Oh, Life.

Here are a few things that have happened to me recently, things that are pretty insignificant, but significant enough to write about on my very own personal blog.

* There is a new Landline video, and you should watch it. Why? Well, I'm not saying it features a naked Angelina Jolie ... but I'm also not NOT saying it features a naked Angelina Jolie, you dig??



* I recently saw a piece of cinema, aka a film, aka a movie, aka wasted money that I could have gotten 3 footlongs at Subway with. During said activity, I received a text message. In a questionable move on my part, I read it and responded to it during the movie. I'm the worst, I know. Fine. I would have never done it if it wasn't about something important. Or if my phone hadn't been in my pocket. Or if it wasn't a day that ended in "y." Or if I wasn't a rude, inconsiderate piece of crap. Either way, it was wrong, and I won't do it again. And why won't I do it again? Because, upon exiting the theater, I was stopped by a very vocal foreign woman who informed me that, "When you take out your phone during the movie, you may think it is just some glowing thing, but it is really distracting. Other people can't watch the movie when your glowing ..." and so on and so forth, I think, but I kept walking up the aisle at a speed so rapid it was as if I had just seen Mamma Mia. Or texted my way through a Brett Ratner film, as it may be. Ever since this occurred, I have wavered between incredible anger at this woman for giving me gruff after the fact about my "glowing thing," and feeling like a big, rude jerk who deserved to be reprimanded. Please, faithful readers, weigh in in the comments section. Am I a jerk?! Keep in mind that I know how fast one would walk out of Mamma Mia because I have, in fact, seen it, and thus, feel that I am indefinitely owed many, many reparations from the movie world.

* I was walking down the street the other day, on my way to Duane Reade to buy some new gum, and thought that one of those Children's International people were trying to talk to me about buying like, a billion children, so I stopped, took off my headphones, and proceeded to tell them I just simply did not have the time, I was very busy, and on my way to work. I then realized that the young, benevolent man was speaking to the person behind me. Nothing kills your self-esteem like realizing that the people who's job it is to harass everyone on the street doesn't even want to talk to you. Needless to say, I drowned my sorrows in sugar-full gum.

* Continuing with the theme of telling you what a good person I am, I recently got a full-body massage. Professionally. Like, I paid him money. Strange to be on the other side of that! Right ... anyway, after this massage, I paid at the front desk and and asked if they had an envelope where I could leave a tip for my strong-handed masseuse, Sergei (who was a man of little words, let me tell you. But I think he really enjoyed hearing me debate the merits of various birth control options.) I expected to just hand over some cash to the receptionist and she would take care of the rest, but no, no, she handed me an envelope and a pen. This struck me as strange, but I thought, "OK, they must be into developing really deep personal connections between masseuse and client here. Like the jetBlue of massage places." So I wrote Sergei a personal note, which went a little something like this, " Segei - Thanks so much for everything! -Jen" Well, needless to say ... they don't write personalized notes at this place. The receptionist gave me a look that said it all, it all being, "What the hell went down in there between you and Sergei that you felt compelled to leave him a note that one would find on Ashley Dupre's dresser?" I think that will be my first and last time with Sergei. At least HE didn't mind when I texted during it, though!

Happy Monday!