Jen P
My blogs
| Gender | Female |
|---|---|
| Occupation | Magic 8-Ball, Poetic Jackhammer, Social Terrorist |
| Location | Suffolk County, NY, United States |
| Introduction | Jen P. often talks about herself in the third-person. A writer and editor by trade, she holds advanced degrees in snooty affectations, two of which are wearing sunglasses day and night and consuming conspicuous amounts of Pellegrino when she is not drinking Bourbon, trendy microbrews, or preternaturally caffeinated coffee. Jen's writing has been used as a textbook example to illustrate how badly the poems of Edgar Allen Poe suck. Her favorite pastimes include running into John the Greek while purchasing Vagisil at Wal-Mart, hiding uncooked sausages in random cereal boxes at the grocery store, smuggling dildoes and Barbies through airport security checkpoints, ambushing John Waters at Penn Station in Baltimore, finding new ways to work the word "PissChrist" into conversations, searching for the source of that awful smell emanating from her car, inspiring countless poems, songs, and even a movie character, cooking, and masturbating. According to her best friend, she is dark, bitter, and chocolate, and can accurately be described as a "bitch covered bitch with a creamy bitch filling." |
| Interests | When she is not locked in her room antisocially drinking, plotting world domination, and planning revenge against the Polish Hammer in retaliation for his latest sadistic and offensive UPS package, she indulges in long rides to the Outlets out east with her mother, The Terry, chatting animatedly about birth control and the birds and the bees, proving once and for all that you are never too old for "the talk." Jen credits her her large vocabulary and her appreciation of fine literature and poetry to Ms. Feather, her high school English teacher, who would always wear the claw on quiz day. She enjoys hiking, bicycling, climbing, jumping off things, pirates, cowboys, and goddamn musicians whenever and wherever possible. It should be noted that she has sworn off musicians as many times as she has quit smoking, and with much the same result. Jen also loves to spend the day in Manhattan hitting the museums and the Met and is an avid fan of organized sports that include kicking, punching, biting, and the exchange of bodily fluids, especially when said events are televised and she can watch naked while drinking cheap malt liquor. She looks back fondly on the memory of the time she was involved in a full-scale shootout in Baltimore, the time she ground an opossum to death with her Chevette's oil pan, and the time she hacked a raccoon to pieces with a hatchet. Jen hates opossums and raccoons but loves shootouts. Her one regret is that she probably could have got to the shotgun faster. |
In anticipation of your question, therapy is something Jen does not believe she needs, but she thinks you could benefit from a few rounds with a Freudian analyst.