Jenna's House of Idiosyncrasies Version 10.0 [Focus.]

To Justin Timberlake,
I like your music. I really do! It's is not life-changing or anything, but it makes me shake my booty, and sometimes, a person needs nothing more than to shake her booty. So what possessed you to put not one, but two seven and a half minute songs on your new record? Even worse, what convinced you to order the tracks so these two songs are back-to-back? Pop songs, with few exceptions, and not meant to run longer than 4 minutes, 5 at most. After that, they just wear out their welcome. I beg you, do not make this mistake again. Hours of reckless, fool-hardy dancing are at stake.

To the mostly naked girl sending me friend invites on MySpace,
First of all, I am not a lesbian. While I'm flattered, I'll have to ask you to take your bicurious fantasies elsewhere. In addition, all of your pictures are taken with a grainy webcam in what looks like an office supply closet, next to a copy machine. In your underwear. It seems a bit avant garde, but I don't think that was your desired effect. If you ever want to boost your self-esteem in a way that does not involve a series of "wow, your hawt" comments next to your racy, yet low-quality photos, I would suggest you get away from the file cabinets and fluorescent lights and, you know, go meet some people. Of course, if you've tried this and it didn't work, it may have been because your potential new friends had to listen to you talk.

To Cingular,
Dialing 411 costs $1.79 now? You better watch out; at some point it will be not just cheaper but also easier for me to use my cell phone's internet connection to connect to Google Local and get the number I need for free. Where will you be then?
I guess, serving all the people who still don't have data plans. Sometimes, my geekiness shines through more than I expect.

To Fate/Destiny/The Universe/et al,
Is it some kind of extremely cruel joke that I have been chasing like a madman after work for months, and I suddenly have far more to do than I can handle? Or is this just your way of smacking me upside the head while yelling, “Be careful what you wish for”?

To the young men in my life,
I realize I get a little handsy when I'm drunk. If you have a problem with that, we can not hang out when I'm drunk. That gives us almost no opportunity to hang out though, so choose carefully!

This was only ten days ago, but it feels like years have gone by.

So it's your friend's birthday, and he's plastered. He just got his own fancy digital camera, and he takes about 200 pictures of you (and at least 1000 more of everyone around you). One of them is bound to come out good.

Returning home this evening (this morning?), I checked my mail to discover that I have been turned down for health insurance because I don't meet the height and weight requirements. And this is after I lied about my weight on the form, putting myself at my high school weight instead of my college drop out weight.

I've had a shitty couple of weeks, but up until this point, the evening I have had remedied most of that. Now I feel like I am back at square one.

The good news is, I'm out of money again, so I'm back on the poverty diet any time now. Huzzah.

I am so fucking done with life right now.

After a long and arduous adventure on Monday that resulted in much more sun exposure that I planned, I ended up with a painful, searing red sunburn.

As Painful As It Looks, originally uploaded by Jenna Tollerson.

I wake up this morning, and I'm peeling. I never fucking peel.

I can't wait to write this week off.