Italy!

Hi, you have reached the blog of Jen Hubley. I can't get to the keyboard right now, because I am reclining by a pool in Tuscany. Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Provided I ever return to the States.

So! Birthday

It took me three days to feel human again after my birthday, which is, of course, a sign that things went well.

At least 30 people showed up. I think. At one point, I decided that everyone in the bar had obviously come for my birthday and my birthday only, and inflated the number whenever anyone asked.

Guest: Wow, what a turn out! How many people came?

Me: At least 50.

(An hour later.)

Different Guest: Man, a lotta people here. How many, d'you think?

Me: AT LEAST 200. TWO-HUNDRED, DO YOU HEAR? FOR I AM POPULAR, AND BELOVED.

The best part about your birthday is, you get to be obnoxious. For example, my friend JoJo was ahead of me in line for the ladies room. Just as she went in, her friend Dan swooped up and went in with her. Later I discovered that he had been doing that all night, and peeing in the sink, which is nasty. At the time, though, all I knew was that my peeing was going to be delayed.

So, what did I do? I banged on the door as loudly at possible, up high, so as to mimic a bouncer type. And then, when Dan opened the door, I grabbed him by his collar and threw him into the hall.

"That's the ladies room," I said. "Are you a lady?"

"That is so uncool!" Dan said. "You just lost so many coolness points!"

"Are you the arbiter of that?"

"I hope you never get laid again!" And then he stomped off in a huff.

I got to pee, though. And the other ladies on line became my new best friends!

One Photo From the B-Day

I'll have stories in a bit, but here's a photo of me pretending to know the tango:

Beat You to the Chase!

Hey pals: I've got a short short short thingie in SMITH Magazine this morn. Please to read.

BTW, I'm not sure why I thought it was OK to write "cut to the punch," but I haven't been thinking clearly due to, uh, working really hard. And my birthday! And yesterday my tummy hurt! I have a million excuses! Pick your favorite!

Sopranos and the Whatnot

I'll tell you, I don't care if the crazy theories are right, the last eppie of the Sopranos both sucked and blew. David Chase clearly hates all of us and would kill our puppies if he could.

Who Doesn't Love a Good Story About the Gym?

I am paralyzed. I am thisclose to typing this entry with a pen held in my teeth, because my arms are so sore. Today, I allowed some freakish person who probably wore spandex in his crib to yell at me like a drill sargent while I tried to convince my jello legs to rotate some pedals.

It is clear that I am not cut out for physical fitness.

However, summer is here and your pal has not been so diligent about the exercises, so I'm trying to play catch up. This, of course, never works. However, it will not stop me, because I am a good American, and I believe that I can always turn any problem around, given enough money.

A Good Question

Me: Do you think I'm going bald?

Mrs. Piddlington: How do you get anything done, when you're so crazy?

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

No, not City Stank, although that started up today, as well. (Park Slope smelled like dog shit this morning when I woke up at 6 to go to the gym. And it wasn't even hot out yet.)

No, my pals, it's my birthday. One week from tomorrow, your host will be 31 years old. I find this very hard to believe. I don't feel 31 in the least. I think it's because I've dated so many younger men. They're keeping me youthful! And immature!


Anyway, because I'm trying to be a better blogger, updating more frequently and all that, I'm enclosing the invite I sent out to about 40 of my closest friends. It's a cheap update, I know, but hey. (Also, because strange boys sometimes mail me pictures of their penises, I'm leaving out the precise location. Write me if you know me and didn't get it, and I will provide you with the exact location.)


Ahem:

It is time, once again, to gather at a local bar and help me drink myself stupid as I celebrate the passing of another year. That's right: It's MY BIRTHDAY.

Some of you might know that I love MY BIRTHDAY more than any other human on the planet. I love it because I am entirely self-obsessed, and because I love presents and cake and talking about myself, and because on MY BIRTHDAY you have to let me enjoy all these things. Ha ha ha!

MY BIRTHDAY will not be at the Magician this year, because that sucked, but it will be on the Lower East Side, because I'm very busy at work and have no creativity to spare for party planning. Therefore, please join me at the following time and location:

WHERE: XXXXXXX

WHEN: Saturday, June 9. I will be there at 9 PM. I will be drunk when you show up at 11.

WHY: Because it's MY BIRTHDAY.

WHO: Everyone. (A short FAQ follows this message.)

Hope to see you all there!

XO,

Hubs

FAQ:

Q. My significant other is not on this list. Why is that?

A. I am sleeping with your significant other. However, I like you more, so I'm inviting you instead. Oh, what the heck: Bring 'em along. MY BIRTHDAY comes but once a year.

Q. I know someone who isn't on this list, but I think you meant to invite him/her. Should I ask you about it?

A. No. You should just invite this person. I probably meant to leave him/her off the invite list, but won't that be funny?

Q. I live in a different city. Do I still have to go?

A. Don't you have a life to live after? Just send cash. (However, if you're in town, you can stay at the Mouse's house. I'm sure he won't mind.)

Q. I have a funny joke. Should I reply-all to this email?

A. No, you should not. The exposed email is just to let everyone know that I have a lot of friends.

Q. Do you like your birthday?

A. OH MY GOD, I LOVE MY BIRTHDAY. However did you guess?