But I did not become a Lackawanna County volunteer sheriff's deputy so that I could make friends. And by the way. I haven't.

So let me tell you why I have the best roommate ever. First of all, she ordered the phone and the Internets, probably after figuring out that if I was in charge of it I would procrastinate and not order it until December or something IF SHE WAS LUCKY. Thanks to her, we will soon have the power of DSL, meaning we can stay online ALL THE TIME which is exactly what God and Mother Nature intended.

Also? Since her birthday was Tuesday and mine is today, we've accumulated quite a few sugary treats, which is why last night the majority of our dinner consisted of cheesecake and cupcakes. That is why being an adult is awesome . . . you can make salsa and chips your appetizer, chocolate cheesecake your entree, and a cupcake your dessert and when you feel like vomiting all over the floor later you have only yourself to blame.

And finally, her birthday present to me? FIRST OF ALL, she got me the Walk the Line soundtrack AND some pretty sweet pants from Target (aka the love of my life). But best of all, she got me a Dora the Explorer action figure, complete with purple backpack and tiny, brown dog. So now I can walk around with it, shove it in people's faces and say, "Hola! Me llamo Dora! Como esta? Ayudame! Tengo un gato en mis pantalones!" and the like. Gracias, amiga.

Also, she watches The Office with me and laughs at all the right parts. What more could you ask for in a roommate?

If you can prove that diversity will help my sales, well then I'll go elephant riding with James Earl Jones

Dear Lady with the Gold Tooth Who Knocked on our Door and Tried To Sell Me Magazines So You Could Get Your "Second Chance" at Life,

While I applaud you trying to turn your life around, don't for one second think that asking me if I modeled my haircut after Dora the Explorer is going to make me want to buy your magazines.

SERIOUSLY? Dora the Explorer? Really?

Sincerely,
Dora, I mean Jennie

PS: Stop calling me "girlfriend."

Nobody likes beets, Dwight. You should grow something everybody does like. You should grow candy.

Phase two of the move is now complete. We unpacked the truck into the new apartment (all the way up a million stairs, ok, not really, just like 10 or 12, but it felt like a million, especially to the people carrying the washing machine) on Saturday morning. The weather was perfect, sunny and breezy and blue-skied, because I think Jesus was trying to make up for raining all over my stuff on Friday night. Thanks, Jesus.

We've now moved onto Phase Slowly Unpack All the Boxes and Then Maybe Hang Up Some Pictures In Between Viewings of The Office oh and also Desperate Housewives Episodes. This phase could last a while. We're supposed to have visitors this weekend, because today is The Roommate's birthday and Friday is my birthday so there will be celebration ALL OVER THE LAND or maybe just in Dayton. Although, now that I think about it, I don't think anyone will be sleeping in the apartment because we've made plans to sleep elsewhere both nights. So really we just have to find enough room in the closets to shove all of the stuff we don't want to deal with until later. Awesome.

I think my brain is broken. I'm having a very difficult time concentrating on anything. I don't know if it's because the weather has gotten nicer or because I have killed all the brain cells that are required to make my brain function normally or because I am super excited about this weekend. Seriously, whenever I start to think about it I start to hyperventilate a little and then I have to sit down and put my head between my knees because IF I DON'T I might get so excited that I pee a little. And that is not attractive, in case you were wondering.

Why is it that my brain insists on focusing on things I'd rather not think about? I keep having these moments where I'm pretty sure I'm just staring off into space, thinking about these certain things, and events that have happened or might happen, and what to do/say if these certain things should happen and then I realize that I've just spent the last ten minutes staring glazed-eyed at a lightswitch or something and I literally have to shake my head to get myself out of the daydream. Seriously. Wake up, brain, and stop messing with my head.

On the streets we didn't have any rules. Maybe one. No kicks to the groin, home for dinner.

Ok, so Phase One of the move is complete. Almost everything I own is now sitting outside in a U-Haul in my parent's driveway. So don't steal it, OK? Because I like my stuff. Also I would cry and you don't want me to cry, do you?

I am taking advantage of my parent's high speed internet while I have the chance because after tomorrow . . . I will only be able to check my e-mail at work. And I'm really not supposed to be doing that. I think last time I moved I made it about a week and a half before I broke down and ordered the Internets so we'll see how long I make it this time. I have a roommate who can entertain me so I think I might make it a little longer. WE'LL SEE.

The weather tomorrow better be freaking spectacular because today? While we were loading the truck? It was pissing rain the entire time. Oh, but it mostly stopped by the time we were done, so that was nice.

Today, before the moving truck arrived, I took Phoebe to my parent's house. First of all, she did not want to get in her cat carrier and I was afraid to shove her too hard in case I broke her or something. So, I did what any responsible pet owner would do. I got her high on catnip, waited until she was relaxed and vulnerable and then I ambushed her. You guys, I totally date raped my cat. I mean. In theory. I don't know. She is traumatized forever, though. Then, while we were in the car and I was babbling into my friend's voicemail and Phoebe was meowing meowing EVERMORE I realized I had forgotten the bag with Phoebe's food and treats, i.e. THE MOST IMPORTANT BAG OF ALL. So I turned around and when I pulled into the parking lot, what do I see? The bag, sitting next to the parking spot I had vacated minutes before. I am so special sometimes.

Once I had her at my parent's house, I let her out and eventually she started exploring. Unfortunately, Ripley (The Dog) saw her and chased her blah blah blah Phoebe hid under my parent's bed. She was still there hours and hours later when we got back from loading the truck, so my dad and I spent a loooooong time trying to coax her out from under the bed. Well, I tried coaxing her with treats and he poked her with a pole. I'm still not quite sure where that came from. Eventually, she got tired of being poked in the nether regions so she wandered close enough to me and I grabbed her and she clawed me and her tail got as big as my face and sometimes I feel like I live in a cartoon.

The end.

Do you want us to run aground, woman?!*

I'm moving tomorrow! Or, rather, the move starts tomorrow, takes an overnight detour at my parent's house, and then ends sometime Saturday afternoon. I ended up taking tomorrow off of work because I realized that the hour or so between work and picking up the moving truck would not be enough time to do all the little things that never seem to take very long until you do them all at once. Did that make any sense? I don't care. Have I mentioned I haven't really been sleeping? For a fun and interesting change, I've been lying awake for a couple hours before I drift into a crazy, dream-filled world of tense, anxious sleep where I wake up every hour and then start worrying about the fact that I'M NOT ASLEEP OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO BE SO TIRED TOMORROW! Um. Yeah. It's not relaxing, really.

Oooookay. I'm having a hard time turning the computer off, because once I do, I'm unplugging it and packing all of the little pieces away and so soon it will be a very large paperweight or piece of modern art or whatever, and then I won't have the power of the Internets FOR WHO KNOWS HOW LONG. Oh god, I'm starting to hyperventilate a little just thinking about not having easy access (haha, easy access) to my e-mail.

Obviously, I am starting (starting?) to go Crazy McLocobeans so I'm really glad the move is soon because I'm fairly certain that it's responsible for my lunacy. Well. My current lunacy, anyway. I can't blame all my crazy on it. Besides, once the move is complete I can focus on the really important things.

You know, like finding a mechanical bull before my birthday. Priorities, people.

*Sooner or later I will run out of these . . . but not for a long, long, time, mwaahaahaa

The deal is, this is kind of my last hurrah, because I made a New Year's Resolution that I'm not going to drink anymore . . . during the week.

I'm serious about The Office quotes, people. I'm going to keep titling my entries with them until . . . um, I don't know. Until my dad admits that The Office is awesome! So, yeah. Prepare to have them around for a long, loooooong time.

The countdown to the move is infiltrating everything I do. Two more nights of sleeping in my apartment. Two more showers. Two more dinners (if you call a turkey sandwich and a container of yogurt dinner, that is). Two more pots of coffee. One episode of Alias. One rerun of The Office (shut up). Four Phoebe-feedings. Five more drives to and from work. No more drinks.

Best of all? Only two more nights of sleeping with the windows closed. Two more nights of obsessively checking the locks on the front and patio doors. I'm so glad the new apartment is on the second floor and I can sleep with the windows open. I love sleeping with the windows open. Also, that means we have a balcony and balconies are fun to throw stuff off of. Not that I would ever condone that sort of behavior. Besides, you really need to be on a very high floor to make throwing things out of the window interesting. Say you're throwing Peeps out the window at innocent passersby, or unrolling a roll of toilet paper to see if it'll make it to the ground . . . the 10th floor of your dorm is really the lowest you want to be. Again. Not that I condone (or have ever been a part of OR have ever been the instigator of) that sort of behavior. Hee.

This week is going veeeeeeeery slowly and I'm sure it's because I'm sick of having all of my stuff tucked away from me inside of boxes I forgot to label. I was not thinking (me?) and packed all of my books and most of my DVDs so, besides cleaning and packing, I don't have much to entertain myself. Luckily, I have some (overdue) books from the library so I'm not completely without reading material. Which is good because when I'm without reading material, little pieces of my brain explode out of my ears and, aside from not being very pleasant or pretty, there aren't many pieces of my brain left after all the hard drinking that I can afford to lose.

Yeah. That seems like as good a place as any to end this.

Of course martial arts training is relevant. Uh excuse me, I know about a billion Asians who would beg to differ!

Ok, I know I'm kind of distracted with the upcoming move and all, but this morning I walked out of my apartment without my glasses and didn't notice until I was pulling out of the parking lot thinking, "why is everything so blurry today?" Maybe you're thinking that I usually wear my contacts and THAT'S why I forgot my glasses, but you're wrong. Sorry. I put my glasses on, go to work, take them off and then put them back on when it's time to leave. This morning I was just, I don't know, more retarded than usual.

You know, I really can't understand how my parents and I have such differing views on important things. I'm not talking about politics this time, although SPEAKING of politics, last night I had a dream that GWB called me and told me he'd been reading my blog and wanted to come talk to me. So we were supposed to meet at Target (?) and I totally stood him up.

The word you're looking for is . . . ANYWAY. Politics aside, my parents and I also have very different views about TELEVISION (obviously, way more important than politics). Namely, what we think is funny. They hate my favorite shows. The Office. Scrubs. Arrested Development (blasphemy). Instead, they watch Freddie. According to Jim. Two and a Half Men. KING OF QUEENS. Shows I would rather blow my brains out than watch. I'm not exaggerating. Have you seen any of Freddie? Blowing my brains out is a welcome alternative to watching Freddie Prinze, Jr. try to be funny.

I know I'm taking it too seriously. I take personal offense when someone says they don't like The Office. I REALLY DO. Because, hello! It is hilarious.

Ok. I guess I can see why someone might not like a show like Scrubs or The Office. I mean, there's no one telling you when it's time to laugh! Oh no! I can see how that would be confusing after so many years of laugh-track conditioning.

Or, maybe I'm just a TV snob (most likely). But I'm OK with that.

Wow. This was like the laziest post ever. Blah, blah, my life is boring. Dr. McDreamy. Oh, did anyone watch that new What about Brian show? I was all set to hate it, because it was on during Grey's Anatomy time on Sunday (talk about blasphemy) and because it stars that douchebag from 7th Heaven (the douchiest show ever made), but I watched it and actually thought it wasn't bad. That doesn't mean I'm going to start watching According to Jim, though, so just stop that train of thought RIGHT THERE.