The Dam

The respite of insanity

compensates not

for the granules of reality

left in its wake

Flash formed pockets of idealism

can not harbor

the slog of drudgery

thick and unyielding

Hoist the dam! 

they lament

but they can not comprehend

the inevitable disaster

For the dam is weak

sated and uncertain

Cracks spider

with the slightest trepidation 

Below remains unscathed

but the thirsty depth beckons

to be slaked by destruction

Eating my feelings...they taste like Doritos

Hi, my name is Jenn and I'm a (insert neurosis of the day here) addict. 

FOOD.

That word basically controls my life. The absence of it, the over-abundance of it, the deliciousness of it and the 'hey, this tastes like insulation!' of it. I've been an overeater my entire life. My first guilty memory of eating was the first time I ate whipped cream out of the tub. I may have been a fetus at the time (or maybe not, but still I was very young). My mother, of course, yelled at me but I was unfazed because all I wanted was 5 pounds of creamy,sugary fat in my belly. My dad didn't help the situation, letting me eat birthday cake and ice cream for breakfast. But once I hit my teen years, I couldn't blame it on the parentals anymore. I just loved food, bad (delicious) food...A LOT. As a result, I weigh an astonishing 200+ lbs today at the age of 28. Speaking of first memories, my first recollection of going to the doctor was when my back fat at the age of 8ish troubled my parents. How fucking embarrassing! To have back fat when I should be skinning my knees on the monkey bars! (don't worry, I've skinned my back fat on the monkey bars since then). 

You may be asking yourself, 'Jenn, you have always been the spitting image of the pie eating kid from Stand By Me, why are you so troubled now?' Well, beloved reader, after all these years of Quarter Pounders with Cheese, I have finally discovered that I'm actually addicted to food. I always have been, but denial is a powerful and lovely thing. My recent troubles (or 'rehab' as I call it) have been a harrowing experience. If I keep eating like this, I will be dead before the age of 40. I don't wanna die when I'm still old enough to rock! (insert Steven Tyler scream) So in my pursuit of getting my shit together, I've been reading about food addiction. 

Addiction to deliciousness is like any other addiction. It's something that consumes you, both mentally and physically. People can literally be addicted to ANYTHING. Some people are addicted to exercise (side note: I hate those people). Many addictions can be explained biologically and physiologically (genetics, brain chemicals, etc.) and some are a result of environment (childhood, severe trauma, being the last kid on the block to own a Furbee). I'm pretty positive mine stems from both. But it doesn't matter because I can blame genes or daddy feeding me McDonald's all I want, it still doesn't make me stop eating. 

This blog was inspired by a particular instance that happened not an hour ago. I was in the library, arms full of audio books like the humungo nerd I am, and I realized I had left my wallet at work. Frustrated and slightly panicked, I drove the 15 minutes back to hell (ahem, Wells Fargo) to find it thankfully hidden in a crack in my desk drawer. On the way, I was angry at myself and all I could think about was how to reward myself for the agonizing drive back to work. (Side note: For some reason I have to reward myself for stupid and mundane things I do) My mind was consumed with thoughts of a chicken ranch sandwich and fries drenched in honey mustard from my favorite pig out spot, Chili's. As visions of fried buffalo chicken danced in my head, I chewed my already stale gum so hard that TMJ is in my future. (I've figured out that chewing gum works as deterrent to stuffing my face.) I thought back to the book I'm reading on overeating and how I can learn to control my scrumptious thoughts. Within 5 minutes, the craving passed and I was actually happy with myself for surviving the urge. I came home without a takeout bag full of regret. 

This won't be easy but controlling my food addiction is a must. I've always wanted/needed to lose weight but I can't even begin to think about that until my addiction is addressed. It will mean a loss of comfort from my favorites noshes but I won't have heart disease in two years either (but I sometimes may still eat whipped cream out of the tub...)

"Don't cry for me, tub of Cool Whip. The truth is I never left you"

The world is a vampire (but not a wussy Twilight one)

In addition to my parellel parking skillz (or lack therof), there remains one large part of my life that most people seem baffled by: my enduring and obsessive love of The Smashing Pumpkins.

1995: The Smashing Pumpkins squander their proceeds on eyeliner and sparkly things.

Now, when I say I love Lady Gaga, that love is but merely a fraction of devotion I have to the Pumpkins. Those of you who know my adoration of The Gaga are probably terrified right now knowing there is another music artist who I am even more crazy about...BUT let me explain.

I discovered The Smashing Pumpkins in the summer of 1996, 15 years ago. I clearly recall babysitting my cousins in Oregon one day when the much lauded music video for "Tonight, Tonight" popped up on MTV (back when that station wasn't filled with guidos and games about being quiet in a library (but seriously MTV, WTF? A library)) Anyway, immediately I was in love with the song, the band and the chrome dome beauty that is lead singer, Billy Corgan.

"Hey baby, wanna see my silver pants?"

This experience sparked a fire inside of me which led me to become an obsessive 13-year-old with a literal shrine to the band in my Dallas and eventual Boise bedroom. I spent all my "good grade" cheddar on The Aeroplane Flies High box set which was over $50. I wore that shit out. By then I had purchased every album the band put out, including rarities and crazy fans only merchandise. I remember being more thrilled than a Gaga in a shoe store when I discovered the band had been together since 1991 and thus, I had 4 years of music to engorge myself in.

Since that fateful summer, I have spent over $500 on various pieces of the band (yes, I actually crunched the numbers). This includes a VIP concert ticket and meeting my hero and eternal love, Billy.

"But wait, weirdo", you may be saying, "you haven't told us why this band means so much!" Slow your roll, readers! I'm getting to that.

Something very tragic happened in December 1995; my father died. In a lot of ways, I believe the Pumpkins kept me alive during that time and years after. Billy's music and lyrics reflected my situation at the time; I was depressed, angry, sad and basically acted like a punk for years. Songs like "Today" and "Thirty Three" gave me hope. All those songs created a storyline in my head and helped push the bad stuff out.

One song sticks out in particular. "Galapogos" from the Mellon Collie album ALWAYS makes me cry. No matter what. It's a gorgeous tale of being so in love that you can't bear to live on without the other. It sounds like there's some therapy needed, yes, but it's very Shakespearean in its idea. Also, the Pumpkins inspired me to pick up a guitar and write. The first song I ever learned to play was "Stand Inside Your Love" from the virtually flawless Machina album from 2000.

Most importantly, when I listen to their music, I feel as if I am home. I have never been as calm and peaceful as when I listen to the Pumpkins. It reminds me of where I came from and also that I'm still here which in itself is sometimes a miracle. It reminds me of my dad and it reminds me that there's always something beautiful out there to look forward to.

And that is why I love The Smashing Pumpkins. I hope you all love something as much.

"What the hell is a Lady Gaga?" - my grandfather (presumably)

It's been two very long, very crazy months since my last blog post. Since then the world has endured tornadoes, a devastating earthquake and a new Britney Spears album. Oh, the horror! But seriously, it's like I don't know what to write about anymore. I work at Wells Fargo, I process flood determinations (don't ask, it's boring), I hang out with my friends, I enjoy recreational substances, I read everyday and I've been watching the Franco/Rogen delight, Pineapple Express, a lot recently. ("I can see through my leghole!") You're caught up. Thrilling, isn't it?

But let's talk about the more pressing issue at hand: the new Lady Gaga album.

"I see all with my fake chin eye!"

I could write a New York Times series article on the cover alone but I'll spare you. But come on. It's her head crudely photoshopped onto a motorcycle with the words Born This Way emblazoned at the top like some battle cry. Yo, Gags, I didn't know you were born as a Harley! What a coincidence, I was born as a George Foreman grill! But my album is called Grill This Way (Knockin' Out the Fat).

"It doesn't matter if you love him or capital G-R-I-L-L"

Ok, enough about the cover, it's what's on the inside that counts. And what's inside is a mix of BDSM, techno, hardcore, rock and LOTS of Jesus. I don't know if the carpenter extraordinaire would like Gaga envisioning herself as Mary Magdalene, loving Judas over Him or calling Him a black runway model. I hope He's a forgiving person.

My favorite track is 'Heavy Metal Lover' which contains no heavy metal whatsoever. Instead, it's yet another rebel yell for leather wearing Harley riders and their 'chicks' to get drunk, cause trouble and possibly encouraging orgies? I can't really tell, there's too much autotune involved. Second on the fave list is 'Sciebe' which is German for 'shit'. What it has to do with this song about dancing and freedom, I have no idea. But the beat is a slick as an albino in a rainstorm. Rounding out the top tres, is 'Bad Kids', a opus to the weirdos, brats and punks aka Little Monsters. It sounds like Paula Abdul had sex with Duran Duran and then birthed this song.

Not all the songs are gems, however. 'Americano' is a pseudo-lesbian tale of an Italian Gaga who meets an American girl in LA. It's as convoluted as it sounds. Essentially, it's just Gaga shouting 'Americano!' over and over. My car stereo literally rejects it. I made a copy of the album for my car and 'Americano' was the only song to immediately start skipping. My Oldsmobile is xenophobic apparently or just know a shitty song when she hears one.

Overall, the album is pretty near perfect, bad Italian accents and saxophones aside. All it's missing is a guest appearance from an original stuffed crust pizza.

"Will someone scratch my nose for me? I would do it but I have WHEELS FOR HANDS"

The Apocalypse is coming in the form... of pizza

There is one delicacy in the world that is more divine than any other foodstuff:

BOOM! 

STUFFED CRUST PIZZA.

If I could eat this every day without worrying about a quadruple bypass, diabetes and constipation, I would. BUT the oracle that is Pizza Hut has given in to the fattys of the world and ruined their signature dish...

WTF? 

Listen up, (presumably) monocle wearing and cigar smoking fat cats at Pizza Hut, your new monstrosity of stuffed crust filled with cheese AND toppings is otherwise known as a CALZONE. Did you know that you also sell calzones? So now you're selling pizza topped with a calzone. This is almost as big of a disaster as KFC's Double Down. 

There's a reason this looks like a coffin...

Yet another victory for people rushing to that early grave. But most of all, Pizza Hut (or should I say Pathetic Hut? No, it's Pizza Hut) why are you trying to "improve" your finest creation? If I want a calzone, I WILL ORDER A GODDAMN CALZONE!!! *throws chair into wall*

I will go on a hunger strike * until the Hut restores their original masterpiece. I will be Gandhi. Only instead of striving for India's independence from Britain, I will be striving for cheese baked into a golden crust aka the American Dream. 

*this may or may not be true

Scama-lama-ding-dong

So I just found out that the interview I have on Monday is nothing more than door to door vacuum sales with no chance of earning a paycheck unless you sell a number of $2000 friggin' fancy ass POS vacuums.

Charlie, what do you have to say about this?

Wait, what?

Huh?

You are no help.

Drunken Insight

I am extremely drunk BUT tonight I realized I am willing to sacrifice everything for the people I care about. I will freeze in the Artic wilderness so my friends will survive. And I am proud of that. I wish everyone felt that way.