stupid stories

Everyone, meet Sarah-sarah-1.jpg

Sarah, this is everyone… sarah-2.jpg

Sarah is my adorable 15 year old cousin. Sarah and I share the best middle name in the whole wide world… Jean. Sarah and I are both total dorks. Sarah and I have been spending a lot of time together lately. Sarah and I make a fun combination!

Last Sunday night, I went and picked up Sarah in Gower, and we headed up to St Joe, which is only 15 minutes from Gower, to hang out. We drove around for a little bit trying to figure out where we were going, and we finally landed at Cheddars. The food was good, the conversation was great, and the waiter was weird… Anyway, after Cheddars, we were heading back to Gower (because what else is there to do in st joe on a sunday night?) when we passed the Hallmark- the closed Hallmark. Sarah then YELLS out, “Wait! Go back! I want to go look through the dumpster!” Me- “You’re weird.” BUT, due to Sarah’s persistance and my curiousity, we turned around and headed for the back of the store. Apparently, one of Sarah’s friends found a WHOLE candle set when she went dumpster diving that matched her room!!!! Oh, to be 15 again… So, Sarah gets out of the car, when it’s like 30 degrees outside, wearing shorts and flip flops, and starts digging through the dumpster.


How’s that for proof? Unfortunately, her search turned up empty. Who would have thought? We had to try though, because you never know when a treasure might be waiting just underneath all the empty boxes… Ah, that’s my girl!


My dad and I had some QBT tonight- Quality Bonding Time.  We were discussing my inclination to feel like the bastard step child in the family, and he was doing his best to reassure me in the way that only men can do- by trying to come up with solutions.  So, we talked, and I let him do the man thing to the best of my female ability.  Towards the end of our conversation, he says, “Jess, we have something we’ve never told you.”  (i knew something good was coming- my dad can come up with bull shit like you wouldn’t even believe…)  “You’re adopted.”  Me- “So, that’s why I look like my mom, and have my dad’s chicken legs and non-existent butt?  Oh, and that’s why I act just like mom and you put together?  Okay, dad.”  Him- “No, really.  You’re adopted.”  Me- “You’re so funny.”  Him- “We didn’t want to tell you, but I felt like now was a good time.”  Me- “At least I know why I feel like the bastard step child sometimes.”  Him- “It’s because you are.”

Man, my dad is a funny guy.

Last Friday, today, and tomorrow, I am a spanish teacher. Yes, that's right. A spanish teacher. Do I know spanish? Un poco, pero no mucho. (i thought about writing this entire entry in spanish, but then i realized not many people who read this would actually be able to read it, and the story wouldn't be nearly as funny… besides, do you know how much work that would be for me? no bueno…) I have two Spanish 2 classes, two Spanish 4 classes, and a Heritage Speakers class. That class is stinkin' cool- it's primarily students whose native language is Spanish, so I understood about, oh, 5% of the conversation going on around me. It's really interesting (or should i say interesante?…) to talk with them- I'm looking forward to having that class again. BUT, this is not the point of my story…

On Friday during 5th hour (which is the biggest class, by the way), the students were studying for their upcoming final and I was… well, I don't know what I was doing, but my back was hurting, so I decided to stretch back in the rolly desk chair that I was sitting in. I had popped my back and was stretching just a liiiiittle further back before returning to my upright and locked position when suddenly, disaster struck. I felt the wheels of the chair start to slip out from under me and…. BAM, I hit the floor. Big time. So, here I am, with the biggest class of the day, sitting in a chair that has now flipped onto its backside and taken me with it. As I laid there laughing (because that's how i cope with looking like an idiot) and listening to a room full of students laughing, I thought to myself, "There is absolutely no graceful or dignified way to recover from this." So I straddled the chair, since it was the only way I could sit up (thank God i was wearing capris instead of a skirt…), looked at the class, and said, "You have my full permission to laugh, because that was hilarious…" And they did. A lot and loudly. Thanks, guys. I knew that I'd have a battle wound from the experience, but what I didn't know is that it would look like this~


Um, yes- can you say it with me now? Mucho penoso… very painful. It hurts to sit. It hurts to stand up. It hurts to walk. It hurts to ride my bike over bumps. It hurts when I bump my leg into things. It hurts to lay down. It just hurts. And I discovered another bruise on the opposite leg last night when my mom playfully bumped the back of my calf and searing pain shot through my body. My mom's a She-Ra and all, but it wasn't her astromical strength that did me in- it was that she managed to land riiiight on the other bruise with her knee. I always say if you're going to do it, do it right, and, well, I think I did this one up right.

Let's hope the chair decided to cooperate with me the next two days…

Last weekend, I went to my home-away-from-home to celebrate my b-day with great friends. Friday night, we had Mudhouse (seriously, folks- i’m an addict.) and went to Ernie Bigg’s, a dueling piano bar.

group.jpgSo fun. I highly recommend it.

Christen and Chris were taking their niece to Silver Dollar City on Saturday, and invited me to come along. I hadn’t been in a while and nothing is boring with Christen around, so I took their invitation and off to Steal Your Dollar City we went. It was pretty good times- a little chilly, but still fun. However, allow me to tell you why vegetarians should NEVER go to SDC and plan to eat a meal…

It was dinnertime, and like most people at dinnertime do, I started my exploration to find something to eat. Before I really get started in this story, let me tell you the “special event” that is going on at SDC right now- it’s the Bluegrass and BBQ Festival… The bluegrass was great. The BBQ? Well, remember that, as stated, I’m a vegetarian. So, we roll up to the place where we’re going to eat, and look at what I’m greeted with…

bbq sign.jpg

Oh, baby- the house of barbeque… my dream. I looked around inside and my options were meat, meat, meat, or corn. I decided to go for the corn. BUT here’s the problem. There was no corn. HOW DO YOU RUN OUT OF CORN AT A BBQ FESTIVAL? AND AT SDC? Come on here, people. Help a vegetarian out. So, I proceeded to go to the place that sauteed veggies on a big skillet that I saw when we were walking around earlier. Christen came with me on my quest. We found the place, I was set to order, but then, OH!, what’s in both varieties they have? One has chicken, one has ham… strike 2. Then I saw a place with fried potatoes- I can eat fried potatoes! I went up to the little hut, explained my predicament and asked if I could make my own sort of combo. She then informed me that they fry the potatoes in lard- would that be okay? NO!!! Strike 3- I was out. SO, I gave up and decided to go back to the fish place on the other side of the park that I saw while Chris and Emily were riding a water ride (great idea, guys…). At this time is was around 5:45-6ish, and when I rolled up to the fish place, here’s what I found-


Anybody notice anything wrong here? Yeah, it was closed. IT’S DINNER TIME AT SDC!!! What dinner-type place closes before 6:30 at an amusement park? Jim Owen’s Fish Camp and Grill. That kind of place. is there such thing as strike 4? So, what did I do? Oh, I found my dinner.

kettle corn.jpg Kettle corn. Sweet kettle corn… how I love thee and how I ate over half the bag… But I still had my free meal ticket, so I kept up the quest so that free wouldn’t be wasted. I finally found something at 6:30- a half hour before the park closed. What does free get you at SDC? This~

potatoes.jpg Yum. Potato chips and a coke. THUMBS UP!
Thanks, SDC for a great dinner. I mean, popcorn and potato chips are great and all, but… I expected more from you. Christen suggested I sue SDC for vegetarian’s rights and then support her off the money. Sounds like a great idea to me. Anybody know a good lawyer?…

rocking chair.jpg christen.jpg

(me and my cohort resting after an exhausting adventure through the park…)

So, I was running yesterday (seems to be a common theme of posts lately…) and I was almost killed. No- it wasn't a goose this time, so don't hate the little buggers quite yet. There's about a block of road on the first quarter mile of my route where there's no sidewalk and people seem to find runners foriegners on. This huge SUV, probably the size of my house, was turning right onto the aforementioned stretch of road and apparantly, the driver isn't accustomed to looking both ways, and I almost got nailed. Okay, maybe it wasn't actually the size of my house, and maybe I didn't almost get nailed, BUT she did have to swerve when she realized I was there to not come dangerously close. So, what happened? I'm glad you asked… or I asked… or whatever. This section of road isn't exactly the most high tec of the LS road system, and the edge of the road just kind of drops off, maybe a foot or so. When I saw the giant vehicle of destruction careening in my direction, I instinctively went to the edge of the road, or more like it, the drop off. Aaaaaaaaand, the good ole' ankle rolled. Ouch. So, what did I do? I kept running for 2 more miles. It only makes sense, right? I mean, once you hurt yourself, you should keep going, especially when you'll be pounding the injury repeatedly. Needless to say (but i'm still going to say it) my ankle and the attached leg is a little sore today. Hopefully I won't have to chase any chickens this weekend in Russellville… Seriously, folks. This kind of genious doesn't come in just anyone. Only the finest can do what I do. I think maybe that running has decided that it doesn't want to be my friend this week, which is okay. I just hope next week doesn't bring anymore killer geese or blind drivers…

(there's really no point to this post other than me wanting your sympathy, so feel free to give it generously now…)

I just got back from a morning jog, and before I bathe myself in the light of the sun (yes, being a substitute teacher is difficult, but someone has to do it…), I thought I’d pose a burning question to you all. I was following my usual running route when I found an unusual object in my path- a goose. My route goes around a local lake not too far from my house, and while I’m used to seeing the geese hanging out in the water, I’m not so used to seeing them on the road. Three times I came across these strange little creatures, squaking or yelling or… whatever the heck it is they do. There was one lone goose, the one mentioned earlier, that decided to have a staring contest with me. As I’m running past the thing, the thought suddenly occurred to me- I could be mauled by a goose today! I had images of an attack goose pecking at my calves, trying to eat my flesh off, how I would retaliate, and how I would limp back home after my stellar defeat of the once-breathing goose. It was actually quite comical. But, the question then in my mind became, do geese have teeth?…

Ah, what a weekend- You know where I was? Thayer. Not here, but Thayer. (seriously, that joke will never get old) I travelled this weekend to Springfield, and then on to Thayer, Mo with No Longer Quiet to help out at a Disciple Now. It’s interesting down Thayer. (HA!) At dinner on Saturday night, Eric, Christen, Joanna and I decided that we were actually on an episode of Punk’d and that at any moment, Ashton was going to pop out and tell us that he got us good. It didn’t happen, though. Allow me to enlighten you- our rec time consisted of: 1. bowling, 2. football (girls against guys, full tackle, but with boys with different handicaps, such as you can only use one leg, or you have to run like a monkey…), 3. building soap box derby cars out of random objects in the back of a truck (i’m not kidding- there were junior highers with a welder, a metal saw, and other random power tools… no safety concerns at all), 4. chasing chickens (again, I’m not kidding. they had to chase 6 chickens and see who could get them back in the box the fastest. all i have to say is watch out for the poo…), and last, but definitely not least, 5. a soap box derby race. Where were we again?… ALTERNATE REALITY. My role for the weekend? Snotty city girl. And I played it quite well with my stylish skirts, amazing new knit orange scarf, my big sunglasses, and my refusal to chase chickens, thank you very much. Someone’s got to be “that girl”- might as well be me! In spite of all the… um, unusual activity, and some students with hearts completely distracted by the world, I know that the Lord still used us as His instruments, big sunglasses and all. If nothing else, the students heard some hard hitting truth, and it’s now their choice what they’re going to do with it. It’s so great to be a part of such an incredible ministry- the Lord is really doing great things through the men of No Longer Quiet, and I love seeing them in action. BUT, that’s not the point of my writings, my friends. Oh, no. I have an even bigger story to tell you all. And now begins… THE GREAT CHEESE CAPER!
I departed from Springfield last night at the late hour of 8:45 pm. Already exhausted from a weekend of unabridged enjoyment, I was a little anxious about the 2 1/2 hour drive that lay ahead. However, I had made my liter of Masala Chai iced tea (yeah, i said liter), and was ready to go. On the road, I was conversing with April, one of my b.f.f.’s, (and when i say i was conversing “with”, what i mean was i was talking and she was listening… i love that girl for so many reasons. her amazing listening skills are just one of the many) when suddenly, what did I see? The glowing billboard representing none other than Osceola Cheese. Ah, the cheesy goodness. The sign said to me, “Stop! Sample from our decilious array of over 100 cheeses! All you have to do is grab a toothpick and enjoy the dairy delights! ONLY 21 MILES AHEAD.” I said to April, I must stop! I NEED CHEESE!!! She warned me not to do anything irrational… I could feel the anticipation growing as I grew closer to the building of joy awaiting my tastebuds. Next billboard- “AHEAD 8 MILES” I was so close! I could taste the fajita cheese, the havarti, the provolone, the smoked cheddar, the gouda!!!! It was almost too much for my senses to handle. 5 miles, 4 miles, 3 miles, 2 miles, only 1 more mile left till the promised land of dairy! I pull into Osceola, and what do I find? The beautiful neon lights of the dairy cases snuffed out, my cheese left alone, and locked doors standing between me and my destiny. Didn’t the people of Osceola know that I was coming? Couldn’t they sense my emotion, my desire? And what did they do? Closed down 3 hours before I could live my happily ever after. So I broke in. Yeah, I shattered those glass doors, and I ran in, declaring, “THEY CAN PUT UP THE CLOSED SIGN, BUT THEY’LL NEVER TAKE MY CHEEEEEEEEESE!!!” As I sat among shattered glass and tiny little Tupperwares of cheese, devouring every little chunk, I realized that I had reached nirvana. There was no where else to go from here… I had achieved perfection through cheese. Suddenly, the sirens awoke me from my cheese bliss, and I heard the shouts of the officers coming to take me away from my dream. That little Osceola mouse must have ratted me out… I thought we had something special! I gathered up all the little Tupperwares that I could, and I began to run, screaming “NOOOOOO” at the top of my lungs (while putting visual quotes around “no”, of course…). I ran like chickens run from the hands of their would-be captors! I made it into the woods, and I hid from the men trying to come between me and my tasty morsels. They searched and searched with their giant Mag lights and smelly dogs, but my snotty city girl cunning and stealth protected me. As the sun began to emerge, so I emerged from the woods, slowly, carefully, as not to be seen by my would-be captors. I raced back to my get away car, jumped in through the open sunroof, and off I sped, leaving my precious cheese behind, but knowing that our time together would never be forgotten. Here’s to you, Osceola Cheese Factory. I’ll never let go!…

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