BERNTHIS.COM's blog

Ever Put BOTH Feet in your Mouth?

2009-04-16T00:28:12-05:00

A couple of months ago, I went to my
therapist's office but before I proceeded to bore him to death with my
"issues", I decided to first use the restroom. For this, a key was
required and so, as soon as I walked into the waiting area, I grabbed
what I THOUGHT was the key to the LADIES room.

Now this type of bathroom is the kind where there is ONE stall and a
couple of sinks. Soooo, in I went and was about to begin my business
when I heard someone enter. Naturally, or maybe, unnaturally, I glanced
underneath the stall and saw two big JEAN covered legs attached to two
CONSTRUCTION BOOT covered feet.

Mortified, I went to grab for the key just to reassure myself that I
was in fact in the gender appropriate place but realized that brilliant
me had left it on the counter, next to the sink.

Not knowing what else to do, I proceeded to tell him:

JESSICA: Sir, this is the ladies room.

to which SHE replied:

WOMAN: I know, that's why I'm here.

Well, by now, I was all done and ready to leave but instead of
walking out, I proceeded to plan how I would live out the rest of my
life in this here stall with florescent lighting, a toilet bowl and my
old "issues" to which I had just added a "new" one and was now more
desperate than ever to share.

I then continued to sit inside the stall for over an hour..okay,
minute...until, thankfully, bless the Lord, the lady washed her hands
and left.

After this episode, I swore, I would never make an assumption like that again and didn't until last week when...

I went to Forever 21 (because I refuse to believe I'm anything but)
and after trying on several dresses, picked one that not only looked
cute but was age appropriate meaning, I can actually bend down and pick
something up and not have the world seeing the ghosts floating around
in what is now my haunted "girl castle".

As I was leaving, I saw a different dress that I liked better and
thought about trying it on but when I looked back at the dressing room
area, a long line had formed and I decided not to bother. Instead, I
turned to the salesPERSON, who happened to be standing by the rack
reorganizing the other dresses, and asked this PERSON:

JESSICA: Excuse me, do you think I could wear....

Suddenly, I stopped myself because it hit me that this PERSON was a
MAN/BOY and likely wouldn't know if a strapless bra would work
underneath...ANYTHING. Soooo, I changed my mind and said:

JESSICA: Nothing, I'll go ask a gir....

but once more stopped myself because after looking a bit closer it
dawned on me, "Oh my God, MAN/BOY is really a GIRL/TOMBOY and here I go
AGAIN!!!

So confused and not taking any chances, I asked straight out:

JESSICA: Do you think I could wear this with a strapless bra? To
which HE/SHE/THEM gave me a weird look and then began to say something
and although HE/SHE/THEM'S lips were moving, I'm pretty sure no sound
came out, unless I'm now COMPLETELY deaf and to which, of course, led
me to then ask:

JESSICA: Is there a ladies room around here?

IS HE DEAD OR IS HE DEAD, DEAD?

2009-03-10T11:14:33-05:00

Growing
up, every funeral I attended the deceased appeared in a closed coffin,
more than likely wrapped in a shroud. That's because in the Jewish
religion they believe that even in life, if your wore Issac Mizrahi made FOR
TARGET while all your friends ran around in Prada made FOR PRADA, when
it comes to death, everyone is equal, meaning, poor, like me. Yay! Finally!

My
parents recently attended the funeral of one of their Christian
neighbors and were describing to me how weird it was to see the dead
guy sitting up, looking so, well, ALIVE.

It reminded me of
when I went to the funeral of the husband of my piano teacher. He was
82 years old when he died and I remember walking into the viewing room
and seeing all these elderly people standing around talking, as if it
were just your average, everyday cocktail party where the dress code
was black attire and you had to carry at least one crumpled tissue in your hand.

Since
I had never actually seen a dead person outside of the ER, I stood by
the casket, staring, fascinated, because I'm telling you the guy was
NOT DEAD. He looked amazing; better even then when I'd seen him last.
He had color in his cheeks, he was smiling, he looked rested and
relaxed. I can't tell you how much I kept picturing myself giving him a
little poke, you know, to wake him up so I could be the one to tell
everybody:

JESSICA: Good news every one, Bill's not dead. He was just napping.

and then I imagined I'd give Bill that old punch in the arm and tell him:

JESSICA: Good one Bill. Now, tell me, how the hell did you hold your breath for so long?

Then,
of course, Bill would step out of the coffin, he and I would have a
good laugh and everybody would then go out to lunch together with Bill
and my piano teacher insisting on treating me because Bill was so
stubborn, he would've willingly have let himself be buried alive rather
then have to reveal his trickery and his wife would have been widowed
years before it was time.....

In the end, I believe what I ended
up doing was turning my back to everyone and glaring right into Bill's
eyes, thinking, after a while he would surely feel me staring at him
and eventually would wake up, maybe say "hello" or ask me to direct him
to the men's room. However, after what everyone
some would believe was a bit too long a period of time, I finally
convinced myself that Bill really was a goner.

After, I first vowed to
get the name of his make-up artist and then went over to my piano
teacher, offered her my condolences, stood around waiting to see if
there were going to be serving any hors-dourves and then left when I
realized that there wasn't even a Diet Coke anywhere in the entire
building, never mind a handful of gorgeous, wannabe male actors in
their 20's who walk around day after day with hope in their eyes and a
tray in their hands, asking people "would you like a napkin with that?"

Interestingly enough, I've noticed as I drive around town, it
doesn't just take dying to make us all equals anymore, a recession
seems to be doing the trick just as well, don't you think?

I'm Sorry What's the Plan Now?

2009-02-22T16:39:27-06:00

The fact that I'm not writing to you from my local BURN unit right
now is a miracle. You see I put the oven on 425 degrees (I'm telling
you "degrees" just in case you thought it was pounds) and walked away.
After ten minutes, I opened the broiler because that is where the pan
was and proceeded to use my bare hands to try and remove it from said
broiler so that I might put it in the oven.

Why, oh why, I thought, after sitting in the broiler for ten minutes that this thing
would
not be SCALDING HOT is beyond me but then again, if you could have seen
how I wore my hair back in the early 90's you might actually point out
to me that, really Jessica, how surprised can you be?

Well, certainly no more surprised than finding out that this year, because the State
of California cannot come up with a budget, it will be giving it's taxpayers an IOU instead of an actual
refund, which of course leads me to ask:

JESSICA: Hey there, California, how about I give you an IOU for my taxes?

What a brilliant idea.. FOR THEM.

I mean, wouldn't it be great if in OUR daily lives we could just hand over an IOU to
anybody in lieu of actual money. Imagine how it would feel to say to
your mechanic:

YOU:
Tires look great. Engine sounds good

and then hand him a piece of paper
with the words, "IOU $____.00" and have him let you leave WITH your car
but WITHOUT a man named "MOOSE BALLS" following you home and then threatening to "hurt you very badly" unless you paid up ASAP.

The
whole IOU thing was very common in my marriage, although it rarely
involved money. I can't tell you the number of times one of us would
say to the other, "You were great last night. I owe you one", which for
my husband meant exactly what it seems like it meant while I would be
thinking more
along the lines of maybe doing his laundry for a week or taking the dogs out the next morning.
At
some point, my ex even suggested putting a tote board up on the fridge
just to make sure neither party was being egregiously "neglected".

Along
with the IOU idea, California has also now informed its citizens that
many of the state's employees will no longer be working on Fridays,
which if you've ever been to the DMV or the local
courthouse you
will agree is a bandwagon these people appeared to have jumped on years
ago, the only difference being that now they're no longer going to get
paid for it. Quite frankly, there are times I've walked into a
municipal office building and could have sworn they were told not to
bother working AT ALL.

Hmmmm....You know, with my work history, perhaps I should
work for the state.

Which reminds me, it's time for my nap.

LOOKING AT MY OPTIONS....I'M NOT SURE I HAVE ANY

2009-02-09T23:30:33-06:00

Yesterday, I was thinking I've ruined my life of maybe giving up acting. The problem is my work history is such that I don't have one tend to get discouraged that anyone out there would ever hire me. Nevertheless, I've put together a rough draft of my non-acting resume and would appreciate any feedback you might have as to how I might improve my chances for future employment.
CHILDCARE-babysitter September 8 (6pm) - September 8 (12am)
I put the brat to bed, started coughing and coughing and, well, cut to: I developed a horrible case of whooping cough, it took three months to diagnose me properly, I took medication, got better and was no longer welcome back at that particular home due the parents fear that my ability to contract an illness that was long ago thought to have been wiped out might lead to my then contracting POLIO and of course passing it on to their son, who, if I recall, had a s**t fit that night because I dared to eat the last frosted strawberry Pop-Tart. Not that he needed it. The kid already had a stomach on him and please don't give me the old, "it's just baby fat" excuse, the kid was three.
CASHIER(ISH), CUSTOMER SERVICE REP: Gristedes Market July 3rd-August 2nd 1982
Although my duties as a cashier included ringing up the items and putting them in the customer's bag, every time someone would put something on my counter that I found repulsive ie: raw mushrooms, I didn't stop to ring it up because I couldn't bear to look at it so I'd just quickly toss it into the bag and continue to check the person out.
Part of being a customer service rep meant there were the times when I wouldn't ring something up because the person I was checking out was a friend of mine or more likely, the mother of a friend of mine and there is nothing like getting on someone's good side by tossing a free steak or two inside their bag. Especially when neither party involved is paying for it. The irony here is, I really didn't think that I was "stealing". In my mind, I was just putting a smile on somebody's face in the hope that I would make their day better and they would in turn offer to raise me as their own.
LIFEGUARD - Just over half the Summer of '83 (although if I'd chosen to wear a Speedo instead of a bikini as my uniform, it likely would have lasted longer).
Worked at Willow Country Club, a place where every one knew your name (well at least they did mine, although the men were the only ones who called me Jessica while the women referred to me as…well, let’s just say it rhymes with "hunt".
In the spirit of full disclosure, I actually came very close to not being a lifeguard because it just so happened that while taking my certification exam, I nearly killed someone. You see, at one point during our final test, we had to “give” CPR to one of our fellow classmates. Now, I have a bit of an attention span problem and it seems that I missed it when the instructor told us "DON'T breath into their lungs, just improvise, because if you do, you’ll kill them". Now I have to believe that the guy who was my soon to be ex/dead partner also had an attention disorder because when I began to do just that, he did nothing to stop me.
Luckily for him, the teacher yelled out, "Bern! What the f**k are you doing?!" at exactly the right moment thus enabling my partner to get his certification while still ALIVE.
TEMPORARY OFFICE WORKER: January 1987 until there were no companies left in NYC to work for that hadn't already fired me at least once for the reasons listed below.
1. Making personal calls all day and unable to hang up even when my boss was standing in front of my desk indicating that he needed me.
2. Stealing office supplies even though I limited myself to only those items that fit snugly into my purse, (except for the copy paper), and always reserving my biggest load for my last day on the job.
3. and finally, because I had horrible office skills and no passion to learn how to be better at ANYTHING.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

WOOF

2009-01-23T13:14:48-06:00

I opened my mailbox today and found a letter addressed to Ms. Lucy Bern. If you're curious to know who that is, I will tell you. It is my nowdeceased dog. Apparently, my "daughter" was a compulsive hair puller and skin picker and the letter was sent to inform her that there are now support groups available in the area where she can go and not feel that she is the only hair pulling, skin picking, dead canine in her entire zip code.

The letter began by saying: "At some point you reached out to us for information..."

and you know, as a mother, it breaks my heart to think that she was suffering and never felt she could pull me aside and say:

LUCY: Hey mom? I need to bark. Do you have a second?

Now, trust me when I tell you, if I thought this was a problem, I would have immediately done what any good mother would have done and called that Cesar guy from "The Dog Whisperer", if for no other reason but to get a referral for a good psychologist that is, of course, AFTER he taught me how to stop Lucy from using my very expensive rug as an ass scratcher.

I'm not sure how long ago Lucy had contacted these folks but I'm going to guess it's when we brought Phoebe home. I've always treated my dogs like they were children and pretty much gave them the run of the house, to the point where my ex and I felt the need to purchase a king size bed because we were tired of sleeping on the edges and then finding ourselves awakened in the middle of the night by a loud "thud", which turned out to be us crashing against our wooden floor. Of course, Lucy and Co. would continue to snore, oblivious to my screaming, "God*#mit Motherfu*#er!!"

That all changed when Phoebe was born. Now, it's not that she took up Lucy's space on the bed, but rather due to my lack of sleep, I became a complete b**ch less pleasant than I had been and I don't think Lucy felt safe comfortable being within ten miles as close to me as she had been. It was also around that time that the decline of my marriage hit mach speed and the fact is I too wanted to pull my hair out on a daily basis. This then lead me to wonder if perhaps, for Lucy, life had become a type of "doggy see" mommy is a lunatic , "doggy do" kind of thing.

However, I did also consider the fact that, and I mean absolutely no disrepect to my ex when I say this, really, none at all, but I'm just saying it is quite the coincidence that not two months after Lucy went to live alone with just him, out of nowhere, she just so happened to "kick it". Again, no disrespect. It's just a theory. Just throwing it out there, just givin it a "whoosh" little toss.....just....okay, I'm going to stop now.

Let's See...How Do I Put This

2009-01-07T00:23:18-06:00

I was in NYC for a
week with Phoebe. Being a child from L.A., she wanted to take a taxi
everywhere. Being an adult who spent her childhood in NYC, I told her
to suck it up and walk.

She quickly adapted to the situation and as a small bribe thank
you, I decided to buy her a treat. We were passing by this one upscale
French style restaurant/cafe and the desserts in the window looked
amazing so in we walked.

For a change, I was the one who needed to go potty and before we sat down, I took Phoebe with me to the bathroom.

This
particular restroom was meant for one person and at that particular
moment, that person was not me as when I opened the door there, not
four feet away, was this preppy guy in his 20's sitting on the toilet
for both Phoebe and I to see.

Clearly, he hadn't locked the
door, leading me to wonder if the guy got off on this type of
exhibitionism or he actually believed the bathroom was in fact his
home, something that would seem crazy to most people but if you've ever
lived in NYC you'd know that a space that small could still very easily
qualify as a studio apartment.

On instinct, I quickly threw my purse in front of Phoebe's eyes whereupon, she instinctively shoved it away, yelling:

PHOEBE: Stop it! I want to see too!

I
quickly closed the door and as we looked for a place to sit, passed a
couple sitting at the table closest to the bathroom. As I slipped by,
the woman stopped me and said:

WOMAN: You're about the third person to walk in on this guy.

to which I replied:

JESSICA: Someone should lock him in from the outside.

Finally,
Phoebe and I sat down and I can't tell you how much I enjoyed spending
the first five minutes of our little treat time together answering her
question which was:

PHOEBE: Where did his penis go?

Trust me when I say that in a million years, I never thought I'd be having the following exchange with my five year old GIRL.

JESSICA: It was tucked inside the toilet bowl.

PHOEBE: Why?

JESSICA: Because it works out better that way. Now, do you want to order a grilled cheese?

PHOEBE: Why is it better?

JESSICA: Because cheese is made from milk and it's good for your bones.

PHOEBE: (loudly) No, why does his penis in the toilet bowl work better?

JESSICA: (now whispering) Because he can do pee and poo at the same time.

PHOEBE: (excited) I do that but only sometimes, not all the times, I can't.

JESSICA: Yes, that's very true.

Right
at that moment the guy finally exited the bathroom. I really had to go
by this point, so I took Phoebe with me again and this time sloooowwly
opened the door. It was empty. We walked in and I immediately looked
for the lock which was this wimpy little bolt that a fetus could master. I bolted the door shut and had just started to pee when there was a knock on the door. As I yelled out:

JESSICA: There's someone in here!

Phoebe simultaneously screamed:

PHOEBE: It's okay, she doesn't have a penis!

GRRRRRR....D

2009-01-03T19:10:40-06:00

Over the last few years, I've developed these white spots on my
arms and legs. When I pointed
these out to my dermatologist he was very reassuring and told me:

DOCTOR: Welcome to getting old.

To which I responded:

JESSICA: Thanks ~~f*@er~~ doc.

Apparently,
what he meant by his oh so subtle response, is that I have no melatonin
left in those portions of my skin and therefore will continue to look
like a Jewish American Leapordess for the rest of my life. It also
means that I have been alive so long that I have actually RUN OUT of a
hormone and I did it all by maintaining a color of skin just a tad
darker than that of a cotton ball all while living in a state where the
sun refuses NOT to shine.

On top of all
that, I now have GERD. Yes, sadly, I presently have gastro-esophageal
reflux disease that I only just now learned how to spell by looking it
up on Wikipedia. Now, if, like me, you were born the youngest in your
family, you will understand why it is I was forced to do so. If you’re
reading this and have no idea what I’m talking about, please head over
to bernthis.com (the web series) and click on “BORN STUPID”. It will
explain a lot and might finally provide you with an excuse for why you
seem to get loaded at every familial gathering.

Anyway, knowing death was imminent, wondering how I might deal with this fatal
chronic illness, I immediately went to the internet to look up what
exactly I needed to do to resolve the problem and of course, like any
professional Jew
hypochondriac whose been honing her “craft” for years, I waited until
very late at night when it would be impossible to call anyone without
risking waking someone out of a deep sleep, something I confess I’ve
done before only to find myself wishing I did in fact I have
Scleroderma just so I had justification for the phone call.

In
order to stop having to sleep sitting up and spending the dark hours of
the night promising God that if he took the pain away and gave me a boyfriend, I would never say another bad word that began with an "A" about ex husband ever again, I knew I was going to have to change my diet.

The
problem was, the dietary recommendations for GERD didn't so much
recommend that I alter my diet as it did ERADICATE IT. By all intents
and purposes, for me to live "GERD" free, I would be required to stop
eating as the diet tells you to refrain from ingesting any of the
following:

1.Chocolate

2.Caffeinated and DE caffeinated drinks.

3. Tomatoes or anything with a tomato base.

4. Citrus

5. All carbonated drinks

6. Fat

(Do you know what foods have fat in them? ALL OF THEM. Although, I hear they now make fat free OXYGEN. )

It
doesn't matter because I never did finish reading the list as I believe
after number six I went to order a Pepperoni Pizza and in the process
spilled my Diet Coke which I needed to then replace because I was so
thirsty from the Hershey bar I had just ingested. Besides, I decided
that if God had meant me to never eat these foods again he would have
never invented Prilosec so I took take the easy way out
went with what I thought was right for me and bought some for myself
although I'm not sure if it's working because right now I have a bit of
a pain in my chest and that can only be one of two things, the meds
aren't doing their job OR I'm having a heart attack.

"Welcome to getting old."

Hope you all had a wonderful New Year.

Dumb and Dumber and DUMBEST

2008-12-30T12:15:27-06:00

The following is a conversation held in a Borders Bookstore in Hollywood, California.

CUSTOMER: (girl, late 20's): Can you help me? I'm looking for this book written by Oprah.

EMPLOYEE: Umm, I don't think Oprah ever wrote a book.
CUSTOMER: Yes, she did.
EMPLOYEE: Really? Did you know what the title is?
CUSTOMER: The first word is a girl's name. I think it starts with an A". It's about a girl and this guy. It's a romance novel.

EMPLOYEE: An "A"...hmmm. Are you sure it's not by Danielle Steele or maybe Barbara Taylor Bradford?

CUSTOMER: No. Oprah did her whole show on it.

EMPLOYEE: It begins with an "A"?

CUSTOMER: Yeah, like Ann or something...
EMPLOYEE: Anna Karenina?
CUSTOMER: Yeah, that's it!
EMPLOYEE: But Oprah didn't write that.
CUSTOMER: (offended) Yes, she did.
Myself and the other three customers in the area stand around, mouths agape, heads shaking, me praying this gal won't run for president in 2012.

SWISH, SWISH, SWISH

2008-12-13T15:24:32-06:00

I was in this very upscale supermarket the other day called GELSON'S, when I came upon a man standing behind a small table, handing out tiny plastic cup-size samples of a NEW brand of water.

By the time I approached, there was a woman there, late 50's, nicely dressed, already taking her first sip. As I quickly downed a couple of these little guys, this same woman began to slowly swish the water around in her mouth. After watching her for a few seconds, I began to look around me only to then ask myself:

JESSICA'S THOUGHT: I am in a GROCERY store, right?

Moments later, the woman stopped the swishing, swallowed, then took another sip and again began to swish. Now, my initial instinct was to tell her:

JESSICA'S THOUGHT: Pace yourself, I heard the people from Evian and Fiji are here as well.

But I have to say, I was rendered speechless when she then held the cup up to her nose and began to sniff it only to then hold it up to the light and just stare at it for what seemed like an interminably long period of time. Naturally, the employee and I were now also mesmerized as I believe although she was seemingly checking for the water's "expressiveness" he and I were looking for bugs.

As the woman continued to swish the water around in her mouth, I started to wonder if perhaps she was waiting for a spitoon to drop out of the sky or if perhaps she might instead, just spit it out onto the floor which has been known to happen when one attends a water tasting.

But before I could say a word, she swallowed, turned to the man and said:

WOMAN: Now this is good stuff. Where did you say this came from?

I have to say I was very impressed with this guy. He looked at this gal NOT like she was on a lunch break from MARS, even though this had now been pretty well established, at least by me (and if there's anything I know, I know crazy), but rather as a sophisticated consumer who just happened to have an inquiring mind, which is why, I realized, he was the one standing behind that little table, EMPLOYED and I, too often, am not.

On top of all that, he didn't even bother to respond to her question but just asked her if she would like another sample to which the woman replied:

for more go to: www.bernthis.typepad.com

WORK IT BABY

2008-11-21T15:35:22-06:00

I can now say with total, complete and utter sincerity that in this town, if a person finds a car that can get them from point A to point B, it's drivable. In my 11 years in L.A. I have seen cars with more duct tape on them than a kidnap victim. I've seen some held together with nothing more than glue and a daily prayer to God that the f*@er will still turn over. The other night, I stopped at a red light and as God as my witness, a man pulled up along side me in a station wagon that could not have been less than 30 years old and with his arm leaning NOT on the driver's side DOOR, but rather the door FRAME, to the point where you could literally see what pants he was wearing.

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WHERE DO YOU GO FROM HERE?

2008-11-15T01:25:16-06:00

Have you ever been on a date and when you realized the guy
'just wasn't that into you" then proceeded to tell him everything
that's wrong with you?
I went
out with this guy the other day. It was one of those general interview
type dates. You know the ones where you're only there to find out

1. If you want to sleep with him and
2. If you would actually want to TALK to him afterward.
We
were sitting in the coffee bar for over an hour and I really thought
things were going well, to the point where, for the first time in a
while, I was actually looking forward to our second date.
Then
he made this comment which made me realize I was waaaay more into him
than he was into me and because I was so bummed, I started thinking:
JESSICA'S THOUGHT: Ahhh, what the hell, this ship's sinking anyway, why not just let him know what he's REALLY giving up.
You know, just tell him:
JESSICA:
By the way, I'm living off my parents and every three months or so, I
just totally freak out for no apparent reason and it takes like a week
to get over it and I'M on an ANTI-DEPRESSANT. Oh and I used to have
excema as a child and it seems to be making a comeback, if you know
what I mean and just so you know, I own TEN pairs of sweatpants.

You sure you want to give me up?
Of course, in the end, after developing a sudden case of dignity, all I told him was:

JESSICA: Nice meeting you.

IT ALL STARTED WITH A BANG

2008-10-25T01:10:18-05:00

I was in a car accident the other day with a guy who ran a red light. Being people in L.A. are always in a hurry, this guy never bothered to pull over, leaving me holding the bag or, in this case, my headlight.

Turns out, I had an eyewitness, a man in his late 60's, who I quickly learned was THE ONLY person in the ENTIRE COUNTY that does NOT own a cell phone and wasn't clear he even had a home phone because according to him:

MAN: My wife, she did something with the phone, I don't know what.

He was a really nice man and I felt so bad for him. This poor guy looked so beaten down, you could tell the last fullsentence he ever spoke was when he turned to his wife and told her, "I do".

After the police showed up and took a report, I drove over to my local body shop, a place where "everybody knows MY name." The people there are incredibly nice and every time I walk in it feels just like the bar on the show "Cheers", except I'm the ONLY regular customer.

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IT'S NOT JUST A NUMBER

2008-10-22T15:38:15-05:00

Up until I turned 40, I can honestly say that whenever I saw somebody who I considered old, you know, like...40...I would just look at them, completely unable to relate and, to be honest, totally unaccepting of the idea that one day that would be me.
Now, I've got it going on in a lot of ways but I remember right after my 40th birthday feeling as though people were looking at me like, "You're STILL here?, Wow. That's bold". For months I felt like somehow it was my obligation to either stay indoors or kill myself because in Los Angeles, once you pass the age of 29, it's not just downhill from there, it's over. I'm just waiting for them to pass a law that would designate a cut off age for how old you can be before you can no longer be BURIED here.
Because I've lived here so long, I'll now look at someone in their 20's or 30's, and think "hope" and yet when it comes to people over 40, it's more like, "not so much". for more go to: www.bernthis.typepad.com

SORRY I ASKED

2008-10-16T22:13:04-05:00

Recently, after ten minutes of dinner conversation with Phoebe wherein I found myself nodding and saying things like:

JESSICA: My eyes aren’t purple, your eyes are purple.

I just couldn’t pretend smile anymore and so I stupidly decided to ask her what she wanted for Hanukkah.

PHOEBE: I want a kitty cat and a puppy and 2 bunny rabbits

to which I responded:

JESSICA:
Okay, well as far as the cat thing goes, Cats don't like mommy and
mommy doesn't like cats pissing on her furniture. Two bunny rabbits?
Let's just say if even ONE is anything like your mother, two rabbits
will quickly become four, four, eight, eight, sixteen…and , well, as
far as the puppy, we’ll see.

Dear Mr. President, Can I just ask you a quick question?

2008-10-13T00:22:57-05:00

When you said the economy would "eventually" straighten out and people's IRA's, pensions and stocks would actually be worth something again, what did you mean by "eventually"?

You see I have to pay my property taxes within the next sixty days and apparently all the hard earned money I invested is now vapor and I was just wondering if by "eventually" did you mean by December 10th of this year and if not then when?

You see, the reason why I'm asking is when I was growing up, I would ask my dad questions like:

JESSICA: When will I be able to drive?

JESSICA: When will it be okay for me to wear make up?

to which his answer would always be "eventually" which in hindsight turned out to be an average of about 8 years from the time I posed the question and so you can see now why it is I'm a bit worried.

Anyway, if you could get back to me with an answer as soon as possible, I would be very appreciative.

Well, gotta go. My bank just called to tell me they're cutting off my credit line. :(

Drill, baby, drill!!! :)

Best,

Jessica