The Devil Page

I Have Ended the Tyranny of Adsense!

2011-08-02T06:18:00.000-07:00

You know what's been aggravating the crap out of me lately? All the bullshit ads all over my fucking blog.

I don't know who convinced me to get into bed with Adsense. I get absolutely nothing out of it. They get to cover my page in ads that are, at best, completely annoying and, at worst, kind of offensive and antithetic to my mission around here (self-indulgence mostly, but also feminism and green-living). There have been more than a few that made me wince at their anti-feminist leanings. There were a few that advertised meat products - yes, really. The only thing I get in return is a whole bunch of junkmail at my actual real live home that trying to sell me google advertising. Dicks.

So fuck you, Adsense. Fuck the fake blogger who really worked for Adsense who convinced me it would increase my page views and pay me tall stacks of cash. Fuck your littering all over the place, cramming 8 or 9 ads per blog post on here. I deleted all your garbage this morning and now the 3 people who read this blog and I don't have to look at it anymore.

Adsense is a bunch of weiners,
J

Let's Talk About Vegetarians and Superheroes

2011-07-28T07:43:00.000-07:00

I WILL SHOVE THAT GIANT MUSHROOM UP YOUR ASS

Who gave meat-eaters the crazy idea that all vegetarians just lose their shit for Portobello mushrooms? Really, someone please tell me who is behind this conspiracy so I can smack them in their stupid faces.

For the record: I am a vegetarian. I have always been a vegetarian.

This does not mean I care about little animals, or support PETA (although I do support them, but more about that later), or want to convert all you meat-eaters out there to my cause. I don't have a cause and I don't care what you eat unless you've taken something that I wanted. I am not depriving myself of delicious carcasses because I think all that mess is completely revolting. Hey, more for you guys, right? Someone has to eat all those cows that get skinned for my shoes and handbags and furniture. You want to eat animals? So what, you like to eat gross things. I think olives are gross too.

I also do not like veggie burgers. So they taste just like real burgers, you say? That sounds horrible. Why would I like fake meat any more than real meat if they taste so similar.

Granted, there are some breeds of vegetarian that can't get enough of fake meat products. Tofu dogs, fake chicken nuggets, veggie burgers, tempeh, setan! Here's the thing, folks: THESE ARE THE POLITICAL A-HOLES WHO WANT TO CONVERT YOU TO THEIR CAUSE. These are the vegetarians that are depriving themselves of something they obviously want and miss so they can espouse their high-minded ideals. And hey: I don't have anything against high-minded ideals EXCEPT when your high-minded ideals make a good chunk of the population assume that I am some judgemental, self-righteous dick who expects everyone to change their lifestyle because I'm sitting here shaming them.

Political vegetarians make me nuts and there are so many of them nowadays. You know why? Because being a vegetarian is EASY now. Every restaurant has vegetarian options right there on the menu and (I really can't stress this enough) people are not shocked by the concept of not eating meat. They might make stupid quips along the lines of "oh my god, aren't you just DYING for a burger sometimes?!", but they understand that vegatarians exist. When I was just a tiny devil, this was not the case. If I went to a nice restaurant with my family, I got to have a small dinner salad or have my mother try to convince the kitchen to make something off the menu. People are so much more entitled these days, they don't think much of making all sorts of demands of any service person. But back in the day (this wasn't even all that long ago as I'm not very old), this was not a commonplace practice. And the staff would still treat me like I had three heads because the chances were good that they had never encountered a vegetarian before.

So here is my advice to vegetarians:
- Stop expecting everyone to cater to you or magically know that you're a vegetarian without telling them
- If you are invited to a barbeque, bring a vegetarian dish that EVERYONE can enjoy. Pasta salad, potato salad, chips, desserts. Don't just bring some gross veggie burgers for yourself or sit and pout because they weren't provided for you by the host. Have you heard that everyone hates a vegetarian? I'm talking about building bridges, people.
- If you are a vegan, just don't tell anyone about it. They will hate you immediately and with good reason.

And here is my advice to meat-eaters:
- Stop asking me if I'm dying for a hamburger.
- When finding out that I've never eaten meat, don't say "You mean you've never had a delicious hamburger once in your life?" Seriously? Not filet mignon, not a $50 T-bone - fucking hamburger. Up until fairly recently (the advent of the fast food lifestyle), hamburger was peasant food. You're all fucking peasants, cut it out.
- If you know vegetarians are coming over for a meal and you want to pick up something special for them, take a second to inquire if they like veggie burgers or portobello mushrooms first please. Now, I was raised to have fine manners and I would never ever ever fail to be polite at someone's home to which I have been invited. And if you've gone to the effort of getting a special food product to cater to my eating habits, then I will do nothing other than act delighted and eat as much of it as I can force down. But again, in the spirit of bridge-building, don't just assume that all vegetarians love veggie burgers and portobello mushrooms.

Now that we're all friends, let's have a brief discussion about PETA

EXPLAINING PETA TO PEOPLE WHO ARE STUPID

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals is a political organization known for ridiculous stunts and extreme political views. People Who Are Not Very Smart (a political group that encompasses nearly all Republicans and a solid number of meat-loving liberals) just can't stand them. Can you believe the latest crazy thing that crazy PETA did?!? Who could possibly accept the ideas of a group whose values are just so outrageous?!?

Guess what? NOBODY. Not even the people in PETA. Not even the people in charge of PETA.

Here's what PETA does: they take everything to the logical extreme. And their extremes are really extreme. And ridiculous and totally out there.

Here's the funny part: PETA does not want you to agree with them.

PETA wants you to demonize them as total extremist wackjobs. The funny thing that happens is that people are willing to accept the more reasonable change when there is someone is demanding a huge change. This is what PETA is actually trying to accomplish - the moderate change - and they are remarkably good at what they do.

So please carry on clutching your pearls everytime PETA enagages in their nutty antics, that's how they get the job done.

PHOENIX JONES IS AMERICA'S FINEST CITIZEN

The sexy beast in the header picture up there is called Phoenix Jones. This is not the name his mother gave him and he didn't come out of the womb with that outfit on (well, probably not). Phoenix Jones is a real life superhero who lives and heroes in Seattle, WA. I'm not going to do some trend piece on the emergence of real life superheroes: I don't discuss the trends, I set them. What I want to do is make you feel bad about yourself.

REASONS WHY PHOENIX JONES IS WAY BETTER THAN YOU

1.) He wears an awesome costume

It doesn't look comfortable or breathable but it is bullet-proof and stab-proof. You just mull that over while you're hanging out in your revolting Crocs because your little toesies can't even handle proper shoes.

2.) He is the leader of a 10 member superhero group

Phoenix is the head of the Rain City Superheros: 9 other awesomely costumed, crimefighting badasses. You aren't. Do you even have a secretary?

3.) He risks his life and safety to do the job the cops aren't

I live in a neighborhood that has a lot of drug trade. Drug trade is crime and it leads to other crime, particularly the violent sort. What do the cops do? Nothing really. They ignore it. The neighborhoods that Phoenix Jones operates in have far worse drug trade and violent crime than my neighborhood and he's trying to do something about that. He confronts drug dealers and tells them that they need to get their trade off the streets. When was the last time you told a drug dealer to get the hell off your block?

4.) He helps people who need help instead of assuming someone else will do it

We've all heard the stories of people attacked on city streets while people just walk by and do nothing. If you haven't heard these anecdotes, step away from the blog and go pick up a newspaper already. Phoenix Jones sees this crap going on and he gets right in the middle of it. He's had his nose broken, he's been stabbed, but he just keeps going at it because he wants so badly to do SOMETHING to help people.

5.) He is a hero in his real life paying job

As I sit languishing in my climate-controlled office writing blogs, ordering books on Amazon, and reading dumb crap on the internet, Phoenix Jones does social work.

6.) Phoenix Jones is under 25 years old

According to the reasonably legitimate information I've culled on this guy, he is no older than 23. At 23, my biggest accomplishment on any given evening was hitting some bars with my friends. A good portion of the people I know were/are still living with their parents at 23 years old. I know half a dozen people that hadn't even finished college by the age of 23, even though they had been attending full-time since they were 18. Phoenix Jones is 23 and he's a fucking superhero.

Things That Sound Like Jokes But Are Not Jokes

2011-07-26T11:08:00.000-07:00

Apparently, my office is infested with feral cats.

This does not appear to be absurd gossip of the sort that I like to spread around the office (ex. My coworker, Brian, is a costumed crimefighter after hours ala Phoenix Jones). I caught a conversation this morning amongst the facilities guys and some administrators discussing the issue and complaining about how the exterminator they called in to deal with the issue did a crap job of inspecting the building. For feral cats. FERAL CATS IN THE BUILDING.

I haven't seen any cats in my office or roaming the neighborhood in cat gangs. I would definitely notice something like that. I'll keep you posted on new developments as I receive them.

Head-scratchingly yours,

Jillian

UPDATE!!!!
I can hardly breathe and the guy who sits next to me has been sneezing all day - we're both allergic to cats. There may be some truth to this completely preposterous idea.

Aggravations & General Nonsense

2011-07-26T08:38:00.000-07:00

I'm really terribly bored today, guys, so I will spend some time disseminating my particular brand of wisdom on the internet (disclaimer: nothing contained in this blog is intended to be at all wise. Well, maybe the fashion tips)

A LITTLE BACKGROUND

I work a day job!

Yeah, yeah, yeah: you're saying to yourself "But Jillian, you're the devil! It sounds so uncool for the devil to have a day job" annd, trust, I agree with you. But that doesn't necessarily make my dayjob some Dilbert-esque Office featuring Steve Carrell and Rainn Wilson sad-sack operation. We have a corporate chef who appears on reality cooking shows, an in-house masseuse, company outings that involve everyone getting absolutely shitfaced as a rule, and tons upon tons of hot dudes. Admittedly, the hot dudes here aren't of the tattooed loud-music-loving variety of which I am fond. Many of them are pretty douchey. On their off-hours, I picture them wearing polo shirts [I hate polo shirts, but more about that later] with plaid shorts and loafers without socks. Just terrible. But a good-looking man is a good-looking man and I appreciate some pleasant scenery while I'm toiling away at the office. Now, I'm not going to tell you what company I work for or the industry I'm in. Anyone who can manage a google search with some degree of finesse could probably figure it out from the info above and I have a (nominally) professional image to uphold.

Where was I going with all this? Ah yes: I'm bored today because business is slow so I'll give in to the pathetic and incessant pleas of my millions of fans and write something new for the page. Just kidding: no one reads this garbage and I only do it to feed my incredible narcissism.

I HATE POLO SHIRTS

Why on earth would anyone wear a garment so ridiculously hideous? WHY?!?!?!?! The putrid soft collar, the disgusting placket with plastic buttons, the icky little banded sleeves that create an apallingly fey blouson effect. Seriously, you want to wear a sleeve that gay, why half-ass it? Wear a fucking pirate shirt or something lacy ala romance novel covers. I can respect that. Hell, I encourage it. Which brings me to my next point:

MORE MEN SHOULD BE SHOPPING IN THE INTERNATIONAL MALE CATALOG

No, I'm not drunk right now.

I'm sick of how men dress in America. It is so unbelievably dull. Polo shirts (hoooaaaaaarrrrrrrrkkk - that was me barfing), poorly tailored slacks, nearly all athletic shoes currently on the market, cargo shorts, button-down shirts worn without ties on a consistent basis, and nearly everything in a palette of blue/brown/grey. You guys are freaking killing me. Just looking around my office right now, I see 7 dudes in beige slacks and light blue shirts. Gentleman, know this: I want to set your homes on fire so everything in your closets will burn up and you will be forced to purchase new attire. But that doesn't really tackle the issue as you'll just go buy more beige pants and light blue shirts. I hate you for this.

The International Male Catalog (if you are unfamilar, #1 What is wrong with you? and #2 This is what google is for) has panache. In spades. Plenty of panache to spare to your light blue polo shirted lame butt. Suit jackets in bright colors with 3/4 length hems! Crocodile loafers in bright colors to match your insane suit! PIRATE SHIRTS! And a men's underwear collection guaranteed to cause anyone who sees you in them to make fun of you to their friends at the earliest possible opportunity.

Yes, people will talk. They will call you crazy. They might call you gay (which is a compliment because everyone knows that gay men are super snappy dressers). But some, ahem, unconventional gear like that does say "I'm here to participate". Your polo shirt, emphatically, does not.

THINGS THAT ARE DELICIOUS

Falafel!

If you live in Chicago, you need to be eating at Sultan's on a regular. Other things at Sultan's that are delicious: tabboule, jerusalem salad, zatter fettia sandwich, spinach pie.

Vegan Pad Thai!

You know what's totes gross in any sort of veggie and noodle dish? Eggs. Gross. Tonally off. I'm not against eggs as a rule, although I'm terribly suspicious of their motives. I just don't think they work outside of your standard breakfast preparations. And since I'm such a giver, and extremely METAL to boot, I present to you...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeZlih4DDNg

[The embed is not functioning. Not very metal, my friends]

Personally, I like to drop some snowpeas and pineapple in it too. Spicy grilled pineapples are truly truly truly outrageous (Jem!). The Vegan Black Metal Chef is the very antithesis of polo shirts, by the way.

Cheese!

I just like cheese, you got a problem with that?

That's enough ranting for now, stay tuned for all new dumb bullshit this week like:

- Movie reviews! Have you seen Coming to America? It's terrific!

- Me complaining about how people dress themselves! Just joshing, you guys all look fantastic (snort)

- More talking about food! Everyone hates a vegetarian, or haven't you heard?

Until next time,

The Devil

What the hell is with air guitar?

2009-07-27T11:18:00.000-07:00

Hello everybody!

I'm extremely sleepy today because I was out all day yesterday being extremely awesomely metal. How metal, you ask?

Well, we went to see SLAYER. Slayer is the freaking jam. They ruled the school. They had awesome explosions and various awesome flaming setpieces and awesome long hair and they headbanged in an awesome way. In a word: it was AWESOME.

Also awesome:

CANNIBAL CORPSE!

They too played the show! We were getting absolutely baked in the copious sunshine (and those of you that know me know that I look like an underground cave creature who's never before seen sunlight) and shoved up against sweaty strangers, but Cannibal Corpse brought some serious rock to that venue. They aren't Slayer-level awesome, but they did a fine job nonetheless. Kudos and extra props to the lead singer for being quite charming with the crowd.

Now, you know how it goes around here: you rarely get sweet without a little (a lot) of the salty. So....

HERE'S WHAT WAS DECIDELY NOT AWESOME ABOUT MAYHEM FEST:

1.) Marilyn Manson

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

Bitch did not even try. I'm not wild about the music of Marilyn Manson but you can usually count on that character for a decent stage show. Granted, we were sitting on the lawn at a big amphitheatre but dude wasn't even dressed crazy. He flailed around the stage while the elaborate lighting burned our retinas out and, whenever there was a break in the musical proceedings, just screamed "CHICAGO!!!" at the crowd. That shit is just cheap. Yeah, people will probably scream at a rock show regardless of what the act is shouting at them, but I would at least like some effort at amusement or originality. I also think that Manson was innebriated in some fashion. Admittedly, the band does do a song about cocaine and rock music has a long and illustrious history with chemical abuse. However, I do have to draw the line when it is so deleterious to the performance. It was crappy. Slayer played just before Manson and they killed (hee, pun intended). Manson came on, didn't even play for 40 minutes, and sucked ass like a was a melting popsicle. We left before they finished, but the early reviews from others in attendance were not dissimilar to mine.

2.) Chicks dressed in various inappropriate fashions

What part of "we will be outside, in the daytime, at a music festival, outdoors, where there are very few chairs and likely we will be sitting on the ground" says "I should totally wear a corset, a miniskirt and spike heels". From what I can tell, that would be the opposite of what you should wear for that type of event. Some things are evening-wear only and anything involving a corset definitely falls into that category. Also in the hideous fashion column:

Girls wearing bras around like they are shirts. They are not shirts. If they were shirts, they would be called "shirts" and not "bras".
Girls wearing heels they can't walk in. Looking terribly awkward and/or in pain is not what anyone should be going for in their sartorial endeavors.
Girls wearing enormous platform boots when they don't have the frame to pull that look off. If you're tall and buxom, it works because there is some balance there. If you are tiny, you just look like a tiny girl with giant mutant feet.
Cheap-looking crocheted, cropped halter tops sold by vendors at the event. These are hideous, absolutely horrible, yet I saw more than one girl who purchased said item and changed into it. What? You didn't look hideous enough when you arrived? I think you probably did, no need to elaborate on it.

3.) Sweaty strangers

Ewww. Ew.

4.) AIR GUITAR!

Words can't describe how much air guitar irritates me. I hate it, I don't understand the compulsion to do it, and it makes everyone look like a fucking moron. There isn't really an instrument there, so it's not like you're providing some valuable assistance to the band. Moreover, it's not like this "air guitar", when translated onto an actual instrument, would provide the correct notes. The air guitar mutants are just flailing about! The worst is when folks do the half-assed air guitar ala a single hand "strumming" on the thigh area. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE WACKING IT, SO CUT IT OUT.

Also included: air drums, air bass, air jazz flute. I am against the playing of all imaginary instruments.

That's it, I'm too tired to further amuse you. Go fetch me a coffee and I may be willing to negotiate.

Go get a real freaking instrument already,

Jillian

UPDATES!!

2009-07-22T10:23:00.000-07:00

I totally saw a hot priest this morning. He was Greek or Italian and looked like a cross between the young priest in The Exorcist and a twink male model.
The people of Humboldt Park still enjoy bad music.
I think I have new neighbors downstairs in the apartment formerly occupied by the man known as "Freaky-Deeky Neighbor". The nickname is pretty descriptive of his behavior: he was a superfreak and not in a Rick James awesome sort of way.
The end is nigh.

Keep it in your pants,

J-Killa

Why does everyone have to be such enormous jackasses all the time?

2009-07-22T09:03:00.000-07:00

Ugh, people are so lame. Heterosexual men are the absolute lamest.

Here's the story:

I was at my office yesterday, just doing my thing (being awesome and extremely attractive). I try to keep this blog semi-anonymous; you never know what kind of weirdos you're working with who may have googled you and come upon this little slice of insanity. In the spirit of vagueness, I will only say that I work in a fairly standard office environment with a large sales team of about 60 people. In this business, there are certain vendors that like to ply us with food and booze and tickets to baseball games in attempts to garner our favor. That's super, who doesn't want a free lunch? However, sometimes they take this good-natured bribery in unforseen and undeniably creepy directions.

One particular vendor - I will, for the sake of mystery, call them 'Precise Assemblage' - bought the whole office lunch a few weeks back. The lunch was fabulous but it was merely to distract from the company's sales rep loitering about and annoying everyone in her path. I hate to speak ill of a lady that's just trying to get her sales on, but she is so cloying, so overenthusiastic, so phony that everyone was making efforts to look extra busy so she wouldn't bother them. That was the first instance that characters from Precise Assemblage landed in our office, but not the last.

The first representative of Precise Assemblage singled me out because I order most of the products that we would be getting from this vendor. Fine, I humored her for a few minutes and listened to her spiel. I ended up putting several orders for products through her company, but the products were not delivered and the level of customer service was not acceptable. This is a cut-throat industry and there are plenty of companies that do what Precise Assemblage does, and I was happy to tell them this as I told them they were total crap (in the nicest way possible). Between the original rep and another woman at their office, I must say that they stepped up their game in a significant way since my complaint. I was happy, they were still getting our orders, nothing more to say, correct?

Apparently not. The original representative was back in the office yesterday, along with her boss. I will call him Mr. Smarmy Slick-Haircut. I made every effort to look extremely busy, talk on the phone as much as possible, or put on my headphones in an effort to keep these two jokers away from me. No such luck. Original rep cornered me by the copy machine and I managed to be nice and dismissive. Once I returned to my desk, Mr. Smarmy Slick-Haircut saunters over and exclaims "JILLIAN! So nice to finally meet you!" I have never seen nor heard of this character before, so I am understandably perplexed. He goes on to tell me that his name is [name redacted] and he's the orginal rep's boss and he's heard so much about me. Frightening and weird, especially as I'm sitting at my desk and he's looming over me a bit too close for comfort. I make some crack about him knowing my name because I complained and he goes on and on about how it's imperative to get client feedback and all sorts of other jargony things.

Here's where it becomes embarassing for all persons involved:

Mr. Smarmy Slick-Haircut tells me if I have any problems in the future, I can call him directly. I thanked him and said that the original rep and the other woman at their office were so efficient in handling my concerns that I really had no need to call him. He then goes on to say that I can call him even if I don't have a problem: "Well, you are welcome to call me for good and bad things!". Odd phrasing, I agree. THEN, he presents me with his business card and says....

"My cell phone number is on here, that's the BATPHONE. You can reach me there ANY time."

The Batphone

Mr. Smarmy Slick-Haircut seems to believe he's Batman, which I'm pretty sure is like Highlander in there can be only one. If anyone would like the number to the Batphone, send me an email. The person who sends me the weirdest pickup line wins the prize.

I'll show you a caped crusader,

Jillian

So you want more blogs?

2009-07-20T11:45:00.000-07:00

The picture above is how I feel about your requests.

So these jerks (you know who you are) have been harassing me to write this blog more often and, occasionally, such harassment is actually effective. Or, I have a lot of free time on my hands, as is the case today.

We need a topic now, don't we? How about some reviews. My opinions are waaaaaay better than your opinions and it would just be cruel of me to keep them to myself.

Here goes....

SOME MOVIES I'VE SEEN LATELY AND WHAT I THINK ABOUT THEM

1.) Pineapple Express

Yes, this came out a while ago but I just got it from Netflix last week. I don't go to see movies at the movie theater ever: it makes for a lame first date, I am not patient enough to deal with the noise and children of other people, I'm old enough to just go to a bar, and I have a bladder like an acorn. TMI? Perhaps, but it's a pretty unfortunate cross to bear.

So, the movie: the movie is not what I expected i.e. a light stoner romp along the lines of Half Baked. It certainly starts as such, but devolves into a surrealist's interpretation of an action movie. For instance, the third major protagonist in the film gets shot something like 10 times during the second half of the film and is perfectly fine without an real explanation why he isn't dead. If you're wondering why I don't know the actor's name, he's the one who never gave Judd Apatow a blow job (cough cough SETH ROGEN cough James DiFranco cough cough cough). He's funny though. Also bizarre and non-sequitous is all the balls-out violence that the movie jumps into. You just....don't expect it from the previews, I guess. Personally, I was pleasantly surprised. I like a solid handful of "this shit just doesn't make sense" as well as a few buckets of blood and effluvia in my cinema.

The Prognosis: Won't cure cancer but would be fun to watch with your buddies while enjoying some cocktails or other things***

2.) Rachel Getting Married

If you have a sister/possibly gay brother who insists on marrying a woman anyway, who is seriously pretentious and has way too many obnoxious artist and musician friends who all think they are the damn bee's knees - this is the movie for you. Or rather, this is the movie to prepare yourself for said relation's nuptials or to convince you to just kill yourself before the twee blowhard-fest gets underway.

Don't get me wrong, this is a really good movie. Anna Hathaway as the bitch-machine former meth-addict/model sister of the eponymous Rachel, who is getting married dontcha know, is divine. Rachel, played by some chick, is beyond revolting. OMG, she's marrying a black dude! HOW PROGRESSIVE! Oh wow, they have so many musician friends who CONSTANTLY play their folksy whatever because they're just so ARTISTIC! How sweet, they have a rehearsal dinner where EVERY SINGLE PERSON makes a speech (because you know how hipsters love listening to themselves talk). Holy smokes, they're opting for saris instead of traditional western wedding attire. HOW UNUSUAL!!!!!! For the love of jeebus, the groom starts singing to his bride during the vows BECAUSE HE'S A MUSICIAN!!!! No, this isn't awkward and kind of creepy (I lied, it totally is). The bridal couple and their friends are just so barfy and, unfortunately, Anne Hathaway's character never takes the piss out of them for being such enormous douches.

The Diagnosis: While definitely engaging, I would have liked Anne Hathaway to call everyone douchebags at least 5 times. That about sums up the douchiness.

[I'm already getting bored with this topic]

Alright, one more:

3.) Special

When I first saw this movie on Netflix, I assumed it was about me (reasonable). Alas, it's an amusing little indie about a guy who gets some good ol' fashioned brain trauma that makes him think he's developing super powers. It's charming and strange and a little sad, but mostly it makes you feel better about lunatics on the street. Maybe they just think they're super heroes and that's why they're shouting at those cars like that. It's a feel good film.

The Prescription: watch this movie, then go have a chat with a homeless.

Okay, new topic.

WEIRD CRAP I'VE SEEN AROUND HUMBOLDT PARK LATELY

I didn't live-blog the Puerto-Rican Day parade this year but, then again, I never had any intention to. I typically opt out as I am not puertorican, I don't like reggaeton, and the only flag I have features an airbrush of that seminal musical group, Poison. Instead, I went to the beach with my sister and then we went out for some mexican food. I'm sure the parade was super awesome: 1 million puertoricans with 5 million puertorican flags couldn't be wrong.

This weekend, I saw possibly the most impractical vehicle imaginable: I think it was an impala, 1970's or early 80's maybe. This is pure conjecture as I don't really know anything about cars (or care). Anyhoo, this bad boy was decked out in a major way. It had HUGE HUGE HUGE tires - easily twice the size of what normally would be on that car, and they had shiny chrome spinning rims (of course). The piece de resistance was that the car had full hydraulics and the hydraulics were being fully employed! I am not exaggerating when I say the bottom chassis (see, that's a car word) was about at eye-level for me. The bottom of the car was 5 freaking feet off the ground, just cruising down Division like "What? Everybody cool has a ridonkulously tall car with giant wheels that probably don't even fit in the wheel wells". I tip my hat to you, you crazy impala virtuoso!

At the Fruteria: those of you that know me well know how I feel about the mighty Fruteria. I love it and its wacky denizens, although I could probably do without the smell of the butcher shop in the back. I was in the Fruteria, as I am almost daily, after work one day last week and I overheard the most fascinating conversation. The proprietor of the establishment was having an argument with this young gentleman - the proprietor had accused the gentleman of stealing a carbonated beverage the day prior and the young gentleman said he did not do such a thing. IN FACT, as he effusively defended, he would never steal! If he wanted something, he would just take it, while stealing implies he would be trying to be sneaky about it. I know what you're thinking: what the hell is the difference? Well, as the young gentleman was trying to explain, he has no need to be sneaky, as he is such a bad ass that he would just take things flagrantly without hiding his actions. While that does clarify his position slightly, it certainly did nothing to assuage the proprietor's concern over that young man absconding with items he had not paid for, sneakiness or not. Ah, crazy people.

Outside the Fruteria: also last week, I was walking past the Fruteria on my way to work at 8am or so when I had this bizarre interlude: there was a big delivery truck parked on the sidewalk and, unless I'm mistaken, it was from Chicago Beverage. For those not in the know, Chicago Beverage is a major distributor of booze to stores and restaurants/bars in the city and I'm calling them out here because the people who work for them are damn crazy in the brains. Or one of them anyway. To wit: I am walking past and the delivery man is loading a dolly on the side of the truck as I am walking past. I get a few feet beyong where he is standing when he yells "HEY!! DID YOU JUST GRAB MY ASS!?!?" Um, no. "I SWEAR YOU JUST GRABBED MY ASS!!" I assure you, sir, I did nothing of the sort (yes, I really talk to people like this). "Well, where you going? Come back here!" I'm going to work, I don't have time for this. "AWWW, CMON! Come back!" And my final response was: Sir, it's too fucking early for this shit. And it really was. I do have to complement his technique for sheer insanity; if he was good-looking, it would have totally worked.

In the spirit of the anecdote above, I present to you....

A LIST OF BAD PICK UP LINES

(that will still work if you happen to be very attractive)

1.) "HEY!! DID YOU JUST GRAB MY ASS?!?!"

2.) "Did anyone ever tell you that you look just like Lily Taylor?", from a man with total Gollem teeth (watch Lord of the Rings if you don't catch my meaning) decked out in head to toe bright peach linen with white alligator shoes. While Lily Taylor is, no doubt, an attractive woman, she's easily 20 years older than me and I look young for my age. Stupid Gollem-teeth.

3.) "Are those space pants you're wearing? Because your ass is out of this world", employed by me in my college years. I am very attractive so this line always worked.

4.) "Hey baby, let's go back to your place and do some math. Add a bed, subtract your clothes, divide your legs and multiply", said at one point to my friend, Kris. Even if you are the sexy lovechild of Henry Rollins and the lead singer of Type O Negative, this line is too fucking gross to work ever. If you are even considering saying this to someone, you should probably get your head checked as you are CRAZY IN THE BRAINS. And not in a fun way.

5.) "Hey baby my name is (insert name) How are you?" Response: " I'm fine." Rejoinder "I didn't ask how you looked, I asked you how you were doing", also provided by Kris. Granted, this is beyond cheesy but, if you were the above mentioned sexy love child or even just regular ol' Henry Rollins, this would get you a laugh and a number.

On a slightly related note:

If you are on duty as a postal carrier, you should not be hitting on people.

I don't know why this bothers me so much. They're government workers? They wear uniforms? They could be fondling the books I buy from Amazon? Who knows? But I do declare, this is wrong behavior. Upon exiting my office one day with a female friend, the postal carrier outside (a severely obese and slovenly attired gent - therefore not covered by the "do whatever you want because you're really hot" caveat) first feigned a heart attack, then said something along the lines of "I'm going to have to serve you two ladies!". Naturally, my friend and I looked at him quizzically, whereupon he stated "It has to be illegal to look that fine!", thus implying that we should be served with legal summons for being so attractive. Buddy, just deliver the fucking mail and keep your commentary to yourself.

That's all I got for today, folks. Stop your bitching.

Love, Peace, and Hair Grease,

Jillian

***I'm talking about finger sandwiches. Stop being such a miscreant.

Let's Be Pointless

2009-04-08T12:58:00.000-07:00

Well, hello there.

I'm constantly harassed by my legion of fans to post more often (okay, one fan in particular but she is quite outspoken), so I'm making a half-assed effort of it today. Well, it's not so half-assed as it is without a particular topic - I don't manufacture news and frankly, not much is going on. That doesn't mean I have nothing to say. So allow me to present you with a general update on the goings on in the Devil's universe:

DEVIL NEWS!!!!

SPRING 2009 HUMBOLDT HOMELESS WATCH

Ahh, Chicago has finally graced us with some temperate weather and the local homeless are coming out of their burrows and Oscar the Grouch-style trashcans to greet the people. The new trend in homelessness this year is bizarre pretensions. Only this morning, one of the Fruteria Crew greeted me in an affected English accent with " 'Ello, love!" Thoroughly charming, keep up the good work and I look forward to your reviews of my Spring and Summer fashions. I have a feeling they will be overwhelmingly negative, as usual.

LITTLE CHICKEN TO BE PUZZLED AND ANNOYED BY NEW OFFSPRING

My darling goddaughter (aka MadDog Killer Baby aka Little Chicken) is going to be a big sister come this December. Seeing that this child has more attitude than someone 4 times her size, I predict that she will not like this new development one bit. For my part, I have already picked out tiny t-shirts with 'v1.0' and 'v2.0' on them and decided upon a nickname (because I rarely call anyone by their names and certainly not babies) for this latest offspring: Newbie.

BOOK REVIEWS

I love books and I read a ton of them.

River of Gods by Ian McDonald

- This book takes place in near-future India and, yes, it's sci-fi. I love sci-fi and I find Indian culture fascinating but I was initially given pause with this title as it's written by an Englishman who had lived briefly in India. Given the scope of the story (a number of discrete personalities are examined who lives eventually converge) and how deeply steeped in Indian culture it is, I can't help being impressed that this is a work of an outsider. What's not impressing: the author's need to drop every single Indian term he picked up in his time there in a shameless bid for authenticity. A little would have added legitimacy to the story without pushing past the bounderies of understanding but, as it is, I felt like I should be consulting an Indian slang dictionary after every paragraph. As a person who's managed to pick up some Chinese and Arabic from bootlegging tv shows from foreign sources, I can handle inferring the meaning of foreign words from context. But when every third word is a mystery, it gets distracting.

*D [self-indulgent and trying too fucking hard, don't bother]

When You Are Engulfed In Flames by David Sedaris

-I know this won't be popular with all of the David Sedaris ass-lickers out there but, in all honesty, Sedaris is losing his edge. I'm a fan and I've read all of his books but I wasn't able to devour this latest title as voraciously as his earlier works. His schtick is getting boring and he needs to change it up. "The Smoking Section" is 83 pages of David Sedaris' dramatic plight to quit smoking. And by "dramatic plight", I mean "less interesting than watching Nicorette commercials for the equivalent time it took to read this story." REALLY. I was even trying to quit smoking myself when I read this and it did nothing for me aside from a few chuckles and wondering what the ultimate point of this recap was (Spoiler - the only point of the story appears to be an 83 page vehicle for incorporating the book's title). If you're a fan and a completist, get it and read it - it probably won't hurt you. If you're unfamiliar, go get Me Talk Pretty One Day or Barrel Fever instead. Lazy effort.

*C+ [David Sedaris is still good, but this book was disappointing. The low score is because I expect better out of him]

The Host by Stephanie Meyer

-Yes, that Stephanie Meyer of Twilight fame. Honestly, this was good. I grudgingly admit that I read the Twilight series but (1.) I read everything and read it quickly so putting back this newly infamous series wasn't an enormous effort and (2.) my reading list isn't restricted to Twilight and Harry Potter as is the case for a great deal of my (hated) peers. Anyhoo, the Twilight series is pretty damn bad (save for the last book, which is balls out insanity in an amusing way) and Stephanie Meyer is not a talented writer. Mostly, she's a lazy writer as is further evidenced in The Host, a near-future sci-fi tale of the takeover, bodysnatcher-style, of the human population by a race of peaceful, moral alien creatures. Save for an occasional, poorly elucidated medical procedure and the use of the term "cryo-tanks" to describe something that is not related to cryogenics, there is no science in this science fiction. Not that all science fiction writers must be scientists in their own right, but most will bother to do some research to elaborate on their fictions effectively. Meyer has not bothered and it's obvious. As with her other works, Meyer opts to flesh out her stories with endless and redundant emotional content. However, this crutch works better here as she examines the moral quanderies the main alien parasite is facing by stealing the bodies of humans and what happens when the host consciousness communicates and influences the alien intruder. It's compelling, if not particularly sophisticated, and miles away from the outstanding stupidity and weepy, teenage melancholy of the spakly vampire crap.

*B [I'd call this a 'beach read' if that term didn't imply icky romance novels. Less brain-rotting than television]

FOOD REVIEWS

Enjuku Green Onion Miso

- I don't like sushi (don't worry, I'm still bourgie and arrogant) so the only thing I'm enthusiastic about in Japanese cuisine is edamame and miso soup. Since that isn't much impetus for actually visiting a restaurant, I like to prepare these two simple dishes at home. I've never seen it at the major chain supermarkets, but you can get miso soup mix at every asian grocery that I've ever been to. Most recently, I got the Enjuku brand miso soup mix at the big asian (Vietnamese?) grocery store in the strip mall just north of Lawrence on Broadway. They have all sorts of weird looking things that seem like a good idea to buy and ponder as well as lovely and reasonably priced kitchenware. I would not recommend the frozen foods or fish section for those faint of heart or stomach. Typically, miso mix includes a packet of miso paste and a packet of garnish - usually a combination of freeze dried tofu, green onions and seaweed. I HATE TOFU SO FREAKING MUCH and I was delighted to find the Enjuku Green Onion variety that does away with the nasty nasty foul and disgusting tofu nuggets in favor of a lot more green onions. Encouraged, I gave it a whirl yesterday (mix packets with hot water, done) and my feelings are mixed. Miso broth: perfect, but pretty hard to screw up. Green onions: copious. Seaweed: aw, now here's where things have gone awry. Dried seaweed seems like an easy thing to get right but the 'weed in this soup was not as vibrantly green as I like and veering on slimy. All in all, I think I'll go back to picking the tofu nuggets out of the other brands but I'll still finish off this package.

*B [Good broth and onions, no vile tofu. Slimy seaweed]

Piece Pizza

-Wicker Park is stuffed to the gills with cutesy, punny-named establishments that are under the misapprehention that they are being oh-so-hopelessly clever. Piece, with it's modified peace sign logo, is no exception to this rule. But, while the vast majority of products to come out of these establishments are as unspecial and trite as their proprietors, Piece actually delivers. THIS IS THE BEST PIZZA IN CHICAGO. Anyone who knows me knows I love pizza. I am a gourmand in my own right, but I happily admit that pizza is my favorite food and I never get sick of it. I could eat pizza for every meal (although, for the sake of my waist line and GI tract, I don't) and I always order from Piece. If you are so unfortunate as to live outside their delivery area, you will have no choice but to visit the restaurant itself. Positives: they have a microbrewery onsite and the beer is terrific. Negatives: the service here is so unbelievably bad that the last 2 out of 3 times I've been in the restaurant resulted in free pizza because the servers screwed shit up so badly and the management is (not unpleasant but) worse than useless. Bad service anywhere usually results in a lifetime ban of said establishment - I have no patience and chances are good that I can get the same shit somewhere else where my patronage is more appreciated. Piece's New Haven-style pizza is so good that I will happily endure their braindead, hipster-loser staff to eat it. I advise artichoke hearts and extra cheese.

*A+ [It's like hope and prosperity spread on a thin crust and covered with cheese and rainbows]

UPCOMING EVIL EVENTS!

Baby Showers are Seriously Painful

- I have committed to going to my best friend's sister-in-law's babyshower because I am obviously a glutton for punishment. I like the sister-in-law in question; we're friendly but I wouldn't consider us friends. I'm also not entirely certain when this event is to take place but I've been assured that there will be booze. For the record: booze spiked punches do not count as actual booze in this situation as there isn't nearly enough alcohol in them for me to forget lamenting how I got talked into going to another fucking baby shower.

Easter? That's when we worship a bunny, yes?

- It appears that Easter is coming up this very Sunday, as I learned this morning. One would think a hellspawn like myself would rally against overtly Christian holidays, and rightly so, but I can't hate on an occasion that will undoubtedly result in my being presented with a festive basket full of colorful candy. Like many Christians, my religious affiliations are shallow and self-serving, so at least I'm in good company.

Wishing you all an evil tomorrow,

The Devil

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Fools!

2009-03-17T09:33:00.000-07:00

Before you ask: No, there is not a new Antichrist among us (or maybe there is). This is my delightfully evil little goddaughter, Mad Dog, showing her pride at the South Side Irish Parade on Sunday. See, it's not all hate and complaining about stupid people on this site. Sometimes there are cute babies, like my little chicken here. Now go have a drink!

Proper Irish stay home on St. Patrick's Day,
Jillian O'Devil

Let's Eat Some Things!

2009-03-13T13:12:00.000-07:00

Oh my word, can I fucking tell you people how sick I have been this week? It's been awful, I thought I was going to die. It was 3 solid days of fevers, hot and cold sweats, and a horrifying hacking cough that, after a full day of it, caused immense strain and subsequent shooting pain through all of my abdominal muscles. The cough and pain was so bad on Day 2 that I threw out a muscle in my back causing me to fall over and then crawl to my bed where I lay, nearly paralyzed, for about 9 hours. I know I'm being entirely too dramatic, but you just tell me you're any better when you're sick. I pride myself on not being crippled, so it's especially harsh when I find myself so.

In addition to all the joy above, I have had no appetite at all, subsisting on lemon lime soda and anger alone. And that's not a meal, folks.

Miraculously, my appetite has returned! I'm quite pleased and, obviously, hungry. Never one to be stingy with the good moods (or bad moods for that matter), here's a list!

THINGS THAT ARE GOOD TO EAT

I don't know about you but, personally, I like to eat food.

TAHINI

Tahini is sesame seed paste and it's in all sorts of things you love (by 'you', I mean 'me'), like hummus and jerusalem salad. Now, I know how folks do these days: nobody cooks anymore and you all live on packaged prepared foods (and by 'you', I mean 'you' cuz I don't pull that shit). Good for you, you're slowly stewing your organs in preservatives and chemical additives. Would it kill you to make something from scratch once in a while? No, it wouldn't.

If that's not enough incentive (in addition to the obvious notion that it would please me and curry favor with your lord Satan), packaged prepared foods are much more expensive and the economy sucks. Even if you aren't suffering financially, it's de rigeur to pretend you are anyway and act appropriately. See what I did there? You now have 4 good solid reasons to actually make some real food in your kitchen. To recap:

REASONS TO FUCKING COOK SOMETHING ALREADY
a.) You won't stew your organs in chemicals and preservatives (as much).
b.) It will please me and Satan
c.) It's cheaper
d.) These days, it's cool to appear frugal and you wouldn't want to be uncool, would you? No you wouldn't.

Gahh, what was I even talking about? Oh yeah: Tahini!
Now, granted, you can't find this everywhere but a jar of it will last you months and months and it doesn't cost much. At the very least, I'm sure you can get it at Asshole Central (aka Wholefoods) or order some online if you live in Nowhere.

So what do we do with it? How 'bout some hummus. Everybody loves hummus, it's the official food of the vegetarian nation.

HUMMUS!!

Tools:
can opener, blender (you can use a food processor, but who even has one of those except for newlyweds and they haven't even taken it out of the box.)

Ingredients:
16oz. can Chickpeas, drained
1/4 cup liquid from chickpeas
juice of one medium lemon (3-5 tbsps)
2 tbsps Tahini
2 cloves Garlic, minced or put through a garlic press
2 tbsps Olive oil
1 tsp Salt/ 1 tsp Pepper (or whatever to taste)

Method:
Put everything in blender. Blend. If it's too thick, add more chickpea juice.
I like to double or triple the recipe because it will keep in the fridge in a tupperware or jar for a few weeks.

Variations:
You can put anything in hummus, more or less. Most spices work well, canned artichokes, frozen spinach, canned red peppers, whatever you're into. My favorite is the basic hummus topped with diced cucumbers, tomatoes and red onion and a splash of vinaigrette. Alright, now I have to break for lunch, this post is killing me.

Okay, I'm back. That was some good hummus. Let's talk about more food!

This is a rant I like to call

WHY WHOLEFOODS CAN GO SUCK A DICK

I don't know if I've bitched about Wholefoods on this blog before. Probably, but I'm going to do it again anyway.

If it wasn't evident from the title, I do not like Wholefoods. I think the whole idea of Wholefoods is smug and annoying in effort to appeal to the smug and annoying among us. I know it's the thing to eat 'NATURAL' and 'ORGANIC' and to pay for the priviledge, but honestly folks - can't you even tell when you're being duped? Well obviously not if I have to go and tell your asses. Get your pretty little eyes and ears ready, because it's Jillian-dropping-some-super-science time:

NATURAL and ORGANIC are SUBJECTIVE terms. Did you get that? Do you know what it means?

NATURAL and ORGANIC are not government regulated. There are no penalties for lying about your product being NATURAL or ORGANIC. Since producing NATURAL and ORGANIC products is much more costly to the manufacturer, and the products labled as such generally sell for higher prices, do you think it is beneficial for a manufacturer to lie about their products being NATURAL or ORGANIC just to make a buck? I'm not going to answer that question for you, I just hope you're revelling in how dumb you've been. And please don't come back with "but I've seen things that say 'Certified Organic' and whatnot - don't say none of this is regulated." Sure, but who is it regulated by? These are still independent bodies, not government controls.

Still don't buy it? I'll give you, hands down, the most egregious use of NATURAL that I have witnessed. A few years ago, 7Up repackaged and remodelled to call it's product ALL NATURAL!! in all of its advertising. The second ingredient in 7Up, after water, is high-fructose corn syrup. High-fructose corn syrup is corn syrup that has been heated and treated in a lab to increase the sugar content per volume. High-fructose corn syrup does not occur anywhere in nature yet 7Up calls its product ALL NATURAL.

The point I'm getting to here is that Wholefoods is built on a bunch of bullshit and trends. People want organic and natural, but they don't have sense enough to know when their being taken for a ride. Hell, people don't even know why they want these things other than being told they want them.

So, why do you want to eat all organic?
"Because they have no pesticides"
Why don't you want pesticides?
"Because they're bad for you"
How exactly are they bad for you, provided you adequately clean your produce?
"Because they're harmful to your body"
Yes, but how exactly?
"Um, err, um, errr..."

What are the differences in your health when consuming regular produce versus organic? What studies have shown the benefit of organic produce? Do you even ask yourself these questions as you're paying 5 times the going rate for a tomato or do you just blindly follow trends? Wash your apple with dishsoap before you eat it and stop being so damn impressionable.

In addition to the fallacies they're built on, Wholefoods staff just makes me want to kill them. Not in a 'gahh, they make me so mad, I'm going to give them the side eye' kind of way, but the 'I want to grab them by the hair and bash their skulls against the wall until they crack open like melons' way. Seriously, they infuriate me.

On the few occasions I have been self-hating enough to pop into a Wholefoods for a few immediate necessities, I have walked out with even greater fury for Wholefoods as a Whole. A few stories, for the children:

I go into Asshole Central to buy a loaf of bread. I go in, get bread, go to the counter. It is not busy and there are a few manned registers with no line at all. I step up to one with a young man behind the counter. I stand there. I clear my throat. I say 'EXCUSE ME! MAY I PLEASE PURCHASE THIS BREAD'. This kid finally takes his eyes off of his FRESHMAN COLLEGE PHILOSOPHY BOOK (oh yes he did) and looks at me like I just walked in on him in the bathroom. Yes, I was loud. I am usually loud because I don't like to fucking repeat myself. I sure as shit do not like to be forced to be loud when some shitty collegiate cliche who is being paid to be there gives me fucking attitude for being expected to do the job for which he is being paid.

The jackass pauses for a beat, giving me the opportunity to both hate him more and shove the bread at him while saying 'RING THIS UP'. He does so in his most petulant fashion - because it's not like people at Wholefoods are paid to be nice to you - sets the bread in front of me and goes right back to reading his book. I say 'CAN YOU PUT THIS IN A BAG PLEASE?', whereupon jackass rolls his eyes at me and says "You didn't say you wanted a bag". Please let me note that all I had on me was a small handbag and it was raining outside. And I was buying bread. BREAD. RAIN. He bags, I mumble something along the lines of 'fucking idiot', he gives me a dirty look, I give him one back and smirk at his pretentious yet immature reading material, shake my head and vow never to shop at the AssFoods again. And I haven't.

You know, I start talking about food and it all devolves into how I hate people. Shocking, truly.

Let's talk about food again, something more cheerful. Like cupcakes. Mmmm, now I'm going to have to get a cupcake (geez, I'm so impressionable). And where does the devil go for sweets?

TIPSYCAKE

Of course, Tipsycake is in Humboldt Park, where all great things are, on California near Division. The buttercream icing here is the best I have ever had in my life and I've had a lot of icing. They also make something called Rugelach, which the Australian proprietess (Naomi, she has a funny accent) assures me is an Australian specialty. I say it doesn't sound Australian, but aside from kangarookoalabearFostersShrimponthebarbie, what does really? Yes, I'm a jerk but Naomi is a friend and friends make fun of other friends' heritages. It's just what's done.

Anyway, go there because it's the jam (baking pun!). They do wedding cakes and crazy 3D cakes too, tell them Jillian sent you and they'll treat you better than just some motherfucker off the street.

So I was going to write up a list of things that you can eat but I got hopelessly sidetracked as usual,

Jillian

I AM A COMMODITY! BUY ME!

2009-03-13T09:55:00.000-07:00

(sold AS-IS, 'is really annoying' will not be a sufficient reason for return)

See something new here on The Devil Page? No, I haven't changed my hair. Yes, I did lose weight, how nice of you to notice! It's the terrible-weeklong-flu diet combined with constant-hacking-cough to work the abs, but it's not what I was referring to.

There are ads here now!

It's hard times, folks, and we all need to make a little extra cheddar. CLICK ON THE ADS!!!

Really, click on them. Then come back and click on some more. It will only take you a second and it will make me very happy.

Now, please don't think I'm actually asking you to do something selfless. You know I'm smarter than that. Social altruism is all about self-interest and I am prepared to interest you into playing along with my money-making scheme here.

So how do we do this, eh? We could go on the honor system, but we've already mentioned how I'm not stupid. I suppose you could send me screen grabs of the ads you've clicked through, but that seems like a lot of effort. Oh well, honor system it is. As a caveat, I will say that, for those who may be inlcined to abuse said honor system, you'll get found out. I'm more clever than you can hope to be. If you mess with the bully, you will get the horns.

Now the fun stuff! You can earn Frequent Evil Points (TM) for every click on my page's ads. These FEPs (TM) can be redeemed for wonderful prizes!!!

"But what kind of wonderful prizes, Jillian?"

Oh, all sorts of stuff, as I have much to offer. Let's set up a schematic, which will seem entirely arbitrary because it is. Everything is, god is dead. Anyhoo:

10 Frequent Evil Points
Hmmmm, for 10 points, I will write a blog on the topic of your choice. Hell, I'll even write a blog about you if that's what you want. Don't think that's a great prize? It's ten fucking points, don't be so greedy.

20 Frequent Evil Points
I will send you a tiny plastic ninja in the mail. Then I will know where you live, ahahahahahaha! If tiny ninjas are not available, I will send you a tiny plastic chollo. Boriqua!

50 Frequent Evil Points
Oh god, I just heard the queerest fucking thing on TV. This bitch just said "I'm a singer/songwriter in a general laborers body." How nice for her: she's a fucking moron and an annoying, banal one at that. What was I saying? Oh yeah, prizes. For 50 points, I will send you a food item in the mail. It could be a delicious homemade cookie, it could be some Ramen noodle, part of the fun is that you won't know until it shows up. The only thing I can guarantee is that it will be vegetarian, because that's how devils roll. If you prefer to forage for your own foodstuffs, I will give you one of my award winning recipes (I gave them awards myself).

100 Frequent Evil Points
Should you manage this many click throughs from my page, I should be rolling in cash money yo. And I'm happy to spread the wealth - if you get 100, I will buy you a beer. Not everyone is so fortunate to live in Chicago so, should you reach this level of Jillian Devotion (TM), I will find someone in your locality to buy you a beer. Please don't find my claim dubious - I know lots of people who know lots of people. And satanism is a lot more popular than you might think.

Alrighty, folks, get clicking and start earning your fabulous prizes! If you have an idea for a more suitable prize, I will certainly take it into account if it's within reason.

Gotta go, time to conquer the world

J-Illa

Well damn, this thing is still here? Good thing I'm still awesome.

2009-03-13T08:26:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I KNOW. It's been a while.

"Why so long, Jillian? Don't you care about your faithful fans?"

No, I don't care. And I don't owe you an explanation. HOWEVER, seeing as I am a supremely generous and kind individual, I will share a little insight.

THE EVOLUTION OF THE BLOG, ahem, MEME

May I begin by saying it's verging on douchy to use the term 'meme', although the meaning suits my purpose in this case. It is definitely douchy to use the term 'douchy' or any of its incarnations. Now that were all super fucking cool and current, let me go on.
I started this blog because I am hopelessly narcissistic and I have no doubt that the world at large only needed the opportunity the hang on my every word. I also have a thing or two to say that may approach intelligent discourse and ORIGINAL THOUGHT. Also, I'm funny and the things I like are much cooler than the things you like. Basically, I have a lot to offer and, being supremely generous (see above), I shared.

I kept on with this little page, sharing my message of anti-lameness mostly to amuse myself. Oh, you're surprised? It's all about me and it will always be about me. If this is news, you haven't read my blog.
After a while, Blogging was all the rage. Everyone was doing it, lameness benchmarks like the Today Show started talking about how everyone's doing it, and then the various backlash articles started about how ridiculously self-indulgent and unnneccessary it all is, a product of the narcissistic/exhibitionist generation whatever.
Now, I admit that I didn't invent blogging (I just perfected it, ha!) but I was getting sick of the oversaturation of sub-standard blogging. Most people are stupid and boring and shouldn't be sharing their opinions. Elitist? YES and so what. I've read that 80% of people believe they are above average intelligence. Even worse, most people I mention that statistic to don't see the logical failing of it. Frightening. Anyhoo, what I'm saying is that the market became full of garbage and I got bored of it.
And now I'm bored from that explanation.

[DIGRESSION ON THE DUMBASS TODAY SHOW

The Today Show is so goddamn stupid. There really isn't any other way to put it. Kathie Lee Gifford is on it - I don't really need to say more. But I will. No, I do not typically watch this show, it's probably been ten years since I gave it any regard. I've been sick all week and understandably sedentary and brain-addled, leading to my viewing of the show this morning.

Brace yourself, because what I'm about to write will make you scratch your eyes out. Braced? Good, here goes:
There was a segment on the show today featuring not one but TWO DOCTORS. The doctors were there to discuss how you can tell the difference between....(deep breath)....having the flu and having a heart attack! REALLY. Really really really, no joke, this is what they were talking about. Do you know how to tell the difference between the two?
OF COURSE YOU DO! WHO WOULD FUCKING CONFUSE HAVING THE FLU WITH IMPENDING CARDIAC ARREST?!?!? Oh yes, the braintrusts that watch the Today Show must have this problem all the time. Good thing Kathie Lee is there to help.]

So, I explained why I stopped, but why am I starting again? To put it quickly and simply, my sister (the indefatigable Bridget) bothered my ass until I did. She also feeds my ego by telling me about others who have encountered my blog and 'GUSHED' about its greatness. That always works.

IT'S A FRESH NEW YEAR, LET'S HAVE SOME BLOG GUIDELINES AND GENERAL NOTES

1.) Leave comments. I like it, The dark lord likes it, and it will result in feeding orphans in Africa. Of course, by 'orphans in Africa', I mean 'my ego'.

2.) Sure, you may disagree with me from time to time. Go nuts. But please be forwarned that, should you choose to share your discontent with me in a less than deferential fashion, I will subject you to public scorn. It's not that I can't take criticism, I just don't want to hear you bitch.

3.) If you are a screenwriter or know someone who is a screenwriter, let me know STAT. We all know the, um, ISSUES a certain E. Murphy has been having in recent years and the only way to save this national cinematic treasure is to get The Golden Child II in production as soon as possible. I can write (obviously) but I don't know the first thing about scripting. No, this is not a joke.

4.) If you have questions for me, the glorious J. T. Devil, or ideas for blog topics or something else of value to share, email me at jillianthedevil@hotmail.com.
THINGS THAT ARE NOT OF VALUE: links to your websites, any sort of advertisement, telling me I'm 'not all that'. Of course I am, so don't mess.

In any case, I'm back. Go slaughter a goat in thanks.

Jillian the Devil

Giving Thanks for Me Day!

2007-11-21T13:09:00.000-08:00

Hey bitches, Happy Thanksgiving! Or, as my fans refer to it, "Giving thanks for Jillian Day". No, this isn't just more of my usual narcissism. The glorious day of my birth falls on Thanksgiving every 7 years and, although my birthday is Sunday this year, a permanent name change for the holiday is still fitting.

So this year, while you're gorging yourself with the bounty of the season, I want you to think about me and give thanks for all the entertainment I provide to brighten your pathetic lives. When your corniest relative suggests you all go around the table to say what you're most thankful for this year, say "Jillian the Devil!" Then whip out your laptop and share my antics with the whole family.

To further reiterate how much I mean to you, here is a recent tidbit from my ridiculous life. A little story I like to call:

Jillian Gay-Bashes a Stranger

A few weeks ago, I was in Lakeview near where one of my friends lives. I saw this guy across the street, sort of from the back and the side, and I was certain it was Dave. So I yell "Dave!" a few times, and he doesn't turn around. I figured he just didn't hear me but the resemblance (from my vantage) was uncanny, so I crossed the street to chat with him.

Now, Dave is one of those gays, so I thought it would be funny to go up behind him, punch him in the shoulder and yell "Hey faggot!!". Well, it wasn't Dave. I gay-bashed a complete stranger. The guy looked shocked, I probably did too, and I proceeded to apologize profusely while attempting to be charming.

Any reasonable hetero would take this as a convenient opportunity to chat up a pretty girl or, at the least, laugh it off and go on with his day. After I explained why exactly I had gone up to ANYONE and hit them whilst yelling "hey faggot", this guy wailed at me "You think I look gay?!?" I was shocked and tried my hardest to fumble out an explanation along the lines of "I thought you looked like my friend, who is gay. But he doesn't look gay, everybody says so, he actually looks very manly...". There was far more rambling than that, but all of it was completely INEFFECTIVE. He looked like he wanted to kill me, reiterated how he is not gay several more times, turned on a heel and huffed away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk feeling like the biggest asshole ever.

I related this story to Dave and, after nearly hyperventilating from laughter, he said "that guy was definitely gay".

Have a great holiday, everybody!

Also, for you wacky characters planning on some marathon drinking tonight, please be careful and do not drink and drive. Aside from the swarms of police on the road and traffic checkpoints, it's extremely dangerous. Not for the drunk asshole driving typically - alcohol relaxes muscles and reaction times, so the lushes usually walk away with minimal damage from a crash. It's other people who get hurt, so don't fucking do it. If I find out you have, I'll be forced to give you a stern talking to. Of course, by "stern talking to", I mean I'll break your kneecaps.

Email me at jillianthedevil@hotmail.com to find out where to send birthday gifts,

Jillian!

My Favorite Holiday

2007-10-26T08:22:00.000-07:00

I'm sure it will come as no surprise that Halloween is, hands down, my favorite holiday of the year. I love costumes and candy, what could possibly be better? NOTHING, that's what.

My hot bitch, David, is throwing a Halloween fete this year. I usually do so myself, but with all the prep required to throw a proper themed party....ack, it's a lot of work. Plus, I have new exciting prosthetics to apply this year, and I'm always in the bathroom trying to get my horns right as guests are arriving. Naturally, I'm going as the devil. Yes, I go as the devil every year - it's only right - but I switch it up. And my take on the theme is pretty fucking good.

Last year, I had several parties to attend and I did both Green Devil and Purple Devil, with the new super-size horns. Of course, as many of you witnessed, the super-size horns were not without their problems. I only have so much forehead (I'm not Tyra Banks here) and the gluing/putty process took off a good 1/4 inch off my right eyebrow. It grew back, but I'm aiming to keep my eyebrows intact this year as well as any hair on the side of my head when I apply the very exciting evil pointy ears. Keep your fingers crossed for my success in this endeavor.

Anyhoo, young David is adorable and quaint. So much so that he is scheduling all sorts of amusing activities for his drunk and ridiculous friends. There will be a costume contest, apple bobbing, and a pumpkin carving contest. Our friends are all both highly creative and amazingly offensive, so I think my chances of winning the costume contest are pretty slim. My facial prosthetics probably won't hold up well to apple bobbing, not to mention hair and makeup, so that's out. which leaves us with....pumpkin carving.

David was over last night, having a few beers and watching Sanford and Son on my sofa. We got to chatting about party preparation and I mentioned a few photos I had emailed him, one of which happened to be a pumpkin bong. Much giggling ensued and Dave said that if I manage to make a successful bong out of a pumpkin for the contest, I will totally win. Unfair advantage? Yes, but I don't care. I want to win, and if this is what it takes, so be it.

A little digression on the practice of making homemade bongs

If you've been to college, you know that bongs can be made out of nearly anything. Not that there is a class taught on such things, it's just a typical proclivity for college kids to imagine such possibilities. I consider this a reasonable creative endeavor; it integrates engineering and critical problem-solving techniques, makes you use your noodle. Then you smoke the reefer and kill all those brain cells you were using in the first place. In college, we made bongs out of apples, plastic bottles, a carefully drilled glass jar, and various plastic toys. The only thing I found that you couldn't make a bong out of what grey stoneware, as the bong I sculpted in Ceramics class was tossed in the garbage before firing (haters! I certainly hadn't expected that in an art class, and the whole ceramics operation was run from a hallowed out IHOP across the street from the campus proper).

My point is that it can definitely be done, but how to do it? I admit: it's been a while since I took on a project of this sort. The internet is a good place to start and, wouldn't ya know, there are 245,000 hits when you use "pumpkin bong" as a search term. Huh. Honestly, I hadn't expected that. Those college kids have been busy, but their declining GPAs will result in my taking home the pumpkin carving title. So kudos to them, and I need to go rifle through the basement for parts.

So, my funky little monkeys, I wish you an evil Halloween. And if you want to make a pumpkin "water pipe" of your very own, here ya go:
http://www.instructables.com/file/F73DJOMF82EXLAT/

Don't say I never did nothin' for you.

Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet!
Jillian the Devil

What's for dinner? A lamb of God.

2007-10-17T14:15:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I like to aggravate people just for aggravation's sake. And by people, I mean Christians.

Please don't misinterpret me on this point, I have nothing against Christians other than they seem to take every opportunity to annoy the shit out of me. I'm speaking, naturally, of their tendency to live in a vacuum and be outrageously offensive to people of any other religion. They also have trouble taking a joke and they absolutely shit themselves should you dare speak against Christianity. Basically, they're asking for it and far be it for me to deny them.

I also hate chain letters. Seriously folks, is it 1998? I'll answer that for you: it is not 1998, so knock it off with the chain letters. So I got a fucking CHRISTIAN CHAIN LETTER yesterday from a friend of mine, which I merely ignored because she is a friend and my annoyance threshhold for friends is much higher than for the general public. THEN, one of her friends sent me the same damn Christian motherfucking chain letter back. It was necessary to take action.

Here's the original (annotated) chain letter:

Hi - I am picking 11 people who have touched my life and who I think
would want to receive this. Please send it back to me (You'll see why).

In case you are not aware, Saint Theresa is known as the Saint of the Little Ways, meaning she believed in doing the little things in life well and with great love.
She is represented by roses. May everyone who receives this message be blessed.

Theresa's Prayer cannot be deleted.
REMEMBER to make a wish before you read the prayer . That's all you have to do.
There is nothing attached. Just share this with people and see what happens on the fourth day.
Sorry you have to forward the message, but try not to break this, please.
Prayer is one of the best free gifts we receive. Read the prayer below. &nb sp;

Saint Theresa's Prayer

May today there be peace within.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones,

and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

It is there for each and every one of us.

Now, send this to 11 people within the next 5 minutes. And remember to send this back. I count as 1...you'll see why.

Fucking disgusting, right? There was also a picture of Mother Theresa and the old Pope, just in case I was annoyed enough with the text. Additionally, how fucking trite is it to send a damn Christian chain letter addressed to someone who has touched your life and you think would want to receive this to a stranger. Additionally, it's a chain letter and no one ever wants to receive that shit, Christian or not. Considering, I didn't feel to bad baiting this particular Christian for my own amusement. Yeah, I'm a dick, but I've been saying that all along.

My response:

Hey Jackass (also known as "Timothy Biars"),

I don't know you and you don't know me, but allow me to make something entirely clear: I am not a nice person. I can only assume that you copied my email address from the original chain letter that Erica forwarded me, so you could then forward it along to however many people so the pope or Mother Theresa could grant your 3 wishes - or whatever it is that you Christian imbeciles are believing in this week. I am not a Christian and I'm highly offended by you motherfuckers hurling your ridiculous god-jesus-pope bullshit in my direction. I tolerate this crap from Erica because we're long time friends and I'm rather fond of the girl. That is not your case, however. I can only imagine you didn't expect such vitriol in response, but alas:

Fuck the Pope
Fuck Mother Theresa
Fuck Impressionable Idiots that send chain letters
Fuck Christians
And Fuck you.

With the utmost sincerity,
Jillian

P.S. I hope you don't plan to breed.

And then I eagerly awaited the bile-filled tirade from my new Christian buddy. It's absolutely brilliant how out of sorts Christians get when anyone chances to attack their chosen beliefs, even in such an admittedly lame fashion. Fuck the Pope? Really, you Christians are too damn easy. Unfortunately, a good many Christians didn't pay enough attention in elementary school and it's evidenced in their debate tactics (and grammar and spelling, eek!).

Tim's rebuttal:

1st of all whoa.......it was an accident 2ndly...and for the record you do know me! i am sure you dont remember how me my friend mike and erica all hung out with you...

lastly...fuck you?

real mature of you...what should any one expect anything less from a god less heathen who needs saving...a simple no thank you would have been suffice...i dont expect any thing less from a blabby two ton chunk ass like you...no one forced there beliefs on you...just simply wished you well...wich seems like you dont want...and you are more than likely not happy and take a nice thought... even though unintentional and tell a person fuck off...so if this is your way of having fun...fuck off back at ya tank ass...lol

so you tolerate your friends huh? you put up with them rather than accept them as who they are...guess its to be expected from someone who is used to feeling insecure...guess your friendships must be really great ya douch bag. well...i may be christian...but your fat and ugly...lol...thats something no one can change...not even god...mother teresa...the pope or liposuction facelifts tummy tucks and tons of money...none of that can help your sorry ass...normally i laugh at things like this and carry on...but you are special...special in a mild retarded...fat...smelly and ugly kind of special that requires special attention in these matters...i'm sure you get your jollies from crap like this so feel free to email away in between stuffing your fat face tank ass...

so the next time you decide to mouth off to someone who knows you and you are to stupid to remember...just remember this converstation...wait...i cant expect that from a IDIOT! i am sure most of your life is a blurr...to busy being stupid to apprecieate the beauty of life and what it has to offer...like faith...good eating habits and style...OH and most importantly...you have no class fat ass...so the next time your fat ass steps on the scale of life it will read...to be continued...lol

you stupid cunt...enjoy...you chunky fat bag of nasty...feel free to email me when you get desparate for attention...wich should be the rest of you life...

oh and "alas"

"if fat and ugly was a sin you would go straight to hell"

p.s. Jesus loves you...but i think your're a cunt ^__^

Personally, my favorite part is "blabby". I don't think I've ever heard that before.

I could go into a rant about what ignorant degenerates Christians are, but that's too easy yet. I think it would be much more fun to get a little Pop Psychology 101 on young Tim's eomtional and highly personal tirade. Here you go, I call this one

Tim Biar's Brain in a Jar

1.) Young Tim feels he doesn't receive as much attention and esteem as he deserves, as evidenced by the first section. He makes a point of mentioning that I do, in fact, know him and that we used to hang out. Still don't remember the guy, but he obviously feels slighted by being forgotten and it colors the rest of his letter.

2.) Tim is also quite an insecure individual, as he chooses to mention a few particular qualities: weight, attractiveness, intelligence, and attention-seeking. Now if you know me, you know I'm not insecure. Quite the opposite as many people I know will, no doubt, be happy to mention. So who's insecurities is he aiming at? His own, of course. As people are wont to do, he believes that the things that bother him also bother everyone else. He's got me pegged on the attention-seeking, but it's something I indulge rather than feel bad about. Of course, no one with eyes would call me fat or unattractive, and I hope my flair for the written word is evidence of my intelligence. So who's the dumb, ugly fatty?

I didn't alter anything he wrote in the letter above, so you can tell we're not dealing with a brain trust here. What is the deal with the etcetera marks in between a million sentence fragments? Good grief, coupled with the spelling issues, this is about 4th grade level reading and composition skills. Ouch.

Additionally, I spent a big 2 minutes researching our friend Tim here, and I managed to pull up some photos. Ahem....somebody is a little Fatthew, if you know what I'm saying. And frankly, the looks are not there. They just aren't. It's just plain jerky to make fun of someone's weight (yes, even a bit too jerky for me), so I resisted the impulse to write back "Hey idiot, you are the last damn person to be taking anyone's weight to task". And people can't help if they're ugly, but that's not a big deal if the personality is good. Unfortunately for Tim...

After reading the letter, mostly I just felt a lot of pity. I know I'll probably hear back from a few people about how this boy is being really hateful to women in addition to being another person giving Christianity a bad name. It's a dumb, unattractive, pudgy and exceptionally bitter guy -- and even I draw the line at kicking people when they're down.

So I let him in on the joke that was only ever funny to me in the first place:

Ha! That kicked ass, thanks. This is going on my blog, google yourself later.

I must admit that was I baiting you intentionally and, no, I don't remember you (although I can't say I'm disappointed about that). I'd say something to aggravate you further, but you've obviously got enough problems. And for the love of everything you claim to believe in, work on the grammar and spelling - it's appalling.

Godless Heathen

As you can see, it's not actually a nice response. However, it's a lot better than he deserved, considering, and I can indulge in a bit of that self-righteousness the Christians are so fond of. Now, what would you do in this case? I's honestly be a little pissed that I was made to be the butt of a joke and that my ignorance would be placed in a forum for public ridicule, as I told him I planned to do. What did he do?

He backpedaled like he was about to bike off a damn cliff:

okay okay...lol...i have to admit your response was really more funny than agravating...however my comments were harsh and to that affect i would like to apologize and say i was wrong for responding like that. again i apologize for saying those things...i thought it was funny at the time but i realize that was just as childish...

and for the record my english is appalling...lol...good god ( and the devil in your case...j/k) i cant spell or put together a gramitical sentence to save my life...

any way...ha... i cant get this stupid smirk off my face...thanks for taking the mundane out of my day and the kick in the balls from life is painfull... but funny to watch... so jillian the devil as i recall our first conversation it was of debate and disgust in each others jokes wich made it even funnier...it looks like some people are who they are no matter what...in a good way i mean.

well next time you need to shit talk...talk trash or just fuck with some one....remember me please...it may seem sadistic but i think its great...it really was the funniest thing i read or heard all week..ha... this was so funny. hope nothing was taken personal and if it was...you probally have issues....j/k...or am i?

-repenting bastard

And he apologizes. That just kills me. My powers of evil coercion shock me sometimes.

Right now the score is Jesus - 0, Jillian - 1

It's Osso Bucco on the menu tonight,
The Devil

[UPDATE: It's come to my attention that googling my churchy buddy's name doesn't pull this post up. Dammit, that takes the fun out of it. So here goes - Tim Biars Timothy Biars T. Biars. that should do it. Carry on.]

Who doesn't smoke crack every once in a while?

2007-10-16T11:42:00.000-07:00

On occasion, I do take requests for blog topics. This is one such request:

THE PROBLEM WITH DATING, YOUNG MEN, SOCIETY, AND TECHNOLOGY

Granted, that's a pretty darn broad subject, but I do have a point here. Bear with me, there are some good stories thrown in as well. To begin:

I was chatting with my sister yesterday about our most recent dating foibles, and an important point came up. What the fuck is the deal with young men these days and their insane sense of entitlement? My sister and I are both lovely ladies with good brains and personality, and any man should be so fortunate as to receive our attentions. Why is it then that every fucking goon that takes a liking to us is shocked and appalled if we don't share the sentiment?

"But I like you so much!! Why shouldn't you just like me in turn because I want you?"

STORY TIME

So the sister goes out with this guy she met online (I know, I know, and I tried to tell her - but where do you meet people anyway?). I wouldn't want to embarrass anyone terribly here (ha!), so we'll call him Fatthew. He seems to have a decent personality and at least a few brain cells to rub together. On the other hand, he's weighing in at over 300 lbs. and he still lives with his exgirlfriend. Widget (also an alias) is not a shallow sort, so she can overlook a weight problem or some inconvenient living arrangements provided the personality and chemistry are there and dude isn't some raging psycho/racist/drug addict/basketcase. They go out.

Widget is lukewarm about the guy after the date, but considers seeing him again. She then leaves for a 4 day business trip and returns home to be completely mortified. This nutheap, who she went on one date with and hadn't spoken to since, managed to invent an entire relationship in her absence. Widget was out of town and roaming charges applied, so she missed his handful of phone calls over the weekend. His response, in email form, was thus:

[Widget],

First I wanted to thank you for such a nice evening last Friday. I feel bad that I made you drive so far, but hopefully your delicious dinner, and exhilarating company, made up for it in some manner. I was very nervous before we first met, but all of that disappeared after we began talking. You made quite an impression on me, I must say. You are so beautiful and extremely interesting. I really enjoyed listening to your stories and I hope I didn't bore you too much with mine. We share so many of the same interests and we also share a common past, which is so great! I have to be honest, that night I couldn't sleep at all, I was so "jazzed" about you, about everything! It felt wonderful. I told myself on Saturday that I should play it cool, and wait a few days to call you, but I really wanted to see you again, as soon as it was possible. I am sorry if my phone call bothered you. Then I made things even worse calling you on Sunday morning, I have to apologize for that, I had no intention of waking you up. I waited patiently to call you again Wednesday, I had to leave a message. You never called back and I tried again this afternoon. At this point I am pretty confident that you will never call me back. I am hurt and sad, to be honest. I don't want to say that my heart is broken, I hate cliches, but I can't think of a better way to describe how I feel. I thought that we had some sort of connection, was I wrong? Did I do something to change your feelings? Was the whole date a deception? I would really appreciate some honest answers, I feel like shit. I wish you only the best in life, [Widget]. I am a pretty nice guy. Please send some word, it's only right.

Best.

[Fatthew]

Uh, 'scuse me? "It's only right"? You've got to be fucking kidding me. I'm going to say this now and it applies for eternity:

The only thing I have to do in my life is stay black and die. Everything else is optional.

That goes for me, for you, and for everybody else. So don't tell me or anyone else what to do, motherfucker. Awwwwww, whiny boy, do you need CLOSURE? Fuck your closure and fuck you. It's only right? Who gives a fuck, and fuck you again. Where did this shitbag get it in his head that Widget owes him anything? Hmmmm, let's examine -

HIS PARENTS
Chances are, this idiot was told all his life how special and unique and fantastic he was just for being him! Well, that's fucking sweet but it sure as hell didn't prepare him for reality.
"But my mom says I'm special on the inside!". Whatever.

ROMANTIC COMEDIES
Good grief, these have fucked up men worse than anything I can think of. The beauty eschews the conventional hunk for the awkward/ugly/fat/radioactive guy with the heart of gold. These pieces of tripe tell men that personality is everything, any guy can get the woman he desires if he just tries hard enough and loves hard enough. Additionally, in a lot of these vehicles, women are treated like commodities to be picked and chosen by men. Don't buy it? Watch a bit more critically next time. So much for this garbage being "chick flicks".

So what does that leave us with? Obese men who live with their exes feeling entitled to the affections of beautiful smart women because it's inner beauty that counts.
"So you won't date me because I'm fat? God, you are so shallow." Oh yeah? Shallow huh. So why aren't you lining up for the fat, ugly girls instead of trying to shame an attractive woman into dating you? Oh, no answer to that? Well, I thought so.

The second awful consequence of romantic comedies and the distorted image of women they show is THE GRAND GESTURE! Before I get to that, let's digress briefly on the evils of technology.

The information age has changed the tastes of society. It's quick and easy to get plenty of things via the technology we possess now, and this has fostered a generation of young people who demand everything right here and right now. This culture of instant gratification is pervasive and it's seeped into every avenue of society, including dating. I want it, I don't want to work for it, give it to me NOW.

So, the Grand Gesture. In the movies, if a lovestruck young jackass wants the affections of a lady, all he need do is perform some magnificent feat to get her attention and profess his love. Men aren't all that bright sometimes and bad with detail (oh come on), so they distill this concept into "If I do something she can't avoid noticing, she'll like me." This doesn't take into account the possible feelings of the lady in question and, coupled with the instant gratification problem young people have, the gestures tend to be somewhat un-grand. To wit:

STORY TIME

I know this silly young scamp. I met him through friends and never put much thought into him beyond that. One evening, my friends and I were getting tipsy and noisy at my place with the windows open when the young scamp happened by. His name is Matt, and he doesn't get an alias because he deserves every bit of ridicule he gets. He and his friend rang the buzzer and came up to hang with the crowd. We do a regular Wednesday party, and Matt joined us at my friends' place the next week, as well.

The day after I saw him, he sends me a text message saying "Do you think I'm sexy?"
That's an odd question so I responded with "Are you still drunk from last night?"
And then he goes for his GRAND GESTURE....

"Just to get it out of the way: I really want to fuck you."

Yeah, because that works. Hey, he did it just like he was taught by popular media. I just profess my affections and she will fall into my arms (or on my dick, as the case may be). God forbid he go to any effort at all to woo a woman when he could just say "hey, let's fuck" and do away with all of that silly effort! Matt, this one's for you:

An Open Letter to Matt the Silly Scamp

Honey,

I know you're young, but did you just roll off the turnip truck yesterday? Did you think that line would work? Really, did you think that would actually work? Have you met a woman before?

I know you were feeling inspired, and I have no doubt how inspirational I am. But there is a long tradition of men doing nearly everything in their power to gain the affections of women. Stories have been told of such things before the advent of the written word, for chrissakes. It's the nature of heterosexual relationships that men want it and women make them jump through hoops to give it up. There's a reason for this, and it's called WOMEN.

I'm sure you thought you were merely dispensing with all manner of nonsense with your BRILLIANT plan to just tell me you want to have sex with me, but guess what? I'm going to let you in on a little secret: I know you want to have sex with me. You didn't need to say anything at all, and this is true of most women and the men who admire them. Had you thought I would be so flattered that I would just throw my legs in the air and have at it? Daft, to say the least. If I went out on the street right now and asked 10 men if they wanted to have sex with me, I would get 10 enthusiastic yeses. Newsflash! This is true for just about any woman! Men are easy and horny, Matt. Thankfully, most men are also smarter than you. But you go on ahead and keep trying to reinvent that wheel.

Keep it in your pants, idiot
Jillian

Man, this post is getting off topic and starting to drag on a bit. The point I was trying to make was that young men are fucking ridiculous these days, making it awfully hard on young hetero women looking for love. Here's a quick list of other shit hetero guys shouldn't do:

WHAT NOT TO DO TO GET WOMEN

1.) BE METROSEXUAL
So you look like a fag but you like to bone ladies? Hell, I love the heck out of some fags, but I certainly don't date them (ahem, usually). I'm a straight woman, I date men. Did you hear that? MEN. Hairy, not-all-about-fashion manly-men. So act like a fucking man already. It's only fun for you to use moisturizer and hair products when I make you do it.

2.) BE SENSITIVE
Don't get me wrong, I don't dig assholes. I also don't dig guys who are motherfucking little girls on the inside. Being kind and compassionate is great, but demanding we talk about feelings is not cool. Talking about feelings is like kryptonite for Jillian in relationships. And do not, for any reason ever ever ever ever cry. Once more, DO NOT CRY! Do what you want in private and away from me, but do not cry in front of a woman unless it's out of overwhelming joy (wedding, birth of a child, etc.). If I wanted to date someone who acted like a damn chick, I would date chicks. Alas, that is not the case.

3.) CONSIDER WORKING OUT TO BE YOUR HOBBY
Working out is something you do to be healthy, not because it's particularly fun or interesting in the least. It's healthy to have regular bowel movements, but do you see me telling people about my stool? No, you do not! Why? Because nobody wants to fucking hear about it, much like anything to do with your workout regimen. Now go collect stamps or something.

4.) SMOKE CRACK
I thought I was the only one who had this problem with men, but it appears as though Widget has had a similar experience. Her date went as far as to actually light up the crack pipe with some of his buddies in front of her. Yikes.

MY CRACKHEAD STORY

I decided to give internet dating another shot, despite only have met freaks in the past. What can I say? I was either too stupid to learn my lesson or full of bright sparkly hope for mankind. Anyhoo, I met this guy named Jay and he seemed to be quite bright and interesting. He was a writer and we had similar interests, and his picture was pretty cute. We met for drinks and he was halfway decent company, despite drinking to a substantial excess. Considering how much I enjoy drinking, that's saying quite a lot. Oh well, maybe he was just nervous.

Jay suggested we go meet some friends of his at another bar and I went along with it. I'm hateful but strangely friendly. On the way there, Jay mentions that his one friend (who we'll call Rocky because I can't remember his name) smokes crack. I'm astounded because, really, who does that? That's fucked up. I'm cracking up (pun!) at this revelation when Jay lets it slide that he, too, smokes crack occasionally. And then he utters the immortal line:

"Who doesn't smoke crack every once in a while?"

My response, naturally, was "Uhh, me and everyone I know. That's who". We met up with his friends, who happily exclaimed after a taste of my company "We like Jillian way better than you, Jay!" Then later, Rocky asked me out right in front of Jay, creating awkwardness for everyone assembled. Crack must act on those "good manners" portions of the brain.

Ugh, that's enough of this. I'm making myself depressed.

If anyone happens to know some good-looking straight single men with some decent brainpower out there, send them my way please. I'm very cute, I have a great rack, my spelling is fantastic, and I love action movies. Get to work, minions.

[Shaking head despondently],
The Devil

Feed my ego, bitches!

2007-10-16T11:34:00.000-07:00

What the hell do you think this page is for anyway? So leave me comments and leave them frequently. They don't have to be nice, you know I don't care much for civility.

As an extra incentive, I'll run a contest. The best comment of the week gets a prize....hold on, I'm looking around HQ....aha! The prize this week is going to be your choice of a delightful green gourd (about the size of a football, if footballs were gourd shaped) or a selection of novels (cuz you know your ass should read more). See, it's not all about me. Okay, that's a lie. Comment!

J-Killa

Two things that are great

2007-10-03T13:38:00.001-07:00

It's not always about evil. Here's two things to make your day a little cheerier:

1.) I was walking down ol' Paseo Boriqua today and just east of California on the north side of the street was a scraggly, skinny tree. The lowest branches were about 8 feet up and throughout were scattered plastic action figures. I noted two different Supermans (Supermen?), what appeared to be a dollar-store version Batman, and a Captain America-looking guy with a parachute tangled in the branches. It was truly glorious.

2.) This quote-

"if Flavor Flav stands for anything -- besides Vikings, zealous timekeeping, and shiny teeth -- it is clearly the importance of being honest about one's boob-to-waist-to-booty ratio"

Ha! Flav rules.

Cheer the fuck up, it's a beautiful day

J-illin'

Anna Wintour can go suck a dick

2007-09-24T14:25:00.000-07:00

I'm tempted not to tell you all where these photos came from. It would probably be more amusing to just throw them at you and let you ponder.

Does Jillian have a new line coming out? Are these propaganda shots from some avant-garde satanic cult looking to recruit? Centerfolds from Devil Worship Weekly?

No, none of those.

Before I reveal my sources, let's take a closer look:

The goat for the slaughter -
While the cross painted (auspiciously) in blood on the goat's forehead should be inverted, I still have to give props for the bloody images this photo inspires. Goat sacrifice. One more time, GOAT SACRIFICE. Please keep that in mind when I tell you where this spread is from.

The eyes -
The look on the girl's face in the second photo will seriously give me nightmares for a month. That's some fucked up shit, and I'm usually the scariest thing around here.

So where did these photos come from? Who has answered the call of the Dark Lord?

Why, French Vogue, of course.

Eat it, Anna Wintour

J-Devil

I'd say I am going to be America's Next Top Model...

2007-09-19T07:27:00.000-07:00

But I wouldn't want to limit myself. I'm international, bitches.

Oh yes indeed, that magical day has arrived. Tonight, Tyra Banks will introduce the world to her evil cult's Class of '07, systematically destroy their self-esteems, and remake them in her image. I love that shit.

Although I'm not the first to say it, you may not have heard this particular theory yet. Brace yourself, here it comes:

America's Next Top Model is a picture perfect example of cult indoctrination practices.

"What? Jillian, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard"

Hey, it's totally true. And don't call me stupid, you know I'll stab a bitch. There have been a number of esteemed papers published by actual science types on this very subject. If you're unfamiliar with the show, let's take a look at their set up:

- First off, the shows deals with the modeling industry which is notorious for fostering poor body images, unattainable physical ideals through the magic of Photoshop, major eating disorders, and drug addiction. So, basically hating yourself and lies. Much like Christian theology, it's an excellent place to start your cult.

- A handful of girls are picked out based on dubious criteria, segregated from society, and forced to live together in a secret compound.

- Cult members...uh, I mean contestants are allowed to speak to their loved ones on the phone, but only under the watchful eyes of the video cameras.

That's just the basics, there's more:

THE RELIGION
One might be tempted to say the "religion" of the show is fashion, but that's way off the mark. There's actually very little concern with fashion, aside from the obscure designers paraded past the girls on a regular basis and the fact that they tend to wear clothes. The religion is MODELING, as if modeling was some lofty goal akin to earning a Phd in astrophysics. While thinking people understand that modeling is a career that is mostly dependent on inborn physical traits, the cult tries to convince it's members that ANYONE can be a model if they would just do everything the evil cult leader tells them too. A baldfaced lie? Of course it is, but cults lie. That's why they're bad.

THE CARGO CULT TIE-IN

Allow me to school you briefly on the concept of cargo cults:
A cargo cult is a religious sect that requires, as part of it's main religious theory, that something will eventually be delivered to the religions adherents. This "cargo" will be supplied by the cult's deity in return for it's members devotion and compliance with cult doctrine. One shining example of a cargo cult is Christianity. And what are they waiting for, what is the divine cargo that the good little Christians will receive? The new messiah, of course.
The Catch-22 of cargo cults is that the eventual cargo arriving would render the religion itself obsolete. So, naturally, the cargo never arrives. Have the Christians gotten their new messiah yet? They keep predicting when this event will occur, and they keep being all sorts of wrong. No matter, they just adjust their theories and make lots of excuses for their errors and the cult persists in the same line of thinking (that lacks any sort of common sense, but alas).

THE CARGO
Well well well, the divine prize in America's Next Top Model is, of course, becoming America's next top model. The show would have you believe that these girls need only to beat out their immediate competition and they will be rocketed to incredible stardom, usurping any big names out there in the fashion world and dominating the industry. Granted, there is a concrete prize: a modeling contract with a drugstore make up brand and various commercial spots associated with the show. But for all the refrains of "High Fashion! High Fashion!" from crazy Tyra, where are all of these Top Models in the high fashion world?
The sad fact is that no one on this show has gone on to have any career as a high fashion model. They're not on runways, they aren't doing spreads in Vogue, and they don't have any associated ad campaigns with fashion labels. They do their term for Covergirl and they fade into obscurity. Yet, the show perseveres despite truly being a failure. What, haven't you been paying attention? That's exactly how cargo cults work.

THE CHARISMATIC CULT LEADER
No cult would be complete without the Charismatic Cult Leader: our very own Ms. Banks. As the focal point of the cult, the leader must be a true megalomaniac. She knows all, has seen it all, and is the only one who can tell you how to do it right.

First, the leader will tell you how you have it wrong. Your hair is bad, your clothes look like they came from the damn mall, you need to lose a few pounds, you walk funny, you look ugly in your pictures. This is especially rough for these girls to hear; these girls are so tall and pretty that they've spent their lives having people tell them nothing but how beautiful they are and how they should totally be models. To come into the arena they've dreamed about for years and be told they're hopelessly inadequate is absolutely crushing.

But, there's hope! All of their flaws can be fixed! And how is that possible? By doing everything the cult leader says. They get invariably drastic makeovers so they no longer look like themselves, they change their personal style, they move differently, and they are constantly impressed upon to live and breathe the transformation. ONE OF US, ONE OF US!! The girls that change themselves the most are the ones who receive the most positive feedback from the judging panel. And on that note...

THE JUDGING PANEL
Seriously, they don't even try to hide the cult overtones with this crap. Stand front and center before a collection of people who are better than you so they can tell you what you've done wrong. It's almost unheard of that a contestant will go before the judging panel and not receive any negative criticism. The photos are amazing, the girl is fantastic in person, and she's won every challenge in the competition....they'll find something bad to say anyway. Can't let these girls think they can't benefit from the cult's teachings, so this practice reinforces their dependence on Tyra and the show.

REASONS WHY TYRA BANKS IS SUPER EVIL

1.) Supposedly, these girls are all real tight with Tyra. On camera, she likes to play that she's everyone's bestest buddy and she really CARES about these young women. Uh huh. Every time Tyra appears, the girls immediately start shrieking and freaking out and shouting "Oh my God! It's Tyra! Tyra, Tyra, Tyra!". Do you do that every time you see your bestest buddy, or say, someone who has given you a leg up in your chosen career? Hell, no. No one acts that way, Tyra makes them do it. Because she's crazy.

2.) God forbid someone doesn't behave like a kicked dog, Tyra will scream her giant forehead off at them. Cult members are regularly berated for acting too friendly with the "higher ups": fashion designers, photographers, or the collection of obscure wierdos that make up Tyra's entourage. What is too friendly? Making polite jokes or speaking to them as though they were equals. Yes, they really do this.

3.) Tyra keeps an entourage of overly made up eunuchs who are all forced to answer to the name "Jay" (ex. Miss Jay and Jay Manuel). That is so bizarre it could only be in the context of a religious movement.

4.) The cult members must do everything that they are told. Case in point: Jay Manuel tells one model that she should be practicing her poses before her photo shoot, and the model replies (politely) that she's confident she's had enough practice. The girl does a fantastic job, takes great photos that are lauded by the judging panel. Regardless, the girl is still yelled at by Tyra for not having followed Jay's orders, even though they were an unnecessary demand. Because you do what you're told and don't think for yourself, automatons!

But the biggest issue is....

THEY TORTURE THESE GIRLS
-They make a point of casting based on personality as much as looks. Why do you think there are a few supremely bitchy girls with no social skills on every season? With their terrible attitudes, they would never stand a chance in an industry already oversaturated with tall skinny beautiful girls that keep their damn mouths shut. Yet they get put on the show anyway because they make for good drama. All these silly girls are forced to live together in close quarters and the mean girls make it unpleasant for everyone.

-The girls barely sleep. Not because they want to spend all their time partying; the show maintains an unreasonable schedule of events intending to make the contestants sleep deprived. You're far more likely to get sick if you are stressed and sleep-deprived, and they producers love when the girls get sick. Because they get to baby them and prove how kind they are? HELL NO. There hasn't been a season yet where some poor girl wasn't screamed at by Tyra and her minions for having the audacity to complain about illness. The girls are told that sick isn't an option, and they'll never survive in the business if they don't suck it up and get to work. Maybe for a little sniffle, but these girls are regularly taken away in ambulances for their various maladies.

-They speak and act in contradictions. All of you girls are living together, you should be acting like sisters! Now we're going to pit you all against eachother in various "challenges" and give fanatastic prizes to the winner. The winner also gets to choose a friend or two to enjoy the prize, so that the girls are forced into creating cliques amongst themselves and fostering jealously amongst the other contestants. Tyra and her minions all care about you, we're your good loving friends! Ha, just don't treat us like we're your friends or talk to us as you would to your friends or ever consider doing anything other than exactly what we tell you to. That's not how friends behave.
This seems rather transparent, but treating people this way over a period of time will eventually drive someone crazy. It creates paranoia and stress because the girls never know what kind of response they'll get due to the constant inconsistency of the cult's leadership. It also keeps the cult members from making their own decisions, as they are forced to constantly query the cult leaders for whatever the "right" answer or position will be that day. SNEAKY!

Well, that's my lunatic tirade for the day. I'll be hosting a party of my favorite ladies and homos this evening for the event. It starts at 7:00pm CST, and we'll be enjoying cheese, wine and the debasement of pretty girls. Make sure you don't miss it! If you do, I'm going to tell Tyra and don't think she won't show up at your place primed and ready for Chinese water torture.

You better work it girl,
Jillian

Hey Wonderwoman, take off your shirt!

2007-09-13T13:08:00.000-07:00

What was Jillian doing at 10:30 last night?

A.) Reading to the blind

B.) Throwing one of my regular weekday cocktail parties

C.) Stalking Lynda Carter in an alley under the el tracks

This story starts a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away...

Way back when I was freshman in college, I lived in a dorm at Loyola. Loyola is run by alarmist Catholic wackadoos, so the freshman dorms were designed as impenetrable fortresses to protect the virtue of the wee little freshman babies freshly imported from affluent suburbs from any evildoers lurking the streets of Roger's Park. And by 'evildoers', they meant black people (hey don't get pissed at me, they's the haters).

My dorm had several levels of security, the most consistent being the security desk by the dorm entrance. Of course, I didn't for a moment consider the possibility of actually following the dorm rules and regs, so I devised a plan to get in good with the security staff. Turned out, that wasn't too hard as most of the security was damn crazy and we all know how much crazy people enjoy me.

Dave calls me "The Patron Saint of Crackheads" [That's pretty little David in the picture]

One my first day at the dorms on my mission of good will, I met one regular security staffer. Dude (forgive me for not remembering his name, I drink) was late 30's, black, and pretty darn unhinged. I said hello and he immediately SHOUTS at me "HEY! YOU KNOW WHO YOU LOOK LIKE?! LYNDA CARTER!!" I was at the tender age of 17, so naturally I didn't know anything about anything - much less who the hell Lynda Carter was. He goes on: "YOU KNOW! WONDERWOMAN!" I thought this was a pretty rad assessment, so I thanked Dude and introduced myself.

The introduction was obviously a wasted effort since, for the remainder of the year I lived in that dorm, he would scream "WONDERWOMAN!" or "LYNDA CARTER!" at the top of his lungs every time he would see me. This seems charming and harmless, but it proved awkward to explain the situation to the surprised and puzzled crowd every time this nutball would pull this crap. At some point I mentioned this story to my friend Steve, which brings us to the events of last night...

LAST NIGHT

Steve calls me up as I'm chilling on the couch, enjoying a glass of spirited italian white and taking in some Family Guy. I had had a long day of meetings with vegan raw food afficionados (yes, really) and preparing marketing solutions, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity when Steve asked if I'd like to join him to see Lynda Carter do her cabaret act at a theater in Lincoln Park. He also mentioned that he thought of me because of the crazy story I had recounted to him so long ago.

I rushed to sass myself up for the event, opting for a simple black dress in a crisp microfiber. I added an extra wide turquoise belt with patent accents as a fashionable homage to the superhero we were planning to see. [I tried to get Steve to wear his famous padded Superman costume, but he pussied out. PUNK!]. Steve arrived and we headed out. The game was afoot!

I know I say this often, but I really am an asshole. Witness: We arrived at the theater, acquired some cocktails, and handed our tickets to the first usher. She was pleasant and chatty, making small talk with the patrons as they were entering. So I asked her if Lynda Carter planned to take her shirt off.

The performance was lovely, even if the material was a bit stale. At 27 years, I've heard everyone the world over do the jazz standards she was working. '50 Ways to Leave Your Lover' was an unexpected and engaging addition to the program and her take on 'Cry Me a River' was pitch perfect. Her signature tune is 'Always' but it was pretty flat. Who gives a fuck though? Wonderwoman could have been up there flinging feces at the crowd and speaking ill of our mothers, and everyone would have loved it. She's a fucking superhero, bitches, she can do whatever she wants.

The show wraps up, and Steve and I make our exit. The car was parked behind the building in the alley and Steve lamented that he had a 8x10 glossy of Wonderwoman and wouldn't it be cool if she would sign it? Steve also claims that he just so happens to have this picture and it was a gift from some unnamed person. I say: what a load of hooey! Steve, you totally got that off ebay and you sleep with it under your pillow every night, don't lie. Remember: I can smell your fear.

Conveniently, as we were sitting in Steve's vehicle (the vehicle is named 'Ironman', it's stenciled across the hood), the keyboard player from the band wandered past. We quickly formed a plan. I hailed the keyboard player from the car window and complimented his performance. He saw me and smiled, then saw Steve and nearly climbed into the car with us (just a little bit gay, ya think). We acted like we gave a shit about where he usually plays and then hit him up for the big money: where is Wonderwoman and how can we get her to sign Steve's picture. He gave us some bull about how she has guests in town and won't be signing anything tonight. Steve must have been making lewd gestures to the guy behind my back, because then he pointed out the stage door and said we could catch her coming out.

So what was I doing at 10:30 last night? Stalking Lynda Carter in an alley under the el tracks. We hung out for ten minutes or so, brainstorming ways to overpower her chaffeur and sneak into her car, effectively ambushing her and risking the wrath of her golden lasso. Finally she came out with her entourage and immediately got into her car. A few rabid fans manged to pass their merchandise for her to sign into the car via her manager, but Steve was left disappointed in a cloud of exhaust as her car pulled away. Oh Lynda, don't make me do it. Fuck, I can't help myself.

An Open Letter to Lynda Carter

Dear Lyndaboo,

We've been tight for quite some time but, as your good friend, I have to say a few things that you need to hear. We're not back in the early 80's anymore, when I used to stunt double for you and act as your personal decoy. I mentioned to a few people that I was catching your act last night, and the response was overwhelmingly "Who?" You keep that in mind, honey: Wonderwoman was done long ago. And television actors were never allowed to pull the diva crap.

I won't waste time by bashing your ratty looking extensions, but I will say it's obvious you've gotten a little too big for your britches. Considering the sausage casing you were wearing as a skirt last night, you'll soon be too big for all of your apparel. My friend and I were hanging out by the stage door after the show, just wanting to say hey. You came out, TOTALLY ACTED LIKE YOU DIDN'T KNOW ME AT ALL, condescended to sign a few autographs, and took off. Now let's be real clear here: there wasn't some giant crowd out there, all squealing for your attention. It was 6 people, tops. Yes, that's right, 6 motherfucking people and you couldn't find the time to sign my buddy's picture.

All I can say is that I hope you were rushing off to either a proper tailor (it defeats the purpose if you can actually see the control top granny panties through your clothes) or a vocal lesson. Everyone thought it was sweet that you sang "Always" for your husband, but you butchered that shit. Your tone-deaf renditions of Smiths tunes is the reason I ended our illegal gay marriage in the first place, so you better knock it off with the serenades if you want to hold on to this relationship. Watch it with the attitude, sister; arrogant and washed-up are not a good combination. And for chrissakes, put on some moisturizer.

He'll never love you like I love you,
Jillian

You're going to change, right?

2007-09-12T12:55:00.000-07:00

I know you've all been on the edge of your seats, bursting at the seems, and eager little beavers for my opinions on the events of last week. You don't have to tell me: you can't even leave your homes without some direction from me (and that's probably wise). With the drastic weather change over the last few days, the situation has become particularly dire and I hate to let my adherents down. Fret not, my pretty little ponies. Salvation is here!

I am speaking of fall fashion, of course.

New York Fashion Week wrapped up a few days ago, and I have culled the highlights from the sea of stupid ass garbage that was appearing on the runways. As we (the royal "we") are wont to do here at Evil HQ, I present to you a list! No, two lists! The best and the worst, get your notebooks ready...

BEST FALL TRENDS 2007

1.) Dresses

Yes, all the designers are still doing dresses like they've been at since the Spring collections. Fall is featuring short dresses again, but in heavier knits with longer sleeves. A big trend also is layering long sleeved shirts under more summery weight dresses, and it's a good way to transition from your summer wardrobe. It's about layering, and layering is your Chicago-weather friend.
HOW TO FUCK THIS UP: Wearing pants under your dress. No. I repeat: NO. Leggings are solid, but jeans or anything remotely pant-like is way way off. Also, wearing summer fabrics and patterns into winter is bad. Light weight cotton poplin and linen are summer only, and bright flower patterns or anything that looks at home on the beach won't do. So don't do it.

2.) Gray

As usual, I'm well ahead of the trends. I've been pushing gray since the beginning of the summer, and now all of the designers are hot for it. They must read my blog too. Gray is a supremely versatile neutral, and it looks fantastic with bright colors. Instead of black tights, do charcoal gray tights. Instead of a black or tan overcoat, opt for gray wool. Gray is also showing up on a lot of shoes; it looks especially fly in suede.

3.) Yellow

Fuck yeah!! As my devotees know, yellow is my favorite color. It's also a color that is widely hated, unjustly, by many. Go figure. I've been seeing yellow cropping up in the last few seasons, mostly in accessories. A handbag or some plastic bangles in the shade are good for the more color shy of you. It's great with bright red, white, gray, and even tan and khaki shades. For the ballsy, just go nuts and hook yourself up with some fly yellow apparel. You're here, you're queer, and you're not going anywhere!
PALE FOLKS: choose lemon or school bus yellow, and run screaming away from butter and mustard.
DARKER SKIN: bright true yellow may work for you, but if you're iffy, try a deeper gold shade or something in a sherbet pastel (not too pale, but not quite a bright).

4.) Cinched waists and strong shoulders

The shapeless sacks from the summer have gone the way of the warm weather, my friends, and a more structured sillouette is on the menu for fall and winter. Fitted jackets are everywhere; if you have coats that are loose on you, take them to the tailor and have them altered to fit you well - especially through the waist. Belted trenches are huge, and belts in general were seen on everything. The shoulders are more defined in the new styles, without crossing the line into giant 80's shoulder pad sillyness.
HOW TO DO THE NEW BELT: Bitches, please stop throwing a random belt on over t-shirts so you look weird and awkward. Loose blouses and oversize sweaters: cinch at the waist with a thick belt and blouse your top a bit (I said A BIT) over the belt. A skinny belt over a buttoned cardigan is adorable on nearly everyone. Belted tops work best with skirts, and Satan forbid if I see someone wearing a belt over a shirt with belt loops visible on her pants. If you plan to keep it on, throw a belt on over a buttoned jacket that's well-fitted. Most dresses work well also; if you're skittish about trying this (for seriously peeps, belts were EVERYWHERE on EVERYTHING), throw a thick bright colored one over your little black dress for evening. Way cute and all sorts of fashionable.

5.) Tights

If you're fortunate enough to enjoy the abomination that is winter in Chicago, then you know how necessary tights are. Textures, colors, and everything in between. What wasn't there: black tights. Last fall, everything was fucking black tights. This year, replace all of your black tights with gray tights. Still matches nearly everything, but you look much cooler. I know you: you need all the help you can get.
I have always had mad love for colored tights, and super duper bright is what the designers are pushing. I dig it and do it, but I'm a revolutionary who doesn't mind getting made fun of (by homeless people) for my sartorial stunts. Plus, bright colored tights are for fun and not for work. For a more demure option, pick up some eggplant, chocolate brown, deep blue (not navy - navy is barf), gray and burgundy. Forest green looks especially rad; even the anti-fashion gang people in my 'hood give me a shout out when I have mine on. Or maybe they just want to sell me some rocks.

6.) Jewelry and handbags

Fuck the designers, I'll tell you what's what. Their take is super huge monster sacks that could easily fit a 5 year old child. I assume, since you have internet at your disposal, that you aren't bag ladies - so don't carry out a giant bag lady bag. That shit just looks sloppy.
JILLIAN'S TREND
Go for interest. That extremely general, but take a quick gander at your hand bag. Is it solid colored? Probably a neutral color? Plain and boring? Get rid of it. Pick up something in a bright color; true red goes with a lot more than you would think. Patterns are nice, texture is a buzz word for the season. If you just can't part with black or brown, switch to something in a shiny patent leather. You'll thank me when people stop calling you a dork behind your back.

Jewelry was pretty sparse on the runways, so I'll just tell you what will not be okay:
- a bunch of necklaces in varying lengths
- the Sicilian horns - massively played out.
- nut beads and shells - over, over, over!
- crucifixes - good for keeping vampires and me away, but that's about it
JILLIAN'S TREND
I like long necklaces: a single interesting necklace, or a few of the same length and a similar feel. I just came upon a long gold rope chain with a green pingpong ball sized plastic apple hanging off it; the apple has a single leaf in gold, covered with clear rhinestones. It is, undoubtedly, the jam. I was rocking it the other day with my gold plated maple leaf pendant on a gold chain the same length (and my green galoshes, cuz that's how I roll) to much aplomb.
Bangles are still good, but lean toward one large rather than a mess of skinny ones. Plastic and notably lucite are great.

WORST FALL TRENDS 2007

1.) Shorts

Or rather, MOTHERFUCKING SHORTS. For reals, people? For cold weather? I am no proponent of shorts for any season, but Fall and Winter are just ridiculously impractical. Short shorts only look decent on the very tall and very slim. If that doesn't sound like you, guess what? You look like thick-thighed crap in your shorts. And please don't accuse me of hating on thickness in any respect, I'm plenty thick myself. I just have this ridiculous idea that you should dress to flatter what you've got rather than just wearing any old thing you found in the main display at Old Navy (or losing weight, of course). For all seasons, if you want to show your gams, put on a skirt. You are a girl (or a tranny) after all, you won't be shocking anyone and it's far more flattering.

2.) Puff sleeves

As of the last time I checked, I'm not five years old. Yes, I wear my hair in pigtails from time to time, I have a penchant for funny socks, and I just can't seem to get silly galoshes out of my system. But yet, I still look like an adult. The short puff sleeves that designers are flaunting this year are downright infantilizing. If you are over 15, you cannot do this. If you want to throw caution to the wind against my advice, you best make sure you have extremely slim upper arms. You'll look ridiculous still, but at least it won't be squeezing arm flab (hey, I have it, whatever).

3.) Neckties

Um, is Avril in the house? Cuz I left my machete at home. Surprisingly, I saw this with a lot of lines this season. It's fucked, just say no.

What the hell, how about a 3rd list while I'm on a roll....

THINGS YOU NEED TO PACK AWAY PROMPTLY

1.) The babydoll shirts

Is it a dress? Is it a shirt? Is it completely unflattering and looks like maternity wear? If you can't cinch it reasonably with a cute belt at the waist, it's gots to go. Shapeless is out, and you need at least a DD cup for a babydoll top with an empire waist to flatter you rather than just make you look fat. Yes, really.

2.) Boot cut pants or jeans

The flare at the bottom, even if it's subtle, looks very dated. If you're still sporting actual bellbottoms, I'm just going to slap you. STRAIGHT LEG! Skinny jeans and pants, wide leg, or anything in the middle: lay the pants down flat, and they shouldn't taper in or out between the knee and the ankle.

3.) Super low rise pants

Honey, didn't you get the memo? That shit is done, not that it was a fantastic idea in the first place. Can you say Muffin Top? Cuz I can, and I'm talking about you.

4.) Ugly shoes

This includes: athletic shoes that are good for actual athletics, Ugg and fake Ugg boots (hello 2001! Why won't you die?), and flats on most people. Yes, some folks can wear flats and they look great. These are people who have long slim legs, SMALL NARROW FEET, and enough definition between ankle and calf that people aren't shouting "Cankles!" out of their car windows. Please note, that doesn't describe most people. I'm above average in height and I have a pretty sexy pair of legs - yet flat shoes with a skirt on me makes me look short and dumpy. I'm a supermodel, so you can just imagine how you would look. You want comfortable shoes? Get flat, knee high boots. Those suit nearly everyone.

I hope I managed to set you all on the righteous path for Fall fashion. Please feel free to direct any follow up queries to me; I'll get together with the homeless in the alley and we'll come up with a solid solution for any of your sartorial worries. Help me help you....to not look like such a fucking douchebag. That really is the best reward.

You still won't look as good as me,
J-Illin'

Back by popular demand

2007-09-12T12:04:00.000-07:00

Fuckin' a, people. I know you all love and adore me (who wouldn't? I'm adorable), but there are only so many hours in the day. I'm busy with some projects right now, but I'll try to be more regular about posting. I wouldn't want all of my clients going somewhere else for their evil needs...

Less scurvy, more curvy,
Jillian

I'm gonna stab a bitch

2007-08-16T10:50:00.000-07:00

[I wrote this a while ago, but it's been sitting in my drafts, unfinished, for weeks. It's rather....um....vitriolic, and I was pretty peeved when I put the brunt of this down. I'll wrap up the story and ad an update for the current situation. And then I'll publish something much more interesting and cheerful because, honestly, I'm just not feeling very bitchy today. Don't worry, it won't last.]

[Also, considering the crankiness I'm subjecting you to, I've added some photos as a special treat. The first photo is the wedding party, so you can get a good look at Shirley's crazy yellow Barbie hair. The second picture is Kim, who obviously ran afoul of the photographer. The last is the gorgeous bride and groom from my harrowing tale. Enjoy!]

Good grief, could people possibly be more selfish and shitty? For someone not really known for kindness and pleasantry, it seems a bit wrong that I take such exception to the character of a lot of individuals. They call me The Devil, yet I seem to be of the minority that actually know how to treat people.

Here's where this is coming from....

We did the wedding of Kris and Marty last Friday and, as expected, it was hectic and stressful and the usual suspects made a point of causing more grief and trouble than anything else. The usual subjects of which I speak are 3 of Kris' bridesmaids who could possibly be the most vile creatures on this earth. Selfish, rude, bitchy, lazy, indignant, and completely without a fucking clue about how to behave in any sort of proper setting. Would you fucking believe that Kim and Shirley (the maid of honor and matron of honor respectively) chatted with each other during the actual wedding ceremony? The bride and groom were appropriately shocked and pissed -- this was being videotaped for posterity after all -- but I'm terribly curious as to what they expected out of those two. I know both of those idiots and I sure as shit didn't expect them to act with any sort of composure. They're straight up trash, those two, and it is unreasonable to expect that people will change their fundamental natures just because their friend is getting married. They proved this adage a million times over the course of the wedding foolishness.

"You're only as good as your worst friend"

Go ahead and read that statement again. Absorb it, understand it, feel it, breathe it, be it....because it is entirely true. If your family is shitty, there isn't much you can do about it. But friends are the family that you get to choose, and you had better choose wisely.

I try to be a good friend, always. When my friends ask me to be responsible, I am and I'm unfailing. When my friends ask me for a favor, I do anything in my power to grant it. My friends do not have to ask me to be kind or caring or generous or honest....they know I always will be. I expect the same from them and this is the reason I have such good friends. However, I seem to be in the minority.

Kris and Marty are off in Jamaica, enjoying their honeymoon and some exciting hurricanes (stupid global warming making vacationing hard). They had asked me to take care of their myriad animals and watch their house while they are away. I work from home, which is conveniently located down the street from them, and I'm their Responsible Friend. Plus, all of the animals - save for the stupid bunny - seem to like me.

[Here's where my tirade left off, as I was interrupted by the onslaught of EVIL INTERLOPERS! I will now recap the house-sitting experience.]

"Evil interlopers? Jillian, what the fuck are you talking about now?"

Here's the sordid tale:
I hadn't planned on spending most of my time over and Kris and Marty's place. It's no effort to pop in a few times during the day, as Evil HQ is just down the street. However, while I was composing the rant above, Kim and her boyfriend just wandered on in. As we all know, I don't do Kim, so I had made a point of asking Kristin if she was planning on hanging around at their house. Kris said that Kim didn't have a key, as Kris had gotten her key back from Kim.

Guess what? She had a fucking key, walked right in, and seemed extremely put out that I was there. And why might she be annoyed that I was there? Because she wanted to search the place for a little handbag Kris had given her as a bridesmaid gift. She and her boyfriend started going through rooms and opening closets and cabinets. Needless to say, I was shocked and disgusted and put an end to that immediately. Who goes searching through someone's home when they're out of town? Fucking degenerates.

Anyhoo, I stuck around that afternoon until those fuckers finally left. They were there auspiciously to take the dog for a walk, but they didn't even do that. Naturally, I was concerned about the relative safety of Kris and Marty's stuff after what Kim was willing to perpetrate right in front of me, so I made a point of hanging out there as much as I could. And guess what else? It fucking happened again!

"Hey Jillian, you are the toughest medium-sized white girl around, didn't those shitfaces get the picture after the first time they tried to toss the joint?"

Fuck yeah, those motherfuckers did....But then Shirley came over late one night and pulled the same motherfucking stunt. Do you believe that?! Walked right in the house, shocked to see me sitting on the couch watching ANTM marathons(if you don't know, better ask somebody), lied about checking on the dog, and started rooting through the house. SHOCKING. She also had a head full of crazy, bright yellow Barbie hair sewn into her scalp (as usual) and she was very drunk. She drove over there and planned on driving home to the Joliet area. While drunk. Obviously, I was getting sick of defending my friends' place from the Evil Interlopers they thought were their friends. I made it real clear to Shirley that anything she needs at their home can be obtained from Kris and Marty when they returned home from their vacation, and that I better not see her trying this crap again. Fuckin A.

It's been a few weeks since Kris and Marty returned from the honeymoon and got my full report from while they were away. Kris has since dumped Kim and Shirley was on the shit list for a while. I told Kris, when she returned, that she was only as good as her worst friend and she seemed to take that statement to heart. At the very least, I don't have to listen to her badmouthing Kim constantly anymore.

No animals were harmed in the creation of this post,
J

Everybody wants to be me

2007-07-24T11:06:00.000-07:00

You know it's true.

I apologize for neglecting my journalistic duties, but it's been non-stop chaos here at Evil HQ. In case you're wondering, those crazy bitches fucking up my friends' wedding plans are still in full effect. One of them has been wailing for days about how no one came to her birthday party; she somehow interpreted my insulting her to her face as us being super good buddies and decided that I didn't show up because I was influenced by the angry bride (note: I didn't go to her birthday party because I don't like her. This is America, I don't gotta like everybody - it's in the Constitution). The other major trouble maker was trying to do damage control all weekend because I caught her on the bus obviously carrying on with a man who is not her long-term live-in boyfriend. Yeah, she's a ho, but I'd have to actually care about her to care if she was a cheating tramp - and alas, I do not. 16 days and counting until this insanity is over.

In other news...

Saturday, I attended a delightful party in honor of my friends' Jason and Erin's birthdays as well as a bon voyage for my hot piece of man meat that's moving to Japan (booooo!). One of Erin's friends brought a pinata filled with tampons, condoms and KY jelly mixed in with the candy and toys. I brought jello shots which caused, in part, an epidemic of drunkenness at the event.

This weekend is the bachelorette party for my girly who's getting hitched soon. It should be an abomination, to put it nicely. I'm bucking convention and bringing my hot ho, David, as my date. Tune in next week to see how dramatic the proceedings turned out (ooooooh, it's gonna be bad....).

I'm feeling self-indulgent today.

Considering that, I shall indulge in one of my favorite activities about one of my favorite subjects. Today's lists are all about me.

I know how badly you all want to be just like me, and why wouldn't you? I rule. Here is some handy information for you to emulate your idol (me).

Jillian like things. These things, in particular...

Jillian's favorite foods

1.) Tomatoes
Dammit, I just can't get enough. I also heard they keep the cancer away. Handy, considering all the things I do to promote cancer.

2.) Crunchy Peanut Butter
Fuckin' A, is there a finer nut-based spread than crunchy PB? I think not.

3.) Pizza
I love pizza. I would eat it for every meal if I could. My favorite is still Piece in Wicker Park, although they have a disconcerting habit of allowing metal shards to fall in the food. Unsettling but, like a gay cowboy, I just can't quit them.

4.) Caeser Salad
There was a 6 month period a few years ago where I consumed little else but caesar salads for every meal. Even breakfast. I'm sure my breath was appalling, but I couldn't control it. I've gotten my habit down to 4 or 5 a week, thanks to the Salad Patch (TM). The Salad Patch is a product I've pioneered to combat caesar addiction: it's an anchovy wrapped in lettuce taped to my upper arm. Considering the stench, it's a wonder that anyone is willing to hang out with me. Oh, I forgot....the smell of my awesomeness is far more overpowering than stinky canned fish.

5.) Creme Brulee
I make a lot of desserts, but this is the only one where I want to consume the entirety of my labors.

Special Bonus Treat
- I don't merely bask in the adoration of my fans, I give back to the people too! For your enjoyment, here's one of my favorite recipes. Go forth and take over the world with...

New Potatoes ala Jillian

I invented this recipe while working on a meal showcasing fresh summer herbs. I assumed it would keep well if I made too much, so I used 10 large new potatoes for a crowd of 5 people. There was a ton of other dishes, but the potatoes were still decimated. The only conclusion I can come to is that this is the most delicious potato preparation in the world.

--New potatoes (the ones with the red skins) : go with about twice as much as you think everybody will eat, 2 large or 3 medium potatoes per person.
--Unripened goat cheese, also called Chevre (it's very soft and creamy, looks like a white log)
--Extra virgin olive oil
--Heavy whipping cream
--Fresh garlic, and do not even try using the minced garlic in a jar. I'll find you and beat you.
--Chopped fresh chives
--Salt and pepper to taste

I never measure anything when I'm cooking, but I'll say the directions below work for approximately 10 largish new potatoes. Increase or reduce appropriately according to your needs.

With skins on, cut potatoes into 1 inch chunks and boil until soft. Combine 5 ounces Chevre, 1/3 cup olive oil, 1/3 cup heavy whipping cream, and 5 or 6 large garlic cloves - diced finely. [Note: the fresh garlic is key because it's so pungent in the recipe that it's almost spicy. You do not get the same effect from the garbage in the jar, so don't mess]. Using a hand mixer, whip the mixture until fluffy - 2 to 3 minutes. Add 1/4 cup freshly shopped chives and mix lightly. Drain potato chunks, allow to cool slightly, and combine with goat cheese mixture. Serve to guests and enjoy being called a culinary genius.

Jillian's Favorite Movies

Looking for some entertainment? Just ask yourself "WWJR?" -- What would Jillian rent?

1.) Anything by Pedro Almodovar.
This bitch is a motherfucking genius. He writes and directs all of his films, and they run the gamut from horror/fantasy (Pan's Labrynth) to unsettling romances (Talk to Her). I'm delighted that the P-man has gotten so much notoriety in the U.S as of late, do yourself a favor and check his shit out. My personal favorite is Bad Education which, of course, should be your personal favorite too.

2.) Big Trouble in Little China
"We really shook the pillars of heaven last night, didn't we?" Yes, you did, sir; yes, you most certainly did.

3.) Blade and Blade II
Everybody knows I enjoy me some monsters. Add super awesome sword fights and an astoundingly dry performance by Wesley Snipes, and it's about the best thing in the world. Also, if you've not heard, the first few minutes of Blade is the finest opening scene ever conceived in any movie ever made ever in the world. And if you've not heard that, where the hell have you been?

4.) The Golden Child
I am fully aware that Eddie Murphy is a dumb douche bag and all of the movies he's made recently are....how to put it?....um, let's just say EXTREMELY EMBARRASSING for him. Allow me to take a moment to address Mr. Murphy directly:

An Open Letter to Eddie Murphy

Yo! Eddie, my man! How's things?

Actually, buddy, I know how things are. They're pretty fucked up for you these days. You knocked up Ugly Spice and tried to deny that the kid was yours. Dude, I was was shocked too to find out that she wasn't a post-op transsexual, but isn't the threat of AIDS and the dreaded syphillerpes enough impetus for you to put a damn condom on? Have some sense. And speaking of having sense, we need to chat about the movies you've been doing.

Norbit? For reals? I know how much you like dressing up as overweight women; this is a quirk your close friends have been dealing with for many years now. But me and your bros are more than a little concerned that you're parading your sick proclivities for all the world to see. Crossdressing is cool, but fat suits are just deviant. Yeah, you were funny as the donkey in the first two Shrek movies, but I heard the third one is a giant steaming pile of feces. Not to mention that these are kid's films. Really, E to the M, what gives?

An intervention is in order, my friend. You're coming over tonight and we're going to watch The Golden Child: not only your finest work, but possibly the best movie ever made. I know it's going to hurt to see how far you've fallen, but we have to do this. Kev, Lil' G, and Pookie are coming over too and we've got all your favorites: Bold n Zesty Chex Mix, roasted suckling pig, white zinfandel, and pineapple Boone's Farm. Just don't make this a repeat of when you came over last week; that hooker you brought left coke all over the bathroom and stole a bunch of my panties. Viva Nepal!

With Love,
Your best friend Jillian

That's it for now, my darlings. I must get back to work spreading the word of the Dark Lord and returning my overdue library books. Truly, there is no rest for the wicked. Wicked awesome, that is!

Check yourselves before you wreck yourselves,
J-Killa

Holy crap, why does anyone do this?

2007-07-16T10:55:00.000-07:00

Those of you that don't know me well may be surprised to learn how little of my actual personal life is committed to this page. You read correctly: I hold a lot back, and the entries here are a mere fraction of my day to day insanity. Aside from pondering ways you can hang out with me every day, I'm sure you're curious as to why someone as generally candid as I leaves the more personal information out. I have a few reasons. My friends probably wouldn't be too keen on being blog fodder for much more than their drunken antics, and I respect them enough not to skewer them too badly in a public forum. I don't mention my romantic life either because I wouldn't want to bust on my super mad game. I ain't a player, I just crush a lot.

So, it is with some trepidation that I compose the following tale. I call it...

THIS FUCKING WEDDING IS DRIVING MY ASS CRAZY

Some good friends of mine are getting married next month, and I am stuck being a bridesmaid. That, really, is a bad enough fate. However, as of the weekend, I have realized what a nightmare this event may turn out to be. Do you know what the problem is? The other fucking bridesmaids. For the sake of diplomacy and my friend's sanity, I've been playing nice with this gaggle of self-involved bitches for a few months now....but my patience is waning.

I am not a wedding fan. Sure, it's fun to go to them and get shit-faced, but being involved in the planning of such events is a particular torture unto itself. Super dooper for anybody who is actually into this trifling crap: I really don't care what you like and I'm not here to say marriage is stupid or wrong. I don't give a fuck about marriage: It's probably not for me, but that's not the point. Weddings are stupid and wrong. The planning, the high expectations that everything be perfect....and, apparently, finding the dumbest, rudest, most inconsiderate women you can find to be involved in said event.

Now that last statement is awfully inflammatory, but I concede it is based on my current wedding experience and a rerun of Bridezillas on TV. That's about all the ammo I require for a crass generalization.

Needless to say, I am very disappointed in the majority of bridesmaids involved in the upcoming nuptials. I'm sure it's not a stretch for persons who've never planned a wedding themselves to understand what a large undertaking it is and that it may prove stressful. Why is it, then, that these bitches feel the need to cause extra problems? In fact, the only problems with the wedding so far have been regarding these women. They aren't all bad: there's myself and one particular lesbian that actually make an effort to be useful for our friend. Allow me to repeat: OUR FRIEND. Not some hated relation that's roped these girls into wedding servitude: someone who, in theory, is a close friend of all parties discussed here. What gives?

I'm sure you're thinking "What could they have pulled to elicit such ire, Jillian?" (in addition to being the best-dressed and most interesting person you know, I am also psychic). "Perhaps you just have a low tolerance for dumb peoples' dumb antics, or you're merely bitter for having to show up in public swaddled in lilac polyester satin." While that's not exactly untrue, these chicks have really pulled some crap:

* At the bridal shower yesterday, only 2 of 7 bridesmaids showed up. YEAH, THE FUCKING BRIDAL SHOWER. I would rather undergo bowel surgery, spend a week in a sealed container full of corpses, or wear Sketchers than go to a motherfucking bridal shower. Yet, I was there (getting drunk). Not fucking cool, guys. The bride and groom were genuinely hurt and upset.
I mildly admonished one of these ho's via myspace earlier today, and she thought she was going to try and put me in my place by giving me a sob story about her "if you must know, health problems" that magically and mysteriously cropped up out of the ether on a Sunday afternoon. First off - come on, girl, stop lying. She told the groom earlier in the day that she had cramps, not the ominous "health problems" she was trying to sell me today. And any woman of drinking age knows that claiming cramps on a Sunday afternoon to get out of a boring event means you're hungover. This girl was barely a blip before, but now I really have no respect for her. I'm not giving the others who skipped out a pass on this; they're dicks too, but at least they had better sense than to hurl some overly defensive bullshit at me so I know clearly that they're liars.

*One particularly insane attendant refuses to purchase a hideous lilac dress in a size that fits her. Oh yes, she is one of that obnoxious breed that think her self-worth is somehow linked to the size of clothing she wears. I'm fully aware that she doesn't have a shred of common sense a good portion of the time, but this is completely ridiculous. I'm typically an 8, but the monstrosity I purchased is a 12. Oh well, nobody can see the size on the tag while I'm wearing it even if I did care about such a trivial thing. The loony in question fit nicely into a 14, but ordered a 12 anyway. The 12 arrived and she can't even get into the thing. Instead of ordering a new dress that fits, she plans to starve herself down a few sizes before the wedding. In 3 weeks.
I already know how this is going to turn out: she won't be able to fit into her dress, she'll throw a dramatic tantrum and refuse to be in the wedding, the bride will freak out and start crying, and I'll have to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up and deal with the problem. Oh, and take apart loony's dress so I can perform some field alterations and sew her into the damn thing moments before the ceremony. I am not looking forward to this.

* Two of the bridesmaids have planned the lamest goddamn bachelorette party ever. EVER. I won't go into details, I'll only say Come on, ladies! The last I checked we weren't all sheltered middle age housewives and neither is the bride. LAME!

These are only a few examples of how little these girls care for their friend. It's real shitty and I may be forced to come up with a new threat to get these bitches in line for the wedding. Perhaps offering to get an air rifle for the bride for the day of the wedding - they know, as well as I do, that the bride will open fire on everyone even close to causing trouble. Mostly, I'm just shocked at how jerky they're being overall. If anyone has some good suggestions for dealing with these bitches, please comment. I've tried diplomacy and logic, but that's a losing proposition with this crowd. Right now, my best idea is to slip them some drugs that would make them more amenable without falling down or losing consciousness.

To the bride and groom: If you even read this page, sorry for dragging your shit out but I needed to vent. I can always take the post down if you like. Kisses.

To the bridesmaids: I'd be very surprised to find out you read this, mostly that you can actually read (ohh, that was low, but I don't much bother being nice to people I'm indifferent to at best). Anything I've said about you is, unfortunately, very true. Instead of bothering me with your outrage --again, I don't care if you don't like what I say, so save your breathe-- be less of an asshole to your friend.

This is what I get for caring,
J

Raising Awareness? Give me a fucking break.

2007-07-08T07:26:00.000-07:00

I want to brace everyone before I get started here. I am not in fine spirits this morning, and with good reason. You may be stunned by the following hate-filled tirade, but everything I plan to say needs to be said desperately. I went to an event last night to raise awareness about the environmental plight and awareness was, indeed, raised. I am aware that people are fucking idiots.

WHAT IS THIS 'ENVIRONMENT' OF WHICH YOU SPEAK?

So....we're all clear on what pollution is, correct? We know what causes it? It's around 3 years of age that humans can distinguish between dirty and clean things; it's quite a rarity to see a grown person chow down on a handful of dirt. The environment is the same concept, yes? This is ridiculously simple shit. You know when you suck in a lungful of car exhaust that it is not a good, healthy thing. Everyone has seen a garbage dump before. You can see the gray clouds of smog that gather over major cities. Since we're all aware of these things, what awareness is it that one must raise with an event such as the Live Earth Concert?

"Oh, but Jillian, their hearts are in the right place! These rich rock stars and actors are at least doing SOMETHING for the environment!"

I know you're thinking it. You've been sucked into some bullshit, my friends. A giant steaming pile.
-First off, what exactly are these people doing for the environment? Are they raising money for scientific research in green technology? Ummmm, NO. They're raising motherfucking AWARENESS about an issue people are already real goddamn clear on. GREAT. FANTASTIC. How USEFUL!!! Have they collected this giant audience together to go clean up parks in blighted areas of the giant cities they're performing in? NO!!!!!! They've collected all these people to watch them spew out their particular brand of bullshit and inoffensive pop music.

-Secondly....celebrities, people? I want you all to pay close attention to this next statement as it it is vital:

IF YOU CARE ABOUT WHAT ACTORS OR MUSICIANS HAVE TO SAY ABOUT POLITICAL ISSUES, YOU ARE AN ASS.

Seriously, folks, that is so goddamn idiotic. These are people who do not live in any kind of reality. They earn outrageous sums of money and live in a world distorted by their fame and affluence. Still interested in arguing this one with me? How many actors do you know that have Ph.d's in environmental science? Hell, any kind of advanced degree that has nothing to do with acting. Yeah, I thought so.

THE REAL ISSUE

This is the bit that people don't love to chat about. This is the part that everyone makes excuses for. This is the real issue:

WE CHOOSE TO POLLUTE

We've established that we all know the causes of pollution, yet the U.S. is fighting a war in the Middle East to rape more fossil fuels from the environment over there to bring over here to cause more pollution in our air and water. DID YOU FUCKING HEAR THAT? People are dying so you can gas up your car.

Automobiles are the BIGGEST cause of pollution in the United States. Hands down, winner by a landslide. We know this (really, you absolutely cannot deny it), but we get in the car anyway.

ALLOW ME TO SET THE SCENE...

My sister proposed an evening out yesterday, attending the 'Party for the Planet' at The Butterfly Social Club (no, I didn't make that up). It was an event at a a bar to screen the Live Earth Asshole Fest and, I assumed, have some discourse on environmental issues and do something productive about them. I have many inflammatory and negative things to say about this scene, and you know I'm fond of lists. Here goes...

1.) BUTTERFLY SOCIAL CLUB
This bar is styled as an all organic and clean air smoke-free establishment, and it looks like something out of a hippies wet dream. The whole interior looks like it's sculpted out of mud (or feces), with organically designed seating and stupid ass fake butterflies hanging from the ceiling. The only thing missing was the pot smoke but, alas: smoke-free. All of the drinks served were organic, and one could enjoy their pesticide-free fruit gruel with some putrid vegan food being served. Out of disposable plastic containers. On disposable plastic plates. With disposable plastic flatware.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I am a black-hearted bastard anyway, but is it really necessary to be so motherfucking flagrant about your phoniness? Because that's truly what this Butterfly place illustrates so nicely: fake environmentalism. We'll get back to this.

2.) MoveOn.org

The event was thrown by MoveOn.org, so you know the useless bastards to blame for this mockery of activism.

3.) THE CROWD

I attended this event with my sister, and two other young women. I wasn't terribly shocked, however, when we arrived to find a room full of hippie-looking middle aged folks. Let's do a fun exercise. Imagine for me, if you will, your picture of an average environmentalist. Is it a middle age, peace and lovin' type, maybe with some long hair and clothes that say "I don't sweat fashion because I focus my energies on actual IMPORTANT things"? I'm ashamed to say that, like many others, this is the picture I have. And these were the people in attendance.

How do I put this nicely? I don't, that's how. I'M CALLING OUT YOU MIDDLE AGE ENVIRONMENTALISTS! Guess what, you fucking cunts, YOU DID THIS. Your generation and your parents generation. Glamorizing the automobile, creating demand for disposable everything and high-tech lab-created materials because 'it's the wave of the future' or some such nonsense. This is the legacy you have passed on to my generation, and you want to sit there with your gray ponytail and hemp shirt and tell me you care about the fucking environment. Well fuck you.

You people are worse than your peers that happily prowl the streets in their supersize SUVs and toss trash out the window. At least those motherfuckers know they're motherfuckers. You flit about, talking recycling of bottles and cans, and posture this image of earth-friendliness. Maybe you buy paper towels made out of recycled materials and organic produce, but you still get in your gas-guzzling automobile to go to the giant, corporate owned supermarket that lies about the organic produce anyway. You all go ahead and perpetuate this consumerist existence, and you only do the easy stuff when it comes to your 'politics'.

After that last bit, I expect a flurry of defensive tactics from anyone that may see themselves in those last few paragraphs. Here is my response: you've all been here on this earth roughly twice as long as I have. And what have you accomplished? The environment is wretchedly polluted, the most damage having been done in the last 50 years or so (and getting consistently worse). Hey shitheads - THIS WAS ON YOUR WATCH! And what do you have to show for all of your organic produce and criminalizing of aerosol hairspray? THE ENVIRONMENT IS WORSE AND THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THAT.

LET'S JUST GO BACK TO HATING ON EVERYBODY

As I mentioned before, the phenomenon is fake environmentalism. Putting on a real good show of caring and conserving because that's what's cool. It's not only my parents' generation doing this, young people are guilty too. Guilty of not caring enough, guilty of laziness, guilty of desire for instant gratification and the latest commodity. We all do it.

I'm getting really tired of the vanity environmentalists and their phony earth-saving antics. Here are two examples of not only wasted efforts, but activities in the name of environmentalism that actually hurt the environment:

PURE AIR!
At the event last night, this middle aged bitch was passing out cards that read "PURE AIR/ You Deserve It!" on the front and "Please TURN OFF Your Engine When Not Driving. /Thank You :)"
WELL, ISN'T THAT HELPFUL!! You mean, I shouldn't just leave my car running twenty-four hours a day? Huh, well if you say so! How stupid is this sentiment, people? It's not "Stop driving your car so much" or "Buy a hybrid vehicle that uses less fossil fuel". NO, this ass was telling people to turn their cars off when they aren't driving. Additionally, the cards that this woman was handing out to everyone attending are made out of heavy, unrecycled card stock with a plasticizing coating to make them water proof. Hey bitch, how pure is the air over the landfill these cards full of trite, useless sentiments will be resisting biodegradation in? Conveniently, she included her email address on the card, if you would care to send her a note telling her what a dumb cunt she is (elainelemx@aol.com). You're welcome to reference me, I'm the bitch in the pink dress that shouted at her at the bar.

LIVE EARTH!

"Hey everybody, let's have a super awesome concert so we can raise some awareness and stuff about, like, the environment and shit. It will be an excellent opportunity to have people look at us, because you know we celebrity types can't possibly get enough attention. Plus, everybody will think we're all, like, smart and responsible."

To recap, money was not raised for environmental ACTION. Nobody learned anything new about what we all, in our own lives, are doing to contribute to pollution. Let us investigate what actually was accomplished:
-Huge amounts of electricity were expended putting on this extravaganza. Power plants (you know, they make the electricity) are notorious pollution sources.
-Gas powered generators were used, pumping noxious fumes out into the air.
-An enormous crowd of people acquired disposable paper tickets for the event, drove their cars there, purchased engineered and hormone-filled fast food and beverages in disposable containers, which they then disposed of or merely dumped on the ground.
-Land that could be full of vegetation was full of people and machines.
All I see here is USE USE USE. The only thing accomplished was more trash, more energy expenditure. No action, only more pollution. And people sitting back and applauding these imbeciles for their good deeds. Fucking christ.

BITCH BITCH BITCH

It ain't all I do, folks. I try to do my bit for the environment, personally and socially. Now, this is my rant, and I hardly need to defend myself to you guys, but I'll go ahead and tell you about what I do to help the environment. I'm not trying to be self-righteous or claim that I'm not part of the problem like everybody else. The sad fact is that the little I do to improve our planet is a lot more than most people do, and I hope I can inspire people to revolt against laziness and despondency through my example. And also threat of violence, but we'll get to that.

Here's the thing about activism, and it's a good one, so pay attention: People who've not been heavily involved in grassroots activism have trouble sometimes seeing the point of it all. What can one tiny person do to make a difference? How will my one tiny act make any difference at all? These are the fallacies that people are working under when they decide to drop that gum wrapper on the ground or use a paper plate when they have proper dishes available. The honest truth, the reality of the situation, is that every single person and every single act makes a huge difference. I hate to get poetic on you, but the culmination of millions of tiny raindrops is a raging storm. So don't give me that "what difference does it make" horse shit.

A DISCOURSE ON GARBAGE

Garbage is bad. Some garbage is more bad than other garbage. If you take some garbage and sit it in water for a few days and, when removed, it hasn't changed in any respect? That's some bad garbage. It doesn't disappear when it leaves your home in a tidy plastic hefty sack. It goes to a landfill, where it gets buried in the ground, and it sits there. In the environment.

HEY EVERYBODY, MAKE LESS FUCKING GARBAGE!
Don't buy paper plates and plastic flatware. Washing dishes won't kill you, you lazy fuckers. Use a real towels and reusable sponges whenever you can instead of going through rolls of paper towels. DON'T BUY INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED FOOD PRODUCTS! This seems like a no-brainer, but people just adore convenience foods in tidy, easy little packages. Do you mean to tell me that you don't have the 20 seconds it requires to drop your crackers or prunes or chips or whatever into a tupperware container? Come on, you ain't that important. And yes, you heard me correctly: Tupperware! Not disposable baggies which, if you must use them, can be reused quite easily numerous times.

I'm not going to be like that shitbag, Sheryl Crowe, and tell you to only use one square of toilet paper. I'm telling you to pay attention to the garbage you create and cut out as much of it as you can. Again, we're talking tiny raindrops. Instead of that pre-washed lettuce at the grocery store in it's thick and shiny colored plastic bag, put an unwrapped head of lettuce in the ultrathin plastic produce bags available. If you think that's a trivial thing, get yourself a sample of each bag and wad them up as tight as you can: the shiny colored plastic bag is about 4 times the size. That's only one example of things you may have never considered making unnecessary waste. Really, all it takes to makes a giant impact on how much garbage you produce is thinking about this stuff and making better, more responsible choices. So do it already.

SPEAKING OF GARBAGE...NEVER LITTER
Never ever ever ever ever ever litter. Ever. I hit people for littering. If I am unable to do any physical damage to litterers or their property, they can most certainly expect a loud and furious indictment of their character. I'm crazy and I will step up to anybody, and littering is abominable. Intolerable, in fact, and I do not tolerate it.

Aside from my rather unhinged but proactive stance on littering, I also pick up garbage on the streets and put it in a receptacle.

"Ewwwwwwwww, Jillian! That is so gross! It's dirty and icky and I'm a delicate sissy!"

You know what I say to that? Man up, you little primadonnas. For those of you that haven't had the pleasure of gazing upon my lovely visage, I'm an awfully fancy woman. Dresses, make-up, high heels, the works. While my personality doesn't lend itself to many typically feminine attributes, I'm all girl on the outside (and well turned out to boot). So, if I can bend over and pick up a candy wrapper or an empty bag of chips outside in all of my finery, you most certainly can too.
THIS IS ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING PROACTIVE FOR THE ENVIRONMENT
Not the bullshit of signing petitions or talking about pesticides like you actually know how that shit works (lack of scientific knowledge in the populace is a rant for another day), here is an activity you can do every damn day to make an obvious difference in the cleanliness of your environment. People are less likely to litter in clean areas rather than places with litter everywhere; see all the good you can do by picking a few wrappers here and there? This makes a difference, my friends, and any talk similar to the quote above will be met with a furious thrashing. As always, if I have to take off the heels to beat you, you're getting twice the beating.

RECYCLE
You know what that is. If you have recycling programs in your area, use them.

We recently got exciting new blue bins in my neighborhood for a new recycling program the city is working out. I have harassed the living hell out of everyone I know in the neighborhood to use them, including strangers and purveyors of local businesses that I frequent. Some of you are really going to the effort, even hiking your bag of trash a half block away to the nearest blue bin (Marty, you're a champ). Some of you, you know who you are (and so do I, I'm smart like that), are too lazy to bother. So you don't bother because you've decided that the small effort it takes to set recyclable garbage aside and drop it into a different bin really isn't worth it to conserve materials and keep that extra crap out of the landfill. Your few seconds of time that you hold so dear....I hope you're curing cancer, because anything less just makes you a giant asshole.

THE BIG ONE

You didn't think I'd let you all slide about your fucking cars, did you? For the record, I do not have a car. I am more than content not having a car. I like to be able to read or do the crossword when in transit; when you drive, all you can do is pay attention to driving. Plus, I don't get sucked out to boring activities in the suburbs nearly as often as I would if I was...how shall I put it....part of the huge horrible planet-killing problem.

I actually do have a nice moment here and there, and I will exhibit some kindness here by allowing the cat I'm calling out for spewing transportation fallacies to remain anonymous. This person, who lives within the realm of Chicagoland, actually said that public transportation in this country is terrible. EXCUSE ME?! My problems with this statement:
1.) Public transportation in Chicago and throughout the suburbs is pretty damn fantastic. We're no Paris, but we do a damn good job here where public transportation is concerned. Regardless of what the situation is in the rest of the country, this person lives here.
2.) How exactly would this person have any idea about the quality of public transportation when they never employ it. Ever. Any number of excuses can be made as to why a car is necessary in the suburbs and for work purposes, but that's not really the point here. The point here is statements made about a subject on which that person is ignorant. You know I love ya, boo, but this is the unvarnished truth.

And why would someone make such a statement, not based on fact or personal experience? Because it's just another stock excuse. Something to roll off the tongues of socially responsible people when they get called out on their choice to pollute. This goes back to the real reason for how fucked the environment has gotten: we choose to pollute. Even people living in the city and working in the city opt to drive a car. WE KNOW THE DAMAGE THEY CAUSE. There are other options available, yet people will opt for more comfort and seclusion and convenience. Because that's what we do, we're all a bunch of selfish dickheads. It's merely human nature to be so self-involved, but human nature is a double edged sword.

We homo sapiens are a lucky bunch: we have all this terrific brain power to adapt to our environment and make complicated leaps of logic to see big pictures. So, as selfish as we are, we also know better than to be so self-serving. We can put two and motherfucking two together and realize that all this unnecessary vehicle use is going to result in everybody being supremely fucked.

I'm not saying that you should drive your cars into the sea, but be a bit more judicious about using it. If you need to go two blocks away, get your off your soft ass and walk there. If it's two miles, walk. It's not like Americans couldn't do with more exercise and you don't even have to pay for a gym membership. The worst offenders are in the suburbs, for the sole reason that there is parking for your pollution-machine anywhere you'd like to go. Anybody notice all that congestion on the expressways? Well, the next time your doughy suburban ass wants to come into the city on some sort of leisure expedition, take the train. It's clean, it's safe, and there are far fewer fumes to inhale than sitting in gridlock on the highway. If you work a job in the city that doesn't require constant travel during the day, take the train to work. Everyday. Every one of you that can.

For the love of all that is evil, DO NOT PURCHASE AN SUV!
I know you think they look cool, and everybody's got one, and you just have to be just like everyone else - but please, I beg you, do not buy a giant pollution-monster when you have absolutely no need for one. Here comes another harsh, but apt, judgement: PEOPLE WHO DRIVE SUVs TO LOOK COOL ARE THE WORST SORTS OF SCUM. Nope, I won't take it back. If you're reading this and thinking about your super-huge asshole-mobile sitting in the garage: you are a bad person. No getting around it, you suck. You've opted to trash the environment extra just so you can indulge your vanity. We can still be friends, but you need to know that you're an asshole.

WRAP IT UP ALREADY

I've blathered on even more than I usually do, but this is an important message. In a time where everyone wants to jump on the latest pet cause, keep your eyes on what's important and what you can do to actually make a difference. We don't get a second chance if we fuck this up.

I hope I've made you angry.

Oh, you're more than welcome to be angry with me for anything I've said. The line starts around the block. I hope you're angry with yourselves, too; I know I am. I could do more and do better. Imagine what we could accomplish if we all did more, if we all took a stand against trashing the environment and held ourselves and other people to this standard. Don't be quiet about it, take some action. Stop letting all this shit slide.

If you like anything I've said here, please repost it anywhere you like. Shove the shit in everyone's faces so they can get a good whiff of the horrible stench we've created.

Jillian

Hillary, you're pissing me off...and why Scientologists are stupid.

2007-06-26T06:35:00.000-07:00

Ya know, I don't want to hate you, Hillary. I would love to throw my hat in the ring with what could be the first female president. But I swear to God woman, you make it really fucking hard.

I was watching the news last night....well, actually I was reading a book and the news was on, but I caught the important stuff. I was half listening to a feature about my man B's new campaign commercials. Ya'll bitches know I love Obama, and I respect his consistent push for bipartisanship. It's vital that Democrats and Republicans stop thinking their job is to act like bickering toddlers and do some fucking work already. Anyhoo, Barack's new commercial features some prominent Republican dude not getting smeared, but actually endorsing Obama.

[Yes, I grant that my detailing of this case could be better, but this page isn't about politics. You want some proper politics, just sweep your eyes over to the right side of the page and click on Bridget's blog. All the politics you can handle. Hell, you can call her up and talk about politics for hours, I'll give you her number. She's very pretty and single too, I may be able to convince her to take you to Taco Bell...]

So I hear this bit on the news and I'm all "Good for you, B! Way to build bridges and play nice with others. You truly are a shining example of all that's good in this world." The news broadcast cuts back to the reporter who is providing Hillary Clinton's take on the new ads:

"Republicans will do anything to avoid running against Hillary Clinton in 2008"

WHAT? DID I HEAR THAT CORRECTLY? OH MY GOD! Hillary, seriously, you're killing me. I might have even been tempted to support you over Obama (unlikely, but possible), and you go and act like an arrogant shithead. Really. And don't even get me started on your choosing Celine Dion for your campaign song. That bitch is Canadian! You may as well have just picked some Ravi Shankar, to truly appeal to your demographic: middle-aged white former hippies who like to think of themselves as progressives but have come to the realization that they still don't like black people much. A hurtful assertion? Yes, but Hillary, your attitude needs some serious fixing.

On to other obnoxious things...

Let's play a game. Pretend, if you will, that the whole theory of evolution and basically every other scientific principle is out the window. Humans were transplanted and grown on this planet by aliens. Oh yes, you heard me correctly. If you take a rewired Easy-Bake Oven and attach some electrodes to it, you can measure your alien vibrations. Tom Cruise is an adherent. Does all of this sound completely nuts to you? Of course it does, because it is completely nuts.

Scientology is really stupid. I could go to the effort of putting together a smart and cogent attack on this "religion", but it's so unnecessary. These bitches do all the work for me. How about a list? Here you go...

Why Scientology is Stupid

1.) The Evil Lord Xenu

"Um, so your 'god' is an ancient alien named Xenu? Who's going to return and take you all away on his intergalactic space bus? Uuuuuuuuuuh, alright."
How could anyone take anything called fucking Xenu seriously? And alien worshipers are crazy.

2.) L. Ron Hubbard

Christian: "My faith was started by a man named Jesus, around 2000 years ago. People say he did miracles and was the true son of god. The book his buddies wrote about him is the most published and translated book in the world."

Jew: "My faith is very ancient as well, begun by the prophet Moses in accordance with god's law. The Torah is pretty damn popular too. Have I mentioned we're The Chosen People?"

Muslim: "Muhhamed is a true prophet of Allah, and that cat Jesus was also god's prophet. A whole shit load of people are real real into Islam, it's the fastest growing religion in the world."

Scientologist: "My religion was started in the 1950's by a science-fiction writer with more than a few screws loose. Our god is an alien named Xenu."

3.) Scientologists hate gays

I was at the Pride Parade this weekend, and I defy anyone to hate a 9ft drag queen with the tenacity to sport a full length ball gown and a huge feathered headdress in 90 degree weather. Not possible.

4.) Scientologists hate science

You would think a cult (yeah, I said it) with 'science' in it's name would be into, you know, science. Alas, no. Modern medicine? Phooey! Where's my Easy-Bake Oven? That can cure anything with it's super alien love rays. Psychiatric drugs? those just make you kill people. Autism? never heard of it, my kid is just shy. I got some news for you freaks: the only way your wacky devices are going to cure anything is if you turn them on high and stick them under the sofa until you all die in a fiery inferno. Honestly, shit like this makes Creationists look reasonable.

5.) The Celebrity Factor

I would think that if you're famous and also crazy, you might want to keep it under wraps that you do insane shit like worshiping aliens. Or, at least, your publicist would want to keep that under wraps so as not to frighten every single person anywhere you go. But my, those Scientologists love to buck convention. Tom Cruise anyone? Bitch hasn't made a good movie in years and years, instead relegating his entertainment career to showing the public how he's quickly becoming completely unhinged.
John Travolta? Oh, evil lord Xenu, will you please keep that man from opening his mouth? And, also, could you possibly keep him from going in public ever as well? I know that seems harsh and a bit oppressive, but I think you'll understand that he's not helping your cause. I know he's high profile, but he does look like this when he's doing photo calls for big-budget movies he is in...

Yes, my friends, that is a wig. A bad wig, in fact, with very obvious lace showing. There really is no excuse.

In other wacky Scientology news, Tom Cruise is slated to star in some movie about the guy that tried to assassinate Hitler. However, Germany (the entire country of Germany) won't allow them to film there because Tom Cruise is a Scientologist and those bitches are batshit crazy. No, really, that was their reason. Who wants to move to Germany?

Where I come from, they call me....
Jalien

I made a tomato!

2007-06-21T06:54:00.000-07:00

I have a long and illustrious history of murdering houseplants. I imagine it was some sort of curse or hex that I hadn't been able to shake until recently. Yes, indeed, I have successfully kept numerous plants alive for almost 2 months. My tiny windowsill farm has actually been thriving. Meet the players...

The Farm
My completely made up and unsubstantiated philosophy about raising flora is that they should be treated like pets. So I give them names, talk to them, and take them outside sometimes. In order of their arrival...
Lando Calrissian
-Lando is a sweet basil that I just couldn't resist buying at the little nursery on California that I walk by all the time. It's not that I don't like plants, I like them very much. I just couldn't seem to keep them alive for any reason. I figured I could go ahead and drop the $2.50 on Lando and, if it looked like he was going downhill, I could just eat him. Seems harsh, but that's natural selection for ya. Shockingly, Lando didn't die immediately, and I've been enjoying fresh basil on everything for 2 months. My deal with myself was that if I could keep one plant alive for 2 weeks, I could get some more. So I did...
Iphigenia
-Iphigenia is a small rosemary plant. She still looks reasonably healthy, but I took a few big sprigs off to make rosemary foccacia and she hasn't grown them back at all. Whatever, atleast she's not dead.
Orestes
-Yes, there is a theme here for you astute, well read folks. I had major concerns when I acquired Iphigenia and Orestes that the plants would still kick it pretty quickly. So as not to get my hopes up, I named these two after the doomed children of Agamemnon, for I feared they would lead tragic lives. [If you're unfamiliar with the reference, go look it up. And pay more attention in school.] Anyhoo, Orestes is a small tomato plant. I don't know the exact variety, but it's short and squat and produces 3-4 ounce fruit. When I picked him up, he already had a few tiny green tomatoes growing. Now there are at least a dozen fruits, 3 of which have already turned orangey and one that is nearly ripe! I expect it will be ready to harvest in a few days, and I've named it Baby Jesus because this is a goddamn miracle.
Hydra
- True to it's name, Hydra is a sprawling, many-headed chive plant. Seems to be doing quite well and, frankly, chopped chives are tasty on nearly everything. Not holding up as well is...
Medusa
- Medusa looked like a very hardy and somewhat overgrown oregano. Terrific addition to the farm, I thought. Eh, not so much. Medusa lasted about a week. The first truly hot day we got, over 90, Medusa just dried up where she sat. Or turned to stone, hahahahahaha! Okay, that wasn't even funny and I was a bit hurt by Medusa's untimely demise.
Jengo Fett
- To ease my heartbreak from Medusa's passing, I went and got another plant. Lando was looking a bit sparse because of all the trimmings I was taking off, so I figured I would bolster my basil supply by getting another plant. I'm crazy, and Lando and Jengo are both basils, so I concluded they are brothers and named them accordingly. Lando and Jengo, sounds cute right? Maybe that's what I'll name my kids.

I'm thinking about getting a whole slew of tomato plants, considering my success with Orestes. I love tomatoes, I eat several a day. If I had another 15 tomato plants, I may even be able to maintain my own supply of that delicious fruit. I'll just have to keep their names straight.

E I E I O,
Farmer Jillian

Dammit, I can't find my rainbow glitter hotpants anywhere!

2007-06-20T08:43:00.000-07:00

Pride.

The Gay Pride Parade, if you're unfamiliar, is the most insane event of the year in Chicago. I just adore crazy shit so, naturally, I'm a regular attendee. I'm still not gay (sorry ladies), but I sympathize with my little pansy brothers and sisters and they sure do know how to throw a party. And get dressed for said party. And rainbows are pretty.

The Schedule:
The actual Parade is Sunday afternoon, starting around 1:00pm, but there is plenty more to attend to in the days prior. The big stand out event this year (for me anyway) is an LGBT fundraiser at Sidetrack on Friday for the one and only B-Man. Those of you who aren't his BFF may know him as Barack Obama, antichrist and proponent of truth and justice. It's a $20 for entry and 2 drinks as well as appetizers, which is a pretty solid deal and it's an excellent cause. So you better fucking show up. Additionally, I have one lunatic friend who likes to take me to Sidetrack, auspiciously for the alcoholic slurpies they feature (uh huh). And they are quite delicious, I recommend 'purple'. The event is 6:00 - 8:00pm, Happy Hour!

Other activities are still getting worked out, but the Chicago Gay Men's Chorus is playing the fest stage at 1:20pm on Saturday and...fuck it, I'll just post the schedule. You can tell me how helpful I am when we're doing shots in the afternoon:

Main Stage
5 p.m.: Kathy "Sister" Sledge

Community Stage
noon: Clark Street Band
1 p.m.: Gay Shakespeare
1:20 p.m.: Chicago Gay Men's Chorus
2 p.m.: Chicago Spirit Parade
2:30 p.m.: Naked Boys Singing
3:20 p.m: ROTC
3:45 p.m.: Shamelessboyz
6:30 p.m.: Devin and the Straights
8 p.m.: Kimi Hayes

Jun. 23: 11 a.m. - 9 p.m.

Price: $5 donation benefits the Northalsted Area Merchants Association

Phone: 773-868-3010

IN OTHER NEWS...

I went to the Cubs game last Friday. It was awful.

Not much more really needs to be said about it, but I give you what you want here. And what I imagine you want is a list of reasons why you should never go to a Cubs game. Seriously, if I was being held at gunpoint, I'd just take the damn bullet and hope for the best.

1.) Wrigley Field is a revolting cesspool
Listen, I know I'm a bit of a primadonna. I hate camping, I'm not super wild about getting dirty, but I certainly don't think dirt will kill me and I try not to complain. Hell, I've waded through ankle-deep garbage on Bourbon St. during Mardi Gras and had a great time. Wrigley Field, on game day, is easily as bad as Bourbon St. during Mardi Gras. However, I had the forewarning and presence of mind to not to wear sandals to the French Quarter. I was getting harassed by my two lovely companions (Brooke and Cortney) because I wouldn't just throw my garbage on the ground and wandered around for 10 minutes looking for a garbage can. And you know what? I didn't fucking find one. Perhaps this is why there is garbage everywhere, like snowdrifts against the sides of the bleachers. NASTY. Nasty nasty nasty nasty. When we left the bleachers, my toes were sticky and a peanut shell was stuck between two of them. Ew.

2.) Baseball is boring
I know I don't like baseball, but someone must have slipped me something wacky when I gleefully accepted the invitation to go to the game. No bother, it doesn't hurt to try something new, right? Granted, I did spend a good portion of the time we were there doing a crossword puzzle, to the unnecessary dismay of an old woman sitting behind us (bitch, mind your own business. Would you rather I were trying to break your hip instead of sitting quietly? Didn't think so.). I thought I knew at least a little about the game, but it seemed every time I opened my mouth, something amazingly stupid would come out. Apparently, baseball does not have a halftime. Nor are the points called "points", they are called "runs". And if you think there is a gaggle of policemen on the field, they are not policemen. They are referees. Brooke and Cortney mocked me mercilessly and got people in surrounding seats to laugh at me too. I didn't mind being the butt of jokes, as watching the game progress is akin to watching the grass on the field grow.

3.) It was hot and really really sunny
I can take the heat, but my pale shit bursts into flames in the sun. Not a huge problem, I just slather on many coats of spf 50 and huddle in the shade somewhere. The problem with heat and sun is other people. Specifically, male people who remove their shirts to expose a plethora of horrors. Rolls of fat, back hair (!), or the dreaded hairy chest/pierced nipples combination. I understand that MTV and globalization have conspired to bring fringe fashion to the sweaty, Wrigley field attending masses - and I don't much care. Punk died ages ago, and there is plenty of weird yet to be innovated. My only issue on this topic is that this new slew of weirdo wannabes does such a shit job of interpreting the punky fads. For chrissakes, I have never gone into a bondage club and seen men with pierced nipples who didn't also do the world a fucking favor and shave their damn chests. A furry forest with a few shiny rings poking through is not a good look. Shit, people, work with me here. Help me help you.

4.) Suburbanites
I have a theory about suburbanites, would you like to hear it? Of course you would! My theory is that certain breeds of suburbanites (ie the ones that only hike into the city for Cubs games or any and all old people) have a particular opinion of city folk. They seem to believe that city folk act like goddamn rude animals because it's the big scary city and they don't spend much time here. So, when in the city, they act like goaddamn rude animals by pushing and shoving everyone everywhere they go and not observing any type of reasonable courtesy. Courtesies like walking on the right side of the sidewalk, and not walking 4 or 5 abreast, effectively blocking the entire sidewalk. Also, not stopping and blocking the path of people on the street, trying to exit or enter barthrooms and bars, and not getting out of the fucking way when people ask nicely for you to do so.
The funny thing is that the suburbanites attempting to blend by acting like assholes only set themselves apart as suburbanite assholes. City people tend to be more courteous than suburbanites. This is because city people have no choice but to interact with a much larger amount of people on a daily basis than those shitbags tooling around the burbs in their SUVs and never spending more time on the sidewalk than it takes to get the morning paper or the mail. City people are more polite because it's necessary for all our collective sanity (or what tenuous grasp we may have on it). In summation, would it kill you to say "excuse me"? No, it won't, but I'll probably kill the next middle aged white man that rudely shoves me out of his way.

5.) I hate white people
That doesn't really require explanation.

Hanging with Brooke and Cortney was good fun, and Cortney's friends were delightful too although I can't remember their names for the life of me). I also like beer, and we had some.

Honorable Mention:
Erin and Jason's housewarming party last Saturday. There were thrills and chills and fun for the whole family, if your family is a bunch of shit-faced twentysomethings. I still can't get my new Latin Kings tattoo off.

Hey man, gay man, pick up the soap,
J-Illin

Public television is letting the terrorists win

2007-06-16T09:02:00.000-07:00

You know I tackle the tough subjects here. No topic is too contentious, too provocative for me to shy away from. I won't be frightened away from my journalistic duty.

I'm saddened and dismayed to find out that PBS has turned to the dark side. I have a special place in my heart for PBS and their usually excellent programming. Nova is on the cutting edge of science, Nature is consistently providing novel views into animal behavior, and the cooking shows (albeit noticeably absent is a vegetarian cooking show, what the shit PBS?) are among some of the finest around. Even with the popularity of the Food Network and shrieking gremlins like that Rachel Ray and other "personality chefs", PBS offers us dignified professionals with an international elan and a passion for their craft. And no-one is shouting "Bam!" as he sweats crystal meth into the gumbo.** Such is why I'm so disappointed to report that Andrew Vierstad may have been replaced.

You all know the delectable and charming Mr. Vierstad from his superb program, Scandinavian Cooking. He is by far my favorite TV chef. Andrew's delightfully (and mildly) accented cadence takes us around the world to various obviously frigid locales to prepare local favorites with a sophisticated enthusiasm that's never to precious or overly reliant on cute acronyms (I'm talking about you, Ray). To further highlight the cuisine and environment, Andrew typically prepares his dishes outside while donning designer parkas (hot!). Scandinavia is oftentimes, you know, really really cold but that does not hinder our brave Mr. Vierstad. He copes by taking swigs of whatever alcohol he's using in the ingredients to stay warm, and this merely adds to his charm and understated swagger. Swear to god, I saw him chugging cooking sherry one time.

So imagine my shock when I tune in to Scandinavian Cooking this morning, and there is no Andrew (aka my future husband). Instead, the show is New Scandinavian Cooking, hosted by Claus Meyer. CLAUS MEYER!!??! Who the fuck is that? PBS has decided to camp shit up with this bright plaid shirted clown, who's invective is mere shades away from outright psychotic raving. Enthusiasm is good, lunatic arm flailing and a seeming incapacity to control the volume of one's voice is bad (take note, Rachel). Maybe The Vierstad was just to subtle for PBS, so they decided to go with more vocal accent. The problem with this is that Claus sounds substantially more Germanic than Scandinavian, and it is terribly unnerving. Imagine Arnold Schwarzenegger waiving his arms and shouting "Fish cakes! Don't burn the fish cakes!". It's bad enough that an overzealous Austrian meathead has taken over California, but my beloved Scandinavian Cooking as well? The horror, the horror...

Considering this recent turn of events, I can come to only one reasonable conclusion: Austria is the enemy, and we must do all we can to defeat them. It appears as though Austria has finally thrown their hat in the ring, choosing the side of the Axis of Evil in America's generally fruitless and destructive smackdown in the middle east. I also believe that they have abducted my beloved Andrew Vierstad and are holding him prisoner in an underground compound, torturing him by ripping out his fingernails or playing "The Safety Dance" very loud.

This is a sad turn of events, my friends. Please aid my in my campaign to bring democracy to the world and free Andrew by sending your angry letters to PBS. Don't let Austria prevail. Don't let the terrorists win.

Your partner in freedom,
Jillian

**I'm sure you know who I'm talking about, that fat fuck Emeril Lagasse. Here is a special treat for you all, some celebrity gossip that's not just hurtful lies: Emeril is an obnoxious faker. He is from New Jersey, not New Orleans - the city his entire career capitalizes on. I could take that, but he takes it too far. Aside from demanding that employees in his restaurants be New Orleans natives, he forces them to watch training videos about what it means to be from New Orleans. And he's from Jersey. Asshole. [Info provided from someone who underwent said torture]. Also, I went to one of his restaurants in New Orleans with 4 other people, and everyone hated their food.

Oprah, Dr Phil, still gay

2007-06-14T10:22:00.000-07:00

Hello, my young friends! I hope you are all in fine health and spirits today, and you're feeling the divine love of Jesus.

Just kidding, Jesus is stupid.

I know I haven't posted in a while, but I'm extremely popular and it's hard to find the time to regale you with my exploits between the summer parties and events. The life of a socialite is not an easy one, not to mention that I think I'm allergic to the rose petals everyone has been throwing at my feet. But I don't let such adversity stop me! I take a Claritin and soldier on!

So, what have I been up to? I'll give you a hint: it starts with a 'd' and ends with 'rinking'. Let's just work back from the present, for as much as I can remember.

LAST NIGHT: YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHO I SAW AT A GAY CRUISING SPOT!
I went to Sidetrack last night with a friend of mine and, unbeknownst to us, it happened to be the club's 25th anniversary party. Yes indeed, 25 years of clumsy drunk hand jobs between strangers in the men's room deserves a gala event serving alcoholic slurpies in a rainbow (ahem) of colors. Purple was my favorite, although red and orange were not without merit. It was a star-studded event to be sure, let's look at the roster:
-- Rog from Good Times has gotten very gay and apparently is hurting for cash, as he was bartending on the second level in some precious khaki shorts and shaking his thang to Carrie Underwood.
-- Every man who has ever touched Paris Hilton's genitalia was there as, unsurprisingly, they are now all homosexual.
-- George Clooney was on the roof top patio, looking smug and debonair at first but dissolving into tears after none of the guys were interested in taking him up on his offers for a rim job. I bet he was kicking himself for not putting a little makeup on that nasty lip sore.
-- Someone I was indifferent to last night, but officially dislike now, showed up: Chicago's own Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy. My date reported, after he returned from the restroom, that Pete had set up a deli-style ticket dispenser in one of the stalls to handle the volume of his gentleman callers. Amusing, all of his 'dates' looked like your dad and Pete was actually paying them.
-- Oprah, who never misses an opportunity to swing her penis around in public, was doing just that in the first floor video lounge. Patrons could hear her publicist shouting "Dammit, Orson, there are still people in this city that believe you're a woman! Can you put that thing away, please!". Dr. Phil accompanied "her", naturally, and was appalled by this display. He could be heard to comment "That bitch! I'm not going to get any cock now that Oprah is showing off her giant trouser snake! I just can't compete. Oh no, Phil, that's not the right kind of attitude. Tough love, tough love! [dumb hick motivational cliche], [dumb hick motivational cliche], [dumb hick motivational cliche]! Gay men will like me just as much, time to get suckin!". You keep that positive attitude, Phil. I've heard plenty of twinks go for doughy and ignorant.

I also hit up The Tonys last week. In a move everyone seemed to expect, I was given every single award, including Ensemble Cast for my multiple personalities. I've taken my name out of contention for next year, as early critiques of my one-woman production of The Sound of Music are even more complimentary than my hugely popular production of Hair: The Musical where I play every part. The word was that the show's producers found my rendering of Twyla Tharp's choreography "transcendent, absolutely earth-shattering". I wouldn't want a repeat of the same scene next year, spread the love a little, you know. And for the record: Hugh Jackman, I will not accept your petition to be my new cabana boy. I'm holding out for Taye Diggs or Steve, no substitutions allowed.

Alrighty, my cats and kittens, I've got much work to attend to and I'll have to end the narrative here. My comrades and I are going to catch an outdoor movie screening this evening and I have to find a picnic blanket and make finger sandwiches.

Ta for now,
J

Celebrity Gossip of the Day!

2007-05-25T11:27:00.000-07:00

HOT BREAKING NEWS: Dick Cheney was caught raping the bloated corpse of Jerry Falwell. In his defense, Cheney responded "well, that tease would never give it up when he was alive and he honestly doesn't look any different."

MADONNA EATS BABIES!: Have you noticed how Madonna looks a bit like she should be living under a bridge lately? It's no coincidence! After giving up Kabbalah and having no luck getting into Scientology (she's too creepy for them), Madonna has a new religion: Ogreism. Madonna is now an ogre and, as is made painfully obvious by the state of her mug, she is embracing this new philosophy wholeheartedly. She decided on this new path when it became terribly clear that she wasn't going to garner any good publicity for her African baby purchase. She had to put that cute little baby to some use and, you guessed it: she ate him! Waste not, want not, Madge!

SCIENTISTS HAVE PROVEN....ice cream only has 10% of the fat and calories if you smoke it instead of eating it.

OPRAH, A CYBORG?: You betcha! Dr. Phil, however, is not a cyborg. He's merely a pudgy old cracker that is stupid enough to take orders from a talk-show hosting cyborg. Idiot.

MARY-KATE AND ASHLEY TO UNDERGO CUTTING EDGE SURGERY: Twins Mary-Kate and Ashley Olson, encouraged by recent innovations in separating conjoined twins, have opted to undergo a new groundbreaking procedure: they are planning to become conjoined twins! Since they're basically one person anyway, it only makes sense to inhabit a single body. The details are: each twin will have one leg removed, as well as part of their livers, and be fused down their sides up to the waist. The arms on both twins will be left intact, so as to treat the public with highly amusing conjoined-twins slap fights.

ANGELINA JOLIE QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"I like my kids like I like my beer: imported. Domestic children don't have that full bodied flavor that I crave."
Yes, that's right, Angelina Jolie eats children. Hanging out with Madonna much?

BLAKE LEWIS DEAD!: Blake Lewis, runner-up for this year's American Idol crown, was murdered by an angry mob shortly after the live announcement show. On the show, Blake appeared in a duet with Doug E. Fresh, thought by many to be the original beat-boxer and infinitely more awesome than Lewis could ever dream to be. A mob of old school hip hop afficionados grabbed Blake as he was exiting the Kodak theater. Shouts could be heard from the assembled rioters, "I'll show you BEAT BOXING, you little wannabe bitch!", as they proceeded to beat him to death with boxes.

LOCAL NEWS: The International Mr. Leather competition is being held in Chicago this weekend. The early favorite to take home the title is our own Intern Steven! Come out and show your support for a hometown boy in assless chaps!

What does Memorial Day weekend mean to you?

2007-05-25T10:00:00.000-07:00

To me, it means the International Mr. Leather Competition.

Yes, this is real, and it happens every summer in the Chi. Go Downtown (downtown proper, not stupid suburban I-call-every-part-of-the-city-downtown-because-I'm-dumb) any evening this weekend, and you will see flocks of leather daddies on the streets. Shocking and delightful! I mean, when do you ever see leather daddies downtown, and in such amazing numbers?

I know I've been a bit negligent on the postings here this week, but I've had a terrible head cold. Being sick makes me about 83% meaner on average, so it's not that evil has left the building along with my good health. Evil hasn't left the building, and neither have I. I haven't been hitting the streets to menace middle age hippies with retarded petitions (against 'bad juju' or some other hippie nonsense. stupid hippies...I have a story here, I'll share it eventually), interacting with drug dealers in the 'hood, or getting made fun of by homeless folks. I've been inside, working and being crabby. I hate being sick. Life sucks, I hate everything.

Alright, got that out of my system, back to the major problem at hand: International Mr. Leather. My comrade, Sleepy, wants to attend the Black & Blue Ball on Monday night (blue ball! heehee!). So the quandary is thus: What do I wear?

I know, I know, those of you lacking vision will, of course, say that I should go with bondage gear or leather at the least. Evil lord Satan knows I wouldn't have to go shopping, but it just seems so ....OBVIOUS. It's adorable to hear kids say they're bucking convention by dressing goth or punk or whatever it is people do these days, but it's really just choosing a different culture to conform to. Hey kiddies, how different are you REALLY when all your friends look exactly the same as you (and not a one of you is doing anything innovative, by a long shot)? That's just a somewhat unrelated aside, but the point is that I'd rather go against convention than just go along with the crowd - even if the crowd in question is a lot of men in leather harnesses and assless chaps. So...the options for the Black & Blue Ball are:

1.) Cheerleader
--I have this nutty, super super short, micropleated mini skirt in baby pink that I've just been waiting on a proper event to work. I got it for a dollar at a yard sale and loved the hell out of it, but it's too short and too pleated and too pink to get away with in everyday vernacular. Also, I've got plenty of junk in my trunk (eat your hearts out bitches!) and it looks kind of like an opaque tutu - very costumey. All I'll need is some ponpoms (does anyone out there have a pair?), white sneakers, and some kind of jersey. Plus, I look darling in pigtails.

2.) Prim 50's Housewife
--The antidote to leather daddies, I just need some little white gloves.

3.) The Devil
--Why only rock the devil horn's on Halloween? I could fabricate a new pair in black and blue in homage to the ball. Seems a little too on their mark though, and I would prefer to go against the grain.

4.) Indian Princess
--I don't think this would do, but I rarely get to sport my sari and it's extremely comfortable (and sparkly). Plus, massive amounts of giant gold Indian jewelry.

I'm leaning towards Cheerleader right now. Maybe I can borrow a bullwhip from my neighbors down the street and do Bondage Cheerleader, I'd really like to wear that ridiculous skirt. I may just have to get Intern Steven over here for a little fashion show. I can see the scene in my head already: I'm halfway inside the closet, hurling fabulous garment upon fabulous garment at Intern Steven while he wobbles about trying to support a giant pile of clothing in his arms and dodging shoes as they go whizzing past his head. The other scene I see is Intern Steven languishing on the couch, cigarette in one hand, dry martini in the other, looking too cool and inherently blase. Sip of cocktail, drag of cigarette, one cocked eyebrow, and the line "Jillian, doll, you could be wearing a garbage bag and everyone would look like they attired themselves in roadkill next to you." You're so right, Steven.

Pray to Satan for my speedy recovery,
J Killa

THE DEVIL PAGE Top 10!

2007-05-17T12:28:00.000-07:00

Hi there everybody,

It's a slow day over here at Evil HQ, so I've been indulging in some celebrity gossip online. Aside from the fact that I have no clue who most of the people they're talking about are, it appears to be Celebrity Rating Season once again. I know, I know, it seems like it was only minutes ago that a bunch of self-impressed brain trusts with better than average looks patted themselves on the back for something or another...oh wait, it probably was only minutes ago considering how many awards shows these idiots like to throw for themselves.

Anyhoo, a number of magazines that I don't read have compiled lists of who they think is the most beautiful or sexy or whatever, because lord Satan knows that the only interesting thing about anyone is what they look like. Boy oh boy, did they get it wrong though. Apparently, Lindsay Lohan is the sexiest woman alive, but that's only because I refused to appear in the magazine that writes the list (shit, if you want nearly nude photos of me, you'll just have to hide in the bushes outside my windows like everyone else, dammit!).
HOT CELEBRITY GOSSIP! Lindsay Lohan has Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy, also known as Mad Cow Disease. Even more shocking: she caught it from Oprah! Even even more shocking: Oprah got it from eating Dr. Phil who, as everyone knows, is a mad cow.

I've decided to compile my own list because, as everyone knows, my taste is nonpareil. For your enjoyment, I present....

JILLIAN'S TOP 10 HOT ASS BITCHES

1.) Henry Rollins
Oh Henry, how do I adore thee? It's been a while since we've spoken, and I know now that it was a mistake to dump you for Brad Pitt. He's got nothing on you, baby (and all he wanted was my superior genes for his breeding experiment. Hope you like my leftovers, Angelina!).

2.) Hot Nerd
There is some show on about FBI guys that solve crimes or something, I have no idea what it's called, but there is one seriously hot nerd on that show. I love me a hot nerd.
*I have done some research and Hot Nerd, shockingly, is not actually named "Hot Nerd". His name is Matthew Grey Gubler (even the name sounds nerdy, be still my heart!) and the show is Criminal Minds.

3.) Christian Bale
Hey "Batman", make some more movies where you run around naked. Thanks.

4.) David Stuckey
If you've not yet heard of this Social Worker turned Male Model turned Astrophysicist turned Actor, just you wait! He's going to be EVERYWHERE once his show "Walker, Texas Ranger: The Early Years" debuts. It showcases Walker (texas ranger) in his wild youth as a gay Chicago scenester and his subsequent spell at a Christian de-gaying camp that turns him into the steely eyed lawman you all know and love.

5.) Nick Cave
Yeah, I know dude's ugly, but he has more talent in his schlong than everybody on all of those other lists plus a thousand. I know this from experience, heh heh heh.

6.) David Boreanaz
He has some show on tv these days, blah blah blah. I recall his deliciousness from the esteemed Hot Man and Monster Show (although their press offices keep trying to convince me the show was called "Angel" or some nonsense).
Honorable Mentions
- British Hot Man from The Hot Man and Monster Show
- Black Hot Man from The Hot Man and Monster Show
- Bleached Blonde Hot Man from The Hot Man and Monster Show

7.) All the dudes in The Covenant
While I admit that the plot left much to be desired, as well as the acting and special effects and....well, you get my point....the one thing this movie didn't scrimp on was scantily clad "teenage" boys. And they are good looking. Jailbait-licious I would be tempted to say, if the actors playing highschool students weren't actually in their late twenties. Any possible opening for these talented actors (by "talented", I mean "foxy") to remove their clothes, the makers of this movie had them do so. So to you, makers of The Covenant, a salute! May you continue to make soft-core porn for girls, passing it off as "supernatural thrillers", for the rest of your days.

8.) Seth MacFarlane
You know how women say that a good sense of humor is more important than looks? They ain't lying. In case you're hopelessly out of touch, Seth writes and produces Family Guy. Any day of the week, Seth. Call me.

9.) Neil Patrick Harris
I'm here to give you the straight facts (pun intended) about ol' Doogie's recent announcement that he's a big 'mo. I admit, I made him do it. Neil and I have been engaged in a steamy romance for many a moon, and my psychotic jealousy just got the best of me. Yes, ladies, I know he's a perfect specimen of manhood, but I wouldn't have had to take such drastic steps if women weren't running up to him and throwing their clothes off every time we went out in public. So I made him "come out of the closet" so we could get a little peace from the women stages SWAT-type attacks on the home we share in Paris. Now he has gay men shoving their cocks in his face constantly, but that doesn't bother me at all.

10.) Taye Diggs
I don't know if you actually have a job these days, but I've recently promoted my cabana boy to intern. I'm keeping the position open, waiting for your inevitable (and excited) call. Kisses, and make sure you wear your speedo to the interview.

There you have it, the only list worth listing.

I've got spirit, yes I do!

2007-05-17T10:31:00.000-07:00

Hey bitches,

This is the new official home of my hateful rantings! I know you're all so excited you could just pee and, trust me, I know how you feel. The world has been screaming out for more Jillian, and I certainly hate to disappoint my fans (not to mention the shouting outside my windows is reaching a fever pitch and even a hellspawn like myself needs her beauty sleep). Additionally, all cosmic signs pointed to auspicious beginnings this week. I finally cashed in on the soul of a certain doughy bigot that I bought a while ago; hope you're having fun with my buddies downtown, Falwell! All is well in the underworld, and it's time for me to take my message to the people!

Jillian the Devil

An open letter to Bill Gates

2007-05-17T10:25:00.001-07:00

Damn you, Bill gates! I know we had that falling out after I grabbed the last bottle of grapefruit juice at the Fruteria...I slapped you, you slapped me, then the hair pulling...but I thought we had put that behind us. Why do you feel the need to keep me from watching bad horror movies on netflix?

I attempt to use the new netflix features, and the site tells me I have to employ the dreaded Internet Explorer. Now, that's not hating on you personally, Bill: Internet Explorer sucks ass, you told me so yourself when we were in Vegas for our "girl's weekend". This was after you did a dozen body shots out of Kevin Federline's navel, so you might not remember clearly. Anyway, I open netflix with Internet Explorer and it says I don't have the right version. That's just fucking like you, Bill: I remember that time you saw my Louis handbag and thought you all clever saying "Uh, Jillian, that bag is so Version 4.0!". Catty bitch, I know you were just jealous (note to my readers: he was totally sporting Ugg boots at the time!).

I go to the Microsoft site to get whatever stupid downloads and patches I need to jimmy my system into not being obsolete after two minutes, and could you possibly pack any more black, small print text on these pages?! Bill, in case you're drunk while reading this (there's about a 200% chance of that), THAT WAS SARCASM. I go half blind trying to find the bullshit I'm looking for, and I get a new screen where you happily tell everybody that you need to "authenticate" my version of windows by sending me a bunch of spyware. This seems awfully familiar, like that time you installed hidden cameras in the men's room at Microsoft HQ to "authenticate" the rumors about the size of Rick's package.

I manage to download Internet Explorer 7, which is what netflix (must be owned by your new boyfriend) says I need to play bad horror movies, restart my computer, reopen Explorer, go to netflix....AND IT STILL SAYS THAT I DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT SOFTWARE! WHAT THE FUCK, BILL! I did everything I was supposed to, but am I enjoying The Hunger right now? NO, I'M NOT! So yes, I get it, very funny. You got me good this time.

In the spirit of reconciliation: I'm sorry I told everyone at the club that you looked like an over the hill streetwalker in that fuschia wig you were trying to rock, but "club kid" is just not a look that works for you. You left your rhinestone nameplate necklace in my car, I'm going to messenger it over right now along with a case of grapefruit juice (and a case of Bombay, you dirty lush ;) Please, please, please make my computer work. Besides, if you don't, I'm going to tell everyone what you and Jude Law were up to last weekend. I saw the stains!

Kisses,
Jillian

"I'm a cowboy!"

2007-05-17T10:24:00.000-07:00

Sunday, May 13, 2007

"I'm a cowboy!"

Oh, good lord. My father has a tendency to say ridiculous and also somewhat gay shit. My sister and I, being complete dicks, will make fun of him for years for some of the choice quips he treats us to. He knows he's gonna hear about it, but says these things anyway. Things like:

"Try the asparagus, it's quite refreshing!"

Or, while watching an old James Bond movie
"Wow, look at that upper body strength!" [gay!]

I certainly wouldn't want to neglect a staid Dooley tradition, so I offer the latest and possibly gayest one yet. My parents are visiting my godparents at their horse ranch in Arizona and my father just emailed me a video of him out riding. Sit please, and compose yourselves: the subject of the email is "I'm a Cowboy!". Dig that hole a little deeper, Dad.

Hell has frozen over

2007-05-17T10:23:00.002-07:00

Friday, April 13, 2007

Hell has frozen over

Why do you say that, Jillian? What unthinkable thing could possibly have occured?

Well, I'll tell you: the homeless in the 'hood actually complimented me on my attire today. I had a number of theories as to why they took such exception to my gear. Maybe they just hate bright colors, because their world is so dim. Perhaps they're color blind and, while they know I've got something eyeball-searing on, they cannot appreciated personally and are very bitter. Maybe they just don't like black people (like me), or maybe they just don't like me. Any number of possibilities for why these dudes are so fucking shitty to me all the goddamn time but, today, I got a definitive answer from the homeless' mouths.

A brief backstory: I was dressed this afternoon in a wholly different fashion than I normally opt for, ie a business suit. Not that unusual, per se, although my business suits tend to run towards bright colors as well or weird shapes (think sci-fi villain). I had an important meeting today, so I dug out a terribly conventional dark green pantsuit and paired it with black pumps and a black sweater. Conservative was the order of the day; hell, I was even wearing a watch (something I never do). This ensemble didn't look bad, of course, as I myself am mostly incapable of looking bad. It just looked boring, very very boring.

Naturally, I go to the effort of dressing as blandly as possible and the homeless go nuts over it. Moreover, they seemed rather shocked to see me dressing this way, as was evidenced in their comments: "Wow, you actually look nice today!". Jerks. I certainly didn't want to pass up a golden opportunity, so I took my chance and asked "So I don't normally look nice?"

THE VERDICT: The reply to my above query was thus: "You're a pretty girl, but you always look so damn weird." Trendy, I can be accused of. Slightly goth-rock, sure. Actual weird, however, I only really trot out a few times a year and it's certainly not even close to the average ordinary gear I throw on to grab a paper at the Fruteria. I guess the homeless are just terribly conservative in their clothing preferences. Awfully strange for a bunch of folks that typically smell like urine.

Everybody's a fucking critic,
J

I'm about to eat my words

2007-05-17T10:23:00.001-07:00

Thursday, April 05, 2007

I'm about to eat my words

Prepare yourselves, this doesn't happen often...

So, I'm watching The View. Well, not really watching so much as working while it's on the television behind me. The women hosting the show were talking about saying 'bitch' on television. I didn't realize you were allowed to say that on tv, but that just goes to show how out of touch I am. Anyhoo, one of the ladies was lamenting about how people still take offense to the term and her quote was fucking priceless:

"You're not allowed to say 'bitch' anymore, now you have to say 'Ann Coulter' "

Amazing! Notably, the other hosts on the show thought this was hysterical but the audience really didn't laugh at all. My guess is that the freaks showing up for a studio audience spot at The View are probably those middle America haters that voted in Bush twice, or they spend too much time watching The View and other tripe to actually have any idea what's going on in the news. Who cares, that comment slayed me. Red-haired lady on the view, you're the shit.

J

I'm crabby

2007-05-17T10:21:00.000-07:00

Thursday, March 22, 2007

I'm crabby

Yes, crabby. I've been going out too much lately and my brain is a little fried at this point in the week. I've been doing a lot of work, from home no less, which keeps me from being in the cheerful sunshine. I was hanging out with Brooke last night and our conversations always lean towards the weird. Add to that all of the art films I've been consuming lately, and the result is that I didn't get much sleep last night because I was having weird dreams about getting emails of pictures of strange naked men who can suck their own cocks. The dreams were so off and disturbing, I actually woke up and thought it really happened. So I'm a little crabby.

To indulge my shitty mood, here's a collection of bitchy things I read today:

Stop photographing yourself
. The majority of self-portraits are annoying and bad because humans are far too self-aware to photograph themselves in any sort of candid, honest way. Everyone puts on their photo face (usually mopey, serious, or blank), squints their eyes, and tries to look timid, shy, sensitive, and/or tough. It's really gay.

Don't go around the streets like happy-go-lucky all is right with the world brow lifted weird ocular "beaming" muscle engaged, light in the tip of your toes, hey look at him, hey look at me: I'm a fucking fraud leprechaun. [I add this in because it was basically me yesterday. 5 people called me a leprechaun and I was very self-satisfied in an obnoxious way. Go rainboots]

Would it kill you to not live like depressing Satan? Pedestal ashtrays piled with butts and a roommate named Andy who lives in a diaper he folded out of his curtain are totally unacceptable.

Don't take pride in your shitty work. You're like that Curlis Cue redhead my mom was dating who gave me a Curlis Cue toothbrush and windily explained how the curled bristles stimulate the gums. [Seriously, I don't even find what I do interesting]

Another day, more alleged strife at "The View:" Now, Elisabeth Hasselbeck apparently thinks Babwa has completely lost control over the show, and she's steaming mad that Rosie had a whole show devoted to her birthday.

According to Rush and Molloy, Elisabeth is still stewing over yet another on-air verbal smackdown from Rosie two days ago, and her anger only intensified yesterday, when the entire hour was all about Rosie's 45th birthday – the show was wall-to-wall Broadway musical numbers. What's more, says a R&M source, Hasselbeck "also thinks Barbara doesn't have any control over the show anymore." [I've included this so everyone can see how fucking ridiculous the women on that fucking abominable show are, not to mention how ridiculous the show itself is. Someone do the world a damn favor and off these bitches. It will cure cancer, I swear]

I think that's quite enough. I apologize for not being terribly interesting today. Hold on a sec: even at my worst, I'm still more interesting than most. Plus, if you've gotten this far, you've already read the entire post. You've wasted your own time, and I won't have any complaints about it. I'm going to go scowl now.

I hate everything,
Jillian

The Jackass Chronicles Pt. I

2007-05-17T10:17:00.000-07:00

[If I'm feeling particularly motivated, I'll move all the entries from my old blog over here to the new site. I can't guarantee such motivation, so you'll just have to be content with these few that I feel perfectly illustrate my unbelievable brilliance. Okay, everything I write does that, these are just the newest.]

Sunday, March 18, 2007

The Jackass Chronicles Pt. I

I really shouldn't be allowed to go out, and giving me booze should be upgraded to a federal offense.

It is now 1:30 in the afternoon and I'm still a little drunk from last night. I took Bridget out for her birthday last night: we decided on a seemingly mild mannered evening of wine bar and a show at Schubas. Brooke and Jack completed our entourage, and they showed up at my place around 6pm. I had already put back one cocktail by this point, and we gathered some alcoholic reinforcements from the Fruteria to wait for Bridget to show. Bridget is always late, so we had time to go through a few more drinks in the interim.

Gin Makes You Sin

I managed to behave myself at the wine bar, albeit I was drinking Viognier rather than my usual cocktail. I didn't menace anyone or throw glasses, but I reached critical alcohol mass halfway through my first pint at Schubas. Here's what happened:

We were suffering through the first band, and they were fucking awful. Additionally, they were all wearing various articles of women's clothing. Not fun party dresses ala Pansy Division like you'd expect from a band full of dudes that are doing some jokey crossdressing. It was more demure but that's not a good thing; it looked like they rooted around in a 60 year old woman's closet and just grabbed the first handful of whatever and put it on. I will give props to the trombone/guitar player for his thoroughly amusing dance-like marching and huge curled mustache drawn on with marker. His fly was also down for the whole show.

In any case, the music was shit and I took it upon myself to let them know. Not particularly loud, I said "Go away" rather blandly a few times after they finished songs. This dumbass bitch behind me took giant offense to this and felt compelled to tell me that "it's not easy to get up there and play, don't be insulting!" in her best Lincoln Park aghast at humanity tone. Now, I call her a dumbass bitch because I went from insulting the band to menacing her, but can you really blame me? She made herself a target. I looked her in the face and said "Shut the fuck up, you stupid cunt! Good lord, girl, you've got some nerve speaking your mind to me. Get gone now before I shove your ass in traffic." Naturally, she was shocked. Brooke asked me what was going on and I told her "the stupid bitch behind me had something dumb to say" and went back to drinking. I am nonchalantly cruel and mean.

We came to see Baby Dayliner and he was on next. He was being awfully slow "setting up" (come on, it's one dude and a suitcase, what's to set up?) so I heckled the poor guy. I said "Stop fucking around and play some music". I was only about 5 feet away and the look on his face when he turned around was priceless. Very surprised and also kinda pissed, then more surprised to see the perpetrator standing there smiling pleasantly at him.

Baby Dayliner put on a fantastic set, you all should have been there, and his dancing was off the hook. I decided to try to pick him up after the show. He's hot and I'm retarded, it was inevitable. I complimented his set, introduced myself, he introduced himself, and proceeded to make more eye contact with my tits than my actual face. I can't really blame him, he was poised on the stage for a great few down my dress which was very low cut to begin with (such is the reason I didn't get kicked out for menacing other patrons, heckling the bands, or smoking where I wasn't supposed to repeatedly. Oh, I also got into it with one of the bouncers because he accused Bridget of sneaking in the side door we were standing near during the show. I told him not to be such an asshole and to fuck off). Anyhoo, Baby Dayliner wouldn't come out drinking with us because he said he had to hang around for the headlining group and we were leaving right then. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

On a fun side note, the last time Bridget and I went to Schubas, we spent the night drinking with Mojo Nixon and the guys in his band. We had seen and met them all the night prior at a show they did in Batavia, and they demanded we go see them the next night too. It was tits: we walked into Schubas and Mojo stopped mid song to annouce to the crowd "Hey! There's the cool girls we met last night!". This would all probably be much more impressive if anyone I know actually knows who Mojo Nixon is. Shame on all of you, he did an album with Jello Biafra for chissakes.

We left Schubas to go meet some of Bridget's friends in Lincoln Square, where we managed to put back even more booze. Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind. Yep, I was singing the song in the bar with a few of the guys. I believe I told everyone I was black, and possibly also Snoop Dogg. People who know me hear crap like this all the time, but I had just met these dudes. We were all so damn lit, I can't imagine they took much notice.

After the bar closed, we hit up the nearest taqueria, where one of the dudes Bridget knows tried to cop a feel on her surreptitiously under the table. Can't really blame him either, we were all shitfaced and Bridget a pretty girl. However, he has a girlfriend, and no amount of drunkenness makes cheating on your girl or boyfriend allowable. Cad. Besides renaming Bridget's friend Jonas "The Great Pumpkin", I was about as well behaved as could be expected. I didn't hit anybody.

It was after 4am, me and B went back to my place to chill. I opted for another wildly inadvisable cocktail, likely leading to the surprisingly long lived drunk that I'm still enjoying now. Presently, Bridget and I are sitting in my living room screwing around on our respective computers, and Jody is on his way over to do the same. There's no tp in the house, but I'm hesitant to go out for more. My earlier trip into the outside world resulted in me calling someone a dickhead for blowing a stop sign, but I wouldn't have had to do that if he hadn't stopped his car to ask me why I gave him the finger.

St. Patrick's Day appears to make me crazier than usual, this is why I usually stay home.

Jillian, Resident Jackass