- What I'd talk about if I had my own talk show

The Top Fiver of Monday

Mon, 25 Apr 2011 20:19:33 -0800

1. Jewelry for my upcoming date with Wiz Khalifa. Or Snoop. Or Lil Wayne. Or Tupac. Or pretty much anyone who likes things that sparkle and symbols of wealth.

1. Licensed to thrill: This granny was cruising through oncoming traffic, flying through an intersection in her Little Rascal scooter. She is bold, and heroic.

3. A page from my Grandma's 1947 Date Book. On the 16th, she "went kodaking" (this was old-timey code for having a leisure photoshoot) and then on the 17th, she had an "Hour of Charm." PRECIOUS. She was super charming so the hour clearly paid off.

4. They do exist! Where is my recorder when I need it?!

5. Dogs appreciate us taking the time to learn their language.

What happens when there is no real marketing department

Thu, 14 Apr 2011 20:45:58 -0800

An Ezell's Chicken opens up across the parking lot, and Albertsons Grocery Store employees are left to their own marketing devices. If I was taller and had a sharpie on me I would have tried to help, but this is way beyond that. They are LAMINATED.

Baby trashes bar in Las Palmas. This is amazing.

Sun, 20 Mar 2011 13:55:02 -0800

Apparently there is a full movie coming out soon, thank goodness.
I can't stop hitting replay.

experimenting with other people's feelings

Sun, 20 Mar 2011 12:19:44 -0800

There are lists for everything. I'm in Seattle right now, and did some light googling to find a roster of karaoke nights in the city (I do not need to explain why, this is self-explanatory) and I came across a list on the City's Best website called Best Places to Break Up in Seattle.

Best thing ever: The Pacific Science Center was the 2010 Winner!

Guys, there is a list for this. How many tears have to be shed, how many 10 o'clock shadowed cheeks have to get slapped, how many jukebox song selections spell out the writing on the wall, and how many local free range beers have to be thrown in a face without massive social consequences to warrant it as the best place to shatter someone's heart?

Maybe the waitstaff waits to refill your water at a moment when tears aren't actually streaming down your face, or thoughtfully have a scotch poured and waiting for you in the wings, anticipating your upcoming need for hard liquor.

I have only one way to find out:
Go to these places, and watch worlds fall apart.

If you have any one of these places written in the next few pages of your dayplanner with phrases like "Date with Matt at SpringHill Restaurant and Bar" or "Meet Sandy at Jet City Improv for show" or "Meet guy from chem lab at the Seattle Public Library Central Branch to study" do not walk blindly into this. YOU ARE ABOUT TO BE BROKEN UP WITH. Heads up!

It's a Sunday today, so I am going to spend this upcoming week visiting every single place on the break-up list:

1. Pacific Science Center
(haven't been there since a field trip back in elementary school so it'll be sweet to check out the naked mole rat exhibit after all this time, see how those creepy things are doing)
2. Thai Ku
(nothing makes you want to blast "Single Ladies" and dance around waving your left hand more than some spicy pad thai)
3. Pike Place Fish Market
(lots of commotion and sea creatures, and plenty of escape routes)
4. Spring Hill Restaurant and Bar
(curious to see why this would be an ideal place to break it off)
5. Jet City Improv
(when they ask for audience suggestions, do you yell out "I feel trapped!" or "I don't love you any more!")
6. Space Needle
(this place is awesome, glad I have an excuse to get back up there. I wonder where I'll see more breakups: the romantic and pricey revolving restaurant up top? the observation deck? GIFT SHOP!? "Here's a snowglobe, PS This isn't working for me anymore.")
7. Seattle Public Library - Central Branch
(A library!? Genius. It's quiet, so it'll be easy to hear the tense and hushed conversations coming from behind the reference section.)
8. Delaurenti Specialty Food & Wine
(at least you can buy a case of wine, a pound of cheese and a block of dark chocolate within moments of needing them)
9. Shorty's
(Apparently they have a jukebox. This should be GOOD.)
10. Smarty Pants
(Out by the airport. OUCH. Should be seedy.)

I'll be doing recon based on the following criteria:

1. Number of couples sighted (noting affection, distance, non-verbals)
2. Number of people crying
3. Number of outbursts (physical, verbal, food/beverage or science equipment used as a projectile)
4. Number of people seen "storming out of the place"
5. Overall vibe of place: loud enough to have personal convo in public, crowded enough that there would be witnesses if one partner has an anger problem and therefore breaking it off in public is the safest option?
6. Anything that is screamed out
7. Staff interviews

I'll report back with updates at the end of the week.
If you're in the Seattle area, and into awkward people-watching as much as I am, holler at me. I'd love a wingman. And two shoulders to cry on is better than one.

Take a knee, fellas.

Thu, 17 Mar 2011 00:00:54 -0800

I'm not talking about getting down on a bended knee, AKA one of the greatest love ballads ever brought to us by Boyz II men.

I'm talking about the position you take when a trusted coach or noble countryman asks you to gather round, huddle up, and take a knee for some good motivational fun that's about to be unleashed.

I love motivational speeches. Almost as much as I love the heroes and whack-jobs who deliver them.

Now I don't know where you're at in your life (feel free to inform me through the Holler At Me page on the upper right, especially if you're clinically insane, then use my personal email and let the stream of consciusness flow freely) but chances are, you cried during Rudy. Face the facts, it's the classic underdog story, and it's REAL. Never be ashamed for shedding tears in the name of college football. I have. Go wildcats.

Here's a collection of a few of my faves. Put on that old gear from highschool (you know who you are, turquoise tennis polo) and roll that executive chair back and out of the way, so you can fully take a knee and get your world rocked, hard.

You don't have to be Scottish, Irish, or even Australian to want to put on plaid, paint half of your face blue, and go medieval on someone.

Here is a video of Matt Foley as a MOTIVATIONAL SANTA! This is amazing! Seriously. Chris Farley. I love you.

DUCKS FLY TOGETHER!
This is Coach Bombay at his motivational finest. Hey Emilio, I think it's high time for a little something I like to call...
Mighty Ducks 4: Bombay's Revenge.
(co-starring Emilio, and an elderly coach riley)

If this doesn't make you want to out-skate some scary russians, I don't know what will:

Cleans stadiums. Power-washes bleachers.
Tells tiny dreamers they have to work for it.
Janitors: unsung heroes.

Disturbing Disclaimers

Mon, 21 Feb 2011 08:05:42 -0800

Have you ever walked into the movie theatre with expectations based on the trailer, genre, or director, only to have the lights dim, as your mind is blown to find out that it's not at all as it seems, and that you have been lured into a sick cinematic world and it's too late now because you already poured your bag of peanut M&Ms into the small bag of popcorn? Me too.

I love my neighborhood in Brooklyn because people leave items "free for the taking" out on their stoops, since nobody has a garage or front yard. And because Park Slope is notorious for being family fabulous (walking down the sidewalk in any weather guarantees you'll be run into the road by a triple-wide stroller. No joke. The largest one I've seen is like a little bus and seats SIX CHILDREN. !!??!!!) most of these items are about professional parenting, how to get your infant into the most prestigous private preschool, etcetera, and park slope moms take this all very seriously.

Recently, I stumbled upon this gem of a VHS tape giveaway
with special note attached:

AMAZING! If only every VHS hardcase came with a post-it warning from an area mom, that alerted us (potential Babar: King of the Elephants viewers) to the horrific homicide at the beginning of the film. I checked the back, and this thing is only rated G.

There's no mention of the graphic execution at minute ten, it's only eluded to with "Babar is orphaned and flees the jungle."

But you know what, thinking back now to some of the more traumatic movie experiences I've had, I wish that there was a post-it from a mom stuck to the movie times section of the newspaper, so that I'd really know what I was getting myself into.

Post-Its From A Mom
that I wish were written out and stuck
to the following movies before I saw them:

Two new additions to the menu bar! ----->

Sun, 13 Feb 2011 20:42:34 -0800

Dearly beloved readers,
I have added two more elements of surprise and fun to the menu on the right, and they are designed to enhance your daily life (and nightlife, if you are at the club right now can't resist the Brist) and help you to continue to keep it real.

Letters to The Universe
has been billed as "the safe zone of Jenna's website" by critics, and is the place for you to submit all your life questions, and I will consult with the panel of celebs, pop culture icons, and heroes of yesteryear to get them answered. No question is too strange, no topic is forbidden. All of your questions will be anonymous, and responses will be posted on that page, so that you can sleep at night and stop wondering who made up time zones (this one will be answered first!).

The second addition is called Art Collector. This is the online art museum slash exhibit of all the artwork I am making, which includes paintings, drawings, sculpture, wind chimes, collages, photographs, and crazy stuff I glue together.

All artwork is available for purchase, should you want to add to your personal collection.

Click on this page and get some culture karma points anytime you are too lazy to go to a real museum.

Love you all!

Maine Days: Fun-time Montage!

Mon, 07 Feb 2011 18:47:59 -0800

Sometimes when I have insomnia or drink more than 4 cups of coffee, I get on Jet Blue dot com's impulse-buy section, and this is what resulted in the most recent New England getaway to Portland, Maine!
The land of lobster, nautical-themed townie bars, and old timey boat captains. Huff some saltwater to set the mood for these:

sea-life sightings!

This is where I played "Pretend Parisian" every morning

took the LOVE BOAT (U.S.S. Island Romance)
out to Peaks Island

Amazing.
Best. Sign. Ever.

I rented this bike, and cruised around the island:

This is the local townie bar, J's Oyster. **Think: Cheers.**
And then think as you walk in: The Star Wars bar.
As I was leaving the hotel, the concierge told me
I was way overdressed for this place.
I was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

Daily decisions SHOULD be this simple.
And AWESOME.

And this is where all my food came from, as I was on a strict coastal diet of fins, shells, claws and exoskeletons!

Aye aye, captain! A good fortune from the sea gypsy:

Not pictured are the following moments:
-me encouraging the 10 year old boys next to me at the Portland Pirates hockey game to have a cotton candy eating contest, as they shoved fistfulls of blue sugar into their mouths unbeknownst to their dad slash guardian who looked EXACTLY like pro boxer Chuck "iceman" Liddell.
-the salty old sea captains that were at J's Oyster (also seen entering the double-wide at 10am)
-my impromptu hotel dance party with aggressive leg moves and bed-jumping

Shark Attack!

Mon, 24 Jan 2011 08:32:56 -0800

my haaaaaaaannnnddd!!!

You know those Worst-Case Scanario guides? There is a whole chapter in there specifically about AQUATIC DANGERS, and it has a feature on SHARK ATTACKS (for some reason it has zero information on what to do when your ocean liner hits an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, which would have been pretty handy for the captain of the Titantic).
I spent most of my childhood watching those freaky shows like "Crocodile madness" and "Shark Week" and "Predators and Prey," all of those that have that scary Unsolved Mysteries music and grainy attack re-enactments.

But the guide explains the most effective way to thwart an attacking shark: PUNCHING it in the gills. No joke. Now I'm no million dollar baby, but I'm pretty confident that once I step into the shark's ring (aka OCEAN) that the gloves come off and I have a better chance of strapping a saddle onto the great white's back and galloping off into the surf on sharkback than giving the ole right hook to it's gills and having it swim away in defeat. Never know, though. If anyone has shark experience, please update me on your tactics via the comments page. And if you can't do that because you now have no arms, I am so impressed you found my page anyway! Very nice!

I want to take a little survey, which predator would you rather be attacked by? (Think in terms of: could you win?)

Free Bird

Mon, 24 Jan 2011 08:07:53 -0800

The anglo meaning for the name Jenna is Little Birdy. Precious, right? It's the opposite meaning of Big Fish, which is my favorite movie. Think about it. Name meanings are huge, and people always say that's how you can tell a lot about a person. But really, that's how you can tell a lot about a person's PARENTS.

I was almost named Carolyn (after my hilarious and wonderful aunt) but I remained in the womb for ten months, refusing to budge. In that tenth month, Jim and Nance had an epiphany: Their favorite character on the hit TV show Dallas was named Jenna, played by Priscilla Presley. Knowing I'd be destined for a life of rock and roll, they chose Jenna.

Though I was originally due on New Years Day, through the marvels of 1984 medicine, brought a little birdy into the world on Groundhog's Day (bonus month! Holler!)

This is what ten months of placenta will do to a person, when encountering a fallen soldier from the sky...

taken at Brister Family Reunion weekend in Cannon Beach, OR

Have you done the necessary googling and scanning of microfilm in the dusty basement of your local library to find out where on earth (or outer space if your parents are trekkies) your name came from? Do that today, or in the middle of the night when you can't sleep because the heater from the Depression Era that sits at the foot of your bed makes noises reminiscent of a bowling alley soundtrack.