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

But something makes me pretty sure he was referencing the almighty CLITORIS.

I have no reason to mention this quote other than to say I still don’t get what the Dad meant. How is it like a guitar string? What exactly is getting plucked? I’m not going to lie: I’m VERY familiar with my “sex” parts, but I don’t know anything down there that requires plucking. Rubbing? Sure. Stroking? Of course… but plucking? Not so much. I pride myself on having a good relationship with the big “V”. We’ve known one another my whole life, and the relationship is so good I don’t even have to call before I visit. And let’s face it: whenever I DO drop by, we both know it’s only for one reason. Well, if you want to get into specifics, maybe it’s more than just ONE reason, but you get the picture.

In other news:

The job is going well… I guess. The money is good, but it’s certainly not doing anything to warm me up to the idea of having kids myself. And I am definitely no closer to being able to tolerate teenagers. As of now, I do a pretty good job of ignoring everyone on the bus and only speaking when someone speaks to me first. I’m pretty sure the students and counselors think I hate them, but I don’t worry about it too much. In the end, the only thing that matters is me getting them to their destinations safely and on time.

So there are these little boys who like to sit behind me and talk to each other the entire trip. Everyone else has enough sense to bring an iPod or fall asleep, but not these boys. The first time they sat behind me I thought they were retarded because they kept making cow noises and rocking back and forth. But it turns out they’re just stupid. Kids these days. I want so bad to turn around and tell them I see many many years of Virginity in their future.

I’ll be honest and say that I’ve thought about shutting this blog down. Jan can’t help but remind me EVERY DAY how many deadlines I’ve missed. Seriously. He tells me even before he says “Good morning”. I would leave him, but then I’d have to get a real job. And well… real jobs suck. However, I do wanna extend my appreciation to the people that visit even though the site has gone to crap. You know who you are.

Don’t worry, I’ll make it un-crappy.

Amongst a few laughs, I registered to vote AND signed the stupid petition. And just to show him I valued the ability to create change in our government, I read the whole thing… every over-complicated word of it. I could tell he was impressed seeing someone so young taking their ‘voice’ seriously. He happily answered all the questions I posed and even offered information I didn’t ask for. For example, he was nice enough to give me some advice on marriage - you know, the hardcore stuff they won’t even put in books: “You have to train him (referring to my husband) early. You’re in control!” I laughed when I heard this. Does he know who I’m married to?

But his spigot of information didn’t turn off there. The guy dabbed sweat off his brow and then cited a statistic which I had only heard half of before:

Guy: Did you know [on average] single women live 7 years longer than married women, and married men [on average] live 10 years longer than single men?

Me: Well that sucks… are you trying to tell me something?

Guy: No, I just thought you should know.

Me: Umm, thanks.

Guy: You’re welcome.

I was tempted to ask where he got such information and if he was married himself. I doubt it, he gave off a strong impression of still living with mom. Not that there’s anything wrong with living with your mom… except if you’re a grown unmarried man in a bad fitting suit giving marriage pointers without ever having been married yourself.

But I realize there are a lot of stats I have taken at face value. Either I have read them in passing or people have relayed them to me from a source of their own finding. Like when I was 13 my mom took me to the doctor to discuss my menstruation cycle. All I knew was now I could have babies; I was to learn later there was a bit more to it than that. Anyway, my doctor gave me all these pamphlets about a woman’s body and just what it’s going through during that “time of month”. I read in one of them that on average a woman loses half a cup of blood during her period, though it may seem like more. This comforted me because in my mind it set some kind of boundary. I wouldn’t die or be terribly weakened from losing just half a cup over a span of 5-7 days. Whew.

I have read that most accidents happen within 5 miles of home, that people drive an average of 12,000 miles a year, that women speak twice as any words as men in a day, that the average career of a NFL running back is 5 years, that the more times you get married the more likely each marriage is to fail, that by 2025 more kids will be born out of wedlock than in, and that if a guy eats pineapple his sperm will taste yummy.

I can’t remember where on earth I read the last one.

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

Don’t cry, that just makes it awkward for both of us.

In the meantime, have a great weekend and happy blogging to all!

Your pal,

Jillian.

I don’t normally review things, so the fact I’m doing so now should definitely tell you something.

The book I am recommending is called “Soon I Will Be Invincible” by Austin Grossman. This novel takes place in a world of superheroes and villains. If you’re a fan of comics and the formula behind them, then this is a must-read. The story is told from the point-of-view of Doctor Impossible (evil genius and ruler of the world hopeful) and Fatale (female cyborg and newest member of The Champions - the most famous Superhero team in the world). The novel starts with Doctor Impossible in prison and news that the strongest member of The Champions is missing. Through Doctor Impossible we learn how he landed himself behind bars and exactly what drives his quest for world domination. Fatale shows us what it feels like to be the new guy; we experience her struggle to fit in, to understand her new teammates, and to truly find her place in the world. The reader is lead down a path of origin stories, flashbacks, and memories. In the end we learn how intricately the main characters are connected, what motivates them, and who or what was behind the hero disappearance.

It’s been a long time since a novel engaged me so much I finished it in a day. Reading this book was not only interesting and fun, but in a way, it reminded me of how exciting it can be to slip into a different world and completely lose myself. Grossman manages to take a universe, one that we are all familiar with in some way, and make it real. The men and women portrayed are more than just masked crime fighters and diabolical criminals, they are very much human. Even though some individuals boast super strength, the power of flight, and other God-like abilities, they experience love, pain, and loss just like us.

The writing is natural and flows extremely well. The use of imagery is superb. Where some authors can make your head explode with the amount of description or leave you confused by not giving enough information, Grossman does a wonderful job of painting a picture. The humor never tries too hard and a few parts made me laugh out loud. All the characters are likable on some level, which makes getting to know them a process you look forward to. Whether or not they fall on the side of good or evil, Grossman does a great job of creating 3-dimensional people you can really feel for and relate to. “Soon I Will Be Invincible” is a book unlike any other. It’s creative, funny, witty, and simply a good read.

So yeah, check it out.

For more info:

Soon I Will Be Invincible on Amazon

Soon I Will Be Invincible - Official Website

These past two weeks have been a little rough on me though.

First of all, it’s hot as fuck. Normally, I don’t mind the heat. I can function pretty well in it. But for some reason our apartment is now doubling as a sauna, and no matter how high we turn up the A/C it just doesn’t cut it. So that sucks and it also screws up my rest. I don’t know about you guys, but I take my sleepy time very seriously. I think all lazy people do.

Secondly, last Wednesday (6/11/08) I had my driving test (which as you know [because I just told you], I passed). I was a complete ball of nerves. I spent the duration of the test trying not to snap from the pressure and begin randomly hitting and running other cars off the road. The officer in charge of giving the test was really nice and actually made me feel a lot more comfortable than I thought I would. There I was building up the big day in my mind, only to get there and have her tell me to smile and relax. Oddly enough, that was all it took.

Third, I just got two trips under my belt. This past Wednesday and Thursday, I drove the kiddies to Raging Waters and Disneyland. Raging Waters was only a half day thing, so I didn’t get to go in. However, I did bring along my DVD player and entertained myself by re-watching the Awesomeness that is “Superbad“. But since the Disneyland trip was an all day thing, I was offered a free ticket into the park. And umm yeah, THAT TOTALLY KICKED ASS! I could definitely make a day of riding Star Tours and Space Mountain, both of those rides are tops. Aside from the heat, the only damper on the day was not having Jan there or someone else I have ANYTHING in common with (Disneyland minus loved one(s) and/or good friend(s) = Kinda Lame). But hell, I shouldn’t complain. They pay me for the WHOLE DAY… so while I was screaming my lungs out on Splash Mountain, I was also raking in the dough. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!

Also, Disneyland has these really delish hand-dipped corndogs. The one I had was pretty good, but it reminded me of something:

Weird, huh?

Moving on…

I don’t know if the people I drive for are aware I’ve only had my license for a week. I imagine they don’t. I guess it’s not something you go around mentioning. “Dude, you’re totally safe. I’ve been driving since like yesterday.” But anyway, I thought I would list a few things a driver might want to avoid… especially if they are trying to build up passenger confidence in them. Now I’m not saying *I* did these things, but:

Don’t drive over the curb. Not only can it fuck up the tires, it’s not much fun for the people inside the bus.

Avoid driving over the curb. Seriously.

Try not to drive over the curb. People might start to think you don’t know what the heck you’re doing.

And lastly:

Be sure to NOT drive over the curb. Just to reiterate.

… It’s like they come out of nowhere.