Friday, February 29, 2008

shiny happy people

I'm not supposed to be posting today, according to the rules of this stupid Blog for 365 days crap and WHAT THE HELL was I thinking when I decided to do this? Blogging every day is hard. OK, no it's not. Blogging every day without resorting to guest bloggers and YouTube posting is hard. Also? Like I'm going to do something (or in this case, NOT do something) just because the rules said so.

Anyway, I wasn't going to post today but since it's Leap Day or whatever, I couldn't NOT post. Who knows when the next Leap Day will take place? Oh, right. But really, I just wanted a February 29th in my archives somewhere. And then I went back and looked and I already have one. Wow. You know what's NOT fun? Going four years back in your archives. Those need deleted immediately.

So not only is today Leap Day, but it's Friday and thank God because I think I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown. No, I'm not. But it sounds so delightfully dramatic, yes? No? OK. Hey, remember last year? I do. Well, last year I was supposed to go to see Spoon and then instead Spoon went on SNL and I cried. For real. Well, they're coming back. It's as if the universe realizes what a sad, empty life I have and is smiling down upon me. With spoons. See, the universe is holding spoons because of . . . Spoon? Get it? Also, the universe likes to eat cereal so he makes sure he has spoons with him all the time. Because you can't really eat cereal without spoons. You could try with a fork but you wouldn't get any of the milk and what's the point of eating cereal if you can't taste the milk? Then you'd just be eating soggy cardboard. Because, as I understand it, cereal is made out of cardboard, yes? No? OK.

I'm hoping this weekend will make up for the past week of "holy shit my life sucks," and how could it not? I mean, tonight there will be Wii and pizza and booze and tomorrow there will be birthday cake and country living and booze and WOW is it 5 yet? No? OK.

Oh, right, here is all the stuff I forgot to tell you about this week:

On Monday, Heather Anne created her very own version of Hell. On Tuesday, Abigail hated on a very specific portion of the English language. On Wednesday, Kat frustrated the Internets with her NO EXPLANATIONS. And yesterday, I posted a bunch of YouTube links cause I'm lazy like that. Today? You get to tell us the 5 Worst Somethings in the whole universe. Don't say spoons or the universe will get pissed and probably steal your car. And probably set it on fire. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

also, I'm tired of scraping ice off my windshield every damn morning

If this week was a word, it'd be "Frustration" and if it was a drink, it'd be "An Entire Bottle of Whiskey STAT" and if it had a motto, it'd be, "can I just go home and go to bed, please?"


Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Guest Blog! (aka, Jennie was lazy and begged other people to write for her)

by: Abigail! and Heather! Anne!

Let us ask you something, Internets: do you know anyone except for Jennie! who blogs for you every single day? No. You do not. And do you know why you do not? Because no one is as awesome as Jennie!, that's why. Abigail! and Heather! Anne! (of The Collective) are blogging for her today because: a) She deserves a break. b) Neither Abigail! nor Heather! Anne! are writing on their own blogs anymore. c) They have some important research to share with you. See: charts.

Chart 1: Which Animals on the Internets are more important than all babies?

Hypothesis: Nearly all animals except for bears are more important than all babies.

Scientific result: Correct. Animals FTW!

Chart 2: What are the "reasons" to watch American Idol?

Hypothesis: There are none.

Scientific result: Incorrect. There apparently are reasons to watch American Idol.

Conclusion: Ryan Seacrest will eat your unimportant babies.

Please stay tuned for more research. Next time, Abigail! and Heather! Anne! will quantitatively predict which office supplies are most fulfilling, and easiest to steal.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Dear Internets,

My job is trying to kill me and I didn't sleep last night because I'm really stupid and drank 87 gallons of Coke before I tried to go to bed. True story.

Also, I had chocolate chip cookies for breakfast this morning.

That is all.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Sunday, February 24, 2008

that kind of girl

Today marked the beginning of wedding season, as far as I'm concerned, because I went to a bridal shower. And, as everyone knows, the world revolves around ME, so therefore . . . wedding season. End of discussion.

As I was getting ready, I kept thinking, "Jennie, what are you doing? It's noon on Sunday and you've . . . you've showered. And . . . you're putting on mascara. You don't wear mascara on Sundays." True story. I barely make it out of bed on some Sundays and I certainly don't make a special point to put on makeup if all I'm going to be doing is roaming from my bedroom to the living room all day long.

And yet, Nancy is one of my best friends and so there are a lot of things I would do for her, like give her a kidney or break her out of a French prison or, you know, shower and slap on some mascara on a Sunday. Also, I'm a bridesmaid so it's sort of expected that I attend these things. Apparently. I've actually never been a bridesmaid before and this is like the best bridesmaid duty ever because A) our dresses are black, B) we get to pick out our own dresses, and C) it's a destination wedding that no one is attending except the happy couple and her parents AND SO bridesmaid duty includes only bridal shower, bachelorette party and reception, which means I don't have to walk down any aisles and potentially fall down on my face in front of God and Nancy's family. Thank you, Nancy.

I find bridal showers exhausting. The people are always nice, but I'm not good at small talk. Or being on my best behavior, for that matter. This was a good bridal shower, though, on account of of all the wine and ALSO we didn't have to play any of those stupid bridal shower games. I'm not kidding, you guys, I'd rather set myself on fire than make a wedding dress out of toilet paper or PLAY BRIDAL SHOWER GIFT BINGO OH MY GOD JUST KILL ME NOW.

Ahem. But we didn't have to do any of that. We drank wine and ate finger sandwiches and did our bridemaidly duties (oh my god, I keep saying duty hahahahahaha) and as we drove away, I said, "I AM SO HUNGRY." You know, because we'd only eaten finger sandwiches all day and I don't know if you know this, but I'm not really a finger sandwich type of girl. I like my sandwiches to be regular sized and chock full of meat (heh) with a side of potato chips and maybe a pickle. And so, after spending a civilized afternoon drinking wine out of fancy glasses and eating tiny food off of fancy plates, we went to grab steak, potatoes, and beer for dinner at a place where you can throw peanut shells on the floor which, let's face it, is much more my style.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Everyone in your wagon has died. Many wagons fail to make it all the way to Oregon.

Holy crapbag, you guys, I need a break. Stupid articles! I hate you! It's all your fault that I'm stuck writing you instead of sitting on the sofa in my pajamas watching all those episodes of Futurama that TiVo recorded!

Speaking of Futurama, one of the episodes TiVo recorded is that one where Fry finds his fossilized dog and he's going to clone him and Bender is jealous and then he finds out that his dog lived for 15 years and probably had a good life after Fry was frozen and then they flash back to the dog searching and searching for Fry and then WAITING FOR FRY OUTSIDE THE PIZZA PARLOR WHERE FRY WORKED FOREVER AND EVER BECAUSE FRY NEVER CAME BACK. And then I cry and cry. I'm about to cry just thinking about it. Damn you, show!

Last night, Heidi and I watched part of 300 and after a while, I was all, "this is sort of gay," and Heidi was like, "but this all happened before gay was invented," and I was all, "nuh-uh, what about Ancient Greeks, they had the penis-in-butt-sex all the time," and Heidi just stared at me and so then I was like, "it's true, they did it for warmth and camaraderie," and then I realized I had no idea where I had gotten this information and was probably actually making it up. But it turns out I wasn't. Thank you, Wackopedia.

Speaking of penises (sure?), I watched this documentary on the Discovery Channel or something that was all about sex and the chemistry of love or something and it explained how men's penises are bigger now than they ever have been. Because, see, apparently big penises are more desirable than little ones (sorry to those with tiny peepees) and women are drawn to big penises on the most basic level and so they seek OUT the big penises. Therefore, men with big penises have more sex and more of a chance to procreate, leading to the ginormous schlong gene (scientific term) to be passed on to the son. Which creates more big penises for women to procreate with. I was telling Heidi about it and we decided we were glad to be living in such splendid times and she said that it would have sucked to be a pioneer woman because everyone knows that the only thing to do on the Oregon Trail besides hunt, cross rivers, and come down with Typhoid fever is have sex and I believe the phrase, "if the wagon's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'," might have been shouted but I'm not going to tell you who shouted it because I think you can probably guess.

Friday, February 22, 2008

and then I went back to my desk and made sure my post-its were organized by color and size

I'm in the process of switching jobs with someone at work. I'm taking over all of her duties (heh, duty) and she's taking over mine. I'm still in the process of getting organized, which is fine because I really like organizing things because I'm a tool. Yesterday, I finished using all these employee files, so I gave them to another co-worker because she needed to do some shit with them. That is the technical term.

Me: Here are those files.
Her: Great, thanks.
Me: No problem.
Her: Oh my god, did you put these in alphabetical order?
Me: Yes, why?
Her: No one else ever gives these to me in alphabetical order.
Me: Well, Coworker. Let me tell you something. I am incredibly anal retentive.
Her: Ha, well, you don't have to do that.
Me: You know what? I really can't help myself.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

turn around, bright eyes

Last night around 9, I was just sitting and thinking that I was sure there was something I was supposed to be doing. That's when Heather (through text messaging medium) was all, "This eclipse is so cool!" and that's when I was all, "OH. MY. GOD. I'M. MISSING. IT."

And I jumped up and put on my galoshes (shut up, they were the closest) and grabbed my peacoat and ran outside even though I was wearing Strawberry Shortcake pajama pants because the moon was playing hide and seek and OH MY GOD I WAS MISSING IT.

And then I looked all around and found the moon and it looked like someone had taken a giant bite out of it and I jumped up and down and pointed and no one else was outside looking and OH MY GOD THEY'RE MISSING IT.

So I ran back inside and called my parents and my sister answered and I said, "I need to talk to mom and dad," and she was all, "about what?" and I said, "THE MOON" and then I heard her yell, "Jennie needs to talk to you," and my mom was all like, "about what?" and my sister was like, "the moon," and my mom finally picked up and I shouted, "DID YOU SEE THE MOON?" and she said, "Dad said it's not in full effect til 10 or 10:30," and I was like, "but you can see it now!" and she was like, "I'll look at 10 when I let the dog out," and I said, "BUT YOU CAN SEE IT NOW!" and she very calmly asked if that's all I'd called for thank you and goodnight and OH MY GOD THEY'RE MISSING IT.

It reminded me of that time Heidi, Steve and I went to a bar or something and on the way home I remembered that there was a meteor shower that night, only it turned out it was the night before or something and everyone was sad that OH MY GOD THEY MISSED IT.


Today on The Collective, it's the Chronic(what?)cles of Narnia.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

On the bed, on the floor, on a towel by the door, in the tub, in the car, up against the mini-bar

This morning, the DJ on my favorite radio station in the history of radio stations was plugging something called PrinceFest, which is taking place next month and consists of local bands covering nothing but Prince songs. As soon as I got to work, I checked it out online and emailed Heidi because WE HAVE TO GO TO THIS. HELLO. How awesome and hilarious is this going to be? The truth is, I can't even tell you BECAUSE I HAVEN'T BEEN YET.

Anyway. What else. Hmm. Last night at volunteering, I got to play Candy Land. And then we played in this mini sandbox. It was amazing. The weird thing about volunteering is, I'm usually in a horrible mood when I get there (as I've just come from work), but by the time I leave I'm in such a good mood you'd think I just won the lottery and married Jake Gyllenhaal or something. You wouldn't think that after talking about death and grieving for an hour and a half would lead to a good mood, but YOU'D BE WRONG.

Also, I forgot to link to all this stuff. Because I'm easily distracted. So, here's the deal. This week on The Collective, we're listing the 5 Best Somethings. On Monday, Heather Anne told us about the 5 Best TV Couples on . . . TV. In it, she compares Jim Halpert to Mr. Darcy and then my brain stopped working. And Abigail, well, she gave everyone 5 excuses to drink. I don't know how to thank her. But if you read it, you'll see that you should be drinking right now. Today, Kat loves on bugs. Some of them I'm OK with, like fireflies, but then she started talking about zombie-making wasps and I might have passed out a little. I'd link to my post, but it doesn't go up until tomorrow. Also, I haven't written it. Also, I don't even know what I'm writing about. Clearly my procrastination is in FULL EFFECT.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

And the language these guys use. Rough! One of the guys told me to take my head out of my bottom and get back to work.

Today was a grand day. Just GRAND, I tell you. Actually, it really wasn't that bad, it's just that I think the worst feeling in the whole entire world is that feeling when you wake up the morning after a three day weekend and realize you have to go to work. Oh, and also you didn't sleep at all the night before because your body and brain refused to calm down and shut up (respectively) enough for you to actually, I don't know, relax and sleep for at least twenty minutes.

Before you start talking about AIDS babies or homeless people or whatever, I KNOW there are worse things in life than having to go back to work after a three day weekend. Like, for instance, not even HAVING a three day weekend. I know I'm being dramatic. But you can just shut up because MY LIFE IS HARD, OK?

I had to go to the hooha doctor today. Apparently if they even suspect that you may at one time in the future EVEN POSSIBLY develop hooha cancer, they want to see you every three months. It's nice that they care so much. Really. You wanna know what the sweetest words ever to be uttered at the gyno's office are? "You can disrobe now, but just on the bottom." Score! I got to leave my shirt on! I know those words don't sound that great, but when it's 15 degrees outside and 30 degrees in the exam room, you're happy that you get to leave whatever clothes you can on.

So there I was, sitting pantsless in the exam room with just a thin, paper blanket to cover my bare, goosebumbly legs. And I didn't want to get up and get a magazine from the counter, because every time I stood up, my bare ass was hanging out in the COLD COLD AIR and that? Was as unpleasant as it sounds. Perhaps moreso if you were standing behind me.

I sat there forever. At least 25 minutes. Maybe even 26. You don't know, you weren't there. Anyway, I was so bored and there was a map of the United States that was color coded to show you where the fattest states are. After I realized that I could barely recognize any of the states and am INCREDIBLY bad at geography, I tried to remember the 50 Nifty United States song. I remembered most of it, including listing all the states in alphabetical order, but I always get mixed up right after Ohio. Cause you're all, "Ohiiiiiiiiiii-ooooooo," which feels like the climax, but it's not. It sort of looks like a climax typed like that, BUT IT'S NOT, I said. Geez, calm down.

Where was I? Who knows? I sure don't. Anyway, after I sang the song a few times, I remembered that Heidi said the last time SHE went to the doctor, there was a Dr. Seuss book in the exam room. So I stood up, still humming the state song, and rummaged around the magazines with one hand while I held the paper blanket skirt shut behind me with my other hand. You know, in case the doctor walked in at that moment, I really didn't want to moon the hallway and its occupants. Although, it would serve them right. That room was ice cold AND devoid of Dr. Seuss books.

The doctor finally came in and seemed really frazzled. She said she was running late and I was all, "no shit, I realized that after you left me here half naked for half an hour." And then she totally rushed through the exam. No drinks, no dinner, NO JOKE. She was just in and out. So to speak.

Monday, February 18, 2008

You'll be missing me when you have that big, white, wrinkly body on top of you. With his loose skin and old balls . . . GROSS.

I just realized I haven't written anything here in a while. And by "in a while" I mean like . . . two days. But it felt like a long time. And anyway, it's not like I've been doing anything all that exciting. This is what I did this weekend: wrote articles, played Scrabble, wrote articles, went running, wrote articles, wrote articles, wrote articles. Bleh. I wish someone would just give me a giant wad of money already so I could stop working.

Heidi just got back from vacation last night, so the only human interaction I had all weekend was through the internet (which I'm not sure counts haha omg you guys jk!) and Friday night, when I went over to my grandmother's condo to help the family pack up some stuff to take to her in the assisted living place she's staying at for a couple of months (fingers crossed). That was the longest sentence I've ever written. Probably not, but whatever. Stay with me.

So yeah, I went over there Friday after work. My aunts and uncles were there and my parents, of course, and we ate pizza and I drank my dad's whiskey (because CLEARLY you cannot pack without whiskey) and then everyone else did stuff while I flitted from place to place saying stupid things. I did pack a couple of boxes, but I kept getting distracted by things I was finding. Like, all these old pictures of my dad and his brother and sisters. I wish I'd kept some so I could show the Internets because WOW. There's this one of my parents going to prom or whatever and my dad's suit matches my mom's dress, which sounds OK but my mom's dress was ROBIN'S EGG BLUE. No joke. Also, apparently my mom circa 1977 looks just like me circa now. Only I don't have a robin's egg blue dress. Because I don't wear dresses. Except to weddings. But I've never worn a robin's egg blue dress to a wedding. OH MY GOD THAT'S A LIE. I just remembered that I did once. WOW, good story, Jennie, tell it again.

Anyway, there was a portion of the evening where my dad VERY EXUBERANTLY celebrated That's What She Said Day and I suppose I could have been annoyed only I was laughing too hard and also, it's my own fault for telling him. And it didn't help that right at that time my mom found this incredibly old bowl of nuts and kept saying things like, "wow, these nuts are wrinkly," and "I've never seen nuts this old before." Seriously, you guys, I thought I was going to pass out from all the laughing and the inappropriateness of my mother going on and on about old, wrinkly nuts.

Then I got the bright idea to crack open one of the nuts. Because, I don't know, I was bored and when I'm bored I do ridiculously stupid things like stack shot glasses in a tower or crack open 10 year old nuts. I'll tell you what, though, that nut was SO HARD. I've never held a nut that hard in my hands before. So I cracked it open and it pretty much disintegrated into a pile of dust right there on the table. I looked over at my mom, waiting for the "oh, Jennie," look but then I saw them! Tiny bugs crawling around in the nut dust! DID YOU HEAR ME, INTERNETS? THERE WERE NUT BUGS IN THE NUTS! That's when we decided to just throw the rest of the nuts away and for the rest of the night I thought bugs were crawling ALL OVER ME.

Moral of the story: stay away from old, wrinkly nuts. TRUST ME.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

time is so not on my side

I was going to write a real post today, but today is almost over and anyway, I just watched this and now I'm in a Mr. Darcy coma.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

I found you, Ms New Booty

Check out my new* boot cup, fools**:

boot cup

*only, it's not new, it's probably at least 100 years old***
**I don't know
***that may be a slight exaggeration

Friday, February 15, 2008

thanks for coming

Did you guys know that besides today just being Friday, it's also International That's What She Said Day? So tell everyone, because I want it to be really big. Not too big, though, because if it's too big, it's hard to handle. I tried to think of an appropriate way to celebrate this very special day, but it was too hard. I mean, YOU try handling something that huge. No, really. Just tell me how to handle it. I'll do anything. This day deserves a celebration and I want to make sure it's long enough. I know what you're thinking. Balloons! Big ones. Big and bouncy, that's how I like 'em. I remember this one time, I was blowing up balloons for a party and I just blew and blew and it took forever. And this other time, I got all the balloons blown up and someone came in with a stick and started popping them all! And then he started poking ME with his stick! And I was all, "stop poking me with that or I'll break it in half!" But he didn't, so I just took his stick in my hands and gave it everything I had! He won't be using that stick to pop anything ever again, that's for sure.

Alright, that's enough. No sense beating this anymore. I'm spent.

OK, one more time, but let's make it quick:

Thursday, February 14, 2008

I could write a song, and using real words, not "odelay."

You guys know how I'm not smart, right? I mean, you really should know that if you've been reading this blog for even just a couple days. If you haven't realized by now that I'm not smart, well, I'm sorry to say that you might be just as dumb as I am.

I do a lot of stupid things. I drink and then talk to people or dial my cell phone or attempt to not fall down. I eat things I know will make me feel so, so sick. I stay up too late when I know I have to get up early the next morning. This morning I burnt my hand with my blowdryer and once I poked myself in the eye with my toothbrush.

And last night, when a dear friend desperately needed an answer to a very important question (I mean, five bucks was riding on it), I thought, "what would Abigail do?" And you know what? Abigail would head straight to Wackopedia. And so I typed Wackopedia into the search field and when Google was all, "did you mean Wikipedia*?" I was all, "no, you fool, take me to Wackopedia toot sweet**!" but you guys? Wackopedia*** is not what it's called. Not yet anyway.

*note: Google did not ask that. What's up, Google? You're slacking.
**whenever I see "wiktionary," I think of that episode of Futurama where Bender couldn't move his body and Beck's Head in a Jar was all like, "Check the Becktionary!" Wow, good story.
***I blame Heather! Anne! for this


Today on The Collective, I offer to make sweet love to the Internets.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

These are my awards, Mother. From Army. The seal is for marksmanship, and the gorilla is for sand racing.

Last night, while I was playing Scrabble writing articles, my phone rang! I know! People call me! And sometimes I answer! Anyway, it was Heidi, so I answered, even though I was all, "WTF is she doing calling me from vacation? Shouldn't she be knee deep in cabana boys right now? Do they have cabana boys in Vegas? What's a cabana anyway?" and then I noticed that it was almost 9.

I answered all, "don't worry, I'm recording Big Brother." No hello or anything because Heidi and I have progressed past hellos. They are unnecessary. Superfluous, if you will, sort of like this sentence. After we'd discussed the importance of recording Big Brother, she asked how the weather was here and I tried to put a positive spin on it, but how do you put a positive spin on, "it's icy and snowy and pissing tiny ice cubes?" You don't. I hope she'll forgive me for not asking how the weather was in Vegas, but I thought if I heard her talking about the sun and the warmth I'd crush her face through the phone with the sheer force of my jealousy. And I don't want to crush her face because she needs it, for talking and picking up men and stuff. Finally, I let her go because she had to rest so she could be energized for all the drinking and partying she had scheduled later and now I bring you the shortest Conversation With My Roommate EVER:

Me: OK, bye. Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Heidi: Oooh, so it's wide open, then.
Me: Exactly.


Today on The Collective, Kat says "seamen." Hee.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

I've got the thingie. Half in English, half in squibbly.

Oh my god, you guys (heh), I'm super tired today. This might have something to do with not having slept well in, oh yeah, my ENTIRE LIFE, but ALSO some people were very bad influences on me last night and I stayed up way too late.

And when I tell you what I stayed up late doing, you are going to think, "oh my god, Jennie is an even bigger dork than I suspected AND I DIDN'T THINK THAT WAS POSSIBLE." Because, you see, I stayed up late playing Scrabble.

Oh, shut up. I mean, as if Facebook wasn't addicting enough, now you can play SCRABBLE? What are they doing to me? Last night, I was going to go to bed after Kat! and Mysterygirl! finished kicking my ass in TWO separate games, but then another game started and I was all, "who needs sleep?" Well, it turns out, I do. Actually, you know what? That's a lie. A big one. I'm not any sleepier today than I normally am, so screw trying to go to bed at a reasonable hour. From now on I'm just going to stay up until I'm so exhausted I just fall over and go to sleep wherever I happen to be standing at the moment. And if I land on Phoebe, well, that just means she needs to work on her speed and agility.

Aaaaanyway, I was late to work this morning, but I'm placing the blame squarely on snow's shoulders. Which is FOOLHARDY because what if snow's shoulders melt? WHAT THEN? So yeah, it snowed like two inches and then started sleeting, which really hurts when it hits your bare skin. It's sort of like God is throwing tiny ice pebbles at your face. Which . . . rude. As I was getting ready, I took the time to sit on my bed and watch the school and business closings scroll along the TV, allowing myself to hope that I might see my company's name on the list. I don't know what I was thinking, my company didn't even close the building last February when there was NO HEAT. Luckily, I didn't start until March so I missed February's Frostbite Friday. But whatever, I still maintain that if it's too dangerous for all the children in the area to go to school, it's too dangerous for me to drive to work. TRUE STORY.

So, back to Scrabble. I CAN'T HELP IT I'M ADDICTED. I'm wondering what the proper etiquette is for when the game is finished. Is there a set amount of time you should wait before you challenge that same person to a new game? Because I want to challenge them immediately. Like, the second the game is over. Kat and I thought that might be kind of slutty, but I'm OK with that.


Today on The Collective, Abigail makes me want a burrito real bad.

Monday, February 11, 2008

before anyone asks, NO, I have not been smoking anything

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Beatrice. Beatrice was British (naturally) and hated her name, except for when her father called her "Sweet Bea."

Beatrice wished she had a lovely, normal name, like her new pet Bill. Bill was a time traveling dinosaur and lived under her bed. Obviously, he was not a fully grown dinosaur. Not yet anyway. Beatrice assumed that a fully grown brontosaurus would eventually present some problems, especially since her parents didn't yet know about Bill, but for now he was perfectly happy squeezing his bulky body under her bed.

Beatrice went to the kitchen and made wheat toast with blackberry jam for herself and white toast with butter and honey for Bill. She carried her tray of toast and juice (orange for her, grape for Bill) to her room, tiptoeing past her slumbering parents' room. They'd thrown a loud party last night and sometimes her mother got the flu after parties like that, so Beatrice wanted to be extra quiet.

"Morning, Bill!" she said when she got to her room. He was stretched out on her bed so she shut her bedroom door.

"Morning, Princess Fiona," Bill said.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I want to be Princess Fiona today," said Beatrice. "After all, I was Princess Fiona all day yesterday."

"Alright, then, who shall it be today?" Bill asked.

"I think . . . Amelia."


"No, silly, EARHART," she said.

"Oh, of course." Bill yawned and rolled off of the bed to do his morning jumping jacks. Beatrice winced every time he landed and the whole house shook.

"Bill, I wish you'd do your jumping jacks outside," Beatrice said.

"I know, Amelia, but it's raining again." Bill wasn't used to England's cold, rainy weather, since he was originally from Utah. Of course, it wasn't called Utah back then.

"Bill, where should we go today?" Beatrice asked.

"It's up to you. I've been everywhere."

"Well," Beatrice pondered. "We could go back to the African safari."

"We could. Although, last time we were almost eaten by a pack of lions," Bill said. He stretched and yawned.

"I know, it was so exciting!"

"Can we go somewhere we're not on the menu, please?"

"OK," Beatrice sighed. "How about London?"

"Darling, we're in London."

"I KNOOOOW we're in London, I meant FUTURE London," Beatrice said and rolled her eyes.


"Um . . . 2067?"

"OK, let's go," Bill said and put on his favorite vest. It was green and fuzzy and had huge purple buttons.

"Brilliant! Just a second, though, I need my time traveling goggles."

"You realize those are really swimming goggles, don't you?" he asked.

"Not when I'm wearing them to TIME TRAVEL, they're not."

"Of course, how silly of me."

To be continued. Maybe. If I don't forget about it.


Today on The Collective, Heather gets the shit kicked out of her by love.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

and then we all ate ice cream

I have a lot of trouble concentrating on anything on Sundays, especially in the afternoon and evening, because I know that tomorrow I have to go back to work and why am I wasting the few precious, precious free hours I have left writing articles such as, "How to Wax the Chest?" I am fairly certain that is knowledge I will never, ever need and I feel as if I'd rather not divulge the information I've gathered to the public at large, for fear that all men will start WAXING THEIR CHESTS ALL THE TIME.

Note to men: Do not wax your chests, please.

I'm finding it really difficult to write these articles today because . . . I just don't want to. Heidi's in the other room watching How I Met Your Mother and there's so much Internet to read and also I have become hopelessly addicted to Scrabulous. I'm not any good, of course, mostly because my method of playing is, "hmm, I think I've heard this word before," and then I just throw a bunch of letters together, hit Play Word, and hope it sticks.

In other news, last night Heidi and I watched this episode of True Life on MTV that has to be at least seven years old, but the people on it were all having plastic surgery of some sort. The guy was having calf implants. CALF IMPLANTS. I just . . . there are no words to describe how absolutely stupid that is. What was hilarious, though, was that this guy shaves his entire body AND wears body glitter when he goes out. Yeah, I said body glitter. I'm glad it was on, though, because we had just finished the worst movie ever, after stupidly taking advice from some guy standing behind us at Kroger while we were picking movies out of the movie machine. He was all, "The Ultimate Gift is good. Don't get Zodiac, it's really long." I'm not sure what made us listen to him, especially since he was wearing Bengals pajama pants and also, since when do I take movie-related advice PERIOD, let alone movie-related advice about a JAKE GYLLENHAAL MOVIE? Anyway, if I ever see that guy again, I'm kicking him square in the nut because The Ultimate Gift sucked. It was worse than everything in the Nicholas Sparks oeuvre PUT TOGETHER. And now I would please like you to give me credit* for sitting through the entire thing. Thank you in advance.

*will take booze instead

Saturday, February 09, 2008

I don't understand the question, and I won't respond to it

I have absolutely nothing to do this weekend, and so of course I have written ZERO articles. My plan was to write as many as possible and it looks like as many as possible might turn out to be, oh, one or two. But Heidi is ditching me for California next week so I'll have many, many hours to fill and I'm sure eventually I'll run out of Internet and be forced to do some actual work. Wah wah waaaaaah.

Last night, Heidi and I took (and failed) the Chipotle challenge and then came home and watched Project Runway and decided we're going to vote Tim Gunn for president. Later, Bridget Jones came on and I told Heidi that I could probably recite the entire movie along with it because I've seen it no fewer than 100 million times. I realized that I wasn't lying as we watched the movie and I told Heidi where all the dubbed over curse words should be. Question. Why can they say "sod off," but they changed, "wiping Saddam Hussein's ass" to "washing Saddam Hussein's cars?" WTF, TV?

Whatever, I mean, that pretty much shot all of last night and then this morning, by the time I drank half a pot of coffee, read some Fitzgerald, and took a shower, it was time to go visit my grandmother and THEN I had to go mooch chili off of my parents and THEN I had to go to Kroger.

You know, when I was little, I remember going to the grocery with my mom, sitting in the cart, and asking her to buy me every piece of crap toy we'd come across. You know the ones I'm talking about? Those shitty plastic toys that just spring up in the cereal or the potato chip aisles? I don't know why I wanted them. Inevitably, it'd break or my sister would throw it out the window on the way home (true story), but I WANTED THEM ANYWAY. I hardly ever got them, though, because my mom realized they'd either, um, break or end up on the side of the road somewhere.

Which is why I'm so happy to now be an adult with my very own money, so that when I run by the grocery to pick up cat food, I can buy my own piece of shit toys:

go fish

Friday, February 08, 2008

Hummus, I got the hummus.

You know how sometimes they (who is they?) say that a really smart person doesn't have any common sense? Well, if you changed "really smart person" to "someone of average intelligence," then that could totally apply to me.

For instance! Feast your eyes on my stupidity! Earlier this week, I caught the plague from someone. Either Heidi or one of the 800 people at work who were walking around sneezing and coughing on everything and everyone. I seriously considered wearing a surgical mask to work and the only reason I didn't was because I didn't have one. I began to miss working at the orthodontist's office, where I could regularly wipe my phone and computer and self down with antibacterial wipes. Or at the very least, walk around wearing latex gloves. But I can't do that anymore, because there IS no latex in my new office building. Unless you count the condom dispenser in the bathroom, but it's not like I can walk around with condoms on my hands. I kid, I kid. I'd never put condoms on my hands. Zing! Yeah, I don't know.

Anyway, so I started to feel not good Tuesday night. So not good that I ended up staying home from work on Wednesday, where I sat around in my pajamas and watched half a season of Arrested Development and slept for, oh, about 18 hours. True story. No, it's not. I only slept 17 hours. I did watch half a season of Arrested Development, though. Season one. The middle half. True story. Oh my god, Jennie, stop it.

I went back to work yesterday (booooo!), but I still felt like poo for the majority of the day. Yet, FOR SOME REASON, when I got home from work I was all, "I should go running." What? No. But in my head, I kept telling myself not to be a pussy, that I didn't feel THAT bad, and GODDAMN IT GET YOUR RUNNING SHOES ON AND GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE.

So I went running and it wasn't terrible, other that it was really fucking cold outside and by the end I couldn't really feel my ears. Oh, and also my chest hurt for the rest of the night but it feels alright now. I mean, sure, I'm a little more ADD than usual (I put deodorant on no fewer than three times this morning because I couldn't remember if I'd done it or not) and I'm sort of (really) sleepy, but it's Friday and I'm ADD and sleepy on Fridays ANYWAY. I guess the moral of the story is that I'm stupid and have no common sense but it's OK because it hasn't killed me.



Today on The Collective, who would you do?

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

don't steal my idea or I'll cut you

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Jennie. Jennie took a writing class in high school and the teacher was all, "write a children's book," and Jennie was like, "I can do this, I work at a library and spend the majority of my time there reading picture books," and then the teacher was like, "also, illustrate it," and Jennie was all, "fuck!" and then, "I will make the pictures out of construction paper!" And then a bunch of years passed and Abigail told Jennie to find this book. So Jennie found this book. (Abigail is bossy, but she gets results.)

I have provided the words under each picture in case you can't make them out. I'd hate for you to miss them. My comments are at the very end.

page 1
A long time ago, before humans were in charge, colors ruled the earth. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet. They were all very powerful, but each Color thought he was more powerful than the others were.

page 2
"I am the best," said Blue. "I am the ocean and the sky. I am the calm that is carried on the gentle breeze. That is why I am the best."

page 3
"How boring!" Red cried. "I am Christmas and the smell of cinnamon. I am welcome anger that comes like a quick storm."

page 4
"That's nothing," Violet said. "I am the slurpy taste of grape juice on a hot day. I am the best, because I am the sharing that comes after the anger."

page 5
"You are all wrong," Indigo chimed in. "I am the best. I am the first flower that appears when the winter snow melts. I am clarity that spreads after a season of confusion."

page 6
"Well, I am spring!" shouted Green. "I am a frog that takes shape out of a floating lily pad and the miles upon miles of grass covered fields. So I am the best."

page 7
"I am definitely better than all of you," Orange said. "I am the sunrise and a Halloween pumpkin. I am autumn, so I am the best."

page 9
"Ha!" Yellow cried. "I am the sun and the moon and the stars. I am happiness. None of you can beat that! I am the greatest."

page 10
"Excuse me, please," a gentle voice said from the sky. "I am trying to sleep. Please try to be a little quieter."

"Why should we?" Red shouted. "We are Colors! We don't HAVE to be quiet! Who do you think you are, anyway?"

page 10
"Well," the voice began. "I am Cloud. I have always been here and will always be here. You may think you are the greatest, just because you are a Color, but I am the only one who can bring all of you together."

page 11
With that said, Cloud turned black and fierce. White lightning made up her hair and she began to weep. Her tears covered the earth until everything sparkled.

page 12
Cloud finished crying and became white again. The Colors shot out of her middle, all working together to create a rainbow. Puddles of her tears on the ground turned red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet.


Wow. Just . . . wow. I'm pretty sure, at the time, I thought I was being really deep, which . . . no. The Colors are all assholes and why is the Cloud all up in their business? Also, Indigo is full of shit. That sure looks like pink to me. But what I think happened is THEY DON'T MAKE INDIGO CONSTRUCTION PAPER AND I DIDN'T KNOW THAT UNTIL AFTER I WROTE THE STORY AND CUT OUT HALF OF THE PICTURES AND BY THEN IT WAS TOO LATE BLAAAAAAARGH.

And no one threw a knife at anyone? LAME.


Today on The Collective, Kat outs herself as a bit of a stalker.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

maybe I'm unbreakable, just like Bruce Willis

Because I (wanna) quit the gym (!), I decided I need to start running again. Outside. In the elements. Luckily, the weather this week is supposed to be freakishly warm. Well, not freakishly warm as in it's going to be 800,000 degrees because CLEARLY if it was that hot, I wouldn't be sitting here typing. I might be incredibly awesome, but I'm not immortal. That I know of. I've never really tested it, other than consistently trying to drink all the alcohol in a three mile radius. I guess I COULD be immortal. I mean, I'm still here despite all the times I've fallen over and hit my head on stuff. Oh my god, you guys, what if I AM immortal? That would be amazing. Except that I'm totally wasting it. Oh well.

I almost talked myself out of going running because it looked like it might rain. Other excuses I have used to not go running: it's too cold, it's too hot, it's too sunny, it's too windy, my toe kind of hurts, I don't feel like putting on a sports bra, I can't find my shoes, it's too dark and I don't want to get assraped, there's an America's Next Top Model marathon on TV and Tyra isn't going to watch herself. Except she totally would because she's an attention whore. Anyway, irrelevant. What IS relevant is that it wasn't raining when I got home from work. It was somewhat cloudy and MSN told me that it was supposed to rain. I know because it had a little picture of a cloud with rain drops coming out. That either means rain or the cloud is crying and why would the cloud be crying? Maybe because he embarrassed himself in front of his cloud friends, I guess. In which case, he should stop crying because they're going to make fun of him even MORE if he keeps up the pussy baby whining. Did I ever tell you guys about the children's book I wrote in high school? WELL. We had to write and illustrate a children's book and so I wrote this story about how all the colors in the world were arguing with each other. Red was all, "I'm the best!" and then green was like, "uh-uh, untrue!" and yellow was all, "try having sunlight without ME, suckers!" and then this cloud came out and was like, "you kids be quiet, I'm trying to sleep!" and then she got angry and started shooting lightning and pissing rain on everything. THEN all the colors made a rainbow. Barf. I'm pretty sure I have this "book" at the apartment somewhere. That would be phenomenal. I think it might be even worse than The Evil Summer. Oh wait, that would be impossible.


Today on The Collective, Abigail loves a LOT of people.

Monday, February 04, 2008

I wanna quit the gym!

And so I'm going to. It was a fun experiment. Well, not fun, really, but interesting. OK, not even really interesting. Heidi and I joined the gym last year because we got a really good deal, but I was in better shape when we were training for the Turkey Trot and just going running a couple times a week (outside in the fresh air, not in the gym that sometimes smells like stinky feet and BO and bean farts) than I was when I was going the gym almost every day. Also, the Cardio Cinema seemed like such an amazing concept when we first joined, but most of the time they're showing a movie I hate. Or a movie that makes me want to kill myself. Or a Dane Cook movie, which I hate AND makes me want to kill myself. I realize that part of this is my own fault, because I tend to not like a lot of movies but WHY do they insist on showing Rush Hour 3? Why? And it pisses me off that sometimes they'll play the same movie a few days in a row. This is sort of OK if it's a good movie (see: Tommy Boy) but I find it unnecessary and annoying when it's a shitty movie (see: A Cinderella Story.)

I like the classes they offer, but I don't like GOING to classes. I don't like scheduling workout time. I like to work out when I feel like it (or when I finally guilt myself into doing it) but for some reason the gym refuses to employ a class method where I can just call ahead and tell them to get a class ready because I'm going to be there in five minutes. I don't know why they won't do this for me. They are so unreasonable and I guess they don't understand that I don't like being on a schedule. It's bad enough that I'm told when to be at work and when I can leave blah blah blah YOU GET ONE HOUR FOR LUNCH, so I don't want the gym telling me my business, too.

ALSO (and this is the big one, which is why it's all caps locky), half of the machines in that place are pieces of shit. I don't want to ride on an elliptical that shakes around and makes horrible noises on every rotation because I'm afraid it's going to fall apart and I'll either die or it'll be really embarrassing. I'm not sure which is worse.


Today on The Collective, Heather totally cheats on her freebie list.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

this is so boring, don't even bother reading it

Last night, my band and I went on a world tour. The band's name is Donkey? That's not a question. Donkey? is the name. The question mark is very important. It's a pretty diverse band. All of us take turns singing and rotating instruments. I suck at the drums, though. Like, wow, I'm just awful.

Yeah, anyway, so we played Rock Band last night for five hours. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life. Or wanted to be in a band more. I know I can't play any real instruments, but I have a guitar so I'm pretty much halfway to being in my own band. Who wants to join? I get to be in charge. Also, I'm bossy. We're only going to play songs I like, but I promise they're good songs.

So apparently the Super Bowl is on today. Whoo. Hoo. To be honest, I'm more excited about the Puppy Bowl, but who wouldn't be? Puppies! That'd be a good name for a band, too. Can you imagine if Puppies! and Donkey? went on tour together? I'd go see that concert. Exclamation point.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Bill Murray, you're my hero

He speaks how I feel:

And also THIS, which is irrelevant (for GROUNDHOG DAY, anyway), but still funny:

Yeah. I'm just posting Youtube clips today. I have to go to work, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

(PS: I have no idea if these clips work because I can't watch Youtube at the office because my life sucks. The end.)

Friday, February 01, 2008

If you are attempting to compliment me, then you have done a very good job.

I just saw the funniest preview for a Lifetime movie. It's called Crimes of Passion: She Woke Up Pregnant. It's about a lady who was raped by her dentist, I guess? When she's all hopped up on laughing gas or something? Well. Probably not laughing gas. You know what I mean. And it's not enough that she gets raped by her dentist, but she also gets KNOCKED UP. Unfair. I think I'd be more upset about being pregnant than the rape thing. WOW, OK, I realize that's not particularly funny AT ALL, in fact, it's downright inappropriate for me to be cackling like a drunk clown (omg wtf?) but if you'd seen the preview you'd know why it was funny. I guess this is what you get for being wherever you are instead of in my apartment.

You may be asking yourself, "why is Jennie watching Lifetime?" Well, the answer is because, for some reason, Lifetime Movie Network is showing Conspiracy Theory right now.

You may be asking yourself, "why is Jennie watching a mediocre Mel Gibson movie on a Friday night?" Well, the answer is because, for some reason, I have to go into work tomorrow. And possibly Sunday, which may RUIN my plans to go to Lampl's Saturday night and drink and play Rock Band and if that happens, something is getting set on fire, that's for sure.

You may be asking yourself, "I wonder what Jennie is going to set on fire?" Well, the answer is . . . hey . . . I can't tell you. You wanna know why? Because you might go to the cops. Narc.