Liz Lemon! You booger face!

Friday (TV) confessions because WHY NOT:

1. I was pretty hysterical during the end of 30 Rock last night. Like, laughing and crying at the same time. A laugh-cry noise is really weird, btw. I honestly didn't know I was still that attached to the show, having watched only sporadically last season, but this last season was great and YOU GUYS I JUST LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH.

2. Speaking of 30 Rock, remember the nightcheese? Of course you do. For a really long time, I didn't know about the song "Night Moves" and thought Liz Lemon was just singing a happy song about cheese. WHAT OF IT.



3. I've watched the most recent episode of The New Girl three times this week. So far. I might watch it some more, who knows? I don't remember being this excited about two fictional characters making out since Pam and Jim but there's a slight difference, because I don't really care if Nick and Jess get together but, at the time of all the Pam and Jim shenanigans, I felt like my whole identity was tied into whether Pam and Jim got together. I'm sure this was in no small part due to me having a crush on a friend which led me to be all, "Well, if Pam and Jim ever get together and it doesn't ruin their friendship, then I can probably make out with my friend and it'll all work out, too." And things DID work out eventually, just not with that guy, and THAT'S WHAT IS AWESOME ABOUT LIFE YOU GUYS YOU JUST NEVER KNOW WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN.

4. Ahem. Speaking of The Office, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH BRIAN THE BOOM MIKE GUY? WHY ARE THEY MAKING JIM THE WORST? WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS IN THE LAST SEASON? IT IS GIVING ME HURTY-TUMMY FEELINGS. To be honest, I haven't really given any fucks about Jim and Pam since, well, probably since they had a baby (sorry, Cece) and then another baby (sorry...other baby), but I guess all it took for my fucks to return was the threat of a hot, bearded, boom mike operator. GO AWAY BRIAN EVEN THOUGH I DO FIND YOU VERY HANDSOME AND HOPE YOU GET A JOB ON ANOTHER SHOW SOMETIME OK BYE.

5. Last night, I had a dream about Community, probably because I'm so excited about it coming back next week (!!!) and it was like an actual episode, with a plot and all the characters and everything, and they were all writing a play about Pilgrims or the Civil War or some old historical shit like that and Jeff forgot to put any women characters in the play, so Annie was playing, like, a bear and she and Britta were yelling at Jeff about feminism, all while Annie was wearing a bear costume, and then later Annie (minus bear costume) and Jeff were about to make out but Dean Pelton ran in the room and interrupted them and THAT IS NOT COOL, DEAN, GO AWAY. Oh, so remember when I said I haven't been excited about two characters making out since Pam and Jim? Well, I sort of take that back because I really want Jeff and Annie to make out, like, all the time and not just in parallel timeline circumstances. Anyway, I guess my brain is just writing Community fanfic in my dreams now again, which is cool. Cool cool cool.

ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD

Sometimes I think about quitting the internet. Not all of it, of course, because I would miss you guys. But I think about quitting stuff like Facebook and Twitter. And not JUST because of how much time I spend, well, wasting time, but because I’m pretty sure they are actively making me stupider, which I think we’ll all agree I can hardly afford. I actually told someone the other day that I’d been thinking about giving up my smartphone. I love being connected to everything but if I had a problem before I had a smartphone, I’d try to actually THINK of a solution and now I just Google it.

I’d want everyone else to give up Facebook and Twitter and smartphones with me, though. It wouldn’t work if it was just me because everyone would still be busy composing 140 characters of cleverness all the time. The thing is, I miss the blogosphere as it once once. Before you had to brand yourself in order to have any kind of blogging success. Hell, before there was such a thing as blogging success. I miss people blogging daily (or at least almost daily) about absolutely nothing at all. I miss Greader as it used to be, a place to post and comment and gather and waste time, but, you know, waste time in a good way.

I even miss the time before Greader! Remember that? I used to have all of my favorite blogs blogrolled (OMG REMEMBER THAT) on my blog sidebar, and I’d click on every blog at least once a day to see if anyone had updated. Now it’s too easy. Greader does all my work for me, which is nice and all, but even reading blogs is making me lazier and I don't really need help with that.

Nothing stays the same, especially not the internet, but I do miss the way the blogging community was when I first started out. The excitement of finding a great new blog or someone new commenting on your own is still there but it’s getting harder to chase that feeling. There are so many stuff-specific blogs. Food blogs and fashion blogs and fitness blogs (OH MY!) but where are the people who used to just write stories about their general life business? They’re still out there, I know, but most of my favorites either don’t post anymore or they don’t post with the frequency they once did. WHY CAN’T EVERYTHING JUST STAY THE SAME ALWAYS, UUUUUGH.

That’s not to say things are necessarily any better or worse now. They’re just different. In a way, I love the closeness (real or imagined) that things like Facebook and Twitter allow us. Instead of waiting a day (or longer) for someone to update their blog, I know what’s going on immediately, provided said person is an avid FB/Twitter updater (but that’s a whole nother story). I’m sure the constant influx of information is giving us all collective ADD but at least we won’t ever miss anything. Perish the thought! And all other thoughts. You don’t need them anymore. The internet will think for us.

LOST! (this is full of spoilers, READER BEWARE)

OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS! Ahem. Oh my god, you guys! Lost . . . I just . . . I have no words.

OK, just kidding, I have all sorts of words. Lost blew my mind twice last night (slut) and THEN made me sob and sob like a little baby who lost its mom at the mall and also someone stole its cookie. And it was a giant, soft chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven. You know, when the chips are still all melty? So you KNOW that baby is upset. And so was I. Truth.

As soon as "Johnson" (was that his name?) started walking toward Sayid, Desmond,* and the weirdo doctor with the CRAZY EYES, in my head, I was all, "Oh my god . . . is that Michael? No way. I know they said he was coming back, but . . . no. No way. OH MY GOD, IT'S MICHAEL." Because, you guys! IT WAS MICHAEL! And in my head (again), I was like, "Michael," you know like how GOB says it? Like that. That's how I said it. In my head. OK, out loud.

Sidebar: I apologize to those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about. I mean, with that last paragraph alone, I've not only alienated those who don't watch Lost, but also those who don't watch Arrested Development. Although . . . if you don't watch Arrested Development, what the hell is wrong with you? /sidebar

Anyway. Can you guys believe Michael is Ben's "man on the boat?" I did not see that coming. Granted, I stopped trying to figure out what was going on on Lost a looooooong time ago, because the show is a lot more fun to watch if you just give up and think of it as pure (awesome) entertainment. I mean, the beginning of the episode was kind of ho-hum, business as usual. I was watching it in bed, all slumped against the pillows with my eyes half open. But when Michael walked into the light, I sat straight up in bed and was all, "HOLY SHIT," and then I looked around for someone to share my disbelief, but there wasn't anyone in my bedroom besides Phoebe and my own reflection in the mirror, and so I gave my reflection an air-five. It was awesome. And by awesome, I mean lame.

OK, AND THEN? There was a double whammy flashforward/flashback. WELL DONE, LOST. Seriously, kudos. And THAT is where your kudos ends, because SERIOUSLY? YOU'RE KILLING JIN? REALLY? Even as I watched Sun putting on a black dress and jewelry and she and Hurley walked into a cemetery, I was like, "no . . . they wouldn't kill Jin, NOOOOOOOOOO!" but they did. And I cried A LOT. And then I was like, "Jennie, calm down, these aren't real people," and then my reflection jumped out of the mirror and smacked me in the head. True story.

(lies)

*heh

ripping off Jane Austen, one day at a time

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that the moment you get bad news, The Universe sets out to either A) help you out a little by giving you some good news or B) DESTROY YOU.

OK, I have no idea whether or not that's a truth universally acknowledged. I just wanted to start one of my blog entries with, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that blah blah blah something something." If you know why I'd want to start an entry like that, then I love you and you know why I love you.

Anyway, if that thing I said up there IS true, then I'm certainly glad The Universe followed up my bad news with option A.

You'd better brace yourself, Internets, for I have something both shocking and sad to tell you. Bo (my aunt and uncle's cat that comes to visit sometimes; seen here) aka The Most Loving Cat In All The Land aka The Cat Phoebe Loves to Hate . . . has gone to Pet Heaven. It all happened very suddenly which is why it is SHOCKING. And it happened to the nicest cat in the world which is why it is SAD. Let's all have a moment of silence for Bo.

The Universe, however, decided to then give me good news and BOOM now my friend Mary is coming to visit this weekend! Hijinks shall ensure, don't you worry about that, and I hope the weekend will be forever immortalized. Just like last time. I'm glad I have Monday off to recuperate.

_____

Today on The Collective, I talk and talk and talk some more about the last book I read.

I'm French. Why do you think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king?

Last night was my first official night of volunteering. I was really nervous because I was afraid they'd put me with the teenagers and teenagers scare me. Mostly because they are all taller than I am but ALSO I was afraid the kids would make fun of me and laugh at me and call me names. Which . . . I know, that's stupid, but I can't help how insecure my brain is. Anyway, I needn't have worried, because no kids showed up. I was very disappointed, especially since I'd driven all the way out there to sit around some church for an hour and a half, but they said this happens every now and then, meaning it WASN'T just that all the kids heard that I was going to be there and so they stayed away.

I am still a bit surprised every time I think about how they're going to let me be in charge of a group of grieving children, especially considering that the last time one of my family members died, we had all the family over, and I didn't eat anything all day but I did consume many, many glasses of wine and also a couple of whisky sours and then I puked and puked my guts out the next day. At my mom and dad's house. CLASSY. Who has two thumbs and knows how to grieve? THIS KID. Yeah, that doesn't really work when you're not saying it out loud but just imagine that I'm pointing my thumbs at myself. Sigh.

CONVERSATION WITH MY ROOMMATE

Me: [blah blah blahing about something]
Heidi: Where'd you get that bruise on your leg?
Me: Oh, I don't know.
Heidi: Wow.
Me: But I think it might be from my desk chair at work.
Heidi: OK?
Me: Cause when I stand up, I kind of shove it out of the way with my leg and the arm of the chair hits me right there on the thigh.
Heidi: You bruise like a peach.
Me: Yeah, I also have this bruise on my arm and I have no idea where it came from.

[conversation continues but I don't remember what we were talking about and then all of the sudden Heidi starts laughing]

Heidi: I'm sorry, I just can't get over that bruise on your leg.
Me: Thanks. Thanks a lot.

I mean, to be fair, it is a pretty big bruise so I guess it's funny. Especially since I don't really know where it came from. Good times.

And since I'm not even trying to make these things make sense anymore, here is a dream I had the other night:

I was driving through a cornfield with someone and for some reason I was driving but it wasn't my car. And the worst part was, the car was a stick and I don't know how to drive a stick so I just left it in one gear and then, obviously, the car broke down because A) I wasn't switching gears, B) we were driving through a cornfield, and C) I don't think the car we were driving was designed for driving through cornfields. So after the car broke down, we got out and opened the hood and he started looking at the steaming engine and he was all, "what gear were you in?" and I was like, "First?" and he was like, "FIRST?! We were going 50 mph!" and I was all, "Yeah, but through CORN, I read somewhere that you're supposed to use first gear when driving through corn," and then he shook his head and I woke up.

That story was almost as interesting as my thigh bruise, but only almost.

you had to know that I was fond of you, fond of Y-O-U

I've noticed that I've been posting more than usual (sometimes TWICE A DAY . . . I KNOW!) and I think I know why. My deadline is on Tuesday. And I procrastinate. Meaning I have a bunch of articles to write so I've been spending even more time than usual in front of the computer. So. Basically that means if I'm not asleep I'm in front of the computer.

I've been trying to curb my procrastination tendencies by setting mini-deadlines for myself every day, so I'm not writing 20 articles on Monday night. For instance, last night I said I had to write five articles and I DID but then it turned out that I was home alone and didn't know what to do with myself. So I watched Garden State and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I love both of these movies SO SO MUCH, but they both depress the hell out of me so I don't know what possessed me to watch them one right after the other. Not smart. At all. Then again, I never claimed to be that smart so there. Those movies both make me think of things I'd rather not think about. I do a lot to distract myself from real, honest-to-god thinking, what with the gym and the part-time job and the volunteering and the mindless hours spent surfing the Internets, so when I do something that causes me to have a feeling (yuck), I spend the next couple of days trying to talk myself out of it, all "you don't feel that way . . . cut it out . . . don't be stupid . . . seriously, just stop or if you're not going to stop, at least go to the gym instead of lying in a woe-is-me fashion all over your bed." True story. I have no clue what I'm talking about but what else is new?

Right, so, I'm posting a lot because I'm in front of the computer and eventually I run out of things to read on the Internets so instead I have to write on the Internets to procrastinate. It's science. It's funny (no, it's not), but I allowed myself to skip the gym today because the logical side of my brain was all "oh, if you skip the gym, that's another hour you can spend writing," but what the logical side of my brain doesn't know is that it's not in charge.

now what?

So Harry Potter Day has come and gone. I got my copy on Saturday and finished it this morning around 12:30 because I was DETERMINED to finish it before work today, because I don't trust people not to ruin things for me. Moment-ruiners. So it's over. You may think I seem remarkably calm about it, but really in my head I'm all, "OH NOOOOOOOO WHAT AM I GONNA DO NOOOOOW HARRY POTTER IS OOOOOVEEERRRRR," and clutching my hair and clawing at my face. It's very dramatic. I wish you could see it.

Alright, I'm exaggerating. What, like you're surprised? But I am very sad that it's all over, even though I'm happy with how it ended. You know how I take TV shows too seriously? Well, I'm worse with books. Sometimes they make me cry so hard I want to put them in the freezer. Sometimes they're so good that as soon as I'm finished, I want to read it all over again. I want to be buried with a copies of Pride & Prejudice and The Catcher in the Rye. Ha! I'm totally kidding. I don't want to be buried, I want to be cremated.

Why am I talking about my funeral? Anyway, there was a tiny snag in obtaining my copy of The Deathly Hallows. I waited all morning for the UPS man to bring it to me. ALL MORNING. When it still hadn't come by noon thirty, I briefly considered driving to Books & Co. to get a copy. I even called them to see if they still had some. I talked myself out of it because, um, that would have been crazy. Finally, I decided that I couldn't justify hanging around the apartment all day and so Heidi and I went to the pool. I checked our mail before we left and LO AND BEHOLD there was a card from the postman! Saying he was sorry he missed me! But that he'd left a package in the office! That's when I remembered that when I ordered my book, I had it sent through the postal service and not UPS. Oops. Hey, I never claimed to be smart. I ran back up to our apartment, clasping the card in my hand, and jumped around shouting, "it's here, it's here, it's in the office, my book is here, my book is here" while Heidi backed away slowly from the crazy, crazy lady.

We left for the pool but as we approached the office, we saw the leasing lady driving away in a golf cart with some other people, presumably to show them an apartment. I sensed a slight hiccup in my plan, but hoped there were maybe two leasing consultants working in the office that day.

ALAS! No one was in the office when we entered. I was so close to my book. It was RIGHT THERE but no one was there to get it for me. Then I remembered. I knew they kept the packages in an unlocked closet behind an unlocked door in an unlocked room. Unlocked! I weighed my options. I could go to the pool and wait for the lady to come back from showing apartments, but that would take tens of minutes. Tens! Of! Minutes! I didn't have time to waste! I had over 700 pages to read this weekend and those tens of minutes were important!

The obvious answer was staring me in the face. I knew where my book was. Heidi would be the only witness to my crime. I wouldn't even need to use any trickery to break into the closet because it was unlocked. What would YOU have done in that situation? I'm guessing you'd do what I did, which was throw open the closet door, grab the book, and then run out to the dumpster to throw away all evidence that the book had ever arrived by mail. I mean, if Harry Potter taught me anything, it's that it's OK to bend the rules once in a while. I think even Hermione would approve.

the lotion and the powder have made a PASTE

Heidi, you may not want to read this because I am totally about to NERD OUT about Harry Potter. You have been warned.

So, there's this book coming out tomorrow. Maybe you've heard of it. It's about a brave boy wizard and his magical friends. They do magic and stuff. And fight bad guys. And two of them better make out, is all I'm saying. They go lots of places, too. Like a magical school. And this place with flying brains. And chambers with secrets in them. And this weird forest (you might even call it . . . FORBIDDEN) that you're not supposed to go into if you're a child but sometimes they do anyway because that's how they roll. Places like that. They've never gone to Planet Unicorn, but they totally should. Anyway, so this book is coming out. It's KIND OF a big deal. People keep telling me there are spoilers all over The Internets and even in the NEW YORK TIMES but luckily I get all of my news from The Daily Show so I am as of yet unspoiled. I swear to the little baby Jesus, if anyone spoils the last book for me, I will kick them so hard in the babymaker that all of their already-born babies will feel it. And if they haven't had any kids yet, then their babies in the future will be all, "ow, who kicked me?" but unless they have a time machine or wait for me to catch up to their time, they will never be able to kick me back. I think. That was sort of confusing.

I thought about maybe just locking myself in my room for the entire weekend (or LONGER). However long it takes me to finish the book, anyway. Then I remembered that I have The Internets in my room, so I could still be spoiled. So I don't know. If I haven't finished the book by the time work starts on Monday, do you think I could call in sick? I'm a fast reader, quick like a bunny, but what if someone at work got the book a couple of hours before me? And what if they're already done and they're all "ooh, what did you think of so-and-so dying?" and I'll be like "SO-AND-SO DIED?! WHY DID YOU TELL ME THAT, YOU FUCKER?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! SAY HI TO SO-AND-SO BECAUSE I AM ABOUT TO STRAIGHT UP AXE MURDER YOU!" and then I will get fired for calling my coworker a fucker. And also threatening to axe murder them. So you see my dilemma.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I have such problems, right? Anyway, don't be offended if you try to talk to me and I stick my fingers in my ears and start shouting, "I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU LA LA LA LA," just please don't throw a chicken in my face because I might poop my pants and my new years resolution was to stop doing that.

if I had a million dollars, I'd build a tree fort in our yard, if I had a million dollars, you could help, it wouldn't be that hard

Sometimes I worry that really small things can have a such a big effect on my mood. Small things like that even though I was an English major, I can never remember the difference between affect and effect. I KNOW the difference, I just always second guess myself. Other little things that can affect (ha!) my mood in good or bad ways? A phone call, an email, lack of a phone call or an email, making a tiny mistake, hearing a good song on the radio, hearing Creed on the radio (that can send me into a murderous rage), or something even less tangible, like getting good or bad news I wasn't expecting. Or, you know, someone calls me "hun" at work and I wonder how much trouble I'd get in if I kicked them square in the nuts. I spent the majority of yesterday on the verge of tears, ready to punch someone (I didn't, though, but if I had, do you think I could have blamed my uterus? Lawyers? A little help?), and didn't start to feel better until I got back from the gym last night. Now, part of this could be because, as Elle Woods says, "Exercise give you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't shoot their husbands. They just don't," and I did not even have to look that up and I don't know whether to be proud of that fact or not. Anyway, Elle Woods IS right. I always do feel better after working out. Or at least I feel less guilty about eating all the birthday cake at work but OH MY GOD why do people keep having birthdays and making me eat chocolate cake and ice cream all the time? Selfish.

Where was I? Oh yes. Sure, the exercise gave me some endorphins, so I didn't shoot my husband but I wasn't REALLY in a good mood until I walked into the kitchen and saw Heidi packing her lunch. She was putting sour cream in a Ziploc baggie because all of our tiny, plastic containers are dirty, and let me just say . . . it made me giggle a lot because a bag of sour cream looks a lot like a bag of semen which looks NOTHING like a bag of pot. True story. I have pictures. Of the sour cream! Not a bag of semen! I've never put semen in a baggie, I promise.

true story

The Conversations With My Roommate you are about to read is a bit unconventional, in that it is mostly me babbling and I think Heidi was just acting interested in the hopes that I'd eventually stop talking. HA! Like that ever happens. Anyway, we were watching Jon Stewart interview Steve Carell on The Daily Show (good times) and then this happened during the commercial break:

Me: I think Jon Stewart and Steve Carell seem like friends in real life . . . like, they probably talk on the phone for an hour every night.
Heidi: They have guy love like Turk and JD.
Me: Exactly. They love each other so much. They're all "Jon, I miss you," "I miss you, too, Steve, why did you have to go to LA?" "To follow my dreams, Jon," and then they talk about how they wish they could spoon and their hopes and greatest fears and whatever . . .
Heidi: . . .
Me: . . .
Heidi: . . .
Me: Heidi?
Heidi: Yes.
Me: Can I tell you one of my greatest fears?
Heidi: Of course.
Me: I'm afraid JK Rowling is going to kill Harry Potter in the last book.
Heidi: Oh my god.
Me: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.

Seriously, the only thing I fear more than Harry Potter dying is Ron Weasley dying and I JUST CAN'T HANDLE THAT YOU GUYS, I AM FAR TOO FRAGILE AND EMOTIONALLY DELICATE FOR THAT TO HAPPEN I don't want to talk about this anymore.