YOU GUYS

I don't want to brag, but . . . OK, yes, I do. I totally want to brag. I am going to brag to anyone who will listen because I have never gotten to brag about this particular thing before in the (long) history of all my bragging.

OK. Here goes. Yesterday . . . at Chipotle . . . I ate . . . THE ENTIRE BURRITO. See?

This totally makes up for that time in DC when I couldn't eat the whole thing and I covered it with a napkin and then Abigail mocked me for the rest of the trip.

ALSO. It has not escaped my notice that, well, my blog has sucked donkey balls recently*. So. I am now going to (sort of) rip off Kat's idea. If you guys ask me a question in the comments, I'll answer it or whatever. If I feel like it. And if I don't forget about this by tomorrow. YOU'RE WELCOME.

*recently? ha!

tell me about the rabbits, George

So, I'm still dog-sitting. And I don't know why Mocha hates me and wants me to kill myself. Why ELSE would she bark and bark and bark and bark when IT IS CLEARLY TIME TO SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP.

Ahem. So. I'm sleepy. This is pretty standard for . . . well, any day, really. But at least it's Friday. FRIDAY. And I have no obligations whatsoever this weekend, unless you count a movie and ice cream and mini-golf as obligations but I DON'T. I call those . . . I don't know, something else that doesn't mean obligation. Whatever. Shut up, I'm tired.

Every morning, as I leave my aunt and uncle's house to go to work, there are bunnies in the front yard. Sometimes just one, but SOMETIMES there are two. But they always run away from me. I tried to avoid eye contact, all "I'm not going to hurt you, tiny bunny, I love you and want to be your friend," but they run away anyway. I don't understand, bunnies, WHY? Why won't you love me?

When I was in 4th or 5th grade (like I remember which one), my class went to the park for a picnic on the last day of school. As we were walking from the park back to the school building, I noticed some boys kneeling around this patch of tall grass, poking at something. I went over and saw they were messing around with a rabbit nest, and that there were tiny, tiny bunnies inside. No big bunnies, just babies, with their eyes closed and everything.

Well. I got a little irate, put my hands on my hips, and told those boys to get the fuck away from those bunnies (note: I did not say fuck back then) and THEN I got really irate because I thought, "now this nest smells like stinky human boys and the mom bunny is never going to come back." PLUS ALSO, they'd moved the nest all around from somewhere else. Stupid human boys. And so I marched myself up to the school, asked for a box, and I took those bunnies home, nest and all. I'm pretty sure now that the whole thing about how if baby bunnies smell like humans, the mom won't come back is completely false, but what do you want? I was like 10. What's a 10-year-old know?

I don't remember exactly what happened next, but I imagine it involved a phone call to my mom that went something like this:

Me: Hi, Mom.
Mom: Hi, Jennie, how was school?
Me: Good . . .
Mom: What is it?
Me: Um. I found some baby bunnies and brought them home.
Mom: What?
Me: THESE BOYS WERE MESSING WITH THEM AND I DIDN'T WANT THE MOM TO NOT TAKE CARE OF THEM ANYMORE, SO I BROUGHT THEM HOME AND THEY'RE IN A BOX ON THE BACK PORCH BECAUSE THESE BOYS WERE MESSING WITH THEM, MOM!
Mom: Sigh.

In any case, we fed them with an eye dropper and took them to a rescue wildlife center. This wasn't the first time we'd nursed baby animals. My mom found baby squirrels in the backyard that had fallen out of the nest and we took care of those, too. Also, I used to bring home stray dogs and put them in the garage, and have more fun phone conversations with my mom:

Me: Hi, Mom.
Mom: Hello, Jennie. What are you doing?
Me: Nothing.
Mom: Jennie . . .
Me: Um, I found this dog while I was riding my bike, so I brought him home. He's in the garage.
Mom: Jennie.
Me: He's really cute and nice! He has white fur! And I named him Frank!
Mom: Jennie, is he wearing a collar?
Me: . . . yes.
Mom: Does the collar have tags on it?
Me: . . . yes.
Mom: Jennie, that is someone's dog. Go let it out of the garage.
Me: But!
Mom: Jennie.
Me: OK.

That is a (mostly) true story. I say mostly because I can barely remember last week, let alone 16 years ago.

Take car. Go to mum's. Kill Phil, grab Liz, go to the Winchester, have a nice cold pint, and wait for all of this to blow over.

Today Peefer shared the greatest meme ever. And here it is:

You are in a mall when the zombies attack. You have:

1. One weapon.
2. One song blasting on the speakers.
3. One famous person to fight alongside you.

Weapon can be real or fictional; you may assume endless ammo if applicable. Person can be real or fictional.

My answers?

1. Winchester
2. Ring of Fire, Johnny Cash
3. Batman

this is an absolutely true (boring) story

Oh my gosh, you guys, do I ever have some exciting news. Hold onto your butts (thank you, Samuel L. Jackson) because this? Is going to be amazing.

I don't know if you know this (but I'm kind of a big deal), but every Monday at Subway is Free Cookie Monday. I try not to make going out to lunch a habit, but I can't resist free cookies. So today, I went to Subway to get my usual (turkey on wheat) and the lady at the cash register was all, "for here or to go?" and I was all, "for here," and then ten seconds later I was all, "did I say here, cause I meant to go," and she gave me this look like, oh you poor sad creature, you are so stupid and then she gave me my chocolate chip cookie and I left. True story. So I got back to the office, put half my sub in the fridge for tomorrow, and checked on my free cookie. You know, to make sure it wasn't afraid, because it was dark inside the bag and everyone knows chocolate chip cookies are afraid of the dark. And lo and behold . . . I looked in the bag . . . and there were TWO COOKIES. TWO FREE COOKIES. TWO FREE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES. Either she thought I was super awesome or she felt sorry for me because I don't know the difference between "here" and "to go." I don't really care. If being completely stupid gets you double free cookies, then I'm going to play dumb more often.

Also, do you ever have those moments where it feels like everyone is staring at you? I totally had one of those at Subway. It was weird and I got all paranoid that I had, like, ink all over my face or my fly was down or something.

Speaking of paranoid . . . I'm dog-sitting for my aunt and uncle this week and they have two dogs. Roxy, who is the greatest dog ever created and Mocha, who is . . . special. She is completely adorable when she's like, sleeping. Or just not barking. Because the barking makes me want to rip off my ears. Last night, she barked and barked and barked while I tried to go to bed. This went on for a long, long time. Not only was it annoying, but it made me wonder if there was someone out in the backyard, waiting for me to go to sleep so they could break in and torment me and kill me. I know that's completely ridiculous, but it just proves once again that Heidi and I should never have gone to see The Strangers.

Cake or death?

Um, cake please.

(I'm in Nazi Germany right now and can't watch YouTube, so I hope that's the right clip . . . meh.)

Chah-lie bit me.

I used the lotion I won at the tea party this morning. Now I smell like pink grapefruit. JEALOUS?

Last night, a bug flew in my eye while I was running. IT REALLY HURT. It's since been evicted, but my eyeball still hurts and now I'm worried I have a weird bug-eye disease.

Also, last night, Heidi and I went downtown to scope out some venues for Tamara's bachelorette party. One place serves wine and LOTS OF IT. I really hope we go there. Mostly, because it's within walking distance of a bunch of other bars and junk and bars and junk are really what you want for a bachelorette party. I don't know why we don't go downtown more often. It's not like downtown Dayton can compete with, um, any other cities, but there's stuff to do. FOR INSTANCE, Uno's pizza is down there and while that's not really something to DO, it's something to EAT, and that's almost as good. I don't know what I'm saying, so I'm going to stop now.

So we ate some Uno's pizza last night, which is why we felt compelled to go running, because there are approximately 800 calories in one bite of Uno's pizza. But it's worth it because it's SO GOOD, you guys. You know what, though? There are some freaky ass statues downtown. Like, they're made of bronze or whatever you make statues out of (not chocolate), but they're wearing REAL CLOTHES. They are, and I quote, "creepy as fuck." I just quoted myself. Is that weird?

Tomorrow, I'm dog-sitting for my aunt and uncle FOR OVER A WEEK. Dude, Jennie, lay off the Caps Lock. Anyway, they're going to California or something, and since dog's aren't self-sufficient like cats and babies, they need someone to feed them. So prepare for this blog to explode with crazy for the next week and a half, because I won't be able to spew my verbal diarrhea at Heidi. Wow, that's a disgusting image. I'm sorry.

and then we all ate ice cream

Yesterday, I fell off of a tightrope. It was going pretty well there for a while, but my balance is not that great (hence: all the falling down) and also there was this jumping bear trap right in the middle and when I tried to jump over it? I fell. And probably died. That's what usually happens when you're tightroping between two buildings and a bear trap closes on your legs and you fall to the ground. Good times.

Oh, and my parents got Wii Fit. That's how I managed to fall off a tightrope and still remain typing to you. I also ran a race. You put the Wiimote in your pocket and just run in place. It was fun until I realized I was, you know, running. Then I tried to hula hoop. Yeah, let's not talk about that.

Before all the Wii Fitting, I drove my mom to the video store and we passed this lady walking down the side of the street, pushing a grocery cart. She was wearing a hot dog hat. A HOT DOG HAT. (Heidi, like that one we bought Nancy that one time.) For real, she had a wiener on her head. A big one.

After dinner, we were watching Indiana Jones and I started explaining to my dad my idea for a new motivational tool that companies can use to, um, motivate their employees. Say you're walking down to accounts payable to drop off some invoices, OK? Wouldn't it be a lot more exciting if the Indiana Jones theme song was playing over loudspeakers in the hallway? Picture it . . . you're strolling along and then you hear, "Do do do dooooooo! Do do doooooo! Do do do dooooo! Do do do-do-do!" and then suddenly you're RUNNING down the hall and sliding down banisters and like, using your whip to swing across giant holes on the ground. You'd get those invoices to accounting SO MUCH FASTER. I really think this would boost productivity. Also, I thought it'd be fun if the Darth Vader song played as the CEO was walking toward your office. You know, as a warning signal to stop fucking around and get back to work. I think I'm going to explore this. Maybe I'll get my own infomercial.

I know it sounds like I've been doing a lot of shrooms or something, but I swear I haven't. This is all natural.