Heather Juergensen

Heather Juergensen

  • Born: 1970-1-2
  • Height: 5' 9" (1.75 m)
  • Extended Reading
    • Dolores 2022-03-18 08:01:01

      This is the reality, and we must move on

      After watching the last episode of Kissing Jesscia Stein on Potatoes, and seeing commenters complaining about the fly-swallowing ending, I thought it was the right ending. I'm glad that this is not another tragic film. It's not about sexual orientation, but about how modern people can grow into...

    • Allene 2022-03-18 08:01:01

      <Marriage Notice> It's not her who evolved into the groom

      The blind date scene at the beginning suddenly reminded me of a novel I read
      The strange men made the heroine feel no sense of love,
      so she wanted to make friends through other people , so she
      met another woman by chance. It

      's just that things didn't turn out as well as she thought
      she was...

    • Letha 2022-04-22 07:01:55

      What's the matter in the front and the back? .

    • Garrick 2022-03-25 09:01:23

      The bad ending just pissed me off. . .

    Kissing Jessica Stein quotes

    • Jessica: [telling Helen why her relationship with Larry didn't work out] He just wasn't funny, you know? That's always been my problem, I think. Not smart or not funny. Or not smart and not funny. Or smart, but in a totally unappealing way like funny stupid or funny dopy, rather than funny witty, or funny irony or funny goofy. Or, you think they're smart- and then you realize that they're not- and that's funny. But funny tragic. And then, if you're lucky enough to find someone who's the right kind of smart and the right kind of funny, usually they're just... kinda...

      Helen: Ugly?

      Jessica: Ugly, exactly. Oh my god, is that awful?

      Helen: No, not at all. Ugly doesn't do it for you. That's okay. See me, I'm kinda into ugly... But only if it's sexy ugly.

    • Jessica: You don't appreciate the chaos and absurdity of life on this planet. You don't understand irony, or ethnicity, or eccentricity, or poetry, or the simple joy of being a regular at the diner on your block. I love that. You don't drink coffee or alcohol. You don't over eat. You don't cry when you're alone. You don't understand sarcasm. You plod through life in a neat, colorless, caffeine free, dairy free, conflict free way. I'm bold and angry and tortured and tremendous and I notice when someone has changed their hair part, or when someone is wearing two very distinctly different shades of black or when someone changes the natural temperment of their voice on the phone. I don't give out empty praise. I'm not complacent or well-adjusted. I can't spend fifteen minutes breathing and stretching and getting in touch with myself. I can't spend three minutes finishing an article. I check my answering machine nine times every day and I can't sleep at night because I feel that there is so much to do and fix and change in the world, and I wonder every day if I am making a difference and if I will ever express the greatness within me, or if I will remain forever paralyzed by muddled madness inside my head. I've wept on every birthday I've ever had because life is huge and fleeting and I hate certain people and certain shoes and I feel that life is terribly unfair and sometimes beautiful and wonderful and extraordinary but also numbing and horrifying and insurmountable and I hate myself a lot of the time. The rest of the time I adore myself and I adore my life in this city and in this world we live in. This huge and wondrous, bewildering, brilliant, horrible world.