Tuesday, April 25, 2006


Right NOW, the new reporter who has my old job, is covering a hostage situation that seems to be at one of the area high schools and involves a Criminal-of-the-most-Feared-and-Hated-Kind.
Woe to me, now just a community reporter with no scanner of my own. I cannot jump into my car and speed down the roads with my trusty State Police Authorized Press Pass, destined for certain grave danger and excitement.
NO, I must sit at my desk, happily typing up the names of middle schoolers who won the regional academic competition. Because THAT'S IMPORTANT TOO, DAMMIT!!!!

i don't miss my old job on the weekends! at janeh928@yahoo.com

Friday, April 21, 2006

Naked Driving...

I have been authorized to share a story with you that has not been shared with many people.
It is about my mom's little brother, and it is a naked driving story.
My mom's brother was in high school, it was winter--in northern Ohio in the 1970's--Cold, cold co-o-ld, and snowy/rainy/slushy. Basically "yuck"!
And he was playing football with his friends, in the mud. LOTS of mud.
He was consequently covered with mud by the time he was set to leave, but had just gotten his first new car. He loved the car and didn't want to get it dirty. (Note of blondeness: my mom has no idea what kind of car this was, though it was some sort of important muscle car and cherry red).
Anyway, he decided that in order to drive home without ruining his car, he would put his clothes in the trunk and drive home naked.
It was a brilliant idea until...
he ran out of gas!!
Um. You'd just have to know my uncle. This is not a surprise to those that do know him. :)
So, another brilliant idea!
My uncle walked home to my mom's subdivision, five miles away, in the slushy snow. NAKED.
Never thought to take his clothes back out of the trunk!

So, that's one of the naked stories! at janeh928@yahoo.com

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

The Irish Lion

Well, we got through the Easter holiday with only the minimal amount of familial drama and ended up at a lovely little pub in Bloomington called the Irish Lion, where everyone got along spledidly and told tales of driving while naked!
The Drama: Mom didn't want to do Easter because she is currently in a play where she is the lead character--a Texan blonde with attitude--and hadn't memorized her lines yet. Thus, the world around her must cease, including any traditional holiday plans.
Only she didn't tell me this until I had already made plans and invited the Scotsman and taken on most of the preparation duties myself. I mean, all she had to do was show up in her own dining room and eat some food!
But... no. On THURSDAY (as in, 3 days to go) I call to ask for a roll recipe and get: "We can't do this, there will be no Easter! Find somewhere else to go! POO in general on your ridiculous plans, daughter! I have LINES to memorize!" (all screamed in a texan accent)
I knew this panic session would subside, but was upset anyway. It put "on-hold" any plans that I had already put into place and I didn't know how I was going to cook an Easter dinner on-the-fly.
Visions filled my mind of the Scotsman arriving to find me covered in flour and egg while my mom shouts lines about bull's private parts in the background.
SO, Saturday morning, she decides that we need to include my collegiate sister, the Sea Hag, in our "now it's important" celebration, and would drive two hours to go to dinner with her.
Mom would practice her lines in the car.
(Luckily, the Scotsman and I, who had had WAY too much to drink on EasterEve, fell asleep for most of the way down. Didn't have to hear much of the "texas accent".)
All in all, a good holiday

No one can get the good Scotch anymore at janeh928@yahoo.com

Friday, April 14, 2006

I am humbled...

Being a fact that I have had some of the most ridiculous adventures of all-time, it is safe to say that I do not often feel that my stories on this site could be trumped by someone else's adventures. In most cases, I feel pretty confident that I have the ability to entertain like no other.

But today, my best friend in the whole world, The Lumberjack (most recently morphed into the Lumber Babe), has bested me at my own game.

Thus, go to www.girllumberjack.blogspot.com, and read the hilarious post she placed yesterday, called "I'll take shotguns for $200, Alex."

I literally laughed 'til I cried, and have no better story to share with you today than hers.

my life is also sometimes boring at janeh928@yahoo.com

Wednesday, April 12, 2006


I WILL get one. Someday. And when I do, the Scotsman will be so happy for me, he will pick me up, twirl around a couple of times and toss me fifty feet, just like the stones he throws at the Highland games!! (heehee, that was a little mean, but a fun image, and I know he could probably do it since he's practicing for such activities right now, and all.)
It's crazy, all you who know me are giggling into your oreo-icecream right now (yeah, Lumberjack, I know you're eating icecream at this very moment. or cookies. or a combo there-of).
Remember, I am the same girl, who just five months ago, attempted to learn to play darts at Monk's apartment and only succeeded in tatooing the door on ten separate occasions and hitting the light fixture twice, sending sparks showering onto the carpet with great hissing, sending certain obsessive-compulsive individuals into convulsive coronary episodes.
But, now, I have finally found the ultimate sport for a very-pale Irish girl with curves--and it is archery. (Watch out, my new favorite sport involves WEAPONS!!! Bwah-ha-ha, the Quaker-girl gets violent! towards a chunk of styrofoam of course, not against rabbits or squirrels or anything cute. but against ex-boyfriends? maybe.)
I feel like Guinevere or Arwen, shooting my arrows into the target board (IT REALLY HAPPENED!) or the dirt (that happened too). I even have a cool white leather wrist guard to wear that makes me feel very special and official and like I know what I'm doing.

i wonder if i can get a quiver to match my wrist guard, with my name all done in sparkles? at janeh928@yahoo.com

Monday, April 10, 2006

The "Feminine Aisle"

(men who are usually grossed out by these kinds of stories might want to turn away, but I guarantee, this will be worth any discomfort on the subject matter, because the story is pretty hilarious.)

SO, the Scotsman, my new growly-bear boyfriend who lives two hours away, and I got to spend the weekend together, which was TONS OF FUN. (I learned how to be an archer, more on that tomorrow)

Since I live so far away, I have to stay at the ManCave when I visit the Scotsman. It is a wonderful place, and I love it very much, full of old ship models and Celtic weaponry and manly decorations of that kind. He has a lovely fireplace that fills the place with a woodsy smell, and a patio that looks straight out of Lord of the Rings. I am the happiest girl in the world to have found this place.

But, I have to spend the night with him, and that led to the Most-Embarassing-Experience-Ever that happened this Friday, shortly after I arrived at the ManCave.

I had been "not feeling so good" all day, but just HAD to see him, so I went anyway. We went to dinner and I felt even worse. My tum hurt quite badly and I had quite the headache.
Later on, around 2 a.m., he rolled over in bed and I almost threw up. It was NOT PLEASANT, but I fell back asleep.
At 4 a.m., he woke up at the same time I did, and we both didn't feel so great. He said he ate too much, but wondered if we had food poisoning since I wasn't feeling great either.
I decided to go to the bathroom at that point, and...
FOUND MYSELF COVERED IN BLOOD. Great, just great, I said to myself. Who knew I was going to start my period? Tonight of all nights.
I was just sure I had ruined his bed. ( I didn't, there was only a little bit, and amazingly, he wasn't mad.)
SO, I call the Scotsman and fill him in on the situation, very quietly, as I was terrifically mortified, and told him I needed to go to the drugstore. He said he would go with me.
We went to the store and got the necessary supplies.
We then headed back to the ManCave, not two blocks away.
Turning into his parking lot, we were accosted by flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror.
4:30 in the morning on an emergency feminine hygeine products run, and we get PULLED OVER!
oh, i felt so BAD. so horrible. so sure i had just ruined any chances i ever had with the Scotsman.
But he started dying laughing.
And so did the officer when he found out what was going on.
The Scotsman, flashlight in his eyes, holds up my purchases, "Sorry officer, we had an emergency and had to go to the drugstore."
(we got pulled over for an illegal right-turn on red, the officer thought we may be drunk, considering the time of Friday night it was.)
The officer laughed all the way back to his car.

He's probably still laughing, and so is the Scotsman at janeh928@yahoo.com