Have You Read Jenny Jones’ Blog? You Should Really Read Jenny Jones’ Blog
The daytime morning talk show is a lost art, a bittersweet memory of an age before Matt Lauer’s misogynistic proclivities were de rigeur, when you could stay home sick from school and the pre-“Oprah” daytime hours were a joyful wasteland of quality low-quality programming filled with strong females who didn’t have to in-fight for ratings. Sally, Ricki, Jenny — the gang was all here to take over where Bob Barker left off at 11 a.m. And while I’d like to imagine that even after their foam-core sets went off the air my girls were still out there performing makeunders on dental assistants who were dressing too sexy for the workplace, the truth is, they’ve all moved on: Sally Jessy Raphael is out here selling red glasses nostalgia to hipsters and warning you about Scientology first; Ricki Lake is a provocative documentary filmmaker and champion of giving birth on your nicest rug; and Jenny Jones has a blog.
Do you remember Jenny Jones? The white girl from Chicago who wanted to be Oprah, but had to settle for being Jerry Springer instead? As it turns out, her off-camera retirement life in Southern California is just as delightfully batty as you’d think it would be, and she has a blog full of petty enthusiasms for medium-sized roller coasters, frequently chronicled battles with neighborhood woodland creatures, and other general musings from the greatest daytime talk show host who tried the hardest. I unironically love the shit out of this blog. It is perfect.
Jenny’s thoughts on Thanksgiving:
It’s a day to be grateful and I have much to be grateful for.
1) Squirrels are hybernating.
2) I don’t have to wear Spanx.
3) I have never bought anything “as seen on TV.”
4) I can still drive at night.
5) There’s a TV in my bathroom.
6) TMZ doesn’t know where I live.
7) I will always be older than Cher.
8) I will never be a vegan.
9) No one recognizes me at Target.
10) They make 3-ply toilet paper.
Denis and I were together 24/7 and we were still friends when we got back.
On squirrels (foe):
I don’t like this squirrel’s attitude. After investing money is a plastic hawk, it still wasn’t enough to scare off this mangy, rat-faced, no-good, low-life, beady-eyed, scum-sucking, apple-stealing squirrel. I placed the hawk there couple of weeks ago and apparently, it’s just an inconvenience. Now instead of running along the stone wall, the furry rodents have to detour around the bird and scale down the side to get to my apples.
Now I think he’s mocking me.
When I heard the county fair was coming to town, I marked it on the calendar. THIS is the day I will ride my Tilt-a-Whirl. I planned it months ago and even got a confirmation that they indeed had a Tilt-a-Whirl from someone who was there. So last Thursday, we headed to the L.A. County Fair.
Once we were in Denis said, “Do you want to go see the animals first?” “No. Tilt-a-Whirl.” “How about the prize winning pies? You love to bake.” “No. Tilt-a-Whirl.” I had a singular goal and nothing was going to slow me down. I thought I would ride five times, twice right away, go see the animals, two more rides, then the pies, and one more ride before we left.
The downsides of celebrity (spoiler: enema purchasing ability drastically reduced):
I actually like grocery shopping. Now that I’m not on TV, I come and go to the grocery store and Whole Foods, enjoying the fact that no one recognizes me, allowing me to go out in sweat pants, a pony tail, and no makeup. I look more like someone who works for a celebrity. So last week I went to my regular Whole Foods and as I was checking out, the checker says to me, “You’re buying more today than you usually do.” I’ve shopped there for years but was surprised that she would remember a customer’s buying habits. “You actually remember what your customers buy?” I asked. “Oh,” she said, “when a celebrity comes in, I usually remember.” Say what??? But I’m not famous any more! There are no makeup & hair people at my house! I come in here and none of the staff even glances at me! It was shocking because all this time, I thought I was invisible there. I guess I was living in denial. I suddenly realized that anyone with a cell phone could take my picture and I could find myself featured in “Stars Without Makeup,” or they would create a new section just for me called “Stars Without Mirrors.”
I started looking over my shoulder when she stunned me even more. “When a celebrity shops here, people always want to know what they bought.” Com’on! Are you serious? So now I have to edit my shopping list? AND comb my hair? The checker assured me she never tells people what celebs are buying but what about all the other checkers? And the other Whole Foods? And grocery stores? And oh the horrors… the drug store! Can I ever buy red vines again? Hair remover? An enema? I don’t think so.
I could read this blog for hours and never, ever get bored.
[Images via Jenny Jones]