story of my life

After work, I went to Jiffy Lube because my car needed an oil change. Duh. It's not like I go hang out at Jiffy Lube just for the hell of it. And you know, their name is right on, because they lubed my car SO FAST. True story.

Anyway, when I got home, I checked the mail like always and as I was flipping through all the crap, I noticed a little postcard that said "$15 OFF" and underneath it said "SIGNATURE OIL CHANGE," and I was all WTF, why does God hate me?

Almighty TiVo, we thank you for all the gifts you have given us. The power to freeze live TV to go take a leak* is nothing short of god-like.

I don't know what to write. Um. Conversation With My Roommate!

[in my car, aka "Sasha"]

Heidi: What CD are you putting in?
Me: Death Cab for Cutie.
Heidi: I think you should change your car's name to Death Cab.
Me: Um.
Heidi: Because you're the cutie . . .
Me: Aww, thanks!
Heidi: Sure. And so the car would be your Death Cab.
Me: Are you sure you're not just saying I'm a bad driver?
Heidi: Haha, no!
Me: OK then.

But I am sort of a bad driver. Not a REALLY bad driver, but I just get distracted really easily. So Death Cab is probably a really fitting name for my car, minus the cutie part.

Oh my god, what am I even talking about.

So last night, Heidi and I were watching How I Met Your Mother (thank you, TiVo) and I heard this weird, liquidy noise (ew) and I looked down the hallway and Phoebe had just projectile vomited all over the place. It was disgusting, but also impressive because of the sheer VOLUME of puke. Clearly, she's got a problem. She had just eaten so we think she might be bulimic. Heidi and I stared at the pile of puke for a couple minutes and exclaimed "OH MY GOD! LOOK HOW MUCH PUKE THERE IS!" a few times because YOU GUYS! This pile of puke had to have weighed more than Phoebe! It took me like half a roll of paper towels to clean it all up. Also, it was still warm and I made sure to tell Heidi all about how warm and gooey it was while I cleaned it up. Gross. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little. Why am I still talking about this? Clearly, I have a problem, too.

*also to clean up cat puke

Oh, the dashboard melted, but we still have the radio.

Every morning, I drive though this busy intersection. It just so happens that once you go through this intersection, the right lane almost immediately ends. Everyone knows this. And every morning, I get in the left lane and wait patiently in line while self-important assholes speed by in the right lane so they can get in front of the long line of cars. I used to stick close to the bumper of the car in front of me so these assholes couldn't get in, because I am a mean and hateful person and pissing people off sometimes makes me happier than it should. I didn't care if they got in front of the car in FRONT of me as long as they weren't directly in front of me. And it made me giggle inside to watch them slam on their brakes and swerve into line behind me. But then I realized I just didn't care. There are so many other things I could be worrying about. And anyway. Carma's a bitch. I'm sorry. That was lame and I'm pretty sure that's not even the first time I've said it. Sad.

I used to be one of you crazy, swerving, speeding assholes. But I don't drive like a crazy person anymore because I've decided I like living. ALSO I've discovered that it's much more fun to piss people off by driving the speed limit. And then? When they can't pass you? Turn right somewhere as slooooowly as you can. I think I almost made a lady's head explode one day. Best. Day. Ever.

The other reason I decided to start going the speed limit is that I can't really afford to pay for a ticket. I mean, sure, it'd be super fun to blow $50 on something I don't need, but I'd rather blow it on shoes or liquor or black market babies. I still have my fingers crossed that I won't get a ticket in the mail from the state of Illinois because of those tollbooths I accidentally ran through the last time I went to Chicago. Oops.

I'm not saying I'm always a perfect angel while driving. On my bad days, I can be as road-ragey as the next person. And, for the sake of my own sanity (what's left of it), I lift all non-speeding, non-swerving, non-crazy rules when I'm driving in downtown Chicago, where obviously the only way to drive is with your fingers crossed and your eyes closed.

You know what else is facing five Goliaths? America -- Al-Qaeda. Global warming. Sex predators. Mercury poisoning. So do we just give up?

Man, that last post was all kinds of whiny, wasn't it? And I didn't even tell you the best part of the trip! When I say best part, I may be exaggerating a tiny bit because . . . it was more traumatizing than good but I WILL NEVER FORGET IT.

So there we are, driving along the highway, minding our own business, when OUT OF NOWHERE something thumps along the windshield. Then TO OUR HORROR we looked at the passenger side windshield and there was a bug the size of Cincinnati stuck in the windshield wiper. It was ginormous. We named it Bob. He stayed with us almost all the way through Indiana, until we stopped at a gas station and I peeled it off with a paper towel and screeched like, well, a girl.

Yeah, well, I’m calling the Ungrateful Bee-yotch Hotline!

Dear Internets, meet Sasha:

Yes, I ripped off the name from JD's scooter on Scrubs. Deal with it. Look at how little and cute she is! I can probably keep her in my pocket if I can't find a parking space. I had to give her a girl name because that car is CLEARLY a girl. Heidi suggested "Minty" but my mom said she needed something more exotic. Thus, Sasha was born. Thank you, Zach Braff. For so many things, really. Heh.

I got a little sad last night when I had to give the keys to Tealy to the dealership guy. Especially when my dad started talking about how they were going to rip him to pieces for parts.

Me: NO! NO NO NO!
Dad: Haha.
Me: Tealy is going to a little farm out in the country where he can drive and frolic about in the fields.
Mom: Oh my.
Dad: Yeah, ok.
Me: It's true.
Dad: Maybe he can be with the Buick.
Mom: Yeah, what did you name the Buick?
Me: Big Blue.
Dad: Well, Tealy and Big Blue will be very happy together.
Me: The other night Heidi called Tealy a "she" and I was all "NO! Tealy is a boy."
Mom: What was Big Blue?
Me: A boy. Which is too bad for Tealy.
Dad: Not necessarily.
Me: That's true, Tealy IS kind of gay.
Dad: Nothing wrong with that.
Me: I hope the farm is in New Hampshire.
Dad: You are so strange.

a stronger girl would shake this off in flight, and never give it more than a frowning hour

Internets, I've been blue this week and can't figure out why (lie #1 - I know exactly why). On Sunday, Kat decreed that Monday would be the WORST. DAY. EVER. and so it was. Then we decided to go ahead and extend it to Tuesday and then suddenly it was "WORST. DAY. EVER. Week." So . . . enjoy! I've mentioned it to a couple people and they are all on board, so you should be, too.

I am being dramatic. Nothing bad has happened to me this week. In fact, good things happened over the weekend, so I don't know where this bad mood came from (lie #2 - I know exactly where). Also, if all goes well, I'm getting a new car tomorrow, so I should be happy, right? Right.

Did you hear me, Internets? A NEW CAR! Said like Bob Barker. It's not REALLY a new car. But it is a mere two years old, which is younger than Phoebe. Not that I would condone trying to ride Phoebe to work. I tried that once and she bit me and then pooped on my pillow (lie # 3 - that never happened).

I do have one legitimate reason for being sad (not that the other reason isn't legitimate, but it is much less tangible and much more dramatic and involves WAY more obsessing and being a stupid stupid girl than I am comfortable with . . . oh man, am I being vague OR WHAT? Ha and also awesome) and that is that I have to get rid of my old car. Tealy. Oh, Tealy! I am not lying when I say to you that I may shed a tear tomorrow when I hand over the keys. We've been through a lot together. I have had this car since 1999 when I was still IN HIGH SCHOOL. It came to college with me. I drove it to Cleveland, Chicago, Michigan, and other places I CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER. I've been stranded in this car, cried in this car, laughed in this car, been laughed AT in this car, driven around aimlessly for hours in this car, been kissed in this car, and BEST OF ALL I have sung along to Journey in this car! JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL! LIVING IN A LOOOOONELY WORLD!

Oh man, I'm gonna cry FOR REAL. You guys know how I never get rid of stuff? That includes stuff in my car. I cleaned it out tonight because I won't have time tomorrow after work before I pick up my new car and you would not BELIEVE the shit I found in there. Here is a list of things I found in both the car and the trunk, you disbelievers:

• jumper cables
• antifreeze
• a quart of oil
• three ice scrapers
• wait, no, four ice scrapers
• a cell phone charger for a phone I haven't had in at least four years
• two old license plates
• a blanket
• a Harry Potter lightening bolt temporary tattoo
• CASSETTE TAPES . . . no wait, cassette MIX tapes that I made IN HIGH SCHOOL (!!!)
• a fake Furby (named Hootenanny by ME) that I got in high school in a McDonald's happy meal
• a keychain from the library I worked at in high school
• a pair of shoes
• the tassel from my high school graduation cap
• two pairs of sunglasses that I thought I'd lost
• lots of loose change
• a YoYo

That's it, other than a lot of trash. OH WAIT, I forgot the best thing! I found a letter I'd written to my friend in MALAWI AFRICA that I forgot to send. It's from April 9th of last year (written at 11:37 AM if LastYearJennie can be believed) and of course I read it, out loud, to Heidi because it's like a time capsule. FROM LAST YEAR. Dum dum DUM!

You wanna hear my favorite part of the letter? It is either this:

I have this letter I wrote back in late February to send you but it's on my computer and my printer is out of ink. You'd think this would be relatively easy to fix, and you'd be right, but for a variety of reasons I just haven't gotten a new one yet. They're kind of expensive, I haven't had time, and I'm moving soon so I might as well wait. Long story short, I'm a bad friend blahdeebloobloo.

or this:

Wanna hear something funny? I haven't done my taxes yet. Heehee! My dad flipped out when I told him that. He kept saying that I'd forget to do them but that just goes to show he is not a true procrastinator. A real procrastinator doesn't forget things they have to do; they just like the excitement of waiting until the last minute. True, I wish I hadn't left them until now, since I'm busy getting ready to move, but I didn't know I was moving in January. Or February, even. Besides, back then I was SURE I'd have my taxes done by now. Can we say delusional? I can. Out loud.

So, I still haven't gotten a new ink cartridge for my printer. Also, I'm pretty sure it was around April 9th when I did my taxes this year. So that's it. I'm done trying to fight it. The procrastination can take over and do what it wants and maybe I will finally have peace.

This is the longest entry ever. You'd think I'd delete some of it but you'd be wrong. Anyway, I just remembered how much I like writing letters. Like real letters, not just e-mails, although I do enjoy a good e-mail. Or chat. But real letters are fun, what with the handwriting and the having to know how to spell things and whatnot. Good times. Who wants to be my pen pal? If no one volunteers, I'm going to be forced to write letters to random people and they'll be all, "who is this Jennie and why does she keep calling me Internets?"

Bad CARma (I'm sorry for that)

Hello, Internets. I hope you're doing well today. I'm great, thanks for asking! Kind of have a headache, though. But it's sunny outside! And somewhat warm! Birds and bees are having sex with each other, as is my understanding. Wow, I can't believe I'm stealing from The Simpsons now. LAME. Oh well.

Enough of that. So you guys know how I have to get a new car, right? Oh, well, I have to get a new car. Or a newish car. The odds of me being able to afford a NEW new car? Not good. Anyway, I would just be happy to have a reliable car. One where I don't have to check the oil every day. Or one that starts right away so I don't have to pray to little baby Jesus every time I turn the key in the ignition. Or one where the automatic locking mechanism is not duct-taped to the door. Or one that is not a HULKING DEATH TRAP OF DOOM.

Right now, I am just driving my car to work and back and hoping and praying that it lasts until next week. I don't know why I have made next week the deadline, but I have. Don't ask for logic, you won't find it here and if you don't know that by now, I'm just not sure what you're even doing on this blog. Please don't leave, though. I love you.

So, I've been doing a lot of car shopping on The Internets and I have come to the conclusion that cars are expensive and I am just going to invent a teleporter. OK, not really, because that sounds like a lot of work. I just need a car that has wheels. Any amount of doors. Ooh, ooh, I just remembered! Conversations! With My Roommate!

Heidi: So what kind of car do you want to get?
Me: I don't know. It just has to be an automatic.
Heidi: Yeah, that's what your mom said.
Me: What?
Heidi: When you and your dad were test driving your car, she was like, "I guess Jennie could technically drive a stick, but I worry. She's just so easily distracted."
Me: You know, I'd be offended, but she's right.
Heidi: Haha.
Me: Seriously, though, who would want to drive a stick?
Heidi: I don't know.
Me: I think guys like to drive a stick because it's like an extension of their penis.
Heidi: Okaaaaay.

Yeah. So that happened. I also thought about leasing a car, but this one website had a quiz on whether you should buy or lease and one of the questions was "Do you get emotionally attached to your car?" and at first I was all, "Who gets emotionally attached to A CAR?!" and then I remembered that I named my car "Tealy" and gave it a hug on Sunday when it wouldn't start and if that isn't emotionally attached, I don't know what is.

Whenever I’m about to do something, I think, “Would an idiot do that?” And if they would, I do not do that thing.

Today as I arrived at work and skidded my way through the parking lot that is still covered in sheets of ice, I wondered why we place ourselves in these giant, hulking, pieces of metal and hurtle down the road at speeds of sometimes 70 MILES AN HOUR. I think we must all really have a death wish. Cars are scary and also dangerous, especially with humans behind the wheel. Robots? Still dangerous, but not as much.

I keep thinking how much easier it would be if we all lived back in Little House on the Prairie times. We could just walk to work. Cause you'd only work like a mile away from your house. Or something. And sure . . . if I tried to walk to work on a day like today I'd probably lose a few fingers and possibly a couple toes. But maybe, if I was lucky, Pa would give me a ride in the wagon. Only wasn't it in a wagon accident that Mary went blind? I can't remember. Also, I think one of the other kids fell down a well. Carrie? I didn't like that girl anyway. OK, so I know that prairie times were hard. And now I have completely lost track of my point . . . if I even had one. Which, let's face it, is iffy. I like the word iffy. I don't know why. I'm going to start saying it more. You know what else I'd like to start saying? "Oh my godfathers." Again, I don't know why. But, like, if something shocking happened? Like someone at work fell down in the parking lot? I could be all, "oh my godfathers!" and place my hand over my heart like I was going to faint. I would also like to start saying things like, "he fancies you," or "where is the bloody lift?" OK, let me be honest here . . . what I would really like is to be British. Really British, though, not the fake British I pretend to be sometimes when I'm drunk*.

Alright, I'm cutting myself off from talking. Have a good weekend, Internets, I'll see you Monday.

*true story

I see a little silhouetto of a man

I think I've mentioned this, but the doctor I work for has two offices and to get to one, I drive by Giant Jesus. Come on. You know Giant Jesus by now. I only talk about him ALL THE TIME and it's not because I have nothing else to talk about, it's because I find Giant Jesus to be awesome. Who doesn't? I bet it makes all the other states jealous, ESPECIALLY Utah. I don't know why.

Anyway, we worked in that office today, but won't be back until after the first of the year, so I made sure to wish Jesus a happy birthday as I drove by this evening. And that made me think of that one year my grandma bought a cake that said "Happy Birthday, Jesus" on it. I hope she bought another one this year, but considering how much shit we gave her for the first one I really doubt that's a possibility.

On the way to work today, this car in front of me was from Michigan and he almost drove off the road trying to gawk at Giant Jesus. I started to laugh and then about thirty seconds later I almost drove off the road trying to turn up the volume because Bohemian Rhapsody had just come on the radio. CARma. Haha. Get it?

I suck.

I’m always thinking one step ahead. Like a carpenter that makes stairs.

I think my car radio may be on the fritz. I realized this yesterday when I was on my way to work and the local radio station sounded off-and-on staticy.

This could be bad, because you see . . . my mood when I arrive at work depends mostly on if I hear songs I like on the way. If Justin brings the sexy back or John Mayer sings to me (what, it is to me) or I hear Hold Me Closer, Tony Danza, I'm gonna be in a good mood. If I have to hear Gwen Stefani butcher a song from a beloved movie or a get a goddamn Fergie song stuck in my head then I may try to kill someone with my BARE HANDS when I exit my car. Although, it sounds like a lot of effort to kill someone with my bare hands, so more than likely I'd just run them over with my car. See? Easy.

Lately, I've been in a pretty good mood when I get out of the car because they've started playing all Christmas music on 99.9. Which I like now, but give me another couple weeks and this will be the music that puts me in a murderous mood. But YOU try being in a bad mood when you hear the Hippo song! I promise you, it is impossible! My only complaint about this station is that they play the Josh Groban version of "O, Holy Night" and not the Cartman version. What the hell is that? Come on, let's get it together.

So, yes, I'm a little sad at this latest development with my car radio. You see, there is no CD player (I know) and when you try to play a cassette tape it sounds like The Chipmunks instead of Weezer/Barenaked Ladies/what have you. Which can be amusing for a couple of minutes but, trust me, gets old after your cousins make you play The Chipmunks Sing Blink 182 for half an hour.

Today my car radio seemed to be working fine, but when I almost drove off the road while singing and flailing myself around to "Proud Mary," I began to think that maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if it stopped working completely.