Now Making Guest Appearances!

I receive inquiries ALL THE TIME from so many of my fans regarding social functions and entertaining. Jennifer, how do I make my party exciting? How do I truly celebrate a life event in a special way? Do you know the secret to throwing the best bashes? DO I?!? Duh...

The best social gatherings all have one essential component: me.

Mingette & I on the wood carpet.

Now that we are entering the holiday season, my services will certainly be required at a great number of public events. In the last couple years, I limited my appearances to a select few engagements due to my time being occupied by other projects and a great many naps. This year, I aim to attend numerous celebrations, especially where I can get lots of free stuff like all the other celebrities.

This last weekend, I was invited to a VIP screening of an epic sporting competition. Mingette and I were amused by the idea of making an appearance as sporting events are not usually known to possess the level of class and sophistication we do. Fortunately, this gathering required only my presence and an offering of [redacted] candy and the plans were set. My driver had me to the door a reasonable hour late and I was ushered in quickly; no velvet ropes for this superstar!

I enjoyed a wide variety of exotic foods prepared by my personal chef (which we brought in, Hugh Hefner-style). The most wonderful surprise of the evening was the choice of beverage. Usually I enjoy a delightful glass of something grape-based and bubbly. However, I was introduced to an almost equally delicious beverage that was derived from another fruit: apple cider. How exquisite. This is soon to be a topic on which I will soon be an expert and eternally annoy friends, family, acquaintances and strangers alike. Cider is my new best friend.

Mingette loves Diego Valeri and would enjoy a scratch & a pat.

Mingette and I made our way to our reserved seating and watched some muscularly blessed men topple all over each other. As I am the Worst Timbers Blogger, I made sure to place most of my attention toward glimpsing abs and butts. Mingette is far better of a sports mind and often interrupted my viewing experience. She's writing a book about NASL Timbers and how much she hated their shorts.

The only difficulty I had with the evening was the fact the VIP area wasn't separated enough from the main viewing area. I'm sure I had to breathe the same air as some of the lesser people who probably haven't been on a reality show or made a sex tape yet or anything.

All in all, the evening was a success and I'm looking forward to more this season. I already have a few engagements booked in the next month and I'll be sure to tell you, my dear fans, all about them.

Post engagement on-site nap. The VIP area lacked the cushy couches I'm used to dancing on.

A Failed Self-Intervention

I've been living in a state of denial. I must confess my transgressions before I can continue with my recovery. Sadly, my dear fans, I've still been working. In a school.

WITH CHILDREN.

I know, I know. This is terrible news. Here I am, supposedly spending all day in bed nursing epic hangovers but instead I'm disappointing all of you with continued altruistic works. I tried to stop. Many times. The rush is just too good, you know? That look they get on their faces when they finally get it. When they understand what multiplication actually is. What gives trees their green color. Why Christopher Columbus was not a hero but a massive douche deserving of a day of national immolation, not celebration. I can't break this addiction, man. And now that I'm talking about it, I don't want to stop. Seriously.

Could you stop knowing you get things like this all the time?

Crack.

Several times a week, trembling hands accompanied by a smiling face bestow upon me works greater than that of the classic masters. Move over, Michelangelo, this kid can draw Pikachu from memory. Shut up, Monet. You only wish you could make me a fridge magnet of Wolverine with a light saber. This little girl's leaf rubbings are second to none, Rembrandt. And they are ALL MINE.

Fashion, I am disappoint.

For a long period of time I did attempt to shake this compulsion. About six weeks ago I went to a fashion show here in Portland. I was planning to attend all of the major shows this fall and started with a one-off with an artsy multimedia component. My optimistic outlook on my return to frivolity died within moments of entry. What I thought would be a welcome return to my preferred reality was instead a jarring wake-up call to my problematic mental state. There was something very wrong with me.

Why was I not elbowing people to get into the bar line? Why was I not fawning over this designer who's pretentiously showing a clip from The Monkees' Head (it was the bridge scene and everything!) before their show? Why was I more preoccupied by this line's tangential connection to a Doctor Who reference than their actual clothing?

I couldn't even figure out ahead of time the looks for which we were going to arbitrarily choose to clap. Of course it was the man-sized baby onesie. Of COURSE it was. And I missed it. Everyone else knew to clap but I didn't. Instead, I thought to myself, "This guy in the giant onesie looks ridiculous. Where the hell would you wear that?" Clearly, I was off my game. I felt so out of place I decided not to attend any further shows this season.

Attending the shows was supposed to be a major source of inspiration to me as I am finishing up some touches on the accessories line I'm about to launch. I have decided to try once more to foist my hats upon the masses, but this time I'm additionally offering handbags and various jewelry. As I profit, I will reinvest into my business to buy better sewing equipment and move on to clothing. The sense of pressure I had has been deflated and I have decided to proceed toward my humor writing and fashion house dreams at my own, non-stressful pace. It'll happen when it happens. And in the meanwhile, I can get a bigger high by teaching what I know about sewing and other subjects to some awesome children, who are inspiring me more than any giant onesie even would.

Don't worry. I have plenty of other ways to do nothing most of the rest of the time. And I still love my bubbly.