Friday, November 30, 2007
I'm a lot more concerned about my next endeavor. I've decided to participate in Kat!'s first ever NoBloPoMo (figure it out). So. See you guys next year.
Here it is. Heart of New York City. Times Square. Named for the good times you have when you’re in it.
They also saw the Rockettes. Now, I've never been to a Rockettes show. The closest I've ever come to seeing a Rockettes show is when Daddy Warbucks takes Annie to see one. But I've seen enough to know that the Rockettes and I would not get along. They never stop smiling. They're far too enthusiastic about throwing their legs up into the air like they just don't care. Also, they seem really tall and really tall people make me uneasy, because I'm afraid they might not see me and they'll just run right over me with their big, monster, clown feet.
This morning I got a text message from Heidi asking me to TiVo The Today Show. This means they got up early to go stand outside that giant window. You couldn't PAY me to do that. It involves everything I hate. Getting up early, cold weather, a big crowd of people, and Al Roker. OK, I don't HATE Al Roker, but he does scare me a little. He's always smiling so big that it looks like he's about to take a giant bite out of my leg or something. Anyway, Heidi probably would have MADE me go with her (she's always making me do stuff . . . like leave the apartment) and I would have bitched and complained the entire time and ruined her memories of The Today Show forever.
Plus, I probably would have made them go hang out at the WGA picket line every day so we might see Tina Fey or Conan O'Brien. Or, if we were really lucky, Jon Stewart. Swoon*!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
I think this rule also applies to writing. Sometimes you sit down at the computer so READY TO WRITE and it's like your brain is all clogged. Like . . . the words are right there, but something is in the way and that something is COMPLETE AND UTTER FEAR. I don't know why it's so hard (that's what she said), it just IS. But. Maybe you have a drink or two and things get a bit easier. You stop caring as much about whether what you're writing makes any sense whatsoever. And then, with one more magical sip, the words start flowing. You can't type fast enough. I think this is why so many writers are alcoholics. It's so much easier to write when you're buzzed, because you don't care if what you're writing is any good.
Of course. You have to be careful. If you go past your limit, you could end up typing something like this:
Ths wone time i wentt to the stor and got some cnady and it was so good you gusy so so so so so good i wihs you cud have had somme of it . . . hahaha, omg wtf!
And you can only get away with that if your name is Nicholas Sparks.
I'm sorry. That made no sense. It's just that I hate that guy so much.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Now. Let me tell you about the best trip ever. Not only did I get to hang out in DC (which I have decided I am in love with, much to my mother's chagrin), but I got to meet the following people:
Mysterygirl! (who really deserves credit for all the exclamation point action the Internets has seen lately)
I left very, very early Friday morning. It was still dark. So dark. I drove and drove and drove and when I got to Maryland I saw this sign:
Oh. My. God. You guys, I almost pooped my pants. I had NO IDEA there were bears in Maryland. I was disappointed that I didn't see any, actually. But not too disappointed because soon I was in DC! And then lost. So very lost. At one point, I was totally driving around some parking lot type area with fences and crap that looked really, really official and I thought a soldier might jump out and arrest me. But Seth got me unlost speedy quick and thanks to him I am not still wandering the cold streets of DC, begging people to please PLEASE tell me how to get to 395. That night, Kat! served us the most delicious meal in all of creation. And we played UNO and there were pirate hooks and a ninja sword and I feel like I've talked about all this before, Internets, but I DON'T CARE BECAUSE IT WAS SO FUN. You know what I like best about Kat!, Internets? She understands just how important alcohol is and I don't think my glass was empty the entire night. Kat! is my people.
The next day we did six miles worth of sightseeing and the very best part was when we walked up the steps at the Lincoln Memorial and stared at the reflection of the Washington Monument in the reflecting pool and Abigail! exclaimed, "OHHHHH! Reflecting pool! Now I get it!" My favorite thing about Abigail!, Internets, is that she gets SO EXCITED about everything. Like, during UNO . . . the whole Super Absorbency card? She would not let UNO off the hook for that. She was SO EXCITED about hating Super Absorbency and FOR GOOD REASON. Also, Seth was the one who created the "Super Absorbency" saying that was repeated the entire weekend, and I give him full credit for that, but I don't know if it would have stuck around if Abigail! had not taken it under her wing and let it grow like a tiny, tiny baby bird (I don't know).
Later that night, we all went to Rocket Bar. This bar has everything. Big Buck Hunter. PBR in cans. A bouncer who told me where the bathroom was after he saw me wandering around aimlessly. BOARD GAMES. And that night? Heather B! and Mysterygirl! I love that they weren't completely terrified that we kept yelling "SUPER ABSORBENCY" the whole night and neither one of them gave me funny looks for anything I said! It was awesome. I mean, even during my speech about how if the United States was the human body (stay with me), and if the body was lying on its side, DC would be the crotch (of the nation) and the Washington Memorial would be the wiener. This led to a discussion where something was said about Ohio and Georgia being the kidneys and Lake Michigan being the vas deferens, but Lake Michigan as the vas deferens was a different version of the US as the human body because . . . oh my god. You know what? I'm gonna stop there because I'm talking about vas deferens. AGAIN. Also, I don't remember a lot of it because most of the time when I'm talking? I'm not even listening to what I'm saying. And I think this all happened after Abigail! bought me a tequila shot so . . . you know. Enough said.
ALSO. We played Sorry! At a bar! And it was as fun as it sounds. Heather! Anne! kicked our asses. You know why? Karma. It's true. Internets, Heather! Anne! is the nicest person who ever existed. She kept telling people to send her back to start! Because it was their best move! AND SHE STILL WON! How? KARMA. Also, she shot so many turkeys during Big Buck Hunter time. She has a gift, it's true. I would also like to talk so much about Abigail! and Heather! Anne's rendition of the OK Go treadmill dance but . . . words don't do it justice. You had to see it in person. It was magic. I just know it.
When we went back home, Kat! made balloon animals (I know!) and then we tied one to a firecracker but we didn't set it off because A) we were inside and B) I think actually we forgot about it because C) oh, the drinking. We stayed up until six, because Heather! Anne's! flight was very, very early in the morning and we decided (notice I did not say Heather! Anne! decided) that it would be better for her to just stay up all night. So we all sat around talking about our families and boys and the difference between digital photos and Polaroids and who knows what else (I don't remember) but I had forgotten just how fun it could be to stay up all night for no raisin. I got cold and tired so I put my jacket on, stretched out on the floor, and listened to the conversation for a while. Before I fell asleep, Kat! crawled over to the iPod lying next to my head, asked what I wanted to hear, and when I said Oasis, she said she knew I was going to say that and the best part was, I KNEW she knew I was going to say that.
During the course of the trip, we even managed to squeeze in several meals at delicious restaurants, a partial viewing of Harry Potter, a total viewing of A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, and several episodes of Futurama. It was the greetest.
There was one bad thing about the trip, though. It's a horrible thing. I don't even like to think about it. It's really hard (that's what she said). But it's just so terrible and sad and I think I might cry. The worst thing about the trip is that it ended. Wah waaaaah!
*That was a trick to get you to read all the way to the end. If you skipped ahead, well . . . BRAVO, you tricky bastard.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
also, I think maybe all but three of you are sick of hearing me talk about how awesome my trip to DC was (heh)
1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME (first pet & first car): Rusty Skylark
2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie): Mint Chocolate Chip Chocolate Chip (WOW)
3. YOUR "FLY Guy/Girl" NAME (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name): J-Bax
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME (favorite color, favorite animal): Blue Penguin
5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first): Baxje
6. SUPERHERO NAME ("The" + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink): The Green Tequila Shot (for the record, I don't really have a favorite drink)
7. NASCAR NAME (the first names of your grandfathers): Zeb Sheldon
8. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME (Your 5th grade teacher's last name, a major city that starts with the same letter): Wolfe West Carrollton
9. SPY NAME (your favorite season/holiday, favorite flower): Spring Lily
10. CARTOON NAME (favorite fruit, article of clothing you're wearing right now + "ie" or "y"): Apple Pantsy
11. HIPPY NAME (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree): Yogurt Redwood
12. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME ("The" + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + "Tour"): The Reading Rainbow Tour (hee!)
13. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name, city where you were born): Lynn Dayton
14. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME (mother's and father's middle names): Jo Lowell
Monday, November 26, 2007
- Watching Seth play the most amazing game of Ms. Pacman I have ever witnessed
- Tying balloon animals to fireworks
- Singing (loudly) along to "Don't Stop Believin" and "Sweet Caroline"
- Giving ourselves temporary Spongebob Tattoos
- Oh, and also, drinking
In conclusion, did you know that Einstein wore sandals?
That's his foot. On a statue. I know you can't see his face, but you'll just have to trust me. That's Einstein's foot. Also, his sandal. Unless he stole his sandals from someone, but I don't think he'd do that.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
This is Abigail.
(I have to blog for Jennie today because she blogged for me yesterday. Actually, she kind of raped the internet yesterday by guest posting for me, Heather Anne, AND Kat and she blogged for herself too.)
But here's the thing about Jennie.
a) She is hilarious. That thing about raping the internet? Her words.
b) She is a blog machine. She didn't have a computer with her on this trip so I offered her mine on Saturday morning while we enjoyed the continental breakfast at our hotel. She checked her email and the next time I looked over she had blogged. In like... five seconds! So then Heather was all, "...so wanna blog for me?" and Jennie was like, "sure, whatever, let me get some more waffles so I can prove my awesomeness by eating waffles and blogging again AT THE SAME TIME." Which she did flawlessly and then I was all, "I let you use my computer. Blog for me, bitch." It was all very dramatic.
c) So really I feel like I shouldn't have to blog for her because I just don't have The Gift that she has.
d) But she was all, "IT'S NOT THAT HARD. You just type things." So, I tried that. Here is me, typing things.
e) Oh, also, when I was sitting moaning about blogging (standard) I asked Jennie for ideas. She refused to assist because she said that defeated the point. I said that sometimes she blogged more than once a day and so clearly I was the one that needed help. And she described the things in her head and how she has to get them out. "You guys, it's like a snake bite. You have to suck out the poison."
f) Here is a photo of us together.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Anyway, did you know there are bears in Maryland? I didn't see any, but a sign told me to watch out for them. Because . . . BEARS!
I know you'll be surprised, but I got horribly horribly lost once I got into the city. And then I almost hit like 80 people with my cars. And then I tried to park my car and there were shenanigans because I suck at both driving and parallel parking. And after driving a million hours, I did not want to be in the car anymore so when I saw the Washington monument poking up into the sky like a giant wang, I have never been so happy to see an inappropriate monument in my life. True story.
OK, but once I got here? More fun than you've ever had. True story. Today will be more of the same. Again. Don't be jealous. One day you might have this much fun, too.
But I doubt it. Oh snap! Ha! Sorry.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Hello, Vegas? Yeah, we would like some more alcohol. And you know what else? We would like some more beers.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Last week, we had an awards luncheon at work and at every awards luncheon someone wins the centerpiece at their table. And last week, I won it. Whoo. Hoo. I felt kind of bad, like I should give it to someone who wouldn't neglect it and end up killing it and possibly even throw it off the balcony to see how big of a mess it would make.
However, I can't just give away stuff that I won FOR FREE. It is totally against my evil, hoarding nature. The Universe must have had SOME REASON for me winning it, and so I carried it proudly out to my car and set it on the floor in the backseat. Then I proceeded to drive like I normally do, which is not well, and when I got home I noticed the centerpiece had fallen over and gotten the floor all wet. "Oh well," I thought, "it's just water," conveniently forgetting that it was DIRTY FLOWER WATER that had been STEWING INSIDE OF A PUMPKIN FOR HOURS.
So, yes. Apparently The Universe DID have a plan. It wanted to make my car all stinky, just in time for my eight hour drive to DC. Thank you, The Universe. I wouldn't expect anything else from you.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
BECAUSE. He has all these sayings that have become deeply embedded in my brain after 25 years. Like musty. Say he's eating a delicious peanut butter cookie. Ooh, funny story about peanut butter cookies. This one time my mom made peanut butter cookies and, since she doesn't like peanut butter (crazy), she had my dad taste test them. He tried his best to pretend they were OK but I guess they were the most disgusting cookies ever made in the history of cookies. To make a long story short (HAHAHA!), the Crisco my mom used had gone bad. My mom's words, "it's not supposed to be brown?" Hee. To be fair, my mom is a really good cook. This was a one time thing. Except for the time she tried to make bagels, but that's a story for another day.
Anyway, so say my dad is eating a peanut butter cookie. And he finishes it. He might say something like, "that cookie tasted musty," and then you'd stare blankly at him because . . . what? And then he'd say, "I MUSTY have another."
Apparently these things have a way of seeping into your brain. Which is why anytime anyone says the word "phenomenon," I sing, "PHENOMENON do do dododo PHENOMENON do do do do," and I have NO IDEA WHERE IT CAME FROM. All I know is, I heard it at least once a day for a couple years, at least. Whatever. I still hear it. In my head. It haunts my dreams.
Then there is the relatively well-known saying, "bull in a china factory." I heard this one a lot. Go figure. I'd run into something, he's shake his head, say, "you're like a bull in a china factory," and I'd yell, "THAT MAKES NO SENSE!" because I thought he was saying a BOWL in a china factory, not a BULL and I was all, "What, do they not make bowls in China? That's crazy."
By far the weirdest saying he's passed along, however, is this one: BLEE BLY BLOW THREE IN A ROW POP-CORN! I mean, you really have to hear this one to get the full effect. It's sort of a song and sort of a chant. There is no describing it, really. I have no idea where it came from. Or what it means. Or why my dad says it all the time. But I just want you all to know, that if you're making popcorn and I walk by and say, "blee bly blow three in a row POPCORN!" it's not my fault. My dad broke my brain.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Me: You should go running.
Me: I don't want to.
Me: But the race is on Thursday!
Me: Like skipping one day of running is going to matter.
Me: GET UP, FATTY!
So, I finally guilted myself into going running, even though it was -20 degrees outside (no, it wasn't) and all this running has made my knees age like 80 years. And while I was out running, I decided that HEY! wouldn't it be funny to run to mom and dad's house? HILARIOUS! If by hilarious you mean mildly amusing but not even. Do you find it strange that I live within running distance of my parents' house? Well, I do. Although, if Forrest Gump taught us anything, it's that ANYWHERE is within running distance. Except somewhere that's across the ocean. BUT I suppose you could build a raft and sail it across the ocean and run in place or something the whole time, but that seems a little illogical. So don't do that, OK? I don't want you to get eaten by a shark or a whale or the Loch Ness Monster. I'm just kidding. Nessie would never eat anyone. Oh my god.
ANYWAY. I ran to my parents' house to say hi and it was a huge, huge mistake. Not because I don't like seeing my parents (because, hi, my parents are awesome), but because I shouldn't have stopped. When I went back outside to run home, I so didn't want to. But I did. Sigh. Wow, good story, Jennie. TELL IT AGAIN.
This morning, when my alarm went off, the DJs were doing the weather forecast for the week. I got all excited when they started talking about a warm front coming in. SIXTY DEGREE WEATHER, PEOPLE! IN NOVEMBER! But, unfortunately, the warm front is only staying until Wednesday and it's supposed to be really cold and rainy and disgusting by Thursday morning JUST IN TIME FOR THE RACE. Now. THAT is hilarious. Caps lock off.
Some backstory: Heidi went on a trip or something back when we first moved in together (um, a year and a half ago) and she brought me back a tiny, tiny bottle of gin & juice. Like the size of tiny bottle that Chandler Bing likes to hold to pretend he's a giant. It's been sitting in the kitchen ever since. Also, we got tired of calling the hot guys who live in our apartment complex "Hot Guy 1" and "Hot Guy 2" so we named them Bernard and Sebastian instead.Me: This Gin & Juice has been here forever.
Heidi: I know, I can't believe you haven't drank it.
Heidi: I buy you a gift! Out of love! And this is the thanks I get!
Me: Fine! I'll drink it now.
Me: Oh, wait. I can't drink it. It says on here that pregnant women shouldn't drink.
Heidi: Do you have something you want to tell me?
Me: Well. See. You weren't home one night and Sebastian and Bernard came over.
Me: Yeah, things got out of hand.
Heidi: I guess I'll have to drink the rest of this wine myself.
Me: No, it's OK, cause I'm getting an abortion . . . so I can totally drink wine.
Heidi: Oh my god.
Me: Yeah. I can't believe I said that.
Heidi: You bought your ticket to hell with that one.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
I think I find this a lot funnier than I should:
Best. Movie. Ever.
When I was in high school, I worked as a library aide at the public library. Most of the other library aides were in high school, too. Except for Katie. I want to say she was pushing 30 and she'd been working as a library aide since high school. While the rest of us tried to spend as much time as possible goofing off in the aisles, she raced like a mad(wo)man around the library with her cart, putting books away as quickly as possible. If we saw her coming, we'd either avoid eye contact or simply run the opposite direction. She was obsessed with Star Wars, Obi Wan in particular, and we gave her the nickname "Obi Gone." I don't know if she still works there because I haven't set foot in that library since I quit.
part of the 365 project
Saturday, November 17, 2007
So I had to drive all the way back to Lenscrafters today JUST to tell the eye doctor that yes, the contacts she gave me are fine. No, they do not make my eyes bleed. No, I have not run over any small children while driving with them in. You know, basically questions I could have answered over the phone. THEN she tried to convince me to order the most expensive contacts they carried and I was all, "no, no, it's OK, I've used these forever and they're fine," and she was all, "OK, but they're not as breathable, blah blah blah, maybe you should change them every two weeks instead of every month," and I was all, "BITCH PLEASE! I can make a year's worth of contacts last TWO YEARS. THAT IS HOW GREAT MY POWERS ARE!" Only, I didn't yell that. I just nodded and smiled and in my head planned to wear the contacts for at least a month and a half because what does she know? She's just a doctor.
Earlier I was thinking about that movie, Can't Hardly Wait. I don't know why. It's sort of like how I start thinking about what would happen if Indiana Jones and Han Solo got in a fight. Or how sometimes in meetings I wonder what everyone would do if I jumped on the table and started rolling around shouting curse words. Anyway, I used to really like that movie. But then I got to thinking about it and it's such bullshit. Cute little Ethan Embry is all in love with bland, big-boobed Jennifer Love Hewitt? I don't think so. He's going away to study with KURT FUCKING VONNEGUT and she? She quoted Jewel next to her yearbook photo. I rest my case.
Friday, November 16, 2007
But this week is one of those weeks. I bet my mom is reading this right now all "You're STILL NOT SLEEPING? I thought I told you to go to the doctor!" but I don't LIKE to go to the doctor and I feel like I've been at the doctor way too much lately. I prefer when there are years between doctor visits, not weeks. IT'S UNNATURAL AND WRONG AND I WON'T DO IT ANYMORE.
Anyway, um, what? Oh, right, not sleeping. I can tell when the not-sleeping is starting to become a problem because I start acting drunk when in reality I have not had a drop of alcohol since like . . . Tuesday. Like, last night we were watching Ugly Betty and I got really bored and on Halloween Steve left his big, giant, yellow 70's glasses at our apartment and they were sitting right next to me on the end table. So I put them on. Over my regular glasses. And then I was all, "excuse me, Heidi, I have something urgent and important to tell you" and she ripped her attention away from Ugly Betty and then she died laughing. I swear. Then she came back to life and took a picture of me in my two pairs of glasses reading some F. Scott Fitzgerald. We laughed so hard you guys. It was like the time we drank a bottle of wine and then looked at lolcats. Only we had no wine last night. None. Also, I told Heidi that someone found my blog by Googling "accidental butt sex," and then WE Googled "accidental butt sex" (I'm on page 2 of the results, btw) and it turns out this one girl really did have accidental butt sex. I won't go into details. YOU'RE WELCOME.
And then this happened:
Me: I love you sweeaaaaatSHIRT. RED HOODED sweeeeeaaaatSHIRT. DIP DIP DIP.
Heidi: Um, what are you singing?
Me: HELLO. The red-hooded sweatshirt song?
Heidi: . . .
Me: BY ADAM SANDLER.
Me: Oh, THAT IS IT, you need to see this.
And then we watched it. It was as awesome as I remember.
Also, last week, Heidi was just sitting on the couch reading a magazine and I was all, "who do you think would win in a fight . . . Han Solo or Indiana Jones?" and she gave me this look like . . . what? She answered and half-heartedly debated the subject for a couple of minutes, but I could tell she really wanted to go back to her magazine. I mean, I think the answer is obviously Han Solo. Indiana Jones may be handy with a whip, but Han Solo has a blaster and CHEWBACCA. So. You do the math.
And earlier today? One of our employees called me from Iraq and it was really hard to talk to him because there was a weird delay after anything either of us said. So I had him repeat his email address like 87 times and he was like "blah blah at echo echo charlie dot mil," and I almost stopped him and asked him what the hell kind of email address is email@example.com? But then I got what he was doing. Do you see why I need to start sleeping? Insomnia is making me stupider than I already am and I cannot function like that.
This has nothing to do with not sleeping, but you guys, I am seriously about to go crazy. This girl in my office has been listening to Christmas music for like two weeks now. I swear. And it's so loud. And one day she listened to " The 12 Pains of Christmas" on repeat for like an hour. IT'S TOO EARLY FOR CHRISTMAS MUSIC. And someone put up a tiny Christmas tree! IT'S TOO EARLY FOR CHRISTMAS TREES, I DON'T CARE HOW WEE IT IS. Do you remember that episode of Grey's Anatomy where Cristina Yang goes all Grinchy and takes that little kid's Christmas tree out of his room? And Burke got all that sand in his vagina because she didn't buy into his "spirituality" and happy Christmas bullshit? I'm totally on her side.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Sorry, but a toll is a toll, and a roll is a roll, and if we don't get no tolls, then we don't eat no rolls.
Comment ANONYMOUSLY! I'm not yelling at you, really, just . . . it's harder than it looks. That's what she said. Or HE said.
1. One secret.
2. One compliment.
3. One non-compliment.
4. One love note, but it does not have to be for me.
5. Lyrics to a song.
6. How old you are.
7. How long we've been friends.
8. And a hint to who you are.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
When I got to my parents' house, I (of course) started bugging my sister and I can't remember what we were talking about but I do know that it ended with her shouting, "fuck you!"
Mom: I'm not sure I'm OK with that. Apologize to your sister.
Sister: [blah blah yelling and indignation]
Then I followed my mom around while she straightened up the house and I . . . watched.
Me: So Dad said you guys aren't coming to watch us in the race.
Mom: When is it?
Me: Mom. It's on. Thanksgiving.
Mom: Oh, what time?
Me: 8 in the morning.
Mom: What? Fuck you!
Awesome. So my sister and my mom said "fuck you" to me in the span of two minutes. I told my mom it was all kinds of rude and her response was, "well, just be glad the dog can't talk."
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Earlier, I was sitting around in my pajamas, unshowered and disgusting, working on how to articles and mindlessly surfing the Internets when my mom called. She and my dad were over at my grandma's. So I went over there and we sat around and talked and I showed them all funny Youtube videos and we went through all these piles of stuff my grandma had everywhere and I found a coupon that expired in 1995. Did you HEAR THAT? 1995! So I made my dad hang it on the fridge. Because . . . I don't know why. It's not even the oldest thing on the fridge, but whatever.
Then we ordered Chinese food. It was so good, you guys. SO GOOD. Anyway, at the end, my parents and grandma opened their fortune cookies (I was still eating my food because I am the slowest eater in the whole world . . . true story, ask Heidi) and then when I opened mine? It was the same fortune as my mom's. And there was an extra cookie, so I opened it and it was the same fortune as my dad's! I got totally screwed! UNFAIR! Then my grandma was all "you don't have a fortune, Jennie," like HAHA very funny my life sucks.
Anyway. So that happened. I really love three day weekends, but it makes it really hard to go back to work. Sometimes I really wish I was a trophy wife so I could sit at home all day, reading by the pool and drinking wine. True story.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Anyway, so this meant we saw commercials. Which hardly ever happens. And there was this one commercial where this kid is playing in a pool and it starts raining and his mom or dad (don't remember which and NOT IMPORTANT) comes out and is all, "get inside, Timmy, before the lightening gets you." I may be embellishing. And then this lady comes on and is all . . . 1 in every 150,000 people is struck by lightening. BUT one in every 150 children will be diagnosed with autism. And I was all . . . what? I mean, I sort of get what they were trying to say. Like, your kid probably won't get struck by lightening but he might get autism. OK. But what's with just comparing random statistics like that? It's like, um, 1 in every 150,000 people will have accidental butt sex but 1 in every 150 people will eat mediocre ice cream this year. Yeah, I realize I'm not proving my point very well, but what you DON'T know is . . . I don't care.
Anyway, so Heidi and I tried to go running earlier. We were going to go up to the track at the high school, because it's flat and made of rubber and doesn't make my shins want to fall off. When we left, it had started raining but we decided to drive up to the high school anyway. Because . . . we thought that like five miles away it wouldn't be raining? OK. But it was. And then we saw lightening.
Heidi: Uh oh, lightening.
Me: Well, don't worry. You're much more likely to come down with autism than get struck by lightening.
We didn't end up running outside because we decided that we didn't feel like getting struck by lightening today. We went to the gym instead and ran on the treadmill. And I didn't fall off and hurt myself. And we avoided getting struck by lightening. So it's been a pretty good day, I guess.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
All I've done so far today is listen to a lot of Death Cab and work on the crappy story I started writing. Although, I have showered so I feel like I've accomplished all I really need to today. Plus, I got a giant book of Fitzgerald short stories from the library and it's calling my name. For real. It's all, "Jeeeeenniiiiieeee, come reeeeeeaaaad meeeeee." It's a little weird. And way scary.
Man, this sucks. Sorry, Internets, I'm just not in a very "Hootie" place right now.
So. Um. Here's a video. One of my friends in college had a bunch of Stuart videos on her computer and I'd be lying if I told you we didn't all watch them at least once a day.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Maybe this is why, at the age of 16, I walked out of The Truman Show absolutely CONVINCED that my life was being broadcast for the entire world to see. I skulked through the parking lot, eyeing the streetlights suspiciously, sure that there were cameras hidden in them.
It probably also explains why I still tell my sister that I attended Hogwarts and the only reason she doesn't remember is because I used the Obliviate spell on her. The thing is, though? Hogwarts IS a real place. Or at least it will be. So don't try and tell me I can never go to Oz because I WON'T BELIEVE YOU. All I need is a tornado, a tiny dog, and a slight concussion.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Anyway, when I got home, I checked the mail like always and as I was flipping through all the crap, I noticed a little postcard that said "$15 OFF" and underneath it said "SIGNATURE OIL CHANGE," and I was all WTF, why does God hate me?
You're probably going to wonder how I wind up talking about chipmunks by the end of this. I wish I could explain it. But I cannot.
That someone is me. When my boss initially brought up the idea of this training tool, she said that someone would probably need to do the voiceover. No one really volunteered, but we all joked around that we'd hold auditions and stage an American Idol-style competition to pick the lucky winner. Then no one said anything about it for like a week and so I forgot about it. Until last week, when my boss asked me if I'd be comfortable doing the voiceover, because of my "pleasant voice and good diction." Heh, DICtion. Anyway, since there is nothing I love more in this world than the sound of my own voice, I agreed.
So earlier this week, I spent about an hour in the conference room with one of the IT guys, speaking slowly into a tiny microphone. Seriously, you guys, this microphone was hilarious. It was on a little microphone stand, but it was like . . . chipmunk sized. Like a chipmunk could use it to sing his indie rock songs. Not Alvin & the Chipmunks, though, because I always got the impression that they were bigger than normal chipmunks. What's that about? Were they like radioactive chipmunks? Or did Dave feed them human growth hormone or something? Chipmunk growth hormone? Anyone?
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
At some point, we both realized that it's really nice to just come home and do nothing. Screw this working out business! Only not really, because the race? It is 15 days away. That is not so many. So I said, "hey, why don't we get up early tomorrow and go running before work," half hoping that Heidi would say, "hey, why don't you go fuck yourself, crazy person!" But she didn't! So last night, I set my alarm for 5:23 (I don't know) and this morning when it went off, I actually got up immediately, put on my running clothes, brushed my teeth, and ate a banana. And then we went running. The sun wasn't even up yet. And I didn't die! Which is sort of what I always thought might happen if I tried to go running that early. Like, my body would kill me for dragging it out of bed before it needed to be awake and THEN MAKING IT EXERCISE.
The bad part is, I can't use this excuse anymore: If I go running before work, I will be incredibly, incredibly tired once I get there and then I'll be absolutely WORTHLESS, more so than usual.
Because here's the thing. I'm not any sleepier than I normally am. In fact, I think I may have been more productive than usual this morning. This is bad. I fear that soon I will be one of those people who likes to work out and eats more fruit than candy and doesn't drink and gets up at the asscrack of dawn on the weekends FOR NO RAISIN. If that happens, will one of you stage an intervention? Because, seriously, I don't want to know that girl. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like her.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
It was because of the giant pimple, who I have named Isaac, that I parted my hair on the opposite side this morning. I thought if my bangs hung over the other side of my forehead, Isaac would have something to hide behind. It didn't really work, though. And all my foolish attempts to cover Isaac up with makeup only angered him. Sigh.
Then I got to work and remembered that it's flu shot day. I mean, sure, I guess getting poked in the arm with a sharp needle is not the best way to start the day, but at least things can only get better from that point, right? Well, usually I'd say WRONG YOU'RE SO WRONG SHUT UP YOU'RE WRONG.
Oh, but THEN. THEN I remembered that I get to vote today. I love voting. Even though we don't get to stab the cardboard ballots with the little stabby things anymore. I loved the little stabby things. I think the real reason they went to electronic voting is because they got tired of hearing me yell, "Stab! Stab! Stabby stabby stab stab!" and then cackling maniacally. APPARENTLY it disturbs the other voters.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Just because we have chiseled abs and stunning features, it doesn't mean that we too can't not die in a freak gasoline fight accident.
Person I Was With*: What was that?
Me: Heidi fell down? And hurt herself?
PIWW: Um. Do you need to call her back?
Me: Nah, she sounded drunk and happy, I think she's OK.
And since we both get hurt a lot, it leads to a lot of conversations like this:
Heidi: What happened?
Me: Nothing, I just stabbed myself in the lip with my car key.
Heidi: I would say that surprises me, but it totally doesn't.
And also this, while roasting marshmallows on Saturday:**
Heidi: Ooh, my marshmallow is done!
[flaming marshmallow melts too fast and falls off poker, onto Heidi's leg]
Me: Um, you're on fire.
See? We're so used to these accidents by now that not even Heidi SETTING HERSELF ON FIRE causes me to blink an eye. It's really only a matter of time before one of us drowns in the toilet, while the other one just stands there all, "um, you're totally drowning right now," and then walks away to make a PB&J sandwich.
So, yes, we both get hurt a lot. I'm sort of surprised that neither of us has blown up the apartment or set it on fire or accidentally blasted a hole in the wall. Although, on our first night living there I did throw a coaster at someone (drunk) and it dented the wall, but apart from all the appliances we've broken, that's the worst damage we've done. So far.
*no, I'm not telling you who, Internets, because I do like to have some secrets . . . mwaahaahaa!
**that's right MARSHMALLOWS!
Sunday, November 04, 2007
The reason I finally made an appointment was because A) it's almost the end of the year and I wanted to get new glasses and contacts before open enrollment so I don't have to get vision insurance next year B) I wasn't wearing my glasses for reading or at the computer because it made my eyes feel funny so I thought maybe my prescription had gotten worse and C) I am vain and was tired of wearing my glasses all the time.
My first mistake was making the appointment at the LensCrafters in the mall, but I didn't know it was in the mall when I made the appointment. I thought it was just BY the mall, so I called them before my appointment to find out where by the mall they were, because it turns out there's a lot of shit down there.
Me: Hi, I have an appointment this afternoon and I know you're down by the mall but I'm not sure exactly where.
LensCrafters Lady: Um, we're by Elder-Beerman.
Me: . . .
LL: Across from Walden Books on the first floor.
Me: Oh, you're INSIDE THE MALL.
Me: Oh! OK, I'm so glad I called.
So they already knew I was stupid, which is good because it saved me time once I got there from making an ass of myself in another way BUT THAT DIDN'T STOP ME! HAHAHA!
Once I sat there for a while and filled out some paperwork, a technician took me back for "pre-screening." She asked me a bunch of questions, like if I ever had dry eyes or headaches and if I read a lot (um, you could say that) or if I spent a lot of time on the computer (um, you could say that) or liked to poke myself repeatedly in the eye with a sharp object. Then she asked if I had any hobbies.
Me: Oh! I just started running.
Her: Um. But no hobbies that really affect your eyes?
Me: Oh! Well, not unless I fall down on a stick or something.
Her: OK, moving along . . .
But what she DOESN'T know is that it's extremely likely that I might fall down and impale my eye on a stick. Sure, it hasn't happened yet, but it COULD.
Then the doctor came in and did the whole "is 1 better? or 2? 3 . . . or 4?" I hate those tests. I mean, there's no wrong answer but I'm always afraid I'm going to say the wrong thing. Like she's messing with me and really 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 are all the exact same thing and she goes back and says, "Ha! I got another one," to the other doctors who are all hanging out in the doctor break room. Then I got in trouble for cheating during the peripheral vision test. She told me to look into her eye and tell her when I saw her fingers on either side of my face and whenever I'd see her hand starting to move I'd look over at it and she'd be all "Jennie! Stop cheating!" I wasn't doing it on purpose though. If I see a hand coming up on the side of my face, I assume it's there to slap me or something so I just wanted to be ready to duck or cry or call for help.
Anyway, it turns out that the reason wearing my glasses was making my eyes feel funny is because my eyesight has actually gotten better. It's a Christmas miracle! Only it's November. So it's a Thanksgiving miracle!
Saturday, November 03, 2007
I am not making this up. I'm blaming it on my extreme suggestibility, because Heidi and I have been watching America's Next Top Model and there is a girl with Asperger's on there. And basically all I knew about Asperger's was that it's a mild form of autism and nothing Asperger's Girl was doing on the show struck me as all that odd. So she wanted to write in her journal rather than hang out with all those catty bitches? Um, who wouldn't? Now is maybe a good time to mention that once in high school I wondered if I WAS mildly autistic, because my psychology teacher told us that people with autism don't like distractions and, IN FACT, cannot concentrate if someone so much as taps their pencil repeatedly. I was all, "OH SHIT," because I had just turned around and bitched at the girl behind me for having her feet on the back of my chair because it was causing a mild tremor all the way up to my desk.
Also, there were all those repeated viewings of Rainman.
So, OK, I thought I had Asperger's for a while. But then I looked it up on Wacko-pedia (thank you, Heather) and realized that I do not, in fact, suffer from any sort of autism, mild or otherwise. Although, here are some of the symptoms that hit a little too close to home:
Dislike any changes in routines. (No, seriously, I don't even like changing what I eat on a daily basis)
Have unusual facial expressions or postures. (OK, cause sometimes I'm just sitting there and I realize I have some crazy expression on my face FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER)
Talk a lot, usually about a favorite subject. One-sided conversations are common. Internal thoughts are often verbalized. (Hi, welcome to my blog)
Have delayed motor development. (I fall down a lot)
But, aside from all that, I realize that it's ridiculous to have even entertained the thought that I have Asperger's. Clearly, this is all Tyra's fault.
Although, I'm still not convinced that I don't have Mad Cow Disease.
Friday, November 02, 2007
You're supposed to pick a band or an artist and answer the questions with their song titles. I picked Oasis (other bands considered: The Shins, Weezer, Journey). So there.
Are you male or female? The Girl in the Dirty Shirt
Describe yourself: I Hope, I Think, I Know
How do some people feel about you? Born on a Different Cloud
How do you feel about yourself? Where Did It All Go Wrong?
Describe your ex: Cast No Shadow
Describe your current significant other: Keep the Dream Alive
Describe where you want to be: Half the World Away
Describe how you live: Roll With It
Describe how you love: Stop Crying Your Heart Out
What would you ask for if you had just one wish? Cigarettes and Alcohol
Share a few words of wisdom: Don't Look Back in Anger
Now say goodbye: Slide Away
Now you do it. It's fun. I promise.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Last night, I mooched dinner off my parents and helped them pass out candy to all the tiny children. It was funny, because they took the windows out of the screen door so it was all open and every time kids would come up to the door, Ripley (the dog) would poke her head out and stick her nose into their buckets. Some of the kids were like, "eh, whatever, a dog GIMME CANDY," but other kids were all, "OH UNHOLY BEAST! REMOVE THY NOSE FROM MY PILE OF CANDY OR I SHALL CRY AND FALL DOWN AND MAYBE POO A LITTLE IN MY PANTS."
We were allowed to dress up today at work, and yesterday I came up with a BRILLIANT idea for a costume. I was going to wear my devil horns and tail and carry around my pitchfork and write "PRADA" on a shirt. Get it? GET IT? The Devil Wears Prada? Only, by the time we got home last night, after passing out candy and going to the gym, I didn't feel like getting it all together. So INSTEAD I am wearing Heidi's Peyton Manning jersey (she offered me her Bengals jersey, but if my dad found out I was wearing a Bengals jersey, he'd disown me) and jeans. See, it's better because we don't have casual Fridays so we're never allowed to wear jeans and so this is my way of rebelling. DAMN THE MAN.
BONUS: Conversation with my roommate . . .
Heidi: Here's my jersey.
Heidi: No problem.
Me: Peyton Manning is the quarterback, right?
Heidi: Sigh. Yes.
So apparently I agreed to do this thing where I post something to my blog every day in November. Why I agreed to do this, I have no idea. Maybe I was drunk. Anyway, I need to come up with a plan so I'm not posting crap like this every day. So I don't know why I'm wasting all this time talking to YOU people. That is all.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
I don't know what I'm up against, I don't know what it's all about, I've got so much to think about HEEEEEYYYYYY
Can you believe I fell asleep during a ZOMBIE movie? Me neither. Normally, I'm cowered under a blanket or behind a pillow, but I was crazy tired. Which is like the most tired of all the tireds you can be. It's true. I read it in a science book. Ha! Like I read science books.
The reason I was so tired was because we had walked around the Oregon District's Hauntfest for a couple of hours. And it was freezing and we drank some beer and that didn't really help with the freezing because we didn't drink enough of the beer and there was so much going on that I think I got overstimulated on account of all the people in funny costumes and the movies playing on the street and the bands and the circus performers swinging on ropes or something and that is why I was so tired.
Heidi and I spent a pretty long time in Goodwill on Friday night searching for our Three's Company costumes (we found terrycloth clothing YOU GUYS IT WAS SO AWESOME), and yet once we got downtown I felt like I hadn't even dressed up. Oh well. We all still looked pretty good. See:
Come and knock on our door, INDEED.
Anyway, once we got home, we drank beer and played Mario Kart (Super Nintendo version OH SNAP) but it didn't take long for Heidi and I to get tired of Steve kicking our asses so we quit. Seriously, it was embarrasing. I suck at video games and it makes my thumbs hurt to play because I press too hard and I swing the controller all around like THAT'S gonna help. Sigh. Anyway, then we watched Dawn of the Dead and all fell asleep and now the story has come full circle so you'd think I'd quit talking now but you'd be wrong.
On Sunday, Heidi and I made pumpkins. Well, we bought pumpkins and massacred them. See:
Mine is the one on the left. I like it because it reminds me of the snowmen that Calvin (of & Hobbes) would make and slaughter in various ways. Do you think Hobbes was gay? Oh never mind, didn't he have a crush on Susie Derkins? Or do you think he only had a crush on Susie Derkins because Calvin secretly loved her? And don't tell me Calvin didn't secretly love her, because why else would he have started G.R.O.S.S. (Get Rid Of Slimy girlS)? DENIAL. THAT'S WHY. Yeah, I definitely should have quit talking before now.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
If they're not fighting, then Bo is making this horrible strangled-baby noise at like 3 AM. Why? It's the worst noise I have ever heard in my life. I hope he doesn't do it while Heidi and I are at work, otherwise our neighbors are going to call the police and tell them we've been leaving our baby home alone all day. Which is nonsense. I leave the baby in my car in the parking lot at work all day. Don't worry, I leave the trunk open a little so it gets some fresh air. I just called my baby "it." I keep doing that. The other day, this lady brought her baby in and I was telling Heidi about it and I was all, "There was this baby . . . it was cute, guess, but when I saw it I was like, what's it doing here?" and then she asked why I was calling the baby an It. I DON'T KNOW. It was a boy baby. I don't know its name, though.
What I'm trying to say is, I've been tired pretty much all week. You'd think I'd just get up the first time they wake me up, but instead I lie in bed WIDE AWAKE waiting for my alarm to go off. And then I hit snooze a couple of times. Here is a timeline:
5:18 - Cats fight on bed. Pull the covers over head to protect face.
5:45 - Phoebe takes massive dump and digs around in her litter box for like ten minutes.
6:27 - The strangled baby noises start again. They will haunt me forever.
6:30 - Heidi's alarm goes off. Church bells. Can hear them through two doors and a wall.
6:45 - My alarm goes off. Hit snooze.
6:52 - Alarm goes off again. Hit snooze.
6:59 - Alarm goes off again. Begrudgingly get out of bed.
7:00 - Brush teeth. Multi-task by feeding cat and checking email (what?) while brushing teeth. Get toothpaste all over shirt.
7:03 - Shower. Space out and forget whether I conditioned hair.
7:14 - Stand in my closet in my towel trying to figure out what to wear. Pull out first appropriate clothes I see.
7:20 - Apply lotion, deodorant, etc. Dry hair.
7:33 - Plug in hair straightener. Put on make up. Straighten hair.
7:40 - Get dressed.
7:43 - Search room frantically for shoes.
7:44 - Search room frantically for glasses.
7:45 - Grab breakfast from kitchen.
7:46 - Leave apartment.
Fascinating, yes? I'm not sure why I did that. Filler, I guess. Aaaaanyway.
Yesterday, I came home from work and saw that the sliding shelf thingie on my desk that holds my keyboard had magically fallen on the floor, knocking the keyboard and mouse and speakers and modem and router all over the place. I don't know how the hell they managed to dislodge this drawer and make such a mess, but kudos to them! I wasn't mad. I was more impressed that they'd managed to do it. They don't even have opposable thumbs. Maybe they were all strung out on whatever pills were lying around the apartment. Although, I don't know what Heidi has lying around her room, but the only pills I have in mine are birth control and ibuprofen. Also, Ecstasy.
That's a lie. I'm sorry. I don't know why I do that. I guess I just want you guys to like me and pills = love, right? That's what my parents always told me.
No, they didn't. That's a lie. I'm sorry. OK, time to stop talking.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
- t-shirt, jeans, flip-flops
- long-sleeved old navy shirt, jeans, tennis shoes
Uncle Tim would make me wear skirts! And dresses! And fancy underwear! Which, OK, that'd be a little weird. Actually, on his show, Tim Gunn doesn't help pick out the fancy underwear, Veronica does. Because not even Tim Gunn is that gay. Or women's underwear makes him uncomfortable. Or both.
Anyway, so I cleaned out my closet and now have a huge stack of clothes to give to Goodwill. Some of the clothes? I don't know why I was holding onto them. First of all, a lot of them were far too big. Second of all, I found stuff that I never even knew I had. Like this one shirt? It is the ugliest, most heinous shirt I have ever seen IN ALL MY YEARS. I'm pretty sure it was a gift because I would never spend money on something like this. It was saved from Goodwill, though, at least for a couple of days because it might be perfect for my Halloween costume. Thanks, Tim Gunn!
So now I just have to work on collecting Tim Gunn's 10 essentials, WHICH ARE:
- Basic black dress (check!)
- Trench coat (no check)
- Classic dress pants (check!)
- White shirt (check, but I don't like it and it doesn't look very good on me, so UNCHECK)
- Jeans (oh, CHECK)
- Cashmere sweater (are you kidding?)
- Skirt (eh)
- Day dress (yeah right)
- Blazer (check!)
- Sweat suit alternative (who even still buys sweat suits?)
I think Tim Gunn and I differ a lot on what constitutes a sweat suit alternative. Because a lot of the time these women end up wearing a dress as a sweat suit alternative. Um, what? No. Would you wear a dress to go grocery shopping? Or take out the trash? Or give your dog a bath? I hope not. Otherwise, you've got bigger problems than the fact that you own a SWEAT SUIT.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
and I was the one who put it there. Not sure if you can see it, but it says "Hello, my fellow Americans. I am a douchebag," at the bottom. My cousins may already be familiar with the word "douchebag," but if they're not, I really think their parents should be the ones to tell them.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
I don't remember who said this: Did you break that shot glass?
Me: I was making a tower.
Me: . . . I dunno.
Then, to get rid of the evidence, I threw the broken shot glass away in the bathroom. I thought this would be the biggest mishap of the evening, but THEN my parents decided to stop by and that's when all hell broke loose.
Hokay. So. If the bouncers hadn't stepped in, this would have been the statement I gave the police, because I'm pretty sure someone would have gotten their ass kicked or thrown in jail:
Slutty Girl who had been dancing like a stripper all night approaches our table. She asks my dad what time it is, but she has her cell phone out.
Mom: Just look at your phone.
Slutty Girl: [indecipherable screeching and yelling at my mom]
Mom: Go away!
Slutty Girl yells more. Mom yells more. I start yelling. Slutty Girl starts waving finger around in Mom's face. Mom gets up. Slutty Girl shoves Mom. I stand up and approach Slutty Girl, put my hand on her chest and push her back.
Me: That's my mom!
Slutty Girl: [more screeching]
Slutty Girl pushes me. Mary gets up. Mary pushes Slutty Girl. Dad grabs my arm and tells me to sit down. I do not.
Slutty Girl to Mary: I'm gonna kick your ass!
Mary: Bring it on, bitch!*
Bouncers break in and push Slutty Girl toward the door. Mary follows. I try and follow Mary, but another bouncer grabs my arm and won't let me.
Me: Let me go, that's my friend.
Bouncer: It's OK, they're kicking that girl out.
Me: . . . I just want to go over there.
Me: But . . .
Bouncers kick Slutty Girl and her (slutty) friend out of the bar. Victory! Later, Slutty Girl and her friend try to come back into the bar and are immediately kicked out again. As she was leaving (again!), she pointed at our table all "I am going to slash your tires or your throat, I'M NOT SURE WHICH YET," and later, as the bar was closing, a bouncer came over and told us that Slutty Girl was waiting outside for us. We had a shot, stood around talking about what a moron she was because THERE WERE SIX OF US and also the bouncers and also some HUGE tall guy we were suddenly friends with. But when we went outside, she was gone. Too bad. We were ready. I mean, Kate had even taken her rings off so Slutty Girl's face wouldn't break them.
So . . . I think that's mostly how it happened. It escalated quickly because THAT BITCH WAS CRAZY. I think I dropped more f-bombs than I've ever dropped, especially in front of my parents. Also, at some point Slutty Girl's friend tried to swing at my mom, but my mom caught her fist and wouldn't let go.
Moral of the story: Do not fuck with my mom. Also? DO NOT ask my dad what time it is.
*this phrase was repeated A LOT over the course of the weekend
Friday, October 19, 2007
Mary and Janna are driving in from the faraway lands of Chicago and Michigan and once they arrive, I fully expect insanity to start raining from the sky. Or something. They are crazy. Especially Janna. I mean this in a good way. I may not live for the weekend. Or maybe just my liver might not live through the weekend. Although my liver has survived worse. Probably.
Last night, even though Heidi had a traumatic experience with Red Lobster (long story) and I had a belly full of Penn Station, we went running and I seriously wanted to die at the end. The only reason I decided not to die was because we hadn't watched Ugly Betty or The Office yet. Then Henry and Dwight went and broke my shriveled little heart into itty bitty pieces and I wanted to die again.
Speaking of Penn Station (Nice segue, Jennie. Why thank you, Jennie), I told Heidi that we're not allowed to go there for at least a month because last night I went without her and the boy at the cash register asked me where my sidekick was. Another boy there knows both of our names. So. Yeah. It's time to give Penn Station a rest for a while. And now I want to die again. But only a little because I need to be sort of alive for this weekend. And now we have come full circle. DUN DUN DUUUUUN! I don't know.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Discovered by the Germans in 1904, they named it San Diego, which of course in German means a whale's vagina.
part of the 365 project
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
part of the 365 project
WHAT THE HELL DO I KNOW*?
*enough to know I don't know much
On Monday, I half-heartedly declared it WORST. DAY. EVER. Week, but my heart's not in it. Not even half my heart. Too many not-worst things have happened; good news from the doctor, secret projects, friends making plans to come visit. It's not a shitty week, really. It's just blah enough to make me wish it was over.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
part of the 365 project
Monday, October 15, 2007
part of the 365 project
Please take the chairs away. I don't like them. The big one is staring at me and that short one is being very droll.
It was a good weekend, although I did absolutely nothing productive. On Friday, Heidi and I watched Knocked Up and a bunch of episodes of Ugly Betty and got drunk off of four beers. WTF? I'm ashamed of myself.
We were all good on Saturday and went to the library and then we decided that since it was such a nice day we shouldn't waste it because it's Ohio and soon the weather will be so shitty that I will want to cry, cry, cry all day long. True story. So we went to the Nature Reserve and accidentally ended up hiking 3 miles.
Later that night, Steve came over and we all went to this bar. I think it might be a good one. We've only been twice but it's been fun both times. Let's break it down, shall we?
$4 pitchers of beer
lots of tables
buffalo head on wall
only one Oasis song on the jukebox (Lyla)
I think the $4 pitchers win. Somehow we ended up polishing off a good four of them and also a Washington Apple. We also poured some money into the jukebox, took a cab home ($6!!!), and lit something on fire and threw it into the pond. What? It was for HEIDI!!! I think she found it very cathartic. Am I right, Heidi? Then we called Heidi's brother and told him we were lost in Kalamazoo. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? (I totally stole that from someone).
Also, at this bar, when I was coming back from the bathroom some guy told me I was hot. I was really flattered until I realized he was the same guy who had been shouting so loudly along to Say it Ain't So* that I could HEAR HIM IN THE BATHROOM. Seriously, it sounded like he was in the stall next to me. Still, it was flattering, even though he was clearly so shitfaced that he thought it would be a good idea to ruin a Weezer song for the entire bar.
All I managed to do yesterday was watch more Ugly Betty and mooch dinner off of my parents. So . . . yeah. Good times.
*I have absolutely no idea if that is a link to the right video because I can't watch Youtube right now because Big Brother is watching.
WAH WAH WAAAAAAAAAH!
OK, I'll stop.
Friday, October 12, 2007
I know this is weird because we work together, and because up until and possibly including now, I’ve repulsed you, but I like you.
Last night. Heidi and I went to Target. And I bought . . . NOTHING. Not one thing. Not even more $1 spot crap. I mean, sure, at one point I was holding both a DVD (Sense & Sensibility . . . $5.50!) and a CD (Iron & Wine . . . $9.99!) but I guilted myself into putting them down. Because it doesn't matter how incredibly cheap they both were, I DON'T NEED THEM. Whatever. That's $15.49 more I have to spend in DC, right? Right. Bah. Being responsible sucks hardcore.
So earlier this week it was like 90 degrees. I am not exaggerating. Monday was effing hot. So hot, that after my doctor's appointment I went to the library to get some movies (because they're free there) and I sat on the sofa all day watching them. Because it was 600 degrees in our apartment. No joke. I checked the thermostat and that's what it said.
Clearly, since it was 90 degrees on Monday, it makes perfect sense that on Wednesday it was only like 55. I mean, that makes total sense, right? I came home from work and all of our windows were still open and our apartment was FREEZING. OK, the thermostat said it was like 62 degrees, but it felt freezing. Why is it that 62 degrees feels so good when you're outside but when you're inside it makes you feel like your toes are going to fall off? Anyway, so it's fall now. Awesome. I'm glad it's no longer so hot outside that after I finish getting ready in the morning, I need another shower, but why the drastic change? We had one day where it was beautiful and sunny and 70 degrees. ONE DAY. Although, since this is Ohio, I suppose I should be glad we got even one day. Oh my god, I have been talking about the weather for a looooong time now. Stop. Seriously.
Did you know they make Halloween cards now? They do. Why? Because card companies are greedy. Also? Suddenly everyone has those giant inflatable pumpkin decorations in their lawn. Heidi and I saw about a million of them last night when we went running. True story.
Remember how last Halloween I fucked around so long with deciding what costume I wanted that I ended up having to go as a slutty devil? WELL NOT THIS YEAR. Because Heidi, Steve and I are going as Three's Company. Not the show itself, but the people. You know what I mean. If you know what we all look like, it makes perfect sense. PERFECT. Try not to get too excited. I know we are MIND-BLOWINGLY AWESOME but don't worry, one day you can be mind-blowingly awesome, too.