that model in me

modeling is nothing like the stereotypical, glamorous lifestyle people make it out to be. i modeled with a company called generation for over nine years. that was nine years too long for me. to start off the woman that first hired me, patti, is not so warm and fuzzy to say the least. i think she eats nails for breakfast. i missed 56 days of kindergarten alone to travel into new york city for jobs and go-sees. it wasn’t as detrimental as it seems considering by the first grade i was reading better than some of the kids who had perfect attendance. i missed almost every single one of my friends birthday parties. that doesn’t seem like much but after adding up the hours of moon-bouncing, the plates of pizza, the forkfuls of cake, the pounds of candy from the piñatas, and the piles of infamous goodie bags. that’s a lot of action to miss for one kid. my first job was pretty terrible. and to make matters worse the job was for sak’s 5th avenue.  i was 5. they put me into a really hot satin party dress in the middle of the summer. then they proceeded to curl my whole head of hair for about an hour. again i was 5. i wanted to be back on the moon bounce at the birthday party not sitting on a salon chair for an hour straight. the hair dresser pulled my hair so hard that i started balling my eyes out all over my newly mascaraed eyelashes. so now i’m not only ruining my make-up but i’m ruining the satin dress. they finally calm me down and the actual picture taking portion went over well. apparently i was good at it. i have no idea why, but they wanted me back to do another job the next week. the photographer even ended up firing to violent hairdresser for a much gentler woman. that was the beginning of it all. from kindergarten to 8th grade i went to thousands and thousands of jobs. my friends thought it was so awesome that i could walk in a store or flip open a magazine to see my face, but i was never that thrilled about it. the travel into the city became a routine. it got to the point where the hot dog man on the corner memorized my order: two hotdogs with ketchup and mustard. the midget construction worker, carlos, would wave to us as we walked by his job site all the time. more often then not, we would have a lot of walking to do. for entertainment purposes my mom would let me bring in my baby stroller. there i was walking down the sidewalks rolling (and ramming) my doll stroller into other pedestrians ankles. my mom never even said anything because i was happy and that’s all that mattered right? when i got older that baby stroller progressed to a scooter. there were times where we would be running to catch subways and my mom would have to slam objects into the doors so they didn’t close and drive off with just me on the train. from that point on i had to wear a dog tag. yes, like a pet. but hey, i wasn’t complaining. at least my mom didn’t put me on a leash like some of the other kids in the city. some of the photographers that i worked with were just god awful. hand modeling for toys was the absolute worst. i was a little girl and the photographer there (not exaggerating) used to say things to me like, “rotate your right wrist a quarter of a n inch to the left… no too much! go back, try again “. like a 6 years old really knows how much a quarter of an inch rotation is. one time, unbeknownst to me, i did a job for gap with some “world-renowned photographer”. the guy was from england and had a really strong accent. so there i am on set like any other photo shoot and this photographer is giving me directions on what to do practically in another language. i open my big mouth and say to the rest of the camera crew, “can someone translate what he’s saying to me in english because i can’t understand a word he’s saying”. i would do that.

that on-the-spot magic

reading labels is SO important. but jordie doesn’t like reading. i haven’t read a full novel since the 3rd grade i’m pretty sure. so i’m in 8th grade just starting to go through that whole “tween phase”. i had one or two pimples on my cheek that were driving me nuts, so i told my mom to go buy me some face wash. she comes home with a cute little 3-step kit humbo-jumbo. that night, i got out my kit to get rid of those awful looking blemishes that seemed like they were getting bigger and bigger by the second. they weren’t. i had nice skin i was just borderline insane. so the first step was to wash my face with special soap. so i did. the second step was to take of the oils with this cleanser. so i did. the last step was to apply this cream in a little tube. i read the big print on the front of this itty-bitty thing and it says, “on the spot”. right under that, also in big print, it reads, “zap away problem areas fast”. cha-ching! jackpot, baby! i’ve found the good stuff. so i apply to on the spot cream to my two little pimples. then i conjure up the great revelation in my head.  real stupidity coming your way, so don’t judge me. i decide it would be a good idea to put on-the-spot cream all over my face like a mask to ensure that i’d never get another pimple ever again. boy did i regret that the next day. i wake up the next morning and wash my face off. it’s a little red but im not concerned yet. i take a shower. i come out and my face is really red. worse than before. a little while later i look in the mirror and my face is now peeling. i’m thinking” oh god! don’t panic”. so NOW i decide it’s a good idea to go back and read the back label. it says, “warning: contents in container could lead to severe burning of skin if excessive amounts are used”. wonderful, jord. i burned my freaking skin off with zit cream. this was SO not the look i was going for.  my wonderful, caring and loving mother still made me go to school that day looking like a complete burn victim. i was the exact opposite of self-conscious, so i really didn’t care. correction: i didn’t care until every single one of my teachers called me out about it. with gracious remarks like, “oh my god! what happened to your face?” and “ooo that looks like it really hurts!” real nice right? where are their kind-hearted, kid-friendly masks? it took over a week to heal my poor and screaming skin.  i should of read the label.

that polly pocket

the type of toys you play with can tell so much about your personality as a kid. first toy i ever got was a half-blanket-half-stuffed-animal type deal. it’s name was pokey. oh how adorable. that thing never left my side. even when i needed my hands to do something i would just sling it over my right shoulder and keep going. this thing needed to be washed desperately, but my mom could never get me to give the thing up. my mom resolved this by buying two of the same doll so she could give me one while she washed the other. she had to keep them consistent though so my one year old brain wouldn’t outsmart my mother’s. i ripped the small fabric heart off the blanket part of the doll, so what does mommy now have to do? rip off the heart on the other one with a seem ripper. oh i was such a difficult child. i swear i did those things on purpose. i was also a huge binkey fan. i would clip my binkey onto pokey so i never lost it when it fell out of my mouth. i was such a picky child though. i made my mom poke holes in the rubber-sucky part so that i could breath through it. what a weird request from a two year old, “mom can you poke some holes in my new binkey? i can’t suck on it good”. woah, okay back to toys. when my sister was born my mom took me to the toy store to pick out a present for the new baby. yeah right. bring a kid to a toy store and tell them that they have to pick something out for someone other than you? not happening. i tried to convince my mom that my new baby sister would love love love to have this bright red telephone (that i just NEEDED to have). i wasn’t being selfish! kids are supposed to only think of themselves. kids live in little bubbles where the only person whose in there is you and all the mean bullies at school can poke holes in your bubble until you pop and there’s no air to breathe. then your just stuck in there with goo stuck to your hair for years to come.  bullies should be put in jail. get it together jord, focus. so my favorite by far was polly pockets. you’d think i was more of a bratz kind of girl but there’s just something about those stretchy rubber outfits that just pulls you in. chas and i could play polly pockets in the basement for hours. we had enough clothing and houses to dress and shelter an entire homeless shelter comfortably. i always secretly wanted to play polly pockets with chas but i never told her. i waited for her to beg me. then i’d play her game. i’d agree to play with her but of course under my rules. i was SO mean. listen to the garbage that used to come out of my mouth: “i get all the cute outfits” or “i get to have the boyfriend” or “you have to be poor” or “i get to be rich” or “i get the nice house and you can live in the pet shop with all the dogs” or “you have to be a really bad dancer and everyone has to laugh at your girl” nice right? my sister was just happy i was playing with her so she didn’t care. we laugh about it now. i was always more of the bratz type. apologies baby sista, i love you!

that bad driver

my driving skills are equivalent to george bush’s presidency to put it lightly. TOTAL failure. no, i’ve never been in a huge accident. no, i’ve never hit an animal. no, i’ve never gotten pulled over. but yes, i am the world’s worst driver. i think it all started back in drivers ed when my teacher handed out this worksheet with a bunch of streets on it. you were supposed to draw a line down the right roads to guide the car from point a to point b. i’m pretty sure every single one of my cars crashed into each other. i’m not sure if that was before or after i had them driving in the left line on a one-way street. so my dad takes me out  in the car one day to just glide gracefully up and down the driveway. what an awful idea that was. i should have let my mom do the teaching. it should have been fine considering i’m a pro at driving the tractor (i can even go full-bunny speed) and i can basically drive my yellow atv with my eyes closed. but who would have guessed that they are two totally different pieces of machinery. “do not operate machinery while using lunesta” was one of my friends 8th grade quote in the yearbook. that has nothing to do with anything besides the fact that it’s funny, and i should not be allowed to operate machinery on a day to day basis. anyways, so my dad takes me out in the car. he’s always gotta be right in on the action. i think he has add. a normal parent would sit in the passenger seat with their hand on the emergency break just in case. but no. my dad thought he would be closer to me for some real up-close and personal parenting if he was hanging on the outside of the drivers side with the door open. there he is looking like a goon (thank god we don’t know who the neighbors even are) standing on the running board of my blue ford escape (aka total mom mobile) trying to teach me how to drive. a mother would explain to their kid that the gas is sensitive and that you can glide without doing anything at all. they might also add in that the first thing you should do is wear your seat belt.  a father forgets about all that and just jumps right into the action. literally jumps into it. so as he’s hanging off the car like spiderman, i’m sitting in the car so nervous to drive that i don’t even remember to put my seat belt on. i take my foot off the break and immediately put it on the gas. completely unnecessary. the car launches forward so i slam on the breaks equally as hard. my dad jerks forward then backwards slamming into the door, yet he still thinks hanging onto the car from the side is a good idea. so we continue down the driveway (we never get tricker-treaters to give you a length image) and i make it to the end. my dad gets in the drivers side to turn the car around so i can attempt driving back down the driveway to the house to conclude our stressful driving lesson. when my dad turned the car around the wheel was really turned to the left, which he forgot to inform me. i slam my foot on the gas too hard once again and this time disaster strikes. the car goes so far right so fast that i manage to drive over the belgium block curbing and aim right into the pine trees. my dad yanks the emergency break from the running board after almost getting flung off the car completely. we escape disaster by a thread. not a scratch on the car just two very distressed people. i crashed in my own freaking driveway. i would do that. i run inside the house to get away from the angered monster. i’m not even sure if i’m referring to my dad or that evil blue car right there, but regardless i booked it out of there fast. my mom says, “well you’re back fast, i guess you’re a really good driver after all. ” i look back at her and say, “you don’t even know”. my dad walks up and says two words, “never again”.

that dunkaroo girl

my friend danielle was like my “biffer for life” for forever. i’m pretty sure it was close to eight years. i’m really good at the whole long relationship type deal i guess considering i’ve been dating the same guy for two and a half years. that’s like a mini-eternity in high school. you’re lucky these days if you make it past the two week mark. anyways, me and danielle had a huge fight over her loser boyfriend in 7th grade and things just weren’t the same after that. she was pretty much my other friend, and i didn’t care enough about having a popularity status to make new ones so i was flying solo my last year of middle school. contently though. i sat alone at lunch that year, but that was completely by choice so don’t feel bad for me. people would come up to me constantly feeling sorry for me and trying to strike up a conversation about why i always sit alone, but i just wanted them to leave most of the time. this crazy and wild girl becca sat next to me one day at lunch while i was eating my peanut butter and jelly on a hotdog roll (don’t ask- my mom used to run out of bread constantly). she said, “hey jord wanna see something funny?” i said “sure” to amuse her. she takes out a pack of white cookie and rainbow icing dunkaroos. mmmmm my fave. then she takes out a  spoon and i’m actually a little concerned. she is SO the type of girl that would stab you or do something completely insane/crazy/psycho. i think she was more commonly found sitting in the principal’s office than she was sitting at her desk. she icing-ups one of the cookies and puts it in the spoon. i SO know where this is going. she launches this thing straight at danielle, who is sitting at the table behind us. the icing gets caught in her hair but it flung so lightly that it took her a while to notice. becca turns to me and says, “wait wait here’s the best part!” danielle is now pulling sticky dunkaroo icing out of her hair. she couldn’t of looked more confused. i’m sitting there dying laughing about to pee my pants because i couldn’t get over how crazy this girl was and i had nothing to do with it to get my in trouble. this was great! she never found out who threw the dunkaroo. thank god. i don’t deal with drama at all.

that inner-loser

in middle school, i never cared what anyone ever thought of me. ever. i used to wear those ugly crocs, had em’ in every single obnoxious color you could think of. people would tell me i was weird (rightfully so) but i still didn’t care. i liked the shoes and they were really comfortable, so i was going to wear them no matter how many people commented on them. just to add to my inner-loser, my hair on tuesdays and thursdays is definitely something to comment on. i used to have cheer practice right after school and my hair always had to be up nice and tight and perfect. i could only achieve this look by taking a shower, combing my hair while it was wet, using globs of gel, and a strong mist of good ole’ hairspray to seal the deal. i didn’t have time to go home and do all that so i wore my hair slicked back in a tight ballerina bun with a large sized bow on top every tuesday and thursday. the lunch ladies always told me i looked cute and those are the only real opinions who matter right? but stop thinking that that’s just a cute phase because it’s not cute at age 14. almost entering high school and i look like a circus act ready to walk the tightrope. but again, i couldn’t care less.

that lion king

if you ever have to go see a broadway show, i’d highly recommend the lion king. i mean i’m not a drama club professional or anything, but i’d say it was pretty flippin’ sweet. you’ve got giraffe people in stilts walking down the isles and godly african music in the background. truly moving. my grandpa died a few months after i went to see the show and we were going to go down to the graveyard to plant some nice flowers with my grandma.  looking back in retrospect, this was probably not the type of thing you should lug your children to, but my mom did anyways. so there we are, walking down the rows to the site. my mother had given us the “be quiet” spiel before we took off, but i was like 6 and there is NO stopping a 6 year old’s mouth. i turn to my mom with visions of the lion king stage in mind: antelope body bones and hyenas eating them ferociously. i shout loud enough for grandma to hear me, “HEY MA! WHERE ARE ALL THE BONES?” she looks horrified and so does poor old grandma, but my mom ignores it. a few steps later we pass a new grave site. i comment and shout, “HEY MA! THIS ONE WAS JUST PLANTED TODAY!” well that was the end of my graveyard journey. to the car i went. you’ve gotta love 6 year old smack.

that blanket monster

sleepovers were always enjoyable. staying up until the wee hours of the night playing mindless games. i needed that as a kid. blanket monster was the game of all games. one time at my friend danielle’s house, chastin, her twin sister alex, danielle, and i all decided to play a good, solid round of blanket monster. and never will i ever play again. ever. one person puts a blanket over there head so they cant see and all the other people in the room walk around and try not to get touched by the blanket monster. my genius sister thought itd be a good idea to stand right in front of me while we were playing. she goes, “run faster, run faster!!”. of course i run faster, i mean she’s literally an arms length away. so there i go running as fast as i can in a blanket straight ahead for my sister and what does she do? the little squirt moves! a little shuffle to the left from chastin and i was history. i tripped flat on my face over a mini ski ball machine. not only that but i managed to literally take a bite out of their wall with my front teeth. there i am laying on the ground with my head stuck on the wall and everyone is literally in tears. my head finally comes dislodged with a little help and you know what the first thing to come out of my sister’s mouth is. let me tell you this much it was NOT any of the following: “i’m sorry”, “i shouldn’t of done that”, or “i’m stupid”. she stands there and says “oh my god jordie! how are you going to fix that big hole wall?” we decided to cover it with a jesse mcartney poster. the mother realized the poster was moved about 5 minutes later. we were done for. i should of ran away, but i’m the world’s wimpiest runner. i have the world’s most brilliant sister, i’m positive.

that big mouth

i could not shove enough food down my throat fast enough. i crave a nice head of lettuce on the daily. salad’s probably my favorite. or pasta, i think it’s a tie. that’s the Italian in me. i get all my taste buds from my dad. easymac is pretty good, too. lovin’ the convenience factor there. i drink white pomegranate tea every day and i can’t function without it. you know it’s gonna be a bad day when you leave the tea container on the kitchen table before school. you can commonly find me sipping on mickeyd’s finest sweet tea. $1.07 with tax exactly. if that’s not sad i don’t know what is. bannanberry treats from smoothie king are godly. enough said there. see, the only problem with writing a blog about food is that right now i’m literally starving. i’m craving a platter of artichoke dip and boneless buffalo wings from apple bees, a plate of bacon ranch quesadillas from chiles, a chicken ceaser sandwich from panera, a heavenly ham sandwich from the quakerbridge plaza shops with that special honey mustard says, a bag of lay’s salt and vinegar chips, a box of chocolate covered raspberries from the fudge shop, a hershey’s cookies n’ cream bar, a large tub of ben & jerry’s phish food ice cream, and a tray of freshly baked peanut butter cookies. mmmmmm.. yeah jord, that really helped. did i mention, i weigh 105 lbs. soaking wet? talk about great metabolism.

that video

every single year for christmas since i was one, my mema (yes, my grandma’s name is cooler than yours) gives chas and i the same thing. the exact same thing year after year after year. i have an entire train of seventeen ceramic animals. each christmas, we add on a new end to the caboose. it’s so predictable seeing that 2×4 package under the tree, but it’s cute i guess. grandma’s like those queer memory-making keepsakes. so we deal. to the juicy part of my story, chas and i are like two monkeys at home. i think it’s because we are so well-behaved outside of school that when we come home it’s like a party at the zoo. my parents just LOVE that. a few years back we were fooling around in the bathroom. there are these two really close walls that surround the toilet (perfect for climbing in-between). so us two brilliant monkeys decide to spiderman-it -up this wall. oh one other thing, we are video tapping all of this madness. long story short, chas tries to show me she can stand perched in between these two walls with no hands. not the smartest choice on her part, but also not the dumbest i’d have to say. so she falls. falls right onto the toilet. even funnier, as she clumsily falling, she proceeds to knock down the entire shelf display behind the toilet. you know that same display that carries the train of precious moments from mema. it gets better. instead of just telling our mom what just happened, we decide to line up all of the broken pieces back on the shelf organized with heads on the top shelf and bodies on the other. a few days go by and she finds a row of heads and a row of bodies. she says to me “what the heck were you two clowns doing in here?” and i wisely respond, “do you want to see the video?” thank god for that video is ALL i can say.