tuesday's grey

Is it seriously only Tuesday? Really? I refuse to believe it. I am now declaring it Friday. YOU'RE WELCOME. While I'm at it, it's also 5 o'clock, so if you're reading this at work (tsk tsk), you can go home. YOU'RE WELCOME. Did I tell you guys I got attacked by zombies on Sunday? No? Well. Let me fill you in. I was just walking around the pond by our apartment, reveling in the unusually warm, spring-like weather, when SUDDENLY something jumped out of the pond like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, only it wasn't a creature! Well, it was, sort of. But not really! It was a zombie! And it came at me all, "braaaaaaaains, uuuuuuuugh BRRRAAAAAAAINS," so of course, I freaked out and tried to run away. But I tripped over a goose! His name was Gerard. And he was all, "Jennie, wtf is that thing?" and at first I was like, "um, dude, you're talking," and he was like, "duh, my name is Gerard and I come from this planet where geese can talk . . . only on my planet we're not called geese, we're called Zmdleuds." It was weird. Almost as weird as a zombie coming out of the water in broad daylight, but not quite. I asked Gerard if Howard the Duck was from his planet and he got all offended! He said, "please, Jennie, this is reality, not some silly movie you saw when you were 7." And I said, "WHATEVER, Gerard, do you see that thing coming at us? Tell me THAT'S reality!" And he was all, "Touche, Jennie. Touche."

So anyway, the zombie. Luckily, he was one of those slow-moving zombies from the days of yore, not one of the new ones who are so fast that they've ripped your throat out before you even realize anything is wrong. He was so slow that he'd barely clambered out of the pond by the time Gerard and I had finished our discussion. I looked around and realized I didn't have anything to fend off a zombie attack. No flame thrower, no Winchester, not even a big, pointy stick! I thought about just running back to the apartment, but I don't think Heidi would have been happy if I'd led a zombie to our front door. I mean, she's OK with most of my guests, but most of my guests don't try to eat her face.

So. I did what I had to do. I picked Gerard up, swung him around my head a few times, and threw him straight at the zombie. It didn't hurt the zombie or anything, but it gave me time to run back to my apartment while the zombie was looking for Gerard's brains. Don't worry about Gerard! He was fine. Zmdleuds don't have brains so the zombie eventually lost interest and fell back in the pond.

when a problem comes along, you must whip it

Two truths and a lie:

1. I came home for lunch today. I pulled into the parking lot, got out of the car, and used the automatic key fob thingie to lock the car doors. Then I tried to use the same automatic key fob thingie to unlock the door to the apartment. I hit the button several times before I realized that our front door is not automatic. YET.
2. I accidentally bought unsalted pretzels at the grocery store, proving once again that I should not be trusted with something as important as the food shopping. DON'T WORRY, though. I am dipping them in mustard and they are still delicious.
3. It is very, very hot today and is only going to get hotter and so I just called into work and told them I can't come back in because I'm sick. Also, my car won't start. Also, I have been kidnapped by pirates. Also, I was attacked by a wild goose and have to go to the hospital to get my pecking wounds fixed.

OK, that last one was a lie. Although, I did consider it, so it's a half-truth, right?

And where it asks you to state your business, he wrote, “Beeswax Not Yours, Inc.”

GUYS, I forgot my snack pack this morning. TRAGEDY! I love snack packs! Gimme my snack pack! Sorry. I get cranky when I don't get my snack pack. I bet you didn't know I had so much in common with Billy Madison. I also see a giant penguin when I'm drunk. True story. No, it's not. I'm sorry. I don't know why I lie for no reason. Other than it's fun.

Yesterday at work, I made the international sign for "jerk off." AT WORK. In front of coworkers, but not patients, so it was OK. But still. Inappropriate. My appropriateness button is broken, and it has led me to say the following things in the past couple weeks:

Did he touch you where you pee?
If you have too many kids and can't afford them all, you can always drown a couple in the bathtub.
and
Too bad you can't drink at work. Unless you're a prostitute.

I don't know what's wrong with my brain. Do you? Probably not. Thanks for all your help, JERK. Sorry, that was the no-snack-pack talking.

So, Heidi and I started this project on Monday called Operation Fat Whore, No More. We made a daily chart where we write W for workout (not President Douche) and NJ for no junk food. So far this week is full of W's and NJ's. I'm pretty proud of us. Usually by Thursday we're all, "fuck this, let's go to Penn Station," but we've been holding strong. We actually cooked dinner last night. Does cooking with a George Foreman count? I think so. You know what's weird? When you eat an actual meal instead of, like, chips & salsa and a cookie for dinner, you don't get hungry an hour after. Crazy.

As for the working out, we've been doing these Pilates DVDs that Heidi has. They're like torture. This bitch Mari Windsor tells you what to do and yet, SHE'S not doing any of it. And she puts you in the most awkward positions possible. Like, I started wondering the other night as I was on my back, throwing my legs behind my head, if I might have broken my neck. Because the human body is not meant to bend that way. Anyway, last night was the first night Heidi and I did Pilates together, and I'm just not sure that's going to work. You see, if Mari tells me to grab my ankles or reach around and I'm by myself, I might giggle a little but if HEIDI is there, then I feel the need to make a stupid comment or at least Beavis, "reach around, heh heh," and I just don't think that is beneficial. To anyone. I mean, last night Mari made some comment (I don't remember what) that led to Heidi and I talking about someone having testes on their face and that is just not an image I need in my head.

Let's be from Vermont. And let's have an emerging maple syrup conglomerate.

Last night, I forgot the cardinal rule of sports bars: Do not, I repeat DO NOT, make eye contact with anyone of the opposite gender if you wish to remain unhitupon. After going to see a (free) play with Heidi and two of her previous coworkers, we decided to stop for a drink but we didn't want to stay downtown because A) we didn't want our cars broken into and B) we weren't in the mood to get assraped.

So we went to some place called Cadillac Jack's, where we could NOT ONLY get a drink or two (ok or three), but we could also partake in some cheese fries or chicken wings or the like as well as some girly conversation (boys, bras, bajengas, etc). WHICH WE DID.

OK, now. Men, I have a question. Or two. Not sure yet. Where did you learn to hit on women? I mostly mean you, guy who shimmied past our table like a go-go dancer. I mean, I like the Counting Crows, too, but it's not really a shake your tailfeather kind of song. It was a little weird, is what I'm saying. Also, Guy Who is Getting Married in 2008 . . . I get that you were playing wingman for your friends. I get that it was my fault that you approached our table. After all, I made eye contact. We thought we were rid of you and your friends, too, but then you decided to sit at the table behind us and lean into our conversation, each time putting your arms around Bree and Tamara, both of whom had their backs to you so you're lucky they didn't elbow you in the face in fright.

Guy: So what do you guys do?
Bree: I'm a social worker.
Tamara: I interview drug addicts.
Jennie's Brain: Your job is boring. Lie.
Me: I'm a stewardess.
Guy: Oh, really?
Me: Well, flight attendant would be more politically correct, I guess.
Guy: So, you like serve people coffee and water and stuff?
Me: Yes, that is an important part of my job.
Guy: Cool.
Me: Yeah, and it's really hard to do in high heels.
Guy: And turbulence.
Me: Right.
Guy: OK, then.

Then he left us alone! Ok, only for a couple minutes but a very nice couple of minutes. This was the first time I'd met Bree and Tamara, and I'd already told them I work for an orthodontist, so they were a bit confused.

Bree: Wait, are you really a stewardess?
Me: Haha, no.
Bree: Oh, god, ok. I didn't think so.
Tamara: I was gonna say, you'd be pretty busy.
Bree: I wish I could just make shit up like that.
Me: It is a gift.
Tamara: So what airline do you fly?
Me: Delta.
Heidi: Where's your home base?
Me: Cincinnati.
Heidi: How did September 11th make you feel, being a stewardess?
Me: Well, I was still in stewardess college at the time.
Bree: You had to go to stewardess college?
Me: Of course. It's tough, too. Very competitive.
Heidi: Have you ever had Paris Hilton on a flight, flashing her vajayjay everywhere?
Me: No, those flights? The ones from like LA or New York or international flights? You have to work your way up to those and I'm not there yet. Obviously, I'm still stuck in Cincinnati.
Bree: Wow. I don't know how you're doing this. If I tried to lie I'd be all "Um, I . . . um, hahaha!"
Me: Hmm. You could be a Bavarian Chocolate Specialist.
Bree: Oh my god.

I think I'm totally ready to be a professional wedding crasher. What kind of dental do you get with that, I wonder.

The worst thing about prison was the Dementors. They were flying all over the place, and they were scary.

What is it about strange weather that renders people incapable of talking about anything but? I'm not saying I'm exempt because there is a wind advisory right now (seriously? wind? that is SO the redheaded stepchild of the weather advisory world) and every time the wind blows all I can think to say to anyone is, "wow, it is really windy outside." CLEVER.

I suppose I could tell you how windy it is. It is so windy that it made it hard to drive this morning. No good? OK. It's so windy that when the wind blew the rain onto my windshield it reminded me of being in the dry cycle of a car wash. Still no good. It's so windy that I had visions of a swinging traffic light coming loose from the line and almost dropping onto the hood of my car, but then Superman came and caught it. Better. How's this. It's so windy that when I got out of the car with my umbrella, a gust of wind caught it and carried me Mary Poppins style over to jolly old England, where I met some chimney sweeps and then we all jumped into a chalk drawing on the sidewalk to live happily ever after. Best, but that's a total lie. Sorry.

Things that are true? I have been walking around for the past hour with my fly down. I haven't been able to get the song "Rainbow Connection" out of my head ever since watching The Office last night. I had applesauce, a cookie, and coffee for breakfast. I used a different perfume today and can't stop smelling myself. I smell really good right now. I wish I was anywhere but where I am at this moment. I hope it snows buckets tonight. I will regret saying that if it does. I have to pee. Dementors ARE scary. Oh. And it's really, really, really goddamn windy outside.