TOOLBAG TUESDAY: Invoking the Holy Spirit

When breaking up with someone, there are very few people who are acceptable to list as “not approving” as the reason for said breakup.

A twin sister, for example. (Don’t EVER piss off a twin sister.)

Parents. (Because…are you really worth getting their inheritance cut off??)

And uhhhh….God?


Ok. Sure, those three people would be acceptable.

Everyone else who “doesn’t approve” can go to hell.

(I hate you. –God)

On the other hand, if we were to list the people who are completely UNACCEPTABLE to list as “not approving” of a relationship, certainly that would include an ex-girlfriend.

I mean, can you imagine?

“Yea, I really like you and all, but I was talking to my ex Hillary and she doesn’t like the idea of us dating, so…”


So, not only are you still talking to your ex, but you’re getting dating advice from her.


My friend Gwen had an even worse breakup due to a “disapproval.”

Gwen and this guy Blair had been dating for SIX MONTHS, when he broke the news that he couldn’t DATE HER ANYMORE. Because someone didn’t approve.

It was one of those breakups where you get a whole bunch of horrifying information.

“Well,” Blair said, OVER THE PHONE. “I’ve been hanging out after class with this girl Jessica and she doesn’t like that you and I spend the night together, so…”







(I mean, it’s obvious.)

It was a complete relationship violation.

Ugh. Why didn’t he just say, “I met someone else?”

Why did he have to say there was a “disapproval?”

How is this tactic better?????

Oh, hey babe. So, I’ve been hanging out with a girl without you knowing. And she doesn’t want me and you to date anymore. And…I’m going to listen to her because I’m already whipped by a girl who isn’t you.


Even God would disapprove.



It’s nice to know that even if you don’t personally get a sketchy vibe from your date, there are always eyes and ears watching.

(This is why it’s a good idea to go somewhere in public.)

My friend Giselle explains: “I met this guy online, and on our third date we were at a bar for a drink and a random guy came up and said, ‘Hi, are you Charles?’ To which Charles responded, ‘Yeah! You must be Rachel’s brother.’”


Giselle raised her eyebrows but no one clued her in.

The guy says, “Can I talk to you for a second over here?”


Giselle said that Charles left her at the bar while he had a three-minute conversation with the guy.

Was this a drug deal???

They had already finished their drinks and were getting ready to go, so when Charles got back from his conversation, they grabbed their coats and headed out the door.

“That was weird… What did he want to talk to you about?” Giselle asked. 

“He wanted to know if we were on a date or something,” Charles said.


“Oh, his sister Rachel, she must have a crush on me or something.” 

Or something. LOL

Obviously this was a red flag. 

“So, he just pulled you over and asked you if you were on a date because his sister has a crush on you?” Giselle asked.

Charles responded: “Yeah, well Rachel is a weird girl, and he’s her twin brother, so I guess that’s just how they are.” 


(Ed note: TWINS AREN’T WEIRD!!!!) 

Giselle, who isn’t an idiot (or weird), clearly knew something was off. 

“None of my questions were being answered in any plausible manner, and so I just straight out said, ‘Hey, we’re not exclusive, so you can tell me if you’re seeing Rachel. I’d like to know.” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend. There is no Rachel,” Charles said. 


How dramatic.

Giselle said she was still “skeeved,” but since they had only been on three dates and had only slept together once, she didn’t feel like she needed to get super upset. 


But then, shortly after that night, Charles got distant. 

He’d respond to her texts with one-word answers and stopped asking when she was free to hang out. 

So Giselle did what any normal 30-something female would do: She looked him up on Facebook. 

A photo. Of Charles and a girl. 

Caption: “Me and Charles.” 
Posted by: Rachel
Comments: “Oh my gosh! You two are so cute!” “Great seeing you guys the other day!” etc.



It was clear from the likes and comments that Charles wasn’t just a guy friend or a crush (LOL); they were definitely together.

…Unless that was Rachel’s twin brother in drag. 





I used to write a lot about how odd and hilarious (well, hilarious in retrospect) things regularly happen to me and my twin sister, Joy.

How we sometimes think we’re on The Truman Show and situations have been specifically planted in our lives for audiences’ viewing pleasure.

Like when Joy had to return an air mattress to Wal Mart because it was too short in length.

It was bought specifically for our visiting guy friend (who wasn’t THAT tall) to sleep on for a few days, but his calves hung over the edge of the mattress nightly.

But when Joy brought the mattress back to Wal Mart, a dwarf person was working the customer service counter and Joy struggled to explain that the problem was that the mattress was too short.

She ended up with a very eloquent, “It…er…well, it doesn’t fit a normal-sized person” and then she left red-faced, much more embarrassed than the dwarf person, who didn’t even really need a reason for returning.


I took one for The Truman Show team last week when I was at a work thing with a photographer taking photos of a large group of men for a newspaper spread, and my shoe broke.


Broke badly. Not just a heel…but the single strap that kept the shoe on my foot broke.


I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended nothing happened at all and raised one foot up like a flamingo (only  less gracefully) and stood one-legged as the photographer kept snapping pictures, my lone abandoned shoe on the ground.

And no one said anything!!

Not one person said anything!!!

Not when I stood one-footed in the hot concrete parking lot, not when I scooped up my shoe from the ground after the shoot was over, not after I had to transfer my shoe to the other hand in order to shake the hand of the president of the company.


Nice to meet you sir!!!

Not when I hobbled one-footed back to my car on tiptoe, the hot concrete scorching the delicate pad of my foot.

“No one helpedyou??” my aunt asked when I recapped my day to her on the phone.

“No,” I said. “No one even mentioned it!”

“There were 20 guys there and not ONE of them helped you when your shoe broke???” she said. “Well, that’s ridiculous!”

“What were they supposed to do? Give me a piggyback ride?” I asked. “It was pretty much the most unprofessional thing that could have happened. Maybe they were just being nice to ignore it.”

“You know, men don’t even notice women’s shoes,” my mom pointed out. “I bet they didn’t even notice that you weren’t wearing one.”

Maybe she was right. It was strange that no one said anything. 

No one even laughed!



But I guess that’s just the title of this episode of The Truman Show: How I burned the bottom of my foot in a parking lot with nearly two dozen men as witnesses.

Also, when in doubt…offer a girl a piggyback ride.



JNEWSFLASH: Not everyone is interested in you.

I know, I know! Shocking. 

Shocking to ego-inflated guys who can’t understand why a single girl wouldn’t want to date them. 

(But my mom says I’m cool!)

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with confidence. 

Confidence is a key trait to get a girl interested in you. 

But it’s important to carry that confidence over even if you get rejected. 

Such as: Oh, well, there are lots of other fish in the sea versus, uhhhhASKING THE GIRL WHO’S NOT INTERESTED IN YOU IF SHE’S A LESBIAN.




Because her being a lesbian is the ONLY possible explanation for why she wouldn’t be interested in you.


This LOL situation happened to ME (of course) when Peter, this guy I worked with years ago, asked me if I was a lesbian.

…in the workplace.


Peter, a mildy attractive guy a few years older than me, was pissed because he left his cell phone number on a torn piece of paper on my desk asking if I wanted to go fishing with him. 

I didn’t. 

(In fact, I don’t know how he got the idea that I would want to do anything with him.)

Now, in general, having a romantic relationship with a co-worker is pretty dumb. There’s even a thoughtful “don’t shit where you eat” expression for this. (Someone make me a needlepoint!!!)

But, if you just NEED to ask out someone you work with, the same rules apply as if you were to hit on someone at a bar: if they don’t show interest, leave them alone.

I, for one, left Peter’s note well enough alone. In fact, I didn’t touch the piece of paper at all. 

For two weeks, it sat untouched at the end of my desk. 

When Peter would walk by my office, I would be polite, but neither one of us mentioned the note. 

This was supposed to be his clue.

Weeks passed, and Peter got increasingly irritable.

But rather than bring it up directly, or wrap his head around the lots of other fish in the sea” concept, one day Peter walked into my office and spoke.

“OK, I just have to ask,” he said. “Are you gay?”




(FYI: I’m sure being asked your sexual orientation at work is illegal.)

“No, I’m straight,” I said, barely looking up from my computer screen, feeling ambushed.

Peter then abruptly walked out of my office, just to make a 360 degree turn and walk back in two seconds later.

“But…you don’t have a BOYFRIEND,” he said, argumentatively.


I blinked at him, unsure of how to respond.

He stood there, waiting.

“Umm,” I started. “Just because I don’t have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I don’t…want a boyfriend,” I said. 


That’s when it hit Peter that I was a single, straight female who wasn’t interested in him

And he couldn’t handle it.

“YOU KNOW WHAT??? FINE!!!” he screamed. (Seriously. Screamed.)

And then he stormed out of my office.


I sat there in shock, wide-eyed. 


Was I on hidden camera? 

I actually scanned the ceiling.

Before I could even text my twin sister, Joy, “Well I’m on the Truman Show again,” Peter barreled back into my office.

“YOU KNOW WHAT?” he repeated angrily, grabbing his handwritten note off my desk. 

“I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D CALL ME ANYWAY!” he said (hahahahahahahaha), and then dramatically crumbled up the note and threw it in the trash can by the door.



Thirty-four years old, shredding his own note!

He was mad, ya’ll.


I stared in silence the whole time. 

Then Peter stormed out again, left the building completely, and never spoke to me again the remaining four months I worked there.



Sorry, Peter. 

It’s not me. It’s you.



It’s just an unfortunate fact of life: Not everyone has an identical twin sister to bring as their date to work-related, couple-y events.

…Which is where a boyfriend really comes in handy.

I know, I know, who goes to a work-related couple-y event in THIS economy???

Who’s throwing a gala??

My twin sister, Joy, has been my date to work-related couple-y events for ten years.

(Christmas parties, retirement parties…uh…Harry Potter opening night at the movies.)  

This isn’t so much because I’m perpetually single (uh…), it’s because I’ve made the BONEHEAD decision to have long-distance relationships for most of my life.

And no one is flying 1,000 miles to go to a stranger’s retirement party, no matter how many crab cakes they promise.

Not that I mind having Joy there.

She’s the perfect work-related, couple-y date: She talks excitedly to everyone, is genuinely interested in who they are/what they do, and when co-workers and I get into deep conversations about the state of print journalism, she brings over the remaining bottle of wine.

(It also helps that people fuss over how alike we look. Instant conversation starter!!!)

Call me crazy yuppie, but it’s really important to have a date with you to a work-related, couple-y event.

(Weddings are different. At a wedding you’re with friends, you’re drinking, you’re dancing and you’re probably checking out a groomsman. Ha.)

For a work-related, couple-y event, however, you need to have someone to talk to (so you don’t end up standing in the corner alone by the cheese), someone to SHOW OFF, someone who supports you and your career.

And, let’s not forget, someone who you’ve been telling your co-workers about.

You can imagine my excitement when I found myself in a proper relationship with a guy when I lived in New York.

I had just started a new job at a book publishing company, Joy and I had just moved to the city…THE CITY HE LIVED IN…and I was invited to several work-related, couple-y events within the first week of getting there.



Riiiiiight, that was the year I realized the difference between a good boyfriend and a bad boyfriend.

(And not knowing the difference until you live in the same city.)

Forehead slap!

His name was Edward and he was a financial adviser, which translates to super big hotshot in New York.

He was from New Orleans, my hometown, and I was excited to be in the same city as him after almost a year of dating long-distance.

I told him after my second day of work that there was a company birthday party at a bar on Friday night and asked if he could he please come with me.

I made it obvious that it was important, and how I wanted him to meet everyone.

He said yes.


When everyone at work started buzzing about the party, I told them that we would both be there.

I actually beamedsaying it. (Awwww 25-year-old Jenny.)

Edward didn’t have to work Friday night and had nothing going on. It was a perfect gathering for everyone to meet—a reserved outside patio at a bar.

I went straight after work. Edward said he’d meet me there.

I waited. And waited.

After a HALF-HOUR, people were asking where he was. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe he got stuck on the subway,” I said.


“Hey…do you mind if I don’tgo?” Edward spoke the horrifying words into my cell phone 45 MINUTES after the party started.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“I just…don’t want to be on a smoky patio. You know how much I hate smoke.”


I looked around, and ducked out of earshot.

“No one is smoking…” I said. “What are you doing?”

“Just watching TV on the couch.”

I could have killed him, seriously.

“Well, I really wantyou to be here,” I said. “I’ve only been working here for five days, I don’t know anyone, I’d like a friend with me.”

Edward wasn’t moved.

“Yea, well, if it was ANYWHERE else…” he said. “Anywhere with no smoking…”




You can’t SUCK IT UP for two hours?

What about,“I really want you to be here” DIDN’T he understand??

I almost cried, I remember. I felt like such an idiot.

And what a dorkyexcuse, too.

Oh, he doesn’t want the POTENTIALto have to smell cigarette smoke the required 20 feet away from the entrance??


(SPOILER ALERT: It was a B.S. excuse. He was just selfish and unsupportive.)

But because I was 25 years old and really wanted it to work out between us, I forgave him and downplayed my hurt.

Until the next WORK-RELATED, COUPLE-Y THING, of course.

The second gathering, THE NEXT WEEKEND, was a “field day” picnic at Central Park (Central Park!) where everyone played Trivial Pursuit and volleyball.

“Free food!” I said to Edward.

I mean, why the Fdid I have to twist him arm about it?

It was a great Saturday date anyway. A stroll and picnic in the damn park.

“Yea, well, I’m planning on going to the gym until 2 o’clock…” Edward said.

My teeth clenched.

“Could you…maybe skipthe gym this Saturday?” I said.

“Ohhh….I don’t really want to,” he said.


That’s when I lost it.

Here I was a new resident to HIS city and he couldn’t even carve out time to be my date to an effing Saturday picnic.

I tried to be more clear.



“Ok, I’ll come,” he finally said.

“Thank you.”

Edward arrived at the park at 3 p.m.

“SORRY I’M LATE, I WENT TO THE GYM,” he announced.



This guy.

And that’s when I realized that Edward wasn’t just clueless, he really didn’t care about making me happy.

He didn’t care about anything but himself.

And no amount of explaining my feelings would make him be a supportive person, or make him stop doing whatever the Fhe wanted to do.

On the bright side, Joy won second place in Trivial Pursuit that day. 




I’ve never seen Mad Men, but I’m pretty sure this dickhead who interviewed my twin sister for a job would fit right in.

…but just to be sure…that’s the TV show where men don’t respect women or view them as equal in the workplace, right?


My twin sister, Joy, went on a job interview a few years ago for a graphic designer position, thinking that the company was looking to hire a graphic designer.

The job posting saidgraphic designer. Joy submitted all of her materials, resume, etc. that said “GRAPHIC DESIGNER” all over it.

But the man behind the desk didn’t read that part.

He somehow re-arranged the words “graphic designer” to say “verbal punching bag.” (I know, that’s too many letters. But, he’s an idiot).

…And then he tried out his new punching bag.

Because he was never actually considering her for the job, he really just wanted to yell at her.

At someone.

I think he was literally trying to extinguish joy.

His opening line was pretty killer, too, and a thoughtful reminder to everyone in the post-1960s 1970s 1980s 1990s 2000s2010- world that sexism is still alive and well.

“Do you CRY when you get yelled at?” he asked immediately, and angrily.




His opening line.


(Ed note: Ten bucks says the male candidates were NOT asked that question.)

“Do…you…yell at your employees at lot?” Joy responded, snarkily.

Of course he ignored her.

“You know, EVERYONE WANTS THIS JOB,” he said. It was a little surprising because Joy had never heard of the company before applying.

Then, completely out of left field, he continued, “…and I don’t want to hire you just so you can leave after six months to be a nanny in Italy!”





(Ed note: Ten bucks says that the male candidates were not given the Italian nanny scenario.)

Joy looked around the room for hidden TV cameras.

The man then explained how the job posting was NOT for a graphic designer, but for a manufacturing person who knows specs about printing and affixing labels on makeup bottles per government regulations.

(The job description never mentioned any of this.)

“So…you don’t need someone to actually design the labels…” Joy clarified.




You don’t know how to do anything.

(jab-jab-jab-punch -uppercut)

This man just met her. He had no idea what she was capable of doing.

“I mean, I don’t have TIME to train you, anyway,” he said, as Joy sat there wide-eyed.

(Joy later looked back at the job description which said, “industry experience preferred.”)

Without being asked, the man then explained to Joy why she wasted HIS time showing up at his office.

“We already have the PERFECT candidate,” he said. “And we’re going to hire him.”



Of course it’s totally appropriate to tell someone who took time out of their day to go to your job interview that you already hired someone else.

And of course it’s a “him.”

A him who won’t flee to Italy to become a nanny.

(seriously WTF??)

“Well, it looks like you found the right candidate then,” Joy said and snatched back her portfolio.

“A WORD OF ADVICE?” he said to her on the way out. “YOU REALLY NEED TO INCREASE YOUR SKILLS!”


Joy didn’t mention that HE needed to increase his job description skills.

My God.

Is Mad Men hiring???

Because Joy is looking.

Skills: doesn’t cry when getting yelled at.



You know the people who hate going-away parties the most??
The people who are in love with the person who’s leaving.
(Please exclude military deployments or, uh, prison.)  
I’m talking about studying abroad, getting a master’s degree in “Anaconda studies” in the Amazon, backpacking through Europe for however long it takes to run out of money, moving to New York City to be a STAR, etc.
This is a move that generally people in their 20s and 30s do, and yes, it leaves the person they’re dating shit outta luck.
But if someone is supportive of the person they love’s new life goals, or trusts that it’s the right thing for them to move, they’ll let them go like a bird and hope they fly back, or whatever.
True story: The guy who was dating my twin sister Joy in college, sent her off halfway across the country with a stack of self-addressed stamped envelopes and notebook paper and told her to write. Aw.
Angelo, this guy my friend Jessica dated, did not have that sweet side.
In fact, Angelo turned into a complete asshole upon hearing the news of Jessica’s departure and completely ruined her going-away party.
Jessica is an artist with an art degree, which is one of the hardest professions to find a good-paying, steady job. 

She had been living in South Carolina trying to find work, when she found an opportunity several states away. 

Angelo and Jessica dated for six months . He had everything lined up for him in South Carolina, and was unable move with her.
It’s wasn’t a SURPRISE that she was moving (she couldn’t find a job), and they agreed to be off-and-on, but Angelo chose to act out at her party in front of everyone.
The going-away party was at a dive bar that Jessica loved, and everyone saw when Angelo was clearly hitting on an unkown woman at the bar who was a bit older and, um, rougher around the edges.
Um, was Jessica supposed to be jealous?
Everyone tried to ignore Angelo, but as they were telling Jessica goodbye and sharing memories, he announced…TO THE ENTIRE TABLE…that he was leaving with the woman.

Ugh, how embarassing.
Jessica pulled him aside and snapped at him.
“You’re leaving my going-away party?? What’s the matter with you?” she asked.
Angelo then accessed the dumbass  portion of his brain. 

No. Beyond dumbass. 
“Yea,” Angelo said. “She told me she’d give me a blow job for $5…and I want to see if she is for real.”
“WHAT?!?” Jessica screamed.
“You’re leaving to do WHAT?” she asked.
“Yea well what do YOU care, you’re moving away,” he said nonchalantly.
Oh, that’s rich.
Angelo then ACTUALLY LEFT with this woman, as everyone’s jaw dropped.
We don’t think he went through with the proposition, or if there was even a proposition at all, but you really have to be off your rocker to think that saying you’ve been offered a $5 blow job by some crackhead at a bar will make your ex jealous and come running after you.
Thanks, Angelo, for making it NOT so hard to say goodbye.



I forget a lot of things. 

Where I put my glasses, for example. The name of that place I had a really good burger the other day. Uh…my dignity

But what I don’t forget is an invitation to a beach house with someone I’m interested in. 

That takes priority number one and I will rifle through my twin sister’s closet to find her most flattering bikini. 

Tyler, this guy I dated years ago, invited me to a beach house with him and some friends who I also knew. It was about two hours away from where I lived.

He and I were in a months-long, long-distance flirtation and he not only asked me to go but repeatedly asked me to go. 

Come up Friday for the weekend!” he told me on Monday. “It’s going to be so much fun!”

I was excited. I “borrowed” my twin sister’s bikini and everything. 

But then my super cute text message to him the next day went unanswered. 

Is he having too much fun at the beach house to check messages? I wondered. Did he forget his phone charger? 
It wasn’t like him to not respond. 

But I waited. Nothing.

Wednesday, nothing.

THURSDAY, nothing.

I then began to panic, confused about why he wasn’t following up with his invitation or you know, SENDING ME THE ADDRESS. 

Did he forget that he invited me???
I didn’t know what to do. 

Then Friday….nothing. 


“F THAT GUY!” my roommates exclaimed and we all went out drinking. 

Maybe I should call him, I suggested, but even I knew that was too mortifying a conversation, asking why durrrrrrr I was no longer invited to the super fun party.  
“Don’t text him!” my rooommates instructed. 

I remember I kept looking at my phone, staring at my last text to him, five days earlier. Did it not go through??? (Of course it did.)

I took their advice until beer took over, and then I texted Tyler a very simple and poignant message late Friday night: 


(I used the hyphens and everything, for emphasis. Slow spelling. To let it really sink in.) 

I woke up the next day and saw I had a text from him. 

So he DOES get service!!

I opened it.

“What’s lame?” he wrote. 

That was it.




It was the most infuriating response to getting dicked over, ever. 

I should have added a pronoun. “WHO’S L-A-M-E?” Answer: Tyler. 

I wanted to scream, “YOU’RE LAME! YOU!!! LOOK IN A GOD DAMN MIRROR!!!!”

But I didn’t respond.

Was he serious? Did he think I forgot that he had repeatedly invited me to the beach house? 

(Newsflash: No one forgets an invitation to a beach house.)

A week later, I got answers when I ran into one of our mutual friends.

“You look tan,” I said. 

“Yea, I was at the beach house with everyone,” he said. (I knew that)

“Oh, yea? I was supposed to go. Tyler invited me, but then I never heard from him.”

My friend looked at me like I was crazy. 

Tyler invited you?”


“Well, I don’t know why he did that. His…ex-girlfriend was there and they were pretty cozy.”






I confronted Tyler about it shortly after, who said that he didn’t know his ex-girlfriend was going to be there, and admitted he didn’t know how to tell me about it. 

So he just thought that not following up would just…you know, solve the problem. 

Yea, solve HIS problem. 

Meanwhile, I’m getting sad-drunk checking my phone every five minutes for a Google map.


Lame AND selfish!

So I forgot his phone number.


I’ve been watching you people (2011 edition)

Does anyone remember last year when I wrote about how I got a tracker on my blog without telling anybody?
And I got to see where you people are from?
And I got to see how long you spend reading this blog?? AND ALL YOUR IP ADDRESSES??
Yea, I still have it.
Hello loyal readers from Canada!! And hello new reader from Australia!!
Are you by chance good-looking??
You people’s locations are hardly the most fun part of this site tracker, except when little icons of your foreign flags pop up. They’re so cute. (P.S. How would you say “Toolbag” in Burmese?)
No…the best thing about this tracker is seeing the the referring page for this blog.
It’s mostly through Facebook (THANKS FRIENDS!!!) but almost daily, people are referred to my blog from a dumb Google search.
Yes, I get to read people’s dumb Google searches!!
And I can say with confidence that 90 percent of the people who clicked on my blog from a Google search did NOT get the answer they were looking for.
…unless they Google searched “Toolbag Tuesday”…BECAUSE PEOPLE TOTALLY GOOGLE SEARCH TOOLBAG TUESDAY!!!
Maybe I’ll make some T-shirts.
So, what did I do with these Google searches? I did the same thing I did last year. I put them all into a Word document…while laughing.
Yet, tragedy struck when I got laid off from my job and the four-page Word document with ALL the searches I had collected was deleted when I wiped out my entire existence from the work computer.
But there’s never a shortage of material when it comes to Google searches!!! In between screaming at the Louisiana Unemployment Commission, I’ve been collecting you people’s Google searches since July.
And, I’ve solved a Google search mystery!
A lot of people were getting to my blog by searching for PORN with the names “Jenny and Joy” (which happens to be me and my twin sister’s names)…and that made me suspicious.
But then I found out that there is Japanese CARTOON PORN (um…what) involving a “nurse Jenny” and “officer Joy” and that’s really what people wanted to see, not hear about the adventures of me and my non-Asian twin…
Shouldn’t the nurse wear the gloves??

It didn’t help that I wrote a delightful blog about having strep throat this year and used the words “nurse,” “Jenny,” and “shot in the butt” (purely medical terms people!!!) because now I get a ton of internet traffic from people searching for “butt shot of nurse Jenny.”
So, in addition to disappointing Japanese porn-lovers, here’s what people Google-searched for hoping to learn by clicking on my blog:
Is it a good idea to use two running backs from the same team

robin quivers see through shirt

funny made up country names for beer Olympics

Toolbag Tuesday (yaaaay!!!)


thriller dance arms

boyfriend goes zydeco dancing without me

twin tattoos

nurse ass shot

nurse patient butt shot

nurse put shot in my ass

gymnastics crab

the strep shot

nurse Jenny butt shot

mom biceps

salon permed hair

twin tattos

body wave perm before and after

“Wayne Campbell” catholic priest

grapes fancy dress

robin quivers nude

emma watson lipstick on teeth

my identical twin sister and I when we were babies

modern toilet paper holder

What are some Greek letters

grapes costume

what is colonel angus

Haha. That last one was quite a funny blog…you can read it here.
But, in all seriousness, thank you thank you THANK YOU EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart for reading!!!
27,614 people have read this blog since I started it as my New Year’s resolution two years ago — now averaging 40 people a day!!!
That’s awesome!!!
Are you all bored at work too??
Thank you for letting me share my life and stories and I’m glad that at least some of you still want to be my friend in real life. Ha
I hope you have a great New Year and here’s to a super bright future for each and every one of you!!
New Toolbag Tuesday suggestions welcome.


Girls are good at using Facebook to make ex-boyfriends jealous.

(Everything I need to know I learned from my all-girls Catholic School!!)

Photoshopped zits!! A carefully placed good-looking stranger in the background!!

Tagging your friends at a bar with you to look popular even if your friends weren’t really there!!!

The best, though, is when GUYS use Facebook to make their exes jealous. It’s effing hilarious.

Because guys are so bad at it. And obvious.


Case in point: My twin sister Joy’s ex-boyfriend. He NEVER used Facebook EVER. It was almost as if he didn’t have one.

He didn’t update anything, he didn’t upload anything.

He had one picture that was his profile picture and the most recent comment on his wall was from six months earlier, when someone wished him a belated happy birthday.

Yet, when they broke up, his page started blowing up.

It was a miracle!

We all laughed our asses off when THE WEEK AFTER THEY BROKE UP he uploaded a picture from his phone (He knew how to do that??) to his Facebook wall.

It was of plops of cookie dough on a pan.

Caption: “Baking cookies with the cutest girl!!! Thanks Kayla!!!” he wrote.

Ahahahahaha loser, we all said.

Joy said she wanted to vomit.

Brian, this guy who dated my friend Jill, took it a step further with the toolbag Facebooking.

They dated for about five months, and after another big fight, they decided to take a “break.”

The “break” was good timing because Brian was about to fly home to see his family for Christmas.

They lived in the Mid-West and Brian bitched about how boring the place was and how he did nothing the whole time.

But, that’s not what his Facebook page said.

Jill looked in horror during his vacation home to see girl, after girl, AFTER GIRL writing suggestive things on his Facebook wall.

“Last night was soooo crazy!” one wrote. “You were hilarious!!!”

“OMG Can’t wait to see you tonight!” wrote another.

It was odd because Brian wasn’t exactly a ladies’ man. A quick search saw that the girls had gone to high school with Brian, but he never talked about them before.

Or hung out with them.

Now they were telling him how crazy and fun he was???

Jill was livid. Here she was alone and sad about their “break” and he was running around with his entire graduating class!!

Then Jill saw the worst one:

“I have your clothes!!!” one girl wrote.


She called up Brian immediately.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked.

“What?” he asked casually. “A bunch of us all went camping together.”

“You went CAMPING with five girls? WITH NO CLOTHES?” she asked. “In the middle of winter?”

She screamed at him and told him it was definitely over now between the two of them, and that’s when Brian broke down and said it was all a lie.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you jealous,” Brian cried. “I never saw any of them. I just messaged a bunch of girls from my high school asking them to write something flirty on my wall.”

“OMG YOU ARE SUCH A DORK!” Jill screamed. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!”

Jillian hung up and fumed.

A few hours later she checked his page and saw that he had deleted each of the girls’ comments.

He tried to win her back when he came back to town after the holidays but Jill was over it.

She was clearly dating a 12-year-old girl.

Who ASKS people to do that???

She decided to play his game.

She immediately took her page and publicly made her relationship status “single.”

And then liked it.

And waited for all the boys to comment.