wow, and here I was preparing for a natural disaster or something. Well, now this area WILL be like a natural disaster with more Cubs mania. As a local I may be forced to evacuate. Like to here--


That's where I spent the last two days (well, probably not even more than 24 hours really) and it's in the middle of nowhere in Nevada. It sure was pretty! No Schmubs...I mean Cubs. And I liked it. I took two walks. No casinos for me. Too depressing. I highly recommend rural Nevada if you're looking for no Cubs.

Wake Up....NOW. And NOW. And NOW...

Saturday...8am...do you know your neighbors are doing?

Well I do! My neighbors decided today was the most perfect of perfect days to re tar their roof. Yep. Mr. Jarcy and I don't go to bed until 2am on the weekends (well for him it's more like 3am). We work, we perform in shows, we go see shows, we read, did I mention we work? Oh yeah I did but anyone can agree I deserve a break because I am severely screwed up from lack of sleeeeep.

I've just decided my next creative venture will be to write a manual on being a good neighbor. The first chapter will be dedicated entirely to why one should NOT work on a roof at 8 am.

Did I mention their house is two story and our apartment is on the third floor? Oh yes, that is true. I woke up and peered out the window only to see 5 shirtless men blasting and hammering not 5 feet away from my bedroom. I might go all Bionic Woman on them and jump out of one of our windows to that roof.

I'm being a baby I know but my concept of weekend is clearly different from other folks. I spent last night downing beer and viewing a late evening show called "Thunderpussy." Nothing prepared me for home projects at the crack of Saturday dawn.

A Confession Friday Again

I am watching America's Funniest Videos...and loving every minute of it.

Vegging

Oh hello! I can't believe it's been weeks since I last posted. I'm starting to wonder if every time I post it will now start with that. ("Oh! I've been gone, hello!")

I have been up to various things. Recently I began walking more. And more. And more...a lot. I was convinced I had lost 5 lbs. in less than a week just from walking. Then I slacked off for 3 days and feel as if I've gained 7 lbs. just as payback for my lazy nature. AHHH!

I also stopped eating meat and most dairy. I'm not going to kid myself that I will never eat meat again because I can barely stick with anything unless legally required to. Hey, why can't I be legally held responsible for not eating meat?? I wish. If I tried to go cold turkey I'm certain I would pick up a leg of turkey 5 minutes after that decision. Any time I try to declare something is final I end up blowing it. Just human nature I guess.

Well, I'm off to eat my dinner of oatmeal and fruit...

Tease Me Please Me

I have an obsession. It's sort of hidden. I've openly professed my love of Jim Morrison and classic rock long ago. But this love is possibly overlooked. I did grow up in the 80's though so it's only natural...

I LOVE HAIR BANDS.

And I'm not talking about the bands that keep my hair tied together in a pony tail...although those are pretty cool too. No, I mean metal/rock hair bands-- Motley Crue, Cinderella, Bon Jovi, Slaughter, Skid Row, Whitesnake and Poison. Sometimes I throw Tesla and The Cult into the mix but I don't think they're technically hair bands. They have a lot of effin hair though. Oh and G n R have to be as well because Duff McKagan is a god to be worshipped. That's right, I made that declaration.

My hair was crazy big in the late 80's...I wonder if I should revive that trend?!

Two Can Play At This Game, Martha Stewart!

Hello hello!

I'm turning into someone I don't recognize. Have you been there?

No, I haven't shaved all my hair off (although in this heat that's tempting) or applied to law school. It's much much worse...

I'm organizing my home.

CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? Well maybe so because you may not know me. But if you do know me then you know I'm somewhat of a pack rat. A clutter bug. Disorganized. And it's been driving me nuts so I'm on this mission to find a home for every article Mr. Jarcy and I own. And it feels good! I'm even getting errands done that I've spent months putting off--clothes dropped at the non-toxic dry cleaner, rebates sent off for my new contacts, insurance as a pet caretaker arranged.

Dear goddess above, what has happened to the old me?! And can she stay wherever she is for now? I'm liking this new and more efficient version!

Alas, I still have time allotted this evening for my love/hate relationship with reality TV. I'm waiting for a letter from MTV to arrive any day now notifying me I have moved beyond the age bracket allowed to view it. Those Hills bitches are just too fucked up to turn off though!

God I Miss Glam Rock

Hello? Um, hi?!

I seem to have abandoned my blog here. It's funny, I started this blog because I found myself with free time. But over the course of the last few months I have become increasingly busy with little time to spare. Work, classes, shows, etc. I've been busy! Now I'm looking back at the time when I was bored and wishing I were back there. Ah, a classic example of how the grass is always greener on the other side I guess.

I'm in a writing class that is finishing up this week. I have homework to complete but I can't concentrate. "Rock of Love" starts in 15 minutes and I'm dying to watch. I'm making deals with myself like, "Okay, at least take a shower first and then you can watch the show." It takes very little for me to talk myself into wasting time, although I'm not sure watching "Rock of Love" is a waste. That show is great! I can't wait to see what terribly obnoxious jackets Bret Michaels will be donning in today's episode.

I ordered a book through Amazon.com called "Skinny Bitch." I had to. I. Had. To. I read an article about it in the Chicago Tribune and I'm hoping it turns me vegan. Yep, I'm hoping this book finally pushes me to vegan territory. We'll see, I do love cookies and tilapia tacos and cheese and...as you can see the vegan identity is something I aspire towards. The book also claims that "soda is liquid Satan." You see? I have to read this shit!

Okay, I now have 9 minutes to shower and watch "Rock of Love." And THEN I will write. Well, after I take my "clients" to their dog grooming appointment. THEN I will write. Oh god, now only 8 minutes to shower before "Rock of Love." AH!!!!!!

Happy Song Naked Time

Now let's get one thing straight here! Mrs. Jarcy is not fat. Flabby, perhaps. Do I mind strangers seeing me in a bathing suit? Well, sort of but not so much. They're strangers, I've reminded myself I'm married now and it shouldn't matter if anyone cares what I look like.

Which of course if bullshit.

So I think I've found the ultimate catapult into workout mode...get yourself cast in a show where you must make a quick costume change and there's nowhere to do so privately. Last night I flashed my Hanes undies AND Barely There bra for boys I've known for years as I changed from one costume to the next. I imagine them still disoriented from the ordeal..."was that really Mrs. Jarcy in those boy-type Hanes? Weird."

Yes, it is. Or was. And will be for the next few months. So I'm going to follow Jackie Warner's idea (you know from Bravo's "Workout") of Sunday being a "cheat day" and eat whatever the crap I want today. How convenient for me that today is Sunday! And then I am cracking down on all the junk I consume as well as walk anywhere/everywhere. If I need to run an errand in Skokie I'm walking and will snack on almonds and an apple. No more thunder thighs or me. They're banned until this show is over at the very least.

Obsession For Mrs. Jarcy

I've been reading a lot of depressing stuff in the paper lately. Usually I skim the paper--which means I read my horoscope and then MAYBE a few headlines--but I'm taking a writing class and we have to write jokes off the Chicago Tribune front page. Every day. And I'm sucking at this exercise or at least that's the mantra stuck on replay in my head. Oh, my poor head!

I always attribute obsessive qualities to my husband. Why? Well because he fully admits to having them. And now I see its also because focusing on his crazy behavior prevents me from exploring my own. They are, unfortunately, present and accounted for. This might also be why I can talk myself out of doing things that will be good for me like yoga or socializing with others. I get to a place where all I want to do is sleep or watch "Cold Case Files." It doesn't happen all the time, in fact, most would say I am very social and generally fun. But if I'm stuck in that place there is just NO escaping. Believe me, I have tried. Some folks are like, "Just give yourself a pep talk and you'll feel better."

Well guess what, I can't! It just doesn't work that way for me!! Telling me to just snap out of it is like telling a legless man to walk!!! Or a fish, go tell a fish to walk! FISH CAN'T WALK!

So yeah, I have a few obsessive qualities. Nothing that requires a meds script for the time being but definitely flaring up from the stress of attempting funny for this writing class. And perhaps the worst of it is that I have the ability to talk myself out of being funny. I can start with comedic gold and tinker and adjust so much that the joke ends with a thud. I can even come up with 5 thuds for 5 different jokes based off one news item. It is amazing how I do this. Tonight for class I read a monologue about immigration. My initial monologue was upbeat, carried away and filled with fun! Three days later I had completely adjusted it so it was the most serious and unfunny item one could hear. In fact, tears could have been generated from my monologue, that is how GOOD I was at making it unfunny. As I finished reading aloud I could feel the heaviness that lingered in the room and within myself so without thought I burst into maniacal cackling. They thought it was part of the monologue. And everyone laughed they're asses off. Or I scared the SHIT out of them and laughing with me was way better than glaring at me. Come to think of it, they could have just been laughing at how weird the laugh felt at the...

Ah, you see? Obsessive thoughts. The above paragraphs speak for themselves I think. This is what happens to Mrs. Jarcy. I pray reading some Harry Potter will help it all go away.

Man Boys Attack Earth

Can someone please, please, PLEASE tell me why there are grown men zipping around the city on little kid dirt bikes and skateboards??!

It's an epidemic. I've seen several of them over the last month. And these are men, I'm not talking late teens or even early 20's. I'm talking 34, maybe even 43 years old. They're not just like big punks either. I imagine them riding off to their Wrigleyville graphic design office when I see them during the day. At night I'm wondering if they're en route to a date and the date has had to cab it. Head for the hills, sister! This one will be riding his 9 year old Huffy to the hospital while you drive yourself to deliver your first born! Toys purchased for the child will be confiscated for his own use, that is a promise! Now go find yourself a nice grown man who drives a Honda...hup to it!

That said, if there were an adult-size big wheel I would be the first to purchase. Those things are way too fun!

Fake Bake With Fakes

The most self-absorbed show on earth is here.

And I love/hate it. Either way I'm watching it.

Crabby Pants Is Taking Your Calls

Hello!

So I had a really crappy exchange with someone working a B&B reservation line this morning. The kicker was that I didn't instigate it or at least not on purpose. In fact, I maintained a level of calm that I normally do not possess. I was proud of myself. But I still did something that was incredibly wrong-- I asked about an inn that apparently is no longer part of their group AND yet still listed on the website. He told me I was mistaken. He was wrong, it was still listed and I asked him to wait while I found it. And then the kid got so annoyed with me that he said, "You know what, we have NO reservations for you." And then he hung up!

This all happened in less than 60 seconds so I'm not sure how annoying I could have been in such a short amount of time. Apparently enough to hang up on me almost immediately. Don't you dare ask questions on an 800 number or you'll be asking for a beating! I've been paranoid all day now, as if I did something wrong when I know I didn't. I was put in charge of securing this reservation for my folks so imagine my horror when I get banned from using the service! Thankfully I emailed and someone else--a boss--has been helpful and apologized. Although I'm still afraid to ask for the desperately needed reservation. AHHHH!

I feel like we're so quick to jump down some one's throat or put one in his/her place. I'm not excluding myself, I'm guilty of it too. Imagine if we all listened to the person we were helping as opposed to bulldozing them the moment they opened their mouth. Naw, that sounds stupid. We've all been watching way too much reality TV. That's who is at fault. We all think we get time in the confessional on Real World/Top Chef/Survivor after some idiotic, self-absorbed meltdown.

Grrrrrr.....

Four Confession Friday

I have a fantasy that I cannot shake.

It involves Mr. Jarcy and I moving to New York City. Well it not only involves moving there, it simply is the fantasy.

I don't know why but it has taken over lately. And I still love my home in Chicago. Mr. Jarcy and I have never lived outside of these Illinois borders, it just seems like we should break free some day, ya know? I've been surveying our home and mentally throwing stuff out...clothes we'll never wear again, vases left over from flower gifts, books, etc. Sometimes the fantasy has the cats coming with us and other times they're pawned off on relatives. Naw, they have to come, I'm way to dependant upon them. I've shopped around for an apartment that will be 1/3 of our Chicago's size for 3 times the rent. And I'm okay with that.

Yep, I'm moving. We're moving. For now it just exists in my head but maybe that's just the beginning.

Chit Chat Chatter

I'm noticing something about myself...

I sure like to talk when Mr. Jarcy is around. Like a lot.

I'm gabby regardless but in the last few days I've noticed it more. Today I met my new neighbor who just moved back to the city and is beyond excited to be here. She talked for minutes without taking a breath and I felt kind of wiped afterwards! Very nice woman, can't wait to see her more...but I was hoping she'd slow down with the words after awhile.

I'm also wondering if I'm not really getting to the point--or a point for that matter. Last night I gave this long winded explanation of how and why I made iced tea. I told Mr. Jarcy all about boiling water and determining how many tea bags went into the boiling portion before adding cold water after brewing. On and on and on I went. Believe me, anyone else might have simply walked off in the other direction. But not Mr. Jarcy. No, no, he listened and even asked questions. It seemed like we were on the same page.

This morning Mr. Jarcy asked my what the brown liquid in the new pitcher might be. Throughout my entire blah, blah, blah of making tea I somehow missed the most direct and obvious points which were (1) I made tea, and (2) it's in the fridge in that new container.

From now on I'm applying the idea of economy of words to all interactions. Except for possibly this blog.

If I Ever See US Weekly Again It Will Be Too Soon

Now listen, I am obsessed with celebrity gossip just as much as the next gal. In fact, I am even more so. I peruse Perez Hilton and Pink Is The New Blog as if my life depends on it. But here is the celebrity bullshit that even I cannot handle. The Paris Hilton incarceration press coverage is a given, even children living in third world villages are sick of her shit.

1. Jessica Simpson just lost close to 25 lbs! WOW, isn't that great!?? Yeah, except that this is a top story every few months! It's called yo-yo dieting and severely unhealthy. At least I keep my solid 25 lbs on.

2. Just how many preschools do the Jolie-Pitt kids attend? Every week they seem to be in a new country and, therefore, a new school. Last month they were in Prague and now I see photos of a doting Brad Pitt dropping them off somewhere in NYC. Am I the only one thinking this jet-set lifestyle could afford not only a private plane but also a private tutor? Seriously.

3. The incessant "baby bump" watch when stars wear baggy dresses. Are they pregnant or just photographed at an unflattering angle???? OH GOD, WHAT IS TRUTH?!

I'll be the first to sign up for the Fafarazzi fantasy league again but right now I just cannot take it.

Strength In Libations

You know what? The weather is too friggin' nice to blog that much. I was looking back over my months of blogging and, like most hobbies I start, was way more into it in the beginning. That said, it is also GORGEOUS outside and, therefore, have been making the most of it. Over the course of the winter my ass has become as big as the size of our national debt. I just can't have that. So I've been walking my way to slimmer buns. Right now I want some cake super bad, thank god we don't have any. It's also a blessing that Scooter's frozen custard store closes in 10 minutes. There's no way I can get there in time. I guess I'll just have to drink more white wine. See, I can always find a way to NOT lose weight.

Speaking of drinking, I think I'm going to start attending AA meetings. No, no, I don't have any intention to quit drinking alcohol. I love and need it way too much. However, I did notice attendants waiting outside their meeting place and it appears AA is no longer for old, pickled and wrinkly folks. There were a bunch of young and sexy men there, almost as if it were gearing up for happy hour. I am perfectly happy with Mr. Jarcy but if things ever go south I know where I'm headed first and it won't be the bar!

On that note, I think I'll have just one more glass of wine and then pass out for the night. My busy day of puppy nannying reconvenes tomorrow...afternoon. After a leisurely lunch. Yeah, I hate me too.

Pisces

My horoscope for the day is the following:

"Today is not a good day to move, whether literally or figuratively. Enjoy where you are."

This was text messaged to me as I was scanning apartment listings in other cities. Do you think it was okay to just research today? Or does that fall under the figuratively category? I can say I have enjoyed where I am today but look forward to a new literally and figuratively. I've never really moved somewhere new. I am not counting the various apartments I've lived in as they are all situated in Illinois. What happens when one moves to a new city? Do you get to reinvent yourself? I hope so. I have a few habits I'd like to ditch here in Chicago. I'd also like to have more toned arms, I hope they replace these old ones the second I arrive in the new city.

I better get back to craigslist...

Crabby Driver!

I have been really crabby behind the wheel today and it is not my fault. Too many assholes in their big SUV's being jerks. Lakeview neighborhood is CRAWLING with overly aggressive and anxious drivers. I am quickly becoming one of them except that I don't have a car that encourages this behavioral response. I drive a 2001 Mercury Sable that my in-laws passed down to me. I can be a hot head but my car make and model doesn't allow for me to be as big an idiot as I'd like.

I have a solution. And my solution is breaking from my environmentally friendly obsession as of late.

A person should be forced to drive a car that balances their personality/energy out. We should all be confident AND ALSO calm behind the wheel. Therefore, a big beast of a man who wants to plow over me should not be allowed to drive a big vehicle! No, no, no...instead he gets to drive a Mini cooper. Maybe even an ancient Volkswagen bug, it's completely dependant upon how big of an ass he. On the other hand, meek women with serious self-esteem issues ARE the ones who would be allowed to drive big trucks. They need to boost.

See? Who can really argue with this logic. Problem solved.

Bug Assistant

I remembered recently another job I've done. In one of my earlier posts I shared about a list of about 40 others I've worked and they range from beer tent attendant to fish breader. And now I've remembered perhaps the craziest of them all...

Bug exterminator's assistant.

Or was the title First Assistant to Exterminator? Well the title was whatever my dad's friend, Bugs, decided. Bugs was a bug exterminator. Likely nickname for him then, huh? I don't even remember what his real name was. For all I know his name was legally Bugs. He was a regular at my dad's tavern while I was growing up and during the summertime he paid me to help him do some pest prevention by spraying deadly chemicals all over the outside of nursing homes and a country hospital. I was probably the worst assistant a big man could have for this job. I am 5'2.5" tall and weighed about 110 lbs, 16 years old. Just the spitting image one congers up when visualizing a bug killer, huh?

There was a huge vat of killing juice--for lack of a better term--stored in the back of the truck and attached to it was a long hose. My job was to drive the truck at 2 mph along side the building while Bugs sprayed the killing juice all over the outside walls. That was my strong suit which meant I never crashed into anything. Bugs routinely would take over when I seemed to get the truck too close or something. I remember spending more time watching than completing this task.

My other duty was to navigate the hose while the truck was parked. Bugs would pull the hose around the building and I was to make sure it didn't get snagged on anything, else it would burst open spewing chemical death everywhere. This too happened often. One time it snapped open and pooled in the corner of a nursing home's sidewalk. I stood there desperately flagging down Bugs who was yards and yards away. He grabbed the top of his pants and raced towards me to turn off the machine. His beer belly was flopping all over, he seemed to be equipped with his very own vat! As we drove away once we'd completed the job I looked out and saw an elderly woman pushing another elderly person's wheelchair right through the pool of chemical. Oh dear god, I thought, at least they're already 100 years old.

After my "assisting" duties were over, Bugs would drop me off at home to clean up. He too would go home and shower. Then we'd go out for an early dinner. It sounds like a date but it was strictly platonic. Bugs just loved to eat I think. And he didn't have kids so maybe I was really playing the role of his teenage daughter on those days, who knows. Then he'd drop me off at home again and pay me $40.

Most. ridiculous. job. ever.

Now I get paid to play with puppy dogs all afternoon.

http://mrsjarcy.blogspot.com/2007/03/help-me-help-you.html

Baby Spider Love

I made friends with a baby spider this weekend. As the previous post implies, I tend to at times get stuck in my apartment and only leave if I have to. It's not even like I don't enjoy the outdoors because I love it. But I don't always want to exert effort and seek out a group to hang with.

So a baby spider crawled up to me the other day when I was taking a bubble bath. I usually do not like insects or arachnids (because they're different right?) but this little guy was kinda cute. And I was alone, or was it lonely? Either way, we met. He kept creeping down to the water's edge which initially worried me and then annoyed me. What was the deal with this little guy? Was he trying to die? He was close to it. I made certain not to splash any water on him as I exited my bath and then looked back to make sure he was safe. I hadn't disrupted him at all. Good good. Then I turned my head again for a few seconds and looked back yet again to make sure he was safe.

He wasn't.

He was all curled up and mangled amidst the bubbles. I thought for sure he was dunzo and even shed a tear over him! There are a million bugs of all types living in the walls of homes and I am not opposed to the idea of killing them when they venture out into my territory. But this guy was special and I was pissed that he had been so stupid and careless!

Mr. Jarcy came home late at night from work and I relayed my story. He immediately felt guilt over working so much because his wife had decided a baby spider would make a lovely companion. He also said he wasn't so sure the guy was dead. Perhaps he had balled himself up for protection. I'm fatalistic so I disagreed. He was sure as dead.

The next morning I ran to the bathroom before Mr. Jarcy started a shower and guess what??! He was alive! My little friend was alive after all! Oh joyous day! I made Mr. Jarcy scoop him up and transfer him outdoors. I pray one of my big, burly neighbors don't step on him.

Now if one of those million-legged bugs come racing through the living room he will be toyed with by the cats and then I will kill him. Not sure why this double standard exists. Maybe if its a baby one I'll spare him too.

I'm Craving Shrimp Again, Happy Memorial Day Observed!

Cat 1: Do you realize she watched 6 hours of a PBS series on Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln yesterday while all the neighbors were out back barbecuing?

Cat 2: Yeah, she's not always the most social, is she? She's also been highly active in the middle of the night and then sleeping til noon.

Cat 1: Are we sure she's not a cat like us? I think I noticed whiskers sprouting from her upper lip.

Yikes!!!

Things that terrify Mrs. Jarcy these days located in Wrigleyville (in no particular order):

• The drunks that take over Clark and Addison (the center of Wrigleyville). It begins around 8pm Friday and this weekend won't let up until 8am Monday. It is disgusting which is a lot coming from me since a) the desire to drink excessively is part of my DNA code and b) I graduated from Illinois State University with a degree in drinking.
• A huge Virgin Mary statue chained to someone's porch and residing in their front yard. No religious idol/symbol/deity should be chained. Period.
• Skinny jeans everywhere I turn. This fad must die and soon.
• The dude who insists on frequenting the theater I work at wearing a bathrobe and towel over his clothes. The towel is draped over a humongous backpack filled with god only knows what.
• Strollers. There are so many and none smaller than a semi.

Someone send help ASAP! We are all in serious trouble if the above breaches in humanity continue.

1/2-Mails

Isn't it weird when someone sends out an email but only gives half of a story? I call these 1/2-mails and find them extremely irritating.

An old friend recently sent me an email stating he's selling his truck. This is not a close friend. In fact, I haven't actually seen this guy in person in probably 4 years. And he bounces around in life--one minute he's an airline baggage handler and the next he's a financial advisor. The only thing I sort of know about this truck is that he slept in it one night while tracking his ex-girlfriend (which is called stalking and scares me). So he sent me and the remaining 279 others under his "contacts" list this message announcing he's hoping to sell his stalking truck. Then he gave a picture of the truck and his asking price. And then he wrote, "Can't wait to drive my free ugly van!"

Free ugly van?!

Wait a minute, there are many, many details missing from this email and I'm not talking about the truck he's selling. This is such a tease! Why/how is he getting a free ugly van? Is he in a band? But they wouldn't give him a free van. Did he win it in one of those vehicle contests you see at the register at Perkin's and IHOP? He'd still have to pay the taxes though. Is he now a driver for FedEx? I didn't realize you took those vehicles home with you at night. I cannot figure out why he gets a free--albeit ugly--van. And I've been down this road with him before. I'll reply to the email asking all the obvious questions and he will either not reply or send out another mass email about the damn truck he's still selling. I'll have to wait until the next email he sends out which will be along the lines of, "Hey, I have 4 tickets to Little River Band, anyone want them for $100?" This is our little dance.

He's not the only one who does this, who sends out these 1/2-mails.

Another friend of mine sent an email out to friends with the opening line, "Well, my husband is now out of surgery and doing very well." The problem was NOBODY knew he even was having surgery! And that is a pretty terrifying 1/2-mail to get if you ask me. It gives the impression that the surgery was an unexpected. An emergency! Well it wasn't. The whole thing was planned and, therefore, we all should have been told that in a prior message or the one telling us he was in the clear. For some reason I didn't even get the 1/2-mail which is a whole other rant.

I will admit that my stories can get pretty lengthy (this one case in point). I'll be explaining a flight from Shreveport to Dallas that will include what brand of shoes the flight attendant was sporting. I'll even tell you what song I was thinking about (not even listening to) as I noticed the shoes. I can't help it, I am a stickler for detail. It can be annoying to those I'm engaging in conversation as well as to me. It's as if I have an illness and that illness is the inability to leave any fact or emotion out of a story. However, I think it's better to have too many details as opposed to the above examples.

Fair Weather Friend

Well today I am happy to be a Chicagoan. Shocking since it was just yesterday I was moping about the devastating truth that I am back from Floridian beaches. Today is the kind of day that makes living in Chi-town wonderful though! It was warm, sunny, packed with Cubs fans for the day game, etc. Usually the Cubs chaos drives me nuts but not today. Today I enjoyed it.

I even enjoyed the incessant interacting one must do while shopping at Trader Joe's. This is atypical behavior for me indeed! I tried to get a job there once and maybe I'll try again some day. I had the impression that bagging groceries and stocking shelves WITH benefits would be perfect for me. They thought otherwise. A thirty-something married woman must not be as reliable and worthy as the 19 year old girl with purple hair who skips through the aisles. Ah well.

I am now going to enjoy a glass of my cheap TJ's wine. Oh and I've also decided I want a degree in Spanish. My new fantasy job is translator and interpreter. Fun, huh? I wonder how long this will last...

What IS The Point Of Vacation Anyway?

Hi!

I went on vacation. I walked along a beach, I swam in a pool, I drank lots of Corona...it was lovely. I felt really good. I love, love, love warm weather and I love, love, love my best friend. A trip with those two things is wonderful.

Here's what I did most while in Floria:
1. Ate outdoors
2. Swam
3. Ate indoors
4. Observed everyone else staying at the condo building.
5. Determined which condos have hurricane shutters and what type.
6. Planned out what next I would eat.

Here's what I've judged myself for NOT doing while in Florida:
1. Putting my travel yoga mat to use. It didn't even leave my suitcase!
2. Swimming to the point of exhaustion. My desire for Corona was stronger.
3. Eating as healthfully and minimally as possible. My ass now it's own.
4. Journaling my brains out and ending up with a best-selling memoir.
5. Meditating daily so I could still be in a state of Zen.
6. Applying SPF 3000 sunscreen instead of just SPF 30. That sun was fierce!

See?! I blew it! I swear, I've come home crazier than I was when I left. I need to go find some string cheese to consume now to feel better. Maybe I'll try to walk off my newly plumper butt while I snack.

I Don't Have The Clap

I was just perusing craigslist's jobs section because I'm obsessed with looking for more dream jobs. The obsession mainly involves LOOKING, not actually PURSUING. It's what I do. And I wish someone would finally pay me to do it. I've gotten really, really good at it over the years.

Now this ad stopped me in my tracks...

Can you make your booty clap? Are you willing to be on film?

If so, contact us.

Please include a head shot and a full body picture (preferably front and back). We only work with talented professionals. We will explain more after we have screened out the fakes and the phonies.

I'm at a loss on this one. REALLY? YOU WANT TO KNOW IF MY BOOTY CLAPS?!!? AND IF IT DOES...THAT'S A GOOD THING?! Look, I'm too sexually repressed and/or naive to know if my booty claps. And if it does clap, then nobody gets to find out. There is no clapping sound emitting from my ass when I run or dance so I'm content. If it did, I would not be happy.

And then what does the line about screening out the "the fakes and the phonies" mean? Who or what constitutes as a fake or phony? Fake personality? Phony butt implants? I have no clue.

I am half tempted to inquire now. I want to know if I can pass the test or deemed a fake booty clapper.

The Why Vacation

Have you ever noticed how many of us have excuses for going out of town as opposed to just leaving for a little break? Now granted I do travel here and there for a job so people wonder whether I'm headed to Pittsburgh for pleasure or money. Makes sense. But even if I say a pretty cool destination (sorry Pittsburgh) the first question folks ask is, "Why?" I could say Cabo San Lucas and they'll want to know why. Why not??

Mr. Jarcy and I went to New York City for a few days and a handful of people asked if we were going to be auditioning for anything while we were out there. So now I get to ask WHY!? Auditioning for agents or shows? Well, no, we weren't. And when I stated that, no, we were just going they seemed perplexed. We just decided to have a long weekend and visit some friends. People go there to visit all the time!!! And then I actually felt a little guilty that we weren't doing that. Not that I wanted either of us to audition, just that it seemed to disappoint the person I was talking with.

Destination weddings, fertility vacation packages, divorce getaways...Do Germans have so many labels attached to their holidays? I bet they don't. They just take time off because they are given six weeks of vacation time. We, on the other hand, DO have to attach it to some reason/excuse because we're lucky if we get three weeks. And I am easily guilty of this which may be why I get asked about the nature of my trip. I did a two week Spanish immersion program in central Mexico once because it seemed like I could get a few tasks completed at the same time--vacation, continuing education for my job, learn a new skill. It's not that easy to go away and...well just go away because you want to! Poor us.

Biotech Chemicals and Maritime

Biotech
Chemicals
Maritime

Did you know that these above fields are occupation options to choose from in describing one's self on Blogger? I find this extremely weird. Along with the standards like "accounting, education and marketing" are those bizarre options above. I don't mean to offend here, I'm simply naive I guess. I didn't even know what maritime was referring to (anything relating to the sea apparently). So does that include a cruise director as well as coral reef preservationist? And how many people work in chemicals? That scares the hell out of me to think there are enough people in a chemicals field to warrant their own category. "Biotech?" Uh, alright.

Equally strange is that "Entertainment" is not a category. I don't think "Health" of "Fitness" are either. "Pet Care" is definitely not an option. And so I am not sure what career to choose for my profile besides "not specified."

I have spent a good chunk of my life OBSESSED with careers so it is interesting to me that biotech, chemicals and maritime are ones I have never even known existed. And if those are options then why aren't careers like beauty? There are millions of manicurists out there pissed off because fashion has it's own category! And what about people working in cremation and funeral services? Where's their frigging category!??! The possibilities are endless here!

Travel? Yes Please!

After 3 days in a row of air travel, I am not feeling so hot. My head feels like it's still flying over Ohio at 30,000 feet. Yuck. While I may not feel so great physically, I feel fantastic otherwise. I get BORED at home, even if I'm completely swamped with obligations. It's weird but traveling gives me a sense of worth. As someone who struggles with self esteem on a daily basis (I know, so pitiful right?) it is truly bizarre how a trip to anywhere can lift my spirits. While I think Pittsburgh--downtown and surrounding areas-- is really quite lovely, this is the view I saw from my hotel room...



Blah, nope. Ah well, it's a weird time of year and stuff is just starting to grow back. So I can excuse the outdoor landscape but here's what I saw inside my room...

Oh yum, yum! What better way to spend an evening away from home than enjoying a six pack of Bud. Alone. In a hotel room. Alone. Bud.



Clearly I am not this ad's target market. It's weird to me that Holiday Inn seems so thrilled with this offer. It's not simply written in a room service menu, no, no--it has it's very own table promo just like the children's zoo. Where's the promo offering a six pack of beauty goodies? You know, lotion, eye pillow, body scrub, etc. Now that would be worth it. I might even be enticed by a six pack of import beer. Believe me, just spend one or two nights in a hotel with a star rating above 2 and you will become a travel snob. It doesn't have to be the fancy shmanciest place in all the land but a great bed and equally great toiletries offering does the trick. A six pack of beer is nothing compared to a bottle of red wine, cheese/fruit plate and plushy bath robe--that trip was great! Of course the view from that place was not the above of a Holiday Inn outside Pittsburgh, it was this...


Aha! There we go. See, even overcast skies can't dampen this landscape (although the shopping centers popping up everywhere don't help it). Those are the trips I wish I never had to return home! One of these days I'll just send for my husband and cats and we'll live out our days in hotel bliss. Room service every day please! Replenish my shampoo and shoe polish every day please! Plushy bath robe...you get the idea.

That wasn't my original point though. Yes it is wonderful to stay in a nice hotel and I love it. But I am also more than satisfied with my not so great hotel room outside of Pittsburgh. And my tiny, tiny room in New York City wasn't half bad either. I think I missed my calling as a roadie...

Springa!

Hi! I went away for the weekend--Mr. Jarcy and I went to New York City. It was lovely. And exhausting. Granted Mr. Jarcy and I were up and out very late each night but we took naps every day while we were there. It was kind of funny. There's just so much around you at all times that we were reduced to toddler stage and needed breaks. I am very in touch with my inner toddler and I'm sure Mr. Jarcy would agree. Like any toddler, I have things that set me off. Things like long lines, hunger, fatigue, uncomfortable clothing and the inability to locate my Vaseline Lip Therapy. So yes, naps were needed and I wore the same jeans three days in a row with dry lips.

Well I am now going back to the airport...Pittsburgh awaits my arrival. I'll be giving myself a Benadryl in a moment here, it's my new flying "cure." It makes me drowsy and chill enough without completely knocking me out like a Xanax. My travel partners already help carry my luggage but I think they may draw the line at carrying me.

Bye!

I've Been Replaced

Creepy the Cat is still being medicated--she takes 1/4 of a Prozac tablet daily. She is still miraculously calm and content. It's like this poor animal has been needing something to take the edge off her entire life. I've gotten to sleep through the night for an entire week now. She doesn't make god awful howling sounds throughout the day for no apparent reason. She is not in dire need of my lap the moment I sit down. She's not begging for food all hours of the day. She hasn't really sat on me much at all now. Mr. Jarcy is more than satisfied with this medication intervention.

I, on the other hand, am struggling.

I'm now faced with my own co-dependency issues and it hasn't been pretty. I wanted her to be more self-sufficient for sure but now she doesn't seem to need me at all! I spent hours watching a "Law and Order: Criminal Intent" marathon the other day and usually that is a WE activity--meaning me and Creepy--as opposed to a ME ONLY activity. Take away the purring lap cat component and the activity makes me a lazy dud. Before I could pass it off as "bonding with my cat" time. Nope, not now. Now I'm the loser with no plans. I used to be able to summon her from any point in the house and she could not run to my beckon call fast enough. Now? Well now she just ignores the call. I must admit I'm a little heart broken! She used to be so talky...okay, she meowed A LOT. She still meows only the frequency has gone down drastically. I feel like a mother who's kids have left for college.

Mr. Jarcy says he knew this would happen. He's spent enough time observing our dysfunctional relationship to know I would experience feelings of abandonment and loss. If I'm like this with a cat I shudder to think how I'll behave with children.

Sweet Tooth Out For Seafood

God damn it, I'm craving shrimp again.

Yum.

My Cat Takes Prozac...She Asked For It, I Promise

Mr. Jarcy and I put Creepy the Cat on Prozac. Nope, not a joke. Actually Creepy's vet put her on Prozac once she understood the hell little kitty was putting us through. For those of you judging me right now, all I can say is that you've never lived with Creepy the Cat. She's been a ball of anxiety since the day I brought her home and it finally got to the point where one of us was needing to be medicated. I'm glad it's her and not me. I am tempted to take the other 1/2 of her dosage though, I won't lie. But as long as Creepy gets Prozac, life feels like we're ALL taking Prozac. It is truly amazing and I have gotten to sleep straight through the night for almost a week now! That hasn't happened in 7 years which is how long Creepy has been in my possession.

I wish we all took Prozac. I'm not sure what the world would look like without anxiety and depression but I'm interested in finding out. I might start a campaign to install gumball like Prozac dispensers in all schools, libraries and Starbuck's. I figure everyone goes into at least one of those places on a daily basis, right? Sadly I'm guessing libraries are not frequented nearly as much as Starbucky's but it could be a way to lure folks back in to them! People would tearfully drag themselves into the library for their Prozac and then mosey their way through non-fiction and periodical sections. I think I'm on to something.

In other news, I have been ill. Ill like I feel I may cough out one of my badly scarred lungs ill. I get this way like 4 times a year and I'm such a wreck both physically and emotionally from it. Mr. Jarcy, on the other hand, has never been sick. I think he might be immortal or not of this planet. Sometimes I wish we could trade a few genes as I've been doled out the "runt" genes.

Our other cat, Fatty, has asthma. She wheezes and now so do I. Maybe I can just share my inhaler with her instead of buying one just for her use. I think the Jarcy household is single-handedly keeping the drug companies afloat. It's like our very own pharmacy here. I wonder how much schooling I would need to become a pharmacist...

Wordaholic

I have gotten myself into a bit of trouble here. No, I'm not pregnant with another man's child but it's almost as damaging...I'm addicted to wordaholic.

Wordaholic is a game I found while looking at Yahoo from my phone. I can't find it online from the computer actually so it must have a different name. Weird, I know. Anyway, I'm obsessed with it which is why it is called wordaholic. I must not be the only one who's fallen so hard. Basically there are 4 words listed and then you start making new words out of each. Here's an example...

Eyeball:
eye
ball
bye
yell
lye

Ooh, oh, here's another example!

Benefited:
fit
been
teen
fiend
bend
tend
den
dent

And so on and so on! Oh god, I cannot stop!!!!

Apparently there are at least 60 words you can make from the single word "benefited." Who knew? Not me. But now that I do it is all I think about. WARNING!!! Do not play this game right before bed. Two nights now I have not been able to sleep soundly because my brain is way too occupied with generating more words. And oddly enough I seem to come up with more when I'm not looking at the word. Now I'm even looking at signs on the street and changing those words into others. Ahhh!

There are worse addictions, this if for sure. But give me just a little more time and I'm certain I can provoke the need for therapy with this incessant need for wordaholic. Hmmm, wait a minute...

Wordaholic:
word
hoard
draw
cow
car...

Grrrr....

Things that are making Mrs. Jarcy disgruntled today:

• Creepy the cat's need for constant attention at 4 am. And 5 am. And 6 am...
• A course white hair I found on the top of my head amidst the all brown ones.
• Crazy Cubs fans invading my neighborhood.
• Inevitable vet visit Friday morning to "cure" Creepy the cat. One of us needs anxiety meds and surprisingly it is not me.
• Inevitable and expensive salon visit to conceal course white hair with dye. I will not age gracefully as long as I'm under the age of 60.
• Inevitable and irritating afternoon of navigating around drunken Cubs fans. Yesterday one of them tried to trade me the dog I was walking for some cheap ass blanket. His friends thought this to be hilarious. Oy.

No amount of yoga, meditation or heavy drinking will fix the above issues. Grrrr!!!

Anyone Have An Extra $30 Million Lying Around?

Isn't he cute? He has a pet dinosaur! Awwww!

I love animals. You may have noticed all the pictures and videos on this site. I can't help it, I am obsessed! I have two real cats and two imaginary dogs. That's correct, the dogs are not real except for in my head and now Mr. Jarcy's head. I've talked about Frankie and Eddie--one is a Pomeranian and the other a chihuahua--so often that he now owns two pretend pups as well. The real cats are more than a handful so any pets beyond them will have to be imaginary. Until I have my elephant and rhino sanctuary at least. Did I mention I want to have an elephant and rhino sanctuary before? Well I do. And then I will have all sorts of other rescued animals residing there like wolves and chickens (separate living quarters of course). I'm not sure how I will financially support this endeavor which is why it doesn't currently exist.

Some folks may think I'm a bit overzealous with my love but I don't care. I've never known an animal who has let me down or not provided me with hours of entertainment. And they're great cuddlers. Well, I'm guessing I won't be able to cuddle the sanctuary animals or else I might wind up disfigured. I'll love them from a distance.

Bring Out The Candles!

After yesterday's marathon post, I have just a few, simple words to say...

Happy Birthday Jeff Griggs!

That is all for today. Goodbye.

Please Pass The Shrimp/Valium Cocktail

I'm craving shrimp cocktail lately. CRAVING! And I'm not sure why. I haven't eaten shrimp since "The Shrimp Pad Thai Incident" back in the summer of 1998. That was my initiation into the horrific world of food poisoning and I've never forgotten. I looked like a leper and I'm not joking. Every blood vessel in my face burst from puking and I looked worse than a character of "Angel." (God I miss that show). Anyway, back to my history with shrimp. I used to LOVE it when I was a kid, then I didn't care about it, then I sort of liked it and tried it and then it made me ridiculously ill in 1998! As a result, I have steered clear of shrimp for nine years. You see, I'm not the type of person who gets knocked off the horse and then just gets back on. Oh no, no...I'm the type who gets knocked off, whimpers about getting knocked off and then flees the scene completely. After a nine year hiatus, I'm still not convinced I should get back near the horse. I mean shrimp. Whatever.

About a month ago I started fantasizing about SHRIMP! Why? Why now?! It's the most bizarre thing and, NO, I am not pregnant. I do know, however, that I am obsessed with plotting out various stores I can hit up for shrimp. So far I've come up with Treasure Island, Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, Jewel, Dominick's and possibly 7-Eleven. Do you think Citco sells shrimp? I could fill my car with gas AND buy shrimp. Or maybe Dunkin' Donuts!? I'd like the shrimp cocktail and an apple fritter to go, please!

On an either directly related or totally separate front, I have been feeling weird and by weird I mean blue. That's right, Mrs. Jarcy gets depressed from time to time. And it's really no fun but that is obvious. People either feel the same way and can be of no help or have never felt that way and can be of no help. I'm over-generalizing and it's one of the symptoms--everything is an extreme. So I plaster a smile on my face in public--fooling no one at all really--and change the subject if at all possible or hibernate in my home until a loved one lures me back outside. It sucks!

Tonight I had to break down and--get this--actually do something to make myself feel better. There's nothing better than a good wallow when you're blue, nothing! But after enough people ask you if you're familiar with THE SECRET you realize, why yes, I am familiar with the secret. And my secret is yoga. I had to drop all other evening plans and make a mad sprint to the yoga temple. That's correct, it is a temple. And it is lovely. It is quiet and peaceful and sorta hokey and I want to live there. For nearly two hours we "restore" in various yoga poses atop a nest of blankets and props. The teacher walks around and tucks everyone in with more blankets. And we breathe deeply as opposed to the "oh shit I think I may go crazy" breathing experienced throughout the day (I say "we" for it can't just be me!). She even sings to us in this lullaby sort of manner. I swear, I feel like I'm back to infancy when the most I worried about was how to fit another nap into my already overbooked day of naps.

Let's recap--I'm soft spotting shrimp, battling bleakness and nesting in a temple. Hmmm...okay....awkward pause...insert smile here...Hey, have any of you heard about THE SECRET?!

My Mouth Is Requesting A New Home

So I have some problems in my mouth this week. And they are all self-inflicted. If I hurt my mouth one more time it will surely pack up and leave for good.

INCIDENT ONE
Early in the week I accidentally took out a big chunk of my lip/cheek while inhaling falafel and baba ganoush. It hurt so bad! But not bad enough for me to stop eating all together. Oh no, you can't stop eating a vegetarian combination once you've started. All week I kept making the wound worse. I re-injured my painful boo boo 6 times during one meal. 6 TIMES! All because I HAD to eat a salad and of course it was drenched in balsamic vinaigrette. I'm evil.

INCIDENT TWO
I am in love with one item from Einstein's Bagels--spinach/egg/bacon panini sandwich. This thing is amazing! I get it at least a couple of times throughout the month. Fortunately, the sandwich is always hot. Unfortunately, I'm always starving. It is physically impossible for me to not just wait a few moments before I eat the damn thing. Yesterday, I burned off a big portion of the roof of my mouth as a result. It hurt so bad! But not bad enough for me to stop eating all together. Oh no, you can't stop eating the panini once you've started. It still hurts and I keep running my tongue over it which also must be aggravating. Mr. Jarcy also confirmed I did a number on it. I opened my mouth up and he said, "Oh yeah, you did burn it off. I can see a pink spot where the skin used to be." AHHH! Somebody lock me up, I can't be trusted.

INCIDENT THREE (ON DECK)
I'm about to eat a frozen pizza. I bought the cheese and sauce variety and then topped it with green olives and red bell pepper. I hope I can just give it a moment to cool before I dig in or it will hurt so bad! But I won't stop. Oh no, you can't stop eating a green olive and red pepper pizza once you've started. I better get the first aid kit out, it could be a long night.

Three Confession Friday

I like to brush my teeth in the shower. Some people probably think that's gross. Mr. Jarcy doesn't know I do this. He's one of those people who probably thinks it is gross. It's a habit I started in college and dormitory showers are the absolute perfect place for it. If I stayed at your home I'd want to brush my teeth in your shower too. If we were showering together I'd wait until you got out and then I'd do it. I don't like an audience.

Big Fat Booty

When it comes to love, marriage and all that fun stuff, there really is one overriding rule you must adhere. A very wise woman (okay, its my mother) told me this and I've passed it on among the ranks (I mean my friends). Now I share with you (anyone who is reading):

NEVER SETTLE FOR POTENTIAL.

That's it. You can vary it up if you like with "Never marry potential," or "Never move in with potential and then financially support" but the message remains the same. All bits aside, it is easily the best advice I was ever given and implementing it can save you loads of heartache.

Now I've taken my mother's words a step further and I think you'll appreciate it:

NEVER SETTLE FOR SOMEONE

WHO WEARS A FANNY PACK.

Men sporting a fanny pack by definition fall into the "just potential" category. They can be moved into a "more than potential" bracket but not without a lot of effort on your part and even then may not be worth the trouble. This applies to women as well. With so many more stylish options out there--pocket, purse, hell even a backpack--there is no reason to don the fanny pack. So unless you are camping or hiking--and only if you are camping or hiking--fanny packs are a "just potential" accessory. I'm not being catty, don't misunderstand. In my experience, that fanny pack is simply the tip of the iceberg. There will be loads more of "just potential" quirks and red flags to follow. Let that fanny pack act as your guide, it will not steer you wrong. If there is more clarification needed on this sage advice, just drop me a line and I will be happy to assist you. And in the meantime, follow my mom's rendition because it seems a little more all encompassing.

I Miss Ruth, David and the Whole Gang

Cat 1: Is she ever going to stop crying? Jesus, it's been hours!

Cat 2: It was the emotional series finale of "Six Feet Under." Give her a break, she thinks she's a Fisher.

Cat 1: Did you just mention fish?! Yum yum. I hope she gets tilapia tacos from Burrito House to numb her pain.

Help Me Help You

Eldest Mrs. Jarcy: How's work, Mrs. Jarcy?

Mrs. Jarcy: Good...uh, good.

Eldest Mrs. Jarcy: Which job are you referring to? I know you have a handful at this time. Which job is good?

Mrs. Jarcy: Hmmm...all of them?

Eldest Mrs. Jarcy: Have you had any more thoughts on which career you'd like to pursue next?

Mrs. Jarcy: Yes.

Eldest Mrs. Jarcy: Great! What would you like to do in life?!

Mrs. Jarcy: Nothing.

Eldest Mrs. Jarcy: Nothing?

Mrs. Jarcy: Yes, nothing.

Eldest Mrs. Jarcy: Hmmm...uh, well, hmmm... Would you like some more coffee?

Mrs. Jarcy: Oh yes please!

SCENE

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ah, the stuff little girls' dreams are made of, right?! Right. While the above scene does come from Mrs. Jarcy's own life, the content is not completely in earnest. The truth is, I've held many positions in life. And that may be the root of my problem--I've enjoyed variety.

An at Random List of Mrs. Jarcy's Past and Present Modes of Employment:

• Hostess
• Voice over artist for automated phone systems
• Yoga Instructor
• Prevention Specialist for addictions counseling center
• Fish Breader (yes, I meant breader and not breeder)
• Babysitter
• Office Manager for graphic design company
• Waitress
• Office Manager for business consulting firm
• Bartender
• Coordinator of Volunteers for social service agency 1
• Caterer
• Manager of Volunteers for social service agency 2
• Box Office Attendant for a theater
• Health Educator at inner city clinic
• Corporate shows actor
• Salad and Pie Server for cafeteria-style restaurant in a mall
• Beverage Cart Girl for a golf course
• Office temp for psych office
• Dog walker/nanny
• Nonprofit Middle Manager
• Events Coordinator
• Beer Tent Saleswoman
• Gymnastics Instructor

Okay, I can't say I LOVED doing all of the above, but nonetheless, I have done them.

It is not always the case that opportunity outweighs ambition as I have previously stated. Sometimes you just can't figure out what to DO with that ambition. And in all honesty, I've met very few people who are doing what they truly love and feel is their life's calling. Maybe my calling really is to nanny a puppy two hours a day. Maybe my calling is to voice automated phone lines. Maybe I just need to pick one and make it my calling. Just pick one and do it well. Period. Enough already.

Mrs. Jarcy better do some sun salutations now before her head explodes.

When Did Moms Get So Hot?

Mrs. Jarcy doing her best Seinfeld impression--"What's the deal with all these hot moms?!"

Yesterday I strolled through my neighborhood and encountered a cluster of small children, hot nannies and equally attractive moms. The nannies you may expect to be hot because 1) they're often times au pairs and by nature au pairs are hot, 2) they're usually young and 3) they're in shape from pushing those semi-size strollers all around town. Even Mary Poppins is sort of hot. Moms, on the other hand, are a different breed. They've put their bodies through tremendous strain, dinner consists of whatever is left on junior's plate and sleep is a thing of the past. But this is not the case with the moms of today. I don't recall them being all so drop dead gorgeous growing up and today they are just that...super duper hot.

Now I do live in a neighborhood that boasts a large community of young families with tons of disposable income. There are boutiques popping up all over catering to hip moms, hip moms-to-be and children of hip moms. But these are not the only evidence to support the theory that moms are hotter than ever. There is more:

I have hot mom friends. Korn, beloved best friend of Mrs. Jarcy, just had baby number two and she sent me some pictures taken shortly after baby two was delivered. And guess what...this woman looked better after that trying ordeal than I do after two hours of primping. Sticky, other beloved best friend of Mrs. Jarcy, manages to exude hotness while trekking back to Chicago from her new home in China with two small boys in tow. Yes, two boys under the age of 6, practically two days of flight each way, without an assistant or husband...and she looks super hot. Does this defy the laws of nature? I think so.

I'm not done, there's even more: Friends who have expressed the desire to start baby making are (drum roll, please) SUPER HOT! And it is not just my perception that these ladies are hot, no, no, no! I've asked the men in my life as to their thoughts on these moms-to-be-to-be and the men unanimously agree my perception is correct. Hot actress, hot nonprofit manager, hot saleswoman, hot entrepreneur...they are every man's dream MILF in the making.

There were no MILFS in my years of growth or at least I was not at all conscious of them. Come to think of it, I don't recall dads looking so hotsy totsy either. Whatever, that's not the point. The point is I now cannot wait to be a mom. Yeah, yeah, I'll have a cute little bundle of joy to nurture and love, blah blah blah. More importantly, I too will lose my troll-like figure once and for all and join my fellow sisters in blissful MILFdom! Once considered an end to hotness, motherhood has now been shown to be just the beginning. Good work ladies, I am sold.

(Side note: Jerry Seinfeld's wife is totally hot.)

"Slim Sister" Has Taken The Lead...Whore

Mrs. Jarcy is overcome with grief for this most unfortunate circumstance cannot be...

Star Jones Reynolds is in better shape than me.

Well crap. Why god, why? Star has spent the last few years surgically altering her body, dieting and exercising and now looks better than I do. I have done very little to stay in shape unless eating only half a pumpkin loaf slice from Starbucky's counts. Now I have to add her to the list of those who are better than me. Yes, there is a list. Those who have been able to slim down and look fabulous are better than me.

So far the list is as follows:

1. Star "Slim Sister" Jones Reynolds
2. Kirstie "Almost Anorexic" Alley
3. Muffin the Dog

Muffin the Dog irked me the most. This little thing was a plump ewok at one point. I was astonished to see him one day all svelte and energetic. I asked his nun owner (yes, he was owned by a nun and a boy) what had catapulted Muffin's weight loss...could it be cancer? A bad intestinal infection? Adversity to his new senior dog food? No, she replied, he had been taken on many walks by other nuns and, therefore, lost weight! Evil little thing. I could lose 10 lbs. too if a whole community of nuns was rooting for me! I was so pissed off that I walked the 4 miles home from work that night in heels.

I might start dressing in long waist-cinching corsets and gowns from now on. Can anyone recommend a good tailor?

Can I be Jane Austen? Why not?

Mrs. Jarcy has returned! Oh what a joyful day it is indeed.

Well, well, well...it appears that Creepy the Cat and TJ the brother-in-law DID NOT hold up their end of the deal and post on my behalf. Mr. Jarcy and I were at times near a computer but I must confess I enjoyed the break from technology. My phone was rarely on and even the TV seemed repulsive. This is just one example of why I should have been born in 18th century England.

Yes, that's right, I said I should have been born a woman in 18th century England. I could be more general and say the 18th century anywhere but I fancy England so England it is. Here's why:

AIRPLANES--THESE DID NOT EXIST IN 1775.
I don't like them. You can tell me how safe I am in them and I will believe you for the most part. I've done the research--my chance of dying in an airplane is 1 in 65 million. I do yoga breathing, I call upon higher powers for protection, I grab the leg of whoever is near me, etc. That doesn't mean, however, that I enjoy being in them.

Mr. Jarcy and I had quite the experience on the way home from our desert getaway (that will be my next post). Chicago was covered in fog on Friday night as we were to land. This was the unfortunate news we received after flying in rainstorms for 3 hours. The pilot circled over the lake for 30 minutes or so and then was given the go ahead to land. Keep in mind there is no ground to be seen at any point due to this heavy fog. The pilot took us into our descent, the wing flaps came down as they always do upon landing and then unexpectedly we shot back into the sky like a rocket. The pilot then announced he had to for he could not see the runway! Let me repeat that...OUR PILOT COULD NOT LAND BECAUSE THE FOG PREVENTED HIM OR ANYONE FROM SEEING A RUNWAY! Yes, that is what happened. And I already do not like to fly. Then we circled more. We attempted to land again. The fog got worse. So we flew to St. Louis and stayed the night. The next day we boarded another plane and guess what...there was only one mile of visibility as we landed. Yes, more fucking fog. I was a mess. But we did land and now I am home in beautiful weather and able to blog to you about how I don't enjoy planes.

OTHER MODES OF FAST TRANSPORTATION--THESE DID NOT EXIST IN 1775.
While we're on the subject of planes, I must confess I don't love other fast moving things such as cars, buses, trains or motorcycles. I drive a car but get freaked out by other people driving. I'll hide it as best I can except with Mr. Jarcy. I don't always like how he drives. Sorry my love.

I LIKE TO WALK--PEOPLE DID THIS IN 1775.
I love to walk, not just like. I would love to roam about the countryside alone or with a friend or sister. Yes, to me that sounds lovely.

I LIKE HORSES--THESE ALSO EXISTED IN 1775.
Why aren't horse drawn carriages more popular these days? I would be fine if it took me 2 hours to reach downtown Chicago. And horses are pretty. There's even research on how they can help those who have experienced trauma. Don't ask me who conducted this research though, I don't know. But they are pretty.

Is it me or do all of my reasons for wanting to be an 18th century Englishwoman revolve around transportation issues? I'll come up with more. Its good to be back! Well sort of...

Warmth Awaits

Woohoo! Mrs. Jarcy is very excited to announce that she and Mr. Jarcy will be traveling for the next five days!

I am thrilled to break out of Chicago for a little rest and relaxation (or as much as one gets while visiting parents in the desert). Creepy the cat and TJ the brother-in-law have ASSURED me they will be posting on the blog while I'm away and I have no reason to doubt their capabilities. I'm excited to come back and see what they have created in my absence!

Sunshine and extremes in temperature await, toodles!

Two Confession Friday

I've been having super vivid dreams this week. I used to write them down and there's a whole section at metaphysical book stores instructing one on how to journal dreams. I'm too lazy though so I stopped.

Last night I dreamt it was my job to pick up Justin Timberlake's poop while he sang NSYNC's "Gone" to a large concert audience. Yes, that was the job. While others were lighting techs and other various roadie positions, I was the poop picker upper. And I didn't seem to mind, it seemed perfectly natural a man of his stature would need this task completed.

Is this dream one of those gems I'm supposed to write down and interpret?! Oh god, where do I begin?

Crops of the Americas

This might be the silliest thing I've ever seen. I'm zoning out here at my desk and have just noticed that the postage stamps I bought recently are titled, "Crops of the Americas." Each stamp has a different...uh crop. (What's a different word for "crop?") There is a stamp dedicated to the sunflower and sunflower seeds. Another stamp has three varieties of corn. There is the pepper stamp--only green and red made the cut. And a squash stamp-or what looks like squash to me-and then finally a stamp densely landscaped with legumes.

My question: Why?

Seriously, why is there a stamp dedicated to crops grown in the Americas? This territory called the Americas--doesn't that cover practically half of earth's land mass? (I'm not counting Antarctica because in my limited knowledge of it there is little to no land to crop.) So now I have to guess which area of the Americas squash is cropped? I really don't know, do you? I could guess Brazil but it's probably some remote island off the coast of Greenland for all I know. I live in Illinois and I've seen corn grown here but what about that black version on the stamp? Where is black corn grown? Mexico? No, not Mexico. Mexico is where some of those 50 different legumes are cropped, right?

Stamps are interesting to me and by interesting I mean practical and boring. I simply use them to mail bills and belated birthday cards. Now I'm realizing there is a whole community of folks out there who probably lobbied for the crops of Americas to be on stamps. Those people are still celebrating this victory. And then there's another community that is collecting these rare finds ("My God, have you seen how remarkable the legumes stamp turned out? I must add it to my food-inspired stamp album!") Wikipedia states that stamp collecting is an important source of revenue for small countries. Really?! Since when? If this is true then can we have a book of stamps created with all these countries displayed? Let's really make stamps educational. I'd like to see some simple algebra and french verbs conjugated as well. Or what about helpful tips like, "Add distilled white vinegar to your load of whites and laundry will come out clean and odor free!" Now that could really be helpful to someone I bet.

I have to go call the U.S. Postal Service now before one of my blog readers steals my "educational stamps" idea...

The Irish Are Disappointed In You

Everyone is running outside. We've had three days of amazing weather and by amazing I mean above 40 degrees.

The same people out running today were not able to do so this past weekend. Why, you ask? Because Chicagoans find it necessary to begin celebrating St. Patrick's Day a week early. It's more like St. Paddy's Month in these parts and the reasoning behind it is beyond me. Yesterday there wasn't a sober individual in all of Lakeview neighborhood. Everyone had goofy green hats on and stumbled down the street from one bar to the next. St. Patrick's Day actually falls on a Saturday this year, do we all realize this?! Whatever, this is Chicago and tradition is tradition--we all must drink the weekend before.

Today, however, is a different story. Everyone with legs is running outside. Yesterday was stumbling and today is now for triumphantly running.

Okay, what is happening? Now you're all just freaking me out, this is not normal! I am out and about all the time and never have I seen such mass cardio exercise taking place. Never! Is there a gas leak I'm not aware of? Did you all get memos about it at work? I don't work in an office so I didn't get the memo!

This behavior is unacceptable. Do you know why? Because it makes me feel bad about myself, that's why! There I admit it. I walked on a treadmill today--correction, I POWER WALKED--but I did not run like you which means you are the winners in this race called life. And my legs still look like tree trunks while yours resemble long, slender sticks. What I proudly counted as a workout this morning was just a warm-up in your book. Well, that's just not fair.

Oh, now this is great! A man wearing khakis and clearly headed home from a day of work is running down Leavitt Street. He has a briefcase and office appropriate shoes on but he too is running. Thanks a lot, asshole.

That's it, I've had it. I'm reporting you all to Mayor Daley. Tonight you'll need to decide if you want to be a beer-guzzling Chicagoan or a runner. All you runners need to pack up the Sauconys and sweat-resistant clothing ASAP! I've phoned ahead and Portland is expecting your arrival later in the week.

Enjoy your running out in the land of health and fitness, Mr. Khaki Pants! Us Chicagoans will be here celebrating St. Patrick's Year.

Cats are Posting on My Behalf Today

Cat 1: Why does she insist on taking our picture every 30 minutes?

Cat 2: I don't know, just go with it.

Cat 1: She needs a new hobby, I'm signing her up for tennis.

One Confession Friday

Friday is the most perfect day to bare your soul's deepest desires, demons, hopes and fears. Here's to secrets--

In 7th grade I answered collect telephone calls from an incarcerated man.

He was randomly dialing in hopes of finding some easily manipulated individual like myself. I think he was just lonely but how would I really know? He called on at least a few occasions and we talked for a substantial amount of time. He even sent me a letter with photos of himself with his daughter. So, yes, I even gave this stranger my name and home address. I don't remember why he was locked up but vaguely recall it being for a good while.

I mean, you don't go to jail for more than 8 years for accidentally running over the neighbor's cat, right?

Anyway, my mother nipped the relationship in the bud once she scanned through the month's phone bills. I'm imagining this behavior is high on the list of things you don't want to catch your children doing, along with shooting up heroin and making out with a cousin. She made me promise to never accept this man's calls ever again. With that command I answered one last call to tell him my mother was ending our friendship--it seemed like the polite thing to do after all. He agreed and that was that.

A few years ago I was home for the weekend and answered the phone. The phone never rings in my parents' home now that teenagers no longer live there. To my shock and horror, there was someone from a prison praying I would accept his collect call! I squeaked out a "No" and hung up. I never told anyone this happened. My mother has never mentioned this happens any longer and now that umpteen years have passed. Was it a fluke I was home and answered the phone? I don't know. Did the imprisoned man pass my number off to his cell mate upon his release, therefore, forever leaving my parents answering criminals' collect calls? Oh, I'm sick just thinking about it.

I pray this guy doesn't show up on my parents' doorstep some day and kidnap them. I can feel guilt over eating more than 3 cookies, imagine the guilt and shame I would endure for that.

Please Mr. Prison Friend, please just forget there was ever a "we."

Love Is In The Air

I am having an affair.

It's not a secret, Mr. Jarcy knows.

It's like nothing I've ever experienced before.

I knew I would like it but wasn't prepared for such intensity.

He's sleek and black and just so friggin smooth, I cannot get over it.

I turn him on...all the time. My needs get met over and over and over.

I didn't enter this relationship lightly. I looked around, he's the best.

He's got his shit so together, always evolving to make me happy.

My commitment to exercise is stronger than ever before.

Mere minutes with him and I am relaxed.

He lets me dress him up in hot pink.

He's the only one I trust.









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I love my baby...

Honoring Our Own

Before I delve any further into my own union with blogging as a wife, there is something that must be done. I'd like to take a few moments to honor my friends who courageously endured this crazy thing called marriage but in the end succumbed to it's demise. I have navigated the rocky road to divorce right there with them all. In return, they have asked me for nothing but privacy. As a matter of respect and the need for anonymity, I have shortened last names to just the first letter. These wives have endured enough hardship after all.

To our fallen wives of 2006, may you spread your wings and find new forms of identity. You gave it your all and that's all you could do--

• Jessica S.
• Carmen E.
• Whitney H.
• Sandra O.
• Christina A.
• Selma B.
• Britney S.
• Kate H.
• Reese W.
• Heather M.
• Heather L.
• Denise R.
• Pamela A.

If you would like your celebrity wife added to the list, please drop me a line at EmailMrsJ@gmail.com. We will honor these women together.