I fear for America’s youth.

So a couple days ago, I was sitting at my desk minding my own business when I got a text message on my phone.

“Heyyyyyyyyy!!! Its Jordyyyynnnn!”

Great, I thought to myself. Spam has reached the world of text messaging. I ignored it, but about 10 seconds later, I got another one.

“Its me Jordyn!!!!”

Thinking that whoever was sending the texts might continue to do so (and that it might make good blog fodder), I decided I should reply, not knowing then that I was about to engage in what turned out to be a hilarious (at least to me) string of texts.

Me: I think you have the wrong number.

Her: Noooooo [what is it with all the extra letters?] you know me. Its Jordyyyyyyyyyn!

Me: I do? Then who am I?

Her: Your Christian B! idk how to spell ur last name lol

Me: not so much.

Her: not so much what?

Me: that is not my name. you have the wrong number.

Her: No I dont. your christian! Perry gave me ur #.

Me: i don’t know perry either, unless you are referring to the platypus on Phineas and Ferb.

Her: yes you do. perry gave me ur ####. she is texting the same number and I know its u!!!! If ur not christian who are you then?

Me: I am a 30yo mother of two in ohio. I assure you I am not Christian. Or Perry. Or a platypus.

Her: I never thought you were a platapus thank you very much!!!

At this point I was cracking up, and I was also driving home from work so I didn’t respond to the text, and I figured I had heard the last from my friend. But I was wrong.

Her: I know your Christian… how else would I have gotten this number?

Me: I promise you I am not Christian. But I am a blogger, and this exchange is going to make a seriously funny post.

Her: I am really sorry, this number works from my friends phone. It wont happen again.

That’s right! Mess with me, and I will blog about you!

So anyway, Jordyn, I have a couple pieces of advice for you. A) Get some manners. If someone tells you you have the wrong number, believe her. Apologize and don’t call/text/picture message that number again. B) Let me introduce you to my friend, the apostrophe. It’s “it’s,” not “its,” and “you’re,” not “your.” And especially not “ur.” The apostrophe is also helpful in showing possession, as in “my friend’s phone.” Make sense? Finally, C) if this is what you do at 5:00 in the afternoon, make sure you never, ever drunk dial.

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Marbles and Rubber Cement

It’s been the whole of this year, 2009, that I’ve been battling anxiety and depression, a battle that truly took me by surprise and to me at least, seemed to come out of nowhere. I’ve written countless posts about feeling bad, getting meds, getting new meds, feeling better, all the ups and downs that go with that sort of thing.

And for awhile, I’ve been doing great. What struggles I had were barely worth mentioning, until a couple of weeks ago. Then, for some reason, the wicked afternoons started to return. They’re a different incarnation of themselves, characterized by restlessness and a dark mood rather than weepiness – but they’re unwelcome just the same.

I wake up fine, cheerful, albeit a bit groggy, every morning, ready to start my day. Sophie and I have fun together. And then after I put her down for her nap, and before Joshua gets home at 3:15, I can feel the heaviness start to settle over me. I don’t want to do ANYTHING, yet I am restless. I don’t want to sit still, I don’t want to read a book, I don’t want to do the dishes (shocker), I don’t want to play with the kids. It’s very unsettling and generally by the time Bobby gets home from work I am climbing the walls!

So. I have a doctor’s appointment next week. I can’t help but think something chemical is being kooky in my body.

In my mind, I have been referring to anytime before 2009 as “before I lost my marbles”. Before I lost my marbles, I used to pay our bills, for instance. Recently I’ve had to give that back over to my husband. It used to not bother me at all but now it causes me lots of anxiety. That is one marble I haven’t minded letting go of.

But most of the rest of my marbles, I’ve gathered back together and glued comprehensively with rubber cement. I want to keep them, at least the ones that make me who I am. Maybe at times I’ll have to stretch the rubber cement, free a marble, and re-cement it somewhere that it fits a little more comfortably. I, like the rubber cement, am flexible, and I hope, I hope, I can be as strong.

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Disinfectant, Trash Cans, and the Mayor’s Ear

This past Friday, I was already in a bad mood when I got this email from the person who has the unfortunate task of doing PR for Clorox.

jenny clorox wipes
(Thanks to MattressPolice for the enhanced Clorox picture!)

Hello,

I wanted to privately respond to your Nov. 9 “The Great Donut Debacle” post where you mentioned using Clorox wipes on your toddler’s hands and face.

Clorox® Disinfecting Wipes should only be used on hard, nonporous surfaces, as directed on the label. They should be kept out of the reach of children. For more information, please visit www.Clorox.com.

Thank you,
____________, on behalf of The Clorox Company

Needless to say, I was grossly offended. I am not an idiot and I think I made it pretty clear in my post that using Clorox wipes on Sophie’s face was an act of desperation and not something I would normally do.

(Because normally, I would use LYSOL wipes, because that’s all I ever buy because THEY actually put out coupons for their products, have good sales, and incidentally, have never sent me an email asserting that I am STUPID. BOO-YAH.)

No one send me an email about using Lysol wipes, either, please, I swear I only wipe Sophie’s face with baby wipes or good old PAPER TOWELS.

*Anyway* thank you Clorox for reading this here blog.

After that comment on Friday, I was super-excited to get THIS comment on Saturday:

Gary Leitzell says:
November 21, 2009 at 2:23 am

I read your comment. Call 333-TRSH and report the damage to your tote. Let me know if it is not replaced. You can contact me through my blog http://www.daytonmayor.blogspot.com

That’s right, y’all, the newly-elected mayor of Dayton read this blog!!! And commented! I’m guessing he saw his name pop up on a Google Alert which lead him to my rambling, insomniac post about how my trash can was broken and since I voted for him and all, could he please see about getting it replaced? Now, I gotta say, if this is a sign of his concern for the citizens of Dayton in general, I am impressed! But I do have a couple of things to say to him.

jenny and gary copy

*Ahem*
Dear Mayor-Elect Gary Leitzell,
Thank you for reading my blog. I was super-excited to see your comment. Sorry you had to read the part about how I only voted for you because you were the only alternative to the incumbent. But hey, I figure you were happy to take any votes you could get! And normally, you know, I research all candidates more thoroughly, but you NOT being *her* was plenty enough for me on this one.

Now, if I had known before what I know now, that you are a BLOGGER!?! I might’ve campaigned for you even. How cool is that?

Also, sorry that you had to read THAT post. I was having an insomniac moment. I really am a better writer than that. And so is Emily. You MIGHT wanna check out our “Greatest Hits” page next time you stop by. I mean, there are some good posts on there about poop, snakes, coupons, pregnancy, and inbreeding. MUST-READS!

Oh, and, the trash dudes came and looked at our trash can on Wednesday, and they couldn’t fix it. So, we are on a waiting list for a new one. I know you’re not in office yet officially, but if you could somehow shoot us to the top of that waiting list anyhoo, you’d have my undying affection. I might even borderline-stalk you like I used to do to Mike Turner when he was mayor.

Cheers,
Jenny

_____________________

So, moral of the story: sending me an email about how to use your product? BAD! Elected officials responded to citizen’s needs via blog comment? REALLY GOOD!

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