tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79646352008-05-07T13:30:09.572-04:00Jennie SmashBlogger791125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-36982587289583524762008-05-07T08:23:00.000-04:002008-05-07T13:30:09.948-04:00

Coworker Dennis has been looking at condos lately, and I've been going with him, because everyone should have a fake wife to alternately play good cop/demand to know what this maintenance is for, anyway. The search has had a salutary effect on his self esteem, as evidenced by the following conversation: Jennie Smash: are you lunching today? Coworker Dennis: i have a meeting at 1

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-24249481128686185642008-05-03T00:20:00.004-04:002008-05-03T00:25:37.296-04:00

I have recently decided that it's very important to be at least a little in love as much of the time as possible. Currently, I am in love with Henry Cavill. He plays Brandon on The Tudors and is obviously my future husband. The cynical among you might point out that I don't know Henry Cavill, that he is a famous person, and that I'll probably never meet him. I would argue that this makes him an

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-45961611009993243892008-05-02T22:07:00.001-04:002008-05-02T22:08:51.727-04:00

I was dragging the trash out to the curb this evening, when a woman walked by and gave me a funny look. This, I realized, was due to the fact that I was wearing my Mom's old scrub pants, a bleach-stained t-shirt, and slippers. Also, my hair was standing up like Don King's. I swear, some days the only difference between me and my neighborhood homeless guy is that I still have all my teeth.

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-47920283929959747172008-04-29T18:03:00.003-04:002008-04-29T18:07:53.470-04:00

I was making my rounds of former flames on all my usual stalking sites the other day (MySpace, Facebook, Google, the National Registry of Sex Offenders) when I discovered that one of my exes has recently entered into a relationship. This ex is basically two exes, because I dated him twice, during two totally separate periods of my life. Anyway, the point is that I am really a lovely person

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-72588646903941276442008-04-29T17:55:00.003-04:002008-04-29T17:59:39.978-04:00

If you told me that every last person on the subway this morning was a zombie, I would believe you. I am known for being gullible - although I prefer to think of myself as filled with childlike wonder - but I swear to you, these people were out for brains. Let's review the evidence: 1. Vacant stares. (Check.) 2. Ashen complexions. (Check.) 3. Odor of rotting flesh. (Check.) 4. Alternately

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-29227430487660098062008-04-29T02:12:00.003-04:002008-04-29T02:18:05.560-04:00

Me: This guy at the end of the bar is trying to get me to take him home with me. Aaron: He's a good-looking guy. Me: You know, the thing is ... it's depressingly easy. I'm not trying to be a jerk. I don't think it means anything. Aaron: My uncle told me a story once. He was talking about how at a certain age, girls just started to look right through him. Not like, giving him dirty looks or

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-61215392082517751032008-04-28T17:22:00.002-04:002008-04-28T17:26:27.699-04:00

Michaela: So, should we get a car? Me: Yes. Finish this whiskey. I have car service numbers. Josh: OK. I just have to find my pants. (Off our look, as we realize he is still wearing only gold lame hot-pants.) What? My phone is in the pocket.

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-29303518484022102252008-04-27T20:48:00.002-04:002008-04-27T20:59:02.915-04:00

I got a complaint the other day from one of my twelve loyal readers that I haven't said much about the ol' love life lately. I assume that this is because this guy is in a relationship and is longing for gossip from the dating world. I don't do a lot of gossiping about dating, because I'd like to be able to continue dating, and also, less selfishly, because it seems kinda mean to reveal

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-23805604623086334282008-04-23T20:20:00.001-04:002008-04-23T20:20:47.236-04:00

Last night, I had a dream that my roommates were kicking me out of my apartment because I hadn't done the dishes in so long. I live alone.

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-79146780619765674082008-04-22T21:04:00.003-04:002008-04-22T21:10:48.255-04:00

Me: My friend Claire brought her baby into the office the other day. Ma Smash: Oh, Leo! How is he? He must be big. Me: He is big. He is no longer a large baby. He is now a small man. Ma Smash: They do that. Me: And he's a flirt! He loves girls. It's hilarious. I forgot that babies are people. I remember when I was waitressing, little boys would always flirt with us. Probably because we were

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-19621111799179297642008-04-21T18:52:00.003-04:002008-04-21T19:10:10.079-04:00

Reader Monty has a theory on why I might have 11 teeny little zits on my nose: "Spider eggs?" Yeesh, Monty. Like I'm not crazy enough already. To make myself feel better, I thought I might get my eyebrows threaded at lunch. I go to this place a few blocks away from my office, and they're pretty nice there. One time, when I hadn't been going there long, they talked me into getting my mustache

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-12723958250852799452008-04-21T07:51:00.002-04:002008-04-21T07:53:11.921-04:00

I woke up this morning with about 11 teeny little zits on my nose. WTF?

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-3076499804971470582008-04-20T11:45:00.001-04:002008-04-20T11:46:49.885-04:00

...you'd think I'd learn. I have a sunburn from being outdoors yesterday. Keep in mind that I was wearing 50 SPF sunblock the whole time.

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-51878720026348696992008-04-13T21:19:00.002-04:002008-04-13T21:23:34.147-04:00

But possibly crazy-related. I had my first migraine in over a year on Friday. For some reason, getting a migraine always makes me feel a little nutty. This is possibly because no one seems to understand entirely why people get them or how they work, or it's possibly because I have a bizarre neurosis in which I feel that illness is actually my body's way of telling me that I am WEAK, WEAK, WEAK.

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-4323599524107323892008-04-13T21:06:00.005-04:002008-04-13T21:47:54.000-04:00

This probably won't matter all that much to people who don't give a crap about fashion and/or New York, but I'm reasonably sure I saw Simon Doonan walking his dog near Washington Square Park on Saturday night. Evidence supporting this: 1) He was only about an inch taller than me. 2) Simon Doonan has a dog. 3) He looked a little horrified when he heard me and two of main gays hollering about his

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-66355245639349828372008-04-12T17:19:00.005-04:002008-04-12T17:45:25.255-04:00

Today, I decided that I needed some culture. I woke up early, virtuous, and got coffee and dropped off dry cleaning and went to the post office. Then I walked across the park to the Brooklyn Museum, to see the Murakami exhibit. Now, to be honest with you, I didn't know much about Murakami before I went, except that he is, doy, Japanese and makes stuff that looks like anime. And I didn't really

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-41730108732106126792008-04-09T20:16:00.003-04:002008-04-09T20:22:03.054-04:00

I love Karl Lagerfeld. I don't care how crazy he is: I love him because he's crazy. I love his weird powdered-wig George Washington hair, I love his super-tight collars, I love his fucking fan. But most of all, I love him when he says things like this: Do you ever wish you had a son to pass on your wisdom to, to continue the Chanel heritage? That's the last thing I want. I hate all children. For

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-83217648372398845332008-04-08T08:09:00.003-04:002008-04-08T14:13:26.670-04:00

I was in the locker room at the gym just now, putting away my clothes, when a woman came over and opened one of the lockers in the upper bank next to me. The door promptly fell off its hinge, nearly squashing her. "See that?" I said. "Exercise is bad for you." "Actually, if I hadn't been working out so much, it would have fallen on me," she said. And then she applied stupid little

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-55606107136707806472008-04-07T18:03:00.001-04:002008-04-07T18:04:50.264-04:00

Looks like they just pried the gun out of Charlton Heston's cold, dead hand.

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-42742034910533966442008-03-28T07:34:00.000-04:002008-03-28T16:31:40.823-04:00

Jennie Smash: a weird thing is happening with my weight loss Jennie Smash: i'm DEFLATING Mads: what does that mean? Mads: that sounds very scary Jennie Smash: like, my butt has a dent in it Mads: a dimple? Jennie Smash: between the butt part and the leg part Jennie Smash: where none was before Jennie Smash: i think it's a muscle, but i can't be sure Mads: ha Jennie Smash: anything is

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-14450075334357234322008-03-27T00:59:00.002-04:002008-03-27T01:01:21.068-04:00

This evening, my friend Joe randomly reached into his jacket and pulled out a book and handed it to me. This is my favorite thing in the world. Friends of mine, I don't need Easter candy. Just surprise books. Please and thank you. Love, Hubley.

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-6293590266570147682008-03-25T08:23:00.002-04:002008-03-25T08:30:08.956-04:00

I woke up at 6:30 this morning for no apparent reason. Well, actually, that's not entirely true: I woke up at 6:30 this morning because I went to bed at 9:30 last night. I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure that's enough sleep for anyone. It's pretty amazing that I managed this, though, because my neighborhood has gone insane. Some neighbor of mine was playing really weird European techno most

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-88609305894669900392008-03-24T19:55:00.003-04:002008-03-24T19:56:57.740-04:00

Me: I just realized something. Mads: What? Me: My underpants are too big. Mads: Woo! That's how you know you've lost weight. Me: But ... in my underpants? I'm confused.

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-6793286148192597792008-03-17T20:53:00.004-04:002008-03-17T21:10:15.895-04:00

So, Spitzer, yeah? I've got stuff to say about that, but it's kinda whiny, so let's put that aside for now and talk about how geedee crazy each and every member of my family is. In the most lovable way possible, of course. This Saturday, I was out on a pub crawl when I got a text from my sister: "ARE YOU OK?" It said. I scratched my head for a minute. It's a pretty big philosophical question,

Jennie Smashtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7964635.post-49488639722785779702008-03-09T20:34:00.003-04:002008-03-09T20:41:12.313-04:00

My weekend, in bullet form: I did my taxes. I'm actually getting money back, which never happens. I'm not sure why. Everyone else I know takes their refunds and buys a small Caribbean island with them. I went to three birthday parties. I will definitely need that tax refund now. There were a lot of cabs. Also, last night I wound up in a gay go-go bar at four in the morning. You know it's time

Jennie Smash