… or is it?

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

Random things for the rest of the weekend:

When I have annoyed my husband to death he’ll ask, “Are you fucking serious?!” I usually reply with, “No, I’m Jillian.”

I do this for two reasons: 1) I know it pisses him off; and 2) I genuinely think it’s funny.

Whatever, it IS funny.

*****

For a brief period I had gotten into the habit of randomly saying, “Well, it’s about that time…” People would always respond with, “About what time?” to which I would reply, “Oh nothing, I just like saying that.”

*****

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*Warning - This post might contain Too Much Information (TMI). Read at your own risk.*

The price of stuff is going up.

We recently went grocery shopping and a pound of butter was almost $6! Can you believe that? Why is butter so expensive? We almost had to put it on lay-away. Pretty soon we’ll have to purchase it on a stick-by-stick basis and I don’t think stores even do that. So to save money, we have come to the obvious and very logical conclusion to cut-back spending on certain items. I guess my cranberry juice doesn’t have to be OceanSpray and I suppose I can drink Dr. Fizz instead of Dr. Pepper.

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How’s this for a title theme, eh? Part Harry Potter, part Oprah ( SHE can put HER name on everything, why can’t I?) Aren’t you glad February is only 28 err… 29 days long?

I like grocery shopping. It’s a great feeling to stroll aisles heavily laden with food, picking and choosing whatever the hell I want. Do I need this? Oh, I haven’t tried this before. OMG… I gotta buy this. Grocery shopping makes me happy and it makes me feel grown up. Yes, I am the captain of the cart. Me! I choose what we’re having for dinner and dammit, it’s whatever flavor ice cream I say it is. I can do that, because I’m the captain.

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When I was single, lonely and desperate I told myself that whoever I married was going to get a pretty good deal. So many times had I witnessed countless wives and girlfriends dragging their obviously miserable boyfriends and husbands from store to store shopping; I said I would never do that to my guy. I hate shopping anyway, so I wouldn’t even do that to myself. I’ve been to movies and witnessed the male half of a couple dread going into the theater because he knows he’s in for a force-fed 2 hour estrogen feast. No guy of mine would ever endure that. In essence, I was going to be the cool girlfriend… the kick-ass wife. I told myself I would never talk during football, I would never ask him to hold my purse, I would never in a million years make him go shopping with me and I would never force him to watch a girly flick he clearly had no interest in.

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