Charlie Bucket was the luckiest boy in the entire world. He just didn't know it yet.

I give up. Every Sunday night I try to go to bed at a (somewhat) reasonable hour, and every Sunday night I lie there, staring at the ceiling and wishing I was asleep. Last night, I tried so hard, you guys! That's a lie. I was watching Willy Wonka (the new one) on TV. Even though I prefer the old one, that doesn't mean I'm gonna just TURN OFF THE TV when there are Oompa Loompa shenanigans to watch. That's crazy talk.

Hey! How about a Conversation With My Roommate? Sound good? I don't care!

Me: Why are there starving Africans on the front of the coupons this week?
Heidi: They're not starving, they're drinking Pur water.
Me: I didn't realize starving Africans were so into name brands.
Heidi: Duh. Anyway, those aren't starving Africans. That baby is Angelina Jolie's kid.
Me: WOW. I can't talk to you anymore.

LATER

Heidi: Guess what I watched earlier?
Me: What?
Heidi: The Prince and Me.
Me: . . .
Heidi: 2.
Me: Oh my god.
Heidi: I know.
Me: It was bad enough before you added the 2.
Heidi: Yeah, well.
Me: It's OK, I watched part of The Cutting Edge 3 the other day.
Heidi: Wow.
Me: I know.

I forgot to tell you guys this, and I can't believe I did because it was HILARIOUS. Saturday night, we were standing outside (next to a sex shop, no less), waiting to get into Bogarts and this guy was going down the line asking for change. He's not important, though. I'm not sure why I even told you about him. Forget I said anything. Anyway, there was another guy in a wheelchair and he has a sign that said, "Give me some change or I'll kick you in the face," and at first I was like, "well, that's rude," but it turns out he didn't have any legs.

And now for some sad news. Remember a long time ago when I bought all that crap at Target that had The Office all over it? Here. Let me show you it. Well. They frisked us as we went into Bogarts (I felt violated) and then this lady went through my purse. She found a pen and she was like, "you can take this back to your car or we can throw it away." At first I was all, "throw it away," but then I saw it was my Michael Scott pen and I had to think about it. In the end, I told her to throw it away because the car was far away and I just wanted to go inside and get a beer and see Spoon. I cried a little. On the inside, though, where no one can see your tears. Apparently you can use a pen as a weapon, I guess, which I wasn't aware of. Until this (tall) douchebag in front of me started dancing around bumping into people and then I realized if I had my pen I probably would have stabbed him in the neck. So really that lady who threw my pen away saved me from 7-10 years in prison. Thanks, lady.

I hope Heaven is an indie rock concert

Only not really, because at concerts there are all these people invading my personal space. Apparently, they don't all know that I have an invisible bubble around me and the only people that can come in are the people I personally invite.

Also. Dear Tall People, please stop standing directly in front of me. Did you notice that I'm about a foot shorter than you are? All I want to do is catch the occasional glimpse of the stage, but I can't see through your gigantic head. Move. MOVE. Please?

I came up with this idea last night that since I'm only 5'2, I should be allowed to stand on a stool all night that will bring me up to average height, which is what? 5'6? Or something? I don't know. I feel really claustrophobic in situations like crowded concerts. I've tried to explain this to people, but I don't think they get it. See, when I'm in a big crowd and there are people all around me and they're all taller than I am? I feel like I can't breathe because the tall people are stealing all the air. Also, I'm kind of afraid of getting trampled. The good part about being short in these situations? You can usually wind your way through a crowd pretty quickly by like ducking under elbows and stuff. I realize I'm making it sound like I'm only three feet tall and I know this isn't the case, but sometimes it feels like that, OK? OK.

Anyway, there were no mishaps at the concert, so I didn't have to break onto Spoon's tour bus or anything. Everything was SO GOOD, you guys, from the White Rabbits to The Walkmen to Spoon's double encore, my heart was so happy.

I guess my heart is still happy (just sleepy) because the sun is out and it's warm enough for just a t-shirt and Lord knows I have enough t-shirts to last about 100 warm days. Heidi and I had waffles for breakfast and we're headed to Cox (hee) Arboretum soon. I think it's gonna be a good day.

Your dentist’s name is Crentist?

Yesterday, Heidi went to the dentist for the first time. Not the first time ever, because . . . gross. But for the first time with this dentist. This particular dentist is also my dentist and he has known me since I was but a wee, little girl with wee, little teeth. He is the best dentist ever in the history of the world. Anyway, I emailed Heidi IMMEDIATELY to see how it went, because . . . work is boring? Yes, it is. And now! Conversations with my Roommate! Email edition!

Me: How was the dentist?

Heidi: The dentist was magical . . . you are a legend there. They all thought you were sweet and nice?!?! Wow, you have them fooled! I have to go back to have my jaw checked out. It clicks and pops when I chew so I have to have something made for my mouth.

Me: I am sweet and nice! Maybe your jaw wouldn’t click and pop if you’d stop with all the BJs.

Heidi: Haha, but I just can't stop!

Me: I understand. That's how I feel about crack.

Anyway, so I'm pretty sure I proved Heidi's point.

Oh, believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed.

It is a truth universally acknowledged (hahahaha, OK, I'll stop), that I often say things I probably shouldn't. At least not in public. Or in front of anyone who doesn't know me pretty well. Saturday night I made an abortion joke that I'm not particularly proud of, but mostly just because it wasn't MY joke. I stole it from the Internets. And, I mean, people laughed but first they were like, " . . . ooooooooh." And, you know, last night, as Heidi and I got in her car to go to the gym, there was this exchange:

Me: Ahhhh, it's so cold.
Heidi: I know.
Me: I'm going to use my towel for warmth.
Heidi: Haha.
Me: I'll just cover my legs up like FDR.
Heidi: OH MY GOD.
Me: What?
Heidi: Hahaha, you're all, "I'll cover my legs up like a cripple."
Me: Not a cripple. FDR.
Heidi: Um.

I don't mean anything by it. Not really. Someone has to say something inappropriate and it might as well be me. Like, for instance, do you ever eat asparagus and then forget you ate asparagus and then the first time you go to the bathroom, there's this brief, terrifying moment where you think something is terribly, terribly wrong? No? Just me? OK, then, glad I shared.

I have good news for people within earshot, though.

Me: I hate this fax machine so hard.
Coworker: Oh my gosh, you're losing your voice.
Me: Um, yeah, I guess.
Coworker: Your voice kind of cracked and faded out there.
Me: Nah, I'm just going through puberty.
Coworker: What'd you say?

Too bad for the rest of you. I can still type SPEEDY QUICK. Mwahaha!

I don't know.

_____

Today on The Collective, Kat tells why you should like water (and therefore BOOZE).

lacking active conscious knowledge or awareness

Last night, Heidi and I were talking about the Springfield Mall. I don't know why. I worked there my junior year of college because it's like five minutes away from campus. I worked at Vitamin World. It was as glamorous as you can imagine. Anyway, I'm not sure how we got to talking about that mall, but who cares because CONVERSATION WITH MY ROOMMATE:

Me: That was such a good job. We were only busy on like two days of the month when we had a giant sale, but other than that hardly anyone came in.
Heidi: Oh really? [what she should have said: Jennie, you are boring, shut up]
Me: Yeah. This one guy? He worked at Lazarus. And he'd come in every night and buy one of those gross protein bars.
Heidi: Haha. Ew.
Me: This one night he came in and I was working alone and he handed me this wad of cash but didn't wait for his change. And when I looked down, there was a slip of paper with the money and it had a phone number on it.
Heidi: Oooh!
Me: Heh, yeah, wait. Anyway, when I saw it, I was like, "Weird! This piece of paper has a phone number on it. I wonder why? Oh well," and then I threw it away.
Heidi: You did not.
Me: I did. And it wasn't until I was telling the story to someone later that they were all, "Jennie, he gave you his phone number. And you threw it away."
Heidi: Wow.
Me: I know. I am an asshole. But it didn't even occur to me! I just thought he handed me garbage!
Heidi: Was he cute?
Me: Yes.
Heidi: You are so special.
Me: Tell me about it.
Heidi: And this is why Jennie is single.
Me: Seriously, though.

Also, this one time an old man came in and hit on me for like an hour. He was wearing a cowboy hat and boots, eating an ice cream cone, and was shorter than I am. I turned down his offer (several times) but sadly, this is how obvious men have to be before I realize that they might like me. I mostly wander through the world with my head in the clouds, so not only do I run into stuff all the time, I am pretty much oblivious to things that may seem obvious to everyone else. Lazarus boy, if you're out there, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings. I thought you were very cute and totally would have let you buy me dinner, and not just because I was in college and poor.

If I run uphill I'm outta breath, if I spend all of my money, then I've got no money left. If I place all of my chips on only one bet, I'm all in.

Good morning, Internets. How is everyone this morning? I woke up and my room was FREEZING. FREE-ZING. I slept with my window wide open last night and apparently it snowed or something because my room felt like an icebox. I had to put pants on, it was so cold. I mean, I was already wearing shorts. But I had to dig my pajama pants out of the drawer. That's how cold it was. Oh my god. This is so boring I want to jump out the window.

[sidebar: this is going to be a long one (that's what she said) so good luck making it all the way through . . . do you have some water? a map? mind-altering drugs? good]

Anyway, so that's why I'm drinking coffee right now. Well, that and coffee is my bitch mistress lover. I don't know. Also, I'm drinking it out of this:


Siiiiiiiigh. Yeah, um, I'm pretty happy I can drink out of it at home because I can't take it to work and I'd hate for that $1 to go to waste. Here is why I cannot take it to work. The head of our IT department is named Jim and he would tease me mercilessly if he saw that sitting on my desk. Although, he pretty much teases me mercilessly anyway, so maybe it wouldn't matter all that much. Eh. Whatever.

Last night, I went running and a turkey buzzard DIVEBOMBED MY HEAD! I thought I was going to die. Seriously, it was like half my size and it could fly so I think it had the advantage. I'm not sure why it divebombed my head. Maybe it thought I was a squirrel? But I'm pretty sure turkey buzzards only eat dead animals. Oh my god, you guys, do I look like a dead squirrel? You'd tell me if I looked like a dead squirrel, right? Anyway, then a couple of blocks later I almost got hit by a police car because I didn't look before I crossed the street and also I can't hear cars when I'm running on account of the loud music blasting in my ears. But if you're going to get hit by a vehicle and it's NOT an ambulance, I really think a police car is the way to go.

SO! Internets. Spoon is coming to Cincinnati soon and I knew this a couple of weeks ago but I talked myself out of going because Heidi and I have to get up early the next morning and drive to Cleveland for another freaking wedding and I thought it'd be irresponsible to go to a concert and come home late the night before but then I realized I DON'T CARE because GODDAMMIT, I'M ONLY 25 AND I'LL DO WHAT I WANT AND WHAT I WANT TO DO IS GO SEE SPOON IN CINCINNATI, SLEEP BE DAMNED! DAMNED, I SAY! Ahem. Anyway. So I'm going to that. The best part is, I don't have to go by myself because Three-hole-punch Steve likes Spoon, too, and I might even be able to talk Heidi into going if I tell her she'll get to make Spoon and Fork and Knife jokes all night. Spoon! Heidi makes fun of all the music I like. See:

Heidi: What CD do you have there?
Me: Shiny Toy Guns.
Heidi: Your music is so violent.
Me: No, it's not.
Heidi: Yes, it is. Shiny Toy Guns are dangerous.
Me: They're toys. And what about The Postal Service. That's not dangerous.
Heidi: Yeah-huh, cause Shiny Toy Guns are what The Postal Service uses to shoot people when they go crazy.
Me: Oh yeah? How about Rilo Kiley? Do something with that I DARE YOU.
Heidi: OK, fine.
Me: Hey. You know what kind of cab you'd ride in if you were a cutie?
Heidi: Heh. What?
Me: A DEATH CAB.

This took place in Target because Heidi and I like to put on short, one act plays for the other Target patrons. I think they like it. Later, we caught the tail end of The Office (not at Target) and had this conversation (with my roommate, duh):

Heidi: I haven't seen the season finale since it was on back in May.
Me: Um, yeah, me neither.
Heidi: Yeah, right. How many times have you watched it since then?
Me: I don't know. Only a couple.
Heidi: More than five times?
Me: No!
Heidi: More than four?
Me: . . .
Heidi: Ha!

And anyway, I think I accidentally lied because I may have seen it way more than five times but who can keep track of that sort of thing?

Since I've veered into conversation territory, let's just keep going, shall we? I called my mom last night because we're supposed to go to my aunt's today to have a party for my cousin. And no one ever tells me anything so I needed to know what time to be there and why were even having it in the first place. And now! CONVERSATION WITH MY MOTHER:

Mom: I got Cousin a card.
Me: A card for what?
Mom: You know, just to show our support for his decision and everything.
Me: What? What decision?
Mom: Oh, he joined the army.
Me: HE DID WHAT?!
Mom: He joined the army.
Me: IS HE RETARDED?!
Mom: Jesus, Jennie, your dad can hear you through the phone.
Me: Sorry. But seriously. What?
Mom: Yeah, your aunt isn't too happy about it, but we should be supportive.
Me: I guess. I'm glad you told me now and not tomorrow in front of everyone.
Mom: Yes, I don't think they would have appreciated your reaction.

True story. I don't ACTUALLY think my cousin is retarded for joining the army DURING WAR TIME. I gave my brain some time to think about it and my brain decided that the only reason I had that reaction was because, um, the army is dangerous? Did I mention war time? And I'm just worried. The army and I are totally fighting right now. AND I don't care if they have tanks and bazookas and nunchucks, I CAN TAKE THEM. Anyway, if you're thinking of joining the army and someone in your life calls you a retard, don't worry, it's only because they love you.

long story short (no, for real, you guys!)

Last night, I pretended to fall asleep/pass out in a guest room to avoid being asked out by someone named Scooter.

True story.

In my opinion, we don't devote nearly enough scientific research to finding a cure for jerks.

You guys, I got up so early this morning. I got up at NINE. Which, OK, is way later than I get up on any other day, but it's Saturday. Of course, I went to bed super early last night because I was tired, oh, and also really, really lame. I was watching a movie (Little Children) and almost had to stop in the middle because I kept nodding off. Not that I didn't enjoy the movie, but part of me was all, "you've read the book, this movie is happening exactly like the book did, why are you bothering to watch this?" And the answer is that I have a girl crush on Kate Winslet and would watch anything she is in. For serious. I've even seen that movie when she and her friend bash in her friend's mom's head with a rock. Weird.

So, I went and got my hair cut earlier. I think I like it, but I can't shake the suspicion that I kind of look like Susie, Calvin's nemesis from Calvin & Hobbes. However, this could be a result of me reading those books, um, all the freaking time when I was younger.

After I got MY hair cut, I went and picked up my sister because, as it turns out, she had an appointment ON THE SAME DAY, only like two hours later. I sat around with my parents, mooched a bagel and coffee, and watched something on the Discovery channel about sea otters (they fought off a CROCODILE, you guys! It was awesome!) until my sister woke up and got ready. Which she finally did. Eventually.

Me: Did you brush your hair?
Sister: YES!
Me: Oh. OK.
Dad: What difference does it make? She's on her way to get it cut.
Me: I mean, it's just all sticking up in the back.
Sister: Fine, I'll brush it again.
Mom: Don't let her cut too much of the back.
Sister: What?
Mom: It'll stick up if you do. You don't want to look like Spike Lee.
Sister: . . .
Dad: . . .
Me: Mom, Spike Lee is black and doesn't have any hair.
Mom: Oh, I meant Alfalfa.
Me: Sure, because Alfalfa . . . Spike Lee . . . totally similar.
Dad: I will look forward to seeing this on your blog later.

While I was waiting for my sister, I went to the used bookstore (books bought: Anna Karenina, Tropic of Cancer, In America) and Target to buy some floor mats for Sasha. When I was paying for my stuff, the cashier noticed that the lady in front of me had forgotten a bag. I grabbed my bags and walked quickly out to the parking lot. I saw the lady getting into her car so I ran over and started waving. I wonder what she thought I was doing at first? I mean, I doubt her first thought was "oh god, this crazy girl in the Dunder-Mifflin t-shirt and flip flops who looks like Susie Derkins is going to mug me!" so who knows what she thought I was going to do.

"Ma'am, I think you were in front of me in line in there and you forgot a bag," is what I said. Then I noticed a cashier walking up behind me with her bag. The lady thanked me, the cashier thanked me, and I no problemed them because seriously? It was mostly on the way to my car anyway. And also I'm trying this new thing where instead of acting like an asshole all the time, I do nice things for people. That never turns out bad, right? Except for that Haley Joel Osment movie. That was complete crap.

and all the girlies say I'm pretty fly for a white guy

So, this might surprise a lot of my long-time readers (all five of you) and most of the people who know me in real life (um . . . the rest of you), but I am like the nicest person alive when I'm at work. I think it's because I'm getting paid to be nice. I find it easier to smile if someone is giving me money for it. Maybe easier is the wrong word. Anyway, so at work I'm totally nice and a model employee. This comes in handy when I have to deal with some of the assholes who come into our office. Did I say assholes? I meant patients (no, I didn't).

However, we do have some people that come in that are nicer for free (!) than I'd be for a hundred million dollars. So, I feel like I have to be extra nice to them. This one lady came in yesterday and gave me a box of chocolate JUST BECAUSE I'M NICE TO HER and also a card that says nicer things about me than I deserve. Thank you, nice lady! This is better than the time that little girl gave me a picture of Dora The Explorer! I also get to have conversations with nice, tiny children that go something like this:

Tiny Child: Guess how old I am?
Me: Seventeen?
Tiny Child: Nooooo.
Me: Fifty-eight?
Tiny Child: Nooo!
Me: One and a half?
Tiny Child: No!
Me: OK, how old are you?
Tiny Child: This many!
Me: Four fingers?! Wow!
Tiny Child: I know.

OK. Why does Phoebe always wait to poo in her litter box until I get home from work? And then she doesn't cover it up (why, CAT, why???) and it's not like cat poo smells like roses. It doesn't. It smells like human poo, only worse.

You guys know how I got called for jury duty? Heh, duty. Well, I was talking to my mom today and it turns out SHE got called for jury duty the same day I did. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "No! Way! Jennie, what forces of the universe had to collide to bring forth this inconceivable turn of events?" And I say to you this! Seriously? How the hell should I know? I know not of how possible jurors are chosen, all I know is that I AM THE CHOSEN ONE.

Also, so is my mom.

Anyway, I'm glad I'll at least have someone to talk to, but my mom being there does lower the chances of me meeting my soulmate, aka Rich, Fancy Lawyer Who Will Buy Me Things. Seriously. I need a sugar daddy (not the candy) in the worst way.