just wondering

Do they give you the Jesus fish, "Support our Troops" magnet, and Bush/Cheney sticker for free when you buy your SUV or do they cost extra?

happy little clouds

Tonight, as I was driving home from my parent's, the sky looked like a total Bob Ross painting.

shortest movie recaps ever

Sometimes I just feel like posting something, even though I really have nothing to write about. I'm watching Mean Girls for about the 5th time this week (I don't know) and aside from Mean Girls I've watched movies pretty much continuously all weekend.

Ed Wood - Odd

Keeping the Faith - Underrated

Love Actually - Lovely

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - Perfect

Motorcycle Diaries - Powerful

Before Sunset - Refreshing

Four of the six movies above made me cry at least once. I blame it on hormones. I'll let you deduce which movies they were.

This is the most boring post ever. Sorry. After all the coffee I've had this morning, you'd think I'd be a little more exciting but you'd be wrong.

civic duty

On the news just now, they showed a man in some field allegedly growing his own marijuana. The anchor urged viewers to call a certain number if they recognized the pot farmer so the proper authorities could catch him. But if I knew this guy, I wouldn't call the police, I would call HIM and blackmail him for free pot.

things that bug me (today)

-I get off work early today and it's raining.

-It's supposed to rain all weekend.

-People who call William Shakespeare "Bill" or "Willy" Shakespeare.

-The Cat waking me up by pouncing on my stomach and/or boobs.

-Creed (actually, this bugs me every day).

I have a feeling that this is going to be one of those weekends where I hole myself up in my apartment and stay in my pajamas all day watching movies. Sweet!

This has nothing to do with anything, but I had a dream with Napoleon Dynamite in it last night. Yeah, I don't know either.

aunt flo

Having to wear white pants when you're on your period is the cruelest joke ever.

hoo hoo doctor

I'm pretty much way past my annual visit to the OB/GYN, and every time I drive by the office I get all paranoid that they're all going to come running out waving speculums and abnormally large Q-tips and drag me inside, so I drive just a little bit faster.

just a post about nothing

At this very moment, my friend Mary is ditching me AGAIN for Brazil. Back when Kate was getting ready to leave for the land of MALAWI AFRICA, I mentioned something at a family gathering about my friends leaving for faraway places. My grandma laughed and said, "Jennie, why do all your friends want to get away from you?" like HAHA Grandma, very funny. I could say something really mean here, Grandma, especially since I think you're the only family member who doesn't know about this blog, but I won't because I love you. And also because I know you still know how to do that Vulcan death pinch thing to the back of the arm and frankly that scares me a little. OK, more than a little.

Anyway. So Mary is leaving. I may as well mention now that the secret plans that I can't divulge also involve Mary. OOOH. And since she will be gone for the next few months and won't be here to tell me when to shut up I predict that I will have spilled the beans to everyone I know before she gets back. It's OK, though, she knows I cannot keep my mouth shut and we're still friends.

I wish I hadn't bragged so much a couple of days ago when I got gas for $2.53 because today I saw it for $2.45! I almost drove into the gas station and filled up my trunk and glove compartment with gas but there was a long line so I didn't. I can't wait until I don't have to drive anymore. (Ooooh, another hint . . . this secret will not last more than two days, I just know it)

Whenever I need reassurance that I haven't turned into a cynical bitch (I'm OK with being a bitch, but not cynical), I watch Breakfast at Tiffany's. The first time I can watch Audrey Hepburn run through the alley looking for Cat WITHOUT crying like a child I will know I am dead inside. I'm not saying that if you DON'T cry during this part you are dead inside. It's just my personal litmus test. But seriously. Why don't you cry? It's so SAD. And then she finds the cat, and it's all wet and sad and she picks it up and puts it in her coat and then hugs Paul and the cat is just sitting there getting squished between them like, "I hate you both, go hail a freaking taxi," and I'm just gonna admit right now that I have no idea where I'm going with this.

If I ever die while working out, the people at the hospital are probably going to wonder why I'm wearing two sports bras, unless one of them also has annoyingly large boobs. Why is the word boob so funny? My dad said they used to have a dog named Boob when he was little. I just kept picturing my Grandma standing on the front porch yelling, "Boooooooooob!" and it made me giggle.

And now the entry has come full circle. Thanks, Grandma.

today I said . . .

"I just got gas for $2.53," and I WAS BRAGGING.

whaddup, kaySAR

Ok, I know the Future Father of My Children (FFoMC) got kicked off of the show tonight (for the second time, nice), but the rest of Big Brother was fucking awesome.

I promise to stop with the Big Brother posts soon.

I'm watching you

I'm going to confess something and I hope it doesn't lose the respect of the ten of you who read this. I am totally and completely obsessed with Big Brother this season. And I know I'm not the only one. But I think I'm the only one who is so obsessed because of just one person.

Kaysar. Oooooh, Kaysar. I would have about 10,000 of his babies.

Luckily, the obsession is not interferring with work or my social life. Yet. I mean, the show is on tonight but I'm still going out*.

So, see? There is hope yet.

*I'm taping it

I've got a fevah, and the only prescription

IS MORE COWBELL.

How am I supposed to concentrate at work when the COWBELL song is on the radio?!

Now all I can picture is Will Ferrell dancing around banging the hell out of a cowbell.

Sigh.

UPDATE: Now they're playing Afternoon Delight. I mean COME ON.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Happy Birthday, Dad! I know I've been calling you an old man all week, but really you're not THAT old.

I need to stop watching Garden State

Ever since e-mailing my mother the following:

I'm going home after work to change, and then I'll be home at 5:30

and not even realizing how it could be construed as nonsensical until after I sent it and sat here for a while thinking about it, I've been wondering about the word "home." I've called a lot of different places home in the past few years. I lived in four different places while in college, even though all were at Witt, and that's not counting what I called home-home (my parent's house) while I was at my school-home. It got confusing, especially when talking to someone on the phone.

Friend: Hey, where are you?
Me: I'm at home.
Friend: Oh, how are your parents?
Me: I don't know. Fine?
Friend: I thought you said you were at home.
Me: I did.

And so on. And even now, when I'm on my own and I have a new home-home, I still say I'm going home when I go to visit my parents. I wonder if it will always be that way, even though that house doesn't feel like MY house anymore. Particularly because I no longer have a room. A couple days after I moved out my little sister invaded.

It's like a part of me has split off. Even though I'm not living there any more, part of me still feels like it's home. Just like part of me will always feel like Wittenberg is home. Does that happen every time you move? When I move out of my apartment in April (if all goes as planned, fingers crossed) will part of me stay there? Or will it just be that place I lived before I moved to ______?

Or should I just stop smoking so much crack?

Nah.

Do you even smoke crack? Or do you sniff it? Shoot it? Anyone?

how to cure a bad day

Get out of work on time for once.

Play with cat.

Have a glass of white wine.

Eat a good dinner.

Find five dollars in purse's secret pocket.

(don't laugh) Watch Sleeping Beauty. Yes, the Disney version. Bite me.

anger ball

I am having . . . a BAD . . . DAY.

My case of the Mondays starts on Sunday night

Once again, it's almost 8 o'clock on a Sunday, I'm realizing that the weekend hours are quickly dwindling away and I've accomplished almost nothing.

Here is what I have accomplished this weekend:

done one load of laundry
done dishes
gotten a haircut
watched four movies
read one and a half books
caught up on all the sleep I didn't get last week

Yeah. That sounds pretty good.

On a complete sidenote, I'm also realizing how hard it is to save money, especially now that I NEED to be saving as much as possible because my secret plans are pretty dependent on me saving enough money.

So. I think I may get rid of my internet and phone line. I'll keep my cell phone, of course. But after staring at a computer screen all day long, I really don't care to do it once I get home. I'm going back and forth on this. On the one hand, it's really convenient to have the internet in case I need to look something up. On the other hand, the things I tend to look up (for instance, earlier I looked up which state has the most airports and Google was NO HELP AT ALL, so the Internet lost one point) usually have no importance whatsoever, other than to satisfy my curiosity.

This is just like Sophie's Choice.

I'll never teee-eell

I suck at keeping secrets. Not big secrets. If you tell me you're dropping out of high school because you're pregnant with the principal's baby, I could totally keep that quiet (right Janine? I'm just kidding. I don't even know anyone named Janine.)

I ruin surprises. Not on purpose. I just get so excited that I can't help blurting it out to the intended surprisee. When I was five or six, my parents took me to my friend's birthday party. I remember my mom telling me several times not to tell my friend what her present was. The minute we walked in and I handed my friend the present, I immediately said, "here, we got you a My Little Pony," as my mom covered my mouth with her hand. Too late.

Junior year, a few of us got my friend Erin a very special present. We were all so excited to give it to her, we couldn't wait til her birthday. The NIGHT BEFORE we were going to give her the present, Erin and I were at McMurray's and I told her what we had gotten her. I made her promise not to tell our other friends that I had ruined the surprise, but the next night, after she opened it, I ended up telling them all anyway! I can't even keep my own secrets.

So, I was very proud of myself last weekend when I actually managed to not ruin a surprise. Mary made a surprise visit to Erica's new house, and Erica had no idea until Mary walked in the door.

The point is, I have a new secret so delicious, so very exciting, that all I want to do is tell EVERYONE who crosses my path. Only five people know. One of them is my co-conspirator and two of the others are my parents. If all goes as planned, I think I can finally spill the secret to everyone else I know sometime in January*. I would tell everyone now, but there are some people I don't want to know because I know them, and I know that out of jealousy or just plain meanness they would try to bring me down and shit all over my plans and I really don't want shit all over my shiny, new plans yet.

Anyway. There it is. I don't think I've ever been this excited about anything and I can't wait until I can tell everyone.

I know myself, though. I wouldn't be surprised if sometime next week I spill my secret all over the internets.

*Just for the record, I am not pregnant, I am not secretly married, I am not GETTING married, and I am not having a sex change operation.

but my lips hurt real bad!

Oh, Napoleon. I feel your pain. My lips, they are so chapped right now and I'm not sure why. It could be the massive dehydration from this weekend, it could be sunburn, I don't know. All I know is, when your lips are already chapped, and you were up until 5:30 AM drinking, it's probably not a good idea to go lie in the sun for two hours. Also, Blistex is a dirty, dirty liar. SPF 15, my ass.

So, yeah. Good weekend, but I'm still feeling the aftereffects. And it's not like I've learned anything, either, because I went swimming this afternoon and since my chapstick melted in the sun and I was too lazy to walk my ass back to my apartment to get more, my lips, they still hurt real bad.

And it's really, really hard not to call each and every one of my friends and say, "Is Grandma there?"*

*If you don't get that, I'm sorry, but seriously . . . go rent Napoleon Dynamite.