Double jorts seen at the gym

You all know about my love for double denim photos, right? We’ve seen double jeans on treadmills and double jeans at the gym here and here. Today, thanks to Evan, we have two jort wearing dudes at the gym. Together. In one picture.

Fake-Like-You-Care-About-Me Week, Final Day

Thanks for the fun week, Friends. Given all the positive feedback, I may resurrect these types of posts randomly in the future. Perhaps those of you that have websites should dig out your old photos and do the same? Yeah! Yeah!


Some final random things about me:

My faith is the most important thing in my life. Nothing compares. I know that I have done nothing and can do nothing apart from His anointing grace in my life.

I’ve known my husband since the 2nd grade and we were friends for many years before we dated. I joke about having jean-jogging “boyfriends” but the truth is that my heart belongs to just one person (but he, unfortunately, doesn’t jog in jeans).

If I had more time in my life, I’d spend it at the gym. Strength training is the core of my fitness regimen. 45-60 minutes a day six days a week on and off for 20 years now. Yep, I’m the girl with all the dudes in the “hardcore” part of the gym. I just love every minute of it. After strength training, I’m all about variety – running, kickboxing, spinning, power yoga, Pilates, Insanity, really anything – I get bored very easily and shaking things up keeps me motivated.

I feel strongly that marijuana should be legalized. [Gasp!] Seriously, the fact that there is a safe, plant-product that is not able to be legally purchased by those that need and want it is the REAL crime.

I love Pittsburgh. Seriously, if you’ve never been here, and you are rolling your eyes and letting out a “meh,” your perceptions of it are wrong. You need to visit and see for yourself. Pittsburgh is already named the world’s top 20 places to visit in 2012, and this month it made another list: World’s Most Livable City. #30. The only US city higher? Honolulu. I’m okay with that.If my husband takes a picture of me, he makes a habit of saying something hysterical when I am posing and then takes the picture when I am hunched over cracking up or have some contorted, stifled-laugh face. As a result, the majority of the photos of me that he takes look just like this one which was taken when we were first married.

Fake-Like-You-Care-About-Me Week, Day 5


What is your dream job?

Don’t laugh. A cleaning lady. I’m not kidding. From as far back as I can remember, I thought that being a cleaning lady would be the best job in the entire world. It took me until about age 8 or 9 before I learned that “cleaning lady” was an unacceptable response to the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” But it was the truth.

I love to clean. I find REAL joy in making making dirty into clean, order out of chaos, and using cleaning products. When I babysat as a teenager, and after the kids would go to bed, I would clean. Empty out the refrigerator, scrub tubs, windows, whatever I found the most disgusting. Parents loved me.

Now I suspect that the comments for this post will be all, “Come to my house, you can do all the cleaning you want here.” If you mean it and provide me the details about your especially high level of filthiness, you may just entice me to show up on your doorstep with bucket and yellow gloves in hand.

Speaking of jobs, this picture was taken after a shift working at the Dairy Queen* and before my beautiful sister left for her prom. “Hey, Jill, go put your sticky, Mr. Misty and ice cream stained self over by your sister for a picture, okay? Now say ‘cheese.’ Wait, move over a little, we don’t want you getting hot fudge on her dress.”

*And, by the way, working at the DQ was THE BEST. A perk was that we could eat whatever we wanted for the whole shift. Do I really need to run through the cache of deliciousness that is held within those four walls?

Fake-Like-You-Care-About-Me Week, Day 4


Any weird characteristics or phobias?

Lots of weirdness. Of course you aren’t surprised. Off the top of my head:

– I keep the money in my wallet in sequential order by serial number. I am wicked fast at getting it in order too. A cashier hands me a fistful of crinkled, faces going in different ways, out-of-numeric-order bills? In the time it takes you to put your wallet in your purse and pick it up off the counter, I’ve also done that plus OCD’ed the shit out of my money.

– I have never had more than a swallow of a diet soda in my life. I’ve taken sips which were followed by a gag. Diet drinks taste like something from a chemistry beaker to me; I can’t explain it, but it is a horrible poison-like taste.

– I am up at 4:06 every morning. By the time I leave for work, I have spent 1-2 hours at the gym, did a load or two of laundry, made and packed my lunch, prepped dinner, read all of your blogs…you get the point. The downside of this early-riser lifestyle is that I am asleep by 8:00 every night.

– When I make plans with friends, the time we are meeting never ends in a zero. We meet for drinks at 5:33, have lunch at 11:28, etc. Why does everyone favor zeros? I’m an equal-opportunity number user.

And my only phobia, its a big one: I have a fear of fish. Like serious, heart-racing, short of breath, panic-attack if I see them swimming, fear of fish. A dead fish, fine. Sushi, yum. But I can’t even watch a fish in an aquarium. Those big tanks you see in the doctor’s office waiting room and the Chinese restaurant. Nope, I gotta get a new doctor and buy by Moo Shu Pork somewhere else. If you made me go in a fish-filled body of water, I would have a stroke and die. Dan, that fish widget on your website’s sidebar, it WIGS ME OUT; it is the only flaw in the sea of perfection that is you.

[UPDATE: Dan loves me. He is now flawless. See his comment below.]

Me in the perm phase of my adolescence. And, yes, I was a Girl Scout. Go ahead and laugh.

Fake-Like-You-Care-About-Me Week, Day 3

Thanks to everyone for all the positive comments on these posts this week. I REALLY hesitated in revealing myself, so know that your love is MUCH appreciated [hug].


What trait do you most admire in others?

Being genuine, honest, and true to yourself. No question. My good friends, my husband, and my boss epitomize these qualities; I strive to be like each of them every single day.

I know where I stand with them. There is no phoniness. There are no games. No drama. No “I thought that was what you wanted to hear” bullshit. Each has a “this is who I am, love it or leave it” mentality. I actually love them MORE because they put their true selves – insecurities, vulnerabilities, imperfections – out there for the world to see. So brave.

Dr. Seuss said it best: Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.

And from C.S. Lewis: What draws people to be friends is that they see the same truth.

(my sister and I are in the first “window”)

I love these pictures because they characterize my childhood so well: lots of kids, playing outside unsupervised, from morning until the street lights came on, having the time of our lives with whatever we could gets our hands on. Repeat all summer long.

Fake-Like-You-Care-About-Me Week, Day 2

We continue with the week where you get a weight lifting IN JEANS picture plus some information about me. It is also the week where you pretend to care.


Share an interesting thing about your childhood.

I entered kindergarten able to read and do 4th grade-level math.* As a result, all through grade school, I was never expected to do the academic work but rather was assigned to the trouble-maker kid who ate paste – as his tutor.

[Kirtus, what are you doing now?! Hopefully, me working with you to learn the difference between homonyms and synonyms and keep your boy parts in your pants led to later-in-life successes!]

And me on my first day of kindergarten (in the middle):

I think it is hysterical that I am so much taller than my two same-aged friends. Yeah, I was THAT girl in grade school – the only girl in the back row of all the class pictures, the girl picked before most of the boys for kickball, AND the nerd that didn’t have to do homework. Suck it, Bitches! [ahem]

*I think I have some backwards smartness disease. I started out brilliant and have gotten dumber with time. This website is evidence that I am of barely average intelligence at this stage of my life.

Fake-Like-You-Care-About-Me Week, Day 1

My least favorite pictures are those of people lifting weights IN JEANS. I think the people that show up at the gym in jeans are whacked out, but they don’t make me laugh like the pictures of people running in jeans. Really, if you’ve seen one dude bench pressing in jeans, haven’t you seen a hundred?

In my attempt to  make the next week of posts more interesting (for me, not you), I’m adding a bit of information about me in each post. Of course you don’t care about me and I’m not that interesting by any means, but I need some way to motivate me to get these pictures off my desktop. So along with enjoying the jean-wearing photos, I would appreciate it if you would fake it like you are interested in me. Thanks.

So for the next week, you’ll see a weight lifting IN JEANS picture, a random question from those blogging chain letters “awards,” and then a picture from my childhood.


What is the one word that best describes you?

Happy. Jill = happiest person you know. Without a doubt, I am a glass-is-half-full person and can somehow tend to notice and focus on the positive sides of most everything. I can count the bad days I’ve had in the past decade on two fingers. Cranky? Irritable? Bitchy? Never. So before you think I’m one of those people that walks around with a stupid grin on my face saying “Happy Monday” to everyone, stop right there – I too want to punch those people in the face.

The story behind this picture is that my mom sent my dad to the store to buy a dining room table. That is me on top of the POOL TABLE that my dad returned home with that day – yep, it sat in the middle of the dining room of my childhood home for who-knows-how-long. Classy! And before you start looking at gold curtains and wicker lamp tables trying to figure out the year and thus my age, you can (again) stop right there – focus your attention on my cuteness instead.

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