make a little birdhouse in your soul

The week between Christmas and New Year's is so weird. Wow, BOLD STATEMENT, I know. But seriously, what is the point of this week? I'm at work for two days. It was supposed to be three but I got sick on one of them and I'm still a TEENSY bit sick but managed to drag myself into work because no one is here to see how disgusting I am. My old company used to completely close during this week, which I think is the right idea. Nothing of consequence gets done, even if you're at work, because no one else is there so you end up organizing the files on your computer for like an hour NOT THAT I'M SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE OR ANYTHING.

Plus, I just had five days off so it's like my brain has forgotten what it's like to sit in front of a computer for eight hours instead of, um, sitting in front of a TV for eight hours. I KID. My Christmas break was actually pretty busy. My only TV-heavy days were on Christmas Eve night when I wrapped presents and on the day after Christmas because my Community DVDs were seriously begging to be watched. For real. Have you ever seen a DVD beg? It's weird. They talk out of the little hole right in their middle but they don't have teeth or a tongue or lips so it sounds like, "ooooooooooh ooooh oooooh," basically, which I assume means, "WAAAAAAATCH ME, JENNIE, THEN WATCH ALL OF THE DELETED SCENES AND ALSO YOU SHOULD PROBABLY WATCH THE GAG REAL FIVE TIMES BECAUSE OF ALL OF THE LAAAAAUGHTER."

So, yeah. Hey, do you want to know what I watched on Christmas Eve, while drinking wine and wrapping presents and making the basement look like this:

Not actually that messy.

Well, it's your lucky day because I will tell you! I watched a Doctor Who Christmas special, an episode of The X-Files (How the Ghosts Stole Christmas), The Family Stone, and half of Love, Actually. I only saw half because I started it toward the end of my present-wrapping and wine-drinking and I fell asleep halfway through. Wow, good story! Aren't you glad you stuck around for that?

But wait, let's rewind to Friday night! Because why not? I met some friends for dinner and drinks IN THAT ORDER and somehow we ended up here:

SPLORT. That was my brain exploding.

In case you can't tell, that is a magical Christmas wonderland of holiday light magic. Some crazy, lovely people in Springfield decorate their front and back yards with all manner of Christmas decoration and then encourage people to walk through. There's a path through the display, lined with sugarplums and gumdrops. Or just a rope. But whatever, my point is, do you feel it? Do you feel the magic?

Not many people know that elephants and giraffes are actually dinosaurs.

How about now? THAT IS A CHRISTMAS DINOSAUR. That I didn't steal. Because that would have been wrong. And because there wasn't room in the car.

Honestly, the rest of Christmas felt a bit dull after that experience. HAHA JUST KIDDING CHRISTMAS IS AWESOME. We celebrated with my family on Christmas morning and Joe's family in the afternoon and it was a magical, exhausting day, notable mainly because Joe and I got each other the same gift. And not only did we get each other the same gift but it was the same awesome gift, seen HERE on the internet and here in our bathroom:

I AM WATCHING OVER YOU.

Not to put too fine a point on it, Internet, but you're totally the bee in my bonnet. Happy almost New Year.

the not-so-secret circle PART TWO

Did you guys think I was done with this? Because I'm not. It's time for...The Secret Circle: THE CAPTIVE. So, enjoy, you three people who actually know what I'm talking about. Let's get THIS excited:



You may remember that in the first book, Adam and Cassie realized they were MFEO but decided to ignore it, vowing never to hurt Diana blah blah blah, and also the coven released some dark energy from a crystal skull YES I REALLY JUST TYPED THAT.

Following the release of both the dark energy AND Adam and Cassie's pent-up sexual energy, the coven decides to meet at Diana's to trace the dark energy with some crystal pendulum voodoo magic. The crystal leads them to the cemetery (of course!) and they find this giant mound of dirt busted open, which is probably not good. They find out later that SOMEHOW, their principal died in a rock slide, because that's a normal way for principals to die. Cassie is sure the dark energy had something to do with it and wonders if maybe she shouldn't get the crystal skull for Faye. DUH DOY, Cassie.

Oh! I might have forgotten to tell you that Faye told Cassie that if she didn't want Diana to find out that Cassie and Adam had a tongue party on the beach, Cassie has to find the crystal skull and give it to Faye. This is going to be difficult, however, because Diana is "purifying" it and didn't tell anyone what she did with it. 



Cassie changes her mind (again!) about giving the skull to Faye and spends the night at Diana's so she can look for it. She doesn't find it but has a dream about where to look for it. Her dream tells her that in order to purify something, it must be buried in sand, and if that's the case, then the next time Phoebe pukes on my bedspread, I'm going to bury it in sand instead of trying to shove it into the washer.

Anyway. Cassie digs holes all over the beach, looking for the skull. Just randomly. She doesn't try to devise a stratagem or anything, even though everyone knows that stratagems are the shit (see: Amelie). She somehow finds the skull but, as she holds it, she realizes she can't give it to Faye. Doesn't matter, though, because Faye was following her and snatches the skull right out of Cassie's hands. Blah blah more witchcraft. They release more dark energy. How much dark energy is in this thing? Geez.

Nothing bad happens for like a week, other than Diana coming down with a cold right before the big dance. Diana's a total idiot and insists that Cassie go as Adam's date in her place, because she doesn't want Adam to miss the dance and I guess him going by himself wasn't an option? Unfortunately for Diana, all the other girls use their witchy wiles to make Cassie look totally hot. Adam (and every other boy at the dance) is powerless to her charms and by charms I mean boobs. Adam and Cassie make out again (that vow didn't last long) on the dance floor (!!) but somehow no one sees them? What? Cassie gets flustered and runs away to find Deborah, who is playing cards in the boiler room with the Henderson brothers and Freddy Krueger.

She doesn't find them, but she does find Jeffrey Lovegood's body hanging from a pipe, so that's cool. Jeffrey is (was) this popular guy who Faye was after, I think? And he ditched her to dance with Cassie, even though he also has a girlfriend? So the girlfriend and Faye were both pretty mad.

Nick finds Cassie with the body, and soon he, Adam, Deborah, and Cassie are tracking the dark energy through town. They end up at the cemetery, where the dark energy swarms at Deb and Cassie (uh-huh) and Cassie loses the crystal necklace that Melanie had given her. She goes back to the cemetery later, to try and find the necklace, and notices the gravestones of all of the coven parents. They all died in 1976. Diana tells Cassie it was because of a hurricane. A MAGIC hurricane, I bet.

Whatever. There's another dance coming up, the HALLOWEEN dance, which is super special because did you know? They're witches. And Halloween is WITCHY. Cassie tries to ask Nick to the dance but he blows her off because he's busy working on his car because HE IS A MAN. She's embarrassed, so naturally she decides to hang out with the Weasley Henderson twins and they steal pumpkins BECAUSE THEY ARE BAD. Then they go to some Salem witch trial museum because they want to scare people (BECAUSE THEY ARE BAD) but Cassie freaks out because she realizes that all of the murders that have happened recently are JUST LIKE what happened to the people accused of being witches a million years ago. GASP!



I'm tired. Is this over yet?

Cassie finds a black rock called a hematite. It's her "working stone" which...omg, who cares. It's not important. What is important is that she found it in the ruins of a house (Number 13, oooooh) at the end of their street. Later, the Coven traces some dark energy (more?) to the same ruins, and Cassie learns that Black John (remember him?) used to live there. The house burned down years ago, right around the time all the parents died.

Cassie and Nick DO end up going to the dance together, in case you were worried. Were you worried? Don't lie, I know you were. Everyone dresses up in what I'm sure they think are totally "deep" costumes but are really just kind of obvious and sad, like, Suzan dresses up like Aphrodite and Laurel is a wood nymph (heh) or something and Diana as a good witch and Faye as a bad witch and omg all of you just dress like slutty bunnies or something, OK? You're 16.



After the dance, they go to Number 13 to perform a ceremony that will call up Black John's spirit because that's something that sounds like it will end well. They call up four circles of protection around them, earth, fire, wind air, water, (heart!) and do witchy things to pull Black John's spirit out of the crystal skull. They're successful! But oops, Black John goes after Cassie, Adam goes through the four circles of protection to save her (which is apparently a big deal), and then everything is over. OR IS IT?

No. It's not. So. Remember how Faye is blackmailing Cassie because she knows that Cassie and Adam are makeout buddies? Well, it's time for the Coven to elect a permanent leader and Faye wants Cassie's vote. This is a problem because DUH Faye is BAD and Diana is GOOD so obviously Diana should be the leader. Whatever, long story short (LIES), Cassie does as told and Faye is elected leader. Everyone is shocked (SHOCKED!) that Cassie would vote for Faye.



Faye wastes no time in fucking shit up, and takes the crystal skull and most of the Coven to the cemetery. They do some magics or something and OOPS AGAIN (this story is full of oopses) they release Black John from the skull. I guess. The skull exploded, along with some weird, old mound at the cemetery that I guess was his grave? I don't remember. I read this like a month ago.

They realize something is seriously wrong when they see a red, glowy light over Cassie's grandma's house. I guess it's never good to have red, glowy light over your house, especially if you're a witch. They go inside and there's an EVIL red light inside, causing everything to look all weird DUH. They find Cassie's mom, who is alive, but comatose, which really isn't a problem because I forgot Cassie even had a mom. It's a bit traumatizing, though, when they find Cassie's grandma in the kitchen, dying all over the floor.

Black John was there, says Grandma Howard, and he was looking for their Book of Shadows. And even though grandma is dying, she still has time for a story. YES. I LOVE STORY TIME.

Grandma tells Cassie that their family has always had the strongest sight of all the witch families, making them the best, so IN YOUR FACE, EVERYONE ELSE. A long time ago, on a street far, far away except not really because it was the same street they're on right now, all of their parents had their own Secret Circle. One day, a "man in black" showed up, not to erase their memories or sing Ring of Fire to them, but to be Head Coven Leader or something. He took charge, making sure that certain members of that Coven hooked up and had babies, which is totally gross and you have to wonder why those kids would have listened to him. Drugs? Maybe.

Anyway, they found out later that this man in black was not Johnny Cash, but Black John (omg what if Johnny Cash WAS Black John), and that the reason he hooked up certain members of the Coven is because he wanted them to all have super powerful witch babies that he could mold into evil witches so he could control them and be their leader when they grew up, yes, you read that right.

Naturally, some of the parents were like, "oh hell no," (but only the brave ones) and when they confronted Black John about it, he caused the magical hurricane that killed them. I don't remember if Black John died at that time or was, like, banished back into the crystal skull, but Grandma tells Cassie that he's BACK. As a real person, like Pinocchio, but evil. Well. Eviler.

Then Grandma Howard dies, but not before saying something super cryptic that will leave Cassie really confused for most of the next book.

Cassie's pretty upset at this point and decides she's done with Faye's blackmail bullshit. She goes to Faye and is all, "this is your fault and I hate you and this sucks, how about instead of blackmailing me, you come over this weekend to watch Dawson's Creek with me?" and Faye is all, "only if you agree that Dawson is Joey's soulmate!" because Faye is EVIL but then Cassie is like, "OMG FAYE, NO, YOU ARE THE WORST, PACEY FOREVER."

OK, none of that happened but Cassie did tell Faye that she's not going to be blackmailed any longer, so Faye is all, "OH IT IS ON NOW, TINY ONE," and she starts to speak to the rest of the Circle and that's where the book ends.

Tune in next time for...The Secret Circle: THE POWER.

before anyone asks, NO, I have not been smoking anything

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Beatrice. Beatrice was British (naturally) and hated her name, except for when her father called her "Sweet Bea."

Beatrice wished she had a lovely, normal name, like her new pet Bill. Bill was a time traveling dinosaur and lived under her bed. Obviously, he was not a fully grown dinosaur. Not yet anyway. Beatrice assumed that a fully grown brontosaurus would eventually present some problems, especially since her parents didn't yet know about Bill, but for now he was perfectly happy squeezing his bulky body under her bed.

Beatrice went to the kitchen and made wheat toast with blackberry jam for herself and white toast with butter and honey for Bill. She carried her tray of toast and juice (orange for her, grape for Bill) to her room, tiptoeing past her slumbering parents' room. They'd thrown a loud party last night and sometimes her mother got the flu after parties like that, so Beatrice wanted to be extra quiet.

"Morning, Bill!" she said when she got to her room. He was stretched out on her bed so she shut her bedroom door.

"Morning, Princess Fiona," Bill said.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I want to be Princess Fiona today," said Beatrice. "After all, I was Princess Fiona all day yesterday."

"Alright, then, who shall it be today?" Bill asked.

"I think . . . Amelia."

"Bedelia?"

"No, silly, EARHART," she said.

"Oh, of course." Bill yawned and rolled off of the bed to do his morning jumping jacks. Beatrice winced every time he landed and the whole house shook.

"Bill, I wish you'd do your jumping jacks outside," Beatrice said.

"I know, Amelia, but it's raining again." Bill wasn't used to England's cold, rainy weather, since he was originally from Utah. Of course, it wasn't called Utah back then.

"Bill, where should we go today?" Beatrice asked.

"It's up to you. I've been everywhere."

"Well," Beatrice pondered. "We could go back to the African safari."

"We could. Although, last time we were almost eaten by a pack of lions," Bill said. He stretched and yawned.

"I know, it was so exciting!"

"Can we go somewhere we're not on the menu, please?"

"OK," Beatrice sighed. "How about London?"

"Darling, we're in London."

"I KNOOOOW we're in London, I meant FUTURE London," Beatrice said and rolled her eyes.

"Circa?"

"Um . . . 2067?"

"OK, let's go," Bill said and put on his favorite vest. It was green and fuzzy and had huge purple buttons.

"Brilliant! Just a second, though, I need my time traveling goggles."

"You realize those are really swimming goggles, don't you?" he asked.

"Not when I'm wearing them to TIME TRAVEL, they're not."

"Of course, how silly of me."


To be continued. Maybe. If I don't forget about it.

_____

Today on The Collective, Heather gets the shit kicked out of her by love.

don't steal my idea or I'll cut you

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Jennie. Jennie took a writing class in high school and the teacher was all, "write a children's book," and Jennie was like, "I can do this, I work at a library and spend the majority of my time there reading picture books," and then the teacher was like, "also, illustrate it," and Jennie was all, "fuck!" and then, "I will make the pictures out of construction paper!" And then a bunch of years passed and Abigail told Jennie to find this book. So Jennie found this book. (Abigail is bossy, but she gets results.)

I have provided the words under each picture in case you can't make them out. I'd hate for you to miss them. My comments are at the very end.

1.

A long time ago, before humans were in charge, colors ruled the earth. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet. They were all very powerful, but each Color thought he was more powerful than the others were.

2.

"I am the best," said Blue. "I am the ocean and the sky. I am the calm that is carried on the gentle breeze. That is why I am the best."

3.

"How boring!" Red cried. "I am Christmas and the smell of cinnamon. I am welcome anger that comes like a quick storm."

4.

"That's nothing," Violet said. "I am the slurpy taste of grape juice on a hot day. I am the best, because I am the sharing that comes after the anger."

5.

"You are all wrong," Indigo chimed in. "I am the best. I am the first flower that appears when the winter snow melts. I am clarity that spreads after a season of confusion."

6.

"Well, I am spring!" shouted Green. "I am a frog that takes shape out of a floating lily pad and the miles upon miles of grass covered fields. So I am the best."

7.

"I am definitely better than all of you," Orange said. "I am the sunrise and a Halloween pumpkin. I am autumn, so I am the best."

8.

"Ha!" Yellow cried. "I am the sun and the moon and the stars. I am happiness. None of you can beat that! I am the greatest."

9.

"Excuse me, please," a gentle voice said from the sky. "I am trying to sleep. Please try to be a little quieter."

"Why should we?" Red shouted. "We are Colors! We don't HAVE to be quiet! Who do you think you are, anyway?"

10.

"Well," the voice began. "I am Cloud. I have always been here and will always be here. You may think you are the greatest, just because you are a Color, but I am the only one who can bring all of you together."

11.

With that said, Cloud turned black and fierce. White lightning made up her hair and she began to weep. Her tears covered the earth until everything sparkled.

12.

Cloud finished crying and became white again. The Colors shot out of her middle, all working together to create a rainbow. Puddles of her tears on the ground turned red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet.

THE END.

Wow. Just . . . wow. I'm pretty sure, at the time, I thought I was being really deep, which . . . no. The Colors are all assholes and why is the Cloud all up in their business? Also, Indigo is full of shit. That sure looks like pink to me. But what I think happened is THEY DON'T MAKE INDIGO CONSTRUCTION PAPER AND I DIDN'T KNOW THAT UNTIL AFTER I WROTE THE STORY AND CUT OUT HALF OF THE PICTURES AND BY THEN IT WAS TOO LATE BLAAAAAAARGH.

And no one threw a knife at anyone? LAME.

_____

Today on The Collective, Kat outs herself as a bit of a stalker.

Roads? Where we're going we don't need roads.

This morning I fell into a wormhole. It happened while I was in the middle of getting ready, right after I'd finished drying my hair but before I'd put on any pants. I think the wormhole is somewhere in the vicinity of my closet, because that's where I seem to have lost the most time. At first, I fell into this wormhole and looked around and was all, "where are all my clothes?" because all I could see was a smooth see-through tube all around me and then I was like, "a wormhole? Seriously?" But whatever, I'd fallen into a wormhole, what could I do? I had to float around in it until it spat me out on the other side. I was just pissed because wormholes are really cold (who knew?) and I wasn't wearing pants. I mean, if I'd KNOWN I was going to fall into a wormhole, I would have put on a parka or long johns or something.

While I was floating around and shivering and trying to come up with a good excuse for being late to work that didn't include the words "pantsless" or "wormhole," this dwarf suddenly appeared next to me.

"Um, hi," I said.

"Hi. What's all this then?" he asked.

"Wormhole."

"Ah."

We floated in silence for a bit and then I asked his name and where he came from.

"My name is Algar. I come from a land called Dwarfatania," he explained.

"Where's that?"

"It's like 30 minutes south of Narnia, if you take Highway Fairy Princess and get off at the exit for Puck's Joke Shop."

"Oh."

"What is your name? What land do you come from?" Algar asked.

"Jennie. Ohio."

"Ohio. That sounds magical."

"It's not."

"Oh."

Then Algar disappeared. I don't know where he went. Such is the magic of wormholes. Eventually, I got out of the wormhole. I don't know how. Such is the magic of wormholes. I was a little disappointed that I didn't run into Jake Gyllenhaal, but there was a silver lining to this wormhole. When I got to work (late), I explained to my boss about the wormhole and when I got to the part about Algar, she sent me home for some reason! Something about not coming to work drunk anymore, I'm not sure.

_____

Today on The Collective, boys are smelly. True story.

I am, I am, I am Superman. And I can do anything.

This morning on the radio, the DJ was talking about how a lot more people are going green when they die. Not like, turning green, which I imagine sometimes happens, but being all environmentally conscious when they choose their final resting place. Apparently this means instead of a cement thingie, you get something else (I was not using 100% of my paying attention skills, in case you can't tell) and instead of using formaldehyde, you use dry ice. And probably some other stuff, too. And the DJ was like, "I think this is excessive," and started talking about how he buys the fancy lightbulbs that are good for the environment and rides his bike or rollerblades or a hoverboard or something, but he thinks going green when you die is dumb because there are already a lot of dead people buried and he doesn't understand how NOT going green when you die affects the environment. And even though I don't really understand the particulars, I was all, "What the crap, DJ? If you don't know what you're talking about then shut UP because you are on the radio and, I don't know if you know this, but a lot of people can hear you." At least when I babble on and on about stuff I don't really know anything about, my audience is a lot smaller.

And anyway. I think everyone should be cremated, if only so they can't one day rise from the grave and start The Zombie Apocalypse. And I think we all know that, providing there's not a rage-monkey outbreak, that's how it's all going down.

_____

Today on The Collective, PROCRASTINATORS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!

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.

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

story of my life

After work, I went to Jiffy Lube because my car needed an oil change. Duh. It's not like I go hang out at Jiffy Lube just for the hell of it. And you know, their name is right on, because they lubed my car SO FAST. True story.

Anyway, when I got home, I checked the mail like always and as I was flipping through all the crap, I noticed a little postcard that said "$15 OFF" and underneath it said "SIGNATURE OIL CHANGE," and I was all WTF, why does God hate me?

take me, take me to the riot

It didn't take us long to decide what bar to go to Friday night. We went to BoJangles because we thought there'd be karaoke. There was not, unfortunately, but the DJ was playing fairly good music so we stayed. We got some beer, Steve bought shots (thanks, Steve) and then I made a tower out of shot glasses and an empty pitcher and it fell over and one of the shot glasses broke.

I don't remember who said this: Did you break that shot glass?
Me: Yes.
IDRWST: How?
Me: I was making a tower.
IDRWST: Why?
Me: . . . I dunno.

Then, to get rid of the evidence, I threw the broken shot glass away in the bathroom. I thought this would be the biggest mishap of the evening, but THEN my parents decided to stop by and that's when all hell broke loose.

Hokay. So. If the bouncers hadn't stepped in, this would have been the statement I gave the police, because I'm pretty sure someone would have gotten their ass kicked or thrown in jail:

Slutty Girl who had been dancing like a stripper all night approaches our table. She asks my dad what time it is, but she has her cell phone out.

Mom: Just look at your phone.
Slutty Girl: [indecipherable screeching and yelling at my mom]
Mom: Go away!

Slutty Girl yells more. Mom yells more. I start yelling. Slutty Girl starts waving finger around in Mom's face. Mom gets up. Slutty Girl shoves Mom. I stand up and approach Slutty Girl, put my hand on her chest and push her back.

Me: That's my mom!
Slutty Girl: [more screeching]

Slutty Girl pushes me. Mary gets up. Mary pushes Slutty Girl. Dad grabs my arm and tells me to sit down. I do not.

Slutty Girl to Mary: I'm gonna kick your ass!
Mary: Bring it on, bitch!*

Bouncers break in and push Slutty Girl toward the door. Mary follows. I try and follow Mary, but another bouncer grabs my arm and won't let me.

Me: Let me go, that's my friend.
Bouncer: It's OK, they're kicking that girl out.
Me: . . . I just want to go over there.
Bouncer: No.
Me: But . . .
Bouncer: No.

Bouncers kick Slutty Girl and her (slutty) friend out of the bar. Victory! Later, Slutty Girl and her friend try to come back into the bar and are immediately kicked out again. As she was leaving (again!), she pointed at our table all "I am going to slash your tires or your throat, I'M NOT SURE WHICH YET," and later, as the bar was closing, a bouncer came over and told us that Slutty Girl was waiting outside for us. We had a shot, stood around talking about what a moron she was because THERE WERE SIX OF US and also the bouncers and also some HUGE tall guy we were suddenly friends with. But when we went outside, she was gone. Too bad. We were ready. I mean, Kate had even taken her rings off so Slutty Girl's face wouldn't break them.

So . . . I think that's mostly how it happened. It escalated quickly because THAT BITCH WAS CRAZY. I think I dropped more f-bombs than I've ever dropped, especially in front of my parents. Also, at some point Slutty Girl's friend tried to swing at my mom, but my mom caught her fist and wouldn't let go.

Moral of the story: Do not fuck with my mom. Also? DO NOT ask my dad what time it is.

*this phrase was repeated A LOT over the course of the weekend

lacking active conscious knowledge or awareness

Last night, Heidi and I were talking about the Springfield Mall. I don't know why. I worked there my junior year of college because it's like five minutes away from campus. I worked at Vitamin World. It was as glamorous as you can imagine. Anyway, I'm not sure how we got to talking about that mall, but who cares because CONVERSATION WITH MY ROOMMATE:

Me: That was such a good job. We were only busy on like two days of the month when we had a giant sale, but other than that hardly anyone came in.
Heidi: Oh really? [what she should have said: Jennie, you are boring, shut up]
Me: Yeah. This one guy? He worked at Lazarus. And he'd come in every night and buy one of those gross protein bars.
Heidi: Haha. Ew.
Me: This one night he came in and I was working alone and he handed me this wad of cash but didn't wait for his change. And when I looked down, there was a slip of paper with the money and it had a phone number on it.
Heidi: Oooh!
Me: Heh, yeah, wait. Anyway, when I saw it, I was like, "Weird! This piece of paper has a phone number on it. I wonder why? Oh well," and then I threw it away.
Heidi: You did not.
Me: I did. And it wasn't until I was telling the story to someone later that they were all, "Jennie, he gave you his phone number. And you threw it away."
Heidi: Wow.
Me: I know. I am an asshole. But it didn't even occur to me! I just thought he handed me garbage!
Heidi: Was he cute?
Me: Yes.
Heidi: You are so special.
Me: Tell me about it.
Heidi: And this is why Jennie is single.
Me: Seriously, though.

Also, this one time an old man came in and hit on me for like an hour. He was wearing a cowboy hat and boots, eating an ice cream cone, and was shorter than I am. I turned down his offer (several times) but sadly, this is how obvious men have to be before I realize that they might like me. I mostly wander through the world with my head in the clouds, so not only do I run into stuff all the time, I am pretty much oblivious to things that may seem obvious to everyone else. Lazarus boy, if you're out there, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings. I thought you were very cute and totally would have let you buy me dinner, and not just because I was in college and poor.

Deep Thoughts . . . by Hugo Dodd

More spam knowledge.

To: Me
From: Hugo Dodd
Subject: 4 Jennifer

Where grief is fresh, any attempt to divert it only irritates.

Calamity is virtue's opportunity.

Flowers are as common in the country as people are in London.

Law and justice are not always the same. When they aren't, destroying the law may be the first step toward changing it.

Talking is the disease of age.

What is all our histories, but God showing himself, shaking and trampling on everything that he has not planted.

The best way to navigate through life is to give up all of our controls.

A single bad habit will mar an otherwise faultless character, as an ink-drop soileth the pure white page.

What you do is more important than how much you make, and how you feel about it is more important than what you do.

Nothing so much prevents our being natural as the desire to seem so.

Age does not depend upon years, but upon temperament and health. Some men are born old, and some never grow up.

A jury too often has at least one member more ready to hang the panel than to hang the traitor.

Yes, I do touch. I believe that everyone needs that…

P.S. LOL you HAVE to see this video!

It's like I'm perched on the handle bars of a blind man's bike

I have a problem concentrating when people are talking to me. I know this. I'm reminded of it almost every day. OK, every hour. Apparently, I need to work on my listening skills. Sometimes I'm in a meeting and I don't realize I haven't been listening until someone is all, "does anyone have any ideas or suggestions?" and I'm like, "yes, I have an idea about how we only really need to work four days a week . . . what's that you say? That has nothing to do with what we were talking about? Oh, sorry." I wish I could say I'm thinking about something important but I'm probably not. Like the other day, my boss was explaining something to me and I was making sure to make eye contact so she'd know I was really paying attention and then I noticed that she has brown eyes and I started wondering if it's harder to see out of brown eyes than out of blue eyes, because blue eyes are clear. I swear the reason I can't lie is because I have blue eyes. You can't hide lies behind blue eyes. Everything is on display. It's both scary and annoying. I would say it's also the reason I can't keep secrets, but I don't think that's it. Really it's because I get drunk and tell everyone everything. Whether they want to hear it or not. Unless it's a big secret, then I don't tell anyone ever. Like how I'm pregnant? No one knows! Not even the father!

Haha, JK. I totally told the father. HAHA JK AGAIN. Oh the laughter, it hurts. Although, speaking of unplanned pregnancy, I freaked my mom out the other day with the following exchange:

Mom: I was really nauseous the other day and your dad kept joking that I was pregnant.
Me: Is that even possible?
Mom: Not anymore.
Me [patting my stomach]: Maybe you were just experiencing sympathy morning sickness.

Man, you should have seen the look of horror on my mom's face. It was priceless.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, right, getting distracted. My problem (one of many) is that I live too much in my own head and forget to pay attention to real life. When I was a tiny freshman in high school, I started talking to this boy. He kept talking about this upcoming dance and how he didn't have a date. It was one of those dances where the girl asks the boy. I think he even sent me a flower. It didn't occur to me until after the dance was over that he'd been trying to get me to ask him to be my date. I think he ended up going with someone else. Oops. Oh well. Story of my life.

I am just no good with subtlety. I need to be smacked over the head with something before it finally sinks in. And even then, I may be too busy thinking about this:

Maybe if I concentrate hard enough I might be able to actually astrally project myself to the moon and if I could I should probably buy a spacesuit just in case, even though I'm pretty sure when you astrally project yourself somewhere, it's not actually your BODY that goes so I might not need a spacesuit after all which is good because those sound expensive

to pay much attention. Also, I'm probably gonna be pretty pissed that you're smacking me in the head and might pretend not to know what you're talking about just out of spite.

I keep on talking trash but never say anything

I have a severe case of Bitchface today. I could blame the heat, but it's not even as hot today as it was yesterday and yesterday I was fine. Of course, yesterday I spent the day a) brunching, b) shopping at the bookstore, c) reading Salinger, and d) passing out from heat exhaustion at the pool. Whereas today, you see, I was at work. That might have something to do with the Bitchface. I don't know. I'm still looking into it.

I feel stupid complaining about the heat, because it's August and it's always hot in August but I HATE IT I HATE IT I WANT AUGUST TO DIE.

Anyway, we went to a Reds game on Saturday and luckily there were a shit ton of empty seats in the bleachers so we sat all the way at the top because that's where the shade was. Beer cost more than our tickets. And that's all I have to say about that.

After the game we went to dinner and while I was in the bathroom everyone started a rousing game of Would You Rather. When I got back, the question was, "would you rather your spouse was addicted to meth or prostitutes," and when someone shouted "PROSTITUTES PROSTITUTES" the old man at the table behind us turned around and gave us such a look of disgust I thought his face might melt off. I don't want to say it wasn't me who yelled "PROSTITUTES PROSTITUTES," but only because I don't really remember if it was me or not. It sure SOUNDS like me. Whatever. Heidi was the one who was all, "prostitutes, because they're cheaper," like . . . what kind of cheap ass prostitutes is your husband going to, Heidi?

LATER I accidentally got everyone's hopes up that the meteor shower was that night and we had all these plans to get a blanket and some beers and watch it fly by but then I Googled it and it turns out the meteor shower WAS NOT Saturday night, but Sunday night. Stupid meteors. Then I got called a nerd for the following reasons:

• I've read Harry Potter way more than once
• Heidi was telling a story about a transvestite named Larry who wanted to be called Laurie and how she couldn't call him Laurie because Laurie is a girl's name and I was all, "nuh uh, in Little Women there is a character named Laurie and he is a boy who falls in love with Jo and Amy, and if you can take on two of the March sisters in one lifetime, especially those two, you are pretty damn manly," and they just stared at me like I'd grown two heads but I went inside and checked and it turns out I had NOT grown two heads, I guess they just apparently hadn't read Little Women 800 times as a tiny child like I did.
• I used the word "unwieldy" when talking about what objects in our apartment would be too difficult to use as weapons against zombies.

I'm sure there were more reasons. It's just that I get called a nerd so often, I barely notice it anymore. BUT WHATEVER. Everyone else was JUST AS EXCITED ABOUT THE METEOR SHOWER AS I WAS and if that doesn't make you a nerd, I don't know what does.

Please pray for it to get a little cooler. At least by this weekend. We're going to Kings Island (please don't stalk me) and if it's hot, it will be smelly and ALSO there will be way more fat, dimpled flesh everywhere if it's 100 degrees and not, say, 80. Truly. It's science. Heidi got tickets through work and I was all excited because they were so cheap until Heidi told me she probably wouldn't ride all the roller coasters and I think my exact words were, "WELL, THEN, YOU'D BETTER INVITE MORE PEOPLE," because my response to someone doing something nice for me is apparently to yell at them and berate them for not wanting to fly upside-down at 50 miles per hour.

Deep Thoughts . . . by Consuelo Westbrook

This is the greatest piece of spam I have ever received:

To: Me
From: Consuelo Westbrook
Subject: Hello Jennifer!

I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead. We will burn that bridge when we come to it.

Of all forms of caution, caution in love is perhaps the most fatal to true happiness.

Predicting the future is easy. It's trying to figure out what's going on now that's hard.

It seems essential, in relationships and all tasks, that we concentrate only on what is most significant and important.

Injustice is relatively easy to bear, what stings is justice.

Whenever the cause of the people is entrusted to professors, it is lost.

It is with our judgments as with our watches: no two go just alike, yet each believes his own.

Hesitancy in judgment is the only true mark of the thinker.

I don't set trends. I just find out what they are and exploit them.

I get up in the morning with an idea for a three-volume novel and by nightfall it's a paragraph in my column.

Idleness is only a coarse name for my infinite capacity for living in the present.

The fly that does not want to be swatted is safest if it sits on the fly-swatter.