Friday, February 13, 2009


Last night, I spent roughly two hours on the phone with T-Mobile, trying to choose a new phone number. I know it seems petty, but I’ve become pretty attached to my ten digits over the years. The excessive texting to my girlfriends over the latest boy, updating my Facebook status 24-7, giving out wrong numbers to fist pumping guidos I’m just not that into. Yeah, we’ve had some good times together me and these digits.

Many a phone I have lost to death by drowning… be it a glass, a pool, or the ever disgusting toilet. Yeah, I left that one there. But the numbers, the “digits of my being” persevered. So when it came time to choosing a new number, a new number that would be the new ten digit code to “ME,” it proved to be a relatively difficult task. I mean, these would be the numbers that people would come to associate and memorize as me, and there is a reason I have had the same number since high school… IT’S AWESOME. Easy. Simple. Repetitive. It’s no 867-5309, but it is MINE.

Sure there is the argument of all the contacts I could possibly lose, but with all the new waves in technology, surely they are only a Facebook, Myspace, or email away. But what if a casting director or producer I had met along the road suddenly found a role of job I was perfect for? Most of them really don’t have the time to bother with Google searches on the internet. So… job opportunity lost.

Then again, there are all those bad numbers. You know the ones in your phone. They usually are like “John Rogue bar” or “Kelly Nail Place.” The ones you have to write where you met the person just to have the faintest CLUE who they are in your phone. My personal favorites are the DNA's — AKA, the Do Not Answers. There is usually a reason a person is labeled this is in your phone, thus the explicit instructions in their name registry. Those are the hanger-ons, the guy at the bar that insists he sees his number register in your phone even though you have made it pretty clear you are not interested (YEAH, that happens), and the occasional stalker or dreaded ex. To date, I have about 7 DNA’s in my phone, and probably another 10 that still retain their actual names, but should have those instructions next to them.

Stalkers and ex’s are by far the biggest reason to get a new number, because unless your phone is one of those with the convenient individual block feature, some people will keep calling and texting long after you have told them to stop. Then there is the coffee call, and the random drunk texts on Valentine’s Day, the… "Hey, just wanted to see how you were" text. “I’m fine, or I was five seconds before I got this text. “

Sometimes even when it says “DNA,” our hearts simply can’t hit the red button, the one I affectionately refer to as the @$$hole button. Instead, we open ourselves up to a barrage of nasty texts, confusing conversations, and heated arguments over things that are no longer relevant in our lives. A number doesn’t validate who I am, and besides, I have changed a lot since high school. The people that were so relevant and important to me back then… well, aside from my best friends, most have just become Facebook friends, and people on the list I send Christmas cards to.

So it was time for Jenny to get a new number, and a new life. For those that receive my new number, I hope they will be wise about passing it around. Because a great new number, is a terrible thing to waste.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go memorize my new digits... Tommy Tutone style.

Jenny, I got your number,
I need to make you mine.
Jenny, don't change your number,
8-6-7-5-3-0-9 (8-6-7-5-3-0-9)
8-6-7-5-3-0-9 (8-6-7-5-3-0-9)

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

The Substitute

We have all had that one teacher that sticks out in our head. That one miserable individual you think came to school simply to torture little children for a few hours away from her normal bunny-boiling schedule. Sick twisted individuals that never got hired as real teachers, probably because they'd be better suited to be on Dateline NBC with Chris Hanson than putting smiles on young faces. I remember my nightmare substitute teacher well. Even remember her name, even though I can't remember the name of my best friend from that particular grade. For the sake of not calling out this individual, that surprisingly still has a job in the education system, let’s just call her Ms. Blah Blah.

Of course, she was unmarried. I mean, who would want to spend the rest of their waking life with this woman?.. She was the only teacher I had, whose icy cold stare alone had the ability to make me burst into tears. She even took away my star on the award board. My STAR!!! What kind of heartless bitch WAS this woman???.. I was a straight A student until I was in high school, never caused any behavioral disturbances in my entire educational career. And this woman was hell-bent on making me cry in front of the class.

It all started in kindergarten. She subbed maybe once or twice for my teacher that year. I spent naptime on my plastic cot with one eye open around this bitch on wheels. Then, she appeared again in first grade, when, if I am not mistaken my teacher got half the year off on maternity leave, so I was forced to deal with this heartless mutant. And then again in third grade. Sheesh! How does this woman still have a job??.. Are their no better candidates in the substitute pool than HER???.. It was always the highlight of my miserable days with her, when the bell would ring signaling the end of her reign.

When I graduated elementary school, I thought I had finally rid myself of Ms. Blah Blah. Then, one fateful day, as I strolled into my eighth grade algebra class, there she was. I had finally had it. I threw my hands up, excused myself to go to the clinic to get tested for Ebola or something crazy… and left. Never to see Ms. Blah Blah again.

That is the thing about substitutes. They are only supposed to be for a limited time. To fill in for the original, because lets face it, nothing really compares. In fact, I honestly believe in life that there are substitute people. I’m pretty sure I have even been one of them. We’re simply there to hold the place between the real thing and the next real thing. People treat us poorly, and do things to us they know damn well they could never get away with under normal circumstances… in a REAL relationship.

Some people may refer to such individuals as rebounds. I wouldn't necessarily use that term, because rebound would imply they helped me get past something. (And it’s never been my philosophy to get under someone to get over someone.) Instead, I think of them more as transition people to get us our next journey in life-- kinda like an Interim coach. They’re there during a crisis situation to fill in for the big guy til the next big guy gets hired. Still, what if you thought all along you were up for head coaching job, just to be passed over when that person was ready to take the next step? There’s nothing worse than being a substitute and not knowing it. It ranks up there with being the ass of a bad joke, or outside the circle of trust. Because there’s nothing worse than thinking you’re up for promotion, then getting fired.

Then again, sometimes if substitutes do really well… they ARE the next big guy. Same thing when a player gets injured. Take, Wally Pipp, first baseman for the Yankees in 1925. Legend has it he sat out one game with a terrible headache, and some kid subbed for him. Some kid named Lou Gehrig. Gehrig went on to play in 1,925 consecutive games. The streak only ended when Gehrig was so debilitated due to amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), or as it's commonly known now - Lou Gehrig's disease. And that is how a substitute… became a legend.

I guess at some point, we’ve all been the substitute, or the kids who wreak havoc while the real teachers away. There’s nothing wrong with either role, so long as all the players know their part. Who knows?.. With a little patience and understanding, maybe you’ll be the substitute turned superstar.

As for Ms. Blah Blah, it was years down the road, my senior year of high school to be exact, when she walked into my band class sporting a huge rock. That’s right, Ms. Blah Blah was now Mrs. Blah Blah-Blah. Sure, she was just as miserable and mean as I remembered, but now.. I was a hell of a lot stronger and wiser than I had been in our previous run-ins. Besides, I loved band class, and there was no way in hell I was letting some bitchy substitute rain on my marching parade.

Mrs. Blah Blah-Blah currently resides in Tampa and still substitute teaches in Hillsborough County. Those poor, poor children…

Sucks to be them.

Monday, February 09, 2009

Your girl is lovely, Hubbell

No matter how many relationships we have, it never seems to get any easier. It’s not the break up part that really cuts you to the core. It’s seeing the face of the new girl. Your replacement that sends your world into pieces.

It seems to me there are two types of girls. There are simple girls. And Katie girls. No, I don’t mean girls named Katie, but more… just the thought of what a “Katie” girl represents. For those of you not as well versed in the film career of Miss Barbra Streisand, she and Robert Redford starred in a movie about complicated love. Barbra’s character, Katie falls in love with a boy (Hubbell) she knew from college years before, and the two begin this long and torrid on and off relationship. They soon both find themselves sacrificing parts of their own identities and dreams, til Hubbell begins an affair on a pregnant Katie, and leaves her after their daughter is born. Fast forward years later, when the two encounter one another face to face. They both realize they are still very much in love with each other, though they are now with two very different people, Katie with a new man, and Hubbell with the stereotypically pretty girl. The two have a brief conversation and remember the “They way they were.” Then, Katie turns to Hubbell in the movie’s final moments, and tells him, “Your girl is lovely, Hubbell.” It’s at this point in the movie that Hubbell realizes he still loves Katie, but that they could never be together again, because he could never live up to her standards of him. And the two part, and go their separate ways.

We all know these types of relationships. They are the kind that no matter how you try, things are just never simple enough, and they never get easier. The problem with these relationships is that they often seem to be the most fulfilling and dynamic. The highs are high. The lows are low. Yet at the same time they’re the most destructive, because by the time you realize they are not going to work, it’s too late. For everyone.

So in the end, you each move on to your next relationship. Some take time to heal, while others just jump in to whatever comes there way next. It’s just something inevitable we will all face. Enter: the new girl. Until now, she has had no face. She was simply an “idea.” The “idea” that he had in fact moved on. But, now… she has a face and the rules of the game change. Now, she is real. She is blonde, pretty, and perfect. Everything you are not. You knew this was coming all along, so why does it hurt now that she has a face??.. Now there is no denying you two were never meant to work out, because you simply couldn’t be all he wanted. You weren’t up to his standards, as vain and unrealistic as they were at times.

She is the “Simple” girl. The one that requires no “getting to know” because, well.. that’s really not the priority at hand. She’s gorgeous, yet simple. She hasn’t had the worldly experience you have had, because she’s the younger, hotter model… to your vintage classic. She’s young, indecisive, easily owned, because she just doesn’t know any better. She’s by no means dumb, but she’s hardly as diverse, well read, or eccentric as you. You were arm candy with your own opinion, when he can still help mold hers. That’s because you’re the “Katie girl.”

If you’re a woman reading this, and wondering what realm you fall into, then let me elaborate. The real difference between the “Simple girls” and the “Katie girls,” is the Katie girl is far from perfect, but she’s perfect in her imperfection. It’s her imperfections and her different views on life that make her the unique spirit that she is. She isn’t high maintenance necessarily. She’s just unwilling to change who she is for anyone. She’s been there, done that, and lost herself. She’s wild, unpredictable, yet… charming to almost all those she meets. Why?.. Because she is “real.”

I'm the Katie girl. I wouldn't say I'm hot, I'd say I'm unique. The ugly duckling that got a lil less ugly, grew into her awkwardness, and is still learning to love herself. Quirks and all. I’ll never be the girl that can wear white and not get it dirty, which is why I live my life in bright colors. My nail polish chips, because I am not afraid of getting my hands dirty. I wear ball caps not to make fashion statements, but because of how effortless it is in my busy life. My hair is naturally curly so no matter how many times I hit it with the straightener, when I get caught in the rain, I'm Julia Roberts all over again. I hate punishing myself at the gym, just because I have a sweet tooth, a salt tooth. Damn it, I'm just a foodie. So what if my jeans fit a little tighter after the holidays. I just want to be comfortable in my own skin. I want my life to be validated by more than pictures of me in bikinis and underwear, or by having the “hot boyfriend.” I'm a freckle factory, but that is what airbrushing is for. My tan comes off in the shower, but at least I will look great when I hit 40 by staying out of the sun. I have my opinions on sports, life, and politics, and just because they aren’t his doesn’t make them wrong, it simply makes me… myself. I think instant replay doesn’t belong in baseball, and professional athletes should be held to higher standards of behavior as role models. My views on politics don’t make me a “dumb redneck” they just mean I was raised with different values than his. I believe in manners, in “please” and “thank you.” I’m a big hearted southern girl, and if my larger than life feelings make me a little sensitive at times, then so be it. I am myself, and no one else.

I’m sick of people comparing me to this girl or that girl, especially when “that girl” came after I did. Comparing apples to oranges, oranges to cantaloupes or whatever produce is in season just isn’t fair, because we all have something different to offer. I know I have probably been the subject of comparison to another woman at one point or another. After all, every girl has “the girl” before them and unless they meet their soul mate, there will always be “the girl” after them.

It takes a lot to admit when you’re just not right for someone, but it takes a lot more to be happy for them for moving on. Part of you wants them to hurt, and feel the same pains you did, when in fact your feelings are your own and no one elses to experience. It’s not like you will all be able to sit down and all shoot the shit together, because there are too many open wounds there. Too many what if’s. It’s not fair to her or me. I’ve always been a good loser. A good miss congeniality of life. Maybe that’s because I can admit that I deserved better. Why should I change the person I am, the person he fell for, just because he couldn’t keep up?... Maybe, just maybe I am better off finding someone that is right for me. A person that fits my wackiness, my fun-loving spirit. The guy that isn’t afraid to sit with me at the diner in our pajamas because we’re hung over from the night before. The guy who will show up at the airport with a home made chauffeur sign to welcome me back. The guy that isn’t afraid to make an ass out of himself just on the off chance it might make me smile. The guy who will go that little extra because they realize the simple girls are a dime a dozen, and that Katie girls are one in a million.

Thursday, February 05, 2009

Sex, Lies, and No Videotape

Ever since Sept 5, 2005, people have often drawn numerous comparisons of me to Pamela Anderson. Both discovered in the stands of a sporting event. Both went on to appear in men’s magazines like Maxim and Playboy. But now, some people are starting rumors that we share a new common link as public figures: a secret sex tape.

I have never understood the theory behind the sex tape. I mean, who on earth really needs to video tape their most intimate moments with someone as if it’s no more important than watching last Sunday’s game film?.. Are you supposed to critique your performance?? Identify your strengths and weaknesses?.. Improve your technique?? Analyze where you could stand to lose a pound or two?.. Really, I am not quite sure where this whole fascination lies. I honestly have a hard enough time watching my road-shows and my E! specials without critiquing myself. I’m not about to remove all dignity and clothes from the equation.

So here is the deal: It’s no big secret that for most of 2008 I was seeing Rich Davis of the "Covino and Rich" show that broadcasts on SiriusXM. If you are not familiar with the show, you should’s a raw, funny uncensored version of the magazine… something like a mix of Howard Stern and Maxim Magazine on the air. Sometime over the summer of 2008, there was a discussion on the show about people making sex tapes, and in the bit was the joke that Rich and I had made one. And of course, various blogging sites picked up on that. Well, funny thing is, the part of the show where Rich finally admitted that there never was a sex tape and that the whole thing was a bit didn’t make the blogger's sites back then. That whole mess died down after a few weeks. At the end of 2008, Rich and I decided between us that it was better for us just being friends...and we went our separate ways in a mutual and amicable split. I wish him and the show all the best in the future; however I just wanted my personal life to not be a part of the show anymore.

Cut to current day: My web administrator and my friends are constantly getting bombarded with the latest Google alerts on me. So imagine their disgust when the latest barrage of alerts still dealt with this supposed sex tape of mine that’s lurking out there waiting to be sold to Vivid or whatever other company is waiting for the “Next Night in Paris.” It’s always been my belief that the people who have to run their mouths about sex clearly aren’t getting any, and probably won’t until they learn what it’s like to be in adult relationships. Those of you who regularly read my blog…Clearly, I am a pretty open person and far from being a prude, but I am certainly not a whore either. What goes on behind closed doors should really just stay there. And if it doesn’t?.. Well, maybe you should reassess who you spend your private time with. Those are not the type of guys you share your intimate moments with, let alone document them. They’re no better than the guys from the “Jaegerbombs” video.

So in short, let me state it officially once again: There is NO sex video, there never has been, and there never will be. Case closed Mr. Gil Grissom.

While trying to get my work done down here in Florida, and enjoy what few days in the sun I can, I encountered an amazing amount of bad luck and unfortunate circumstances, most of which were entirely out of my control. People I once had really deep feelings for were targets of malicious and deceitful lies, by others with hidden agendas and borderline sick obsessions. It really baffles me how people can be so fake to one another, and hide under the guise of the Lord and being “good Christians”, when in reality they are amongst the most hypocritical and false-hearted on the planet. These are the same people that try to align themselves with me for their own selfish gains, the ability to name drop, and whatever other self-indulging schemes they can come up with next. What’s further insulting is their lame excuses of how they “just didn’t think before they opened their mouth,” or that they needed closure or to be at peace with themselves. Oh cut the crap. They knew what they were doing, they knew what repercussions their actions would have, and those actions had nothing to do with making things “right.”

I guess it all comes down to me being a little more selective of the people I allow into my life. If people seem too good to be true, they probably are. I’m often accused of being far too na├»ve, when in reality I’m just too nice. I say I don’t give second chances, when in reality sometimes I hang on to something long after its expiration date. For far too long, I have allowed these energy vampires into my life and allowed them to manipulate me for their own personal gains and ego. Finally, this weekend, I had simply had enough. Some of them vanity-read this very blog, while others are barely smart enough to comprehend the multi-syllabic words in it. Regardless, I’m tired of all the lies, the rumors, and the deceit in my life. If I am going to live my life in the public eye and let perfect strangers scrutinize it, the least I can do is set the facts straight.

Sorry this blog wasn’t as entertaining or as lighthearted as others. Sometimes a girl just has to take care of business and take out the trash.

I just did it.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Link to all of Jenn Sterger's Super Bowl Blogs on

Hello everyone!

As requested in the many emails to our site, here are all of Jenn's blogs she wrote while home in Tampa for the Super Bowl. Below is a list of each individual blog, as well as a link to all of them at the end of the list. So enjoy them all!!

Individual Blogs:

Blog #1: Intro Blog - Tampa Super Bowl blogging with Jenn Sterger!

Blog #2: Wednesday night - Jenn Sterger takes Tampa a day at a time

Blog #3: Thursday Night - Jenn Sterger squeezes into Madden Bowl huddle

Blog #4: Friday Night - Not even Jerry Rice can cheer up Jenn Sterger

Blog #5: Saturday Night - A quiet dinner with Jenn Sterger? Heavenly!

Blog #6: Wrap Up - Jenn Sterger leaves Tampa (and G-strings) behind

Master Link to all posts: All of Jenn's posts from Tampa