Jaclynnkay's Journal

5:02pm: Just making a note for the future

11:13am: Featured in an Online Magazine
ME!  Featured in an online magazine produced by a Concorida friend, Erin Rodino.

Check "Doloris" out (but pardon some of my grammatical errors.  I don't think the correct file was uploaded):

Scalped Magazine

9:05am: Happy Birthday, William

In honor of Shakespeare's "birthday." I'd like to quote one of my favorites.  I'll be posting a different favorite quote on Tumblr, Facebook, and maybe even Myspace if I'm feeling frisky.  
Enjoy:

Set your heart at rest:
The fairy land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a votaress of my order:
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
Full often hath she gossip'd by my side,
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood,
When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
Following,--her womb then rich with my young squire,--
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
And for her sake do I rear up her boy,
And for her sake I will not part with him.
 

10:11am: Cinnabon
It's bad enough that I woke up in the middle of R.E.M, again. What's worse is the lack of awareness.  My brain still thinks it's sleeping.  My arms are moving, my fingers are typing, but my processing capabilities seem to be snoozing. 

I don't know how I got ready this morning.  What happened in between apartment doorstep and corporate rotating door? Where did the time go between now and three hours ago? Why is my coffee gone and my brain still floating 'round the lazy river of sleep and dreams and thoughts of Cinnabon.  Where did these thoughts of Cinnabon even come from!? 

All I know is that I'm moving but my brain is locked in the world of subconscious-Cinnabon-Obsession. 


UPDATE 11:39 am:  I have awakened.   And, now I want some Cream of Broccoli soup. It's all thanks to this Wegman's site that Raina sent us.  She was showing the various flavors of WPop...but there was another link that caught my eye called, "Cooking."  I clicked it and this is where I found the very delicious recipe for this soup which I now desire.

11:33am: Gardenia-Neem Oil
Unrelated to my previous entry, but I came back from the three day weekend to discover that the Gardenia Rob got me for my birthday was sick! The once beautiful, white blossoms had turned  yellow and there were little black aphids (bugs) eating the leaves! I freaked out. 

I spent most of my morning reading up on pests that attack Gardenias.  Then, I researched the most effective and safe way to kill the bastards.  

Trick of the trade? Neem Oil.  Neem Oil is only imported from India and hard to come by in it's pure state (especially since it's not legal in the US).  I called a bunch of nurseries and flower shops in the city until I found the closest thing to it.  One store had a ready made spray which contained neem oil.  I really wanted Neem Oil in its pure state, but I had to settle.  I just couldn't allow my Gardenia to be sick any longer!

I used my lunch break to go to the Flower District.  The shop, Jamali Garden Supplies, is located on 28th between 7th and 6th Ave.  The shop was pretty cool.  It had tons of stuff for flower arranging and a section for gardening supplies.  The price was reasonable and I didn't have trouble finding anything.  They also had really cute copper watering cans! I'll have to go back and get one someday. 

I got back to work and waited a few hours.  Niamh (my co-worker) is pregnant and while the spray isn't toxic, I couldn't risk hurting the baby in anyway. 

I put the gardenia in a large box and sprayed it with water.  This is important for any budding blossoms (which there are three).  I then used the Neem Oil spray and let it dry before setting it on the ledge near the window. 

This morning, when I came into work, the Gardenia looked like it had almost completely recovered.  The blossoms that had turned yellow will stay that way until they drop, but one of the three buds opened up! I have another beautiful white blossom.  Did I mention it smells amazing?

Yay for Neem Oil!

11:57am: Inaguration Day
The office is filled with echos of news channels and frequent "buffering" pauses.  I wasn't going to indulge in the day, but everyone else is.  I'm sure after Obama is sworn in and gives his speech then we will all go back to work.  But for now, it's nice to stop and watch history....no it's not nice, it's fucking exciting.  I'm more proud to be an American than I've ever been. 

1:12pm: Pilates
Kicked my ass.

10:34pm: Story Time: Brown Bear the the Revolver, Chapter 10
"YES! He is the one who did it all.  I'm telling you.  You have to let me in to see the governor!"
"Mary, are you sure?  I haven't seen any bears in this city since I was a boy," replied the butler.
"Charles, you hear me, and you hear me good, this bear is a real criminal! And if I don't stop him, he's gonna do somethin' horrible bad to this town.  I'll break your bones if you don't let me through," shouted Mary as she pushed her way into the house.  She ran wildly up the stairs and through the long corridors of the Governor's mansion. 
"Governor!? Governor!? You here?!" she shouted.  She hurried towards the left wing and went through double doors.  The governor was sitting at his desk waiting for her.
"Mary," he cried out, "what brings you here, yelling in my halls?  Didn't I tell you not to come back?"
"Yes, yes! You did," exclaimed Mary, "but there's a brown bear on the loose.  He shot me today in the park and I saw him try to rob a little girl one day in the town.  And his vest! It's made from a clown.  He killed one of those clowns that was creating a ruckus in the town! He's bad news governor and we needs to catch him!"
"Oh, thank you for reminding me.  I'll need your bullet proof vest back along with the keys.  You may keep the flashlight," replied the governor, "As for this brown bear, I'm not sure what to think.  The last time I saw you, you thought that plants could speak and proceeded to whip one for being 'uppidy' as Melinda relayed to me.  I have heard nothing of a brown bear, robbery, or clowns.  It sounds like a circus in your head, Mary."
"Well, that's cause you sit in this fancy house on top of the hill! When was the last time you was in town?! Huh?! I ain't seen your shiny car in a long time," Mary screamed at him.
"Calm down, now. Calm down.  No need to yell.  It is true I have not been into town in quite sometime.  I have everything I need up here and I have people who watch the town for me.  There is no need for me to interfere with the town folk.  My job is to stay here and make the rules, not to watch over the town.  What do you think the police are for?" The governor said.
"You are a horrible, lazy man," said Mary.  She spit on his desk and ran off down the hall.
"STOP! STOP HER!" yelled the governor.

Charles had been waiting at the door for Mary, but her sudden departure left him laying on the floor.  

9:05pm: Story Time: Brown Bear and the Revolver, Chapter 9
The old woman kept her eyes closed until the brown bear disappeared out of sight.  She stood up and looked around her.  No one was in sight. 

"God damn bears!" she yelled to the trees, "Always starting trouble when people jist walking around mindin' their own business.  What an ugly bear he was anyways," she continued shouting.

Mary, as most of the police officers called her, was a former nanny for the governor.  One day, as she was watering the plants, she heard a shout.  One of the plants was complaining that the temperature of the water was too hot.  Mary carried on a heated conversation with the plant.  As the defiant plant continued to be unsatisfied with her efforts, she became frustrated and began to whip the plant with the hose.  The governor's wife witnessed the event and told the governor.  Mary was told to pack her things and leave the house immediately.  As was tradition in the town, any person who resided in the mayor's or the governor's house was to be equipped with a bullet proof vest, a set of keys to the secret underground passage, and a flashlight.  Mary left the house with these belongings. 

"That bear thought he was so smart in shootin' an old, beggar woman like me.  Well we'll see about that.  I've seen that bear causing trouble all around here.  I'm going to the governor and tell him everything I saw. And then he'll give me my old job back.  I'll be back in the house again with all the children grown up."

"Whojse you tawlkin to Maarry?" Slurred a drunk bum.

"Not you! So shut your jaw and go back to drinkin'!" Mary Yelled. 

Mary began her journey to the governor's house.

Meanwhile, the bear strolled along the edge of the park.  He found a few bums who were passed out and took the opportunity to rob them.  By the time he reached the town square he had over thirty dollars in his pocket.  As he passed the fountain he heard a faint jingle.  He looked over and noticed a small creature who wore a similar hat as the clown.  The creature was pale and somber.  The bear approached the creature,
"Are you lost young fellow?"
The creature hissed at him.
"Quite the temper my boy.  You should be more careful," replied the bear calmly.
The creature scurried away and ran off into the distance.  It left behind something very familiar to the bear. 
"Well let me guess what this has to say," said the bear.  He picked up the card and turned it over.  It was the same card the clown had left before.

He walked over to the phone booth and placed a call.

"Hello there, Flavorful Flavors, how may I help you?!"
"Yes, perhaps you might remember me.  I called over a month ago about a clown.  Well, it seems another one of your creatures has escaped from your facility and it appears to be rabid."
There was a long pause on the line.
"Hello?" inquired the bear, "Hello?  Are you still there?"
"Mr. Brown Bear," said the voice, "we've had enough of your fancies.  Find your bride and come back to the ring or stay in that place you call civilization.  And, please stay away from the colonized clowns.  They are under Mr. Hukjim's care and he would be very upset if he saw your vest."
"I don't know what you're talking about!  I'm calling to report a rabid creature!" The bear roared.  He quickly composed himself and added,
"I'm sorry if I've troubled you but there are civilized people at risk out here!" .
"BROWN BEAR! I'm warning you," squealed the voice.

The brown bear hung up the phone.  He sauntered into town and found a little boy eating ice cream on the curb.  The boy's bike was sprawled across the sidewalk.

The bear picked up the bike and rode away.  The little boy was too busy watching an old, bent woman to notice a brown bear riding his bike down Main St.

9:24pm: Story Time: Brown Bear and the Revolver, Chapter 8
"We got it together didn't we
We've definitely got our thing together, don't we baby?
Isn't that nice?
I mean really when you really sit and think about it
isn't it really really nice?
I can easily feel myself slipping in more and more ways
in a simple world of my own
Nobody but you ... and me
We got it together babe."

The bear was admiring himself in the mirror.  Barry White was playing in the background as the brown bear groomed himself.  The clown vest fit him well.  There were four small buttons that appeared to be ivory.  There were two bands of hair that tied together in the back.  He slowly put his claws into the two pockets he had made.  He only needed one pocket for the revolver, but he felt that one pocket would make the vest asymmetrical.

He gave himself one last look before he walked out of his house.

He shut his door and headed towards the town square.  It was about a mile away from his home and there were a few bums he wanted to pick pocket on his way.  Bums always had the most accessible cash.

"Well my, my" said a high pitched voice, "If it ain't the most handsome brown bear I've ever seen."

The brown bear looked down and saw an old woman pushing a cart full of black, plastic bags.  She was dressed in rags and walked in a folded manner, with her torso parallel to the ground.  Her head steered the way.
"Thank you," said the bear.
"Can I have a dollar?" asked the woman.
"No, I'm sorry," the brown bear started.
"But I told you you was handsome!" exclaimed the old woman.
"And it was very kind of you. But, perhaps I can repay you with something that's worth more than a dollar," said the brown bear.  He pulled the revolver out of his pocket and shot the old woman.  She fell onto the sidewalk in the shape of an L.
"That bullet is worth one dollar and five cents, plus tax."

He searched the old woman and found eleven dollar bills crumpled in her pocket with some change.

11:35am: Story Time: Brown Bear and the revolver, Chapter 7
 The bear saw the bees before he saw the hole.  They had escaped from their prison and were slowly coming out in pairs, hovering an inch above the clown.
"Oooh now this is quite fascinating!" exclaimed the bear, "Your stomach is a beehive!" 

The clown's stomach was slightly swollen and rounded.  The bees were coming out of a hole where the clown's belly button should have been.  The brown bear grabbed his revolver and pointed it at the clown's head. 
"Goodbye clown," he said in a detached manner.  He pulled the trigger.  

The bear prepared the clown for flaying.  In order to preserve the honey and the skin, he pumped out the clown's blood.
"Mmm, mmmm, mmm," hummed the bear as he watched the blood pour into a pan, "This will make an excellent bisque."

The bear worked all night draining the blood, flaying the clown, and extracting the honey.  He felt satisfied and proud of the work he was accomplishing.  He knew it would be over a month before he would be out again. And when he did, people would marvel at his vest. 

1:16pm: Story Time: Brown Bear and the Revolver, Chapter 6
The clown waited for the brown bear to take the onion out of his mouth.  He could feel his stomach, full of acid and bile, hurling itself against gravity.  His throat burned as the warm mixture moved towards his tongue.  He swallowed hard a few times.  His eyes were full of water and with each blink tears poured down his face.  

The bear did not fulfill his promise.  He stood over the clown for a few moments.  The brown bear stared, thoughtfully, at the clown.  He put the revolver on a ledge and began to examine his face.  He pushed on his checks, inspected his eyes and hair line.  He backed away from the table.  He surveyed his prisoner from a distance and as slowly as the sun rises, he smiled.  

He dashed out of the room.  When he returned he was carrying a cookie tin.  He opened the tin and began pulling out knives of different sizes and edges.  He found the one he was looking for and went over to the clown.

"Well clown, it seems that I have changed my mind.  I've decided to make a vest...out of your skin.  You see, as I was getting ready to take the onion out of your mouth I noticed something.  You have no pimples or skin rashes.  Your flesh is thick.  It will be perfect.  I haven't had a fashionable vest in years!  You should consider yourself very lucky that I don't shoot you and leave you to the maggots.  They're a horrible species.  They're not nearly as civilized or intelligent as I."

As he removed the clown's garments, he continued,

"The most important thing about being civilized is deception.  If you appear to be a poor, dirty savage with nothing to offer anyone, you will be spit on, despised and hardly suitable to convince people of anything. But, if your appearance suggests that you have money, men will nod to you in the streets, women will smile at you, and it will be easy to get what you want.  If you throw in charm and intelligence, people will never question you."

The clown was now naked on the table.  The brown bear inspected the clown, head to toe.  He couldn't believe what he saw,
"Well, well, well.  What have we here?" crooned the brown bear.

6:17pm: Story Time: Brown Bear and the Revolver, Chapter 5
"Eeeehheeheeheeheee," the clown laughed hysterically.
"You are going to die," snorted the brown bear through clenched teeth. 
"Catch me first! Catch me first!" screamed the clown. He threw more smoke bombs onto the ground.

As he was lighting one, he tripped over a tree root.  The bear seized him by the ears on his hat and shook him.  The clown laughed until the bear clawed him in the face.  The clown lost consciousness.

When he awoke he was in a dimly lit room.  The walls were lined with newspaper articles in black frames.  There was a leather chair in the corner and a large stone table next to it.  His mouth had been stuffed with an onion and involuntary tears streamed down his face.  The bear was standing in front of a mirror, wearing a white apron and cleaning the small barrel of the revolver.  He saw the clown in the reflection.

"Good morning clown," said the brown bear. The clown tried to laugh but gagged on the onion. "Oh, yes, it's quite difficult to laugh when you're mouth is stuffed, isn't it? That's right.  It would be to your advantage if you nodded your head.  Otherwise, you might puke on that onion.  It has just begun to rot."

The bear left the room.  The clown tried to move his hands.  He couldn't feel them. 

When the bear came back he had a box of bullets.  He put the bullets into the gun.

"Now, clown, I'm going to take the onion out of your mouth and ask you a few questions.  If you spit in my face or laugh, I will shoot you in the knee caps.  For each succeeding laugh I will shoot you until you have no more joints. Nod your head if you comprehend." The clown nodded his head.



 

10:15pm: Story Time: Brown Bear and the Revolver, Chapter 4
"Damn clown," grumbled the bear as he walked towards the bakery.  He had his claws in his pockets and kept his eyes on the cobble stone road. 

"Brown Bear!" screamed a little voice, "You! You! Come here right now!"
The bear turned around.  The little girl with the side pony tail and blue rain boots was running towards him.  Her confused parents tried to follow, but the little girl had almost reached the bear.
"Why hello you little thief," said the bear, "how was your hour in jail?"
The little girl beat her fists into the bear's fur.  "You lied to the police! You're a criminal! I'm going to tell everyone that you tried to steal my money!! POLICE!" screamed the little girl, "this bear tried to steal my money! Police!"

The townspeople began to gather around.  The children were frightened by the little girl's screaming.  Mothers stared at her and glared disapprovingly.

"Detain your child,"shouted a man.

The parents could not move.  They were in shock and stared at the little girl.  She would not stop beating the bear.

The bear grabbed her by the arms and said if she laid another hand on him, he would maul her to death.  She spit on his snout and screamed like a mad woman. The bear let go of her and reached into his pocket.  A loud siren burst through the air.  The little girl stopped screaming.  Everyone looked in the direction of the piercing noise. 

The sound of a gun shot shot interrupted the sirens.  People began to scream and shout.  They ran in all directions. The little girl got lost in the stampede.  The bear stood and watched as the people ran like wild beats, circling and bumping into each other as if they were trapped in a room.

The police jumped out of their wagons and tried to control the crowd.

The bear sauntered down the street.  When he approached the bakery he pulled the door open.  A little bell chimed with his entrance.

"Sounds like there's quite a circus out there," said the baker.
"Have you seen a clown?" asked the bear.
"Well, I don't mean literally, Mr. Bear.  I mean them people," laughed the baker.
"Yes, I know.  I was not referring to those beasts stampeding in the streets.  Have you seen a clown wearing a winter green tunic?  He ran this way," replied the bear.
"Are you two friends at the circus or somethun'? 'Cause I saw an interestin' creature.  He smiled at me, very strangely.  His face print is still on that window.  He was wearin' a purple hat with big ears attached to it," said the baker thoughtfully.
"What way did he go?"
The baker stared out the window.
"Where did he go!" roared the bear.
The baker's jaw dropped and no sound came out.  He pointed to the window.
The clown was standing around the edge of the crowd.  He was throwing smoke bombs and firing shots into the air like a cowboy.
The bear rushed out of the bakery.  When the clown saw the bear running towards him on all fours, he laughed and ran towards the park. 

11:26am: Story Time: Brown Bear and the Revolver, Chapter 3
 

11:38pm: Story Time: Brown Bear and the Revolver, Chapter 2

“Hello,” said a voice.

The bear looked around him. There was nothing in front of him but a fountain. He dipped his claw into the water and pulled out a clawful of change.

“Hello!” The voice squealed this time.

He emptied the change into his bear pockets and turned around. A hundred yards away, people were crossing the streets, looking into the shops, and conversing merrily with one another.  No one seemed to care about the little girl with the side pony tail and blue rain boots.  

“Why do you not answer me!?” called the voice.

“Whom am I to answer to? I see no one,” mumbled the bear.

“What do you mean you see no one?” laughed the voice. The bear felt a splash of water. He whipped around and stared at the fountain. The water had been disturbed and now rippled over the stone edge. A figure dashed behind the base of the fountain. The bear heard a giggle.

“Come out now. I'm sorry I did not see you before,” the bear said with a soothing voice.

A small clown appeared. He wore a winter green tunic with a cape.  He had a purple hat with large ears that spanned the length of his arms. His face was painted white and black. His nose was a pink ball. The fingers had been cut off of his pink gloves and white finger tips clung to an empty bottle.

“See, isn't this more fun now that I can see you?” asked the bear.

“Yes!” cried the clown. Then, he threw the bottle into the air. The bear did not move and watched as it crashed into the water. The clown disappeared behind the fountain. The bear pulled out his revolver and walked around the fountain. When he came to the spot where the clown had been, he stopped. There was no clown. 

11:43pm: Story Time: Brown Bear and the Revolver, Chapter 1

The brown bear stood at the corner.  He peered into the bakery. 

A little girl was standing in front of the counter.  She had a side pony tail and blue rain boots on.  She motioned to the baker.  He disappeared behind the counter.  When he returned, the little girl beamed.  She jumped up and down and twirled around.  The baker smiled and handed her a loaf of bread.

"What a strange girl,"  the bear thought.

The little girl handed the baker a quarter and ran out of the store with the loaf of bread.  The bear watched her very closely.  When she reached the corner where he was standing, she looked up and said,
"Mr. Brown bear, would you like some of my bread?"
"What kind of bread?" asked the bear. 
"Strawberry," she replied.
"I've never tasted strawberry bread and I don't think I would like it.  I would like all of the money in your pocket, though," said the bear.

The little girl looked puzzled.  The bear pulled out a small revolver.

"Give me your money, little girl" snarled the bear.
"NO! I will not give you my money!" screamed the little girl.

The townspeople began to crowd around the bear and the little girl.  A man approached the bear and asked why he was pointing a revolver at the little girl.

"Because she is a filthy, little rat and she did not pay full price for her strawberry bread."
"What a horrible little girl!" yelled the man, "Call the police!"

The police arrived within minutes. 
"Who stole the strawberry bread!? Who's the thief!?" they asked.

The townspeople pointed at the little girl.

The little girl began to cry.  She said she had paid the baker twenty-five cents for her bread.  The police laughed and exclaimed,
"Twenty-five cents! Why that isn't even enough to buy a cup of sugar!  Do you know how much sugar it took to make that bread, little girl?"

She shook her head and said she did not.  They carried her off to the police station and her parents were called. 

The brown bear put his revolver back into his pocket and walked towards the town's square.

11:50pm: Introduction to "Story Time"
I'm going to start writing stories.  Each entry will be one part to the story.  When it is finished, I will say: The End. 

9:14am: Giant Madness

Right now, my ears are being flooded with the sound of a very large crowd.  They're all cheering for the Super Bowl "World" Champions who will be marching up Broadway in a couple of hours. The Ticker Tape Parade is not as exciting to me as it is to everyone else.    

I like that my building is in a very historic/popular part of the city, but I'm not a huge Giants fan.  I think it's great that they're celebrating.  But wouldn't they rather celebrate in a place better suited for celebratory crowds, i.e. Time's Square? 

Don't they know people work here!  I'm trying to concentrate, but occasionally my floor shakes from the vibrations of the crowd.  I feel like I'm in a football stadium.  

The streets are completely crowded and will be blocked off in an hour.  I won't be able to escape until after the parade is over and the people have been properly dispersed. 

Oh god, the horns are out.  The parade hasn't even started yet...on top of that, I'm starving.  I have no where to get food.  This isn't good.  

12:08pm: Seven Hole Punchers
Don't work.  The seven hold puncher is supposed to give you options, like, "How many holes do I want?" and Where do I want to punch these holes?"  The box tells me I can have have 1-7 holes.  The product, however, does not know that the box has promised me variety!

__ __ __      __      __ __ __

The above diagram illustrates the position of the holes.

The problem with a seven hole puncher is that if you "lock" or "bolt" the first hole (giving you six holes) The paper has to slide down.  You are then left with a very asymmetrical set of holes.  And if you want three holes you're screwed because there are ZERO three-hole binders that align each hole a centimeter apart.   You could of course "lock" the holes that are not to puncture the paper, but then you're left with the mind boggling puzzle of how to fit the damn paper into a slit with four bolts obstructing the entrance!

I'm throwing it out.

You suck seven hole puncher.

12:51pm: Bad Fashion

Disgrace!

I'm wearing hot pink ankle socks and red, low top converse shoes with pleated brown dress slacks and a forrest green baby doll shirt.    I have no make up on and my bangs are lopsided.

I am bad fashion.

Oh, and I just overheard a co-worker tell another co-worker (who is somewhat over weight) that she needed to go on Weight Watchers and learn how to eat...hmmmmmm.  I wonder when the fight is going to start.

1:50pm: Shower thought

I was in the shower last night listening to the classic rock station.  

I couldn't help feeling like music from the late 60's-70's sounded like it was moving forward; like you were in a car going somewhere.

Today's crap on the radio sounds like it's going in circles; we're all on a merry-go-round.

That was my shower thought.

8:06pm: Lush
I just finished an hour long bath.  I'm the most relaxed and comfortable I've been in weeks.  Go get some LUSH bath cake.  It's deliciously calming.  

1:19am: Intiations
Do you want to read?!  Well, be my friend.

I'm afraid of the CIA and future employers finding out what shoe size I have and what I had for dinner.  I like my privacy as much as anyone.

VOTE LIBERTARIAN!

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