Hi, I'm Jessica Hamm. Nice to meet you.

So, I've been introduced to this television show. And my soul mate, but we'll get to that part later. I'm not much of a television viewer... meaning I don't have any particular shows I follow on a regular basis. If I've got the remote, it's usually on some shitty reality show, or Food Network, or Real HouseHoes, or 48 Hours Mystery. I just can't seem to find a show that I love enough to follow week to week. Until now. I didn't fall into the whole 'Grey's Anatomy' trend, I'm not into House or Nip/Tuck or any of that made up crap (This is how I justify what I DO watch... I watch REALITY television. Real stuff, people. None of that drama fiction bullshit, because we all know reality television doesn't involve drama). What show, you ask, has detoured me from my comfortable spot in front of Diners, Drive-In's and Dives? Mad Men. Seriously, it's making me MAD (and by that I mean crazy, like in a good way type of mad. Okay, maybe that was a stupid pun... I take it back). This show just concluded it's third season and I am hooked. Come to find out, I'm not the only one who watches this - apparently, it's got a pretty big following. This may have something to do with the fact that it stars Jon Hamm, a.k.a, Don Draper, a.k.a. my Soul Mate. He is heavenly, ladies. One episode and he's got you, hook, line and sinker. But don't get too attached. He's spoken for - by me. Side Note: Shout out to EB and my mother for introducing me to this program and loving it as much as I do, although I'm pretty sure EB doesn't drool over Don like Mom and I do. ****Spoiler Alert**** Is it weird that I actually got excited when (in the show) Don Draper's wife left him?! Crazy bitch.


Start your day off right every morning like I do... watch this little gem a time or two and all is well in the world. Click on this link and skip to the 21 second mark. It's a Mizzou football commercial (yes, he attended the University of Missouri. I don't judge him for that and you shouldn't, either), but who really cares? I mean, are you really considering that school anyways? 


Mr. Hamm-Brown (God, that sounds so good yet so bad together) has now entered my top 5 list. My "Get Out Of Jail Free" list, if you will... meaning, if ever in my life I am presented with the opportunity to have any sort of contact with these 5 people then I'm grasping it with both hands, putting it in a choke hold and dragging it back to my cave - the opportunity, not the person; well, maybe the person too. Single or dating or engaged or married for 25 years, I'm taking it. And I would expect my significant other to do the same if Jennifer Aniston threw herself on him. On second thought, he may have to fight me for her.


My list is as follows:


Kevin Costner 
David Nail 
Jon Hamm
Tim Tebow
Ryan Reynolds


Yes, I understand Kevin Costner is twice my age.... like I EVEN care about that. David Nail, you ask? An up and coming country singer (does the song "Red Light" ring any bells?)... watch his video and I won't have to explain any further. Jon Hamm is a given, as is Ryan Reynolds. Tebow? I mean, do I really have to ellaborate? That boy walks on water if you ask me (and Urban) andI'm perfectly fine with taking a backseat to him. Of course, if he was in the backseat with me that'd be better...  

Wait, what?! No... Seriously?!

Two blogs in one day. I know, you are itching with excitement. This entry won't be too long though, because after you click on the link you will realize that there really isn't much to say. I'm at a loss. There aren't any words I can come up with to describe what lies beyond that little web address right below, you'll just have to see for yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you.


http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=34336100

Now go get out your Christmas gift list and make the appropriate changes.

Mrs. Brown, You've Got A Lovely Daughter

So, I was hit with a strange reality recently. And I find it strange that I describe this reality as strange because in reality, well... it's not strange at all. Here is what I discovered....


I'm getting old. Okay, not that old. But old for me, seeing as though I have never been this old before. And I'm getting, wait....... wait for it...... shall I say, uhhhh mature?! I don't know when it started and I can't figure out how to make it stop. On top of all that nonsense, I find myself acting like... drumroll, please.... MY MOTHER (who is only slightly older than me, let me make that very clear). I was told many times by my oh-so-wise maternal figure that this would happen one day, but never got around to believing it and now the time has come. Damn, I hate when she's right.


Exhibit A: I have this girlfriend (whom I will refer to as Bernise because I think that's the weirdest name ever - don't worry, it's not her actual name - I wouldn't associate with a Bernise)... Anyways, so Bernise has had some recent developments in her life. Some pretty damn big ones, to be honest.  Here she was...  skipping along, smelling the roses, watching sunsets, whispering sweet nothings into her lover's ear, when all of a sudden - BAM. Brick wall, baby. Without boring you with the grisly details, I'll skip straight from A to Z. He broke up with her. Yanked that Persian rug right out from underneath her, ripped out her heart and stomped on it like yesterdays garbage, tore it to pieces kinda like the card from my ex boyfriend I recently discovered and put through the shredder - God, he was such a dick. Anyways, I am on the receiving end of this phone call after "said event" takes place and I gotta admit... it wasn't pretty. She is a girl and she was hurt, understandably so.  My heart ached for her because let's face it, we've all been there. There were lots of F bombs being dropped, lots of "Whyyyyyyyy MEEEEEEEEE????" 's, lots of tears, lots of "Damn him, that mother fucker has no idea I was the best thing that ever happened to him and he will regret ever losing me one day, that stupid ass idiot!" type of comments.  Everything she said was justifiable. She had every reason to feel this way, she earned the right to cry and bitch and moan. And this is when I realized that I had (here it comes)... apparently matured overnight. And I turned. into. my. mother.

What came out of my mouth next wasn't probably what she expected. My advice to her? Same advice my mother has given me through my last 853 breakups/1 divorce. "Babe, you are better than that. Walk away with your head held high, thank him for all he ever did for you, tell him you love him and hope he finds happiness. And you will find your happiness too,  just be patient. Life is too good to be unhappy. Everything is gonna be just fine, you'll see." I didn't curse the ex's name, I didn't tell her what a piece of shit he was, I didn't ask her if she needed help leaving his singed belongings in the front yard. Now, if you know me then you know that when it comes to my friends and family having been wronged or hurt, this mama don't mess around. Typically, it doesn't even matter if my friend/family member is the culprit or the victim... I'm defending them because that's what friends do. Open my mouth and the nasty insults would hit the ground running. I always avoided the fine "white trash" line by never taking it to a physical level, but I would tear someone's ass UP in a heated battle of words.  I wanted the name, number, address, and first born child from the ass hole that made you cry. No way were you gonna hurt someone I love and then fly under the radar, you can balee' dat real quick.



Now that I have scared away any potential suitors or anyone who isn't already close to me but could be one day, let me clarify a few things. A) Just because you have read the above and you know I am from the hills of Gaw-gia does not mean that I am a white trash, ghetto or redneck. I do have some class. And standards. On most days. B) I have never gotten into a physical fight, nor would I ever. Ever. EVER. I would be TERRIFIED if anyone ever tried to lay a finger on me. I'm talking run-like-a-damn-crybaby-while-yelling-over-my-shoulder-to-please-leave-me-alone-or-my-dad-will-press-charges type of terrified. C) I'm really not all that scary and I can promise you most of what I "say" is probably conjured up and over-dramatized in my own little head. I (used to) think I was a lot more badass than I was. It'd be entertaining to watch myself during one of those "popping off at the mouth" episodes because I'm sure I'd be quite confused as to why it didn't go down at all like I remembered and why nothing coming out of mouth made a lick of sense.



Here recently though, I just can't find the purpose in all that nonsense. Just seems a bit ridiculous. If you wanna be a hoochie mama and sleep with my boyfriend, go right ahead. I'll graciously bow out and let you have the reigns, hope you have fun and I'll catch you on the flip side. If you want to talk smack about my mom, do it (probably wouldn't let it get back around to her, though... jess sayin'). I will pity you and pray you find whatever it is that is apparently lacking in your life. If my brother calls me, devastated because his best friend stole his wallet and racked up a bar bill at Runaround Sue's, I'd say... well, I'd say 2 things: A) "Let it go, Bubba (I retract the "I'm not a redneck" statement). He is the one who has to live with himself. You were a good friend to him and what goes around comes around." and B) "Uhhhh, seriously? Runaround SUE'S? WTF? He couldn't come up with a classier establishment to spend your money? Who even hangs out there anymore?"


Life is just too damn short, y'all. Don't get me wrong, I get pissed off sometimes. I check out of reality from time to time, have my moment, and then check back in. I scream, I yell, I cuss (shocking, I know). BUT... maturity comes from being able to have those moments very seldom and only with yourself. Every single person on this planet falls asleep at night with their own conscience and no one else's. Make sure it's one that you can be proud of, one that reflects who you are and the GOOD choices you have made. Because the truth of the matter is, ain't nobody making your decisions but you. Take responsibility for them, own them, apologize sincerely if need be, pull a Jay-Z by brushin' yo shoulders off and then keep on steppin'. Sometimes having the last word will force you to shoot yourself in the foot. You know the drill... If you don't have anything nice to say, keep your big mouth shut. Trade the trashy for classy, it looks much better on you.



*** Shout out to Mom... Being just like you ain't so bad :) PS - Remember spanking me with that damn wooden spatula as a kid? It definitely got the point across. Thanks for the good tip, it's stored somewhere in the back of my sick head for future reference... and use.

Pneumonia & New Opportunities

Sorry for the mini-hiatus, folks. I've had a few events occur over the last week or so, some pleasant and some miserable. Most importantly, my boys pulled off another win this year down in Jacksonville (Goooooo Gators!) and I was reminded again why I love Tebow, Urban, Sturgis, the entire UF athletic department and college football in general. Unfortunately, I had to watch this game from the perils of my bed while sipping on chamomille tea, using an inhaler and eating some incredibly disgusting antibiotics by the handful. Walking pneumonia + bronchitis = one sick little lady. Gotta give a shout out to my nurses who took care of me, you know who you are and I owe you a drink (or 12) when I'm back in commision. 

On another note, I received a really kickass opportunity to get my name out to the public. My good friend, Chris Foster, offered me a weekly column writing for www.georgia.com. It will be published every Monday, so do the math... that's FOUR columns a week I'll be writing. FOUR. On some days it seems overwhelming and on other days it seems like a no-brainer. I find it pretty easy to write once I know what I'm writing about... it's coming up with a topic that people actually want to read about that's the hard part. My first column will be published sometime this week. Georgia.com is in the process of transitioning to a new website, so they are a little behind. We've gone back and forth with a few picture logos (Chris is amazing at this stuff, mad props to him... he said he could even make me look TAN. Do you know how excited I was about this?!). He orginally created an awesome one for me but I felt a little "stripper-ish" in my picture and lord knows we can't be havin' people know my real profession, so we settled on the one below.... not so risque. Check in every now and again to see if the column is up - and give me your feedback, people! Of course I want to know if you loved it, if you hated it, what you liked, what you disliked, if I need to kick your ass or kiss it, etc...

Look for this logo ;)

I apologize for the lack of smart-ass remarks or whitty comebacks, my mind and body have yet to catch up after such a blow. I'll be back in working order next time, promise!

They've got me beat - by 29 years.

Next year is a REALLY big year for the Brown's. Okay, not that big.... no engagements or weddings or babies (Praise God), but it's still pretty damn significant. Drum roll, please.... 


....... Swayne and Andrea will celebrate thirty years of wedded bliss on the 23rd day of the second month. THIRTY YEARS of holy matrimony. Well... Mom will tell you they weren't all holy and blissful but alas, there have been thirty of them. Do you people have any conception of how long that is? Cause I sure as hell don't. I have a hard enough time making it thirty minutes through a date with a guy, let alone three decades. 

The (most of the time) Happy Couple

Their Offspring in the center, plus a few

 

 

You just don't hear of such a thing anymore. It makes me proud and hopeful and thankful and scared shitless. Not many children have been fortunate enough to be able to see their parents celebrate such a milestone, hell most spouses haven't even been lucky enough to be able to celebrate this accomplishment together. It really is amazing, it's a blessing and it's something I strive for in *every* relationship I have with *every* person in my life. Thirty years develops a damn good history together.


In my attempt to find my 30+ years partner, my criteria has changed a bit. Okay, a lot. Okay, DRASTICALLY. Let me enlighten you....


List of "criteria" at age 18: Hot. Cool car. Funny. Nice. Cell phone. Doesn't cheat on me.
List of "criteria" at age 21: Attractive. Fun to go out with. Gets along with my friends. Honest. Decent job.
List of "criteria" at age 26.7: Humor. Compassion. Faithfulness. Willingness. Honesty. Communication. Humor. Humor. Humor.


AH-MAZING how, within a matter of a few years, everything you ever thought was important suddenly... isn't? It's like you wake up one day (for me it was in my mid-late twenties... so, uh yesterday pretty much) and it smacks you in the face. Do I really give a shit if the man of my dreams drives a "cool car"? I mean, seriously?! Is it imperative that he have sun-kissed skin and geled hair? Uhhhh, WTF? The truth of the matter is, I want someone who will make me laugh. Looks fade (and pretty damn quickly, too - I've seen it, but I won't name drop). Money comes, money flows, money goes. Kids grow up, friends fade, parents die. But if you've got someone who will make you laugh through all of life's struggles, you've got a lot. More than most. Hell, if it can work for my parents then it can work for me.  Now I've got to find someone who is actually just as funny, if not funnier, than myself. So, basically.... I'm screwed.
 
As Big once said in SATC (Sex and the City)..... "After awhile, you just want to be with the one that makes you laugh."

Dear God, I gotta question....

I found a little gem in my car this morning. No, not the earring I lost ages ago and definitely nothing of great value.... but it brought contemplation to mind and these days, that's good enough for me. I was on my way to work, applying my mascara as usual (Mom, please do not call me about this) and I dropped something between my center console and seat. I reached down to get it and discovered a cd stuffed in the crevices, clearly scratched and weathered. I recognized the handwriting on this "burnt" cd as my own and knew it was definitely old school, something from back in the day. I put it in, laughed outloud when I heard the first song and then thumbed through the next few. They were all really good songs, songs I had forgotten even existed but had at one point in my life meant something to me. Funny how one song can completely take you back, almost into another place in time, and as soon as the song is over you are back to your normal routine as if it never happened. Track 4 proceeded to begin and I was at a traffic light, mascara applied and coffee now in hand. I remembered hearing this song, oh, a good hundred times before without a second thought to it’s meaning. It had been years though since this tune had played in my head and it was somehow now a different song to me.


“But I wasn’t there the day You filled up the ocean,
I didn’t get to see You hang the stars in the sky.
So I don’t mean to second guess You,
or criticize what I don’t understand.
These are just a few questions I have.”


Hmmmm. Just as I was saying, songs can take you back. Sometimes to good places, sometimes to not-so-good places. Hearing this immediately forced me to recall a time in my life that wasn’t good. However, this “time” in my life included an event so life-changing, so embedded in my memory, that I think about it almost on a daily basis. I’ve heard before that God makes himself present in the darkest of times, right when you wonder where the hell He is, he makes himself known. And, well, dammit… He sure does.

 This day I’m referring to happened back in the very early spring of 2007, probably late March or so. The word “divorce” had just entered my vocabulary and I was still trying to absorb it. I was busy moving furniture, calling lawyers and calling on God, wiping away dust and tears, boxing up silverware and memories and trying to find a new “normal” while desperately trying to keep everything the same. You see, the steady flow of tears never really dissipates after a decision like this – at least not for awhile. My life, as I had known it, was over. I was 23. Divorced. An emotional wreck. In my mind, this was as bad as it gets. The bottom of the barrel, the lowest of lows. And then, as He always does, God showed up.


My ex and I were at dinner that evening, sitting on the patio just like we had done numerous times before – this meal was different, though. We were discussing who would keep the tupperware, who would pay the car insurance, what we would return and what we would keep, who we would tell and who we wouldn’t. We were grasping at straws, gritting our teeth, and attempting to keep our yelling to a minimum due to the crowd that had gathered at the outside tables to enjoy the same simple pleasures we once had. The tears started to come, nothing out of the ordinary, and I felt it in my gut… that feeling of total failure and lack of any good in my life at that exact moment.


I stopped yelling, dried my eyes and looked to my left. There was a family of 5, gobbling up their burritos and genuinely loving each others company. I quickly noticed what appeared to be the mother of these 3 children, her head wrapped in a scarf and lack of eyebrows and eyelashes apparent. Cancer, I assumed, and my heart became heavy. It was clear to me she wasn’t doing well. Her movements were slow, her breathing was labored, but she was there. In that moment, she was at peace with her family. Naturally, I listened contently to their conversation – I was hanging on to every word these people were saying. They were laughing and carrying on like any normal family would, obviously accustomed to the fact that Mommy was sick. Her daughter, whom I’m guessing was about 8 years old or so, was coloring in her own little world. She then said something as she colored, not even taking her eyes off her book. What she said will never, ever leave my memory. Ever. Not as long as I live. It haunts me.



“Mommy, the kids at school keep asking me what I’m going to do when you die.”


I can still hear her voice in my head, almost baby-like. The innocence that God affords small children amazes me sometimes (p.s. – Thank you, God for that). Here I am, arguing with a man that I married about bedroom furniture and wedding china and the magic bullet (the infomercial gadget people, get your minds out tha gutta!) and this woman is in front of me, desperately trying to live for her babies. My life, my struggles, my depression - this was peanuts compared to hers. And there God was… coming through the darkness, giving me perspective, showing me the light that is ever present but just not as bright at times. That poor woman would have traded circumstances with me in a heart beat, you can bet your sweet bottom. And from that moment on, my life was different. By that, I don’t mean it was different as far as marital status, or my address or my income – although all of those did change. I mean it rearranged who I was.


I don’t know why God gave that woman a deadly disease. I don’t know why he blessed her with 3 beautiful children and what appeared to be a committed husband, just to leave her hair-less and sick and in pain. I don’t know why my own mother, sister, grandmothers, aunts have all avoided that same circumstance. It's obvious to me that God knows all, the bible even tells us that He knows all the days of our lives before we are even born. So how does He pick and choose? I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't want that job. How does He decide which babies are born into poverty and war-stricken countries and which are born with free will and most likely won't ever go hungry? It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever understand in this fair, yet so unfair, life that I am SO fortunate to live. But I am grateful. And if you are able to read this, than you should be too. In the words of Jack Johnson, give people presents with your presence alone. You just never know.

I'm jealous. There, I said it.

So... I'm not too keen on public speaking. Actually, my stomach just turned when I typed that - true story. This tid bit probably surprises most of you, seeing as how I am typically the loudest in the crowd, the one cracking jokes and popping off at the mouth. You wanna laugh about your husband cheating on you? Call Jess. You wanna find the humor in the fact that your dog died? Again, call Jess. You want me to help you see the optimistic side about you gaining 20 pounds? Yep, me.  I do find that at times being loud and boisterous can get me into some trouble - I'm used to it.  I suppose it's a good thing that I'm also pretty comfortable and secure with my opinions and decisions, and the people I surround myself with know this about me and appreciate all the funny and not-so-funny stuff that tends to exit my mouth without a first, let alone second, thought.

I dropped my Communications class in college. No way in h-e-double hockey sticks was my happy ass getting up in front of 100 people and reciting a *memorized* speech for 5 minutes. Not on my watch. If I don't know you on a somewhat personal level, I'm sure as hell not going to attempt to stand in front of 100 of you and have you judge my public speaking abilities and social skills. Thanks, but no thanks. Play again. I'm just not comfortable in that type of environment; it's wasn't who I was at that age and still isn't completely who I am now, although I'm getting better... just at a very slow pace.

You see, I want to be a fabulous public speaker. In my dream world, I'd write incredible books about the wisdoms and tragedies that life has afforded me - and hopefully make people laugh their asses off in the process. And after I write them, I want to TALK about them. In front of other people, not just alone in my mirror. Which brings me to this video. Hands down, it's one of my favorites. Of. All. Time. No kidding, I have this entire excerpt memorized. No shit, I have the text printed out onto an 8.5 x 11 and I read it. Sometimes outloud and in the car, sometimes to myself in my office. Not only do I think that this woman (I'll refer to her as Kelly Corrigan because, well, that's her name) preaches the gospel, but I'm jealous of her. Like to the core, want-to-be-her type of jealous...  of course, minus the time in her life when she fought breast cancer with 2 small babies and husband in tow. I mean, this woman is a survivor in every sense of the word. On top of all that, she writes incredible books and even... gasp!... speaks [so eloquently] in public. She is good, people. Damn good. And I want to be like her. And I will.  

Kelly Corrigan - Transcending: Words on Women and Strength