The lead in to April Fool's

I guess the week of April Fool's needs to be eventful.

If you've had the pleasure of reading one of my former posts about my accident prone days just think of this as some sort of bad joke as a continuation of that period in my life.

They say you often have a "feeling" something is going to happen before it actually does. Maybe this is a woman's sixth sense, "instinct" or maybe it's just one of those strange inexplicable paranormal occurrences. In any case, I gave my blood, sweat, and well I saved the tears for later to Flag Football. That's right I bled for the game. One man had already gone down with a sprained ankle and somehow I was next.

It was my signature play and as I go for the touchdown I catch the ball and before I know it I hit the ground like a skater on pavement. Luckily this wasn't pavement and the grass pillowed my fall or well gave me grass burns, bruises and scratches up the left side of my body. However, the large tortoise shell sunglasses I had stubbornly decided to wear in effort of shielding my tired eyes from the burning California sun pierced my temple leaving a bloody gash in their wake of falling from my face. It all felt like a bad slow-mo montage on MTV. Thinking I just hit the ground pretty hard as everyone crowded around, I eventually stood up as I kept hearing gasps and a stunned silence. It's not like I was dripping blood. Well that is until I put my sleeve up to my head when someone said there was blood. My whole reaction to the incident was "Fuck." Simple, expressionless, and just annoyed with myself for wearing my damn sunglasses. Arriving back at the picnic tables where our stuff was sprawled, one of the other girls tells me it just looks worse than it is while my friend walks up with a big wad of toilet paper laughing and telling me to use it. Dude, this isn't where I'm desperately asking my unknown neighbor in the stall next to me for some TP because my stall is out. TP? Really? Didn't your mom teach you that shit sticks to anything wet. I think I still have TP stuck in my gash. (Wow that sounded dirty. Forgive me or not.) Anyways, for some reason I was either stunned or just like well this sucks as I look down at the bloody wad of toilet paper. Thank god it wasn't like when I hit the back of my head on the grocery store floor leaving a bloody mess after I fell off the back of it. I was kind of a bloody mess.

The great part about the park we all play football at is that the bathrooms are relatively nice for a park but there's no mirror! It's like they want you to suffer. All I wanted to know was if there was dirt in my wound and if I needed stitches. But knowing I would have been crying if it was that bad I went to the bathroom with a couple of the girls who cleaned and bandaged me. So of course what do I do but go back out and play of course! Yes I'm that hardcore. Okay really I just wanted to play and it's kind of like if I'm not crying from the pain then I must be good to go.

A trip to the pharmacist later then led to Hydrogen Peroxide, Neosporin, and Waterproof Disney Princess Band Aids. The Transformers weren't big enough. Believe me I'd much rather be donning Bumblebee than Belle. All set and ready for my close up. Okay maybe just my launch at Angels Stadium for Bamboozle among So Cal teeny boppers thinking I'm making some sort of fashion statement.

AFter all of this chaos as I'm still cleaning my wound three times daily, my car decides to hyperventilate and the Check Engine light starts yelling at me. A call to my mechanic leads to a tow truck ride home with some dude from Idaho trying to buy my car on a payment plan for his 18 year old "funny and smart" son who goes to the University of Washington. What is this, a set up? The nightly chaos is over after learning your car hates you despite you hating it more and wanting to sell it only desperately hoping the mechanic won't end up ripping you off the next day with over a grand in labor charges. This leads to worry and non stop playing out every situation until you're still not satisfied only to wake up at 3:30 AM to your neighbor upstairs still editing with loud ass music as you grab the damn Swiffer Mop and bang on the ceiling. I felt like the little old lady from some Comedic film. I can't think of one but I can only imagine if I'd had a knee length nightgown on, slippers, and a hair net with glasses I would have come straight out of an 80s movie. Needless to say I toss and turn and my gash starts pounding as my alarm goes off at 5:15 AM. Lucky me.

One tow truck arrives only to inform me he'll kill my bumper if he drags my car behind him so he tells me to call for a flatbed which of course isn't something you can get a hold of until after 7 AM. The car shop opens at 7 AM. Awesome. Another tow truck later with a flat bed leads me to meeting the most angry black man I've met in a long time. I mean I was fearing for the lives of others on the road as he'd telling me how people call his number to complain about his driving and how it goes straight to his phone line. I mean he was a pro with the words "I'll get right on that." Oh Office Space I heart thee. So after his rants about stupid drivers and how flatbeds can't drive in Culver City because of city regulations we finally pass the stupid "wreck" which was really tree cutters on the 405 parking lot and I make it to my mechanic. Some more bitching from my tow truck driver and some texts to my co-worker, who is nice enough to drive me to and from work and the shop, finally lead to a much needed latte and work at last. Whew. Lucky break.

In the end the night before April Fool's Day I'm left still smiling because I was charged less than a grand, thank god and my gash appears to be healing as it now itches like crazy and it's bruising up nicely. I mean frankly the side of my face is starting to match the assorted colors of my band aids. Neato.

Guess we'll see what else is in store for me or NOT in store for me the rest of this eventful April Fool's week.

(Did I mention another friend of mind fried her computer with tea and the other one he blew up his car as it went up in smoke! What a week! They say shit happens in groups of threes. Chew on that.)

The -Ness

I'm sitting at work talking to my co-worker and posing the question, "Is geniusness a word?" The response I get, "Sure. It's not in Webster's Dictionary but I took a cultural studies class where we used the -ness to add essence." (Maybe not word for word how the conversations went but BRILLIANTNESS!)

So in light of unlocking this discussion I looked up "The Ness" on google. What do I get? Not what I expected. http://www.theness.com/ The New England Skeptical Society. Not only does this cater to my nerdy love for science but you're looking at one of the average Skeptics. What do I usually mention in most of my posts?! QUESTION EVERYTHING! (I was groomed from an early age kind of like I was trained to use the ladies room before I leave anywhere, and I mean anywhere.) But frankly despite the radness of this site this is not the point.

The "-ness" is what you can add to just about any word and add eloquence and give emphasis. Think about the Loch Ness monster and the River Ness. I mean yes the myth precedes itself but the River Ness and Scotsmen had no idea it would have such a killer name. So let's give a few examples shall we. (And for you video game nerds, this has nothing to do with the Nintendo game "Earthbound" and its character Ness even though he may have a bit of awesomeness since he uses a baseball bat to fight but I just learned he existed so forgive my naiveness of Nintendo games.)

Geniusness
Greatness
Brilliantness
Courageousness
Brightness
Awesomeness
Radness
Dudeness (Maybe this is a stretch but I like describing The Big Lebowski as "His Dudeness." I mean that just sounds like royalty.)
Rudeness
Sadness
Happiness
Forgetfulness
Thoughtfulness
Thoughtlessness (Ssssssuck on that one)
Hopelessness
Helpfulness
Goodness
Neediness
Pokiness (I had a softball coach named Poky. No joke. But yeah he was a joke.)
Coolness
Amazingness
Sweetness

I'd just like to point out that next time you are writing an email or describing someone or something why not throw in a -NESS.

I will now sign off here as "Yours truly, JStewNess" (This just sounds like a soup. Maybe I'll opt for Jessness? Maybe not.)

"What do you want from me..."

This line from Adam Lambert's stupid song has played over and over intermittently with some techno music for two nights now above me. I can't decide if the idiot who suddenly decided to do this is editing or just went through a break up!

All I want to do is make a shotgun appear and blow a hole in their freakin' speakers.

Let's get this straight, I love good music, I love to party, and I do not have a problem with loud neighbors until midnight on a weeknight. BUT 3 AM and blasting lyrics clearly? Really? And where my walls actually shake? This building has some kind of quiet curfew of 10PM so how is this possible?! For those of us getting up at like 5:45AM in the morning and working long hours, this shit is just RUDE.

Yes I've been up until this late playing Rock Band on weekends BUT not on a Monday or Tuesday night! So what it's LA and no one works or they're all unemployed. Maybe you're in school and you have no life so you sit at home listening to shitty music. I don't know. Is this some kind of mental breakdown? Maybe some girl cheated on you and you're feeling like the blatant lyrics of commercial music speak volumes despite their lack of imagination. Maybe you are training for American Idol or wishing you were on Real World. I just think you're a wannabe editor. Final Cut Pro and your Mac Pro desktop literally just spit out a "duh" screaming at your lack of skill. Obviously you are set on waking the entire complex with your amateur editor skills so GO BACK TO SCHOOL before it's too late! Perhaps I should offer my own critique or maybe just pose a simple "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!!!!"

Note: I woke up at 5:20AM to a rap song. Just thought I'd add that.