joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea

Saturday morning (and, OK, early afternoon), Joe and I were catching up on our stories (The Office, Archer, etc) and in the middle of my grousing about Brian the Boom Mike Guy, I declared that we should go on an adventure. Not an outdoor adventure, mind you, because it's been below freezing pretty much every day for the past million and a half years, and I couldn't think of any outdoor activities that wouldn't involve me whining a lot or one or both of us losing a body part to frostbite. I did some quiet Googling and thinking (it was hard, you guys) and decided that we should definitely go to Newport Aquarium, which I was PRETTY sure was all or mostly indoors. I didn't verify this before I bought tickets, though. I just bought them. BECAUSE PLANNING IS FOR LOSERS.

[Note: This is so untrue. I plan things like crazy. I plan them so much that it annoys even ME and so one of my goals is to be more spontaneous and not worry if, say, we get to an aquarium and it turns out to be all outdoors and it's 20 degrees and snowing CARPE DIEM SEIZE THE DAY THANK YOU MR KEATING.]

My gamble paid off, luckily, because we only had to be outdoors during the walk from the parking garage to the aquarium. And, I don't know, maybe during the warmer months, they have stuff going on outside (dolphins? manatees? SHAMU?) but just the inside was fine, really. There were, like, probably at least 100 fish inside. MAYBE EVEN 200.

I'm kidding. I'm sure there were more than that. Unfortunately, it seemed like there were as many children running around as there were fish in tanks. I wouldn't have minded the kids so much if they were in tanks, too (ZING!), but really the majority of the children were either well-behaved and/or adorably excited, which I couldn't fault them for BECAUSE OMG PENGUINS OMG SEA TURTLE OMG GIANT ALLIGAAAAATOOOOOOOOOR AHHHHHHHHHHH!! If anything, I was mad because these excitable children were all up in my business while I was trying to get my face as close to the glass without either A) smearing it or B) scaring the fish.

While we were there, not only did I get to watch penguins frolic for half an hour, but I also had the opportunity to A) scare a small child who I thought was lost by asking him if he knew where his mom was and B) bond with with another kid over spider crabs. This is a spider crab and, even if you're not Ron Weasley, I think you'll agree that it's the creepiest fucking things you've ever seen:

Oh my god! Expecto patronum EXPECTO PATRONUM!

On the way home, we stopped and had dinner with Joe's brother and sister-in-law and our adorable nephews, which was the perfect way to end our adventure, mostly because there were no spider crabs at their house.

Joe and I tend to be hermit-like (LIKE HERMIT CRABS) most of the time, though Joe is slightly more prone to leaving the house than I am. I consider sitting at home in my pajamas and not talking to anyone to be one of the most enjoyable things a person can do, but sometimes I have to make myself put on pants and leave the house like a normal person might, if only so I don't turn into Nell. And anyway, I made up for all my pants-wearing on Saturday by sitting in pajamas all day Sunday, binging on TV and junk food while I waited for the Super Bowl Puppy Bowl to start. AMERICA!

might be a quarter-life crisis

After work yesterday, I called my mom to, you know, see what she wanted to do for Mother's Day. Because I'm a good daughter like that. Most of the time.

Me: Hi, mom.
Mom: Hi.
Me: What's up?
Mom: Um . . . it's your nickel.
Me: Oh, well, I was just seeing what we're doing for Mother's Day.
Mom: Oh, I don't know.
Me: Well, you have to choose. You're the only mother in our immediate family.
Mom: Ha. Ha.
Me: I mean, I gave all my kids up for adoption.
Mom: Jennie . . .
Me: So, I don't really call myself a mother.
Mom: Oh, I'd say you're a mother something.

I wish you guys could hear the exasperation in my mom's voice sometimes, I really do. Anyway, I was calling her on the way to volunteering and I was exhausted. Exhausted might not be a good enough word, actually. See, even though I was DEAD after Philly, I couldn't sleep Sunday night. Monday night was even worse. I am not exaggerating when I say I did not sleep at all. And then work tried to kill me. So, yes, corralling little kids all evening didn't exactly sound appealing. But the weird thing about this volunteering gig is that it always puts me in a good mood. I know that sounds ridiculous, considering we're there to talk about death, but we ALSO get to do things like draw pictures and read Dr. Seuss and play Candyland (true story, don't be jealous), so that makes up for it. And the kids are awesome. So awesome, in fact, that I often wonder why I only work with them a couple nights a month and not like, all the time. And there's that whole "what am I doing with my life?" question that pops up, um, every day. ESPECIALLY those days when we have a visiting volunteer who does things like live in exotic countries and smuggle children in danger across the border so they don't get sold into sex slavery AND THEN councils torture victims AND also she looks like Jennifer Garner and I'm standing there all, "Hi . . . I work in HR, nice to meet you."

On the other hand, I got to play with Play-doh last night. My life can't be that bad.

Children cannot lie. They are innocent, and they speak the truth. And out of the mouths of babes, Michael Scott is freaking cool.

Today, as I mentioned, is Take Your Child to Work Day, and so there are adorable children wandering the halls. I ran into one of them, a charming little four-year-old named Dora (not her real name), who was on her way to another department with her dad.

"Look!" she said and held up a box of Timbits. "I'm taking these to my co-workers!"

And then I was all, "ow, my ovaries," and also, "I'm so going to steal you later." Later she told us all about how her dad has a Storm Trooper costume (true story: he wore it for Halloween and it was all kinds of awesome) and ALSO that sometimes he beatboxes at home. They left before I could ask him to demonstrate.

DRAMATIC SUBJECT CHANGE

A couple days ago, I had the following conversation with my parents.

Me: Oh! Heidi and I are running a race again. Will you guys come watch us this time?
Mom: I don't know, IS IT ON THANKSGIVING again?
Me: No. And it's not at 8 in the morning, it's at noon.
Dad: Where?
Me: . . . Columbus.
Dad: Jennie . . .
Me: It's at noon!
Mom: What day is it?
Me: May 25th. A Sunday, I think.
Dad: You can't do that.
Me: Um. Why?
Dad: That's your grandmother's 70th birthday party?
Me: Who-to-the-what-now?
Mom: I told you about this.
Me: You did not!
Mom: I did. I told you to leave that day open.
Me: This is the first I've heard about it!
Dad: Your mom told me she told you.
Me: Well, she didn't.
Mom: I did.
Me: Nuh-uh! I'm always the last to know EVERYTHING. [cue four-year-old-style tantrum]

Anyway, NO ONE EVER TOLD ME. Until like two days later, my aunt called and told me about it. Whatever. THEN! This morning, I found out that not only is my cousin in Kuwait, on his way to Iraq (making him the second person to leave for Iraq WITHOUT TELLING ME), but apparently his mom (my aunt, duh) is having some sort of surgery. No idea what kind, just surgery. At least this time, I'm barely the last to know, because my mom just found out, too. Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better. In any case, I'm going to change the subject now.

When I got my laptop, Heidi was really excited. I believe her exact words were, "now we can sit on the sofa with our laptops and work and it'll be just like we're in school again!"

So last night we were sitting on the sofa working. Well, "working." I don't know what she was doing, but I was playing Free Rice. As research, though, because I'm writing an article called, "How to Help Africa," which I realize is a very, very broad subject and I'll probably do a terrible job, but I'm using Free Rice as a source. Because playing Free Rice means some rice might be sent to Africa, and I think you'll agree that Rice + Africa = Helping Africa. Math!

Anyway, while we were sitting there, I thought, "heehee, I will message her on Google Talk and it will be hilarious because we are sitting next to each other." So I did. And we had the following conversation:

Me: butt
Heidi: erection
Me: phalanges
Heidi: penis
Me: vas deferens
Heidi: moist
Me: panties
Heidi: bajenga

So it really is like we're back in school. Only not college. More like 4th grade. Except I don't think I knew what "vas deferens" meant in 4th grade.

I only have one goal today. To make one kid like me. Just one.

The other day, my boss sent an email about Take Your Child to Work Day, which is tomorrow. Basically she told everyone in the building that they could bring their kids to the HR department and we would give them some treats.

"Oh no!" I shouted from my office (professional). "Does this mean there are gonna be kids all over the place on Thursday?"

Then, BOOM, my boss was at my doorway. I was all, "oh, actually I really like kids," and I wasn't even lying. Kids as a giant, faceless group, I am scared of, but kids on individual level are cool. Not babies, though. Like the real little ones? The ones that don't do anything but lie there and poop? Useless. And sometimes even old babies (you know, like two-year-olds) are annoying. Or they throw up in a restaurant while you're trying to enjoy your dinner. Anyway, where was I?

"I like kids, too," my boss said. "As long as they don't talk to me. Or touch me. Or spill anything." Ha! Awesome. And then, you guys, she told me that since I like kids so much, I "get" to be the one to pass out the treats tomorrow. I was like, "thanks?" Although, I wonder if this is an all day assignment because passing out treats to kids sounds way more exciting than what I normally do.

Also, we're having an ice cream social today at work. I don't know why and I'm not going to ask. You don't question free ice cream.

eff

Hey, remember yesterday when I was bragging about how my arm didn't hurt even though I played with a billion Wiis (hee) this weekend? Yeah, well, it hurts now. I blame Heidi. She hooked her Wii up last night and then OF COURSE we had to play with it.

Sidenote: Can you believe we had a Wii in our apartment for over a week and we didn't even touch it once? Who ARE we?

So anyway. We hooked up the Wii and when I say, "we hooked up the Wii," I mean Heidi hooked up the Wii while I sat and played music on my computer. Then we made our Miis and got down to business. First we bowled. Then we beat the shit out of our boxing opponent. Then we played baseball. THEN we took the fitness test. I was 28, according to Wii, which is pretty damn close to my actual age so I was excited. Last time, I think I was 40 or something. Heidi . . . well, I won't tell you what Heidi got, but she looks SO GOOD for a senior citizen.

I bet you guys are tired of hearing me talk about Wii. Actually, I bet you guys are tired of hearing me talk PERIOD. End of sentence EXCLAMATION POINT. Um. We also made some famous Miis. Like Whoopi Goldberg. And Barney "Swarley" Stinson. And Jim Halpert. You might be wondering who is next. Well. I don't know. You tell me.

Tomorrow at volunteering, I have to lead the group all by myself for the first time ever. And I'm nervous. I planned some activities last night so hopefully the kids don't get all ADD and blow through them all super fast, because then I will be OUT OF IDEAS. I'm so scared. I'm always afraid kids won't like me. I don't really care if adults don't like me, because adults are two-faced and they'll just pretend that they like you and then talk shit about you behind your back. But kids are honest. Kids have no problem saying, "Jennie, I hate you," or "Jennie, you smell bad," or "Jennie, eat my poo." Not that any kids have ever said any of these things to me, but you never know when they might. I'll let you know after tomorrow.

the word you're looking for is, aaaanyway . . .

Yesterday was a big day. I got a laptop. FINALLY. It's nothing sexy and was very cheap, but considering I'm going to use it to surf the Internets and . . . surf the Internets, it's perfect. Also? It doesn't randomly turn off by itself all the time like my old computer. Which, I will now tell you, I've had since freshman year of college. This means I've been using that computer for eight years. EIGHT YEARS. That's a long time. I could have an eight-year-old kid by now, you know, like if I'd gotten pregnant in high school and had the baby over the summer, right after graduation. I mean, if they'd let me graduate with my pregnant belly sticking out of my gown. Which they would have, because if they had tried to stop me, I would have petitioned the school board and if they STILL said no, well, I would have busted into graduation anyway, run (ok, waddled) across the stage, and grabbed a random diploma from the pile.

Something even more exciting than a laptop happened yesterday. Heidi almost had a heart attack during the last few seconds of her attempt to buy a Wii on eBay. But it was all for naught, because she totally won.

I'm sorry, did you hear me? Heidi. Bought. A. Wii. So when that gets here, I'll probably have to say goodbye to you, Internets, because I will be too busy playing with Heidi's Wii to talk to you anymore. Also, what with the laptop and the Wii? I'll probably never leave the apartment again.

Speaking of technology, last night at volunteering I was sitting next to this charming little girl wearing a pug t-shirt and a yellow scrunchie. She was telling me about how one of her friends has an iPhone and before I could be all, "wtf does a 9-year-old need with an iPhone, GIVE IT TO ME," she THEN told me that they sometimes watch YouTube on the iPhone at recess. I nodded as she spoke, but she must have thought I looked confused (which is my natural state), because she stopped to explain something.

"YouTube is this thing on the Internet," she said. "You can like watch videos and stuff."

"Oh," I said, as if I didn't regularly make the Internet my bitch. "That sounds neat."

I stopped myself from explaining that I'd been there for the beginning of YouTube and knew more than she did about it nyah nyah nyah, because sometimes, not very often, but SOMETIMES, I do actually remember that I'm the adult.

boys have a penis, girls have a vagiiiiiina

Heidi once told me that she doesn't understand how I can go on and on about wanting to dropkick small children and yet I volunteer with children, both large and small. But the thing is, I feel the same way about children as I do about people. Some would say children ARE people. I, however, remain unconvinced. I think people in general are assholes, YET there are individuals that I love, love, love with all my heart and I would willingly give them all of my internal organs, you know, if I didn't need those to live and everything. Same goes for children. As a whole, they are messy and they fart a lot and they are loud. Oh, are they ever loud. But children on an individual basis? These I can handle. Once I know their names, they are as precious to me as . . . I don't know, something really precious.

I mean, what ELSE but precious could I consider a 5-year-old girl, one who had been clinging to me ever since her grandmother dropped her off, who says things like this:

"Sometimes? My brother kicks me in the nut."

Now. We are supposed to repeat a lot of what the kids say, because it shows them that we're listening, and as I said, "Oh? He kicks you in the nut?" and she nodded and said, "IN THE NUT," and I repeated, "Oh, he kicks you in THE NUT," I began to wonder if last night would finally be the night they'd ask me to leave and never, ever return.

_____

Today on The Collective, F. Scott Fitzgerald makes Kat swoon so hard she'll NEVER. FULLY. RECOVER.