Job Ap Essay

 “The Sister” And “The Niece,” couple years or so ago.

Unlucky four-leaf-clover CONTEST!!

LANCE, you are the winner!!! 

Catherine said, “I’m going to have to call LANCE the winner with this post….   Thanks for the amazing and symbolic idea, Lance!     And thank you Jannie, for hosting this whole thing…  I’ll take a couple of photos of the disposal…   Catherine”

Well, if that ain’t the greatest thing!   You can read Lance‘s contest entry in the comments below here.  And if you aren’t familiar with Lance‘s  “Jungle Of Life” blog yet, you need to do yourself a favor and immerse yourself in his pool of lightness and well-being.  So, in case you didn’t get it those first 4 links, the winner is Lance,  Lance,  Lance !!!   And one more for HAPPY NEW YEAR luck,  LANCE!!!!!

And I, Jannie have to personally give Glenn an honorable mention for all his totally mind-bending ideas, his is a one-off imagination for sure and I love his comments on this blog.  And to each and every one of you for giving your ideas and making this such a blast,  TANK THANK YOU ALL!  Jannie xo

Below is the original post…

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2 days ago I linked to a certain “100 Words A Day” blog post.   Remember the heartbreaking hilarity of that effing clover?

Well, it seems Catherine is up for ideas on how to best set that clover, thus herself, free. 

She writes,  “I plan to ceremoniously dispose of the clover on January 1.  It looks pretty much EXACTLY like the pic that Jannie posted.  Any good ideas for ritual clover sacrifice?  Throw it off a tall building?  Run it over with the car?”

Jannie suggests that Catherine toss the clover in a blender with 1/8 cup of olive oil, a raw egg, 2 cups water, one dash pepper, 2 dashes salt, one hair of her head and a squirt of liquid dish soap.  Whip on highest speed for 1 minute.  Then pour the mixture at the rootline of the nearest evergreen tree while chanting,  “Oogie, oogie, boogie-boo,  I pour this goopy-goo on you.  2008 was rather sucky.  But 2009 will be effing lucky.”   [ But I am, of course not eligible to participate ! ]  [ Edit at 9:45 a.m. Monday the 29th. ]

How ‘bout you, Blogging Buddies??  Suggestions how Catherine might sacrifice the offending clover?  And whichever idea Catherine likes best, the WINNER will receive not one, but two, YES, TWO autographed copies of Jannie’s upcoming “I Need A Man” CD !!   You may enter as many tmes as you wish.

Contest closes at 12:00 noon, Central Time Dec. 31 2008. 

(Offer void where prohibited.  Battering not included.  Objects in blog may appear closer than in reality.  No newt eyes harmed in the creation of this post.)

And “The Real Jannie” is…?

 photo credit: air liquide

As I’ve mentioned in e-mails to a couple of you lately, how can you be sure who Jannie Funster really is?  Or if I even exist at all?  

Am I actually an 89-year-old man living in a drafty hut with 17 cats in Eastern Mongolia?  Or a former champion mig welder putting myself through the University of Nevada law school by working part-time as a Cirque de Soleil contortionist?  Could I be a spy with a penchant for munching raw carrots while flinging my bra in the moonlight, who couldn’t sing a note (let alone write a song,) if my double agent life depended on it?  (Darn, I swore I wouldn’t mention the word “bra” in a post again for at least a week.  Whoops.)

But … here’s your chance to know The Real Jannie.  Ask me anything you’d like about me.   Anything!  Serious or silly, I will answer all queries to the best of my knowledge and my somewhat limited intellectual abilitites. 

Fire away!

— Jannie.  (Or am I?)

To flounce or not to flounce

photo credit: fotokes

When I think of Madlibs I think of Karen R. whom I met in 7th grade.  And when I think of Karen R. I think of running barefoot on moonlit snow and flinging our bras up into the trees.  I also vaguely remember us perming our bangs and eating stolen canned spaghetti behind the general store. [Edit:  I should metion that Karen R. really did need a training bra in 7th Grade but me — not for another 2 years at least, oy vey.]

Ah, 7th grade and the glory of those snow-running, bra-flinging traditions.

Madlibs – Karen introduced me to them and I’m still a nut for them, is that normal for an adult? 

Below is one I did not too long ago.

Hamlet’s 3rd Soliloquy, part one

(And I hate the double-spacing but it and this still-bolded font will have to do until I learn how to whoop some more Wordpress buttock.  So here goes.)

To flounce or not to flounce, – that is the alcohol:

Whether ’tis nobler in the mountain to suffer

The slings and thrills of greasy fortune,

Or to take jewels against a sea of hospitals,

And by stumbling end them.  To die, – to upchuck

No more; and by an upchuck to say we end

The legend and the 3,157 natural shocks

That flesh is poet to, – ’tis a  migraine

quietly to be wish’d.  To die, – to upchuck, –

To upchuck! perchance to haunt! ay, there’s the machine;

For in that upchuck of death what marshmallow may come

When we have galloped off this scanty coil,

Must give us armor. There’s the bedspread

that makes leaves of so dim-witted life…

(to be continued, sometime.)

My Big Eye

I need you to be brutally frank.  (Or bob or larry if you have to. )

Does my big eye bug you?

I forget most of the time its all-seeingness is up there bringing joy to the world, but does it freak you out? 

I never meant for it to be so big but given the height to width ratio of the original jpeg cropped to fit the 940 x 140 pixel header of this theme, My Big Eye resulted. 

Below is said “original” jpeg, taken by yours truly while sitting in my car one day in the parking lot of Kelly’s pre-school.   I “fuzzed it up” a bit via my Kodak program and my sister Photoshopped out my warts and added the sky background, via e-mail from Canada.