big ball of wibbly-wobbly...timey-wimey...stuff

I changed my ringtone to the Doctor Who theme and waited and waited for someone to call me so I could hear it and guess what? Not a lot of people call me. Or if they do, they somehow wait until I'm sleeping or in the bathroom or whatever.

Also! My text alert noise is now that VROP noise that the Tardis makes when it appears. Or disappears. Whatever. I forgot about it until Monday, when I was sitting on the sofa and SUDDENLY THE TARDIS WAS LANDING IN MY LIVING ROOM. Except not. Because it was just a text. I may have gotten excited and this conversation may have happened:

Me: I heard my new Tardis text message noise today for the first time.
Joe: Um, OK.
Me: I forgot I changed it, though, and for a minute I thought the Tardis was landing.
Joe: Sigh.

It could happen, you guys, I swear.

So I started writing this yesterday and totally forgot about it. I blame the drugs. For real, the drugs. It's cough medicine, sure, but I still think it's a valid excuse. I was home sick on Monday and took an actual sick day, rather than trying to get work done from home which is what I normally do. Instead, I finished season 5 of Weeds and watched The Office (British version) Christmas special because I wanted to see Tim and Dawn get together. Yeah, that's pretty much the only reason I watched it. Anyway, I was home again on Tuesday because of all the weather and by weather I mean COLD AND SNOW. There are some perks to working so far from home, and being able to work from home because the roads are too snowy/icy is one of them. If I had an SUV or something, I could probably make it in easily but I don't, I have a car that is basically a glorified sled and while I don't mind sliding around all lanes of the highway, the other drivers do. I can't imagine why. My car is bright green, JUST GET OUT OF MY WAY.

I totally forgot to tell you guys something really important, probably because I was too busy talking about Jack Black the time traveler and cat poop, but Heidi (and Nicole!) got engaged over Christmas. You may remember Heidi from such entries as Upside Down Oven Knob and inappropriate conversations about Full House. Sometimes I wonder how we turned into people who get married and adopt animals and buy houses and remodel bathrooms and I get a little sad remembering our crazy days of drinking until 5 in the morning and eat cupcakes for dinner. Then I remember that I spent New Years Eve running around the beach acting like a dinosaur AND I legitimately thought that a time traveling police box might be landing in my living room and I realize not so very much has changed.

Piv-AT! PIV-AAAAT!

Oh, Monday. I would so very much like to kick you in the headplace. But I won't, because I'm nice.

I keep forgetting to mention this (too busy talking about my lady lumps, obviously) but Joe and I are moving in together in less than two weeks. Because I am an uberplanner, I have already started packing so I'm not up all night the night before the move, throwing random crap into boxes all haphazardly because that makes unpacking an even bigger mess than it normally is.

I'm also trying to sell some of my stuff on Craigslist and, WHOO BOY, but is Craigslist ever a pain in my ass. I ended up putting one thing on the free board just so someone would come pick it up and I wouldn't have to take it to Goodwill myself, but I am having the hardest time ridding myself of my dining room table. So many people have expressed interest and one couple even came to look at it yesterday, but no takers. Keep your fingers crossed that the person coming to look at it this weekend falls in love with it. Platonic love. It would be weird to fall in romantic love with a table. I'm pretty sure that's illegal anyway.

Joe and I are moving into my grandma's old condo and I will tell you why. My grandma moved out of it a couple of years ago when she started having health problems, which I won't go into because A) it would take a looooong time to tell that story and B) it makes me really sad face. She's since moved into a more permanent assisted living facility and so her condo is just sitting there, all lonely-like.

MEANWHILE, Joe and I were searching for a place to live. We decided not to buy right now, for various reasons, and we couldn't find an apartment we liked, which was very frustrating but then! My parents were all, "um, why don't we just rent you the condo?" and I was like, "um, OK, can we rent it for free?" and my dad was all, "no, loser," and I said, "OK, we'll take it!"

We spent this past Saturday boxing up my grandma's stuff and taking it to storage and mylanta, was she ever a packrat. It's good to know where I get it from. I had to eat two chocolate donuts just to keep up my strength. I think one of my cousins might have eaten at least five or six donuts, because every time I looked at him, he was eating another one and I know I looked at him at least five times. I don't understand how he does that. Or how he's so damn skinny. Anyway.

Get this, Internets, just GET THIS. My grandma had had the condo painted a while ago, before she moved out, and according to my aunt, the guy who painted it did a shit-tastic job. I didn't think it was that bad until my uncle moved the china hutch that was in the corner of the dining room and OMG there was a big white patch in the exact shape of the china hutch. Because the painter had painted AROUND the hutch rather than move it. I now hate him. We'd considered painting but now we sort of have to, unless we find something that's the same exact shape as the china hutch which...yeah, that's not gonna happen so now we have to paint. I'm not very good at painting because I'm short so I can't reach all the way to the ceiling and if I'm scared to stand on a ladder on account of all the clumsy, which is apparently genetic because in the span of about 30 seconds both my aunt and cousin tripped over NOTHING and we all laughed and laughed and there was general merrymaking.

I'm so, so excited to move in with Joe but I'm also sad because Heidi and I won't be roommates anymore. It's all very confusing, this having two feelings at once thing. I can't really talk about it right now because it makes me all verklempt.

Happy Birthday, Heidi!

I can't wait to drink ginormous beers and screech Sweet Caroline, and generally just be loud and obnoxious.

Sorry in advance, Joe.

In my body, where the shame gland should be, there is a second awesome gland.

I had all these things to write today. I think. And now I don't remember what any of them were. I'm sure it was fascinating stuff, so I'm sorry you don't get to read it. I am happy to report that my weekend was A+ awesome. Much better than last weekend. Although, considering I spent much of last Sunday getting up close and personal with my toilet, this weekend didn't have to do much to be awesome. But it was awesome even if you don't compare it to puke. I'm going to stop saying awesome now. Awesome. OK, that was the last one.

Nancy came over on Friday, and brought two bottles of wine to go with the Papa Murphy's we'd picked up. Unfortunately, she had to leave early and pick up her parents from the airport but that didn't stop Heidi and I from staying up until 3 in the morning drinking rum and playing Raving Rabbids 3 on Wii. You play part of that game with your butt. True story. I would tell you how fun it is but HELLO we stayed up until 3 in the morning playing it and YOU PLAY IT WITH YOUR BUTT. How much more endorsement do you need?

When we eventually woke up on Saturday, we managed to drag ourselves to Cracker Barrel (MMM) and Target. While we were waiting for them to call our name at the restaurant, we were perusing the merchandise in the waiting area (like you do) when this overly-helpful worker noticed us staring at all the stuff hanging from the ceiling. It went a little something like this:

Him: I'll bet you girls aren't even old enough to recognize most of that stuff.
Us: Huh?
Him: I don't even know what most of that stuff is.
Us: OK.
Him: Yep, they don't really go over any of that in our orientation.
Us: You don't say.
Him: Yeah. Well, over there is a toy tractor. And that's an old vacuum. I don't know what that thing is.
Us: Wow.
Him: Someone told me that just have a warehouse full of this stuff!
Us: Um . . .
Him: And when a new store opens up, they just go to the warehouse and load up a truck!
Us: . . .
Him: That'd be a fun job.
Us: . . .
Him: To just buy all this stuff.

That's when we started inching away. Anyway. Moving on.

It was an epic trip to Target, for sure, mostly because the $1 spot had lots of fun stuff so I stocked up on useless crap. Whoo! We eventually made it out of Target and back home, and I thought since it was Valentine's Day and all, I would shower and try and make myself look presentable. Joe and I didn't do anything particularly Valentiney. We went to dinner and it was DELICIOUS and then we watched the most romantic movie ever. Yes, that movie is about killer slugs from space that turn people into zombies. But whatever. It has Nathan Fillion in it and I heart him. He's Captain Hammer. Plus also, it was sort of awesome (shit) even though it was really, really gross but it was about slug-zombie-monsters so, you know, DUH. I know it's not a typical Valentine's Day movie, but honestly, who wants to be typical?

One reason we didn't go all out on celebrating Valentine's Day is that Joe's birthday was the very next day and on a scale from meh to awesome (oops), I think Valentine's Day is more on the meh side. While OBVIOUSLY birthdays are all up on the awesome side. Anyway, my plan was to cook him dinner, which I guess I technically did, but he ended up helping with some stuff, like putting the chicken on the pan (because raw chicken is icky) and also taking things in and out of the oven (because of my tendency to burn myself on, well, everything), but I totally cooked the biscuits and the cheesy broccoli (in the microwave, shut it) and the homemade cookies that may or may not have involved transferring pre-made cookie dough to a cookie sheet. It's the thought that counts, right? Right. Tonight, his friends are throwing him a party and, while it's not a surprise, certain elements are unknown to him. Mwaahaahaahaahaa. Ha.

I meant to post this hours ago but then I saw something shiny and forgot (plus also! grace in small things: day 8)

I think many of us can agree that 2009 has gotten off to a rocky start. Early on in January, when it looked like 2009 was kicking some of my friends square in the face, I theorized that MAYBE 2009 was following that saying about March: In like a lion, out like a lamb. So rest easy, friends. 2009 may suck right now, but by December, you will be swimming in pools of chocolate or money or Hannah Montana dolls or whatever other weird thing you kids are into these days. Also, playing with lambs, if I'm understanding that saying correctly.

I don't know what to expect from this weekend, since it is both the last day of January and the first day of February, but I have high hopes. High, I say! My hopes, not me. Which brings me to my five things for the day:

1. chocolate covered pretzels
2. I have a dinner date with Joe
3. and then later a drinking date with Heidi
4. and then tomorrow morning, I will sleep in
5. and then drink coffee and eat peanut butter toast and hang out in my pajamas watching bad TV and reading

And then, you know, I will shower and get dressed and stuff. Not that I wouldn't love hanging out in my pajamas all day, reading and watching bad TV. Not that I HAVEN'T hung out in my pajamas all day, reading and watching bad TV. I mean, that's basically what I did on Wednesday, only I did get dressed for a little bit and I spent an hour banging ice off my car (that counts as exercise) and also Jillian killed me and really, I don't consider The Biggest Loser bad TV. Anyway. Where was I?

Right. Tomorrow we are celebrating The Birth of Steve (Lampl and Jon will be there!) and then on Sunday, I'm going to my parents' to watch The Super Bowl. Not because I care about the game (pshaw) but because I whined so much about wanting them to make spicy chili that they finally caved, and also I'm going to try and convince them that we should watch The Puppy Bowl instead of football.

So, you know, here are the good things I have going on this weekend: Joe, Heidi, Steve, Lampl, Jon, coffee, peanut butter, pajamas, bad TV, reading, parents, sister, beer, chili, puppies playing football. Please be nice, January.

big favor (again)

Hey, remember when I asked you guys to send good thoughts and vibes and prayers to Heidi and her family? I hope you didn't use them all, because I really need you to send some more. Virtual hugs are good, too.

Thanks, friends.

big favor

If you guys could spare any prayers or good thoughts or good vibes, and send them to Heidi and her family right now, that'd be super. I owe you.

She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.

If I call you very often, then you know I leave never-ending, rambling messages. I try to leave normal messages for people I don't know very well yet (because I want them to, you know, WANT to talk to me) but the people I've known for a long time get to listen to me babble to their voicemail, usually until the lady cuts me off. Heidi knows this better than anyone. For instance, yesterday I called her after work to tell her I was going to the library. Because I was afraid if she got home from work and I wasn't already sitting on the sofa reading, she'd think I got kidnapped by gorillas or something. And don't tell me gorillas would never kidnap me. They're planning something, I just know it.

Anyway, here is the message I left her:

Heeeey, it's me. OH MY GOD, so I just got gas and guess what? Well, first of all, it cost me $40 to fill up my teeny tiny car and THAT'S NOT FAIR. $3.95 for gas? WHAT THE HELL? Anyway, so I was pulling into the gas station and I saw THE MYSTERY MACHINE. THE FREAKING MYSTERY MACHINE. I thought Scooby Doo was gonna jump out, but he didn't. Oh, so I'm on my way to the library because I'm almost done with my book and I can't remember if I have any books I haven't read yet, so clearly I need to get some from the library. I hope my fine isn't too big. It's OK if it is, though. I don't mind paying my library fines and you know why? Because then they can buy more books. And that benefits the entire city, really. I'm such a good person. My irresponsibility means the library can buy more books and then I can read the books and then I can take the books back late and then I can pay my fine and then THEY CAN BUY MORE BOOKS. So, I'm going to the library, I'll see you at home, OK BYE.

That is almost word for word, I think. Heidi is much better at getting to the point. Here was the message she left me in response:

YOU DON'T NEED ANY MORE BOOKS. GET OUT OF THE LIBRARY.

What she doesn't know is, yuh-huh, I do SO need more books, because the other day I stumbled upon THIS LIST and realized with shame, shame, SHAAAAAAME, how few of them I had read. And so I printed the first 50, thinking I'd be able to find at least a couple of them at the library and wouldn't you know it? I found the first four (although, I'd already read one, SCORE) and so I'm starting with #1, Never Let Me Go and I'll tell you what. I could not put that book down last night and I stayed up far too late reading it and I am really sleepy right now, but I don't care. I thought about calling in sick today so I could stay home and read (also because it's raining), but decided against it in case my boss found out and fired me for being a slacker a-hole. After all, I need this job so I can pay my library fines.

it's Friday, I'm in love*

There are times when it's a bit inconvenient to have a roommate, like when I want to perform ritual goat sacrifice or entertain gentlemen callers or BOTH at the same time (don't you judge me).

The best part about having a roommate is that you have someone to laugh with ALL THE TIME. Provided, of course, you don't live with a giant bitch who throws tantrums about empty ice cube trays and, thankfully, I don't. Anymore. But that's a story for another day. Or maybe several days. Or maybe never, because I've tried to banish those memories from my brain FOREVER.

I'm not sure how common this is in most apartments, but in ours? There are two pirate hooks sitting on the end table next to the sofa. Last night, during Ugly Betty, I picked one up and decided to wear it for the rest of the show. Because even when my attention is focused on TV, I need something else to distract me, like a book. Or a monkey. Or a pirate hook, duh. Aaaaaaanyway, Conversations With My Roommate:

Me: I'm going to wear this pirate hook to work tomorrow.
Heidi: You should. You could tell everyone you had an accident.
Me: Hahahaha.
Heidi: Just be like, I cut my hand off and this was all they could give me at the hospital.
Me: Hahahahaha!
Heidi: The best part is, they'd still be able to see your hand under the hook.
Me: Oh my god. They'd be like, "Jennie . . . just . . . go home."
Heidi: Heh, and you'd be trying to type with your good right hand and your left hook and they'd be all, "um . . . wtf?"
Me: Seriously, though, what a great way to get to go home early! "You are clearly drunk or high, GET OUT OF HERE."
Heidi: HAHAHAHAHA.
Me: HAHAHAHAHA.

And then I passed out from laughing so hard. True story. And then?

Me: Did you just toot?
Heidi: Heh. Yes.
Me: Jesus.
Heidi: . . . my farts smell like bologna.

And then I really DID laugh so hard I passed out a little. We had to pause TiVo because we were laughing so loud we couldn't hear Ugly Betty. You can't miss any of Ugly Betty, because what if you miss something funny that Marc says? You'd be DOOMED! DOOOOOOOOOOOMED!

*with Friday

____

Today on The Collective: Are you an asshole? It's OK. Tell us why.

Cause you know, they say pregnancy often leads to, you know . . . infants.

Yesterday was shaping up to be one of those beautifully unproductive Saturdays, but it was not to be. Le sigh. Sure, when I finally rolled out of bed, it was practically afternoon and I spent the majority of the early afternoon dicking around on the Internets, but then I realized Heidi was already dressed and was bopping in and out of the apartment for a variety of things because she was actually attempting to accomplish something (installing satellite radio in her car) on a frigid Saturday instead of sitting around in her pajamas, which is what I was doing and it's sort of like this sentence might never end, isn't it? Oh, well, there it just did. YOU'RE WELCOME. Can I have a sidebar for a moment? It was sort of freezing yesterday. Not as cold as it was earlier this week, mind you, but still cold enough that when I stood outside, watching Heidi work on her car, I had to jump around lest my legs should go numb from the cold, cold air. Sure, I could have gone inside and put on something other than pajama pants, but that would have meant taking off my shoes and it's so much work to put them on. You have to tie them and everything. Anyway, so it was wicked cold yesterday and it's 52 right now and tomorrow it is supposed to be 67 degrees. That is PRACTICALLY 70 and I'm pretty sure this is Ohio and I'm pretty sure this is January and so I'm pretty sure something is not adding up.

Anyway, so Heidi was outside hooking her satellite shit up and eventually I wandered out to have a little looksie (this is a lie, mostly I really needed her to make a decision for me POST HASTE) and saw she was struggling with one of the steps. She had to like, pry up the rubber (heh) on the rim of the back windshield and shove the antennae wire under it. Well, as you may have already guessed, we do not have the tools necessary to participate in this sort of endeavor. The little picture in her instruction booklet showed someone using what looked like one of those torturous metal poking devices dental hygienists use to scrape plaque off of your teeth. I am not friends with any dentists, HOWEVER, I knew that my dad just happened to own several of these tools. I don't know why. He's not a dentist. We don't ask questions, OK? So, I called my dad:

Me: Hey, Dad.
Dad: Hello.
Me: Can I come over and borrow your dental tools?
Dad: Sure. What for?
Me: Heidi's trying to pry off the rubber part around her back windshield? And we don't have anything that will fit.
Dad: . . . why is she doing that?
Me: Oh, she got satellite radio for Christmas and she's trying to install it.
Dad: By herself?!

Once I explained that JUST BECAUSE we cannot hook up a dryer without practically setting the apartment on fire, and sure, we also have trouble with oven knobs, it DOES NOT mean we are completely useless, we went to go get the plaque scraper/rubber lifter. Hahahahahaha. Oh man.

Sister: What are you doing here?
Me: We're here to borrow Dad's dental tools.
Sister: WHY?!
Me: Well, I can't afford to go to the dentist, so Heidi's gonna clean my teeth for me.

And I'll have you know that once we got that thing, Heidi had absolutely no trouble shoving the antennae under the rubber and installing the rest of her radio stuff. I even helped, by standing around complaining about the cold and making inappropriate comments about rubbers and shoving things in holes. So, see? We're not completely useless. It's just me.

Here it is. Heart of New York City. Times Square. Named for the good times you have when you’re in it.

Heidi has been in NYC with her mom since last week, so I have been left to my own devices since I got home from DC Monday evening. This means I have eaten nothing but junk food, watched way too much TV, and spent the majority of my time dicking around on the Internets. At first I was a little jealous that I didn't get to go to NYC (hint, hint MOM), but then I remembered that I was going to DC for a Thanksgiving miracle. And in any case, I would have so been in the way. Heidi and her mom like to shop. Like A LOT. I hate shopping. Like A LOT. The only things I really like shopping for are t-shirts and books. I could spend hours in a bookstore, but nobody else I'm with ever wants to spend that much time there. If I had my way, I'd just move into a bookstore. I'd make myself a little fort out of books. Only I'd have to use books I don't like to read so I wouldn't have to dismantle my book fort every time I wanted to read. I could probably use encyclopedias. Encyclopedias are irrelevant anyway, thanks to Wackopedia. I could probably use magazines for the roof of my fort since I wouldn't have to worry about rain. And I'd use a Where's Waldo book for the door, cause it's thin but big enough to block the doorway. And if I was feeling friendly (ha!), I could move the Where's Waldo book out of the way pretty easily. Um. ANYWAY.

They also saw the Rockettes. Now, I've never been to a Rockettes show. The closest I've ever come to seeing a Rockettes show is when Daddy Warbucks takes Annie to see one. But I've seen enough to know that the Rockettes and I would not get along. They never stop smiling. They're far too enthusiastic about throwing their legs up into the air like they just don't care. Also, they seem really tall and really tall people make me uneasy, because I'm afraid they might not see me and they'll just run right over me with their big, monster, clown feet.

This morning I got a text message from Heidi asking me to TiVo The Today Show. This means they got up early to go stand outside that giant window. You couldn't PAY me to do that. It involves everything I hate. Getting up early, cold weather, a big crowd of people, and Al Roker. OK, I don't HATE Al Roker, but he does scare me a little. He's always smiling so big that it looks like he's about to take a giant bite out of my leg or something. Anyway, Heidi probably would have MADE me go with her (she's always making me do stuff . . . like leave the apartment) and I would have bitched and complained the entire time and ruined her memories of The Today Show forever.

Plus, I probably would have made them go hang out at the WGA picket line every day so we might see Tina Fey or Conan O'Brien. Or, if we were really lucky, Jon Stewart. Swoon*!

*heh

Well, I’m going to start fast. Then I’m going to run fast in the middle. Then I’m going to end fast.

Last Friday, after some fast and furious emailing, Heidi and I decided to run the Turkey Trot. Actually, what happened was, I spent the majority of the afternoon looking up various upcoming races in the Dayton area and then I asked Heidi if she wanted to run the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving. Once she said yes, I told her the race was at 8 AM. Mwaahaahaa! Seriously, though, it needs to be early in the morning because I need plenty of time the rest of the day to eat mashed potatoes. Also, Turkey Trot is fun to say. Turkey Trot Turkey Trot TURKEY TROT! Although, it kind of sounds like a stomach disease you might get while traveling, if you know what I'm saying and I think you do.

I was telling my parents about the race last night and I don't think my dad believes we're actually going to do it. Not just because I have never run a five mile race before IN MY LIFE, but also because I say I'm going to do a lot of things that I never end up doing (see: play the guitar, write a novel, develop a time machine). But this race costs money so if I don't end up doing it, I'm out $17 and I don't know about you but I'm not in any position to wipe my ass with 17 dollars and throw it in the toilet and flush it away to China or anywhere else, for that matter.

Heidi and I went running last night and I told her that if anyone gets in my way during the Turkey Trot, I'm going to push them over. Or trip them. Or kick them in the babymaker. This was after I grabbed my boobs and jumped up and down to demonstrate how much they DIDN'T EVEN MOVE because I was wearing two sports bras. Apparently SOMEONE needs to work on her race etiquette before Thanksgiving.

You got no money for the petrol, that's what I heard

YOU GUYS. Gas went up again today. WTF? It was like, cheap yesterday and then today it was like BAM COME ONE COME ALL for some ass raping over at the gas station. I give up.

Speaking of no money, I have come up with a new experiment. We'll see how long this last but HERE IT IS. I have several upcoming events and I am very excited about all of them but they all require more money than I have at present. So I've decided that I'm only going to spend money on necessities for the next few months. This means, obviously, rent, bills, food (so I don't starve), bathroom products (so I don't smell), and clothing but ONLY if the clothing I have is falling apart at the seams. Alright, I'm not going to be that much of a hardass about it, but you know what I mean. In any case, I'm no longer allowed to run through Wendy's because I'm too lazy to cook food we have at our apartment or go to Target because I'm bored and buy a bunch of crap I don't need. Why, just today, I kept myself from buying every t-shirt on Threadless's website AND THEY ARE HAVING THEIR $10 SALE SO THAT'S SAYING A LOT. Breathe, Jennie.

Here's my dilemma. I realize that for a lot of (sad) people, books are not a necessity, but I would rather go without food than go without books so I think I'm going to say buying books is allowed but only if I do it at the used bookstore. This is OK, right?

I'm actually not allowed to make this decision on my own. Remember last year when Heidi and Mary made my decisions for me? I decided I liked that a lot better and Heidi also liked the idea so Heidi is going to make my decisions and I'm going to make her decisions. So far, no huge decisions have had to be made, but I'm totally ready to tell her NOT to tell Ross she's in love with him.

But you ain't got no legs, Lieutenant Dan.

If you guys think I blabber a lot of nonsense on my blog, you should just be glad you don't live with me. I tell the Internets a lot of crazy, but Heidi has to listen to it ALL THE TIME. She knows the grossest thing I have ever done. That is not a link to the grossest thing I have ever done because I am NEVER WRITING ABOUT THAT (on here anyway) but it is a link to when I told Heidi the grossest thing I've ever done and she didn't blink an eye. She also has to hear about me worry about the fate of NOT ONLY Harry Potter, but Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood and LUPIN AND TONKS and she has NO IDEA who any of these people are.

If you lived with me, Internets, you would have had to listen to me ramble on and on about the following:

• Last night, I watched My Super Ex-Girlfriend and when Heidi came home from working late, she had to listen to me bitch about how you just KNOW that movie was written by a man because Uma Thurman goes crazy on Luke Wilson for NO REASON other than he breaks up with her, because women are nutso and become unhinged even when the guy is completely nice about it and ALSO how the misogynistic subtext made me want to hurl because Eddie Izzard was trying to strip Uma of all her superpowers and really I thought the entire movie was just an excuse to have two hot women have a superpower catfight over some schlub like Luke Wilson. And I LIKE Luke Wilson but COME ON.
• One of our employees has a child named Destiny, and I told Heidi it's going to be awesome when Destiny has a kid so someone can be all, "Who is that kid? Oh, that's Destiny's child."
• One night I was talking about how I would rather gouge out my eyes than do something (go to the gym?) and went on to explain that I would do so by taking a spoon and inserting it into my eye socket and then POP goes my eyeball.
• I told you guys about how I think Hey There Delilah is stalking me, but Heidi is the one who has to hear me rant about it every time I hear the song on the radio.
• I got something from my OB/GYN the other day saying I have to fill out my health history online before my appointment. I thought about doing it at work but then I realized that the IT department has access to everything we do on our computers and I'm just not sure I'm comfortable with any of them knowing that much about my lady parts.
• Last night at the gym, the movie in the Cardio Cinema was Forrest Gump which . . . awesome, I love that movie. And it took me a long time to love that movie because my name is Jennie and I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard "me and Jenny was like peas and carrots," because I would be RICH. Anyway, when we got home I made a point to tell Heidi I really like movies about mentally handicapped people. Rainman, Forrest Gump, and What's Eating Gilbert Grape are all in my top 10 favorite movies. OK, maybe top 20. Whatever.

See, aren't you glad you don't have to listen to any of that? I mean, you can stop reading it at any time, but until Heidi tears her ears off, she's stuck with it. And unlike eyeballs, I don't know of a quick and efficient way to remove ears.

Hey, just so you know, it's NOT that common, it DOESN'T happen to every guy, and it IS a big deal!

As you might have gathered from my roommate's comment to my last post (Too busy to go look at it? Here: "I almost quit reading this because I was bored. How do we live together? We couldn't be more different. Except for the Friends obsession thing." That's what she said hahahahahahaha um, anyway), we are very different. She likes country music. I like . . . well, pretty much anything else, but namely whiny indie rock. She thinks Kenny Chesney is the epitome of hotness, I think he looks like George Costanza. WHAT? That's not that harsh, she calls John Mayer "Fugs." It's pretty safe to say that we will never fight over the same man, because we have very different requirements for how a guy might get invited to our pants party. Which is good, because it means my claims on Jake Gyllenhaal and John Krasinski are safe.

We differ on more than just music and men. Given the chance, I could easily become one of those hermit-type cat ladies who stays inside all the time so she won't have to talk to anyone, unless it's through text messaging or The Internets. It's not that I dislike people as a whole . . . oh wait, that's exactly what it is. Heidi actually likes to go out and do stuff, but the majority of the time I'd be perfectly happy to sit at home by myself drinking wine and watching the same movies over and over.

Also? Heidi is in a four-year-old, committed relationship and I . . . have no idea what it is I'm doing, but it sure as hell doesn't involve commitment. Or four-year-olds, for that matter, because that would be wrong and very, very gross. I'm sure one day I might be able to trick someone into marrying me, but until then I will wander the Earth alone just like the Incredible Hulk. And Carrot Top.

Heidi likes to shop. OK, loves to shop. I find it a pain in the ass to shop and the only things I really like buying are shoes and t-shirts, and even then I'd rather do it over The Internets. She's never seen or read Pride & Prejudice. I've never listened to a Kenny Chesney song all the way through on purpose. She's a little bit country. I'm a little bit rock & roll. Well, she LIKES country and is FROM the country and if I'm a little bit rock & roll, it's the really nerdy kind. Like Weezer. ANOTHER THING I love that she does not.

You know how I procrastinate? Oh, OK, well, I procrastinate. A lot. Heidi does not. I don't think she understands just why I procrastinate so much and I certainly don't understand the inclination to get things done right away. What would I worry about if I didn't have all of those self-inflicted deadlines hanging over my head? Seriously. If I didn't have stuff to worry about, I'd have to invent stuff to worry about and I DO THAT ANYWAY so I really don't have time to argue about this right now, OK?!

We do agree on the important things, though. Miller Lite over Bud Light. Bridal showers are icky and boring, unless they serve alcohol. Cooking is hard*. But most important? We both know WITHOUT A DOUBT that absolutely anything in life can be related back to Friends. Amazing? I KNOW!

*bonus to this link: it's The One With the Bag of Semen (not a real Friends episode)

You think that because I'm a movie star I don't have feelings. Well you're wrong. I'm an actress. I've got all of them!

Heidi (Roommate) asks: When are you going to fix your coffeemaker? When are we going to fix our light in the kitchen? When are we going to paint?

And she should really know the answer to these questions is NEVER. Because I am involved and when I am involved that means Procrastination is involved and when PROCRASTINATION is involved . . . well, you know. The other night, I was looking through the benefits package I got when I started my new job, which is kind of amazing because I still have two more weeks before I have to turn anything in. So, I mean, the fact that I'm looking at it before the last day is pretty unbelievable, right? Anyway, Conversations With My Roommate blah blah blah:

Me [singing]: I would like medical insurance . . . donde esta my medical insurance form?
Heidi: Yeah, you need medical insurance to treat your gonorrhea.
Me: Hey!
Heidi: Or is it syphilis*?
Me: My away message now says "Heidi is mean."
Heidi: It's not my fault you have gonorrhea.
Me: True enough.
Heidi: The oral herpes, on the other hand . . .
Me: What is wrong with you?

Heidi makes fun of me a lot. I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me. I mean, I bring it on myself. Most of the time. That time earlier this week when she made fun of my short, stubby ponytail, that was uncalled for. My hair is growing as fast as it can! Leave it alone! At least it's a ponytail, even if it is a short, stubby one. Today, however, when she made fun of me for freaking out about the word "we?" Totally my fault. I could tell you why I freaked out but it wouldn't make sense to you. It barely made sense to me and it ended with her calling me Robin Scherbatsky (How I Met Your Mother . . . geez, look it up) partly because I am afraid of commitment just like Robin but mostly for reasons that probably only make sense to Heidi. Also me. That's it, though.

Aaaaanyway, so I get made fun of a lot. Just a few minutes ago she laughed at me for telling her to throw the last potato away so we didn't get a potato disease, but if you had seen the weird growths on this potato you wouldn't want to eat it either.

*Other reasons I get made fun of? I say things like "Man, I always spell syphilis wrong." Out loud. In front of people.

I felt like I could just fly, but nothing happened every time I tried.

I've had a lot of roommates over the years. OK, not that many, really. And aside from freshman year of college, I was friends with all of them. For some reason my freshman year roommate, the one who only went to Wittenberg because her boyfriend already did and who didn't sleep in our room after Thanksgiving and also who didn't move her textbooks from a towering pile on her desk all of second semester . . . she and I did not become great friends. Probably because one time I accidentally locked her out of our room when she was in the shower. Also, I was always in our room with one friend or another which meant she and her boyfriend had to have sex in his room and I don't know if you remember what the guys dorm floors smelled like, but it is a smell that TO THIS DAY haunts my dreams. Anyway. She and I? Not so much what you'd call close.

My current roommate, however? Freaking kicks ass. I don't want to make you jealous or anything, but when I got home on Sunday she had folded a load of my laundry that I'd left in the dryer all weekend. I have a habit of doing that. And last night she shared her wine with me and I think she even gave me the bigger glass. She is either really generous or was trying to get me drunk so she could take advantage of me. I'm leaning toward the former. I would say out of all of my roommates, Heidi and I get along the best. Which is saying a lot, I think, because all of my other roommates were when I was in college and while there is a lot of stress in college (like, say, choosing between writing a paper or going to the bar and THEN writing a paper), it's nothing to compare to the stress of choosing between paying rent and buying groceries. Not that we've ever had to do that. Yet, anyway.

And also? When I e-mailed her and told her I'd finally gotten the phone call I'd been waiting for, and that it was good news, her response was, "now, of course, we need to go shopping." Because we do. It is necessary. Because I can't keep borrowing Heidi's grown-up clothes. I mean, yeah, we're close, but we're not the Sweet Valley Twins. We don't even look alike.

Well, let’s hit up Yahoo Maps to find the dopest route. I prefer Mapquest. That's a good one, too. Google maps is the best, true that DOUBLE TRUE.

I was all set to get pissed with Punxsutawney Phil and threaten to kill him and punch him in the babymaker and roast him in our fireplace, but he's getting a slight reprieve because I did not have to risk life and limb by trying to make it into work this morning. That's right, friends, I got a snow day. SNOW. DAY. And while as a tiny child I would have immediately run out into the frigid cold snow to build a snowman or snowangel or some other snownonsense, today I plan on spending the day in my pjs, alternating between napping on the couch watching TiVo and napping in my bed "reading" a book. Funny story (not really), I have seven library books and countless books I have purchased that I have not yet read (although I did finally finish Lolita), said library books are rapidly approaching their due date and I have decided to read Bridget Jones's Diary for the 18th time. I have a problem but at least I am not afraid to admit it.

Last night, Heidi and I got stuck in some strange wormhole at the gym and didn't end up getting home until 10:30. PM! Then we spent a good 30 minutes mapquesting different destinations. It's more fun than it sounds. It's kind of like traveling without having to pack or put shoes on or find a rest stop that doesn't look like a scene out of a horror movie when you have to pee so bad you're afraid your bladder is going to explode out of your stomach (or wherever) and you'll never make it to your destination and if you do you'll have urine and pieces of bladder all over you. I'm sorry for that image. ANYWAY. I should tell you . . . this is the longest, most pointless Conversation With My Roommate in the history of Conversations With My Roommate. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Me: Do you know how far away Knoxville is?
Heidi: Not really. I think it's near Nashville.
Me: Hmm.
Heidi: Let's Mapquest it!
Me: OK!
Heidi: 4 hours, 51 minutes, that's not bad.
Me: Let's see how far Nashville is.
Heidi: OK.
Me: 5 hours, 19 minutes.
Heidi: So basically a difference of half an hour.
Me: I thought they were farther away from each other than that.
Heidi: Me too. Ooh, I know, Mapquest how far it is from Nashville to Knoxville.
Me: Oh. 2 hours, 47 minutes.
Heidi: OK, then.
Me: Let's see how far Boston is!
Heidi: OK.
Me: 13 hours, 26 minutes.
Heidi: Damn. What about Atlantic City? I bet it's far.
Me: 9 hours, 52 minutes . . . what about New Orleans?
Heidi: Yeah!
Me: 13 hours, 7 minutes.
Heidi: Washington DC?
Me: I've never been there.
Heidi: It's fun.
Me: 7 hours, 57 minutes.
Heidi: How about the North Pole?
Me: I think we might have a little trouble driving there.
Heidi: OK. How about Juneau, Alaska?
Me: HAHAHA.
Heidi: No, seriously.
Me: Why can't Mapquest find it?
Heidi: Because Alaska's state code is AK, not AL.
Me: Oh man. Don't tell anyone I did that.
Heidi: OK.
Me: It's good to know there's not a Juneau, Alabama, though.
Heidi: Truly.
Me: HA! It takes 63 hours!
Heidi: Let's leave now!
Me: It'd be a beautiful drive.
Heidi: We'd get to go through Canada.
Me: Ooh, speaking of Canada . . .
Heidi: Windsor?
Me: Heck yes!
Heidi: Yessssss!
Me: Holy shit, it's only 3 and a half hours!
Heidi: Let's go!
Me: Yeah, you can drink there when you're 19!
Heidi: Um.
Me: And I know I'm well over age 19 but still . . . it's the principle
Heidi: True. Ooh, Mapquest San Juan, Mexico.
Me: OK. Wait, there's no code for Mexico.
Heidi: Try MX.
Me: Um. It only has codes for Canada, not Mexico.
Heidi: Racists.
Me: Wait, isn't San Juan in Puerto Rico?
Heidi: Yeah.
Me: Oh my god.
Heidi: Yeah.
Me: I think this is veering into Conversations With My Roommate territory.
Heidi: I think you're right.
Me: Geez.
Heidi: Ooh! Mapquest Honolulu, Hawaii.
Me: Um, once again, I think we might have a problem driving there.
Heidi: Just try it, I wanna see what it says!
Me: OK. It says, "We are having trouble finding a route for your locations. Please try modifying the information you entered."
Heidi: Damn, I was hoping it would say something like, "Please vacate your car and start swimming."
Me: Why don't they just build a bridge from Hawaii to the mainland?
Heidi: Yeah! It would help with their tourism.
Me: And if anyone needs help with tourism, it's Hawaii.

If you made it all the way through that, I hope you learned something. Other than how bad at geography Heidi and I are.

He’s always up in my bid-ness. Which is ebonics for “being in my face and annoying the bejesus out of me.”

Last night, Grey's Anatomy made Heidi and I cry like little girlie men. Stupid show! Making me cry! Damn you! Then, we decided to do Pilates because we fell off the wagon yesterday, and we laughed hysterically through the first five minutes of it. I don't know why, but it's really hard to concentrate on your breathing when you're laughing so hard it feels like your face is going to drip off onto the ground. Have you ever laughed that hard? I highly recommend it. Anyway, I wondered how we could go straight from crying to hysterical laughter and Heidi said it was because we're cold-hearted bitches. Good to know.

These are things that annoy me today:

• When I start telling a story and someone says, "Oh, I already read about that on your blog." So, not only am I running out of things to talk about on here, I'm running out of things to talk about in real life. Good to know.
• Cold weather.
• Seriously, cold weather. I hate wearing a coat. So today? Even though it is snowing? I wore a fleece vest. And gloves! The gloves totally make up for the no coat.
• When people don't change the jug on the water cooler at work. I am a tiny, weak, little girl! And yet I'm the one who always changes it BY MYSELF.
• We were out of yogurt, so I had to have a stinky granola bar for breakfast.
• People who say "irregardless," but really that annoys me every day.

Things that make me happy today:

• It's Friday.
• Coffee.
• I'm alone at work.
• Seriously, it's Friday.
• I heard this song on the way to work this morning. PS: Enjoy that video.
• Did I mention it's Friday?

Tonight, Heidi and I are going over to Stiffie's for dinner and drinks. The last time we did this, several bottles of wine were killed in the process and I called Heidi's boyfriend and pretended to be the pope. Because her boyfriend is Catholic? I don't know. Anyway, aren't you jealous that I have a friend named Stiffie? You should be. Although, that is not her real name. Wouldn't it be amazing if it were, though? What if she was President! President Stiffie LastName! Wow. I'll have to talk to her about that tonight. I'll let you know how it goes because I'm sure you're dying, JUST DYING, to know.

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.