Tag Archives: Jack Black

…as continuing sagas tend to do.

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The continuing saga continues, as continuing sagas tend to do.

The woman upstairs is either clearly suffering from a brain tumor or a medical condition that causes her to have hyper-intense senses or is quite simply insane.

Two nights ago, in attempt to secure my love, my boyfriend brought me on a hot date to see Harry Potter part 7,30987. He didn’t want to go at all and he made enough comments to insure that I was fully aware of this. Still, despite my polite resistance he insisted he “let me do this for you”.

To be fair, he first offered to take me to see Burlesque but the pain in his voice was evident.

I suggested Due Date which looks stupid but has potential to at least be entertaining and not have CGI magic induced virtual pubescent make-out scenes in it.

“They say that Zak Galifianakis is supposed to be the new Jack Black you know…”

but the title scared him off.

So this is how wild and crazy we’ve become with old age maturity.

Please know that I am not only embarrassed to admit this to you but concerned for my own mental health as I watch the words fall from my fingertips to the screen before me. I really do have a full, wild and exciting life. I do!

We went to Commensal for a healthy vegetarian meal. Then went to the cinema to watch the 3 billionth installment of Harry Potter.

We arrived home at approximately 24:15 talked about snakes and special effects for about 15 minutes, tolerated half of a song performed by GWAR on the Jimmy Fallon show (volume 2) which naturally led to a 5 minute conversation about my embarrassment for having *slept with the singer when I was young enough that my breasts were more developed than my brain (which I suspect may still be the case but that’s for another day…)

This leading to Franky’s 4 second attempt at digging more garbage out of my closet followed by a 1 1/2 second beat down with a pillow and silence.

So… about 22 minutes and 4 1/2 seconds of vocal communication that occurred in my house after dark on Friday night before we passed out cold.

2 AM the door bell rings. I am startled awake.

Only 1 out of 3 of my children are in the house tonight.

I see police at the door and flashlights through the window.

I try to swallow my stomach back down from my throat as I fumble for the lock.

The last time the police were at my door, they came bearing news that smashed me square in the face and turned my family’s entire life upside down.

“Yes?”

“M’am, we’ve had a complaint about noise coming from your apartment”

“What?”

They crane their necks to peek into my pitch black and completely silent flat.

“Did you hear any loud noises? Lots of people? Blasting music? Banging and crashing?”

“I was asleep”

Our stupid kitten took advantage of this moment to make a break for it and one of the police officers tore off after him down the road.

I stood on my snowy balcony in my pajamas waiting for him to bring idiot Sheldon back,
the police both apologized for disturbing me and left.

I went back to bed where Franky and I had a very loud conversation at the the ceiling about how COMPLETELY INSANE THAT CRAZY B!TCH UPSTAIRS is and agreed at top volume that she should maybe GET A LIFE or even just go see the new Harry Potter movie OR SOMETHING!!!

It took me almost an hour to fall back asleep and I woke up plotting the neighbor’s demise.

Franky woke up and reminded me how lucky I am to have a boyfriend so sweet that he would take me to see The Deathly Hallows of his one free and good will.

  • 1. The film was almost painfully boring and I will openly admit that I loved the first one.
  • 2. What do I do about the nut-cake who lives upstairs from me?
  • 3. ⬇ Eeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!! ⬇

*I promise to inflict the details of this and the many other entertaining horrors of my life on all the readers of my book that is almost entirely written. So if you’re a masochist or a glutton for tales of the trials and tribulations of being me, keep your eyes and ears open for it.

Jennifer June

I wanted you until I wanted to be you until…

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Once in a while, like every few years or so, I convince myself that I am desperately and shamelessly head over heals in love with a celebrity.
No joke
I plan our wedding, our children, our joint-career endeavors and our garden…

Jimmy Fallon was relatively short lived and perhaps not very well thought out but I was still young at this and he was clearly a rebound from Adam Sandler. Besides, there wasn’t much accounting for taste in the 1990′s now was there?

Rather than stage interventions, my family welcomes my obsessions with open arms and often even enables me.

I think I still have the pillow case with Jimmy’s face printed on it (thanks mom) that I received for Christmas one year…

I had the children trained to refer to Jack Black as Dad for the years and years and yeeears that our affair lasted.

At first I threw myself whole-heartedly into the fantasy, spending hours upon hours daydreaming without limitation or self-speculation.

Sadly, I have a tendency to be a tad over analytical and after my dad pointed out that maybe it wasn’t so much a crush on Rick Mercer I was suffering from as the desire to be Rick Mercer the wheels in my mind started painfully and reluctantly grinding.

This can’t be true can it? My love devalued? I mean, why on earth would I want to be a wealthy satirist/comedian/screenwriter/actor married to a talented and handsome T.V. producer? Actually I have no idea if Gerald Lunz is handsome or not because when I google-imaged him all that came up were photos of Rick Mercer.

Can I just say, being as possessive as I am, that I wouldn’t complain one bit if every time a chick googled my boyfriend their desktop was instantly littered with pictures of me.

MINE.

The thing is, after watching every episode of Tenacious D’s HBO special 65 times, stalking Jack Black daily for years, running to the theater on opening day for each and every one of his films (if I couldn’t find an illegal copy of a bootleg pre-screening on the internet)
and selling sexual favours my soul for a hot copy of Heat Vision and Jack
I started to realize that maybe, MAYBE, there was a grain of truth to this theory.

I’ve dreamed of being on Saturday Night Live since I was 10 years old… Jimmy.

Have wanted almost nothing more my whole life than to be a multi-talented, musically inclined comedienne with an awesome vocal range, impeccable comedic timing and the best facial expressions ever… Jack.

I wanted to be as funny and brilliant as John Stewart, and as articulate, charming, courageous and quick witted as
Russell Brand…

Rusell Brand… Russell has a beautiful voice, stars in movies, had his own T.V. show and radio show and writes a book every five minutes! Oh Russell…

This makes their coupling *cough cough* even more confusing.

First I have to live with the rejection and the jealousy and then, living vicariously through them, the identity issues provoked by their bizarre taste in women.

When Jack Black and I first fell in unrequited stalkeresque love, he was dating Laura Kightlinger which was almost totally cool with me. Except, of course, for the me hating her because she was doing it with my dream man part.

I may have called her names and willed Jack to leave her on account of my irrational jealousy but the competition was worthy. She’s hot, interesting and hilarious.

But then what does my man go and pull behind my unsuspecting back?

Marries and impregnates Tanya Hayden. What?? Yes. Sure, she’s cute from some angles and she plays (my favorite instrument on earth) the Cello but I heard (and by heard I mean saw in a back stage video of a quick clip of a conversation) Tanya say to somebody “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have a nanny and had to take care of Sam all by myself”

Um… parent your child?

And what did Jack do without my permission? Had ANOTHER baby with her.

What’s that sound?
Oh that, just my heart shattering into a billion pieces.

By the time the crazy glue started to dry the universe was kind enough to plop Russell Brand in my unsuspecting lap.

But, Russell, being rather notoriously impulsive, walked out on me mere moments after setting up house.

No sooner had I downloaded his entire radio show, watched both his television series six times in a row, re-watched Get him to the Greek and Forgetting Sarah Marshall and everything else he’s whispered a line in, plus bought, read and re-read his Booky Wook 2,000X had he proposed to and promptly thereafter married none other than singer “songwriter” Katy Perry.

Ugh.

Ur so Gay

Seriously?

The first line in the song is:

“I hope you hang yourself with your H&M scarf
While jacking off listening to Mozart”

Oh! Is that what gay people do Katy? And also, has anyone you’ve known ever hung themselves? I’m guessing no.

Speaking gay…

I kissed a Girl. Hard core annoying.

First of all, Katy, most girls have kissed a girl at some point between adolescence and mid-life crisis.

Secondly, Chapstick smells good but it tastes like wax, even if it’s cherry flavoured.

Thirdly, why do you say I Liked It as though there would be any reason not to?

Girls are awesome kissers. In fact, in my experience, girls are almost always better kissers than guys. Maybe you should have kissed a few more before you wrote that song.

Then came California Girls.

Katy please, stop. I’ll give you this. The video would make a pretty cool framework for an awesome burlesque video but it’s entirely irrelevant to the terrible song it accessorizes.

Me: ” Do you think she is actually smart and just putting out this god-awful music as a way to laugh in our faces and say – Look! I’m making money off of the stupidity of the average consumer! Or do you think she is actually a moron and Russel Brand has finally lost his mind for good?”

Boyfriend: “Why do you need to hate her so much? Do you honestly take it personally that Russell Brand married her?”

Me: “Answer the questions honestly, it’s important to me.”

Boyfriend: “I think she is smart”

Me: *insert sound of crickets and a blank blinky stare*

When I was finished feeling the sting of being simultaneously rejected by both my boyfriends for stupid Katy Perry I gave myself a talk and came out of it deciding to give Katy a second chance.

I listened to her album, fought the nausea and decided she’s smart and Russell did good *cough* picking a cute girl with a great sense of humor, *wheeze* a giant bank account and, most importantly, great clothes.

Then I saw this:



“I’m talking about zits here people!”


I totally give up.
Now who am I going to be?



Jennifer June

Toblerone, Glossettes and Grasshoppers

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I am a horrible student. I don’t know why, or what’s wrong with me but I cannot study, I cannot do homework, assignments or anything else remotely academic. I just got through mid terms. I shouldn’t actually say that I got through them though because I failed all of them. Well, that’s not entirely true. I got an A in sight singing but you see. This is active. It is an act. It is the act of singing. It’s not the same it’s more like having somebody ask you to show them how to do something. It’s like the teacher asking me to show her what the interval sounds like or maybe we’re playing music together? Sure, her keyboard is just establishing the key and the noise coming out of my mouth is only exactly what is written down on the paper, well, ideally anyway. But still, you know what I mean. Tonight, as a reward for physically living through mid terms, I decided to treat myself. I rented 3 count ‘em THREE movies with Jack Black in them. Just when I thought I had seen them all. I didn’t buy any junk food either. No Toblerone, no almond Glosettes, no popcorn. I would eat a healthy meal and enjoy my movies. Ok.. It’s true I had a $10.00 bottle of depanuer wine and a bag of microwave popcorn at home, but I would eat the healthy meal first! So, I sautéed vegetables, cooked up some basmati and schezuane tofu and I watched Shallow Hal first. Intermission I’ll clean up the dinner mess before Jesus’ Son. I should probably take this time to point out the fact, in case the tofu wasn’t a tip off, that I am a vegetarian. I don’t eat animals, I don’t eat humans and I don’t eat bugs…on purpose that is. There wasn’t enough leftovers to keep for tomorrow so I started to scoop food into the garbage. This is when I noticed him. I think it was a him. It looked like a him anyway. He was huge. He was brown. He didn’t look like he had always been brown. He looked a shade of I’ve been sautéed and doused with soy sauce brown. His eyeballs were black and swollen. Really swollen though, shiny and full. Maybe you can’t appreciate without having seen it yourself. In fact there was a part of me that didn’t understand why I almost threw up all over the kitchen upon realizing him. Even with the missing leg, I shouldn’t have been so totally nauseated. After all it was just a grasshopper. I cleaned out the aquarium to try and distract myself. I washed the dishes, to remove all evidence that dinner had even been prepared, or more importantly, that a living sacrifice had commenced. The more time I spent in the kitchen, the sicker I felt. Maybe homework would be a good idea. As I found myself with a sudden new interest in melodic Dictation, I thumbed through my notes. Still, I couldn’t help thinking…I mean really swollen, and where was that other leg anyway? I live in Montreal, the plateau. That’s basically downtown. Where the hell did that enormous beast of a bug come from in the first place? Don’t think about it. Study. Why is learning so hard? It’s OK. Just focus… and have patience little gras……ugh!!!!

Jennifer June