Chick-fil-A Tried to Kill Me

This has gone too far. The swan song of the hate chicken has finally hit a sour note.

How dare you attempt to poison me! And with a silent migraine, no less. We’ve gotten along just fine for all this time, but I go to one Pride Blockparty. Coincidence? I think not.


The nerve. The blatant bigotry of completely ignoring my unique food allergy that I failed to inform you about! Putting delicious mandarin oranges in the fruit cup! Monstrous.

I am THE VICTIM here! Nevermind that you clearly display the presence of those diabolical spheres of swelling and misery in your menu photo. #citrusprivilege

I didn’t even eat them. I stabbed them with my fork and put them aside. But it was already too late. You didn’t even warn me that stabbing oranges may spread their juices indiscriminately across the strawberries and blueberries. Typical. So patriarchy. Did the melons consent to being sprayed with those fluids? Please.

Someone fund my pain and suffering!! I will not be satisfied until I have my own clothing line and reality show!

Yes, I’m kidding. I know I’m allergic. I know they put oranges in the fruit cup. I should have been smart enough to realize that removing the offending wedges by stabbing them with my fork was maybe not the brightest idea. Or just had the waffle fries.

That’s Right! I Promised You Baby Birds!

So I got a little delayed with that. Sorry. Here are your birds.


This is a baby cardinal that recently hatched at my in-laws house. I think I will call him Stanley.


I think the various and sundry blog issues have been sorted. Please let me know if you run into any issues.

Also, I got to experience a silent migraine. No stars. I do not recommend this experience. Will not be ordering again.

Apparently, Comments are still broken

Feel free to email if you see any additional issues. Hopefully, we’ll get this all sorted soon. There’s always the nuke it option. I have my archives backed up.

I’ll share baby birds or something tomorrow.

Hi! So, This Site Was Hacked

Actually, everything on our account with the web host was hacked. So if you saw some…er…unsavory links popping up in headers, that wasn’t me. I hope you didn’t follow any of those links. I’m not here to judge you or your proclivities, but I’m sure those links were not what they promised and probably carried all sorts of BTDs (Browsing Transmitted Disease).

It was ugly and annoying. It should be fixed now. You may notice that SiteLock badge in the lower left. Yeah, they de-loused it for me. Yes, I could have done it myself, but frankly I just didn’t want to screw with it. Besides, they assure me that they are guarding the henhouse for me.

The whole mess fubar ‘d my theme so I’ll be experimenting with some new and different looks around here. If you love/hate something, let me know. Screenshots would be helpful as I’m likely to be wrenching pretty quickly so comments to the effect of ‘this looks cool/like crap’ won’t help without a reference point. You can email me at Jennifer AT injennifershead DOT com.

I’ve been busy. Work is insane lately. But my boss and I got together with one of the internal auditors and a couple of interns and did a thing. I don’t have everyone’s permission to share the thing with the whole of the internets, but I’ll share some pictures. I’ll update if I get the go-ahead. Yeah, it’s a song. It’s silly. I’ve done better vocal work, but this was tremendously fun.

I told the interns my Made in England Doc Martens are older than they are. The internal auditor commented that they were cute and wanted to know where I’d gotten them. I answered, “The Ninety’s.”

Here, have a behind the scenes pic just because.


And one more of our silly selves posing in front of the building


We are GAAP (Generally Accepted Accounting Personnel). Comin’ Atcha!

Here’s hoping I can get back to a more regular posting schedule.

On Being Nice

Recently, a friend shared this story over on the book of face

Today at <restaurant> while <child’s name> and I were eating a man started talking to <child’s name> about his stuffed animal.

Man: that’s an unusual dog. ( it’s a teddy bear)
Child: [looks at man. Does not respond]
Man: you aren’t gonna talk to me ??
Child: [looks away]
Me: no he isn’t .

A. You are a stranger . My son is not being “rude,” and there is no reason for him to discuss or chat with you .
B. We teach kids not to talk to strangers. Social niceties are not necessarily a good practice for kids
C. ‪#‎sorrynotsorry‬

Bravo, I say!

But, of course, there was dissent, this is the internet, after all. One commenter lamented that it was “sad” that she was “creating unnecessary fear” in her child. Another tried to make the argument that it wasn’t a threatening situation. Another implied that she was teaching her son to be rude and disrespectful.

All because she supported her son’s choice not to speak to a stranger. This is insanity.

As a society, we’ve developed this warped idea that not nice=rude. There’s space between. He was not impolite, and he was not rude. He has absolutely no responsibility to be nice. He should be, and I assume he is, kind where warranted, but he doesn’t have to be nice. 

No one has the responsibility to be nice. You do not have to speak to the stranger in the parking lot that just needs a bit of change, or gas money, or…Well, really that stranger just wanted to get close enough to grab your wallet or steal your car. Or worse.

Because of course you should be nice to the young man that wants to sit in on your Bible study.

Sure, she was right there. The risk potential of that situation was minimal, but what kind of lesson does that teach her child? If Mom encourages him to be nice to the stranger in the restaurant, how should he react to the stranger in the bathroom? As a parent, you have to think beyond the moment. You must model the skill set so your child can make appropriate decisions in the future.

My friend pointed out that later, her son approached the cashier and politely requested a refill of his beverage. This doesn’t sound like he’s being crushed by unnecessary fear of people. Instead, he is learning an appropriate level of caution.

Living in a polite society does not mean that you must be nice to strangers. Of course, one should not be rude, impolite, or unkind, but that does not mean you owe it to anyone to be nice.





An Open Letter to the Duggar Daughters

I’m so very sorry this happened to you. That your trust and physical autonomy was violated by someone so close to you. It should never have happened, and no matter what anyone tells you, it was not your fault. It is something that happened to you, and despite the harm done, it does not have to define you. The guilt is not yours to carry in any fashion.

It’s okay to be angry about it. The news says that your brother asked for and received your forgiveness, and I hope that is true. Really and fully true. I hope that he came to you with humility and remorse and that you granted him your forgiveness out of a desire to release yourself from the anger, and not to save the very public face of your family. Your forgiveness does not excuse his actions, but it does release you of the burden.

You are not broken. You likely carry scars and sometimes they will flare up. I’m sure having your story broadcast to the world has reopened your trauma. I’m sorry for that too. Mostly, I’m so very sorry that your brother inflicted that trauma in the first place.

It breaks my heart to see your parents rallying behind your abuser with nary a mention of you. I’m sorry that your parents turned your lives into such a circus and present their faith as a grotesque caricature of Christianity. You deserve the support and protection right now. Just as you deserved it back then.

Unfortunately, yes, bad things happen even in good Christian households. Families participate in denial and cover-ups. It’s not because they are Christian; it’s because they are human. People without sin have no need of salvation. I hope this has not shaken your faith. It was your brother, not God, that let you down.

I want you to know there are people out there praying for and supporting you. That you are not alone.

Mad Max: Fury Road Is Not Feminist Propaganda

If it was meant to be, they missed the mark. I know, some people wanted so desperately for it to be that they twisted the story to match up with their pre-conceived notions. You know, because that never happens.

It’s a fire-breathing action movie with a power babe* and an excellent entry into the Mad Max franchise. Seriously, go see it. It’s awesome. No man or woman will be ruined by seeing it. At least, none that aren’t ruined already.

Yes, there are going to be spoilers ahead. This is your warning. It will be COMPLETELY FULL OF SPOILERS!

Ready? Don’t read if you plan on seeing the movie. I mean it.

Let’s just go on and throw a trigger warning here too since I can’t keep up with what upsets people lately.

Fans of the originals already know Max is a broken man just trying to survive in a broken world with no hope of redemption. It’s made him hard. The world hasn’t gotten any better. Shortly after the story opens, Max is overtaken, captured, and turned into a living blood bank in the Citadel.

Imperator Furiosa is a desperate woman. She’s learned that to survive in this man’s world, she’s got to be smart, and she’s got to be deadly. And don’t think for a moment that the world of Fury Road is anything but a man’s world. We don’t know exactly how, but she has worked her way to a position of responsibility under Immortan Joe. Probably because she’s good with machines. (If I may be so bold as to read between the lines, I’m going to go ahead and assume the shaved head was an attempt by Furiosa to minimize her femininity in such a heavily male dominated world.)

She drives and maintains a War Rig. She’s also smuggling out Immortan Joe’s breeders under the guise of a fuel run. Yes, Immortal Joe keeps women in sexual slavery in an attempt to impregnate them with his sons. Nothing is mentioned of daughters. His elder sons drink mothers milk which comes from other women being kept as dairy cows. Feeling empowered, ladies?

Immortan Joe learns of the betrayal and rallies the war boys to follow him into battle to retrieve his property. Yes, he considers these women his property. He also admonishes them not to harm a single hair on their heads. Yep, they are just pretty things with wombs. Rah! Rah! Sisterhood!

Mad Max gets chained to a war boy so he can continue to bleed for him and strapped to battle vehicle. Epic battle ensues. Explosions, madness, chaos. Max is pissed that not only are they stealing his blood but they’ve got his car as well.

Somewhere in the midst of the first battle, we get a glimpse of the breeders. They are whining because they are uncomfortable. Nevermind that Furiosa is risking her life for them. They are uncomfortable.

More explosions and we reach the pause in the first battle. Max has gotten free of the battle vehicle, but he’s still chained to and bleeding into a war boy. He comes upon Furiosa and the breeders. Yep, they are pretty and scantily clad and playing in the hose. They have bolt cutters, but they are too weak to cut Max free from the war boy. In fact, even though Furiosa catches a few good openings, Max still beats her in hand to hand combat while chained and bleeding. The war boy, thinking he can now return in triumph with the wives, cuts Max free. Yes, it required a man to cut the chain. Max commandeers the War Rig.

Ah, but Furiosa is not so easily beaten. She’s smart enough that she saw it coming and had wired kill switches. She talks her way back into the truck and is soon telling Mad Max that she ‘needs’ him. They soon form a tenuous partnership and fight many more epic battles. Yep, she’s the better shot. No, she doesn’t take the rifle, he hands it to her because he knows he can’t make the shot. A man’s got to know his limitations.

And, believe me, they are epic. Flame throwing guitar and mad crazy drummer truck epic. Pay the extra for the 3D.

In the end, it’s still Mad Max that wins the day and finds his redemption. And in true hero fashion, wanders off into the sunset away from the glory.

Yes, the bad ass power babe couldn’t have done it without the man. Totally feminist.

*You know, like Ripley, or Sarah Connor, or Tank Girl, or…. Yeah, Imperator Furiosa is totally groundbreaking and will single-handedly suck the testosterone from society .

(Edited for typos)


My life has been over-cluttered, not just with the things I’ve collected that are scattered about my house (although that’s certainly an issue), but with too many distractions and influences that aren’t really adding to my quality of life. It’s time I do something about it.

No, I’m not about to do some mass Facebook unfriending, but there will be some. If you are reading this, you aren’t likely to be on the chopping block, particularly if we interact on a regular basis. Quite honestly, that paring down process has already begun, but I seriously doubt those that have been cut have noticed.

I’m simplifying my feedreader. I just don’t have the time or inclination to read each and every blog currently listed there. I find more and more often that I am hitting the mark as read button anyway. Again, those that will be removed aren’t likely to notice as I probably haven’t been interacting with them already.

And yeah, stuff. I have books that I haven’t gotten around to reading that I probably never will. I have half-finished projects that I should really be honest about and pass on. I have too many “things that may come in handy someday.” So many, in fact, that if someday ever came, I’d never find them.

I want my house to a place where I can welcome my friends. I can’t do that today. And I want my relationships to be real and interactive. I have no need for drama and gossip in my life. It doesn’t enrich my life or make me a better person.

Why should I even tell you this? I don’t know. Few, if any, of you will even be affected. If I suddenly vanish from your friends list and you miss me, message me. I probably cut you off by mistake. That is not my intent.

My intent is a refocus on what is really important. I saw so many people who I really care about this weekend, most of whom had fallen out of touch. I met their children that I didn’t even know existed. I saw the devastation on the other side of my city where people lost their homes and all their stuff. Nobody cared about the stuff. They were just glad to be alright and able to be together.

I want more of that and less clutter. I want to shoot more, both firearms and photographs. And I want to share it all with the people who really matter. People that are a real part of my life, both online and off.

Am I going to stop blogging? Fat chance, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily! Hopefully, I’ll blog more. I want the conversation. The real conversations rather than the drive by kind. And hey! We’ve made some tasty food that I need to share with you all.