I’m so sorry, dear friends, that I have not written in ages. I’ve been busy with school and trying to get good grades.

Life is good, just a bit busy at the moment. Nothing too new to report. I’m still cycling, though not as much due to the rain and cold we’ve been having lately. I need to find some cycling pants. I haven’t been reading the book but my fall break starts after classes tomorrow so I will try my best to resume reading it and updating you on it.

I hope all is well in your lives.

As a parting gift I will leave you with this video of this crazy man jumping from the stratosphere. Yikesabee!

– gypsyjess.



I fell off my bike today.

In all honesty I’m surprised it took me this long to accomplish this goal. I am quite clumsy and accident prone.

This is how it went down (do you see what I did there?):

It was getting late and the sun was starting to make it’s decent so I decided it’s now or never. So I changed into my cycling clothes, strapped on my helmet, fired up my iPod, and hit the asphalt. Two miles in to my journey I decided to turn around and go the other way. I went to turn onto a small road when I felt my bike begin to tip to one side. I wiggled my left foot out of the strap and went to brace myself on the ground. Unfortunately I forgot I had raised the saddle the day before and my feet don’t quite touch the ground as easily as before. That and I was on a slight slope. As I attempted to free my right foot my handlebars jerked to the left and down I went. My body twisted but my foot stayed in place. I felt a pop, some numbness, and then a tingling sensation throughout my big toe and top of my foot.

I may or may not have cursed under my breath. I’m only human.

So I stayed on my knees, dragged my bike off the road, and put my water bottle and iPod back in their appropriate places. I went to stand and realized I couldn’t put any weight on my foot. So I decided to try riding back. I hopped on my bike and made the slow and painful journey back home. I wasn’t able to move my foot or put any weight on it so I had to pedal with one leg. It took me about 15 minutes to make the 2 mile journey home (almost double what it usually takes me).

My foot has a heartbeat and I have to walk on the outside of my foot. It’s a very attractive way to walk. You should try it.

I’m just glad I don’t get embarrassed easily because I was at a section of road with quite a few houses on it and when I fell I landed in someone’s front lawn. Awesome Jess. Awesome.

I’ve decided that I will take tomorrow off from riding, even though I took Monday off too. I won’t be able to ride anyway because we are going to pick my grandparents up at the airport so that’s my real excuse otherwise I’d probably try and ride despite the pain.

Moving on.

I stumbled across this girls BLOG today. I have been inspired. Obviously I’m not a rower (though that would be amazing and I do have rowing in my blood since my dad rowed all throughout high school and college…perhaps I’ll buy a rowing machine one day…) but I’d love to do a charity ride on my bike. Probably not solo because I’m scared of the dark and would get quite bored and go mad. But I really want to do that. I will put it on my Bucket List. Right below “Learn all the lyrics to R.E.M.’s It’s the End of the World“. What charity I would support I have no idea. Nor do I know how the heck to even start that. Obviously begin serious training would be the first step since I am nowhere near riding 30+ miles a day, everyday, for months. My poor butt.

Another very exciting thing that happened today is my best friend went into labour this afternoon! Her water broke while she was out going for a walk! Keep her in your prayers. I haven’t gotten an update yet but I imagine she’s quite busy doing other things. Like pushing. Go Tricia, Go! I’m so happy and proud! Little Autumn Riley will be here soon! Hopefully I will be able to go to Atlanta in a few weeks to visit them!

I posted this video on her Facebook for inspiration. I’m such a good friend.

Have a fantastic evening folks!

– gypsyjess.

P.S. I am 21 visits away from 20,000! Wow! Invite your friends!


The Dream:
I am a soldier for the U.S. Army.

I get a call from the President (but not the real president, a fake one, like in all those doomsday movies):

Fake President: “Private Falk, your country needs you. Will you except this mission?”
Me: “Yes, Sir. Yes I do.”
Fake President: “Good. You are doing your country a great service. Mission details will be sent to you at oh-two-hundred-hours. Be ready. And may God speed.”
Me: “Thank you, Mr. President. I will do my utmost to protect the people of this world.”

My mission:
Alien and Predator have invaded earth and are hiding out in an abandoned house at the top of a hill. I must invade the house and destroy both of them before they escape.

How the mission pans out:
I put on my Army fatigues and load up my Red Ford Escape with every weapon I can find (This is my car in real life. Apparently they weren’t at all concerned that my bright red vehicle will be spotted by Alien and or Predator).

I drive up the hill, which is actually more of a mountain. At the very top of this mountain is a white, ranch style house. Once at the top, I quietly get out of my car and grab as many weapons and ammo as I can carry. I slowly walk up to the house. I can hear movement and the familiar “clicking” sound that Predator makes. I see he is in the living room so I walk around to the side door. I walk into the kitchen and notice the basement door is open. I slowly make my way to the doorway and look down. Alien is chained up in the basement, struggling to get free. Instead of killing Alien right then and there, I decide to leave her alone (not sure why…). I whisper “I’ll be back for you.”

I then walk around through the dining room which is connected to the living room. I hear something behind me and turn around just in time to see Predator firing at me with his Plasma Gun. I jump around the corner and barely miss it. It blows a whole in the wall joining the living and dining rooms. I run to back bedroom area. I hide in one of the bedrooms. I can hear Predator walking outside. He passes my room, pauses, and then walks on. I sneak out of the room and slowly creep back to the kitchen. I contemplate killing Alien now. I start to make my way down the steps when I feel something grab me. The next thing I know I’m flying through the air. I crash into the wall. Stunned for only a moment. I jump back up and fire my AR-15/SP1 at Predator who is now charging me. Bullets are hitting him but he keeps charging. Finally, I hit him in the helmet, apparently stunning him long enough to make my escape.

I run out the front door to get a more powerful gun only to find my car gone. I look over the side of the hill and see it at the bottom. I run down the hill and hop in the drivers seat. I had forgotten to set the emergency break and it had rolled down the hill. I drive back up the hill and exchange weapons. I opt for a 39mm M203 Launcher, “this should do the trick” I whisper to myself. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and regain my bearings. I walk back up to the house and notice that Predator is not in the living room anymore. I walk around the house, carefully looking in each window. When I don’t see him I quietly make my way back inside through the side door. I notice right away that the basement door is now closed. I quietly open it and see both Alien and Predator down there. They don’t notice me. I sling my gun onto my back and start pulling grenades off my jacket. I place a dozen or so, pins pulled, into a bucket, toss it down the stairs, shut the door, and run. I feel them detonate before I hear them. The explosion is so powerful I blasted into the air from behind.

I hit the ground and am knocked out briefly. When I wake up most of the dust has settled. Alien and Predator parts are strewn about the blast sight. Amazingly my car is still okay so I climb in. I take a deep breath and turn the key.

Then I hear the “clicking” sound. I look in my review mirror and…

My alarm goes off.

This is a “screenshot” I made. That is me standing on the “basement” stairs getting ready to blast A and P to smithereens.


Today Little Monkey and I were driving home from the Balloon Festival. We began talking about church and how she was going to see all her friends tomorrow. We somehow got on the subject of one little boy in her class. This is how the conversation went:

Me: Did you know his mommy is going to have a baby?

Little Monkey: You mean at church? Will da baby be all cute and wittle and squishy? Awww. I can’t wait to see him!

Me: No, the baby won’t be born for a few more months because it’s not done growing yet.

Little Monkey: Well, when will it be done gwowing so I can see him?

Me: Not for a few more months, his mommy’s belly has to get really big first. Remember how Aunt ***’s belly got really big before her baby was born?

Little Monkey: Yes, but where does da baby come out fwom?

Me: [I freeze for only a moment or two] Where do you think the baby comes out of the mommy?

Little Monkey: Well, I fink da baby comes out of da mommy’s belly.

Me: [curiosity takes over] How does the baby come out of the mommy’s belly?

Little Monkey: Out of da wittle hole in our belly’s [referring to the belly button if you’re lost] of course!

Me: Oh, so it just walks out?

Little Monkey: No silly, it gets bigger and da baby just kinda pwops out! Like “PWOP!”

Me: Oh I see. Well, I guess some mommy’s have babies kinda like that…

Little Monkey: Yes dey do. Hey wook at dat cool car!

So there you have it folks, how babies are born according to a curious three year old. I was both amazed at her creativity and holding back laughter. I had a visual of a woman’s belly button dilating to 10 centimeters and then a baby just plopping out. Like a giraffe.


– gypsyjess.


“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” It’s a phrase we all have heard at one point or another in our lives. However, the person who coined this phrase was obviously never in Junior High or High School, or a girl.

Sure, it’s easy to say “words will never hurt me” but let’s be honest for a minute, words do hurt. Sometimes they hurt a lot. There have been many times in my life where I would rather have been punched in the eye than insulted or verbally degraded. At least with a black eye it only hurts for a day or two and once the swelling and discolouration fade, all evidence and pain is gone. Words, however, stick around. Sometimes forever. If you’re a woman (even some men I’ve found), first of all congratulations for surviving into womanhood. Secondly, you know exactly what I mean when I say the phrase, “back stabber”. It’s unfortunate how many of us have been stabbed; worse still, how many of us have been the stabber.

I hate to admit it but I have been a stabber. Yes, I have also been stabbed but I got over it. What I can’t get over and forgive myself for is for being the stabber. For being so close-minded and petty that I prevented or ruined a beautiful friendship over something that was probably not even worth it. Actually it wasn’t worth it because, when I think back to those moments in my life, I can’t remember the why. Just the looks of hurt and pain that my words caused another human being. I hate myself for it.

But why are we like this? Why must we degrade one another to make ourselves feel better? How is it acceptable, especially in womanhood, to use hurtful words towards others to boost our own self confidence? We ought to be ashamed of ourselves, really. This pettiness is ridiculous, and to be honest, disturbing.

I hear the things people say about another. I’ve been in the room when the stabbed walks in to the room full of stabbers. I’ve felt the awkwardness in the air. I’ve seen the look on the persons face when they realize that everyone in the room was just talking “smack” about them. It sickens me. What sickens me most however, is my reaction.

I do nothing. I sit quietly. Awkwardly. I know it’s not my place to say anything and to be honest, if I were to say something I would be next on the list. However, I get this knot in the pit of my stomach when I witness things like that where I know, I need to say something. Not anything degrading or hurtful towards the stabbers, but something that gives them a reality check. I once heard a phrase that made me laugh, “The people who gossip the most, are the ones who are gossiped about the most”. I thought that was intriguing and a bit sad. It’s a vicious cycle that is destined to repeat itself until someone puts a stop to it. Until someone who was sitting in that group, stands up for the victim. Maybe they don’t say anything. Maybe they just stand up quietly and leave. At least that shows the others in the group that they won’t sit there and tolerate such rubbish.

On the flip side however, why do we need acceptance from our peers? Why do we look to others for acceptance? Why do we care so much when we don’t fit in? We go to such great lengths to fit in don’t we? We go so far as to disown others for being different from us. But if we are ever going to put a stop to this, we need to learn to love and accept one another. Not because of our similarities but because of our differences. Our quirks and imperfections are what make us so unique and beautiful. How boring would it be in this world if we all acted the same, looked the same, dressed the same. The world would be a very bland and lame place!

I know it’s cliche to say but, the only person we need to worry about judging us is God. In a hundred years, those women won’t matter. Heck, they won’t even be alive (and neither will you actually)! So why do we care so much about the words others say. Romans 8:31 says it best, “What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?” even though, in this specific verse, Paul was not talking about backstabbing (or maybe he was since he was talking about present sufferings vs. the future kingdom of God), it is still true and can be used in this context. Seriously, if God is for us, who can be against us? The answer, no one. God is all that matters, to be totally honest. Sure, this is not to say we will be immune to the pain and hurt we feel when negative things are said about us, but it can help in coping with such situations. Eleanor Roosevelt said it quite well too, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

Another passage, that pretty much sums up everything I wrote, can be found in Leviticus 19. Verse 18 states, “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD.”

I urge you friends, to stop the pettiness and backstabbing. For our sakes. For our daughters’ sake. For everyone’s sake.

I have done my part, now it’s your turn.

– gypsyjess.


Ten minutes before this photo was taken, this tree was unbroken and healthy.

How did it break exactly?

It was hit by a truck that went around a corner too fast and ended up jumping the median. Yes, the truck went airborne  and slammed into the tree, landed on the asphalt, skidded and then stalled.

This all happened while Best Friend and I were playing tennis. The truck had three men in it. While we are not 100% sure what exactly distracted them long enough to hit a corner too fast and jump a median, it is only fair to guess they were looking elsewhere; i.e. at us.

We were the only people around. Just us hot ladies. And by hot I mean we were playing tennis in 90 degree weather.

– gypsyjess.


I was an interesting child. Don’t get me wrong, I had a lot of normal traits as well, but for the most part, I was a unique one.

What made me interesting?

  • I put my life in jeopardy for stupid reasons. I really wanted a cast after a close friend in grade school broke their arm. So how did I go about trying to solve this problem? I jumped off my bed backwards in an attempt to break my arm. Did it work? No, all I got was a huge bump on my head and a headache.

  • I would lie and make up stories in order to impress my classmates. Of course, many kids probably do this on occasion. However, I did it frequently and my lies were weird. For example, in first grade, my teacher was talking about “Clifford the Big Red Dog” during reading circle time. A boy in my class said he was made fun of sometimes for having the same name as the Big Red Dog. So what did I do? I told my teacher and peers that in Australia, their was a dog named “Daniel the Big Purple Dog”. I told them my older brother was made fun of sometimes for having the same name as the Big Purple Dog. Why I did it? I don’t know, I was a dumb child.

  • I never turned down a dare. A few classmates dared me to smoke a cigarette at recess. Not wanting to pass up an attempt to impress, I decided to smoke one. Behind the equipment shed. I told them I smoked all the time and it was no big deal. However, that was proven false when after the first puff, I began chocking and sputtering. They laughed at me and called me a liar.

  • I never wanted to wear underwear. This would’ve been fine except that on Halloween the class was to dress up in their costumes and march in a parade around the school. The boys and girls were divided up into separate rooms so to change into costumes. I stood, awkwardly, in the corner to embarrassed to say anything to the teacher. Finally she came over to me and said I needed to change or I couldn’t march in the parade. After a few minutes of prompting, I finally confessed to my teacher I wasn’t wearing panties and didn’t want to show off my lady junk to the entire class. Thankfully she told me I could change in the bathroom as long as I went super fast.
  • I also never wanted to go to the bathroom. Apparently whatever was on my agenda for the day was much too important to take a two minute break to go pee. I would hold it and hold it until I could barely walk without peeing myself. I used to get yelled at a lot at school and home for never going to the bathroom.

  • I would say stupid things that sent me to the “naughty chair” at school. For example, during reading circle time my first grade teacher presented the book we were going to read. Not wanting to sit and listen to the story [which I hated. I could never sit still and pay attention] I raised my hand and said, “Mrs. Johnson, I’ve read this story before and it’s dumb.” Her response, “Well then Jessica, if you feel that way then you can spend reading time in the naughty chair.” So I stood up and walked out to the hall as my classmates stared and said “ooooh”. Instead of sitting in the chair though, I went and walked the halls until reading time was over.

  • I was scared all the time of dying. In Australia these three boys found out my biggest fear was dying. What did they do? They would tease me by shaking the poles in the art room because they would wobble. They told me the roof would cave in if they did it enough. I would scream and cry and beg for them to stop. They would just laugh and continue. They also told me that the sap on the trees was actually blood from little girls that bears would attack. Being a dumb kid I didn’t realize that bears do not live in big cities or in Australia. Apparently they had a hatred for Americans.

  • I went through a phase where I really wanted to be a boy. When I was 8, I refused to wear girl bathing suits so I just wore shorts. This made my older brother so mad because he would get embarrassed if friends came over to the lake house. I also tried to pee standing up during this phase. I ended up peeing all over myself and the seat.

If you knew me when I was a kid and have a funny/weird/awkward/strange memory of me, please share. It’s fun to laugh at my childhood stupidity/weirdness.

– gypsyjess.


So for some odd reason, I remembered this one time I scared the ever-living out of my parents. Then it was frightening, awkward and to be honest, a near death experience for me. Now, it’s funny and a “why did I do that, oh right, I was a stupid teenager” memory.

When I was just fourteen years old, I wrote a letter to my friend who lived in New York. This was back when writing letters was still acceptable amongst teenagers, i.e. before texting was invented. Yes, there was a time when there was no such thing as texting, Facebook, Twitter and Skype. Oh those ancient of days.

Anyways, I wrote a letter to my friend in New York. I honestly don’t remember what the letter was about, all I remember was I thought it would be funny to scare her and tell her that I turned into this uber rebel child and was into sex, drugs and rock n’ roll to the extreme. Don’t question my sense of humour, just go with it.

In this letter, I stated, “I don’t know what I’m going to to [friends name]. I don’t even know how I’m going to tell my parents. [friends name]…I’m pregnant. And I don’t know who the dad is. What am I going to do? I’m so scared!”

Of course this was a total lie, I enjoyed freaking my friends out, mainly because, to be honest, I’m a pretty good liar. Obviously I only abuse this talent when I want to get a laugh out of friends by totally freaking them out!

Well, stupid me left the letter open, on my desk, in my room for all to see. My mother goes into my room to deposit clean laundry [back before I did my own laundry]. She passes by my desk and sees the words “I’m pregnant”. Any loving mother would freak out at the sight of this and read on. As a [mature] adult I now understand that she had every right to read this letter because, a.) it was in plain sight, i.e. no search warrant is required when things are in plain sight; b.) she was worried about me; c.) she wanted to give me the benefit of the doubt and hoped that by reading it, the truth [of the joke] would be revealed.

Needless to say, I get home from school and see my father’s truck in the driveway. Odd, he’s never home this early. I start freaking out thinking something really bad happened. I walk in the front door. My parents are in their bedroom [which was downstairs]. They hear me come in the house and my mother comes out of the room. Tears in her eyes.

Begin panic mode now. [I still have no idea this is because of me].

I ask what’s wrong, my mother says she and dad want to talk to me about “something” in their room. Nervous, I walk in. Mum shuts the door, walks over to her dresser and picks up a piece of paper.

She tells me it was an accident, that she didn’t mean to read it, that she was just worried about me, lalala.

What do I do? I see the paper in her hand. Recognize my handwriting and…


This of course angered my parents. My father yells at me saying it’s no laughing matter…my future is ruined…lalala.

Finally I stop laughing and say, “really guys? Did you really believe that letter? It’s me guys. Me! Your daughter who has never had a boyfriend. Ever. Who is so shy around guys it’s pathetic. Really guys!”

My parents look at each other. Nervously thinking their only daughter has lost her marbles and is on her way to the loony house. I explain the letter to my parents, how it was a joke, lalala. Finally they look at each other and shrug. I apologize. My mother warns me, finger in my face, “Don’t ever joke about this again or else!” They apologize for not trusting me. We hug it out. All is forgiven.

Hey, I was fourteen what do you expect? My frontal lobe wasn’t fully developed yet!

– gypsyjess.


A few years back, it was brought to my attention that I make a certain facial expression quite frequently. I’m not really sure how to describe it exactly. Friends have described it as anywhere from my “pissed off face”, my “confused face”, my “I’m lost face”, my “don’t mess with me face”, and my “concentration face”. The latter of the list seems most appropriate though, I am lost often. Actually frequently. I have no sense of direction and my lack of short-term memory makes it difficult for me to retain the steps to complete even the easiest of tasks. I know, it’s pretty pathetic.

Apparently I have been making this face forever. Here’s proof [click photo to enlarge]:

Moving on.

Prior to my wonderful friends bringing this certain face to my attention, I began to notice something was wrong long before then. Mostly when I am shopping or enjoying a nice meal at a restaurant. I tend to “people watch”. Due to my ADD and fidgety nature, sitting still and paying attention is difficult for me. Therefore, I’m often distracted thus resulting in me constantly looking about the room. So, how did I notice this “face” of mine? Simple. By the reactions I would get from other people.

For example, I am walking down the aisle at Walmart and walking toward me is a person. This person begins to look at me and then look away. Look at me and look away. Then, as they get closer, they make some sort of reaction face as if they have just been crossed by an angry zebra. They are frightened/concerned/nervous/all of the above. For the longest time I didn’t really notice it and if I did, I just figured they were the weird ones who were pissed off.

Jump back to the first paragraph.

Since it was brought to my attention, I am now super concerned and semi-self-conscious about this “face”. Problem is, I don’t know I’m doing it. Apparently it’s just my normal face. I do tend to squint if I am trying to focus on something since my eyesight is getting worse so that may be the culprit. Either way, I am concerned. Not that I really care about what others think about me [maybe a little. I’m only human. Sheesh] but still, I don’t want people thinking I’m in a constant state of pissyness because I’m not. It’s a rarity to find me in such a state. I’m that person who’s annoyingly happy and is usually looking at the bright side of things even when the you-know-what has hit the giant, high power fan.

Anyway, the other day at dinner [CiCi’s pizza to be exact], I made a comment about how some woman gave me a weird look when she walked by our table. My friend, brother and brothers girlfriend all made the same comment, almost simultaneously, “you’re making a weird face. Which you make often actually.”

Gee thanks. How many other people know about this face? Do I really make it that often? Yikes. Another thing to add to my long list of awkward/weird quirks and habits. Giggidy Giggidy Goo!

Moving on. So what brought on this strange post?


A video, explaining this face, was posted on Facebook by a friend and I couldn’t help but remember my face. Except apparently mine happens naturally and all the time, whereas this girl can turn it on and off at will when necessary.

I should consider counseling. Do they offer counseling for social awkwardness?

To watch the video [WARNING: contains inappropriate language and content which may be inappropriate for some viewers] which is hilarious by the way, click here.

– gypsyjess.


Please read this. If you need to enlarge it just click on the photo and it will open in a new window.

My favourite part [honestly the whole thing]? The part about the hair rollers and facecreme, “wait until he is asleep as this can be shocking to a man last thing at night.”


I’m all about obeying marriage vows and keeping my husband happy but I want some fun/action too dagnabit!

And if I want to put on gobs of facecreme and pull my hair up into rollers than I will gosh darnit!

– gypsyjess.