My fellow nerds and I will retire to the nerdery with our calculators.

Earlier this morning, Heidi threatened to punch me in the babymaker because I told her I was declaring it WORST. DAY. EVER. Week again and she said she couldn't deal with me being mopey and "woe is me." But I'm mostly just declaring it WORST. DAY. EVER. Week because my uterus is starting a revolution and I'm pretty sure the ovaries and fallopian tubes are thinking about joining, so I really hope Heidi does NOT punch me in the babymaker because my babymaker? Already hurts.

Anyway, not the point. Today I am here to tell you all about Nashville because I'll bet y'all (I learned that there) are just DYING to know. When Nancy and I left on Friday, it was a beautiful spring day that quickly turned rainy and shitty as we drove south. But the fact that we gained an hour made up for it. I love gaining hours! More time to waste! Whahoo! Everyone else was picking people up at the airport when Nancy and I got to the hotel, so we changed and displayed the penis cake in the best light possible.

Oh my god, this is so boring, I cannot continue. Just . . . here is a list of stuff that happened and stuff that was said. Please remember that you are hearing the stuff that was said completely out of context. Not that it would have made a whole lot more sense in context, but whatever.

• Bridal shower - no games (!!!), delicious food, I accidentally drank half of a bottle of wine (oops)
• Back to the hotel to change and then shopping, although I didn't buy anything
• At the shoe store, Mary, Katie, and I took pictures of ourselves wearing HIDEOUS HIDEOUS CROCS
• "Help me follow her! It's hard when you only have one eye!"
• We brought the sexy back every time we got in the car . . . sometimes twice
• "Have I mentioned I love Justin Timberlake?"
• Dinner at the Bound'ry. SO GOOD. Also! They played the entire Amy Winehouse CD while we were there!
• Irish pub - drank cider, listened to the band, played I Never, even though we all already know everything anyway
• I invented the term "sexual repertoire" and no, I will not tell you the conversation that led up to THAT
• "You can't be naked in Ohio without alcohol!"
• "What's the name of that movie? Batman Retires?"
• Mary and I made friends with some German guys. They told us they were from Germany and the first words out of my mouth were, "No, you're not!"
• I slept in a chair because all the beds were taken. My neck still hurts.
• The next day at lunch, Mary and I were oversharing until Nancy told us to stop because she kept hearing bits and pieces of our conversation and she was trying to eat.

OK, and this was the best part and gets more than a bullet because it is SO paragraph-worthy. On the way home, Nancy and I stopped . . . at DINOSAUR WORLD.

We had seen it on our way to Nashville on Friday and vowed to stop on our way back to Ohio. I am so glad we did. You guys! There were dinosaurs everywhere! Not real ones, unfortunately, but statues. Lots of statues. Even baby dinosaur statues! Of course, I wanted to get my picture taken on top of one of them, but unfortunately there were signs up that said "Please do not sit on the dinosaurs." See:
Well, OK, you can't really see it but that's what it said. Luckily, there was a playground, so I could do this:ROOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR!

Alright. I'm gonna go now. Nerd, out.

All morons hate it when you call them a moron.

So, today I was going to come home and right a proper blog entry about that one time I went camping at the Official Bob Evans Farm in . . . I don't know, Someplace, Ohio. But I had this sneaking suspicion that I already had written about it at some point. AND I HAD. A simple blog search for "Bob Evans Farm" took me to this entry. I already wrote about it in the most mediocre fashion possible, so I guess that saves me the trouble of doing it now. But you know what that means? I am officially out of things to write about on here. Out. Unless you guys have some suggestions, I quit. I just quit.

Nah, not really. I will just have to talk of other (read: boring) things. I'm rereading The Catcher in the Rye. I haven't read it in a couple years. I actually had to buy another copy because I can't find the one I used to have, meaning I either sold it (doubtful) or lent it to someone and they never gave it back. I don't care, though. The best part about books is that you can share them with other people. How disgustingly sweet was that last sentence? Oh man, I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Anyway, I wasn't going to buy another copy, I was just going to get it from the library (once I paid my fine and they let me have books again), but I just HAPPENED to be at a used bookstore and I picked up a copy and was flipping through it and saw that someone had written this on the inside of the front cover:

Scott - I figure that you could get your dirty fingures into this cats writting. I know you'll dig it. Happy Birthday Boy . . . Matt

I'm not sure if the spelling mistakes are intentional, but I find them hilarious. Come ON, wouldn't you have bought the book for that reason alone? No? Just me then? OK.

Do you remember that movie with Mel Gibson where he plays the crazy guy? This was before we all knew he was ACTUALLY batshit crazy. Conspiracy Theory! That's what it's called. You know in that movie how he HAS to buy a copy of The Catcher in the Rye whenever he's in or near a bookstore? I had a friend in who said I was the same way, only instead of of The Catcher in the Rye, I'd buy Pride & Prejudice. Just because this one time I bought a copy of it even though I already had one. Also, I stole a copy from the library we worked at because it had Colin Firth's face on it. Come ON, wouldn't you? No? Just me then? OK.

Wow. How obvious is it that I really am out of stuff to write about? Le sigh.

Michael, if this is a lecture on how we're all supposed to whatever and blah blah blah, well, you can save it, because we all know it by heart.

Do you ever go through a period of time where all you want to do is read? For, I don't know, a while (so descriptive), I've had to force myself to finish any book I start. Which is not like me. But lately, I've been reading CONSTANTLY. I take a book with me everywhere, just in case I have some extra time to read a couple of pages. I even had my book at the grocery store the other day but I didn't take it out of my purse because I was afraid I'd accidentally run over a small child or an old person with my cart if I tried to read and shop at the same time. Not that I'm particularly worried about running over a small child (because they're everywhere and if me hitting them with my cart teaches them NOT to run in front of things with wheels then I am happy to perform that service) but I'd feel bad about running over someone's sweet old grandma who is only at the store because her dear grandchildren are coming to visit this weekend, and so she risked the cold and the snow and the roads to come all the way to Kroger to buy ingredients for her world famous oatmeal raisin cookies. Oh, Grandma, you are just too sweet for words.

Wow, ok. So all weekend I've been reading. I finished one book and am halfway through another and I'm trying to mainline them as quickly as possible because I want to start something new. Sometimes I wish I could have books shot directly into my brain, like how they gave Keanu Reeves all the kung fu knowledge in The Matrix. And after they did it I'd be all, "I know exactly what twists and turns and misunderstandings were necessary for Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy to end up together," only that doesn't roll off the tongue quite like, "I know kung fu." Ah well.

Last night I was pouring over my bookshelves and I found a copy of The Great Gatsby that had fallen behind a row of other books. The Great Gatsby! Shoved behind other books! Blasphemy! To be completely honest, I didn't even know I owned a copy of The Great Gatsby. And I'm pretty sure the last (and only) time I ever read it was in high school and I didn't like it because in high school I was all, "Symbolism? Pshaw! Symbolism is stupid! I hate symbolism!" and then I went to college and became an English major and that's when symbolism and I began our torrid love affair. Anyway, so The Great Gatsby is next on my list of books to read because I think I'll like it more as a sophisticated and well-traveled (ha) twentysomething than I did as a smart-assed fifteen-year-old know-it-all. Damn, that was a lot of hyphens! Did you see that? Amazing. Anyway, the symbolism, right. I had this one professor in college that was way, way into symbolism. She was symbolism's bitch. Also, her husband was a professor, too, but not so much into symbolism. He was completely insane, though. Katie, you know who I'm talking about? YOU KNOW who I'm talking about. Anyway, the lady professor? You could make up ANYTHING and she'd just nod her head and say, "yes, yes, that is an interesting point." Sometimes when she'd call on me I would make up the most off the wall thing I could think of just to see if she'd agree with me. She usually did. Probably because she was high all the time.

Symbolism and I almost broke up over Moby-Dick. That book almost killed me. You know, if I remember right, that was the time I was reading Moby-Dick for one class, Hamlet for another, and Crime & Punishment for a class on Russian Literature that I only took because I thought it would be easy. Russian Literature. Easy. Ha! So, yeah. Moby-Dick, Hamlet, and Crime & Punishment. The Bermuda Triangle OF DEATH AND DEPRESSION. I doubt I was very much fun to be around during this time, namely because I was FUCKING DEPRESSED as a result of the murder and the crazy and the dying dying everybody dying. You know what, though? I kept my copy of Moby-Dick, not because I'll ever read it again, but as proof that I actually did read it. You can tell because of all the clever notes I wrote in the margins. Such as "ew" in reference to a description of a gaping wound and "haha" in reference to the words "sperm whale."

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu. Adieu, adieu, to yieu and yieu and yieu.

So today I had to do something that made me very, very nervous. I can't say what it was, though. All I'll say is that I had to borrow some grown-up clothes from Heidi (thanks, Heidi!) and even though the pants were a little long and I thought my boobs might burst through the top button on her blazer, I think I looked pretty damn good. Not anymore, though. Now I am wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a hooded sweatshirt (not red, though). HOT.

Anyway, when I have to do something that makes me very, very nervous, I have a very, very nerdy way of conquering the tiny butterflies playing racquetball in my stomach. Not only do I chant "What Would Elizabeth Bennet Do?" under my breath (not really . . . ok, maybe a little), but I always, ALWAYS have a specific song from The Sound of Music running through my head. You know? That one she sings about having confidence in confidence alone and she runs through the city swinging her guitar case in such a way that you just KNOW there is no guitar inside or it would have ripped her arm out of socket. Anyway. That is the song that runs through my head when I'm nervous. I didn't choose it. It's just there. I guess when you spend your formative years with Julie Andrews, something is gonna stick.

I am ALMOST ashamed that I shared that. Almost, I said.

As of right now I still have jury duty. Heh, duty. I'm supposed to call after 7 tonight to see if anything has changed and I'm hoping when I call they'll say, "Dear Jennie, please don't worry about dragging your tired ass out into the cold tomorrow morning. Stay at home. Sleep in. Lounge in your pjs." Not that it'd matter if they told me they didn't need me anymore. I'd just have to go to work, but at least work has the Internets. Although, at jury duty I might be able to finish the book I'm reading. Hmm. Quite a dilemma. Don't you feel sorry for me? Oh! Question! How long does jury duty last? Am I going to be down there all day? Like til 5? Because I have better things to do (see above: sleeping, lounging, Internets).

I have exciting news. You know how I decided to grow my hair long again? No? Well, I decided to grow my hair long again and today . . . this magical day . . . I realized that with the help of two tiny barrettes and a very small amount of hairspray I can put my hair IN A PONYTAIL. OH. HAPPY. DAY. I hope this amazing development is a sign of other good things to come if you know what I'm saying and I think you DON'T because I can't tell you. Do you see what I did there? Like it? No? Oh. OK.

Abraham Lincoln once said, if you’re a racist, I will attack you with the North.

People kept asking me if I have today off and every time they did all I could think was, "why do people keep asking me that?" Because, no, I do not have today off. If you do? I don't want to hear about it. Although, to the dear people of Dayton, at least I can take pleasure in the fact that it is RAINING on your day off. I'm sorry, that was mean. I'll try to be nicer (no, I won't).

I really wish it would stop raining, though. Yesterday, I tried to trade someone the internet for the sun but he wouldn't go for it unless I threw in a little something more than the internet. I still think it's a fair trade! Both bring joy and allow for hours of entertainment. Also, I don't remember the last time I saw the sun so really . . . come on. Think of someone else for a change and GIVE ME THE SUN. All this rain makes me want to nap constantly, something I have no problem with but I doubt my boss would like it if I curled up under my desk and slept all afternoon.

Speaking of napping, have I mentioned how much I love my new bed? Because I do. Love. It. I wish I could spend all day in it, but again, something tells me my boss wouldn't like it if I called in sleepy. Some weekend mornings? I'll get up and brush my teeth and check my e-mail and wander around the apartment trying not to trip over Phoebe, and then I'll look over at my bed, the covers still sleep-tussled, and I'll think, "hmm, that looks nice . . . I think I shall lie down for a moment to collect my thoughts." And so I'll flop down face first in a pile of comforter and when I wake up it's suddenly one in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas. But technically, since I'd already gotten up and brushed my teeth, it's not like I was just getting out of bed at one. It was a catnap that totally snuck up on me and you can't fight those!

SPEAKING of sleeping . . . I couldn't last night. Well, I mean I slept a little. I stayed up too late reading and then riiiiiight as I was on the cusp of sleep, my cell phone made that little, trilling noise that means I got a text message and I couldn't just NOT read it. That's crazy talk! So I read it, considered responding, realized that would be a lot of work, and then fell into a crazy, crazy dreamland. Seriously. These dreams were IN. SANE. I don't want to talk about it because I feel like you all already suspect that I am crazy, but telling you about these dreams would just prove it to you. I SWEAR. Oh, and also? I think Heidi and I have officially been living together for too long because she told me she had a zombie nightmare the other night. Which means I have passed along my zombie-phobia. Which is a totally logical phobia because zombies are scary. Seriously.

Dear Internets, did you have a good weekend? Mine was fantastic. I did nothing. Except I did a load of laundry. And went to the library. And read almost a whole book (yay, maybe I am no longer borderline retarded!). AND I showered both days, even though yesterday I showered and then immediately put my pajamas back on. Whatever. I also watched about a million movies, including but not limited to: Someone Like You (eh), Syriana (The Clooney!), Dead Poets Society (see previous entry), Steel Magnolias (shut up), Under the Tuscan Sun (Marcello!), and Shopgirl. OK, and I had really low expectations for Shopgirl (don't ask me why I rented it, then) but I loved it. LOVED IT. I have such a nerd girl crush on Jason Schwartzman; I don't know why. It is inexplicable. THAT WHICH CANNOT BE EXPLAINED.

I have obviously run out of things to say, so I'm just going to back away slowly. Bye.

I’d like everybody’s attention. Christmas is canceled. Jim, take New Year's away from Stanley.

I'm sorry, but I think THIS is pretty much the coolest thing I've ever seen.

Nerd alert.