Jen

The street “My Buttocks,” is located right in between State and Wabash.

Tee hee. I feel all sneaky right now. I’m in Bill’s office trying to fix his computer, and yet I am blogging. Plus, I have an awesome view of the lakefront. I think this office should be all mine.

Becky, you rock. I cannot believe that you found us yoga mats!!! Incredible!

Later on, I’m going to need your (meaning our 6 confirmed readers) for some help. More on that during the afternoon blog.

Oh, my swollen tongue is better. An update on that later as well.

It happened to me yet again on Saturday. I now realize that brunettes get no respect. Ok, I’m purchasing some items and I have to show my drivers license to prove that the check I am writing is mine. Anyway, this guy is a total hole to me. He’s too busy checking out the girl behind me, picking his nose, scratching his balls – you know, whatever holes do (ok, he wasn’t doing the last two. . .) So, I take out my drivers license (the picture is of me with bleached blonde hair- the hair that I sported for 2 years) and he looks at it and here’s the conversation:
hole: “Oh, you used to be blonde.”
Me: “yeah.”
Hole: Looks at drivers license, looks at me, then again at license then at me and smiles. Then he gives me the once over. “Well, Jennifer,” as he hands me back my license, “have a great day.” ( I love how I’m Jennifer now that I used to have a different hair color.)
Me: “Well, hole, why don’t you go f*ck yourself.” Ok, I didn’t say that. But I’m tired of holes such as this one. One time I went to the bank and once again I had to show my ID. Then the guy says, “You were a cute blonde, but brown is a good color on you too.” At least he tried to cover his tracks. Bastard.