Jillian Approved: Humor, News and Nonsense

*Dusts off her keyboard*

I recently read somewhere that websites live and die by their update schedule. If that’s the case, then this website is something of a zombie. Officially it’s dead, but I enjoy giving it just enough juice to reanimate for a while. Clearly I have not been the least bit interested in updating this thing, but something in me demands I keep paying the monthly host fees to keep it online. Weird, huh? I am both attracted to this site and yet repelled. The attraction is easy to explain. This site is full of original pieces (except for a few guest posts). I love everything on here. This is the biggest body of written material I have, and dammit, I’m proud of it. I’m proud of the fact I can write about ‘dookie‘ and ‘sex‘ and ‘tigolebitties‘ – three things I have a load of experience in.

Wait. Is this true?

But as for what repels me though: I suspect it’s the sweet glaze of laziness coating my life. It’s a constant struggle to do ANYTHING. Everything just seems to be such a chore. Work is a chore. Cleaning up is a chore. Looking for a better job (so I can achieve even more mediocrity) is a chore. And a lot of times, writing is a chore. So I don’t know, either I’m in some kind of funk (and have been for the last 26 years) or something is genuinely wrong with me. Now I’m not quick to toss out words like “depression” or “loser”, but something is going on with me. Hopefully it’s just a case of “Toomuchawesomeitis”. If you don’t know what that is, now is the time to seriously rethink your Internet usage.

In other news, Entrecard recently closed my account with them. Apparently when you don’t update your blog in 90 days they pull the plug. I know I shouldn’t be upset, but do you know how long it took me to amass over 20,000 credits?! And just when I was planning to launch a huge comeback, too! Oh well. I’m not going back, though. I was never good at dropping credits and honestly, I don’t see how people have time for it. Is there really a need for dropping credits, Facebooking, MySpacing, and Tweeting all in the same day? Think: all this in addition to being human. No thanks. My relationship with Entrecard has ended (they dumped me), I closed my MySpace account (this of my own accord, thank you very much), and anyone “following” me on Twitter knows I almost never update. I could at least say I was behind the idea of Entrecard, but I still don’t see the point of Twitter. I know a lot of people are having success with it… even famous people are on there now. But even though I might like you, I really don’t care what the hell you’re doing at 3:21 in the afternoon. I don’t even care what my husband is doing at 3:21 in the afternoon. So… yeah.

However, I do Facebook. I find this site is a good way to keep in touch with the people that linger on the fringes of our lives. You know who I’m talking about. Facebook lets you talk to people you’re kinda sorta interested in, but not enough to actually call or hang out with. And if you’re anything like me, some of these people might include family. So I’m not giving up on social networking completely, but I am going to pick one and stick with it.

Until next time! Which, believe it or not, will be soon!

**Photo courtesy of atp_tyreseus**

So I have big breasts. It’s not unusual for people to stare and beg to rub things on them, only to leave disappointed when I refuse. As a teen, the heat missiles strapped to my chest were good for drawing the attention of seedy men. I remember how pimps used to hit on me, ensuring I would never opt for a life on the street. Nothing made the walk home from school more uncomfortable than hearing shouts of, “Damn gurl, bring those juicy D’s over to Daddy!” This of course, was cause for offense. If I were ever going to sell myself, why have a middle man? Surely I’d be better off NOT having someone beat me and take half of my money? That’s just Bad Business 101. No way those fools were gonna play me.

More about 'big ole titties'...

If there is one song that does it for me, it’s “Come Go With Me” by Teddy Pendergrass. This is one of my FAVORITE songs ever. I fell in love with it the first time I heard it and now every time it comes on I feel things, good things.

A few nights ago I decided to look up the lyrics. After reading the words, the song has taken on a slightly different meaning. I think maybe, just maybe, Teddy was a little desperate and under the cover of night wanted to grab himself a moped.

Lets take a closer look:

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I found out not to long ago that on a scale of 1 to “I want to have sex with you”, I was rated about a 6. Which, if I may translate, means I’m only 4 beers and a shrug of “why not?” from being the best (or worse) night of your life.

Chris, thank you for your honesty.

I suppose this should bother me, but it doesn’t. Everything needs a rating: food, movies, cars, TV shows… why not sex appeal? If more people knew where they stood, it would prevent a ton of disappointment. A man who is clearly a 3 would not, under any circumstances, go after a woman rated higher than a 5.

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