I have a proposition for you, Internets

As you may or may not know, one of my best friends (Kate) is currently overseas volunteering with the Peace Corps. Communication, while not impossible, is certainly a little more difficult now than when she was living down the hall from me. Or in Columbus, for that matter. Although I was pleasantly surprised to see that even in MALAWI AFRICA she still managed to comment on my blog. Way to be, Kate, way to be.

However. Even though she is in the faraway land of MALAWI AFRICA she can still receive letters and soon, I think, she will have a cell phone. I find it really interesting that, while she has to shit in a hole in the ground and live in a mud hut (hee), she will soon have a cell phone.

Anyway. As for my proposition. Kate has informed me that mail is jealously coveted by Peace Corps volunteers, which is totally understandable since they've left their friends and family far, far behind in the land of indoor plumbing and TiVo.

Internet to the rescue! The people who read my blog are kind, dear human beings (at least I think you're all human . . . sometimes I wonder (I kid, I kid!)) and I know for A FACT that many of them are funny, talented writers because I read their blogs on a regular basis. So, dear, sweet, kind Internets, I was wondering if some of you would be willing to write letters to Kate and the other Peace Corps volunteers of MALAWI AFRICA.

I haven't thought through this much (surprise, surprise) because the thought just occurred to me earlier this morning, but if you're at all interested shoot me an e-mail (wittbax@gmail.com) and I'll tell you how to go about sending a letter/card/dirty limerick to Kate or one of her fellow volunteers. In MALAWI AFRICA. And if you're lucky, Kate will tell you all about pooing in a hole in the ground with diarrhea.

Dear Cat,

While I appreciate you killing the errant bugs that find their way into my apartment, I do not enjoy finding half-devoured insect carcasses strewn ALL OVER MY SANDALS. Seriously. Did you throw half of that shit up? You know, my dog sometimes threw up. When she did that, though, she at least had the common courtesy to eat it.

And if you didn't throw it up, please explain to me why I found a leg, half of the head, and what looked like the INSIDE of the torso. Didn't you like those parts? Come on! You killed it, why don't you just EAT THE WHOLE THING?

Don't turn up your nose. I've seen what places on your body you lick the most.

Sincerely,

Your Owner

PS: Why don't you bury your poo in the kitty litter? Aren't all cats supposed to know how to do that? Please tell me I don't have to teach you how. Don't think I won't, though, because I'm sick of walking by your litter box and seeing your huge turds staring at me. (Seriously, though, why is your poo so big? Is it the because of the parts of the bug that you DO eat? If so, please stop eating bugs altogether. You may keep killing them. It'd be nice if you'd bury them in your litter box as well. Thanks. Love you!)

PPS: I'm tired of waking up at 5 AM because cold, cat nose is pressed up against my face. I'll feed you when I get up. Stop trying to steal my breath.

all evidence points to nerd

Number of days I've had Bride and Prejudice from Netflix: 7

Number of times I've watched Bride and Prejudice: 8

Number of times I've been thankful that I was watching it alone because of my endless comparisons to both Pride and Prejudice the miniseries and Pride and Prejudice the book: Too many to count

Saturday Night Lame

Isn't it strange how you always associate movies you see in the theater with the people you see them with? Let's all assume, of course, that everyone, not just me, does this because it'll make things a lot easier. Let's also all ignore the fact that I ended the first sentence of this entry with a preposition and all of my former English teachers will sleep better at night.

Am I the only one that does this? I get warm, fuzzy feelings when I watch some movies because they remind me of the person or people I saw them with. I really hope other people do this, because the more I talk about it the more I'm starting to worry that I'm the only one who remembers who was at each and every movie I've ever seen in the theater.

Anyway, as an example, I will always associate Bridget Jones's Diary with my friend and aura-twin Amy, and not just because we were (ok, ARE) obsessed with anything Mr. Darcy-related, but also because we saw that movie about five times in the theater.

When ET was re-released a couple of years ago, I went with my family to see it. It was one of my favorite movie experiences because ET was my favorite movie when I was little (explains a lot, doesn't it?) but the experience was tainted because they took out the line where Elliot calls his brother "penis breath," which everyone knows is the best and most important line of the movie.

See? They aren't all good associations. I cannot watch Bedazzled (and not just because it sucks) because it reminds me of who I saw it in the theater with (uh-oh, again with the prepositions). I saw it with two friends, one of whom I could not stand (so I guess you could say I saw it with one friend and one annoying person who only came with us because she lived next door and overheard us talking about going). The person I didn't like broke THE cardinal rule (at least for me) of the movie theater which is, "if the theater has gotten too dark to see the popcorn you're shoveling into your mouth, kindly shut the fuck up." The minute Brendan Frasier came on screen, she leaned over and asked me how old he was. That was the first of many times in the next two hours in which I wanted to smack the shit out of her.

I don't know what spawned this entry (coughWINEcough), but I'm off to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's with my cat (because I am THAT cool). Breakfast at Tiffany's will from now on always be associated with Phoebe, not because I haven't seen it before*, but because Phoebe looks exactly like Cat the, um, cat in the movie.

*incidently, I can't help but wish there were a movie theater around here that showed old movies

mulligan

I'm supposed to go putt-putting tonight. The last time I went putt-putting was the last day of classes senior year of high school (5 years ago, for those counting) and I ended the course by hitting myself in the forehead with my own golf ball.

If I don't post for a few days, it may mean I am in the hospital with a serious head injury.

why people don't want to go out in public with me

The following exchange took place at Target:

Friend: Look at how cute these baby shoes are!

Me: Oh my god, that makes my ovaries ache.

Sister (whispering): Jennie, there's a guy in the aisle next to ours.

Me: So? He knows I have ovaries.

Aaaaand SCENE.

stupid Muggle

This morning I had a longer commute than usual because we were in our other office. And I actually spent about 10 minutes before I left trying to figure out a way I could read the new Harry Potter while I drove there.

Brilliant.

By popular demand . . .

And by popular demand, I mean my mother.


Phoebe, Internets. Internets, Phoebe. She looks bored with you already.

PS: I promise not to become one of those crazy pet-owners who posts pictures of her cat every day. I mean, maybe every OTHER day, but that's hardly crazy.

no more crack before bed

So, last night I had this dream that my old roommate, Liz, and I were back in the dormroom we lived in sophomore year. The entire dorm was totally run down and falling apart and even though we knew someone was going to bomb the crap out of the building at any moment (I don't know), we were up on the 10th floor looking around. Eventually, we realize that, hey the building is going to blow up and if we're inside there's a good chance that we might, you know, die. DreamLiz and DreamJennie are obviously super smart.

We start running down the stairs and it's a long way down (10th floor, people) but we're laughing about how many times we've run down the stairs during fire drills, including that one that She-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless set off with a watergun. Like, way to crack up when YOUR ASS IS BEING BOMBED, morons.

As we're running into the parking lot, the building explodes and we run into this field area that just does not even exist at the real Wittenberg. And for some reason President Douche is standing there and he shakes our hands and congratulates us on being alive or whatever. And, instead of taking the highroad FOR ONCE and just acting like a polite human being who is MEETING THE PRESIDENT (even though he is a douchebag) I start berating him and asking him what he's going to do about Karl Rove. WTF?

What does this dream mean? Either I really am, as I've always suspected, a huge asshole who would berate the leader of the free world TO HIS FACE or I've been getting too many e-mails from MoveOn.org, Howard Dean, John Kerry, Democracy Now, etc.

Hmm. Curious.

I'll save you a seat

I've always kind of (kind of? heh) suspected it, but according to this test*, I'm going straight to hell.

*Test stolen from Best Week Ever, and yes, it was created by DJ

Wild Kingdom, part two

I have a new roommate. She's a lot quieter than all my former roommates, but she licks herself and meows a lot more. Also? She poos in a box in the corner. Only one of my past roommates did that.

Yes, I got a cat yesterday. I adopted her from SICSA (Society for the Improvement of the Conditions of Stray Animals. They make you learn that before you can take home a pet. Not really, I'm just a tool. As you know. Anyway.) Originally, I wanted to get a dog, but my apartment complex only allows dogs under 20 pounds and I hate those little, yippy rat-bastard dogs. So, I decided if I couldn't bring home a Lab or a St. Bernard I'd adopt another animal that needed a home. Even though I've never owned a cat and really have no cat knowledge to speak of, I couldn't resist the one I ended up getting.

Phoebe (formerly Ally, but I changed her name because that's the name of my friend's dog) is three years old and looks just like Puss 'n Boots from Shrek 2, especially when she opens her eyes really wide. She doesn't, however, wear boots and carry a sword but that would be pretty sweet. Already, I couldn't imagine life without her because last night she stalked and killed a cockroach.

Worth every penny.

Wild Kingdom

So, last night when I got home from an impromptu Dragon's Game (which they lost, like they always do except for that one time which was obviously a fluke) I flipped the lightswitch to discover a COCKROACH sitting on the floor by the breakfast bar.

Ok. I haven't written about this because I find it disgusting, but in the past couple of weeks I've seen a few cockroaches. WHICH MEANS there are more hidden around in dark corners of my apartment. Whenever I see one, I empty about half a can of Raid on the little sucker and wait for it to die. One time, and I'm not kidding you, this ginormous cockroach took TEN MINUTES to die even though I sprayed him continuously for about five of those minutes. I think I need some stronger bug spray, but I'm kind of afraid I'll asphyxiate myself in the process of bugicide.

I know it's like a normal part of having an apartment, but it's kind of embarrassing. I'm not a dirty person! Aside from not showering occasionally, of course. And, I mean, there's sometimes a lot of clutter but it's piles of books and mail, not feces and garbage (I promise).

I bought some of those roach hotels and put them in various corners around my apartment and they seemed to be working because I hadn't seen any cockroaches in a couple of days. Except for one, but it was lying dead on its back next to one of the traps. YES.

I don't know, as long as they don't come swarming out of the utility closet and kill me, a la that one episode of The X-Files, I think I'll be OK. I don't have much experience with cockroaches. In fact, all of my cockroach knowledge came from that episode of The X-Files, so I don't know how reliable it is. All I remember is that those cockroaches didn't like to be touched but they liked poo and darkness and BURROWING INTO SKIN OH MY GOD.

And last night, after my run in with The Cockroach that Ate Cincinnati, I went out to water my flowers. Even though it was 10:30 and dark and the minute I turned on the porch light all these bugs swarmed the porch. When I started to water my hanging plant, a freaking BIRD flew out. What the hell? I mean, I know my flowers are pretty and awesome, but find someplace else to nest, OK? I don't want bird crap all over my porch because I'm pretty sure a cat has already been peeing on it.

sucking at life

I didn't shower before work today. I had another one of those sleep for an hour/wake up/repeat nights. It probably didn't help that I kept having this dream that I was pregnant and then suddenly wasn't. Anyway, long story short (ha!) I thought it would be a more productive use of my time this morning to hit snooze over and over rather than get up and shower.

Lately, I've also been forgetting to eat lunch. I think in the past week I've probably eaten lunch about twice. It's not that I don't get hungry. I'm either too busy to do anything other than shove some pretzels down my throat (very dangerous) or I forget to bring lunch with me and I'm trying this new thing called "saving money" so rather than go to Subway or something I just eat some goldfish (crackers, not real) that I find at work.

Maybe this not eating, or eating handfuls of snack food, explains the weird stomach pangs I get in the middle of the day. Or why I'm so cranky around this time of day. Or why I pass out while I'm driving and wake up in a ditch with strange dents and small children on my car.

weekend recap, short version

I thought I'd just do a quick recap of the weekend, cause I'm still pretty tired, and also because this blog is called "long story short" and not "ramble pointlessly for five paragraphs about watching fireworks."

Friday - Went to concert. Michael Tolcher was freaking awesome. Howie Day kind of blew. Mary touched Gavin Degraw.

Saturday - Went to Humane Society and almost bought a dog named Gizmo. Saw War of the Worlds. Eh. Didn't shower all day.

Sunday - Cookout at Stiffie's. Crack juice, hot dogs, beer, rum, margaritas, tequila, water, couch.

Monday - Wendy's no longer cures hangovers. Mary left. It took me three hours to shower and get dressed. Went to Aunt Karen's. Learned that cornhole is not a contact sport. Watched fireworks. Got stuck in traffic. Came home. Slept forever.

Now - Day off. Still in pajamas. For some reason have lost voice. Plans to sit on couch and watch movies all day and may possibly leave apartment to forage for food, although I still have a bunch of hotdogs left from the cookout but the thought of eating another hot dog kind of makes me never want to eat again.

thievery

This was shamelessly stolen from Peter because I am very bored and also because I need a self-esteem booster*.

1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you have a crush on me?
5. Would you kiss me?
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
7. Describe me in one word.
8. What was your first impression?
9. Do you still think that way about me now?
10. What reminds you of me?
11. If you could give me anything what would it be?
12. How well do you know me?
13. When's the last time you saw me?
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
15. Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you?

*So think of me, sitting alone in my apartment crying into a bottle of wine/bowl of ice cream/bag of crack**, before you decide not to comment.

**don't do drugs