Jonna's Bl💫g

I don't know what got into me, but two days ago, I came home from the office, pulled down my driveway, and ripped three, very dead trees out of the ground with my bare hands. Then, as if possessed by what would happen if Bear Grylls and Martha Stewart mated, I ripped open a tube containing 1,000 sunflowers seeds and poured them into my dead tree holes, stomped some fresh dirt over them, imagined a skunk being able to easily sniff them out with the skill of a truffle pig,  and buried them a little deeper - with my feet. Then, as if covering up a crime, I lugged the dead tree carcasses to a wooded area on my property (while wearing pretty suede boots with satin laces on them, totally poor choice of tree pulling footwear), and threw them down the small ravine with the 'tude of a Mafia boss who just realized Pauly Cacciatore shorted him ten bucks. "You trees wanna die on me? You think it's funny? Funny how? I make you laugh like a clown? Do I amuse you?" I t...

by Law B. Itch I am not, nor have I ever been, a sweat-pant kind of gal. Only if I am going to, or coming from the gym, would I ever be caught in public willfully wearing bulky sweatshirt material on my ass. In fact, I don’t even like wearing sweat-pants while sweating. If I could figure out a way to safely run on the treadmill in a pair of five-inch heels and a pencil skirt, I would. Yes, yes, of course it's vanity! My silhouette doesn’t appreciate being swaddled in twenty-four ply, preshrunk cotton. Actually, only college kids and pillows can pull off looking good in any fabric built solely for comfort. I have a genetic aversion to padding any of my body parts with spongy, lump hugging, shapeless reams of fleece that cling to my hips courtesy of that gummy synthetic stuff more commonly known as elastic. It’s just not sexy. Give me stiff, crotch-pinching denim with contrasting double stitching and buttons disguised as snaps any day! Besides, tight jeans are an integral part of...

A personal message from Law B. Itch: “Folks, I realize that the following installment of Law B. Itch’s blog isn’t exactly “law” related (although there have been some laws passed recently that do attempt to protect those of us who eat, such as the “no trans fat in NYC” regulation). But sometimes, things happen that just chap my ass. This is one of those times…enjoy!” Make no mistake, I love food. Actually, I’m obligated to love food, lest I want to be bound by my hands and feet and force-fed fried meatballs until Aunt Chickie downs another juice-glass of Chianti, and decides I’ve consumed a sufficient amount of cow. Yes, I’m Italian. Yet, despite the fact that pan-drippings and tomato paste are part of my DNA, I feel compelled to take a stand against a recent food phenomenon. As far as I can tell, it began with the creative geniuses at Taco Bell who one day decided, “Hey, why bother creating a whole new, ninety-nine cent food item, when we can just combine two greasy tortilla-wrappe...