Interview Tag

Posted on July 29th, 2010 by Jean

I was nervous to sit down with World Renowned Reporter, *Megan.
 

 
She looked like she meant business when she sat down with her notepad in hand.
 
I only hoped I’d be up for the questions she would pose.
 
MEGAN: If you could travel to one place in the world and you had to leave today, where would you be headed and why?
 
ME: Oh my gosh, I have to leave right now? I’m not even packed! I guess I’d better fly to Los Angeles and hope my sister can pick me up. I might be able to fit into some of her clothes. Oh heck, I’ve got charge cards. Sure, I’m ready. Where’s my ride?
 
MEGAN:No, you insolant boob. It was merely a hypothetical question. Care to try again?
 
ME: Oh, ok. Anywhere in the world….
 
MEGAN: Tick tock, Jean. Step it up.
 
ME: You know what? I’m still gonna say my sister’s house. She just recently moved, and I haven’t even seen the place. So, yes, I think I’ll fly into Los Angeles.
 
MEGAN: Fine. Good. Los Angeles. Next question: What are your talents, and what are some of the areas in which you wish you had talent but do not?
 
ME: I think I’m talented with PhotoShop. I can also google really quickly to get answers to my husband’s obscure questions. I pretty successfully juggle being a Mom, a wife, and a business owner. I wish I could ride a horse. Naw, I don’t really wish that! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!!! My husband would wish that for me! I wish my talent was getting in shape and staying there. Does that qualify?
 
MEGAN: Sure, that qualifies. I’m sure you speak for many who wish they had the talent of … ahem… health. ::: rolls eyes ::: Next question: What do you love the most about your life and why?
 
ME: I love the flexibility of my work schedule!! Love, love, love it! Seriously, I work about 2 weeks out of the month. I’m a graphic designer, and create (or change) ads one week. The next week I put on my publisher hat, and get our magazines ready to print. So, during my off-time, I get to spoil my children with lots of attention! Plus, we work out of our house, so we, Tom & the kids and I, have a lot of quality time together.
 
MEGAN: Finally, I think you’re letting us see the real you! Question number 4: What are you most afraid of?
 
ME: I hope this doesn’t sound silly, but my biggest fear is home invasion. I check all the doors each night, and make sure the gates are closed. I check on my daughters in their beds. I just want us all to be safe, in our home. It’s a scary world out there, and a shame these thoughts have to enter my head.
 
MEGAN: Amen. Ok, let’s end on a lighter note. My final question is, what is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you?
 
ME: Just one? I’ve got a few. Hard to narrow ’em down. Let’s see… Well, for starters, I was in high school, but away on a debate tournament. There were a whole bunch of us sitting around, laughing and joking. Well, one guy was SO FUNNY, I literally lost control of my bladder! I had to run to the bathroom and freshen up as best I could. Another time, I was on a date. The guy and I had decided to snuggle in the back of his car. I must have been tired, and fell asleep. Know what woke me up? The sound of my own fart!
 
MEGAN: I’m afraid that’s all we have time for, Jean. Thank you.
 
If you’d like to be interviewed, please say Interview Me in the comments. I will send you five questions specific to you.

 
*Megan is a lovely friend who no longer blogs. This post was originally published February 8, 2008 on MySpace.

Can A Whore Get A Drink?

Posted on July 11th, 2010 by Jean


 

I had such a strange dream last night. Thank you, Taco Bell.
 
In this dream, I was a prostitute. Quiet! I worked in a swanky Mall -slash- Casino -slash- Hotel. Police were looking for a missing person, and all the whores’ suites were to be searched. My trick (is that the right term?) was a nice, elderly gentleman who wanted to buy me a drink. I was just about to tell the bartender my order when my date cut me off, and ordered two shots of a clear liquor. Then it dawned on me. Can a whore order a drink, or do you have to just take what you’re offered?
 
Typical of a casino, it was hard to find my way around. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to exit! Plus, the mall was very enticing. I’ll bet I spent a lot of my earnings there.
 
• Tell me a strange dream you’ve had.
• If you worked in a mall, would you spend a lot of money there?
• Do you think a prostitute can order the drink of her choice?

The Frenchman Who Abandoned Me (Updated)

Posted on February 20th, 2010 by Jean

This blog was originally posted on MySpace October 3, 2008. It was my submission to the now defunct Group Blogging Experience (GBE). The hostess, Alicia, would suggest a word each week, and participants would define the word with stories, photos, poems, etc. The blogs were linked by Alicia, and new friendships were formed.
 
An update to this story has been added at the bottom. Thanks for reading!

 
GBE 56 – ABANDON
 
We hired a carpenter.

Not really him.


 
He’s french.
 

Not too stereotypical.


 
He has done work for us in the past.
 

Mantel, tiled fireplace, entertainment center, and bar.


 
Yesterday he swung by the house to begin installing our new entertainment center. All the pieces were brought into the room. We thought, in a few hours, everything would be in place. But no. He had to go pick up his son, and promised to be back.
 

Don't believe him.


 
Hours passed. He did not return.
 
His son called.
 

You did not know I was so fluent in French.


 
Mon Dieu! No, we don’t know where your father is.
 
Then his cat phoned.
 

Have you ever tried consoling a cat over the phone?


 
Day turned into night. The carpenter never returned.
 
If anyone can read these plans…
 

Zee plans.


 
… and figure out how to complete the project…
 

Install the secret door so we can hide behind the t.v.


 
… we would be forever grateful.
 
F.Y.I. ~ The last time he abandoned the project, we found him in front of a slot machine.
 

Sacre Bleu! You 'ave found me!


 
 


 
UPDATE 02/20/10: The Frenchman professed to being pulled away by a family emergency so secretive even his own son and cat were not made aware of it. I still see him from time to time, wandering the grocery store in his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, chest hair wild and unkempt in stark contrast to his precisely-groomed mustache. I imagine him muttering under his breath, “Zere iz zee beach ooh scorned moi.”, but thankfully he doesn’t notice me.
 
My husband trolled a local bar for a cheap replacement who would finish the job for cash. After much coaxing, he finally found a taker, and our entertainment center was completed. The secret door allowing access to the space behind the t.v. was never installed, bursting my dreams of hiding from the children and having wild sex with the television blaring. Or maybe just hiding from the children and sitting quietly in the corner.
 

Completed but not the ultimate hiding place.


 
• Has a Frenchman ever let you down?
• Do you take part in blogging groups?
• Where do you hide from the children?

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