JJJ aka: Depends on my mood.
What I love:He looks good in a cowboy hat or a business suit and wears them both daily. But not together, that would be creepy.
Hobbies: Building furniture, remodeling homes, playing sports with our kids, laughing with me. Seriously. and I came up with the concept for Twitter. No really, we did. Well to be fair it was more of a combination between Yelp and Twitter. So I guess we also came up with Yelp. We purchased the URL www.ooph.com. That was going to be what we called our Twitter/Yelp combo. Then Yelp hit the scene and then quickly after, while we were sitting around discussing ad naseum how we would create Ooph/Twitter (We would have given you much more space than those misers) Twitter popped up. 

So. Instead of being a BILLION dollar company, Ooph is now a site that offers you a glimpse into my boring, bitchy life. Aren’t you all so lucky.

Speaking of dreams that didn’t come true. I owe an apology to my high school boyfriend. We also dated for a short time after high school. Then I broke up with him and he stalked me for a little bit, which was both frightening and flattering.

Anyway, he had this concept of a gas station where you could just pull right up to the pump and pay with a credit card. “IMAGINE”, he said, “You wouldn’t even need to have anyone there. You could just pay with a credit card.” 

I distinctly remember rolling my eyes. This was a guy that was always snapping his fingers at my head and saying, “Always thinking, always moving.” DEAR GOD do you have any idea how annoying that was for four straight years? Also. He forbid me to cuss.

“I don’t think that would work,” I said. “People would steal the pumps and stuff.” So, he moved on to something else and then gas stations all over the world converted to a credit card system and pop went his dream. 

So. Here goes. Dear Calvin, I hate to admit it, but I think your mom was right. I am an evil blood sucking dream killing vampire. I am sorry.

Wow. That’s a load off.

Speaking of stolen dreams. My husband is convinced, by convinced I mean PSYCHOTICALLY CONVINCED that he single handedly brought back Journey’s, "Don’t Stop Believin’" and that the The Sopranos stole it from him. Every time he hears the song, which is ALL. THE. TIME. he throws his hands in the air exasperated and says, "I DID THIS FOR THEM".

A few years back, just before the The Sopranos final season, my husband was at his annual volleyball tournament in Los Angeles. At his tent things were waning from all the alcohol and hot sun and so J walked over and threw on "Don’t Stop Believin’" and apparently he got the party started.

According to him and I have no proof but his word, someone shouted, “OMG. THIS IS AWESOME,” and people flocked to his tent as if Jesus Christ himself had just shown up for the second coming, and raged to Journey.There were thousands of drunk people (in costume no less) screaming, Just a small town girl, livin’ in a lonely world, she took the midnight train goin’ a-ny-where.

The tournament came to a screeching halt, but no one cared because they were too busy moshing to "Don’t Stop Believin'’’. Several hours later after the 738th time he played it, they carried J on their shoulders and marched him through the streets cheering his name. (Or something like that.) He is convinced someone from the The Sopranos' staff heard him playing it that fated day and that he deserves some recognition. Well. At least I have nothing to apologize for on this one. Except perhaps my husband if he ever meets the producers from The Sopranos.

One more dream killing moment and then I will let you get back to whatever it is you do that is much more important than reading my ramblings. Just the other night J said to me, “Will you please go out and buy one of those flat sheets that is fitted at the bottom?”

I looked at him like I do when he asks me if I really need one more glass of wine and responded, “There are no flat sheets with fitted bottoms.” I was about to laugh directly in his face when the dream killing words, “I don’t think that would work, people would steal the pumps and stuff,” echoed in my head.

So, instead I said, “THAT IS BRILLIANT. If they don’t exist, they should.”

We went to bed talking about what an amazing idea it was and how we would get a patent and why hadn’t anyone thought of this crap before. We were going to be RICH. RICH I tell you. RICH. The next morning we woke up with a rich dream hangover (or it could have been the wine) and stumbled over to the computer to do a quick search before we sped off to the patent office and I found this.

Is EVERY good idea taken? Why am I here? What is my life’s purpose? We should be RICH already, because we are clearly brilliant. We have an affliction. It’s like we are always a day late and a dollar short. Wait. That is good. I should coin that phrase.

We exchanged the old "keep on truckin’" look across the table and then he put his coffee mug to his lips and slurped his first sip and I covered my ears with my hands and life went back to normal.  BUT. We will never stop believin’ and someday we will be on the cutting edge of something VERY BIG and we too will forever be remembered. I just hope it isn’t from behind bars.

What was your big invention?