So yesterday I was being Whiny McBitcherson. I'm not sure why. It could have had something to do with the whole not sleeping Sunday night. Or that it was Monday and I was at work. All I know is, I was a big, giant anger ball (actually, more of a sad ball) for the majority of the workday and I sat all forlornly at my desk, staring into space in a wah-wah-wah fashion, until about 4 o'clock when I thought to myself, "Self, you are being ridiculous. You are going to be in a good mood right . . . NOW," and then I changed Death Cab for Cutie to The Fratelli's and PRESTO CHANGO I was in a good mood. Either I am very bossy (yes) or very open to suggestion (also yes).
COMPLETELY OUT OF CONTEXT CONVERSATION WITH MY ROOMMATE:
Heidi: So you know how Name Deleted called me at like 3:45 in the morning Saturday night?
Me: Yeah.
Heidi: And he kept asking about that word?
Me: What word? Oh, they kept saying tendencies, didn't they? What they hell were they talking about? What tendencies?
Heidi: Well, I had an email today.
Me: Oh lord.
Heidi: And they weren't saying "tendencies," they were saying "decendencies."
Me: Um, what?
Heidi: Yeah, he was all, "we were trying to figure out if decendencies was a word but spell check didn't recognize it."
Me: Well . . . because it's not a word.
Heidi: Right, I was like, "do you mean heritage?"
Me: Oh my god.
Heidi: I know.
Me: How drunk were they?
Heidi: He said they weren't drunk.
Me: What?
Heidi: Yeah.
Me: WHAT?! I'm sorry, but if I ever told anyone I thought decendency was a word, I'd soooo say I was drunk because . . . um, DECENDENCY.
So this morning I asked Heidi what her decendency was and she told me this: I believe my decendency dates back to the Mayflower. My great-great-great-great-great uncle was Isaac Mc Schmidt and he sailed over here from Ireland . When he got to the states, he met the lady that would become his wife, Pearl Brown. Pearl Brown came from an affluent family in Switzerland and her father was mayor of Goatsburg. So, all in all, my decendency is Swedish-Irish-mutt.
Which, I think is just fascinating, no? I love hearing about decendencies. What is your decendency, Internets? I know it sounds like I'm being mean by making fun of this, but HELLO it's funny! Usually it's me that says stupid shit like decendencies while drunk. Once in Mexico I tried to speak Spanish to our cab driver and I think it came out something like this: Ho-LA! Me llamo JENNIE! Co-mo es-tas! Ho-LA! so give me my moment, OK?
Then we watched Tim Gunn's new show, which . . . oh my god, you guys, I wish Tim Gunn lived next door to us. Watching all those fashion makeover shows always makes me feel bad about my own wardrobe, because they're always like, "you can't wear jeans and t-shirts all the time," and "your work wardrobe is unimaginative and dull," and then I think, "oh dear lord, that girl's clothes look exactly like mine!" Because if someone came to make over my wardrobe they'd take one look at it and be like, "JENNIE. You have 14 of the same shirt all in different colors," and I'd be all, "that's a problem?" and then they'd smack me. Only Tim Gunn wouldn't smack me because he is the NICEST MAN IN ALL OF EXISTENCE. Tim Gunn could tell me I looked like a sewer rat who had gotten caught in a shitstorm of . . . shit, and I wouldn't care because then he would make me feel good about myself by GIVING ME NEW CLOTHES AND TELLING ME I'M PRETTY.
My point is someone needs to nominate me for Tim Gunn's show because I heart him and I only have like TWO ITEMS from his Top Ten Women's Clothing Essentials List. So . . . either nominate me or buy me the rest of those items.
No comments:
Post a Comment