Tuesday, July 31, 2007

spider pig, spider pig, does whatever a spider pig does, can he swing, from a web, no he can't, cause he's a pig

Yesterday, I was kind of like the opposite of Santa Claus. My aunt and mom both said I could come over and raid their bookshelves for stuff to donate to Books for Soldiers through work, because today was the last day. Until they do it again. Or something. I was kind of confused. SURPRISE SURPRISE.

Anyway, so I went to my aunt's first and she gave me a huge bag of books. Easy. I didn't even have to come down the chimney. Then I went to The House of My Parents. My dad was out of town, but he told my mom I could take any of his books that weren't part of a series. He was going to take them all to Half Price Books to sell them anyway, but I swooped in with my sob story about bored soldiers and stole the books from the bookstore. Haha! Take that, Half Price Books! I'm sorry, was that mean? Whatever, they get enough of my money anyway.

So there I am, sitting on the floor in front of the bookcase, pulling book after book from the shelves and I was getting more and more verklempt because I was getting rid of SO MANY BOOKS. I just kept saying, "Are you sure? All of these? Really? What if Dad wants to reread them? BUT WHAT IF HE MISSES THEM?!?" until my mom called my dad so I could hear straight from him that it was OK. I'm not kidding, you guys, it physically hurt me to get rid of that many books at one time AND THEY WEREN'T EVEN MY BOOKS. Clearly, I have a problem. That is news to no one, I'm sure.

The troops weren't the only ones that made out like bandits. Does anyone else think the phrase "made out like bandits" is kind of confusing? I mean, sure, it could just sound like you got a lot of free shit, but it also kind of sounds like the bandits are, I don't know, making out. Like with lips and stuff. You know?

What was I saying? Oh, right. Not only did I get free Chinese food last night (my fortune: you have an unusually magnetic personality . . . thank you, fortune cookie, but THAT IS NOT A FORTUNE TELL MY FUTURE RIGHT NOW), but my mom also sent me home with a pair of flip flops, some sneakers, a pair of shorts, and best of all, a bottle of wine. Heidi and I thank you, mother.

So I had all these books, right? And I had to take them to work this morning. And there were a lot of them. My mom said I should look for a guy in the parking lot to carry them for me and Heidi suggested I wear a low-cut shirt and use my cleavage to rustle up some man-slaves, but when I got to work this morning there were no mans in the parking lot. So I carried them all in myself, but that's fine because I don't like asking for help anyway. If my hair was on fire and I was surrounded by firemen with big hoses (heh), the most I could probably muster would be, "um, excuse me, sir, but could I bother you to point your hose in my direction?" Again, heh. That got weird. I'm sorry. That happens a lot here and I don't know how.

Anyway, so a little while after I had dumped all the books in the donation bin, I remembered that I had also thrown some magazines in there. Magazines with my name and address on them. I mean, I'm assuming they remove any addresses if they see them. But just in case(s), I warned Heidi that we might end up with some random Army men (not the little green plastic ones) and Marines on our front step. She seemed OK with it.

Monday, July 30, 2007

courtesy of The Block

We last left our heroes HERE.

The Evil Summer: Part THREE

"Oh my god!" we both whisperd. Chris asked, "Are you evil?"

"I'm not, but the evil is inside me, waiting until I'm angry, to come out and attack, or kill." he said.

"Wh-aa-at, what's wrong," it was Randy's voice now. "You guys look like you saw a ghost!"

"You mean, you don't remember!" I said. "You sounded so weird. You said your name was Patrick and that you killed someone."

Then Randy started laughing and said, "I can't believe you guys believed me. I was just foolin around!" He was still laughing.

"God, Randy, I can't believe you. You're such a jerk." I yelled.

As I ran up the stairs I heard Chris run up behind me and heard Randy yell, "Courtney, Chris, jeez, can't you guys take a joke."

Chris and I ran outside. Our parents were already building a fire. I looked at my watch, it was 6:30. We were downstairs for 3 hours.

"Let's get something to eat," I said. "I swear, I'm never talking to Randy again!"

Chris said, "Why are you so mad. He did it to all of us and I'm not mad."

"Its just that, he was actually acting decent. Then he pulled that stupid trick!"


Oh wonderful, it was Randy.

"Ignore him," I whispered.

"Courtney, why are you so mad at me?" He asked.

"She likes you!" Chris said.

"Shut up, Chris!" I cried and hit her. Then she hit me back.*

"Oh you do, do you?" Randy teased.

"Oh yeah. When hell freezes over and the devil gives out free hot chocolate!" I said.

I walked into the garage, where the food was. I got some chips and a Pepsi and walked over to the porch and sat down on the steps. Suddenly, Chris ran up to me.

"Where are . . . our parents!" she asked.

"Where do you think, over by the fire." I replied.

She grabbed my arm and I got up. She dragged me through the yard to the fire. No one was there. The fire was dying down and glasses of Ammereto** and beer were sitting next to the lawn chairs. No signs of anyone. Chris and I ran back to the house. We searched every room, even the basement. We found Randy and Justin in Chris's room.

"What are you doing up here?" Chris asked.

"Trying to find you guys." said Randy. "Where were you?"

"Looking for our parents." Chris said.

"We've looked everywhere. Everyones cars are here."

"Are you still mad at me, Court?" Randy asked.

"I guess not. I still can't believe you faked it like that.***" I said.

"Are you sure I was faking?" It was Patrick's voice.

Randy pulled out a knife. Chris, Justin and I backed out of the room. We were standing on the stairs.

"C'mon, Randy stop fooling around!" I said.

"I'm not fooling around!" he yelled.

Then he threw the knife at us. Chris and Justin ducked. I felt a line of fire on my side. I looked down and saw my shirt soaked with blood.


Will Courtney survive? Did all that teenage angst make you want to poke your eyes out? Did Jennie read anything other than horror books when she was 12****? Find out next time on . . . The Evil Summer!

*these kids are so VIOLENT
***that's what he said
****not really

Friday, July 27, 2007

Cage matches? Yeah, they work. How could they not work? If they didn’t work, everybody would still be in the cage.

You guys, I am in trouble. I grounded myself. I am grounded from going anywhere other than the gym this weekend. Also, maybe the pool if the weather shapes up and behaves itself. Stupid weather.

The reason I am grounded? I am SO. FAR. BEHIND. on my articles, it's not even funny. It's not. Try laughing. I dare you. You can't do it because, as previously mentioned, it's not even funny. I got home like an hour ago and I haven't gotten any work done yet, but I HAVE listened to the radio and called Heidi and changed into my gym clothes. So. Suck it.

Quick question. Can cats back up? The reason I ask is, Bo just crawled in between my dresser and the wall and it's pretty goddamn tight back there and there's NO WAY OUT on the other end so I think he's either going to have to back up or I'm going to have to move the dresser and the dresser is heavy but if I had to move the whole dresser maybe I could call it a workout and skip the gym. Never mind, he's out. Somehow he turned around. I have no idea how. Maybe he is a magical cat from the land of Narnia or Hogwarts or New Jersey. The end.

On the way home from work I heard this song on the radio. I used to know all the words and would sing it (drunkenly) at parties or the bar in college. Good times. Between that and obnoxiously bellowing Kelly Clarkson, could I BE more annoying? Chandler out.

In other song news, this is my new favorite song to work out to. It makes me happy. And want to run faster. Win win (win).

Man, I thought of all this stuff to tell you guys while I was at work today and now I can't remember any of it. Oh well.

Did your grandma ever used to say this to you?

There once was a girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very very good, but when she was bad she was horrid.

Cause mine did. All the time.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go pout and sigh heavily in front of the mirror so I can see how upset my punishment has made me.

this will all make perfect sense someday


*Yes, this IS a rerun. What do you expect? It's summer. Get over it.**
**I love you.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

This is what you get until THE BLOCK goes away

Yes, I am going to subject you to more writing by 12-year-old Jennie. You might want to read Part One first. Not like it matters. Do whatever you want. I don't care.

The Evil Summer: PART TWO

Chris got out a cot and a bunch of big pillows and heavy blankets.

"OK, Randy!" I said. "Lay down."

"No way, first tell me what's gonna happen." he said.

"Well, you lie on the cot and we cover you up with pillows and blankets. Then we pretend you died and say why we'll miss you. Then your* sopposed* to feel like your* underground. Then a spirit is supposed to come out and we'll ask you questions!" I said.

Randy started laughing and Chris hit him and told him to shut up.

"You have to be serious!" she said.

"OK, I'll try to, but it's kinda stupid." he said.

Chris pushed Randy down onto the cot**. Then she threw a blanket on top of him.

"OK, now everyone sit in a circle" she said.

Chris sat on Randy's left, next to his head. I sat across from her on Randy's right. Bret sat next to Chris and Josh sat next to me. Justin sat at Randy's feet. Chris started talking.

"OK, Randy, take a deep breath. Now let it out slowly. Feel the life leaving your body. Good, now take another breath and let it out. This time feel your heartbeat slowing down." she continued. "I'll miss Randy because he was funny and fun to beat up."

Then Randy said something in a deep voice.

"What did he say?" I asked.

Chris said, "I don't know!" as we both leaned over Randy's face.

"Auughhhh!!" he screamed. Chris and I screamed.

"Randy, you jerk!" I yelled.

"I told you to be serious!" Chris said.

"Great now we have to start all over" Josh said.

Chris covered Randy back up after kicking him in the head two times. Then she started over with the breathing. Next she told everyone to say why they would miss him.

"I don't know what to say. I only see him once a year. I'll miss him because he was funny and acted crazy all the time," I said.

Josh went next. "I'll miss him because he was one of my funniest friends."

"I didn't know him good, but he was great at throwing water balloons at Courtney and Chris!" said Justin.

Bret said, "I'll miss him because he was one of my best friends. He was really cool and loved playing with fire."

Then Chris told us it was time to bury him. We all grabbed 2 pillows each. As we threw them on top of Randy, Chris said, "Your falling deep into the ground, falling farther. Down underground." She said that a few more times and we sat around and watched. Then Chris stopped and told us she was gonna start asking questions.

"What's your name?" Chris asked.

Then a voice answered. It was deep and scratchy. Right then I knew we were in trouble.

"Patrick Oleson" said the voice.

"Partick, how old are you" asked Chris.

"I am 14 years old." Patrick answered.

"Let me ask a question!" Josh said, "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"JOSH!" We all yelled at once.


"Yes, I have," said Patrick. Chris and I looked at each other.

"Oh, my god!" we both whispered. Chris asked, "Are you evil?"

Is Randy/Patrick evil? Do you have any idea who all of these people are? Will Jennie ever figure out the difference between "your" and "you're?***" TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR . . . The Evil Summer.

*it physically hurts me to not fix all the grammar and spelling errors
***Oh oh oh, and by the way, Y-O-U-apostrophe-R-E means 'you are.' Y-O-U-R means 'your!'

important reading

This guy knows what he's talking about. See also: this.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

my brain is scary

The other night, I had a dream that I was running frantically around this really nice apartment/house type place. Seriously, it was beautiful. And huge. But there were no windows. And Tom Cruise was trying to lock me in this huge, beautiful house. Hence the frantic running.

When I woke up, I started to remember other details of the dream. Like that Tom Cruise was trying to lock me in this house with Jake Gyllenhaal. So I'm not sure why I was running. Why would anyone fight that? No idea.

Eventually, I ran away from Tom Cruise and got outside. Then he threw a skunk at me. It didn't spray me, though, which really pissed off Tom Cruise.

Oh my god. Do you see why I need your help?

Monday, July 23, 2007

I'm tired of thinking. It makes my brain cry.

Are you there, Internets? It's me, Jennie. I don't know if you've noticed, but there have been an awful lot of posts about Harry Potter lately. And the rest of the posts? Not good. Not good at all. That is because I have run out of things to talk about. True story.

Remember last March? It wasn't that long ago. Anyway, we played this game where you asked me questions and I answered them? Some of them? Because I have ADD (lies) and I forgot the game after like a month? UNTIL NOW. Note to self: answer the rest of those questions because it's rude not to and you hate to be rude HAHAHA stop laughing at me and pay attention. I have a point. I think.

Please tell me what to write about, Internets. I've got nothing. I'm out. Tapped. Toe up. THIS PARROT IS NO MORE. IT HAS CEASED TO BE. Um. Right. So, yeah. Tell me what to write about. I'll write about ANYTHING, even how awesome Dubya is. Ha! No, seriously, ha! OK, so maybe I won't write about anything, but I'll write about ALMOST anything.

Help me, Internets, you're my only hope.

now what?

So Harry Potter Day has come and gone. I got my copy on Saturday and finished it this morning around 12:30 because I was DETERMINED to finish it before work today, because I don't trust people not to ruin things for me. Moment-ruiners. So it's over. You may think I seem remarkably calm about it, but really in my head I'm all, "OH NOOOOOOOO WHAT AM I GONNA DO NOOOOOW HARRY POTTER IS OOOOOVEEERRRRR," and clutching my hair and clawing at my face. It's very dramatic. I wish you could see it.

Alright, I'm exaggerating. What, like you're surprised? But I am very sad that it's all over, even though I'm happy with how it ended. You know how I take TV shows too seriously? Well, I'm worse with books. Sometimes they make me cry so hard I want to put them in the freezer. Sometimes they're so good that as soon as I'm finished, I want to read it all over again. I want to be buried with a copies of Pride & Prejudice and The Catcher in the Rye. Ha! I'm totally kidding. I don't want to be buried, I want to be cremated.

Why am I talking about my funeral? Anyway, there was a tiny snag in obtaining my copy of The Deathly Hallows. I waited all morning for the UPS man to bring it to me. ALL MORNING. When it still hadn't come by noon thirty, I briefly considered driving to Books & Co. to get a copy. I even called them to see if they still had some. I talked myself out of it because, um, that would have been crazy. Finally, I decided that I couldn't justify hanging around the apartment all day and so Heidi and I went to the pool. I checked our mail before we left and LO AND BEHOLD there was a card from the postman! Saying he was sorry he missed me! But that he'd left a package in the office! That's when I remembered that when I ordered my book, I had it sent through the postal service and not UPS. Oops. Hey, I never claimed to be smart. I ran back up to our apartment, clasping the card in my hand, and jumped around shouting, "it's here, it's here, it's in the office, my book is here, my book is here" while Heidi backed away slowly from the crazy, crazy lady.

We left for the pool but as we approached the office, we saw the leasing lady driving away in a golf cart with some other people, presumably to show them an apartment. I sensed a slight hiccup in my plan, but hoped there were maybe two leasing consultants working in the office that day.

ALAS! No one was in the office when we entered. I was so close to my book. It was RIGHT THERE but no one was there to get it for me. Then I remembered. I knew they kept the packages in an unlocked closet behind an unlocked door in an unlocked room. Unlocked! I weighed my options. I could go to the pool and wait for the lady to come back from showing apartments, but that would take tens of minutes. Tens! Of! Minutes! I didn't have time to waste! I had over 700 pages to read this weekend and those tens of minutes were important!

The obvious answer was staring me in the face. I knew where my book was. Heidi would be the only witness to my crime. I wouldn't even need to use any trickery to break into the closet because it was unlocked. What would YOU have done in that situation? I'm guessing you'd do what I did, which was throw open the closet door, grab the book, and then run out to the dumpster to throw away all evidence that the book had ever arrived by mail. I mean, if Harry Potter taught me anything, it's that it's OK to bend the rules once in a while. I think even Hermione would approve.

Friday, July 20, 2007

girl inform me, all my senses warn me

You guys, I am having the lamest Friday night ever. For serious. I came home, put my gym clothes on so I can't talk myself out of going later, and wrote an article. I don't know why I was putting it off. It was How to Plan a Yankee Swap and I'm totally an expert at it because I have seen that episode of The Office approximately FIFTY TIMES NO JOKE YOU GUYS I AM NOT KIDDING! I'm sorry. I'm just a little excited right now, what with the writing about The Office and Harry Potter tomorrow. The reason I am staying in tonight and writing articles is so I can stick my face in Harry Potter for the rest of the weekend, guilt-free. That sounded bad. I apologize.

So you may be asking yourself, "Self? Why is Jennie writing in her blog when she should be writing articles?" Well, I think you should tell yourself to shut the hell up and mind your own business. Writing in here loosens up my writing muscles so I can write stuff like How to Shred a Coconut. You have to properly warm up before that kind of thing. No joke, you guys. No. Joke.

I'm cat-sitting again for my aunt and uncle's cat, Bo. He's being a little bitch right now. Must be something about the name (haha BEAU). Just kidding. He's not being a little bitch, really, he's just lonely and confused. But he keeps tormenting Murray (formerly Phoebe) and I don't think Murray likes spending all her time under the bed. I know the reason they fight all the time is because they secretly love each other and will get together in the last scene of the movie. I wonder when the last scene of the movie is? I'd like to be prepared, so I can be ready to have my own romantic-comedy-cheesy-love-kiss in the middle of a crowded street (where it's snowing and I'm not wearing any pants and also Colin Firth is there . . . awesome). You know what I mean? I need to make sure I'm not wearing granny panties.

Wow, that got weird really fast. I don't know how that always happens. Anyway, when my aunt and cousins brought Bo over, the first thing I noticed was that Joey has grown approximately 10 feet since I last saw him. Which is . . . just . . . fantastic. I can't wait for all of my little cousins, the ones I used to babysit and who I like to torment by telling them I used to change their diapers, are all towering over me. Whatever. I've grown accustomed to my height, or lack thereof. I like climbing on counters. And I'm still taller than Katie! Ha! Also, Sammy! Double ha!

I like when Bo comes over, because he lets me pick him up. Murray doesn't let me pick her up. I used to get mad about it, but now it doesn't bother me, because I realized it must be very disconcerting to have someone just pluck you off the ground and cradle you like a little baby. I mean, how would YOU feel if a giant came along and picked you up and took you home and made you his pet? You'd probably be pretty mad, right? And you'd try to claw his eyes out? Well, then don't get mad when that's exactly what Murray does to you.

Again, that got weird really quickly. Since Joey had never been to my apartment, I gave him the thirteen second tour (because that's how long it takes to walk around our apartment). We were all standing in my room, when Katie looked at my computer and said, "Wow, Jennie, I'm glad to see you're spending your time on the Internet wisely," JUST BECAUSE I happened to be reading this (courtesy of Kat) when they came over. Pshaw. Teenagers are so judgemental.

the lotion and the powder have made a PASTE

Heidi, you may not want to read this because I am totally about to NERD OUT about Harry Potter. You have been warned.

So, there's this book coming out tomorrow. Maybe you've heard of it. It's about a brave boy wizard and his magical friends. They do magic and stuff. And fight bad guys. And two of them better make out, is all I'm saying. They go lots of places, too. Like a magical school. And this place with flying brains. And chambers with secrets in them. And this weird forest (you might even call it . . . FORBIDDEN) that you're not supposed to go into if you're a child but sometimes they do anyway because that's how they roll. Places like that. They've never gone to Planet Unicorn, but they totally should. Anyway, so this book is coming out. It's KIND OF a big deal. People keep telling me there are spoilers all over The Internets and even in the NEW YORK TIMES but luckily I get all of my news from The Daily Show so I am as of yet unspoiled. I swear to the little baby Jesus, if anyone spoils the last book for me, I will kick them so hard in the babymaker that all of their already-born babies will feel it. And if they haven't had any kids yet, then their babies in the future will be all, "ow, who kicked me?" but unless they have a time machine or wait for me to catch up to their time, they will never be able to kick me back. I think. That was sort of confusing.

I thought about maybe just locking myself in my room for the entire weekend (or LONGER). However long it takes me to finish the book, anyway. Then I remembered that I have The Internets in my room, so I could still be spoiled. So I don't know. If I haven't finished the book by the time work starts on Monday, do you think I could call in sick? I'm a fast reader, quick like a bunny, but what if someone at work got the book a couple of hours before me? And what if they're already done and they're all "ooh, what did you think of so-and-so dying?" and I'll be like "SO-AND-SO DIED?! WHY DID YOU TELL ME THAT, YOU FUCKER?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! SAY HI TO SO-AND-SO BECAUSE I AM ABOUT TO STRAIGHT UP AXE MURDER YOU!" and then I will get fired for calling my coworker a fucker. And also threatening to axe murder them. So you see my dilemma.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I have such problems, right? Anyway, don't be offended if you try to talk to me and I stick my fingers in my ears and start shouting, "I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU LA LA LA LA," just please don't throw a chicken in my face because I might poop my pants and my new years resolution was to stop doing that.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Life can be so fair, let it go on and on

Do you guys ever have those weeks where every day you come home from work and want to immediately crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head? I'm having one of those weeks. Only it's more like I get out of bed in the morning and want to turn right around and crawl back in. Whatever. Semantics.

I haven't given into this desire, though. Oh, no, I have not! Instead I come home, make dinner, read, watch TV, go to the gym, blah blah yadda yadda. You guys know how I like to entertain myself by making up scenarios in my head when I'm bored, right? I'm beginning to think it's getting to the point where it's not healthy. Like the life I'm inventing in my head is a lot better than the one I'm living. How do I switch that? If life really was like Choose Your Own Adventure (psst, Kat, hee), I'm pretty sure I've willingly made some of the stupidest choices possible. Like, you know how you would read those books and when it came time to choose between A and B, you'd look ahead, right? I did anyway. Well, it's like that, only I'm still choosing A when I already looked a head and A is like, the long, lonely path of loneliness and B is . . . I don't know, marrying Jake Gyllenhaal and then winning a million dollars that you turn around and give to charity because you don't NEED a million dollars because you just married Jake Gyllenhaal. My brain is all, "Choose B! B is good! B is the smart choice . . . trust me. I'm your brain. When have I ever let you down before?" And then I go ahead and choose A and when I look back on all the choices I've made the past couple of months, I don't necessarily think they were the wrong ones, I just wonder what would have happened if I'd picked B a couple times.

Does anyone know what I'm talking about? Because I don't even know. Oh well. So in the whole spirit of not crawling into bed at 5:30 every night this week, I made sure I called my mom tonight to wish her a happy birthday. Because it's her birthday. Makes sense, if you think about it. It's also their anniversary. My parents. Duh. They got married on my mom's birthday, which was really smart of my dad because it's only one date he has to remember. Although, like my mom told me earlier, he's totally screwed if he forgets that one date. My parents are on vacation up at Niagara Falls (the Canadian side) because even though they've been together since high school and married for 107 years, they still want to hang out ALL THE TIME. Doesn't that just make you want to throw up? I blame them for the fact that I'll probably never get married, because I don't want to get married unless it's to someone I'll still look forward to hanging out with in 107 years. And sure, that might happen, but the odds of me finding someone who can put up with me for 107 years? Not good.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

apples: nature's candy

This is the email I just sent Heidi:

Agreed, my friend. Agreed. So I’m eating an apple and it’s really juicy and some juice got on my leg. I don’t care though because apples are delicious. I would eat one every day if I could. That’s a lot of stem twisting, though, so I’d probably get tired. Stem twisting sounds kind of dirty.

So along with being borderline bipolar, I'm also apparently exhibiting signs of ADD. Nothing new there.

if I had a million dollars, I'd build a tree fort in our yard, if I had a million dollars, you could help, it wouldn't be that hard

Sometimes I worry that really small things can have a such a big effect on my mood. Small things like that even though I was an English major, I can never remember the difference between affect and effect. I KNOW the difference, I just always second guess myself. Other little things that can affect (ha!) my mood in good or bad ways? A phone call, an email, lack of a phone call or an email, making a tiny mistake, hearing a good song on the radio, hearing Creed on the radio (that can send me into a murderous rage), or something even less tangible, like getting good or bad news I wasn't expecting. Or, you know, someone calls me "hun" at work and I wonder how much trouble I'd get in if I kicked them square in the nuts. I spent the majority of yesterday on the verge of tears, ready to punch someone (I didn't, though, but if I had, do you think I could have blamed my uterus? Lawyers? A little help?), and didn't start to feel better until I got back from the gym last night. Now, part of this could be because, as Elle Woods says, "Exercise give you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't shoot their husbands. They just don't," and I did not even have to look that up and I don't know whether to be proud of that fact or not. Anyway, Elle Woods IS right. I always do feel better after working out. Or at least I feel less guilty about eating all the birthday cake at work but OH MY GOD why do people keep having birthdays and making me eat chocolate cake and ice cream all the time? Selfish.

Where was I? Oh yes. Sure, the exercise gave me some endorphins, so I didn't shoot my husband but I wasn't REALLY in a good mood until I walked into the kitchen and saw Heidi packing her lunch. She was putting sour cream in a Ziploc baggie because all of our tiny, plastic containers are dirty, and let me just say . . . it made me giggle a lot because a bag of sour cream looks a lot like a bag of semen which looks NOTHING like a bag of pot. True story. I have pictures. Of the sour cream! Not a bag of semen! I've never put semen in a baggie, I promise.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

I'm good at it, I've mastered it, avoiding avoiding everything.

I'm a list-maker. I find them comforting. I can't pack for a trip without one and it's very satisfying to be able to put a thick, dark line through something I've finished. My problem is that, like with everything else in my life, I put off making a list because once I see all those uncompleted tasks in front of me, I get very depressed and want to throw it away and pretend the only thing I need to be doing is watching reruns of The Office.

However, since I am now (over) a quarter of a century old, I have decided that I need to get my life in order. The things I can control anyway. It's funny, I'm a bit of a control freak (heh, a bit), but there are so many little tasks I let go until they seem insurmountable, so then I live in a magical land of denial and pretend those tasks either don't exist or completed themselves without me. I guess I'm only a control freak about the things I really have no control over and I don't know if you know this but that is pretty damn frustrating.

ALSO. Heidi and I, for different reasons, are both in need of distraction, and since it's summer and there's not much on TV, we've decided to distract ourselves with the gym. I'm not sure how that's going to work. I mean, I'm all for distraction, but I wouldn't put it past me to get distracted by something shiny on the way to the gym and forget to work out altogether. In any case, at least I'll be able to cross "distract self" off my list.

Look at me, pretending to be a grown-up.

Monday, July 16, 2007

I always keep my promises

This beer exploded. Kind of. More like its ass fell off. And then leaked all over the counter. We're still not really sure what happened, but let's have a moment of silence, shall we?

Can someone play TAPS?

hurry boy, she's waiting there for you

I had a strange weekend, Internets. On Friday, Heidi and I bought beer and pizza. Which is not at all strange or important to the story but I told you anyway so deal with it. Then we came home, ate our pizza, and drank our beer while watching Bring It On and then Elf and while we drank beer and watched these movie classics we made posters. Posters! With markers! And stickers! Also! Thank you, Kat, for the fun poster stuff you sent! We used almost all of it! On the posters!

Oh my god. So I probably should have mentioned that I didn't really sleep last night. I just kind of stared at the ceiling (I tried counting stars on the ceiling but it turns out there aren't any stars on my ceiling . . . a situation I believe should be rectified AS SOON AS POSSIBLE . . . does anyone else think the word "rectified" sounds kind of dirty?) . . . OK, what was I saying? Oh, right, so I didn't really sleep last night. Which is really nothing new, but it should explain why nothing I am about to say is going to make any sense. Are we all clear on that? OK, good.

Anyway, we were making posters because Kate got back from MALAWI AFRICA on Saturday and CLEARLY the first thing she needed to see was her obnoxious friends holding some huge posters.

Did you just hear what I said? KATE IS BACK. FROM MALAWI AFRICA. That's where Madonna tried to steal a baby. Heidi and I got up at 8 o'clock ON A SATURDAY in order to get to the Columbus airport on time, but it turned out we didn't need to leave as early as we did because, go figure, Kate's flight was delayed. I thought maybe it was because a giraffe tried to get on the plane with her in Africa, but I guess it got delayed in Georgia. So, I don't know, maybe a peach tree tried to get on the plane or something.

When we left for the airport, I walked out to my car and noticed something unusual on the ground.

Me: Heidi.
Heidi: Yes?
Me: Heidi.
Heidi: What?
Me: There is a condom on the ground over here.
Heidi: . . .
Me: And it's used.
Heidi: Ew!
Me: I know.
Heidi: I did not need to see that.
Me: It is far too early for used condoms.

I mean, I'm pretty sure there's never a good time to see a used condom. But especially not at 9 AM ON A SATURDAY after you've just inhaled an english muffin and a huge glass of chocolate milk. In case you're interested (and really, why wouldn't you be?), it was still there when I left for work today.

So that was an eventful start to the trip. We got to the airport and sat at McDonald's drinking the largest iced coffees known to mankind and also womankind and probably alienkind, too. Then we decided to go look for a Target, because we had like three hours to kill and ALSO I needed to find an ATM so I could get some cash to pay for parking because I didn't even have enough cash to pay for my Sausage McMuffin and that was less than TWO DOLLARS. Cash is stupid, I hate carrying it. So we got back on the highway and pulled off at a random exit.

Me: OK. So now we need to find a Target.
Heidi: I think we can do it.
Me: Me too. You know how Spiderman has spidey sense? I think we have Target sense.
Heidi: Indeed.
Me: If we actually find a Target I will poop my pants.
Heidi: Then I'll laugh at you because your pants will have poop on them.
Me: Whatever, we'll be at Target, I'll buy new, poopless pants.

And do you know, Internets? We DID find a Target! I did not poop my pants, though. I bought some music instead. It was on sale and there is nothing I like more than discounted music. Unless it's free music. I sometimes wish I didn't have to buy food because then I could spend all my money on music and books. Anyway. More conversations, because they are easier than whole paragraphs and I am lazy.

Heidi: Did you buy a band called Spoon?
Me: Yes, I did.
Heidi: Where are Knife and Fork?
Me: Oh ha ha.
Heidi: I am going to use your Spoon and hit you in The Shins.
Me: You are so clever. How did you get to be so clever?
Heidi: Well, one day I thought I needed to be clever. So I decided to be clever and then I was.
Me: Fair enough.

The point of this entire ball of nonsense is that we finally went to the airport and met Kate! From MALAWI AFRICA! By way of Georgia. Who knew Georgia was a hub for Africa? I didn't. Georgia has more going for it than I thought it did. Also there's a song about it. More than one, actually.

Speaking of songs . . . I have a bone to pick with The Plain White T's. You know that song Hey There, Delilah? I really, really liked it like . . . three or four months ago when I first heard it. At that time, just My Favorite Radio Station Ever was playing it. I was going to buy the CD but I heard from NOT ONE but TWO people that the rest of the CD sucked huge, ginormous donkey balls. My words. Not theirs. I don't think they said anything about huge, ginormous donkey balls and that's something you'd remember, you know? YOU know. I was content to just catch the song on the radio every now or then or listen to it on myspace or youtube or whatever. But now. NOW I can't flip through the goddamn radio stations without hearing it two or three times EVERY TIME I'M IN THE CAR. And that's all well and good, because I still like the song, but if I'm in a certain mood or feeling particularly angsty and thinky? Hearing that song makes me want to rip out my heart and throw it on the ground and stomp up and down on it because THAT'S WHAT IT FEELS LIKE ANYWAY. You know, I'm pretty sure I abused Caps Lock in this post. Oh well. Anyway. Crazy, out.

Other stuff happened this weekend, too. I bought some new bras. We saw some comedians and the laughter? It was plentiful indeed. Heidi and I went to a Mexican restaurant and forgot to order margaritas. And one of our beers exploded all over our kitchen counter! EXPLODED! It was so weird. I took a picture. I'll show you later. Promise.

Friday, July 13, 2007

who knows where thoughts come from, they just appear

I was sitting in a meeting a couple of days ago and I wondered what everyone would do if I just shouted, "SHIT!" Or if I started rubbing my face and screaming like I was on fire. Or if I fell out of my chair and pretended to go to sleep on the floor. Or if I jumped on the conference table and began a rendition of "Proud Mary." And as I started thinking about these possibilities, the urge to giggle became stronger. Then I started wondering what my coworkers would think if I just started laughing for no reason.

These thoughts have been popping into my head more and more. I'll walk by my boss's closed door and think about knocking and running away. Or kicking it down, just to see if I could. It's not just at work that I have these thoughts. I think a lot about what might happen if I do or say a certain thing. Of course, normally I don't do or say any of these certain things, but every now and again, like when I wondered if Heidi and I could change Phoebe's name to "Murray," the thoughts become reality.

It's Day 3 of Operation Change Phoebe's Name to Murray and I'm pretty sure she still has no idea. I'm not sure she ever knew her name was Phoebe, to be honest.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

goonies never say die

OK, Internets, I have several (ok, two) matters of business to attend to before we get down to the pointless babbling:
  1. My friend Kate, who has been in Africa for the past two and a half years with the Peace Corps, is coming home on Saturday. This may not mean anything at all to you, Internets, but it makes me really, really happy that she's finally coming home.
  2. My company is sending stuff to Books for Soldiers this month and I have decided to be a good person and support the troops (because there was that one time I almost ran over some National Guardsmen on the way to work . . . I said ALMOST! COME ON, give me a break.) I thought some of you might be interested in supporting the troops, too, so if you want to send me books, CDs, magazines, DVDs, funny letters (?), hell, I don't know, they gave me a list of crap that is acceptable and crap that is not so how about if you want to donate some crap you send me an email and we'll get through this together, ok? Family, I know you are all big readers so if you have any books to donate, please let me know and I will come to your house and get them. That's like no work for you and ALSO you get the pleasure of seeing me! What MORE could you ask for? Anyway, again, if you're interested, shoot me an email QUICK LIKE A BUNNY because I have to turn everything in by July 31st. There's a July 31st, I think. July has 31 days, right? OK, seriously, how do I dress myself?

OK, that's all the business I had. Now onto pointless babbling. I saw Harry Potter last night. Oh yes. I did. Who wants to touch me? Anyway, rather than ramble on and on about how much I want Ron and Hermione to fall in love and have lots of babies (not now, obviously, as they are only teenagers), why don't you just read what Heather Anne wrote because I COMPLETELY agree with everything she said.

Also, I am rereading the sixth book before the seventh one comes out so I know EXACTLY where things stand. I've been reading it at lunch but I'm getting close to the end so I've decided I can't read any more at work. Because, see, the end is all sad and even though I know what happens, I'm almost positive that I will cry like a little bitch and I'm not all about crying like a little bitch at work.

I am in deep like with this t-shirt website. I don't want to have its babies (that is reserved for Threadless, of course) but I'd still hold hands with it or something. Mostly because of shirts like this one. And this one.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

planet unicorn HEYYY

Oh you guys, I have nothing to write about. NOTHING.

That's probably pretty obvious, though, what with the lists and the unicorns and whatever the hell this was and then more lists.

Help. Me. I'm. So. Boring.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

give it up for FEATHERS

If you don't think this is funny then I don't think we can be friends anymore.

Monday, July 09, 2007

And does anything I say seem relevant at all?

Here is what I did this weekend, in list format because I'm lazy:
  • I wrote approximately 8 million (OK, five) How To articles on Friday after work and still managed to make it to the gym. However, there have been entire Saturdays where I have had nothing to do but sit around in my pajamas watching Pride & Prejudice (the miniseries) for hours on end and yet I can never seem to find the time to get off the couch and go to the gym. Curious.
  • I did not shower on Saturday until 3 in the afternoon, and I only did it then because we were going to a cookout at Heidi's parents house. If it had been my own family, I may not have showered at all. Whatever. They've seen me worse. For example: that time I got drunk at the family get-together after my grandfather's funeral because I drank too much wine and ate too little food and threw up my intestines in their bathroom the next morning (because that is a healthy way to handle grief) oh and there was also that time I got my wisdom teeth removed and spent three days on the sofa looking like a chipmunk with ice packs velcroed to my head all whacked out on Vicodin.
  • While at Heidi's parents, her brother treated us to a very up-close display of fireworks. He also tried to turn me into a human sparkler but (thankfully) didn't.
  • Also, a little kid said "piece of shit!" and I laughed. What, I'm only human.
  • Heidi and I beat Nick and Steve at beer pong. Let me repeat. Heidi and I beat Nick and Steve at beer pong. You should have seen the hissy fit.
  • Some drunk girl named Cici said this about me while we were playing beer pong: "Watch out for the little one. She's wiry."
  • You should watch out for the little one. Although, I'm not sure wiry is the right word.
  • Heidi and I went to the pool on Sunday. I am sunburned in the following places: arms, shoulders, neck, chest, thighs, and eyelids. I wish I could say that was the first time I've ever gotten a sunburn on my eyelids, but it's not. I'm pretty sure I got this exact same sunburn last summer, proving that not only do I not learn from my mistakes, I like to do things that I know will not end well for me and will inevitably just end up driving me BATSHIT CRAZY but I do them anyway. Which . . . duh.

That is all. I feel very blah. I'm not sure why. I have an idea. But most of my ideas end up going nowhere so I'm not giving it too much thought.


Saturday, July 07, 2007

true story

The Conversations With My Roommate you are about to read is a bit unconventional, in that it is mostly me babbling and I think Heidi was just acting interested in the hopes that I'd eventually stop talking. HA! Like that ever happens. Anyway, we were watching Jon Stewart interview Steve Carell on The Daily Show (good times) and then this happened during the commercial break:

Me: I think Jon Stewart and Steve Carell seem like friends in real life . . . like, they probably talk on the phone for an hour every night.
Heidi: They have guy love like Turk and JD.
Me: Exactly. They love each other so much. They're all "Jon, I miss you," "I miss you, too, Steve, why did you have to go to LA?" "To follow my dreams, Jon," and then they talk about how they wish they could spoon and their hopes and greatest fears and whatever . . .
Heidi: . . .
Me: . . .
Heidi: . . .
Me: Heidi?
Heidi: Yes.
Me: Can I tell you one of my greatest fears?
Heidi: Of course.
Me: I'm afraid JK Rowling is going to kill Harry Potter in the last book.
Heidi: Oh my god.

Seriously, the only thing I fear more than Harry Potter dying is Ron Weasley dying and I JUST CAN'T HANDLE THAT YOU GUYS, I AM FAR TOO FRAGILE AND EMOTIONALLY DELICATE FOR THAT TO HAPPEN I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Friday, July 06, 2007

Show him your bra. He's afraid of bras. Can't work 'em.

Hello, lo-VER(S). Said like Phoebe. Phoebe Buffay, not Phoebe My Cat, because Phoebe My Cat doesn't say anything except "meow" and also, "I hate you, Jennie, and I am plotting your demise," but she only whispers that last one when I'm half asleep and by the time I wake up and am all "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" she just pretends to be sleeping. Whatever.

So, I should definitely be working on some articles, but I missed you too much, Internets. I can't stay away from you. However, since I have been using up my allotment of words on How To articles, I don't have many left. LUCKILY, Kat asked me to do this thing (I refuse to call it a meme because I hate that word with the fire of a thousand suns) and I'll do pretty much anything Kat asks me to do, including but not limited to meeting potentially dangerous strangers for drinks even though they might axe murder me (but didn't.)

Anyway, here are the rules:

1. Post the rules, then list eight things about yourself.
2. At the end of the post, tag and link to eight other people.
3. Leave a comment at those sites, letting them know they've been tagged, and asking them to come read the post so they know what to do.

Eight Simple Rules
  1. So these How To articles? You can either claim titles to write on or submit your own. I like to do a little of both but I've given up on trying to submit any, I don't know, USEFUL titles and instead am getting my ideas from The Office (How to Plan Office Olympics, How to Plan a Booze Cruise, How to Plan a Yankee Swap, How to Play Office Pranks) and conversations I have with my friends (How to Recognize the Signs of Sexual Frustration . . . which was actually rejected . . . go figure.) I know it seems like I am incapable of talking about anything else but that's because I AM. I have been spending every moment of my free time writing these . . . except I watched Big Brother last night. And Pirate Master. I'm only human.
  2. In college, I used to impersonate Kelly Clarkson when I was drunk. Or sober. If you ever heard "some people wait a lifetime . . . for A MOOOOOMENT LIIIIIKE THIIIIIIIIIIS," from some corner of Wittenberg's campus, the chances are very good that it was me. And that I'd been drinking. OK, or not.
  3. Sometimes when I'm bored (coughWORKcough), I sit and think about stuff that's happened to me or conversations I've had with people, only I revise everything so the outcome is more to my liking.
  4. I'm afraid of bats. WHAT, they are SCARY.
  5. Last weekend, we went to a cookout in the country and stopped to buy beer on the way. I suggested we buy Natty Light. I think everyone thought I was kidding, but I totally wasn't.
  6. I think Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper tastes like candy and I'd drink it constantly if I wasn't worried about all of my teeth rotting and falling out.
  7. Every time I get off one of the cardio machines at the gym, I think of that episode of Full House where DJ is working out hardcore because she's going to a pool party and has to wear a bathing suit so she keeps riding the exercise bike and getting off and weighing herself and finally she gets off the bike and faints and all the Tanners (and Katsopolises) come running and it's all very dramatic and now that I think about it why was the ENTIRE family (aside from Comet) at the gym together? God, that show is stupid. I'm sorry! No, it's not! I didn't mean it!
  8. I can relate practically any moment of my life to something from a TV show or movie. It's NOT because I watch that many movies or TV shows (heh), it's just that my brain can hold a very large amount of useless information. I'm just kidding. Being able to recite Zoolander along with it and then relating it to this time you were in a walk-off is not useless, it's a skill.

You know, I had to think long and hard (heh) about that list. After almost four years, I wonder if I've already told you guys everything. I think the Internets knows more about me than I do. Anyway, according to the rules I'm supposed to tag people, but my brain hurts from all the thinking, so I tag everyone. THE ENTIRE WORLD. Do my bidding, World.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?

I love when movies comes to life.

Dear Internets, I know I have been neglecting you. I'm sorry. As soon as I get home from work, I sit down in front of my computer and start writing How To Articles because I am SO. FAR. BEHIND because of Wedding Season. It's OK, though. I'm learning a lot (see: How To Cook a Turducken) and having fun with it (see: How To Be a Star Wars Fan) and I'm even using some of the profound knowledge I have worked so hard to gather over the years (see: How To Play Drinking Games). I miss you, Internets. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to research how to have a great 4th of July. I do believe there will be firecrackers involved.