Oh, the dashboard melted, but we still have the radio.

Every morning, I drive though this busy intersection. It just so happens that once you go through this intersection, the right lane almost immediately ends. Everyone knows this. And every morning, I get in the left lane and wait patiently in line while self-important assholes speed by in the right lane so they can get in front of the long line of cars. I used to stick close to the bumper of the car in front of me so these assholes couldn't get in, because I am a mean and hateful person and pissing people off sometimes makes me happier than it should. I didn't care if they got in front of the car in FRONT of me as long as they weren't directly in front of me. And it made me giggle inside to watch them slam on their brakes and swerve into line behind me. But then I realized I just didn't care. There are so many other things I could be worrying about. And anyway. Carma's a bitch. I'm sorry. That was lame and I'm pretty sure that's not even the first time I've said it. Sad.

I used to be one of you crazy, swerving, speeding assholes. But I don't drive like a crazy person anymore because I've decided I like living. ALSO I've discovered that it's much more fun to piss people off by driving the speed limit. And then? When they can't pass you? Turn right somewhere as slooooowly as you can. I think I almost made a lady's head explode one day. Best. Day. Ever.

The other reason I decided to start going the speed limit is that I can't really afford to pay for a ticket. I mean, sure, it'd be super fun to blow $50 on something I don't need, but I'd rather blow it on shoes or liquor or black market babies. I still have my fingers crossed that I won't get a ticket in the mail from the state of Illinois because of those tollbooths I accidentally ran through the last time I went to Chicago. Oops.

I'm not saying I'm always a perfect angel while driving. On my bad days, I can be as road-ragey as the next person. And, for the sake of my own sanity (what's left of it), I lift all non-speeding, non-swerving, non-crazy rules when I'm driving in downtown Chicago, where obviously the only way to drive is with your fingers crossed and your eyes closed.

a fist, a hand, hoocha hoocha hoocha . . . lobster

I could tell you I've never been this tired in my life, but I'd probably be lying. In fact, I'm so tired that I can't remember if I've ever been this tired in my life. So that's a problem. A tiny problem, I'll admit, but a problem.

Oh, Internets. It was sort of a disastrous weekend. I feel like I spent most of it in my car stuck in traffic because of the fucking tolls in Chicago. The traffic was so bad that even though I left the city for Barrington (where? yeah, I don't know either) an hour and a half early, I was two minutes late for the ceremony. And when I got there, they told me that since the ceremony had already started I couldn't go in. I thought about going all Jon Secada and pounding on a window and screaming until they let me in, but I couldn't see any windows overlooking the ceremony so instead I went out to my car and cried. I mean, yeah, it's not very productive but I felt better afterward. The reception was fun, although I couldn't dance very well because I think the dress I borrowed from Heidi was just a tiny bit too small and I was afraid one of my boobs would fall out and nothing ruins a reception faster than some guest who didn't even make it to the ceremony having a wardrobe malfunction. True story. After the ceremony, I changed my clothes in my car but it was OK because almost everyone was gone and it was really dark and now that I think about it maybe it's not a good idea to change your clothes in a dark, secluded parking lot if you're a woman and alone and in a strange town. Oh well. On the way home, this will surprise you, I got really lost in Chicago but it wasn't my fault because Mapquest gave me the wrong directions. Fucking Mapquest. When I finally got back to Mary's, I found the last parking spot in the $5 parking lot and gave her doorman my sob story about the traffic and the wedding and the getting lost and he let me into Mary's apartment. I guess I don't look very threatening (little does he know). Oh and I also accidentally ran through a toll without paying on the way to the wedding. Oops.

There were other small disasters. Not as disastrous as, I don't know, missing the wedding, but still. At dinner Friday night, there was a tiny mishap with a full margarita and I ended up wearing it. As I sat there, staring at the sticky mess in my lap, I wondered if I should just give up and go home but NO I went into the bathroom (thankfully it was a one person bathroom and not one with a bunch of stalls) and took off my shirt and pants and dried them under the hand dryer. And that is how I ended up half naked in a restaurant bathroom in Chicago. DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU OTHERWISE. Anyway, I spent the rest of the night somewhat sticky and smelling of strawberries.

Also?

Mary: Boyfriend's Friend is hitting on you.
Me: No, he's not.
Erica: Yes, he is.
Me: No, he's not.
Mary: Um, OK.
Me: He has a girlfriend.
Mary: Yeah, he cheats on her a lot.
Me: OH MY GOD! I AM SO SICK OF BOYS! SERIOUSLY! I'm done.
Mary: Please stop yelling.

Then later in the car I yelled some more about something I can't remember. Don't worry, this wasn't angry yelling or anything. It's just that when I drink, my volume goes up to 11 (that's high) and everything I say sounds like angry yelling or at least regular yelling but it's really not.

Yesterday it took us approximately 97 hours to get out of the city and I finally made it home a little after 10. And even though I was exhausted, I couldn't sleep last night. What IS that? I love sleeping! Why doesn't my brain? Sleep is SO GOOD. My brain doesn't even know. Stupid brain, who needs it?

I don't want it to seem like it was a terrible weekend. I had fun. It's just that, you know, shitty things happened. It's OK, though, because yesterday was officially the end of my wedding season. Until October. Sigh.

someday you will find me caught beneath the landslide

Oh, you guys. You guys. I don't know if I'm going to make it to next week. I am still not fully recovered from last weekend, what with the marriage and the drinking and the no sleeping and the Taylor Hicks sighting. This weekend is gearing up to be even crazier. There is another wedding (!!!) on Saturday in Chicago and so I took Friday off (!!!) to drive down (up? over? over and up?) early. I'm staying with my friend Mary. You know what happens when I stay with my friend Mary? So. Many. Things. I never know what to expect because somehow we seem to end up in the strangest places, like Lake Michigan at 4 AM. I say this as if we have no control over where we end up, but if you'd ever had a margarita from this place then you'd know that we DON'T.

SIDENOTE: My Favorite Radio Station Ever is playing Ring of Fire (um, AWESOME) right now and I had to get up and do a little jig. I wish you could have seen it. No. No, I don't. AND NOW they are playing Wonderwall (um, here . . . sure, why not). I want to marry this radio station.

Back to the story. MY POINT IS, I'm not sure if I'll make it back from Chicago. I may need someone to come bail me out of jail. Or help me fish my purse out of Lake Michigan. YOU NEVER KNOW. Maybe I'll meet the man of my dreams at Whitney's wedding and run away to Vegas and get married (HAHAHA!) or, more likely, maybe I will get horribly lost again in underground Chicago and it may take me several weeks to unlose myself.

I'm so tired today. Again, I never fully recovered from last weekend's wedding and I really could have used a sleep-in day on Monday BUT NO I had to get up and go to work. And yet, I haven't used the exhaustion-factor as an excuse not to go to the gym. So weird. Here's the thing, I'm actually starting to look forward to going to the gym because it is like free time for my brain. Normally, my brain is busy working out scenarios, holding imaginary conversations with real people, and freaking out about said scenarios and conversations. When I'm on the elliptical/treadmill/etc, however, I am so focused on how much time I have left because I feel like I'm about to fall onto the floor in a heap where I will then curl into the fetal position until my legs are no longer made out of rubber. Or I'm thinking, "Come on, self! You've almost burned 200 calories! If you keep up this pace, you'll burn at least 500 by the end! WHY ARE YOU SLOWING DOWN, YOU LAZY BITCH! I SAID GO FASTER! STOP STARING AT THE TIME LEFT AND WATCH THE MOVIE! I'M NOT GOING TO QUIT YELLING UNTIL YOU DO WHAT I SAY!"

Ahem. Anyway, there have been some pretty good movies lately at the gym. They gave up (I hope) on weepy, sad-sack movies like Stepmom and The Green Mile and are moving toward more action movies. The other night, they were showing Red Eye and I was SO EXCITED because I have crushes on both Cillian Murphy (even when he's evil) AND Rachel McAdams (especially when she's evil). And last night? They were showing Armageddon . . . which, OK, is a flaming pile of crap but it's still entertaining. Also, Ben Affleck! When I walked into the gym last night I had no idea how long I was going to work out. Then I saw that Armageddon was on and figured that could keep me entertained for a while (see above: Ben Affleck) and decided to do the elliptical for an hour. Because apparently my life is so boring and pathetic that I have nothing better to do than work out. Wah wah wah! Let's all have a pity party for Jennie! Poor Jennie! Don't you just want to buy her cookies? Anyway, an hour on the elliptical was probably unnecessary, especially since they had just painted the entire building or something (?) and the paint fumes were making me kind of lightheaded. More than usual, I mean.