Here’s some money. Go see a Star War.

Ever since January 1st, well, really January 2nd (when the hangover wore off), Heidi and I have been trying to eat well and start working out again. It's been going well, I suppose, and SURE, it's only been like two weeks but WHATEVER.

Part of the reason for this new healthy lifestyle is because I have to wear a bridesmaid's dress in May but mostly? It's because I feel so much better when I don't eat shit all the time. And by shit I don't mean like, SHIT SHIT, but like, you know, bad food that is . . . bad for you. Plus? I feel morally superior to the people at work when I'm eating my carrots and turkey sandwich and they're scarfing down McDonald's. What can I say? I'm an asshole, but I know how to make it work for me.

I've made a few exceptions. I haven't cut alcohol out of my diet, because honestly? I'd rather drink than eat, thank you very much, unless we're talking about cheesecake, in which case POUR SOME RUM ON THAT SUCKER AND LET'S FLAMBE THE SHIT OUT OF IT AND ALSO PASS THE FORK. Um. Right, so anyway, it was also decided last Saturday that Wendy's doesn't count as fast food when you're hungover. For real, though, it was an emergency.

This morning I was listening to my favorite radio station in the whole wide world and after playing The One I Love, the DJ was like, "That was R.E.M. When I was in school, I learned that R.E.M stands for Rapid Eye Movement," and I don't know why, but that made me laugh so hard that I almost drove my car off the road. Which would have been sort of OK, because it means I wouldn't be at work today (I mean, it's not like I would have WALKED the rest of the way) but it also means, you know, my car would be stuck on the side of the road. And I'd like to avoid that, if at all possible, OK? Good talk.

_____

Today on The Collective, give us some book recommendations. Please?

Yeah, there were horses, and a man on fire, and I killed a guy with a trident.

Yesterday, I spent the majority of the morning and early afternoon arguing with myself. It went something like this:

Me: You should go running.
Me: I don't want to.
Me: But the race is on Thursday!
Me: Like skipping one day of running is going to matter.
Me: GET UP, FATTY!

So, I finally guilted myself into going running, even though it was -20 degrees outside (no, it wasn't) and all this running has made my knees age like 80 years. And while I was out running, I decided that HEY! wouldn't it be funny to run to mom and dad's house? HILARIOUS! If by hilarious you mean mildly amusing but not even. Do you find it strange that I live within running distance of my parents' house? Well, I do. Although, if Forrest Gump taught us anything, it's that ANYWHERE is within running distance. Except somewhere that's across the ocean. BUT I suppose you could build a raft and sail it across the ocean and run in place or something the whole time, but that seems a little illogical. So don't do that, OK? I don't want you to get eaten by a shark or a whale or the Loch Ness Monster. I'm just kidding. Nessie would never eat anyone. Oh my god.

ANYWAY. I ran to my parents' house to say hi and it was a huge, huge mistake. Not because I don't like seeing my parents (because, hi, my parents are awesome), but because I shouldn't have stopped. When I went back outside to run home, I so didn't want to. But I did. Sigh. Wow, good story, Jennie. TELL IT AGAIN.

This morning, when my alarm went off, the DJs were doing the weather forecast for the week. I got all excited when they started talking about a warm front coming in. SIXTY DEGREE WEATHER, PEOPLE! IN NOVEMBER! But, unfortunately, the warm front is only staying until Wednesday and it's supposed to be really cold and rainy and disgusting by Thursday morning JUST IN TIME FOR THE RACE. Now. THAT is hilarious. Caps lock off.

shotgun BANG what's up with that thang?

I'm going to talk about the gym now. Because my life is so boring that I have nothing better to talk about. I have a bone to pick with our gym. They keep playing these crappy teenybopper movies and I'm getting SO SICK OF THEM. One night? They were playing A Cinderella Story. Last night? She's the Man. Tonight? I forget the name of it, but it's that movie with Hilary Duff and Big and Heather Locklear and it's actually not that bad, but I don't want to watch it at the gym, you know?

She's the Man just MIGHT be the worst movie I have ever seen. And I didn't even watch all of it. Thank god. I might have died. Because I would have thrown myself under the treadmill. Would that kill you, do you think? Anyway. Amanda Bynes is terrible. Just terrible. Although, if I go in tomorrow and they're playing What a Girl Wants, I'll be OK with it but only because Colin Firth is in it. Mr. Darcy makes everything better. Oh hush, I know he's not Mr. Darcy in that movie, but if I listen to my mp3 player while watching it, I can pretend he is.

So tonight I got on the elliptical and did a bit of warm up, but I thought the resistance on the machine seemed a little weird. Like . . . grindy. I don't know. Most of the machines were empty because, um, they were playing a Hilary Duff movie, so I got on the elliptical next to me. I wasn't on it more than a minute when I noticed it was making this loud, obnoxious squeaking noise with every rotation. I could even hear it over The Fratellis. Yes, I was listening to music while watching the movie. Did you not hear me? Hilary Duff. Enough said. Finally, after I'd had enough squeaking, I got on a third machine. And that one was juuuust right. You know, I always hated Goldilocks when I was a kid. What a whore. I'd be so pissed if some bitch came in and ate all my porridge (I mean, theoretically, because I don't think I even like porridge) AND she broke a bunch of furniture. She broke a chair, right? And one of the beds? Did the bears eat her in the end, because they totally should have.

The word you're looking for is . . . ANYWAY (trademark: Ross Geller). I'm not sure if all this extra gym time is even working. I can't tell a difference. Maybe my insides are totally healthy now. My heart is all buff and showing off for the other organs. And bragging about how many ladies he's gonna score (apparently my heart is a man? That explains a lot) and making my liver feel like shit because of how badly I treat it. Poor liver. You never stood a chance.

First of all, that was not a non sequitur. A non sequitur would have been: we've lost 3400 troops in Iraq, do you consider a unicycle furniture?

This was like the BEST. WEEK. EVER. For The Daily Show, anyway. I mean, OK, yeah . . . I don't remember who the guests were on Monday and Wednesday. Wednesday's guest was some dude who wrote a book that actually sounded sort of interesting. But I can't remember the name of it. Oh well. ANYWAY. Tuesday's guest was Paul Rudd and Thursday's (which I just watched) was Eddie Izzard. If Paul Rudd is the perfect man then Eddie Izzard is the perfect . . . um, executive transvestite. Is he still an executive transvestite? Every time I see him on a talk show he's just wearing a suit or something. And not even a woman's suit! Has he given up the running, jumping, climbing trees? I have just one more question: cake or death?

I got up early this morning. Well, earlier than I normally do on a Saturday. Probably because I went to bed really early last night because . . . um, I'm a loser? Seriously, I was in bed reading at 11:00. Also? I somehow broke the remote to the TV in my bedroom. OK, see, here's the thing. This remote is some kind of crazy universal remote that doesn't even go to this TV. The real remote broke and I have no idea where it is. So the other night I accidentally pushed a button I'd never pushed before and this lady's voice screeched out of the remote all, "SAY. A WORD." It was so weird. At first I thought I was going crazy because, um, I was hearing voices, but Heidi said she heard it, too. That is how loud the lady is! Heidi could hear her from the OTHER ROOM. Anyway, so now none of the buttons on the remote are working and I don't know how to fix it. Suggestions?

OK, and also? I seem to have really bad luck with electrical appliances. I've broken two coffee makers, at least three computer monitors, a CD player, a printer, at my old job they had to replace my computer twice, and freshman year I bought numerous remotes for my TV. I had to buy a new one because I lost the original one but I think what really happened was my roommate accidentally threw it away or something. I kept buying new remotes and THEY KEPT BREAKING. I swear, I am not doing anything to these appliances to make them just STOP working. I like to think that it's not my ineptitude with all things electrical, it's that I have some untapped superpower that I don't know how to control yet. That, you know, only affects electrical appliances. You just wait, one day I will totally be one of the X-Men. I can't wait to hang out with Hugh Jackman. Score!

Last night, Heidi and I were good and went to the gym and so what did we have for dinner afterward? Taco Bell. My stomach still hurts. The only reason we got it was because a) we did not feel like cooking and b) it's super cheap. AND NOW. I BRING YOU. Conversations With My Roommate: Taco Bell Edition.

Me: Sometimes I can't believe how I will go out in public.
Heidi: Me either. I mean, look at us.
Me: Seriously. But, have you seen some of the other people in this city?
Heidi: I know.
Me: So. Classy.
Heidi: It's true.
Me: Like the ladies in front of us?
Heidi: Hahahaha. I like how they have a pipe on top of their van.
Me: Haha, yeah.
Heidi: They're all, "we're going to check out some plumbing later."
Me: Ha, yeah, and then they're going to check out each other's plumbing!
Heidi: Wow.

Heidi: I made friends with the Taco Bell order taker guy.
Me: I know. He wants you.
Heidi: He's totally going to put extra beef in my quesadilla.
Me: Oh my god.
Heidi: What have you done to me?
Me: Me?
Heidi: You're a bad influence on me.
Me: That is unfair! Who do I get to blame?
Heidi: Let's go with your parents.
Me: OK.
Heidi: After all, they raised you to be this way.
Me: Sure, we'll go with that.

Me: The charity at work is collecting books for Books for Soldiers.
Heidi: That's cool.
Me: Yeah, I think it's something I can get behind.
Heidi: OK.
Me: I mean, I like books. I like soldiers.
Heidi: Yeah ya do!
Me: I walked right into that one.

Heidi: Look at that cloud over there! It has a hole in it.
Me: Where?
Heidi: Or is there just a dark cloud in front of it?
Me: Yeah, it's just a little dark cloud.
Heidi: Bummer.
Me: I know, otherwise it would have looked like a butt. With a butt hole.
Heidi: Haha, OK.
Me: Or a vagina.
Heidi: . . .
Me: With a vagina hole.
Heidi: Seriously?
Me: I don't know.
Heidi: Wow.
Me: You're the one who wanted the Taco Bell guy to put extra beef in your taco!
Heidi: Quesadilla. Not taco. Quesadilla.
Me: Heh, beef in your taco.
Heidi: No, really, what is wrong with you?

I don't even know where to begin with that question. Oh, and I would feel really bad if I didn't remind you guys that today is 6/9. Hey, maybe that explains this post! Yeah, we'll go with that.

Dear Diary,

I've decided to pretend I am writing in a secret diary. No, I'm totally kidding. Do you realize what kind of stuff I would tell a secret diary? Well, think of what I tell you guys. Then times it by 100. I have no idea what that means, but I think it means my secret diary would be a lot like the insides of my brain and no one should have to deal with that but me. I have a hard enough time dealing with the insides of my brain all day every day.

Did you know you can listen to My Favorite Radio Station In The History Of Radio Stations online? Only I can't at work because the entire website is BLOCKED. BLOCKED just like Facebook and Myspace. OR YOUTUBE! I work for a bunch of FASCISTS!

I'm just kidding. Please don't fire me. But can I please please please listen to My Favorite Radio Station In The History Of Radio Stations? Please? I'll do (almost) anything! And admit it, you're getting sick of hearing the same CDs all the time.

Earlier today, I e-mailed Heidi and asked her to say something really mean to me so I would go to the gym tonight. And she did! It's only fair, I mean, I threaten to dump water on her head if she tries to stay home from the gym. It's true. It's happened twice, which is almost a pattern.

So. I haven't gone to the gym yet. I'm wearing my gym clothes. Red shorts! And a t-shirt! That says D.A.R.E. on it. Hahahahaha. D.A.R.E. It stands for don't drink or do drugs or something, only not those words because that doesn't make sense. Sometimes we would have D.A.R.E. programs in elementary school. The best one was at the end of the year, when Kettering cops would come in and hold a concert because they were a ROCK BAND called "The Coppers." Believe me, if you were in 4th grade you would totally think it was cool. Anyway. I fully intend to go to the gym in just a little while. The thing is, I just ate dinner and the last time I went to work out right after dinner I almost threw up all over the entire Cardio Cinema. Which I don't think they would like. BUT. I'll tell you one thing. If I go in there tonight and they are playing another sad movie (last night? Stepmom. STEPMOM! That looks weird. You can't really yell in italics), I am going to throw up just to prove a point and that point is don't show sad movies in the Cardio Cinema or Jennie will throw up on you.

Would you like proof that I am very simple and easily pleased? After dinner, I had a piece of bread with butter and grape jelly on it and I really don't think I could have been happier if you'd placed an entire cheesecake in front of me and told me it was from Jesus and it didn't have any calories. OK, that's a lie. I would have been happier with cheesecake. Also, everybody knows that the calories are the best part, even Jesus.

Grab that net and catch that beautiful butterfly, pal! What do you like better, Christmas or Wedding Season?

You guys remember how I got my hair cut on Saturday? Well, I got my hair cut on Saturday. And I kind of sort of liked it until I took a shower and tried to fix it myself. All was going well . . . the washing, the conditioning, the towel-drying. But then I got to the blow-drying and the brushing and whatnot and I just stared at my assortment of hair-doing tools in befuddlement (aside: Heather Anne, I think "befuddlement" should be added to the list of words we should say more). And the hairdryer, the round brush, and the flatiron just stared back all, "what, you think WE know what to do?" They were no help whatsoever! What I'm trying to say is, this morning was the first day I actually got my hair to look somewhat like what it looked like on Saturday when I left the salon. Which is good, because I was getting really really close to just shaving it all off. I suck at being a girl. SIGH.

Also, you know how it's wedding season? Well, it's wedding season. And while I will not be doing any wedding crashing (unless someone else is up for it, maybe?), I do have two weddings to go to next month. I found this 28-day workout online the other day and then realized that conveniently, I had exactly 29 days until the first wedding. I did the math and I think I have time. So all week long I have been eating super nutritiously (is that a word?) and working out every day and, Internets, my legs hurt ever so much today. Ow, for real. The worst part is that I made banana bread over the weekend and even though my tummy tried to tell me that it was totally healthy because it has fruit in it, my brain said NO! PUT IT DOWN! Every time I start to feel weak and like I want to eat 100 million pounds of chips and salsa, I pull the dress I'm wearing to the first wedding out of my closet and stare at it and think about how awful it would be to have to wear a burlap sack or garbage bag or something because I can't fit into the dress anymore. STUPID WEDDINGS! ALWAYS WITH THE MAKING ME FEEL BAD ABOUT MYSELF! Unmarried, childless, 300 pounds, and SHORT. SHORT! Just kidding, I don't really care about the first two things and I am aware that I don't really weigh 300 pounds and the short thing . . . eh, I've gotten used to climbing on counters for things on the top shelf.

Oh, you guys, Heidi and I had the BEST EVER Conversations With My Roommate last night. I feel like I should give you some kind of warning for this, but I don't know how. Oh well . . .

Me [reading sign in front of a church]: Jesus is right for whatever is wrong.
Heidi: Hmm.
Me: Anything? What about unplanned pregnancy?
Heidi: What about butt sex?
Me: Hahaha. This is total Conversations With My Roommate material.
Heidi: That's for sure.
Me: And you won't sound like Kimmie Gibbler's boyfriend this time.
Heidi: No. I don't think he ever talked about butt sex.
Me: Yeah, I don't think Full House ever had a Very Special Episode about butt sex.
Heidi: They should have, though.
Me: Totally. DJ would have gone to Danny and been all, "Dad, Steve really wants me to have butt sex."
Heidi: And Danny would be like, "Well, Deej, as long as you use some Spic & Span to clean up afterward."
Me: Hahahaha.
Heidi: And then the special music would start.
Me: The tinkly piano.
Heidi: Right, the very special butt sex episode music.
Me: I cannot believe we just had a conversation that included Jesus, Full House, and butt sex.
Heidi: It happens.

Don't say I didn't warn you. Oh wait, I didn't. In any case, I think I'm going to start tape recording Heidi and I at all times because I can never remember all of the inappropriateness. And really, conversations about butt sex deserve to be remembered properly, don't you think?

It's like that book I read in the 9th grade that said, "'tis a far far better thing doing stuff for other people."

Today when I got home from work, Phoebe scampered all around me and meowed really loud and then ran up and down the stairs a couple times and then did a few laps around the apartment and I thought it was because she was excited to see me, but it turns out she was just trying to work up a good twosie. She does this almost every day, usually waiting until I sit down to check my e mail to take a giant poo in her litter box (which is about five feet from my computer). You'd think I'd learn that the only time she is excited to see me is if her food dish is empty, but you'd be wrong.

Yesterday I got the Girl Scout cookies I'd completely forgotten I'd ordered. In the past two days I have eaten approximately 10.8 million thin mints. I have been sitting here for the past twenty minutes trying to work up the motivation to go to the gym WHILE EATING THIN MINTS. The fat girl inside of me is out of control. I briefly considered eating the rest of the Girl Scout cookies left in the apartment but didn't because A) I already feel like I'm going to throw up, B) I think they frown upon throwing up on the elliptical at the gym, and C) Heidi would kill me. You wanna know what else? America's Next Top Model is starting RIGHT NOW and I can't watch it because A) It's TiVoing, B) I hate watching commercials because TiVo has spoiled me forever, and C) Heidi would kill me. Because she's not home and I'm pretty sure if I went ahead and gorged myself on both Girl Scout cookies AND Miss Tyra AND Nigel Barker AND Mr. Jay without her? She would never forgive me.

Today on the way home from work I drove past some guy who was flossing while driving. That is something I've never seen before. For realsies. This entry sucks and I apologize. I'll try to think of some way to make it up to you. Any suggestions? Do you like thin mints*?

*TOO BAD YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM

Conversation With My Roommate: Fatty McGee Edition

Last night

Me: Would you judge me if I had a piece of cake right now?
Heidi: No.
Me: Good, cause I'm having one.
Heidi: OK.
Me: I need something sweet.
Heidi: OK, I'm having some cake, too.

Later

Me: I'm going to throw up.
Heidi: So, here's what we had to eat tonight . . .
Me: Don't remind me.
Heidi: French fries . . . cheesy brauts . . . a pickle
Me: Uhhhhhh
Heidi: Cheese dip and tortilla chips.
Me: Stop.
Heidi: And cake.
Me: You know, if I wasn't on my period right now I'd be worried I was pregnant.
Heidi: Me too.
Me: I think we fell off the wagon and it rolled over us a few times.
Heidi: Yeah, well, I think it's parked on top of me.

Tonight, on the phone

Me: I'm going to Kroger later, do we need anything?
Heidi: Why are you going to Kroger?
Me: To buy pizza for dinner.
Heidi: Yum!
Me: I've decided to fall off the wagon again tonight.
Heidi: OK. Can you pick up some chicken breasts on your way off? Meijer didn't have any.
Me: Sure. Oh, and I'm also not going to the gym tonight.
Heidi: OK.
Me: Cause I'm not gonna get home til 7:30, and I'm tired, and I'm hungry, and I have to work tomorrow so I am throwing a tantrum!
Heidi: Sounds good.
Me: What are you and Nick doing tonight?
Heidi: Well, tomorrow night would you rather go bowling or go to a comedy club?
Me: Duh, comedy club.
Heidi: OK, then I'll try to talk Nick into bowling tonight.
Me: Awesome.
Heidi: Indeed.
Me: Tell Nick that [name redacted] and [name redacted] say hi.
Heidi: Oh, are they with you?
Me: Oh, yeah, I invited them over later for a threesome.
Heidi: Nice. You are covering a lot of ground there.
Me: It's true. And I think Nick would want to know.
Heidi: Hey, you're just doing your part to support the troops.
Me: If only more Americans were like me.
Heidi: Exactly.

Can you believe I have to work tomorrow? On Saturday! Seriously!