ask again later

I complain a lot (see: this blog). Not just that, though, I TALK about complaining a lot (see again: this blog). I complain about everything: being tired, being hungry, my feet hurting, any time I'm not at 100% comfort level, my job, cleaning, the laundry, the pets, the house, etcetera etcetera ETCETERA.

I complain too much, I know. I try to be aware of it but even that doesn't stop the negativity from spewing out of my mouth. And what do I really have to complain about? Nothing, really. I'm so lucky. So why can't I shut up?

I have this picture hanging above my desk at home that I think I should maybe hang up at work, too. It's a flowchart. It's...well, here, just take a look:

I try to think about it whenever I start complaining about not being happy about something, because most of the things I'm unhappy about? I could change, just by trying harder, getting up earlier, not plopping my ass on the couch for hours at a time. My main problem, really, is that I like to complain about things but not actually change anything because change is scary and what if I change something and still nothing good happens? Well, duh, that means change something else but WHAT IF THAT DOESN'T WORK EITHER? So instead I stay still, changing nothing, and wait for the world to change into something that will make me happier.

But guess what? The world doesn't give a shit if you're totally happy. The world just...is.

My OTHER problem is that I expect everything to be sunshine and roses, like, all the time, which is impossible, you know? And I KNOW THAT, logically. I know it's impossible. I mean, I'm not a 10-year-old, despite all evidence to the contrary (see AGAIN: this blog). But when something goes wrong, I just want to shut down until things are right again. And again, I'm not 10 years old anymore, so obviously shutting down is not an option. I just want everything to be perfect for everyone ALL THE TIME, is that too much to ask?

Um, yes. It is. But I have to believe that I have the ability to make it as close to perfect as I possibly can. Not all the time, not every day, but when I can. And not just for myself, but for Joe, my friends, my family. It wouldn't really take that much. Just getting off the couch.

Welcome back (Mr. Kotter)

Hello, new friends, old lovers, and everyone else in between. If you are unfamiliar with this space, I recommend NOT reading anything before, like, 2006. Or maybe even 2008. I don't know, I try not to read my archives at all because it makes me cringe so much that my face falls off and I need my face for my job and living and stuff.

Anyway, I'll try not to quit this blog for a while. At least a month. I would also like to start posting more often. I'm looking at my archives right now and I posted 331 times in 2007. That's almost all year! So far in 2011, I've posted 42 times, which is unacceptable. I vow to post more. And clean up my tags, because they are OUT OF CONTROL.

You know what's scary? And sad? And completely off topic? I heard on the radio that bananas are going extinct. I guess they've been going extinct for a while but I didn't know until a few weeks ago. I keep thinking about it and it totally weirds me out. Fruit shouldn't go extinct. I mean, nothing should go extinct, really, especially adorable animals, but it never even OCCURRED to me that I should be worrying about fruit disappearing forever.

I told Joe about it and he was all, "that sucks!" and I was like, "yeah, it's really sad, but what am I going to eat for my morning snack now?" because you guys, I eat a banana every morning around 10:30 so I don't end up eating my stapler before lunchtime. Stupid world. Getting rid of my snacks. Won't somebody think of the ME?

One day I will grow up. That day is not today.

You guys, I know I'm just a few weeks (OK, 13 days) shy of 26, but I think I'm officially old. I pulled a muscle in my back TAKING A SHOWER this morning. Just . . . what? How do you pull a muscle while you're shampooing your hair? Explain that to me. Please. I did this once in college, too. Pulled a muscle doing something ridiculous, like picking up a shoe off the floor. If I remember correctly, the only thing that made it feel better was a pitcher of beer so if you'll excuse me, I think I need to get to the bar.

Guess what? (Here is where you say, "what, Jennie?") Last night, I was so productive. Only not that productive, really. I went running and was going to write an article, but then I got distracted by this ("This is an ex-parrot!") and by the time Heidi got home, it was time for dinner. Against our better judgement, we went to Penn Station. I forget that every time I eat there, I feel like shit for at least 12 hours after. You'd think I'd have learned by now to stay away, but you'd be wrong. I think Penn Station puts crack in their subs.

You guys know how I write How To articles, right? You really should, because besides running, reading, The Office, and Wii, that's pretty much all I talk about here. I know it seems like I blow them off most of the time and, yes, there HAVE been occasions where I really had no idea what I was talking about and so FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, do not try to breed garter snakes based on an article you get from the Internets. Please. Anyway, I do try to take most of them seriously and do the required research. This one time I had to write something like, "How to Find Love on an Internet Dating Site" or whatever, because when you're looking for advice on love and relationships, I am the PERFECT person to come to. In any case, I made up (free) fake profiles on both Match.com and eHarmony and, for future reference, if any of you are looking for some Internet loving and you have a short attention span, go to Match, not eHarmony. Match makes you fill out a fairly long profile, but eHarmony makes you take this test that's longer than the SATs. It had at least 5000 questions on it. After a while, I just started hitting random buttons without reading the questions and, just based on the profiles eHarmony sent me afterward, apparently I told them that I was interested in 60-year-old smokers who lived 300 miles away and had at least eight children. You know what? Just stay away from Internet dating, OK?

Last night, I wrote "How to Switch from AOL to Gmail," which is perfect really, because I want to have Google's babies. I feel like Google is this benevolent, all-seeing entity that watches over all of us and wants us to be happy. Why else would Google have invented Google Talk? And Google Reader! And Google Docs and OH MY GOD GOOGLE BOOKS! Ahem. For realsies, though, I Google something at least once an hour. Hell, I've Googled myself. Don't judge. Everyone Googles themselves, it's perfectly natural.

While I am very familiar with Google and all of their services, I couldn't remember much about signing up for Gmail because I did it about a hundred million years ago. Back when you still needed an invitation to sign up. But no one invited me. Blogger gave me an account because I . . . had a blog? I don't know. Whatever, the point is, I've been using Gmail since THE BEGINNING so suck it. Sorry. Anyway, so last night I went through the whole process of signing up for a new email account (RESEARCH!), which is why I now have this email address: jen.poopsmith@gmail.com. And I KNOW that's absolutely ridiculous, because come on . . . no one even calls me Jen.

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?

LONGEST. DAY. EVER. Week

I'm not sure if you guys knew this, but today was the longest day in the history of the world. True story. See, the thing is . . . I don't know. I don't know what the thing is. I just don't. Sorry.

So, we had this all day training thing at work today. It's for other people, actually, but our department is running it and even though my boss said it was optional I felt obligated to be there because, um, everyone else went. Which meant I was away from both my computer and cell phone for the majority of the day and my head might have exploded a little. Seriously. My brain kind of oozed out one of my ears. Not all of my brain, though. Obviously. Then I had to ask my boss if I could come in late on Friday because I have to go to the hooha doctor that morning and after I asked her I kept thinking, "say no, say no, I want to reschedule, I hate the hooha doctor," because, um, I DO hate the hooha doctor. Who likes the hooha doctor? If you do, there is something wrong with you. QUESTION. Why is the speculum made out of ice cold metal? Why not plastic? Or . . . um . . . silk? I don't know, but what I DO KNOW is that may be the first time I've ever written speculum on this blog, proving that after almost FOUR YEARS, there are still places I have not ventured. Good to know.

The problem with all this training today is that I already know how to do most of the stuff we were talking about. This is both good and bad. Good because if I want to sound smart, I can answer a question or throw in my two cents. But bad because since I already knew what they were talking about, I was finding it harder than usual to pay attention. At one point, I heard, "Jennie? Jennie . . . . . . . . JENNIE," and then I realized that everyone was staring at me and I had no idea why so I just sat there with a stupid grin on my face because in my head I had totally been flying around in a hot air balloon or some crazy nonsense. I think I have a problem. Maybe it's just ADD, but I'm pretty sure it's something they don't make a pill for.

I keep on talking trash but never say anything

I have a severe case of Bitchface today. I could blame the heat, but it's not even as hot today as it was yesterday and yesterday I was fine. Of course, yesterday I spent the day a) brunching, b) shopping at the bookstore, c) reading Salinger, and d) passing out from heat exhaustion at the pool. Whereas today, you see, I was at work. That might have something to do with the Bitchface. I don't know. I'm still looking into it.

I feel stupid complaining about the heat, because it's August and it's always hot in August but I HATE IT I HATE IT I WANT AUGUST TO DIE.

Anyway, we went to a Reds game on Saturday and luckily there were a shit ton of empty seats in the bleachers so we sat all the way at the top because that's where the shade was. Beer cost more than our tickets. And that's all I have to say about that.

After the game we went to dinner and while I was in the bathroom everyone started a rousing game of Would You Rather. When I got back, the question was, "would you rather your spouse was addicted to meth or prostitutes," and when someone shouted "PROSTITUTES PROSTITUTES" the old man at the table behind us turned around and gave us such a look of disgust I thought his face might melt off. I don't want to say it wasn't me who yelled "PROSTITUTES PROSTITUTES," but only because I don't really remember if it was me or not. It sure SOUNDS like me. Whatever. Heidi was the one who was all, "prostitutes, because they're cheaper," like . . . what kind of cheap ass prostitutes is your husband going to, Heidi?

LATER I accidentally got everyone's hopes up that the meteor shower was that night and we had all these plans to get a blanket and some beers and watch it fly by but then I Googled it and it turns out the meteor shower WAS NOT Saturday night, but Sunday night. Stupid meteors. Then I got called a nerd for the following reasons:

• I've read Harry Potter way more than once
• Heidi was telling a story about a transvestite named Larry who wanted to be called Laurie and how she couldn't call him Laurie because Laurie is a girl's name and I was all, "nuh uh, in Little Women there is a character named Laurie and he is a boy who falls in love with Jo and Amy, and if you can take on two of the March sisters in one lifetime, especially those two, you are pretty damn manly," and they just stared at me like I'd grown two heads but I went inside and checked and it turns out I had NOT grown two heads, I guess they just apparently hadn't read Little Women 800 times as a tiny child like I did.
• I used the word "unwieldy" when talking about what objects in our apartment would be too difficult to use as weapons against zombies.

I'm sure there were more reasons. It's just that I get called a nerd so often, I barely notice it anymore. BUT WHATEVER. Everyone else was JUST AS EXCITED ABOUT THE METEOR SHOWER AS I WAS and if that doesn't make you a nerd, I don't know what does.

Please pray for it to get a little cooler. At least by this weekend. We're going to Kings Island (please don't stalk me) and if it's hot, it will be smelly and ALSO there will be way more fat, dimpled flesh everywhere if it's 100 degrees and not, say, 80. Truly. It's science. Heidi got tickets through work and I was all excited because they were so cheap until Heidi told me she probably wouldn't ride all the roller coasters and I think my exact words were, "WELL, THEN, YOU'D BETTER INVITE MORE PEOPLE," because my response to someone doing something nice for me is apparently to yell at them and berate them for not wanting to fly upside-down at 50 miles per hour.

a fist, a hand, hoocha hoocha hoocha . . . lobster

I could tell you I've never been this tired in my life, but I'd probably be lying. In fact, I'm so tired that I can't remember if I've ever been this tired in my life. So that's a problem. A tiny problem, I'll admit, but a problem.

Oh, Internets. It was sort of a disastrous weekend. I feel like I spent most of it in my car stuck in traffic because of the fucking tolls in Chicago. The traffic was so bad that even though I left the city for Barrington (where? yeah, I don't know either) an hour and a half early, I was two minutes late for the ceremony. And when I got there, they told me that since the ceremony had already started I couldn't go in. I thought about going all Jon Secada and pounding on a window and screaming until they let me in, but I couldn't see any windows overlooking the ceremony so instead I went out to my car and cried. I mean, yeah, it's not very productive but I felt better afterward. The reception was fun, although I couldn't dance very well because I think the dress I borrowed from Heidi was just a tiny bit too small and I was afraid one of my boobs would fall out and nothing ruins a reception faster than some guest who didn't even make it to the ceremony having a wardrobe malfunction. True story. After the ceremony, I changed my clothes in my car but it was OK because almost everyone was gone and it was really dark and now that I think about it maybe it's not a good idea to change your clothes in a dark, secluded parking lot if you're a woman and alone and in a strange town. Oh well. On the way home, this will surprise you, I got really lost in Chicago but it wasn't my fault because Mapquest gave me the wrong directions. Fucking Mapquest. When I finally got back to Mary's, I found the last parking spot in the $5 parking lot and gave her doorman my sob story about the traffic and the wedding and the getting lost and he let me into Mary's apartment. I guess I don't look very threatening (little does he know). Oh and I also accidentally ran through a toll without paying on the way to the wedding. Oops.

There were other small disasters. Not as disastrous as, I don't know, missing the wedding, but still. At dinner Friday night, there was a tiny mishap with a full margarita and I ended up wearing it. As I sat there, staring at the sticky mess in my lap, I wondered if I should just give up and go home but NO I went into the bathroom (thankfully it was a one person bathroom and not one with a bunch of stalls) and took off my shirt and pants and dried them under the hand dryer. And that is how I ended up half naked in a restaurant bathroom in Chicago. DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU OTHERWISE. Anyway, I spent the rest of the night somewhat sticky and smelling of strawberries.

Also?

Mary: Boyfriend's Friend is hitting on you.
Me: No, he's not.
Erica: Yes, he is.
Me: No, he's not.
Mary: Um, OK.
Me: He has a girlfriend.
Mary: Yeah, he cheats on her a lot.
Me: OH MY GOD! I AM SO SICK OF BOYS! SERIOUSLY! I'm done.
Mary: Please stop yelling.

Then later in the car I yelled some more about something I can't remember. Don't worry, this wasn't angry yelling or anything. It's just that when I drink, my volume goes up to 11 (that's high) and everything I say sounds like angry yelling or at least regular yelling but it's really not.

Yesterday it took us approximately 97 hours to get out of the city and I finally made it home a little after 10. And even though I was exhausted, I couldn't sleep last night. What IS that? I love sleeping! Why doesn't my brain? Sleep is SO GOOD. My brain doesn't even know. Stupid brain, who needs it?

I don't want it to seem like it was a terrible weekend. I had fun. It's just that, you know, shitty things happened. It's OK, though, because yesterday was officially the end of my wedding season. Until October. Sigh.

Dear Time Warner, jump up your own ass and die. Love, Jennie

You guys, I have a favor. I must ask you to boycott Time Warner Cable, if you have that ability. You see, I cannot boycott Time Warner Cable because they are the only cable company in the area. Which must be the reason their customer service, excuse my language, sucks giant, hairy donkey balls. Seriously. Go Google "Time Warner sucks" and you will come up with all sort of stories from people who have been screwed (and not in a good way) by Time Warner. I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM.

About a month ago, Heidi and I came home to discover that our cable was out. NOT GOOD. Especially because we were missing How I Met Your Mother . . . the one where Barney goes on The Price is Right. Can you believe that shit? Me either. Bob Fucking Barker. When I called Time Warner, Christopher (if that IS his real name) told me that it had been disconnected because of nonpayment. "No," I said. "I am looking at the bill right now and we don't owe anything."

"Oh," he replied. "Can you hold please?"

So I held. And held. And held some more. When he came back on the line he told me that our cable should not have been disconnected (duh) and a technician would hook it up the next day. He ALSO told me no one needed to be home for this to happen because they had just disconnected it at the pole. OK. When I got home the next day, I was pleasantly surprised to find the cable working. However, there were two messages on the answering machine from Time Warner Customer Service saying I'd missed my appointment and needed to reschedule. I ignored both messages because, um, clearly I hadn't missed my appointment. The cable was back on. Problem solved.

Until today. DUN DUN DUN! I came home for lunch and noticed a Time Warner Cable van in the parking lot. I didn't think anything of it until I heard a bunch of noises outside my bedroom window, where the cable is hooked up. I turned on the TV and noticed that HEY our cable wasn't working! OH NO HE DIDN'T. I grabbed our latest bill and ran outside. He was already back in his van and so I knocked on the window all rude and "EXCUSE ME" until he got out.

"Did you just disconnect our cable?" I asked. He nodded. "WHY?" I growled. He messed around with his papers and told me it was because we hadn't paid our bill, which is when I started yelling and waving the bill in his face and told him the story I told you guys only not so nice. He called his supervisor, who said I needed to go to the Time Warner Cable office and show them my ID.

"WHY?" I asked again.

He said something about a credit check for the reinstallation, at which point I tried to explain that they were never supposed to disconnect our cable in the first place, at which point he stared at me and said nothing, at which point I said, "this is fucking ridiculous," and slammed the door in his face. On my way back to work I called customer service and they told me the same thing. I needed to show my picture ID at the Time Warner office. But THIS LADY couldn't even tell me why. Whatever, I thought, I'll just go down there and fix this, no big deal.

All afternoon long I worked myself up into an angrier anger ball than I already was. I got to the place ten minutes before they closed (whew) and when I explained my story to the lady at the counter, she just kept shaking her head and saying, "they shouldn't have done that." Well, NO SHIT, lady, that's why I'm here! She ran a credit check, looked at my ID and verified that I am, in fact, Jennifer Lynn Lastname and not some crazy impostor, and said someone would be out to reconnect my cable.

"And I won't be charged for anything?" I asked. She shook her head. I got her name. If they try and charge me extra money or fail to reconnect everything by tomorrow, Penny's going down.

I would love to get rid of Time Warner. I could live without cable (Heidi?) . . . I mean, I wouldn't like it (no Jon Stewart?) but I've lived without before and it was fine. Anyway, I'm super pissed right now because NBC is airing a marathon of The Office tonight HOSTED BY STEVE CARELL. Although, we have the episodes they're running either on DVD or TiVo anyway, so I got over that pretty quickly. BUT. John Krasinski is on Conan O'Brien tonight AND I'M GOING TO MISS IT. And they are my two favorite Bostonians!

Seriously, I don't know (heh) what I'd do without YouTube.

PS: Sorry for being so complainy. I realize that, in the grand scheme of things, this a small, tiny, insignificant problem. But if I were going to get and stay this mad about the grand scheme of things, I'd never get anything done.