Jennifer Leah’s blog

Cosby Gets Crunk with Lil Jon

I bet I'm better than you at this.  In fact, I am willing to wager that I'm one of the best procrastinators on the planet.  Case in point: tonight, lacking anything more worthwhile to entertain my meager mind, I looked up old Nickelodeon theme songs on U Tube.  And what adventure it was!  I journeyed back through that magical time called the mid '80s and early '90s, into the world of Clarissa Darling, Alex Mac and SNICK. 

THEN,  my Nickelodeon carousing led me all the way to Duckburg, where I experienced the "Duck Tales" theme in no less than 4 different languages...it's awesome in Japanese which, might I add, the "Duck Tales, woo, ooo" part is sung in English.  Japan is also the only country to have a woman take the reigns and belt out this masterful tune.  Also very cool, and very enthusiastic, is the Finnish version.  The singer practically shouts the lyrics, and I know what they mean!!!  The Arabic version omits the "woo ooo" and ruins the song.  No wonder Osama is such a sick bastard.  By the way, did you know that there was a secret DT level on Mario Paint (as in the video game for Super Nintendo)?

Next stop on my journey: up to the children's department of my favorite department store, "Today's Special."  I dragged my favorite magical manequin up the escalator, said the magic words, and...hocus pocus, my manny was alive (and he looked like Gene Wilder!).  I hope that he doesn't loose his hat!

I received an invitation from the ultra-exclusive Midnight Society.  I think that I may have been the only kid who was truly afraid of the dark, especially that freaky episode with Zeebo the Clown, where that obnoxious kids steals a dead clown's nose from a funhouse.  It's like a tamer version of Stephan King's It.

It was then time to get my crayons and my pencils and draw a worm thingy on Picture Pages.  Logically, this trip could really only end one way--with Bill Cosby getting crunk with Lil John.  Time to watch Bill Cosby do a Picture Page with you!

Ever wonder what Hillary Clinton and Eva Peron have in common?  Yeah, me neither...until tonight.  I was having what I like to call a "spiritual romp," where I dance around my apt like a mad woman in my underwear, without shame or care.  It's fabulously freeing, grooving to "Dancing Queen" and singing at the top of my lungs.  I am sure my neighbors enjoy my musical romps greatly.

After I'd had my fill of Abba and various show tunes that I am too embarrassed to chronicle (yes, I am a gay man inside...try to wrap your mind around that one, I dare you), I picked up my long-forgotten Evita soundtrack on a whim.  It had been years since I'd listened to Madonna's voice triumphantly, yet mournfully, nail "You Must Love Me."  It still irks the tears from me, and not just one or two, my friends...no, I'm talking about all-out sobbing (can you say "drama queen"?). 

Once my emotional drama had passed and the moment drifted away, I was left with contemplation about Eva Peron herself.  She was adored and hated alike.  Many had their suspicions of her, which were generally well-founded, but she worked for the people she served, and at the end of the day, she was largely adored.  However any Argentinian felt/feels about "Santa Evita," there can be no doubt that she was, above all, a polarizing individual that one liked to adore, or loved to despise.  Sound familiar? 

Clinton's constituents in NY love her.  The fact that they elected her as their senator twice is evidence of that, yet a large part of the public outside of NY remain suspicious, or downright hateful.  Why is Hillary such a divisive figure, and if Hillary was Harold, would (s)he have clinched the Democratic nomination by now?  It could be that we are culturally conditioned to denounce any woman who has the potential to achieve greatness.  Men are threatened by this potential challenge to the social and political dominance that they've enjoyed for so long.  Women are afraid too...what if she wins?  There will be a woman, a woman, kicking up her high heels in the most powerful role on the planet.  The momentum is shifting to the feminine side, and ladies, we've come a long way since The Feminine Mystique. 

There has rarely, if ever, been a better time to be a woman, yet some women loathe Hillary.  Why?  They'll tell you it's because they are distrustful of her of business dealings, or because they are disgusted that she didn't toss Bill out on his little blue dress.  Maybe she did stay with Bill to gain political power--while I certainly can't adjudicate that, SO WHAT if she did?  Bill humiliated her in front of the entire world; if, by staying with his perverted ass (and I loved Bill as a president, though his personal failings were many), she could gain some political might, more power to her!  As women, we cannot play by the rules, because we didn't invent the game.  In this man's world, we have to think creatively and make our own rules to get ahead.  Yes, many people will hate us by doing so, but in order to advance, we do what we must.  The rule says to ditch your hubby if he strays--Hillary says that she'll stay with him for political gain.  Why not??  This woman is tough and will fight for los descamisados ("the shirtless ones"), just as Evita did.

A friend of mine was reading an essay penned by a notable literary critic.  Said critic lamented that feminism interrupted the harmonious works of great contemporary literary minds.  He likened it to feminism breaking into his house and crapping on his coffeetable.  (I actually do have a point here, friends--stay with me!)  We've finally arrived at a point where women are almost completely accepted within the political arena, yet there are still those who remain threatened by the growing power that women are gaining with each passing year.  These women are crapping on the coffeetables or those most resistant to change, who fear the reforms that will (hopefully) occur with a female in charge. 

Hillary will not disappoint as Nancy Pelosi has...she may not make the Rainbow Tour, but she will fight for the American people, just like Evita.  Despite controversy from both sides, Hillary will make us proud, and inspire women everywhere to make a man clean up the crap on the coffeetable.

My brother's girlfriend has decided that she is going to save the environment and thank God; I was beginning to worry that this global warming thing would get the best of us.

I love how trendy eco-friendly attitudes and practices have become.  Out of all the the trends to emerge in recent decades, this is definitely a positive one.  I do, however, resent those who feel the need to lecture me, ME, of all people, about the importance of going green.  Hello?!  I've been a member of the Green Party since 2002, thankyouverymuch, and NO, I was NOT inspired by Ralph Nader.  I was a McKeever Earth Keeper from way back (it's a Western PA thing).  So, I do know a thing or two thousand about saving our environment.  I've even switched Chewy and Magic over to environmentally-friendly, flushable wheat kitty litter that looks like crushed up corn flakes.

I do worry, however, about what will happen when this super trend begins to wane.  Will we all go back to embracing our SUV's (as if we ever stopped) and liking stinky cats' asses?  What happens if there's a backlash to this trend...an anti-green movement?  What happens if the purple movement forms, where you don't recycle on purpose, you leave the lights on when you exit a room AND run the water while you brush your teeth?  You daydream about the forests you're killing as you dispose of your old copies of The New York TImes by BURNING them--take that, ozone layer!!  (You don't need The Times, anyway, you trendy bastard--your new subscription to The Washington Post fits the purple era much more succinctly.)  Financial analysts on MSNBC will start writing books with titles like, As the Color Implies, Being Green Requires Money and You Don't Have Any and Purple Isn't Just a Color, It's a Lifestyle: An Idiot's Guide to Being Wasteful and Cheap. 

Ah, the possibilities are endless and I am thoroughly afraid.

Did I tell you that I actually met Mr. Charisma?  Did I also mention what a narcissistic, self-involved prick he is?  The man made me wait to meet him for over an hour.  Does he think he's the pope?  Then, when I finally did meet him, he proceeded to tell me about how "young" he was, in comparison to others who have reached the big 4-0. 

Make no mistake about it, kiddies, this man is undergoing one of the most intense, severe mid-life crises I have ever witnessed.  I grant you, I've only personally observed one.  My dad went through his during my first semester in college.  He suddenly became obsessed with his facial hair and experimented with a beard, then goatee.  Much to my mother's chagrin, he shaved the moustache he had worn for my entire life!  (Not to digress too much, but man, that was an awesome 'stache.  He started going it in the seventies!  It had a very Ron Jeremy look about it...eww.)

Not-quite-Mrs.-Charisma is beautiful.  Remember her?  The long term relationship that is supposed to be in its twilight?  He showed me a picture of her in his phone.  He's obviously still in love with her; he's confused and freaking out about turning 40.  He'll come to his senses, and when he does, they'll get married and "Not-Quite-Mrs.-Charisma" will get her way.

And I'll go my own way, as usual.

As I was saying to Gebs the other day, it is crucial to know whether body parts are real or faux.  We were having a particularly vibrant discussion about one of my favorite childhood flicks, "Labyrinth."  You know this movie--David Bowie stars as Jareth, the Goblin King who falls in the love with head-in-the-clouds Sarah (played by a very young Jennifer Connelly) and kidnaps her baby brother.  Sarah must make her way through the glorious maze that is the Labyrinth in order to get him back. (But why does he kidnap her brother if he's in love with her, you ask?  She asks him to...sort of.  Just watch the damn movie and don't ask questions!)

The question so ardently discussed was this: was Bowie's package in this movie real, or a sock?  It's completely in your face throughout the film.  Real man part, or fake??  Gebs and I debated this with intense fervor and it occurred to me that my life is so dull, it has degenerated to conversations about socks.  I've regressed to first grade.  I am even of the opinion that boys have cooties.  I'm so sick of, and jaded by, men, I could scream.  I'm absolutely repulsed by them all.  I don't even have any viable crushes right now.  I usually have at least a few fairy tales in my imaginary library to entertain me before I fall asleep...now, nothing.  And I'm fascinated by Davie Bowie's...hair.  Seriously, I had my very first erotic dream about DB as Jareth when I was in 5th grade.  His front teeth were pink and purple and I was making out with him in my brother's bed.  Weird, huh? 

I really don't have a point here.  I just wanted to blog about David Bowie's larger than life...hair.

I feel like I'm stuck on this, especially with so many other newsworthy events occurring ubiquitously right now, but I can't let it go.  I hate domestic violence (I realize that there aren't many who like it); any occurrence of it by a public figure must be condemned to the utmost.  Again, the Rooneys are rationalizing James Harrison's deplorable behavior of slapping his girlfriend with flimsy excuses, almost justifying his actions.

Dan Rooney's remarks in regard to the circumstances surrounding Harrison's slap:

"What Jimmy Harrison was doing and how the incident occurred, what he was trying to do was really well worth it. [Are you kidding me?!]  He was doing something that was good, wanted to take his son to get baptized where he lived and things like that. She said she didn't want to do it."  (http://www.post-gazette.com/steelers/blogngold/)

So, let me get this straight: slapping a woman is ok if your anger was justified.  The desire to baptize your child is a good reason.  And so feeding him a vegetarian diet, sending him to Catholic school and letting him watch "Dora the Explorer."  These are good reasons for domestic abuse.  Step outside the box, buddy, and you're done.  Gone.  Banished from the team.  Fighting to baptize your son...ok, as long you take an anger management class, all is well.  Slap away, my friend.

Frankly, this hypocriscy makes me sick.  A slap, a punch...it doesn't matter.  My soon-to-be ex-hubby would never raise his hand to me, though I've given him ample reason; nor would any of the men that I know act in such a disgusting and violent manner.

Dan Rooney, rid your team of this vile, abusive individual immediately and try to salvage some of the Steelers' integrity.  Make him an example, expressing clearly and adamantly that violence, especially that is directed toward a female, will not be tolerated.  No excuses.  No justifications. 

Every morning as I drive into my fair city, I pass a simple sign on the city limits that unpretensiously states, "Dignity Pittsburgh." 

Let's take it seriously, shall we?

I am happy to report that Cedrick Wilson is no longer a Pittsburgh Steeler, after having been cut from the team due to assault charges for punching his girlfriend.  I am saddened to say that, though I certainly do bleed black and gold (it's my other religion), I am disgusted by the Steelers right now--they're turning into a team of knuckle-dragging, no-brained, hair pulling thugs.  Any man who would hit a woman deserves a one way ticket to the House of Bobbitt (and we know what's on the menu there!).

As much as I thoroughly approve of the immediate, and much deserved, dismissal of Wilson, I am still quite angry about James Harrison and the fact that he was allowed to remain on the team without repuecussion for hitting his girlfriend earlier this month while they "discussed" whether or not their child should be baptized.  The long time owners of the Steelers, the Rooney family, are saying that Harrison's assault charges are different from Wilson's because he went to them immediately and "has taken responsibility for his actions."  So did Wilson, but he's gone and Harrison's not.  Why??

THEY BOTH HIT THEIR GIRLFRIENDS. 

Wilson pleaded his apologies, too, so why wasn't that enough to save him?  The Rooneys should have made an example of Harrison, demonstrating to the rest of the team in no uncertain terms that violence and abuse toward women would not be tolerated.  How is it that we live in 2008 and there are still people who are willing to look the other way when a woman is being abused?  The Rooneys must take a tougher, zero-tolerance approach to domestic violence of any kind, thereby not permitting my beloved Steelers to become of team of low lifes.

At least they aren't the Ravens!

I'm been spending some much-needed quality time with Jane Fonda lately.  I know that her exercise videos are cheesy (leopard print leotards--need I say more?), the music is flat and the hair is anything but...however, I do love them!  Jane is so much fun to hang out with, even more fun than many of my friends at the moment.

So, let's talk about my St. Patty's Day weekend. You know I live for 3/17, and it was great overall.  My dear friend Michelle from Payroll and I started drinking at 8am with some new pals from Meet-In Pittsburgh.  We watched the St. Patty's Day parade which is an AWESOME event.  I am so mad that I hadn't attended this anytime in the past 27 years!!  Political figures (Hillary Clinton!!!), local celebs (Sally Wiggin in a Chuck E. Cheese costume...it's a Burgh thing) and various dance schools are participated in one wild party!  After the parade concluded, Michelle and I headed to a local Irish bar.  Michelle left early, but I met up with Deanna (remember D?  My drinking buddy).  I "lost" a few hours in the afternoon.  All I know is, I came back to full consciousness at Starbucks with a venti soy chai in my hand and an action figure in my purse. 

D and I went to another bar/club, where I danced myself sober and D drank herself stupid.  I was stone cold sober and happy by midnight; D, on the other hand, was a drunken mess, who was sobbing into her cell phone to various men, begging them to "save" her from me, the evil friend.  We got into a horrible fight because I refused to take her to her boyfriends house--I told her to sleep at my apt instead and refused to drive 20 miles out of my way.  When Princess didn't get her way, she became irrate and beligerant.  Needless to say, I refused to speak to her for 2 days. 

Watching D cry into her phone and plead with a man to help her not only disgusted me, but also filled me with an overwhelming sense of pity for her.  D is definitely strong enough to survive on her own; she's never been made to do so.  I wanted to shake her, to scream at her at make her understand that she does not, not, not need to depend on a man.  She can pick herself up and go on without the help of a man!!  Learning to be independent is the best gift that a woman can give to herself.  I only hope that D will understand that in time.

Until then, I'll accept the sushi dinner that she offered as a peace offering!

L'abbiamo rotto.  We broke it.

I have not yet heard a more succinct description of the dissolution of my marriage.  If there's blame to be had, it is mostly mine.  I know this, I am tormented by it at times, but I realize that it's not all my fault.  Things were broken and we didn't care enough to mend them.  In reality, things had been broken for a very long time, but we didn't want to face it.  All we had was each other.  And then there was the loss of parents, grandparents, the evil and omnipresent spectre of multiple sclerosis, depression, loss of jobs, college degrees, pumpkin pie ice cream with peanut butter cup mix-ins, Pokemon and dork poker, kitty adoption and Stevie Nicks in concert at the Blossom Music Center in Cleveland.  We have history.

Maybe we just didn't try hard enough.  Maybe I didn't want to try anymore.  I would be willing to live a cardboard box with anyone who would write love letters to me...to make me his everything.  I would have to be, as Dante so eloquently wrote, l'amour che move il sole e l'altre stelle...the love that moves the sun and the other stars.  Is it selfish to want to find the love of your life and be the center of his universe? 

I'm not asking for too much, am I?

Gumbo is a daddy!  He broke the news to me yesterday during our first post incarceration conversation.  Gumbo, as you'll recall, is my friend from Ohio (the Narcissist's BFF) to whom I faithfully wrote a letter while he served his sentence for achieving his third DUI.  He complained that he couldn't read my handwriting...I wrote the letter while I was drunk.  I'm way classy like that.

Anyway, after some very Maury Povich-esque drama (a paternity test), Gumbo revealed that he has a five month old daughter.  Let's stop right there...a paternity test.  How many guys was this chick sleeping with??  (Let's call Gumbo's baby mama "Missi," as in "Mississippi," since she's from the South somewhere.)  Contrary to what Jerry Springer or "Desperate Housewives" may tell you, the first thing that most women say when they find out that they're pregnant is, "Oh shit, how am I going to afford this?" or "It's finally happened after trying forever!"  Most women usually do not wonder who knocked them up.  And, most women DO NOT SMOKE POT while they're pregnant, either. 

That he has a child is a fact about which Gumbo seems only mildly concerned.  When he talks about the baby, it feels as if we're discussing a forthcoming change in the weather.  He has to plan for the change, but at the end of the day, buying snow boots or an umbrella is too arduous a task.  This is because Missi is taking all of the responsibility.  Because this girl is so blinded by her borderline-obsessive "love" for Gumbo, she allows him to do as he pleases and be as involved as much, or in this case, as little, as he wants.  Oh, and by the way, she has 4 other children, though I do not know who the father(s)  is/are.  (Don't tell me you're shocked.  Follow along, kids--the girl needed a paternity test for baby #5!) 

The baby is akin to a puppy in Gumbo's eyes.  She's fun to play with and take pictures of, but if she becomes too much work...the humane society is looking pretty attractive.

And we wonder why America's youth is confused.  This is a direct quote from Gumbo: "My job is just to make sure that she doesn't end up dancing on a pole.  As long as she doesn't do that, I'll consider myself a pretty good dad."