Happy Birthday, Heidi!

I can't wait to drink ginormous beers and screech Sweet Caroline, and generally just be loud and obnoxious.

Sorry in advance, Joe.

after the war

Now that I've started my new job, my commute is much longer AND I have to take the highway (past Giant Jesus . . . twice a day). Plus also, Heidi and I are moving in a couple weeks, adding more time onto my commute, but I've decided not to think of that until May. You know, when we move. Yesterday, after merging onto 75 and almost being run off the road by some douche in a Mustang trying to get in front of just ONE. MORE. CAR., in my rage I actually had the thought, "YOU ASSHOLE, I HOPE YOU DIE!" And that's when I realized I needed to get my road rage under control.

My first step is to make sure I have coffee for the drive. This actually has less to do with road rage and more to do with not wanting to fall asleep while I'm driving. Plus, did you know they sell Dunkin Donuts coffee at the grocery so you can buy it and bring it home and cuddle with it and also make it in a coffeemaker and take it to work with you? Because they do. YOU'RE WELCOME. Anyway, so I make sure I have coffee and I've either eaten something or I have enough time to run through Panera and get a blueberry muffin (YUM) or, at the very least, I have food in my bag that I can eat on the way. Because breakfast is important, even if you're eating it at 80 mph.

My next step is to make sure I have soothing music with me. Today I listened to Stars. This solves two problems. Playing a CD means I'm not fiddling with the radio (heh, fiddling, I DON'T KNOW) which leaves a free hand for twirling my hair. This is important. I've been twirling my hair since my hair was long enough to twirl and I've given up trying to stop and do you want to know why? Because my hair is really soft. That's it. Also, twirling my hair makes me calm. I don't know why, but I'd imagine it has something to do with the fact that I ALSO get really relaxed and sleepy if someone plays with my hair. I've almost fallen asleep in the hairdresser's chair before. True story. Twirling my hair must do the same thing, only not as drastically, which is good because I don't really fancy falling asleep while driving.

My third and final step is to repeat my mantra. I wish I could tell you it was something I'd thought a lot about and decided to use because it would be the most effective way of keeping myself calm, or that I'd stolen it from someone smarter much than myself and it was all beautiful and deep, but really it's just what ends up popping into my head whenever something I don't like presents itself. This is why, when someone cuts me off and I feel the rage monster threatening to leap out of my chest so it can KILL KILL KILL, I just say, "oh, fuck it." Because, you know what? . . . fuck it! Does it really matter that someone else is driving like a jackhole? No. Is it going to delay me at all? Probably not, unless I chase them down and beat them to death with their own shoe. So fuck it. I'll get to work when I get to work and until then, thank god I have some good music to get me there.

woke up today, to everything gray

I am in A Mood but I'm working really hard to get out of it. I always get really cranky on Mondays because I'm upset that the weekend is over, even though it happens EVERY WEEK, so you'd think I'd be used to it by now. You'd be wrong, though. As it is, I'm struggling not to punch my coworkers in the face just because they have the AUDACITY to speak to me. I keep thinking, "snap out of it, Crankypants," every time I get all snarky with someone in my head, and really, it's the thought that counts SO BACK OFF.

It makes it even harder (heh) to get back to work when the weekend was such a good one. We visited Lampl and Jon on Friday, since they are soon leaving us for sunny Florida, and although the night started off innocently with margaritas and burritos at Chipotle, it soon moved to buying random beer at the grocery (WARNING: do not buy beer just because it has Bigfoot on it and you think it'll be funny because it tastes like . . . well, Sasquatch ass) and ended with a lot of screeching into the microphone during Rock Band and a late night run though Taco Bell. I knew things were not going to end well when it was my turn to sing and I realized I was seeing two sets of lyrics, and so I had to squint to make out the words to Any Way You Want It. I mean, luckily, I know most of those words ANYWAY (you want it) so crisis averted. I ended up singing it twice, for some reason, and I'm still not sure how that happened.

Needless to say, I did nothing productive on Saturday and ended up lying around in my pajamas for most of the day lamenting the fact that OH, I AM NOW SO OLD. I look forward to celebrating getting even older next weekend with the Reds and giant beers. So I will be spending much of next Sunday in my pajamas being completely unproductive, is what I'm saying.

I'm just like Ferdinand Magellan, only I'm not a dude and I don't speak Spanish

I went exploring again at lunch today and discovered that NOT ONLY am I a ten minute drive from Ikea, but I'm a LESS THAN ten minute drive from Jungle Jim's.

Oh, you don't know what Jungle Jim's is? I'm sorry. Your life, up until now, has been sad and tragic but DON'T WORRY because I am about to BLOW YOUR MIND. Sit down.

Jungle Jim's, claims the website, is six acres under one roof*. And I believe them. I went in to use the ATM and decided to wander around a bit and I thought I might never make my way out. I looked at all of the cheeses, including The Big Cheese, and I wondered whether it would be weird to eat a hunk of cheese for lunch. I did a double-take as I walked past a bear dressed as Elvis and booked it because I still haven't gotten over my fear of the Chuck-E-Cheese monsters characters. (See THIS to be even more frightened.)

The one thing I COULDN'T just walk away from was the bathroom. I know it sounds ridiculous, but if you ever go to Jungle Jim's, make sure you have to pee. Or poo. You can poo in there, too. The bathroom is for onesies or twosies, I always say. Actually that's the first time I've ever said that. The bathroom is for onesies and twosies, I always say. OK, now I've said it twice so it's officially "something I say." Anyway.

Here's the big secret about the bathroom. They look like porta-potties, but inside is all fancy. See? There, now you don't have to go all the way to Ohio to see the bathrooms at Jungle Jim's. Although, you totally should go to Ohio. At least this part of Ohio. We have Jungle Jim's, Ikea, AND Giant Jesus. What else do you need?

Plus, the alcohol section is like . . . bigger than a regular grocery store. It is magical. I didn't even venture into it today because I was afraid I wouldn't make it back to work. True story.

Oh, and outside Jungle Jim's is a lagoon thing with fake jungle animals in it. Take a looksie:



You totally want to go now, don't you? Well, let's go. Then we can take a drive down to Kentucky and go to Dinosaur World.

*they also claim to have the largest cheese selection in the US, so . . . YUM

Tiiii-iiiiime is on my side

Hey, remember that really annoying Time Warner commercial from a couple years ago? I know that doesn't help much because, as Time Warner is Satan's boyfriend, it follows that he puts out the most annoying commercials known to mankind, surpassed only by Hidy Honda and Buddy's Carpet. Those might be local commercials. Sorry. Actually no, if you've never seen a Hidy Honda or Buddy's Carpet commercial, consider yourself lucky.

Anyway. There was this really annoying Time Warner commercial, and in it, Vanessa Carlton (remember her?) warbles that song Time is On My Side. My point is, it's like the worst rendition of that song in existence. And I'm counting that time I sang it at a karaoke bar after 18 shots of tequila. OK, that never happened, but if it HAD, it still would have been better than that song. Um. Right. So.

I have absolutely no reason to be blogging right now, other than I'm bored and I have nothing else to do. Hey, it's just like the days of yore! You know! Yore! When I used to work at that orthodontist office and they would leave me unattended every Friday and I'd run out of work around 10 and spend the rest of the day blogging and reading the Internets! Good times. My 'n' key keeps sticking. So if any words are misspelled, that's why. I keep accidentally typing my name like this: Jeie, which is great because what I really want is for everyone at work to think I don't know how to spell my name right. Although, according to my parents, I haven't been spelling my name right since 4th grade. That's when I changed it from "Jenny" to "Jennie" because there were four other Jennifers in my class and they all went by Jenny and they all spelled it with a 'y' and I was all, "I want to be different!" I wish someone had told me I didn't have to change the spelling of my name because I was always going to be "different," no matter how I spelled my name. It would have saved a lot of confusion. And time. Because I've had lots of conversations like this:

HP (Hypothetical Person, not Harry Potter): Do you go by Jennifer?
Me: No, Jennie.
HP: Is that with a 'y' or an 'i'?
Me: "i-e."
HP: ...oh.

I didn't think it was that weird in 4th grade, but people seem to have a hard time with it. I almost started spelling it like this: Jinniey. I'm glad I didn't, though. Most people default to the wrong spelling (Jenny), but I don't get offended considering a lot of my family doesn't even remember to spell it right (Jennie). Tamara tried to convince me that I should start going by "Jen" or "Jennifer" at my new job, just to switch things up. I fully intended to do so on my first day, but then my new boss led me around introducing me as "Jennie with an ie," and I knew it wasn't going to happen. I finally got someone to remember that I'm Jennie with an 'ie' JUST when I don't want anyone to call me Jennie at ALL. Isn't it ironic? Well? Alanis? Anyone?

Anyway, NOW my point is I'm going to start going by Cassandra. Tell your friends.

Are you there, blog? It's me, Jennie.

One week in, and I still don't have access to everything I need in order to do my job and so here I sit, twiddling my thumbs and twirling my hair. Although, not at the same time because I only have two hands so that'd be impossible. Or at least really hard. Anyway. It's not that I mind mindlessly surfing the internet all day, it's just that I have so much time to mindlessly surf the internet THAT I'M RUNNING OUT OF INTERNET. My Google Reader is practically empty and if it goes to ZERO, prepare for FULL-BLOWN PANIC. You know, running through the building and screaming and tearing out hair and rending of garments etc. It's not pretty, is what I'm saying.

Yesterday, my coffeemaker went kaput, making this the fourth coffeemaker to die in our apartment. I blame the kitchen, not Heidi or I, because THROUGH NO FAULT OF OUR OWN*, most of the other kitchen appliances have also broken. Clearly there is some sort of Hellmouth under our kitchen so I'll place the blame there. I went exploring at lunch, even though I had no idea where I was going, which is a dangerous thing for someone like me who gets lost in her own apartment. Anyway, not only did I find a Target so I could replace my coffeemaker, but I found a Panera and a Chipotle AND A BOOKSTORE and a bunch of other stores that I had no use for today, but it's nice to know they're there. So, you know, it's a good thing this job pays more, is what I'm saying.

*aside from the garbage disposal

I always wondered...

if I could spend an entire day at work and NOT check my personal e-mail. Turns out I can, but only if I don't have a computer in front of me.

Also. I'm sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a billion items in my Google Reader to get through.

OK, just so I understand it. In your wildest fantasy, you are in hell. And you are co-running a bed and breakfast with the devil.

Today is my last day at my job, and since I start my new job straightaway (MONDAY MONDAY MONDAY), my main goal for today is to leave work early. My other goals are to make sure my replacement's head doesn't explode (she commenced freakout: oh, yesterday, around 3 o'clock), and to not say anything really stupid before I leave. I've been here a little over two years, just like my last job, and, just like my last job, I'm starting to see everything through rose-colored glasses. This morning, I was all, "I like all these people!" (lies) and "the pay isn't so bad!" (lies) and "this place doesn't make my head explode!" and then email after email started coming through and I was like, "ow, head, stop exploding." True story.

Seven hours later . . .

I actually wrote all that when I first got to work, thinking I'd be having a (mostly) free day. That is not what happened. Instead I worked really hard and then went to lunch with my coworkers and then worked really hard some more and then I gave everything to my replacement and then I left FOREVER. And then I got a little sad. And then I saw Joe and he gave me a big hug and I felt better. And now I'm counting down the hours until I meet some of my BFFs for dinner and drinks. Hopefully lots of drinks. The end.