I'm sure you all want to hear about the concert last night. DON'T LIE, I know you too well. Oh, Michael Buble. His voice is like buttah. I want to have about 10,000 of his babies and NOT just because of his voice, but because he does Blue Steel at his show. Also, I think I experienced the high point of my life when he started singing Ring of Fire I MEAN COME ON.
I have added another prerequisite for my Boyfriend Must Haves (the longer this list gets, the more obvious it becomes why I, in fact, DO NOT have a boyfriend and that is because I am far, far too picky) and it is that he must be able to sing and/or play an instrument. Although, that seems unfair because while I do sing along with the radio, I do not SING and the only instrument I play is . . . well, I don't play one. So I'd be willing to overlook this prerequisite as long as you were willing to take me to Michael Buble concerts. And also if you knew all the words to Ring of Fire. IS THAT TO MUCH TO ASK? It's not like they are that complicated.
Ok, I'm going to dial down the crazy for a moment. Want to hear something weird? We bonded with the girls sitting in front of us because they overheard Stiffie and I making fun of someone's outfit (seriously . . . bright blue pants and A NECKERCHIEF?!) and nothing brings bitches together like bashing a stranger's clothing choices. Anyway, one of them, it turns out, went to Wittenberg. And, although we spent a good portion of the evening talking to them, I never got around to asking her if she ever streaked the Hollow. Damn.
And finally, this is how I would deal with our patients if I were Dr. House:
Patient's Mother: Can I leave her here while I run some errands?
JennieHouse: Sure! I don't mind babysitting at all! Oh, while you're out, would you please fill up my car with premium gasoline and pick up some milk? My cat loves milk and cookies.
Patient: I'm 20 minutes late, is that ok?
JennieHouse: No problem. I'm going to finish this magazine and then I'll be right with you.
Patient: I have a problem.
JennieHouse: Hey, I have lots of those! Let's put on our PJs, paint our toenails, and talk about BOYS, that'll help.
Patient: I NEED blah blah I'm annoying blah.
JennieHouse: Well, I need you to shut the fuck up, please!
Just kidding. Dr. House would never say "fuck" but because The TV Police do not allow it.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Jennie angry! Rooooaaaaaaarrrrrr!!!
Last Friday, I wore this pair of jeans that I found in the back of my closet. Yes, I wore them because I really needed to do laundry, suck it. This particular pair of jeans had a hole in the left knee, a souvenir I picked up about a week after I purchased them, when I tripped over NOTHING and fell down in the street. As it was St. Patrick's Day at the time, I have to surmise that the fall was alcohol-induced.
Anyway, I wore this pair of jeans to work, but it was OK because I was the only one there. Throughout the day, I found myself messing with the hole (heh) in my jeans and eventually I had ripped it completely to the seams, in my mind pretty much rendering the jeans unwearable. Unless I wore them to, I don't know, clean the apartment or wash a car or do some mulching in my nonexistent garden.
Later that night, I decided I would just cut the jeans off at the knee, where the rip was. No, this act was NOT alcohol-induced. Sure, the ends would be frayed but the jeans were ruined anyway so I thought it would be a fun fashion experiment. So I cut them. Like I will cut you if you make fun of me. Just kidding. MAYBE. I tried them on after and thought, OK, they look kind of ridiculous. Like I had just been rescued from a deserted island somewhere. Although, I didn't think they looked too bad if I rolled them up so they ended just above the knee like cute capris that I had actually purchased in a store, not made myself in some bizarre, Frankenstein experiment. Unfortunately, I left them unrolled when I walked into the living room to show my roommate and she immediately started laughing. As she should have. When she finally gathered her wits, she had some questions. As she should have.
Heidi: What did you do?
Me: I was just trying something.
Heidi: You realize you look like the Incredible Hulk, right?
Me: Thanks?
Heidi: Wow.
Me: Look, they aren't so bad if I roll them up.
Heidi: . . .
Me: See?
Heidi: Yeah, I still don't think I'd wear them out of the house.
So I haven't worn them out of the house. HOWEVER. Heidi and I saw someone at the zoo wearing my Incredible Hulk pants. Which, OK, it was the zoo so maybe that's a bad example. But then we went to dinner, a semi-nice restaurant, and someone there was wearing them. I will ignore the fact that she was wearing hot pink espadrilles because that was disturbing on SEVERAL levels. Ok, off topic (yes, there was a topic . . . I think) but you know what other foot phenomenon I find disturbing? Crocs. WTF? Those are the ugliest goddamn shoes I have ever seen in my life. And that includes every pair of Jellies I had when I was little.
Anyway, my point is, I think it's OK for me to wear my Incredible Hulk pants out of the house now. Obviously I am some sort of fashion idiot savant who has either started a trend or predicted one. Either way . . . as someone whose wardrobe consists mostly of jeans and different colored shirts of the same style, I'm pretty proud.
To completely change the subject, I'm going to a Michael Buble concert tomorrow night. Please cross your fingers that it doesn't rain, because it's outside. I'm pretty excited, and NOT just because I get to say "Boob-lay" all day long although I'm fairly certain that his name is one of the main reasons I like him.
Also, this is my second post today (did I just BLOW YOUR MIND?) and my third in the past 24 hours, so I'm thinking the whole "sick of myself" theory is shot at this point.
Anyway, I wore this pair of jeans to work, but it was OK because I was the only one there. Throughout the day, I found myself messing with the hole (heh) in my jeans and eventually I had ripped it completely to the seams, in my mind pretty much rendering the jeans unwearable. Unless I wore them to, I don't know, clean the apartment or wash a car or do some mulching in my nonexistent garden.
Later that night, I decided I would just cut the jeans off at the knee, where the rip was. No, this act was NOT alcohol-induced. Sure, the ends would be frayed but the jeans were ruined anyway so I thought it would be a fun fashion experiment. So I cut them. Like I will cut you if you make fun of me. Just kidding. MAYBE. I tried them on after and thought, OK, they look kind of ridiculous. Like I had just been rescued from a deserted island somewhere. Although, I didn't think they looked too bad if I rolled them up so they ended just above the knee like cute capris that I had actually purchased in a store, not made myself in some bizarre, Frankenstein experiment. Unfortunately, I left them unrolled when I walked into the living room to show my roommate and she immediately started laughing. As she should have. When she finally gathered her wits, she had some questions. As she should have.
Heidi: What did you do?
Me: I was just trying something.
Heidi: You realize you look like the Incredible Hulk, right?
Me: Thanks?
Heidi: Wow.
Me: Look, they aren't so bad if I roll them up.
Heidi: . . .
Me: See?
Heidi: Yeah, I still don't think I'd wear them out of the house.
So I haven't worn them out of the house. HOWEVER. Heidi and I saw someone at the zoo wearing my Incredible Hulk pants. Which, OK, it was the zoo so maybe that's a bad example. But then we went to dinner, a semi-nice restaurant, and someone there was wearing them. I will ignore the fact that she was wearing hot pink espadrilles because that was disturbing on SEVERAL levels. Ok, off topic (yes, there was a topic . . . I think) but you know what other foot phenomenon I find disturbing? Crocs. WTF? Those are the ugliest goddamn shoes I have ever seen in my life. And that includes every pair of Jellies I had when I was little.
Anyway, my point is, I think it's OK for me to wear my Incredible Hulk pants out of the house now. Obviously I am some sort of fashion idiot savant who has either started a trend or predicted one. Either way . . . as someone whose wardrobe consists mostly of jeans and different colored shirts of the same style, I'm pretty proud.
To completely change the subject, I'm going to a Michael Buble concert tomorrow night. Please cross your fingers that it doesn't rain, because it's outside. I'm pretty excited, and NOT just because I get to say "Boob-lay" all day long although I'm fairly certain that his name is one of the main reasons I like him.
Also, this is my second post today (did I just BLOW YOUR MIND?) and my third in the past 24 hours, so I'm thinking the whole "sick of myself" theory is shot at this point.
If you're particularly annoying, you may see me reach for this: this is Vicodin. It's mine! No, you can't have any!
I'm having a problem accepting the fact that it's almost JULY. When the hell did that happen? I would really, really appreciate it if time would stop or slow down for a couple of days while I catch up. And if it could stop or slow down sometime this weekend, or even Monday (ok, especially Monday), that'd be even better. I don't need time to go any slower at work, thank you.
So yesterday I started writing a novel. A novel, that sounds so pretentious, but that's what it is. Or what it will be. You know, if I stick with it. And let's face it, the chances of that happening are slim to nil. I love the word "nil." I don't know why. Anyway, so this novel. I've only written two (short) chapters, but I'm liking it so far. With the way I complete projects, it should be finished sometime around 2009. I still haven't finished the scarf I started knitting two summers ago and I never learned how to play the guitar that I purchased in high school. So. Ok, maybe 2009 is a little optimistic.
Recently I have become obsessed with the show House. Not like The Office obsessed, though. I can only focus that completely on one show at a time. But I really, really like House. Hence the title of this entry. He's so deliciously cross all the time. And if there is one thing I enjoy, it's people who are cross. Ahem, MR. DARCY.
Here is the point where I debate whether to just delete this because it's pointless or hit publish because it involves less button pushing. Gee, I wonder which I will choose.
So yesterday I started writing a novel. A novel, that sounds so pretentious, but that's what it is. Or what it will be. You know, if I stick with it. And let's face it, the chances of that happening are slim to nil. I love the word "nil." I don't know why. Anyway, so this novel. I've only written two (short) chapters, but I'm liking it so far. With the way I complete projects, it should be finished sometime around 2009. I still haven't finished the scarf I started knitting two summers ago and I never learned how to play the guitar that I purchased in high school. So. Ok, maybe 2009 is a little optimistic.
Recently I have become obsessed with the show House. Not like The Office obsessed, though. I can only focus that completely on one show at a time. But I really, really like House. Hence the title of this entry. He's so deliciously cross all the time. And if there is one thing I enjoy, it's people who are cross. Ahem, MR. DARCY.
Here is the point where I debate whether to just delete this because it's pointless or hit publish because it involves less button pushing. Gee, I wonder which I will choose.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
I think "le sigh" pretty much sums it up
I don't know what it is, but lately I have just become so BORED with myself. Going back to read past blog entries makes me all fidgety and cringey and wanting to print out the entire blog and put it in the freezer, much like I want to do when I go back and read old journals from high school.
I'm so sick of being me right now. Being stuck inside my head, thinking and getting embarrassed about the same things constantly when, really, it would be so much easier to just LET THEM GO. Something I seem incapable of doing. I'd like to elaborate. To be completely forthcoming about each and every thought that enters and exits my scrambled brain. To tell you all everything about myself without any thought to the consequences. Actually, that's a lie. A big one. Being forthcoming . . . that's just not me. And no matter how sick I am of that person, I think it'd be better to put a lid on the personal blog entries. I've been trying. After all, I'm running out of room in my freezer.
I'm so sick of being me right now. Being stuck inside my head, thinking and getting embarrassed about the same things constantly when, really, it would be so much easier to just LET THEM GO. Something I seem incapable of doing. I'd like to elaborate. To be completely forthcoming about each and every thought that enters and exits my scrambled brain. To tell you all everything about myself without any thought to the consequences. Actually, that's a lie. A big one. Being forthcoming . . . that's just not me. And no matter how sick I am of that person, I think it'd be better to put a lid on the personal blog entries. I've been trying. After all, I'm running out of room in my freezer.
Monday, June 26, 2006
You woke up the bears! Why did you do that?
For those interested (Kat, I think you were the only one), the zoo was exactly as I remembered it . . . big, confusing, smelly, and WONDERFUL. Except for the people. I have never seen so much pale, dimpled fat on display in my life. That's a lie. I mean, I've been to Disneys both Land and World. The best part of the zoo (besides the penguins, because HELLO, penguins are my favorite) was when we saw the black bear sleeping on a rock and the little boy standing next to us said to his mom, "Haha, that bear looks like a pile of poop!" Because poop references are funny, even when they come from small children. Alright, ESPECIALLY when they come from small children.
I would post pictures of my favorite animals . . . but see, here's the deal. I had to reload Windows on my computer (yes, again) and I haven't reinstalled the software for my digital camera even though it's been like a month, so you see I cannot load the pictures from my camera onto my computer until I load the software and the chance of that happening in the next couple of days or even weeks is, well, not good. Sorry. If you want to see pictures of my favorite animals go here. Try not to smile and have warm, fuzzy feelings I DARE YOU.
Our plan was to go to the zoo all day long, but we got up late (who is surprised, raise your hand, NO ONE that's what I thought) and by the time we got ready, we didn't have as much time as we'd planned. But it turned out to be OK because we both have adult ADD or something. We'd stare at the zebras and a couple seconds later, one of us would see an elephant and run the opposite direction. I think we spent the most time at the penguin exhibit and I'm not gonna lie, I almost pushed some little kids out of the way so I could stand on the step right next to the glass. I think I mentioned last time that I am short (Judy, I think you asked how short . . . 5'2 and three quarters (shut up, those three quarters of an inch are IMPORTANT) but I'm 5'3 on a tall day and also did you notice the parenthesis inside of parenthesis? That is talent, I know), so I should get to stand right next to the kids at this kind of thing.
Do you want to hear how disgusting I am? Too bad. So, Saturday my roommate and I walked around the zoo for a couple of hours. Then we sat outside to eat dinner. Then we went to a bar. Then a party. Then we slept at her boyfriend's apartment, and it was hotter than balls in there. Eventually, we found our way back to Dayton and went swimming. Well, I went swimming because Heidi is smarter than I am. The water? Was kind of cold. Ok, really cold. And by the time we went swimming it wasn't that hot outside anymore, just pleasantly warm. So last weekend I burned the hell out of my back and this weekend I tried to give myself hypothermia. BRILLIANT. Anyway, so after swimming we ate a late dinner and by that time I was too tired to do anything else so I didn't shower. Yep. I did not wash the layers of sweat, sunscreen, and chlorine off of my skin until this morning and that's only because I couldn't go to work all dirty and gross because they would have sent me home. Actually, that doesn't sound like such a bad plan, so maybe I'll try that next weekend except oh wait, I'm only working three days next week. SCORE.
Thanks to everyone who gave me some book suggestions. I'll definitely be reading all of them (in fact, I already started one) but if anyone has any more I'll be your best friend forever and ever. BFF 4 eva. LYLAS. Wow. Junior high flashbacks are SCARY.
I would post pictures of my favorite animals . . . but see, here's the deal. I had to reload Windows on my computer (yes, again) and I haven't reinstalled the software for my digital camera even though it's been like a month, so you see I cannot load the pictures from my camera onto my computer until I load the software and the chance of that happening in the next couple of days or even weeks is, well, not good. Sorry. If you want to see pictures of my favorite animals go here. Try not to smile and have warm, fuzzy feelings I DARE YOU.
Our plan was to go to the zoo all day long, but we got up late (who is surprised, raise your hand, NO ONE that's what I thought) and by the time we got ready, we didn't have as much time as we'd planned. But it turned out to be OK because we both have adult ADD or something. We'd stare at the zebras and a couple seconds later, one of us would see an elephant and run the opposite direction. I think we spent the most time at the penguin exhibit and I'm not gonna lie, I almost pushed some little kids out of the way so I could stand on the step right next to the glass. I think I mentioned last time that I am short (Judy, I think you asked how short . . . 5'2 and three quarters (shut up, those three quarters of an inch are IMPORTANT) but I'm 5'3 on a tall day and also did you notice the parenthesis inside of parenthesis? That is talent, I know), so I should get to stand right next to the kids at this kind of thing.
Do you want to hear how disgusting I am? Too bad. So, Saturday my roommate and I walked around the zoo for a couple of hours. Then we sat outside to eat dinner. Then we went to a bar. Then a party. Then we slept at her boyfriend's apartment, and it was hotter than balls in there. Eventually, we found our way back to Dayton and went swimming. Well, I went swimming because Heidi is smarter than I am. The water? Was kind of cold. Ok, really cold. And by the time we went swimming it wasn't that hot outside anymore, just pleasantly warm. So last weekend I burned the hell out of my back and this weekend I tried to give myself hypothermia. BRILLIANT. Anyway, so after swimming we ate a late dinner and by that time I was too tired to do anything else so I didn't shower. Yep. I did not wash the layers of sweat, sunscreen, and chlorine off of my skin until this morning and that's only because I couldn't go to work all dirty and gross because they would have sent me home. Actually, that doesn't sound like such a bad plan, so maybe I'll try that next weekend except oh wait, I'm only working three days next week. SCORE.
Thanks to everyone who gave me some book suggestions. I'll definitely be reading all of them (in fact, I already started one) but if anyone has any more I'll be your best friend forever and ever. BFF 4 eva. LYLAS. Wow. Junior high flashbacks are SCARY.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Sometimes you have to just be the boss of dancing
This is going to be disgusting. I'm just warning you. My back is literally PEELING OFF. It's so gross. I mean, dead skin, great bits of it, slowly peeeeeeeeling off of my body. Ugh, I'm making myself nauseous just thinking about it.
Moral of the story? I'll be wearing lots and lots of sunscreen at the zoo. I do not want my face to peel off in the manner of my back. I can hide my back by wearing a shirt but I cannot really hide my face unless I wear a burqa or something, and that seems disrespectful.
You know what's great? Getting a long e-mail from someone you haven't heard from in a while. Yes, Amy, I am talking about you and while I'm at it, please update your blog. Because I am bored. Anyway, she had some book suggestions which gives me an excuse to go to Half Price Books and you know I'll take any excuse to stop in there and drool on the literature.
So, I've been watching America's Next Top Model a lot lately (thank you, TiVo) and have decided that I could never be a model. Physical attributes aside (to begin with, I'm short . . . yeah, really short), I just don't think I could say things like "that's fierce" without giggling or stabbing myself in the eye afterward. Although, I would like to hang out with Janice Dickinson because hello! Bitch is crazy.
AND NOW, Conversations With My Roommate:
Heidi: Did you ever e-mail that guy back?
Me: Oh, no, I forgot. It's probably too late now.
Heidi: Yeaaaaah, it's been like two weeks.
Me: Oh well.
Heidi: Yeah.
Me: Unless I e-mailed him and told him I've been in the hospital or something.
Heidi: Yeah, you could say, "I fell down and have been in a coma, sorry!"
Me: Well, I do fall down a lot, so it's not a total lie.
Heidi: True.
Me: Or, "Sorry, my gonorrhea was acting up, but I'm ok now!"
Heidi: "I had a syphilis outbreak!"
Me: Haha! "Don't worry, it's better now! Do you want to meet me?"
Heidi: Hahahaha! "I'm on antibiotics now so everything is under control."
Me: Oh, god. I'm totally dateable.
Heidi: Totally.
Moral of the story? I'll be wearing lots and lots of sunscreen at the zoo. I do not want my face to peel off in the manner of my back. I can hide my back by wearing a shirt but I cannot really hide my face unless I wear a burqa or something, and that seems disrespectful.
You know what's great? Getting a long e-mail from someone you haven't heard from in a while. Yes, Amy, I am talking about you and while I'm at it, please update your blog. Because I am bored. Anyway, she had some book suggestions which gives me an excuse to go to Half Price Books and you know I'll take any excuse to stop in there and drool on the literature.
So, I've been watching America's Next Top Model a lot lately (thank you, TiVo) and have decided that I could never be a model. Physical attributes aside (to begin with, I'm short . . . yeah, really short), I just don't think I could say things like "that's fierce" without giggling or stabbing myself in the eye afterward. Although, I would like to hang out with Janice Dickinson because hello! Bitch is crazy.
AND NOW, Conversations With My Roommate:
Heidi: Did you ever e-mail that guy back?
Me: Oh, no, I forgot. It's probably too late now.
Heidi: Yeaaaaah, it's been like two weeks.
Me: Oh well.
Heidi: Yeah.
Me: Unless I e-mailed him and told him I've been in the hospital or something.
Heidi: Yeah, you could say, "I fell down and have been in a coma, sorry!"
Me: Well, I do fall down a lot, so it's not a total lie.
Heidi: True.
Me: Or, "Sorry, my gonorrhea was acting up, but I'm ok now!"
Heidi: "I had a syphilis outbreak!"
Me: Haha! "Don't worry, it's better now! Do you want to meet me?"
Heidi: Hahahaha! "I'm on antibiotics now so everything is under control."
Me: Oh, god. I'm totally dateable.
Heidi: Totally.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
como se llama, bonita, mi casa, SHAKIRA SHAKIRA
Today is one of those days where I wish I could write something serious and thought out but instead of putting in all that effort I'm going to talk about my sunburn and other things of that nature. Maybe cowbells. The weather. Underwear. WHO KNOWS?
Anyway, so the sunburn. It doesn't hurt anymore. The burn on my arms and thighs has turned a pleasant shade of brown. Tan, if you will. My back, however . . . while it no longer hurts to wear a bra, I'm definitely peeling and it itches ever so badly. Reason number 46 to have a boyfriend . . . he could rub lotion on my back. Or reason number one (and really, isn't it the only reason?) to have some serial killer/crossdresser keep me in a deep, dark well, lower a basket and shriek, "it puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the HOSE again" at me. Anyone? Bueller? And moving on.
So, I didn't do anything productive last night and do you want to know why? When I got home from work, I saw that TiVo was very kindly recording the entire season of America's Next Top Model: Season the Fourth so OF COURSE I had to watch that all evening. After I watched The Daily Show and you know? If there were a 24 hour Daily Show network I would quit my job and stock up on Red Bull and coffee so I could watch it all. Day. Long. Of course, then I wouldn't have any money so I wouldn't be able to pay for cable or, actually, the Red Bull or the coffee. CONUNDRUM. I suppose I could steal the Red Bull and coffee and for that matter the cable, which would probably end in disaster one night when the cable went out and I jittered up to the roof to try and fix it and ended up electrocuting myself or strangling myself with the cable wire. True story.
Another factor in my nonproductivity was the Big Brother show last night, which . . . OK, was kind of boring. I had already learned from the Internets who the 20 finalists were going to be and some of them were no brainers anyway so . . . there was an hour wasted. Well, more like an 55 minutes because about five minutes showcased my Reality TV Boyfriend Kaysar (different than my Fictional TV Boyfriend Jim Halpert) and any time spent looking at Kaysar is time well spent. So hot. Ok, I'll stop now.
I'm in a book rut. Does anyone have any suggestions? I have unread books to read, of course, from my last couple of stops at Half-Price Books, but none of them are inspiring me to actually pick them up and read them. HELP. ME.
Anyway, so the sunburn. It doesn't hurt anymore. The burn on my arms and thighs has turned a pleasant shade of brown. Tan, if you will. My back, however . . . while it no longer hurts to wear a bra, I'm definitely peeling and it itches ever so badly. Reason number 46 to have a boyfriend . . . he could rub lotion on my back. Or reason number one (and really, isn't it the only reason?) to have some serial killer/crossdresser keep me in a deep, dark well, lower a basket and shriek, "it puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the HOSE again" at me. Anyone? Bueller? And moving on.
So, I didn't do anything productive last night and do you want to know why? When I got home from work, I saw that TiVo was very kindly recording the entire season of America's Next Top Model: Season the Fourth so OF COURSE I had to watch that all evening. After I watched The Daily Show and you know? If there were a 24 hour Daily Show network I would quit my job and stock up on Red Bull and coffee so I could watch it all. Day. Long. Of course, then I wouldn't have any money so I wouldn't be able to pay for cable or, actually, the Red Bull or the coffee. CONUNDRUM. I suppose I could steal the Red Bull and coffee and for that matter the cable, which would probably end in disaster one night when the cable went out and I jittered up to the roof to try and fix it and ended up electrocuting myself or strangling myself with the cable wire. True story.
Another factor in my nonproductivity was the Big Brother show last night, which . . . OK, was kind of boring. I had already learned from the Internets who the 20 finalists were going to be and some of them were no brainers anyway so . . . there was an hour wasted. Well, more like an 55 minutes because about five minutes showcased my Reality TV Boyfriend Kaysar (different than my Fictional TV Boyfriend Jim Halpert) and any time spent looking at Kaysar is time well spent. So hot. Ok, I'll stop now.
I'm in a book rut. Does anyone have any suggestions? I have unread books to read, of course, from my last couple of stops at Half-Price Books, but none of them are inspiring me to actually pick them up and read them. HELP. ME.
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