Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I did an original sin. I poked a badger with a spoon.

Heidi and I break a lot of stuff in our apartment. There was the oven knob incident, and the garbage disposal (twice), my toilet, our refrigerator, various light bulbs, our recliner, several coffeemakers, the dryer, the time I threw a coaster at the wall, and, very recently, Heidi's closet door, the patio door blinds, and our kitchen light. The beauty of renting, however, is that the apartment complex had to pay to fix most of this.

With our history of breaking shit, I wasn't too surprised yesterday evening when I broke the front door. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Jennie, whatever, you did not break the front door." Well, shut up, yes I did. You see, for the past several weeks, Heidi and I have noticed that the lock on our front door was getting harder and harder to lock and unlock. So what did we do? We mostly ignored it. And when we weren't ignoring it, we complained about it. This was working well for us, you know, until yesterday.

So there I am, all tired from work and shivering on the front stoop, and I stuck my key in the hole, like I always do, but this time? When I tried to pull the key out? Part of the lock came with it. You know, the little cylinder part that has all the pins and crap in it? That little cylinder was just hanging there. A bit was still in the hole, but most was hanging out in the cold, cold, winter air.

"Hmm," I thought. "Perhaps I can shove it back in." So. I tried to shove it back in. Nothing.

"Hmm," I thought. "Perhaps I can simply turn the cylinder with the key and, even though it's not even connected to the door anymore, the door will unlock." So. I tried to turning the key. Nothing.

"Hmm," I thought. "Perhaps this is something I cannot fix myself and I should stop messing with it before I make it much, much worse and Heidi and I can never get back into the apartment and we have to live in an igloo next to the front porch." And so I got in my car and drove up to the apartment complex office.

Things were looking up as I walked into the office, for who should be working but Hot Guy Who Works In Our Apartment Complex Office (who I will now call . . . Bartleby). He is the one I have a tiny, baby, little crush on. Not in a real way, but in the junior high way where every time he talks to me, I start stuttering and my face gets red and I say stupid things. Well. Stupider than usual.

Bartleby: Hi, there. What can I do for you?
Me: I'm having a problem!
Bartleby: OK?
Me: I broke our front door and now the door won't unlock.
Bartleby: Um . . .
Me: Allow me to demonstrate.

And this is when I got my keys out and walked him over to the lock on his office door and imitated the whole lock coming out of the door while attached to my key thing.

Bartleby: Wow, I've never heard of that happening before.
Me: Super.
Bartleby: I'll call the maintenance guy.

While I waited, I was just going to sit in the lobby and read my book (after calling Heidi to tell her if she tried to go home, it would be a fruitless journey that would only end in tears and frustration), but Bartleby came out to talk to me! Yay!

Bartleby: Talk talk talk.
Me: Reply reply reply.
Bartleby: Ha ha ha!
Me: Ha ha ha! Oh, we are laughing!

And the whole time, I'm thinking, "Is he gay? I can't tell if he's gay. He seems sort of gay. It would totally be just my luck if he were gay," but then I said, "I hope I'm not keeping you," and he said, "No, I'm here til 6 anyway," and I said, "Oh, OK," and he said, "I really don't mind staying after 6, though," and I thought, "Score!" but then he said, "My fiance and I were just going to get some wings later anyway," and then I thought, "Fuuuuuuuuck you." True story.

So, apparently Bartleby and I are not meant to be. Unless he and his fiance break up, but it feels wrong to hope for such a thing. Luckily, Heidi and I still have Bernard and Sebastian, who may or may not be gay and who may or may not have another Hot Guy now living with them. New Hot Guy has glasses (heart) and a black car (irrelevant) and a purple lunchbox (um) and now all he needs is a name. And so I shall christen him . . . THADDEUS.

Oh, we eventually got back into our apartment. Like THAT'S the important part of the story. Sheesh.

_____

Today on The Collective, it's your turn to tell us our business.

I'm Agent Johnson, this is Special Agent Johnson. No relation.

Disclaimer: This is so boring, you should really just skip it.

You guys, I had the best weekend. I did nothing. NOTHING. The only productive thing I did was laundry.

I mean, Friday night was Boys are Stupid (and Smelly) Night. I got up late on Saturday and Heidi and I fixed a ginormous breakfast. Seriously, we ate all the breakfast food in the Dayton area. Then we went to the library (!!!) and I do believe I've gone overboard because I've been there three times in the past week and a half and I came home with books EVERY TIME. Oops. Then we got Papa Murphy's. MMM. Also, my mom and dad were out of town and they told Heidi and I that NOT ONLY could we use their hot tub this weekend? But we could raid their bar. I'm not sure what they were thinking. We also took advantage of their HBO OnDemand and watched Die Hard. I don't know why I've never seen that before. IT'S AWESOME! Bruce Willis kicks everyone's asses and HE'S BAREFOOT THE WHOLE TIME! And Carl Winslow is in it!

I slept in til noon yesterday. I don't remember the last time I did that. When I got up, Heidi and I watched a bunch of episodes of The Biggest Loser that TiVo had recorded for us.

Now. I hope you are sitting down, Internets, because I am about to BLOW. YOUR. MIND. Instead of doing what we normally do on Sunday night, which is run to Arby's/Wendy's/Penn Station, we COOKED. We cooked food! And it was delicious. THAT'S NOT ALL! We also went running last night! Normally I try to avoid all forms of physical activity on the weekends. And every time we started to get tired on the run, I'd be all "Big Fat Eric! Big Fat Eric!" or "Guy with a cane! Guy with a cane!" Oh, because Big Fat Eric lost like a million pounds on The Biggest Loser and Heidi had seen an old guy running in jean shorts carrying a cane earlier that day and we figured that if a 400 pound guy and a 400 year old guy (with a cane! in jean shorts!) could run, we could too. Probably I should have explained that first. Oh well.

Conversations With My Roommate: Gmail Chat Edition

Ever since Heidi bought a laptop, sometimes we'll chat on Gmail from opposite ends of the apartment. Sure, one of us could get up and go into the other's room, but we don't. Also, sometimes yelling is tiring. So. Shut up and stop judging, judge-y.

Heidi: i'm really tirsty too
wow, way to spell

[this part of the conversation is not safe for the internets]

me: i could totally start a conversations with my roommate: gmail chat edition on my blog

Heidi: haha, you should

me: not this convo though

Heidi: heck no

me: we'll see
should we send out an evite for our bday soon?
or like a save the date?
hahaha

Heidi: yeah, i think we should
we could send out one that lets them know and then update it when we decide what to do

me: good call
i like where your head's at

Heidi: thanks, I try
are you watching friends?

me: no
i'm listening to the radio

Heidi: loser
friends is funny!
haha

me: you're funny!
haha!
oh god my stomach is angry

Heidi: your face if funny
mine too...it's all achy now

me: not pukey angry or anything but like "too soon, jennie, too soon!"

Heidi: "you should have known better"

me: yeah, but when do we ever make good decisions?
i mean, it's april 9th and i'm just now doing my taxes

Heidi: haha, yeah, that's funny
talk about procrastination

me: i'm glad my parents never asked about it
my dad would be all "jennifer lynn! don't come crying to us when you get thrown in jail!"

Heidi: you could totally trick them into thinking you forgot this year if they ask!

me: and my mom would be all "jennifer lynn!" and then "are you feeling better, sweetie?"
oooh, i should!
i could be all "i have to do my taxes every year?"

Heidi: I'm afraid I'm not going to remember to get my new ID or tags for my car
haha, yeah that would be hilarious!

me: i think our parents should be responsible for stuff like that until we get married

Heidi: seriously...too much and I'll blow up

me: and then our husbands can be responsible for it
i feel bad for my future husband

Heidi: me too

me: he has no idea what he's in for

Heidi: i can't cook, hate to clean, and don't like to be responsible for my own stuff

me: he has to pay all the bills, cook, do the laundry, take care of the cars, clean the bathroom

Heidi: hahahaha yeah

me: make sure i change my underwear every day

Heidi: eww
that is bad

me: i'm just kidding!

Heidi: haha, good

me: god, how disgusting do you think i am?

Heidi: well........

me: hey

Heidi: JUST KIDDING

me: whatever!
we're fighting!
i will fight you!
fisticuffs!

Heidi: bring it

me: I don't wanna, i'm tired

Heidi: I'll poop on you

me: EWWWW
and hahahahaah
once i told my sister i pooped in her bed

Heidi: it won't take any effort for the poop
you can just sit there

me: this was like a couple years ago

Heidi: haha, did she believe you?

me: yeah!
she got so mad!
and started screaming, "JENNIE WHY DID YOU POOP IN MY BED?!?"

Heidi: because

me: and my dad came upstairs and she was yelling and he was all "why is she yelling?"
and I couldn't tell him because I was laughing too hard because . . . did you poop in my bed? hahahahaha

Heidi: hahaha, that would be all sorts of wrong
our cat at home used to poop on my brother's bed
it was funny

me: phoebe puked in my bed
not now
but this one time?
she did

Heidi: excellent story

me: thanks
i pride myself on my storytelling skills

Heidi: they're pretty great
i won't lie

me: i work on them at night while i'm lying in bed

Heidi: that isn't the only thing you work on in bed
ZING!!!!

me: wow
i am offended

Heidi: haha
sorry

me: no you're not
i'm so putting some of this in my blog
can i have your consent?

Heidi: yeah

me: awesome

We do still have real conversations, though.

Heidi: Your hair looks cute!
Me: What?
Heidi: Your hair. I like it.
Me: Are you kidding? I just pulled it into a ponytail while I was sitting here. I didn't even look in the mirror.
Heidi: Well, it looks good.
Me: That's it. I'm not even going to try any more. When I try to look cute, everything backfires.