Tuesday, August 31, 2004

the one where i write about coffee . . . again

Against my better judgement last night, I made some coffee. My reasoning was, I had to finish The Picture of Dorian Gray (which I did, and I loved) for class today. I was still at a slow part of the book. If I'd known how good it was going to get in the next few chapters, I wouldn't have needed the coffee to stay awake.

I love coffee. I really do. I didn't start drinking it until spring break when we'd have it after dinner every night. Now I smell it and I (practically) start salivating. There's something about drinking it that reminds me of all-nighters up in Hollenbeck.

Maybe that's why I couldn't sleep last night. I didn't drink THAT much of it, but I don't think I really fell asleep all night.

Should make today interesting.

Monday, August 30, 2004

this is why altavista was invented

Is anyone else completely addicted to that new navigation bar thing at the top of everyone's blogs? Sometimes when I'm bored or have nothing to do (which is a lot) I'll just click away on the Next Blog button. It's fun. Like a game.

I especially love the blogs in different languages. I just stare at the screen and wonder what it says. Today, for instance, I came across this blog. This first sentence in the first post is CHINGA TU MADRE!

I have very limited Spanish-speaking skills, but even I know most of the bad words. Chinga tu madre means fuck your mother.

If you go to Altavista's very handy Babel Fish translation website (10 bonus points to anyone who knows where the Babel Fish comes from) you can translate the entire website into English. What makes it fun is that there are some things it doesn't translate. Chinga tu madre, for instance, comes back as "Chinga your mother." I guess they don't translate curse words.

Also, the translations are very literal, with such gems as "with the eyes still sleepy" and "take hold the keys."

Even with the translation, though, I'm not sure I got the total gist of the post. And there are some other words that Altavista wouldn't translate. They must be dirty.

Sunday, August 29, 2004

ch-ch-changes . . . again

I changed my template again. I was getting bored with the other one. I think the problem is that I haven't found one that I really like. I keep finding ones I kinda sorta like and then I try and fiddle with them so I like them more.

This would be so much easier if I just knew how to make my own, but that seems like a lot of work.

I don't know how long this one will last. I don't know what's going on with the navigation bar at the top, and I don't like the green background color very much.

Friday, August 27, 2004


I was just walking through my room, not really paying attention, and I hit my toes on the side of my bed. Is there any pain greater than that?

I mean, aside from childbirth and getting kicked in the balls. From what I've been told. I've never experienced either, so I'm not the best judge.

The sad thing was that right after I did it, as I'm sitting there grasping my foot in pain, this thought entered my mind:

"If I broke my toe, I can do first aid on myself because I'm certified!"

Because if I wasn't certified, I would have just let my broken toes* turn green and fall off.

*I didn't really break my toes (that I know of), I'm just a wuss. Also, I don't think broken toes usually turn green. Or fall off.

things I need to stop doing immediately:

Belting the lyrics to Total Eclipse of the Heart in the car when it comes on the radio. It scares the other drivers and is making me hoarse. Also? I'm singing the version from Old School, and that is just sad.

Talking to my dog like she's a person. I'm well on my way to becoming scary, hermit, cat-lady.

Having a bowl of Mac & Cheese and a piece of bread for dinner and pretending it's a well-balanced meal.

Making snap judgements about people with Bush/Cheney '04 stickers on their car.

Pretending my obsession with blogging is normal. (But, wait, it is!)

Thinking my fish is evil and trying to kill me, just because I forgot to clean his bowl for a month and I also forgot to feed him for like two days.

Watching Fox News for the sole purpose of making myself angry. Fair and balanced, my ass.

Checking away messages on AIM every two minutes. If someone has been idle for 3 hours, chances are their away message hasn't changed.

On the same note, checking my e-mail obsessively.

Drinking an exorbitant amount of coffee/soda/water right before getting in the car for a long drive. No one is going to give me a medal for making it to a bathroom without peeing myself. However, they will probably look at me strangely and run if I have a large wet spot on my crotch.

Trying to use Word of the Day words in normal conversation. People look at me funny when I say things like copacetic.

Daydreaming while driving, reading, watching TV, walking, speaking, listening to someone speak, showering, etc. I should really start paying attention to, well, everything.

Throwing my shoes in the closet all haphazardly.

Yelling curse words when I'm home alone just because I can.

Checking out books from the library every week, even though I have piles of unread library books in my room already.

Procrastinating. (Shyeah, RIGHT, like that'll ever happen)

Smoking crack. Haha, just kidding. I'll never stop smoking crack.

straight up now tell me

I just heard Paula Abdul's "Straight Up Now Tell Me" on the radio.

That's fine.


I heard it on the "Rockin' Oldies" station.

Rockin' Oldies? Paula Abdul?

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Or Ohio. Whatever.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

why mr. darcy should be in every movie

So we watched The Importance of Being Earnest in class today.

It's not that I didn't like it. Parts of it were really funny. I was just kind of tired, and there was no Colin Firth.

I don't want to obsess on this point, but the majority of the people in the class are women, so I think everyone would have paid more attention if the two lead actors weren't so . . . squirrely looking.

If they had looked more like Colin Firth and Rupert Everett, I don't think everyone would have sprinted out of the classroom like they did.

I'm just saying.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

back off, old man river

Yesterday was the first day of my last class at Wittenberg. It's strange to go to class but not be living on campus. I almost turned into the parking lot of Faculty Court (where I lived last year) after class.

I think the class, 20th Century British Lit, is going to be interesting. Out of all the lit classes I've had, I've always enjoyed American lit better, but I think that's because I just had better professors (one in particular) for those subjects. We're watching The Importance of Being Earnest tomorrow, and I was really excited about it because Colin Firth is in it. Unfortunately, we're watching the 1952 version, so no Mr. Darcy for me.

Last night I got together with a few friends at Elsa's (home of the Bad Juan margarita). After dinner a few of us went to a bar to have a beer, but this old guy kept coming over to talk to us. He came over because of Nicole's shoulders. He asked her if she was a swimmer (she is) and told her she should model. He told me I look like I'm a musical person because I have shorter hair and nice teeth (ok?) and that I have an operatic laugh (again, ok?). He told Nancy that she reminded him of Sarah Jessica Parker and that she should be in NYC wearing little black dresses and producing shows. Oh, and also she has a melodic laugh.

Then he started talking about biorhythms so we left.

When he first came over he told us he didn't drink (the slurred speech and stumbling suggested otherwise). The second or third time he came over, he was carrying a beer.

He was harmless, but I have to wonder what gets into a person's head that they're just going to decide to become best friends with complete strangers. We even told him that we don't get to see each other very often, so we were catching up. I think most people would infer that we wanted to be left alone.

Nancy and I decided that we're too nice. We're also devising a code we can use to get out of uncomfortable situations that might arise in the future.

Any suggestions?

Tuesday, August 24, 2004


What the hell was going on with men's gymnastics? Did anyone watch that?

And why is it that so many gymnasts (Paul Hamm, Carly Patterson, and Kerry Strug from back in the day) have voices like chipmunks?

Tonight as I was leaving Sinclair, the elevator doors opened and a blast from the past entered. This guy I went to high school with walked onto the elevator and for a minute I was back at Fairmont.


It took me the entire ride and the walk down the hallway to remember his name, and by the time I did he was walking into another classroom.

Monday, August 23, 2004

you can tell i should be studying, because this is my second post in 3 hours

I'm looking through my CPR notes and wondering about my sanity (or my professor's, if he actually said these things). I write bizarre things.

DON'T press on the zyphoid process!! You'll break it, it will lacerate the liver and they'll die and it will be all your fault.

No stomping on broken legs.

Do head-to-toe exam by looking or gentle touching (no bad touching, though).

Poor slurred speech - shock or head injury (or v. drunk).

No bluffing. (?)

Repeat until baby starts screaming.

Stay low over victim so you don't get dizzy and pass out on top of them.

Human bites are highly infections, ex. zombies.

Rabies deadly to any animal except bats (another reason to hate bats.)

Breath smells like gas (petroleum, not farts).

Chiggers secrete a digestive enzyme that liquifies the skin so they can eat it (bug zombies?)

note to self

It's not a good idea to study your CPR/First Aid book while eating lunch. There are gross pictures of burns, cuts, and bones sticking out of skin. There is also a drawing of someone's intestines spilling out of their stomach. You don't ever need to see that, especially when you have just taken a bite of spaghetti.

Also? You've had way too much coffee today.

I think you have a problem.

And practicing CPR on a pillow does not count as studying.

Neither does watching ER.

Especially when you're really watching because Carter is yummy.

That's a beautiful dress you have on, Tommy

The other night I was watching Jeopardy, as I tend to do these days since The Ken Jennings Show is on hiatus. It was the teen competition, and the contestants were two boys and a girl.

I don't remember what the scores were coming into final Jeopardy, but they were pretty close. The Final Jeopardy question was something like, "This children's series began with the book Kristy's Big Idea."

Both boys stared blankly forward or at where they were supposed to be writing their answers, while the girl smiled and immediately started writing.

The answer is, of course, The Babysitter's Club.

I was telling my dad about it later, and laughing because I thought it was funny that the boys had those "oh shit, I should have paid more attention to my little sister" looks on their faces. But my dad said the question was unfair because The Babysitter's Club is a "girl" series of books. And while I'll agree, girls are the main readers of that series, I don't think it's completely fair to imply that that's the only reason she got the answer right.

I started thinking back to the books I read when I was younger, and most of the protagonists were boys. I didn't mind, of course, because I enjoyed the books no matter who the narrator was.

But there's some hypocrisy there. We think it's perfectly fine for girls to read "boy" books, but if we saw a boy reading The Babysitter's Club, we'd think he's a little strange. Why would a boy want to read girl books?

It's not just books, though. Girls are allowed to play with dolls and GI Joes, kitchen sets and toy cars, but a boy who plays with Barbies? I don't think so.

Girls are allowed to be tomboys (at least until a certain age); it's acceptable for them to play sports, wear jeans all the time, and get dirty. But when was the last time you saw a little boy walking around in a dress while carrying his favorite Barbie?

It reminds me of the story A Child Called X that we read in a sociology class I once had. A couple is given a child by some corporation and all they have to do is raise it genderless. They call it Child X, I think. Child X wears overalls and dresses, plays with toy trucks and dolls, and has no idea it is supposed to be classified as "boy" or "girl." Of course, this freaks everyone out.

It's kind of like Pat, from Saturday Night Live, only smaller and less annoying.

Friday, August 20, 2004

bon voyage, craigy

Craig Kilborn is quitting his late night talk show. Oh no! The rivers shall run dry and the children shall weep! However will I fill the void? Oh, I know! I'll just watch Conan O'Brien and continue to pretend Craig Kilborn does not exist, like I always have.

I love Conan O'Brien, but I cannot stand Craig Kilborn. I think he's a smarmy asshat. I love that he left hosting The Daily Show to pursue bigger and better things, but the show is better than ever without him. Granted, the main reason it's better is because of Jon Stewart, who is smarter and more likeable than Kilborn.

In case you can't tell, I love Jon Stewart, too. If they could find a way to combine the DNA of Conan O'Brien and Jon Stewart, we'd have SuperLateNightHost!Man and we'd never be bored when we have insomnia.

I don't know why Craig Kilborn is quitting. Does he think he's gonna be a big movie star? The only movie I've ever seen him in was Old School, and guess what character he played. The smarmy, cheating, asshat.

Way to act outside the box, there, Craig.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

splish, splash

It's not raining right now, but there is a gentle river flowing down the street in front of our house.

The reason for this? Apparently a water main broke. The same water main that broke last year and would mildly flood the street. They fixed it that time by patching over the crack in the street where the water came out. I'm sure it was more technical than that, but this is the answer I'm most comfortable with so let's go with it, shall we?

When my dad got home from work tonight he said that water was coming up out of the street by our driveway. Soon it was flowing more heavily, and then little geysers of water started to sprout out of cracks in the patch they'd put over the original leak last year.

Eventually, enough water was flowing to push up the concrete and make an actual bubble in the street.

At some point, a city worker came out, walked around the leaks, and put two cones over the patch in the road. Way to go, guy!

Right now, four hours after the leak originally started (we think), some more city workers are out there working on it. They'll probably just patch it again and again until it starts leaking so badly that we have a huge sinkhole in the middle of the road, which will keep expanding until all of the neighboring houses are sucked deep within the earth.

What an adventure that will be.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

breathe in tranquility, breathe out hostility

I haven't posted in a while (sorry, Trillian!) because I've been house/dogsitting and I haven't had regular access to the internet. Which could have dire consequences to someone as addicted to the internet as I am. I'm done housesitting, though.

I'm actually posting from a computer at Sinclair right now because I have class in about an hour. I noticed on the way here that I was getting extreme road rage. This worries me, because this entire week I have been so enraged at EVERYTHING. Maybe it's because I haven't been sleeping very well or that I've started drinking copious amounts of coffee in the morning or the combination of the two, but it hasn't taken much to set me off this week.

Especially while driving. I guess I drove more this week than usual, because I was driving back and forth from home to the house I was watching to school a lot. Now that I think about it, maybe that was part of the rage problem.

I've come to the conclusion that no one knows how to drive. No one. I'm not saying I'm immune from the Psychotic-Asanine-Driving-Mistake rays that are apparently hitting the earth. I'm sure I've pissed off my share of other drivers.

I wish I could e-mail or send letters to some of these people, though. Maybe they read this (doubtful) so if they do (ha, right) I'll put them here, just to be on the safe side.

Dear Every Car on the Road,

I know the speed limit is normally 35 on main roads. But, do you think, just maybe, those nutty people in the government might have put OTHER speed limits into place? For instance, we are now on Far Hills. Also known as 48. And Main Street. And you know what? The speed limit goes from 25, to 35, to 40, to 45, and then back to 35. So can you please look at the speed limit signs and go the right damn speed? I'm not asking you to speed, but you don't have to go 5 mph under the speed limit. I won't tell. I promise.

Dear Middle-Aged Man who probably bought that big, giant SUV/truck because he has a tiny hoo-hoo,

I hate you. Move your monstrosity of a vehicle the hell out of my way before I ram my car into the back of you. You don't think I'll do it? Look at my car, then look at your car. Who do you think is going to be more upset about dents and scratches?

Dear 17-year-old boy in the flashy, shiny whatever car,

I don't think you look cool. That spoiler looks stupid. I am not going to have sex with you, no matter how much you rev your engine.

Dear Silver Honda Eclipse,

It's called a turn signal. It's right next to the steering wheel. If you would use it when you cut into the lane in front of me, I would be less likely to honk at you as I swerve off the road into a ditch.

Dear Woman in minivan who is talking on a cell phone,

Hey, guess what! You've swerved into my lane 15 times now! You win the Get-Off-Your-Cell-And-Look-At-The-Road,-Asshole Award!

Dear Man living in the suburbs who drives a Hummer,

How environmentally conscious of you, sir! I'm sure that will come in handy when we are invaded by aliens and they turn the entire country into a desert.

PS: Nice Bush/Cheney sticker.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

thoughts during olympics


"What's the big deal about Micheal Phelps? Oh. Never mind."


"Heh, heh . . . coxon."


"Is it bad that I'm happy the U.S. lost?"



Men's Gymnastics:

"Mmm, muscles."

Women's Gymnastics:

"Why do all these girls look like their growth has been stunted?"


"Wait, badminton is an Olympic event? WTF!?"

Table Tennis:

"And I thought badminton was bad."

Men's Beach Volleyball:

"This is just like Top Gun, only better, because Tom Cruise isn't there."

down with change

I miss my friends. It's a strange time right now, because students are starting to flood back to Wittenberg, but most of my friends and I . . . are not. I feel like I should be packing and getting ready to move back, but I'm not doing that this year. Most of us have moved on to a new phase, but as for myself, and for several of my friends who haven't found jobs, we're still stuck in this in-between place. We're not in the Wittenberg bubble anymore. I suppose I'm the closest, since I'll still be taking a class, but I'm not going to be living on campus and it makes me feel like an outsider.

I still have friends at Witt. People I love and am excited to see again. But things have changed so much. And the scary thing is, they're not finished changing. I don't know where I'll be in six months; I don't know where the majority of my friends will be within the next few months. And it's scary. I suppose it's something everyone goes through, and it will get better, but I just hate the way I feel right now. I just keep thinking of where I was at this point last year. My housemates and I had moved into our new apartment and we were so excited. We spent the week before classes started just hanging out and enjoying each other's company, much as we spent the week after graduation this year. I love that I can remember how much fun that was, and I can relish the memories, but part of me wants to go back. Ok, more than part of me does. I just miss everyone.

Sorry. Usually I'm pretty upbeat and don't write about much of consequence, but I suppose everyone is entitled to a down day now and then.

I promise to be back to my happy, non-serious self tomorrow. Until then, go watch Old Yeller so we'll all be crying.

Saturday, August 14, 2004

let the games begin

I'm really tired, but it's my own fault. I stayed up until 4:30 in the morning. Why? Well, see, it's like this.

I was reading this until around 2 AM. Then I started channel surfing and saw that Lifetime Movie Network was showing Before Sunrise. I remember hearing all the publicity about the sequel coming out last month, so I was intrigued. I figured I'd fall asleep before it was over, but I ended up really liking it.

So if anything I write doesn't make sense, it's just because I'm tired. And I haven't had any coffee yet.

I'm so excited about the Olympics starting! I watched the opening ceremonies last night and I thought they were surprisingly good. I wasn't expecting much, because I'm usually pretty bored with the opening ceremonies. The only thing that bugged me was that Katie Couric and Bob Costas wouldn't SHUT THE HELL UP. All I wanted to do was listen to the music, but they kept telling me how much material was used in Bjork's dress and what the man walking on the cube symbolized. We GET it, Katie. Not everyone in America is a clueless moron.

I was also pleasantly surprised that the U.S. didn't get booed. Thank you, Greece, for being so classy.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

making up history

Tonight we went to Mama DiSalvo's for my dad's birthday. Our waitress was this older lady who kind of reminded me of my grandma. I named her Doreen but my dad said that Doreen sounds more like the name of a waitress in a truck stop. So we decided that our waitress used to work at a truck stop but she's slowly making her way up the ladder. First Burger King, then truck stop, then Applebees, then nice Italian restaurant, then cruise ship. She's so close.

We also decided that you can tell the fanciness of a restaurant by what kind of napkins they have (cloth or paper), how much silverware they provide you, and whether or not they have a wine list.

The whole making up a history for Doreen (real name "Carol") came up because I was telling my parents how I made up a history for that girl in the Western Union commercial. She says she's living in Hollywood but her only agent is her Western Union agent, and she wants to be an actress. I decided that she'd end up dating the guy from Western Union and she'd get pregnant and give up her dream to be the next Julia Roberts. They'd move to North Dakota and buy a farm, because that's where Western Union Guy is from and also owning a farm has always been his dream. Things would be going fine until all their cows become infected with Mad Cow Disease and they go bankrupt. They'd have to move from their big farmhouse to a trailer park, which would be hit by a tornado the next year.

I don't know what happens to them after that.


Bush Spokesman Says Woman Should "Come To Her Senses" and Support Bush If She Wants To See Him. [Arizona Republic, 8/12/04] Sue Walitsky, communications director for the Kerry-Edwards campaign in Arizona, had a valid ticket to see Bush speak at the Veterans Memorial Coliseum in Pheonix, AZ, but the Bush-Cheney campaign refused her admittance with no explanation. Walitsky said that she wore no Kerry button and did not bring any Kerry campaign chum that would have upset Bush supporters. Danny Diaz, a spokesman for the Bush campaign said, "If she's willing to come to her senses and support him, we'll be happy to welcome her in." Walitsky said that the Kerry campaign allows everyone with valid tickets, regardless of political affiliation, to attend Kerry campaign events.

Campaign Staff Rips Up The Tickets Of Three Teenagers. [Reno Gazette-Journal, 6/19/04] In Reno, Nevada, Bush's campaign workers stalked the line of attendees to a Bush rally to ensure that only his supporters were allowed inside. "Three Reno teenagers had tickets pulled out of their hands and ripped to pieces by a campaign staff member after someone in line pointed out an anti-Bush sticker on one of the teens' shirts." 17-year old Jonathan Daniel tried to assure staff that he wouldn't make trouble and only wanted to hear the president on the issues. The campaign would not be swayed. Daniel protested, "I believe it's my right as an American to hear where he is leading our country."

happy birthday

Happy Birthday to my dad and my friend Kate.

One is 22 and the other is 45.

I'll leave it up to you to decide which is which.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Dawn of the -- ok i'm really freaked out and never sleeping again THANKS A LOT -- Dead

Tonight in class we talked about wounds. Don't worry, I'm going somewhere with this. When we got to human bites, I really wanted to raise my hand and bring up the topic of zombies, but I didn't. I wanted to bring it up again when we talked about rabies, because it sounds like animals with rabies act similarly to zombies.

I have this unnatural fear of zombies. I say unnatural because zombies aren't real. At least, not to my knowledge. But just the thought of them really scares the crap out of me. It doesn't help that a bunch of zombie movies have come out recently. Ok, two that I actually saw, but it's not like there are THAT many zombie movies, so two coming out in the span of a year (two years?) can be classified as "a bunch." By my standards, anyway.

I watched 28 Days Later in the dark with a bunch of my friends. Friends good, dark bad. I don't normally get scared during scary movies, but that one freaked me out.

And then there's Dawn of the Dead. The new one. Which I went to see in the theater. Why? I can't remember. It wasn't as good of a movie as 28 Days Later, but it scared me about ten times more. I still have nightmares about zombies.

I wonder what it is about zombies that's so frightening. Maybe it's the fact that the zombies start out as neighbors and then start running around eating people. Maybe it's because they look, well, dead. Maybe it's the way they run, sort of herky-jerky and with odd arm movements. Plus they kind of make unpleasant noises and drool. And with what they've been eating, I don't think you want to get that drool on your clothes.

Maybe it's because in Dawn of the Dead it all starts (for the audience, anyway) when a freaky, dead, zombie girl breaks into a house and EATS THE MAIN CHARACTER'S FIANCE'S NECK. And then the fiance tries to eat the main character.

Yeah, I don't know why that would freak me out.

I hope I don't have nightmares about zombies tonight.

In case anyone is ever attacked by zombies, this site may be helpful.

UPDATE: there are a frightening number of websites about zombies out there

the following exchange happened last night at dinner

Sister: You know when you throw up after you eat? That's gross.

Rest of us: [staring blankly]

Sister: What's that called again? Dys . . . dys?

Father: Dyslexia?

Sister: Yeah!

Me: [trying not to choke on my mashed potatoes]

Monday, August 09, 2004

go figure

I have this tape recorder that I used once for a class.

I really have no use for it now, but it's still sitting on my desk. I have to find something to do with it, right?

So I've been taping songs from the radio or CDs on regular speed, and then playing it back on high speed so it sounds like the Chipmunks are singing it.

For some reason, my sister doesn't find this as amusing as I do.

But I'm sorry, there's nothing funnier than hearing Alvin sing "Your Body is a Wonderland."

Sunday, August 08, 2004


I sold my childhood when I was fifteen for five dollars. Not my whole childhood, I suppose, you can't sell memories, but a big chunk of it. I took all of my favorite books to the bookstore and sold them.

I sat in front of my bookcase with a box and packed away all my friends. First to go were the members of The Babysitter's Club. All of them. Kristy, Claudia, Mary Anne, Dawn, Stacey, and even Jessi and Mallory, who weren't added until later. I figured the Boxcar Children wouldn't mind residing in this box for a while. Maniac Magee and the kids from Wayside School were next.

It was harder to let go of Ramona Quimby. But in she went, along with Beezus. I hoped Alexander would have a better day eventually. Superfudge would be sharing his antics with someone else.

The lion and the witch fit perfectly, but I had to shove a bit to get the wardrobe inside.

I gave Mr. Henshaw to my sister, to add to Dr. Seuss. I even gave her The Giver, appropriately enough.

Of course, there were some I couldn't throw in that box. The Secret Garden, The Polar Express, A Wrinkle in Time, all the wild things; I tucked all these away in the back of my closet.

Five dollars. That's nothing, not even to a 15-year-old. When the cashier told me that's all my childhood was worth to him, I should have grabbed that box and run away. But I didn't. I smiled as much as I could, accepted the five singles, turned my back on my old friends, and walked out of the store, one step closer to adulthood.

always to blame

I'm worried for my sister's mental well-being. I keep hearing grumblings and cursing coming from her room. And, to be honest, it's probably all my fault.

I told her yesterday that she could have the bookcase in my room because I had another one in storage. Today we went to get it. I mentioned in the car that as long as I was moving furniture in my room, I might as well rearrange everything. This gave my sister the idea to move her desk where her dresser is, and her dresser where her desk is.

See, all my fault. Had I not mentioned rearranging my room, she would not be in the state she is now. Her dresser is half in the hall, half in her room and there's barely enough room for her to squeeze out of her room should she need to. Her desk is in the right place, finally, but then she realized her phone cord wasn't long enough. I just looked in there and her bed is covered with books, papers, hangers, and those huge plastic storage containers. I think this is a much bigger project than she suspected. And she just said that she didn't think my bookcase would fit in her room unless she moves her bed, too. I tried not to laugh. If I were her, I think I'd just leave everything as it is and sleep on the sofa from now on.

The funny thing is, I decided not to rearrange my room. I just swapped bookcases. It's probably for the best. I always get bored/hysterical about halfway through the project. Right around the time my desk is half in my closet and my bed is diagonal in the middle of the room.

Saturday, August 07, 2004


"It needs more soap."

"It seems OK to me."

"You're not supposed to eat that stuff, you know."

"How else are you supposed to know when it's ready? Besides, I'm not eating it, I'm taste-testing."

"What does it taste like?"

"Duh, like bathtime."


"My bubbles are gonna float all the way to heaven!"

"How far away is that?"

"About as far as Cleveland."


"I know."

cicada madness, about a month too late

The 17-year-cicadas are gone, and have been for a while, burrowed back into the ground or littering backyards and driveways with their dried-up carcasses.

But now the regular cicadas, the every-year-non-special-non-exciting-cicadas, are here.

When the 17-year-cicadas were here, I didn't care. For some reason, they weren't drawn to our side of Kettering. They segregated themselves to practically all other parts of southern Ohio. Fine with me. I listened to other people complain about them, particularly my mother, who had to dodge them, and the birds foaming at the mouth to eat them, every day at work. I thought they were kind of fun, probably because I only saw them when I was driving down certain Kettering streets and they'd sort of float around, bumping off of cars.

But the regular cicadas seem to like our side of Kettering. I haven't actually seen any, but I have heard, oh let's say, all of them. And because of the unusually cool weather (it's 67 degrees right now, at NOON in AUGUST) we've had our windows open. Which is nice, apart from the deafening sound of cicadas.

Yesterday, I think there was a dying one on our back porch, right under my window, because it was making the same noise only it sounded like someone was stepping on it to squeeze the sound out.

Pleasant, right?

Friday, August 06, 2004

like Heathers, if it had sucked

I'm watching the dumbest movie right now. It's on Oxygen, but really, it belongs on the Lifetime Movie Network. Shannen Doherty is in it, which should have been my first clue that it might not be exactly Oscar-worthy. Basically, this girl is obsessed with another girl because back when they were like 10 and in a talent show, one girl totally choked and the other one was really good, and the one who choked only sucked so bad because her psycho stage mom put too much pressure on her. Cut to ten years later, and both girls are in college. The good one is in a sorority and she's like, president or something. And she's in a band. So the other girl becomes totally obsessed with Sorority President, becomes friends with her, joins the sorority, somehow gets into the band, and has sex with her boyfriend. She's basically trying to take over her life.

Here's the surprising thing. Brenda Walsh DOESN'T play the psychotic-boyfriend-stealer. I know! I was surprised, too! She's the victim; the one we're supposed to feel sorry for. It's so not right, because everyone knows Shannen Doherty is batshit crazy.

The movie is completely unbelievable, too. Both of these girls are in this band, but they absolutely suck. And just now, the psycho girl killed a guy in an alley with her BARE HANDS. She didn't even use a knife, or a big piece of wood like a normal Lifetime-Psycho-Bitch. The movie isn't over yet, but I expect many more bits of improbable craziness. And I'm sure someone will die soon.

The best part is, Shannon Doherty's name in the movie is Heather.

You're probably wondering why I'm still watching it. So am I, actually.

It's so bad, it's breathtaking.

Thursday, August 05, 2004

tiny babies

I'm watching The Graham Norton Effect, and Seth Green is one of the guests. And I've been thinking (uh-oh). He's 5'4 and I'm 5'2, so I think we should get married and have tiny, funny, redheaded babies. We could travel the country as The Amazing Microscopic Family. We could do things like change lightbulbs in ceiling fans and get things off of very tall shelves. Watch us stand precariously on ladders! Watch us climb on counters to get that last water glass off of the top shelf in the cupboard! You know the one! The one that bastard tall people shove all the way to the back of the shelf! Damn you, tall people!

Right. It'll be great. Call me, Seth.

Also? Matthew Lillard is on the show, and he is either very drunk or just very obnoxious (I'm leaning toward obnoxious). Slightly homophobic, as well, if I'm not mistaken.

goddamn John Mayer, man, whoaaaaaa

I think it's going to take a month to flush out all of the caffeine I consumed yesterday. I don't care, though. It was totally worth it.

On Tuesday I left Kettering behind to make the journey to Cleveland. A journey I have made only three times before. Luckily, I had very detailed directions; directions even I could follow. Directions complete with helpful bits like "you'll get to the jacked up traffic light, then turn right" (thanks, Amy). The traffic light truly was "jacked up."

There was a short stop in Springfield, because it's not a good idea to drink a bunch of Coke right before you leave on a road trip. Go figure. There was another short stop in Worthington, to pick up Kate and, once again, pee. At that point I decided not to drink anything else until we got out of the car in Cleveland.

The concert was at this venue out in BFE, but it was a really nice place. We got buttons on the way in because we all signed this sheet saying we were going to vote.

When we got inside we went to the bathroom (important) and got a beer (more important) and then found our seats (most important). They were right in the center of the pavilion. Nice. DJ Logic was the opener for Maroon 5, but they might as well have just pumped in a radio station. I'm sure he would be good for like, a club, but I was hoping for a good band or something. Oh well. Maroon 5 played for about 45 minutes, but I missed one of their songs because I had to go to the bathroom again (thanks, beer). I think I have a bladder the size of a pea.

I really enjoyed Maroon 5. They were great live. But, you know, as much as I like them I was really there to see John Mayer. And what can I say? He was awesome. He played for about two hours. Here's the set list, if anyone cares:

Why Georgia, Bigger than my Body, New Deep, My Stupid Mouth, Only Heart, Not Myself, Wait Until Tomorrow, Voodoo Child (Jimi Hendrix), Come Back to Bed, Your Body is a Wonderland, No Such Thing, Inner City Blues (Marvin Gaye), Clarity. Encore: 3 x 5 (solo), Comfortable (solo), Every Rose Has Its Thorn (random solo), and 83 (with like 4 million people on the stage). He also sang a bit of Steal My Kisses, and during Your Body in the Wonderland John Mayer one of his guitar players got the guys in the crowd to sing Marley's "I don't want to wait in vain for your love" and the girls to sing "could you be loved." It was awesome.

There were also two women on the side stage doing sign language during his set, which I thought was really neat. I've never seen that at a concert before.

There was this family in front of us; a mom and dad, two teenage girls, a teenage boy, and a boy who looked like he was about 8. I don't even know why they were there, unless it was to socialize, because they spent more time wandering and looking around and talking to friends they'd run into. The dad and little boy left halfway through Maroon 5's set, and then came back about two songs into John Mayer's. With ice cream. All the kids looked pretty bored; it didn't look like they knew any of the songs. The little boy was OK when he'd just sit in his seat, but he kept wanting to stand up ON the seat. Right in front of me. Then he'd hop from seat to seat and almost fall. I must be a bad person because I was disappointed every time he didn't fall on his face. I don't know why they brought him. A babysitter would have been cheaper. Or the dad could have stayed home with him, because he looked really bored. Except during the Hendrix song, then he stood up and bobbed his head.

After the concert, as we were walking out to the parking lot, we were behind these two older guys who were very drunk. I don't think they knew each other, but they were having a conversation pretty much like this:

Guy 1: Maaaaaaaan.
Guy 2: I know, man.
Guy 1: That dude can play some guitar, you know?
Guy 2: I know, man, he has to be able to to play some goddamn Hendrix.
Guy 1: And goddamn Marvin Gaye!
Guy 2: Shiiiiiiiiit.

Those weren't the exact words, of course, but you get the idea.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

ten minute breaks are bullshit

My CPR prof just gave some of us a 10 minute break because we took our quiz too quickly. I already went to the bathroom and checked my e-mail and now I have five minutes left. Soooooo. Five minutes isn't really a long enough time to type anything of importance (not that I do that on a regular basis anyway) so I think I'll just wander around the building until it's time to go back to the classroom.

Oh joy.

I wish he'd given us the quiz at the end of class instead of the beginning. Then, if we finished early we just could have gone home.

Tuesday, August 03, 2004


In mere hours I will be watching Maroon 5 and John Mayer sing and dance about with their guitars.

I do have a long drive before that, though.

Perhaps I should shower.

You know, get dressed.

Put on a bra.

Monday, August 02, 2004

this is the end

Jennie: Hi.

Computer: What do you want?

Jennie: Look. I don't like you. You don't like me. But I need to burn this CD.

Computer: Oh, you neeeeed to?

Jennie: Ok, I want to.

Computer: Well, I'm kind of tired.

Jennie: Well, I don't care.

Computer: Fine. Let's get started then.

Jennie: Ok, I just need a few songs from this CD, and a couple from this one, and some from this MP3 CD that I just found and--

Computer: Wait wait wait, what are you doing?

Jennie: I thought we just went over this.

Computer: Why do you keep changing CDs? I thought we were burning a CD.

Jennie: Well, yeah, but one CD with a bunch of different songs. From a bunch of other CDs.

Computer: Sigh.

Jennie: Just shut up and get on with it.

Computer: I will, but you haven't hit record yet.

Jennie: Sorry.

Computer: Ok, I'm done with that song, put in one of the other CDs.

Jennie: Well, there are other songs from that CD, can't you do all of them at once?

Computer: I could, but . . . no.

Jennie: Why not?

Computer: I don't know. That's not how I'm programmed.

Jennie: How do I change it?

Computer: I don't know. That's not my problem. Next CD please.

Jennie: Fine. Bastard.

Computer: I heard that.

Jennie: I should hope so. I said it pretty loud.

Computer: This isn't the right CD.

Jennie: Yes it is.

Computer: No, I can't find the song.

Jennie: But that's the CD I used.

Computer: Nope, it isn't.

Jennie: Wait, what are you doing?! Why are you finishing the CD, it's not finished!

Computer: It is to me, I can't find any more songs.

Jennie: Just WAAAAAIT a minute and I'll find it.

Computer: Too late. Would you like to try again?

Jennie: I suppose.

Computer: Please insert a blank CD.

Jennie: Here.

Computer: Now, see I still can't find that song. You're going to have to try again.

Jennie: NOOOOOO! Why can't you just burn this damn thing, you worthless piece of shit!

Computer: That was uncalled for. Please insert a blank CD.

Jennie: Dammit. Oh, I don't believe it.

Computer: What?

Jennie: I was putting the wrong CD in.

Computer: I told you that song wasn't on that CD.

Jennie: Bite me.

Computer: Please, just insert the correct CD this time.

Jennie: I hate you.

Computer: That wasn't my fault.

Jennie: I don't care.

Computer: Error, I am unable to write this track.

Jennie: You've GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

Computer: Nope.

Jennie: [crying] Why is this happening?

Computer: I believe it's because you don't know what you're doing.

Jennie: Oh no, that last one wasn't my fault.

Computer: Well, it certainly wasn't mine. I'm just a machine.

Jennie: Yeah, a shitty machine.

Computer: What are you gonna do about it?

Jennie: I'll tell you what I'm gonna do about it, I'm gonna go burn this CD on ANOTHER computer.

Computer: You slut!

Jennie: That's right. I'm cheating on you. And my other computer is faster and never argues with me. And it can ALWAYS find the right song.

Computer: You just wait, I'll get back at you.

Jennie: We'll see about that.

Computer: Hey . . . uh, what are you doing?

Jennie: Oh, you'll see.

Computer: Put me down! Hey, stop! What are you doing?! CLOSE THAT WINDOW, AHHHHHHH!!

i need stalker lessons

At this time tomorrow I will be on my way to Cleveland to see John Mayer and Maroon 5. I am muy excited. It's been two years since I saw John Mayer in concert, and everyone who understands just how obsessed I am with him knows just how long that is. I couldn't go see him last summer because, if I remember correctly, he didn't even come to Ohio. Jerk. I'm just kidding, John. I still love you.

The summer before that, the last time I saw him, he actually came to Kettering. With Guster. That was a great concert. It was a smallish, outside venue and, even though it sprinkled a bit in the beginning of the evening, it was a nice night.

I'm wondering if I should sneak my camera in tomorrow, or if they allow it. I don't want to take a disposable camera, because those pictures never turn out very well, but if they don't allow cameras I don't want them to take my real one. Decisions, decisions.

I'm excited to see Maroon 5, too, because I've never seen them live. Last summer, my friend and I were going to go see them at Bogart's with Jason Mraz. Now I can't remember why we didn't go. Because we're stupid?

Yes, I think that must be it.

Sunday, August 01, 2004

again, with the excitement

I'm so excited right now. I just wrote a short story (or a first chapter) in like forty minutes. It's pretty rough, still, but it feels good to be writing again. It's been a long time since I've written anything, at least anything that wasn't for a class. And this blog, of course, but it's not the same thing. It just feels really good because it's a story I've had in my head for a while.

I think I honestly have a good idea for a novel, which is absolutely astounding to me because in the past the thought of writing something that huge has terrified me.

Even if it doesn't work out the way I want it to, at least I'm writing again.

why isn't Joaquin Phoenix more famous?

This weekend flew by, probably because it was so much fun. On Friday I met up with some friends at Nancy's new apartment (which is awesome). We went to dinner, and then went searching for a bar. We finally settled at the third one we went to, a place called Partners that none of us had ever been to before. It was nice, though. It reminded me of the bar we frequent on campus. When we got back to Nancy's later that night (ok, early the next morning) a couple of us sat on her balcony and ended up having a serious conversation about politics. Go figure.

Kate, Stiffie and I saw The Village yesterday, once we finally woke up and recovered from the night before. I liked it, despite the fact that I was expecting it to be somewhat scary. There are a couple of twists, but none of them were really that surprising. The "big" one is actually pretty predictable. I didn't really mind, though. I think people who go see M. Night Shyamalan's movies are always expecting this huge twist at the end because of The Sixth Sense, so when the twist isn't that spectacular it's easy to feel cheated.

The most surprising thing was the love story between Lucius and Ivy. I wasn't really expecting it, but it was a huge part of the movie. The only thing that really bothered me was some of the dialogue. Shyamalan should really get someone to revise that for him before they start shooting. The actors do what they can with it, but some of it sounds so unbelievable that it's distracting.

I just noticed that it's August 1st. Holy shit.