Darling readers,
Judicious Jacq is franchising. So, visit me HERE and we shall never again be apart.
I still LOVE stage moms ;)
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
at the $25 hamburger place...
... I was recently reminded by my manager,
"Jacqueline... we hired you because you have a beautiful smile."
To really drive my point home, I've called upon passiveaggressivenotes.com for a helpful illustration:
"Jacqueline... we hired you because you have a beautiful smile."
To really drive my point home, I've called upon passiveaggressivenotes.com for a helpful illustration:
Dressed for success!
Tomorrow I wake only to venture south to the Oldest of Old Montreals where I will negotiate my first contract.
Yes, friends, my bitch-ass is employed by three separate conglomerates of men in suits who all wish I would marry their sons. I'm excited for my first round of office Christmas parties where I'll receive festive cookbooks!
Wish me luck.
I'll be ballin' in no time, buyin' rounds of drinks at le cagibi.
Yes, friends, my bitch-ass is employed by three separate conglomerates of men in suits who all wish I would marry their sons. I'm excited for my first round of office Christmas parties where I'll receive festive cookbooks!
Wish me luck.
I'll be ballin' in no time, buyin' rounds of drinks at le cagibi.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Thank God I'm so friggin' CUTE
Looking like Julie Andrews has so many perks.
So I went for round two of my Urban Outfitters heist the other day. I love to hate this place, and hate to love it. I mean, who doesn't? My first trip to UO was when I went to Lansing, Michigan at the tender age of 11-- Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and before I had any orthodontics performed on my mug. This was a time in my life when I thought Michigan was the coolest place on earth, that Jesus was awesome, and that toe-socks we're the best thing since sliced bread.
My Mum bought me a pair of rainbow-bright toe socks (that I wore with my Old Navy flip-flops!) and a pink see-thru, lace and tie-dyed tank top, which conveniently revealed my innie.
Since that fateful spring day in 1998, many a trip have been made to Urban Outfitters.
My latest venture was with my roommate, Clara, who was looking to spice up her wardrobe. In the sale section sat a stack of floppy straw hats. I put one on, glanced in the mirror and Clara gasped in fright:
"My GOD do you ever look like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music!"
I spun around, arms stretched out, nearly clocking a freshly tattooed punk princess and two twelve-year old, jersey-clad Westmount girls with their Tanerexic mothers in tow.
The hat is priced at a whopping $42. After taxes, this grass-mat-cum-hair-accessory will cost me a considerable fraction of my rent.
The opportunity to be an Austrian governess with killer vocal chords? Priceless.
As my dear friend Axel has gone many a time before me, walking out of stores wearing clear as day its unpaid-for merchandise, I sought to do the same.
We walked about the store, fingering acid-wash everything, while I planned to walk out casually with this massive hat atop my pixied little noggin.
I had checked that no cumbersome security tag was on it, while Clara and I made for the door as we chatted of flattering denim cuts.
I pass through the door, and wouldn't you know it, the alarm goes off. I turn around, mildly surprised, while a girl comes up to me. Puzzled, I reach atop my head, clearly enunciating each syllable as would Ms. Andrews:
"Oh my goodness!"
How could I have EVER forgotten to put this over-priced, Malaysian import back on the accessory table?
Beaming with shock, I handed the hat back to the clerk and apologized for my forgetfulness, then mentioned something about whiskers on kittens.
I guess that strategy only works at Simon's.
So I went for round two of my Urban Outfitters heist the other day. I love to hate this place, and hate to love it. I mean, who doesn't? My first trip to UO was when I went to Lansing, Michigan at the tender age of 11-- Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and before I had any orthodontics performed on my mug. This was a time in my life when I thought Michigan was the coolest place on earth, that Jesus was awesome, and that toe-socks we're the best thing since sliced bread.
My Mum bought me a pair of rainbow-bright toe socks (that I wore with my Old Navy flip-flops!) and a pink see-thru, lace and tie-dyed tank top, which conveniently revealed my innie.
Since that fateful spring day in 1998, many a trip have been made to Urban Outfitters.
My latest venture was with my roommate, Clara, who was looking to spice up her wardrobe. In the sale section sat a stack of floppy straw hats. I put one on, glanced in the mirror and Clara gasped in fright:
"My GOD do you ever look like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music!"
I spun around, arms stretched out, nearly clocking a freshly tattooed punk princess and two twelve-year old, jersey-clad Westmount girls with their Tanerexic mothers in tow.
The hat is priced at a whopping $42. After taxes, this grass-mat-cum-hair-accessory will cost me a considerable fraction of my rent.
The opportunity to be an Austrian governess with killer vocal chords? Priceless.
As my dear friend Axel has gone many a time before me, walking out of stores wearing clear as day its unpaid-for merchandise, I sought to do the same.
We walked about the store, fingering acid-wash everything, while I planned to walk out casually with this massive hat atop my pixied little noggin.
I had checked that no cumbersome security tag was on it, while Clara and I made for the door as we chatted of flattering denim cuts.
I pass through the door, and wouldn't you know it, the alarm goes off. I turn around, mildly surprised, while a girl comes up to me. Puzzled, I reach atop my head, clearly enunciating each syllable as would Ms. Andrews:
"Oh my goodness!"
How could I have EVER forgotten to put this over-priced, Malaysian import back on the accessory table?
Beaming with shock, I handed the hat back to the clerk and apologized for my forgetfulness, then mentioned something about whiskers on kittens.
I guess that strategy only works at Simon's.
Friday, May 8, 2009
How've you been?
Dearest fans, oglers and devout readers...
I'm back with a degree and a fistful of dreams and I have two dimes to rub together, and another two bucks for bus fare, and that's about it.
The ranting, the insults, the self-deprecating humour that veils my self-aggrandizing method of communicating in cyberspace is back. It's all back.
I'm supposed to start interning for Vice and the senior editor has asked me to "send me some blog posts."
I swallowed hard and decided that I must resuscitate this blog of brilliance and get this starving-freelance-writer ball rolling.
More to come, and soon, je vous promets.
I'm back with a degree and a fistful of dreams and I have two dimes to rub together, and another two bucks for bus fare, and that's about it.
The ranting, the insults, the self-deprecating humour that veils my self-aggrandizing method of communicating in cyberspace is back. It's all back.
I'm supposed to start interning for Vice and the senior editor has asked me to "send me some blog posts."
I swallowed hard and decided that I must resuscitate this blog of brilliance and get this starving-freelance-writer ball rolling.
More to come, and soon, je vous promets.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
I attract flakes
My alleged friends do not return my phone calls.
I call, and they agree to call back. Or, I call and leave a message, and the answering machine of any particular flake assures me that my call will be returned as soon as possible.
Why is this so? Does everyone suffer from flaky friends in the digital era? Is it because I inevitably experience that When Harry Met Sally breach of contract with all of the boys and I steal the boyfriends of most of my sisters? Am I only worthy of flaky friends?
I bet Dolly doesn't have flaky friends.
I call, and they agree to call back. Or, I call and leave a message, and the answering machine of any particular flake assures me that my call will be returned as soon as possible.
Why is this so? Does everyone suffer from flaky friends in the digital era? Is it because I inevitably experience that When Harry Met Sally breach of contract with all of the boys and I steal the boyfriends of most of my sisters? Am I only worthy of flaky friends?
I bet Dolly doesn't have flaky friends.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Objective: To kiss your ass and those of your clients until payday
I'm trading in my flip flops for impractical shoes and will strut around Montreal for the better part of tomorrow in search of a new, likely drug-addicted and image-obsessed employer.
As you all know, my job provides me with financial independence, male attention and endless hours of postmodern yuppie-style laughs that have me addicted to it more than black coffee and Diet Coke combined. I've had enough of counting my pennies and watching my bank account deplete for four consecutive months, so tomorrow my tits, ass and I are off to the races to shake martinis until the corporate execs go back to the office.
Wish me luck!
As you all know, my job provides me with financial independence, male attention and endless hours of postmodern yuppie-style laughs that have me addicted to it more than black coffee and Diet Coke combined. I've had enough of counting my pennies and watching my bank account deplete for four consecutive months, so tomorrow my tits, ass and I are off to the races to shake martinis until the corporate execs go back to the office.
Wish me luck!
I'm bringing blogging back
Lessons learned this summer:
1. I am awesome.
2. Russians are inhospitable but their cops are smarmily sexy.
3. My teeth are so white that Europeans find it distracting.
4. Mallory Bey can speak French?
5. Hitchhiking is cost-effective, fun and stupid.
6. Serbian drugs take five hours to kick in.
7. Don't get into cars with Mystics.
8. I like Dubstep. A lot.
9. I like medical students. Aspiring dentists are even sexier than Russian Militsia.
10. I am awesome.
1. I am awesome.
2. Russians are inhospitable but their cops are smarmily sexy.
3. My teeth are so white that Europeans find it distracting.
4. Mallory Bey can speak French?
5. Hitchhiking is cost-effective, fun and stupid.
6. Serbian drugs take five hours to kick in.
7. Don't get into cars with Mystics.
8. I like Dubstep. A lot.
9. I like medical students. Aspiring dentists are even sexier than Russian Militsia.
10. I am awesome.
Friday, June 27, 2008
No cops
So I am leaving Russia tomorrow and I didnt have a run-in with the cops. Laurence, my roommate got to hang with cops AND go to the hospital. I suck and am unexciting but will be making it up to myself soon...
Instead, I've been hanging out in hippie hell where no one uses utensils to eat their soy products and they moan meditatively and periodically throughout whatever it is they are doing... fucking, facebooking, peeling potatoes... I kid you not, dear readers, there are sporadic moaners in this buddha-blessed soviet housing unit and to cope I stuff bright orange sponges into my aural cavities. There are severe reprocussions to this act of resistance: ear wax build-up.
I'm going to give Soviet speed another try, and maybe if I'm short on cash and my fingerpaintings dont sell, I'll sell some of those to yound and umpressionable american tourists, of which there are so many EVERYWHERE I just don't know if I can resist the temptation.
Instead, I've been hanging out in hippie hell where no one uses utensils to eat their soy products and they moan meditatively and periodically throughout whatever it is they are doing... fucking, facebooking, peeling potatoes... I kid you not, dear readers, there are sporadic moaners in this buddha-blessed soviet housing unit and to cope I stuff bright orange sponges into my aural cavities. There are severe reprocussions to this act of resistance: ear wax build-up.
I'm going to give Soviet speed another try, and maybe if I'm short on cash and my fingerpaintings dont sell, I'll sell some of those to yound and umpressionable american tourists, of which there are so many EVERYWHERE I just don't know if I can resist the temptation.
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