so gather up your jackets, move it to the exits, I hope you have found a friend

So here's the thing. I kicked NaBloPoMo's ass. I posted every day for a month AND THEN SOME. To be honest with you, I was never that worried about not being able to post every day. I post pretty much every day anyway. Plus, my brain is so full of thoughts. Not necessarily good thoughts, or clever thoughts, but thoughts NONETHELESS. And as I explained to Abigail! and Kat!, my mind is like a snake bite (stay with me). You know how if you get bitten by a snake? You have to suck the poison out? Well, if I don't get all the words out of my brain then I'll die. Or something. It was not a very good analogy, but whatever.

I'm a lot more concerned about my next endeavor. I've decided to participate in Kat!'s first ever NoBloPoMo (figure it out). So. See you guys next year.

Here it is. Heart of New York City. Times Square. Named for the good times you have when you’re in it.

Heidi has been in NYC with her mom since last week, so I have been left to my own devices since I got home from DC Monday evening. This means I have eaten nothing but junk food, watched way too much TV, and spent the majority of my time dicking around on the Internets. At first I was a little jealous that I didn't get to go to NYC (hint, hint MOM), but then I remembered that I was going to DC for a Thanksgiving miracle. And in any case, I would have so been in the way. Heidi and her mom like to shop. Like A LOT. I hate shopping. Like A LOT. The only things I really like shopping for are t-shirts and books. I could spend hours in a bookstore, but nobody else I'm with ever wants to spend that much time there. If I had my way, I'd just move into a bookstore. I'd make myself a little fort out of books. Only I'd have to use books I don't like to read so I wouldn't have to dismantle my book fort every time I wanted to read. I could probably use encyclopedias. Encyclopedias are irrelevant anyway, thanks to Wackopedia. I could probably use magazines for the roof of my fort since I wouldn't have to worry about rain. And I'd use a Where's Waldo book for the door, cause it's thin but big enough to block the doorway. And if I was feeling friendly (ha!), I could move the Where's Waldo book out of the way pretty easily. Um. ANYWAY.

They also saw the Rockettes. Now, I've never been to a Rockettes show. The closest I've ever come to seeing a Rockettes show is when Daddy Warbucks takes Annie to see one. But I've seen enough to know that the Rockettes and I would not get along. They never stop smiling. They're far too enthusiastic about throwing their legs up into the air like they just don't care. Also, they seem really tall and really tall people make me uneasy, because I'm afraid they might not see me and they'll just run right over me with their big, monster, clown feet.

This morning I got a text message from Heidi asking me to TiVo The Today Show. This means they got up early to go stand outside that giant window. You couldn't PAY me to do that. It involves everything I hate. Getting up early, cold weather, a big crowd of people, and Al Roker. OK, I don't HATE Al Roker, but he does scare me a little. He's always smiling so big that it looks like he's about to take a giant bite out of my leg or something. Anyway, Heidi probably would have MADE me go with her (she's always making me do stuff . . . like leave the apartment) and I would have bitched and complained the entire time and ruined her memories of The Today Show forever.

Plus, I probably would have made them go hang out at the WGA picket line every day so we might see Tina Fey or Conan O'Brien. Or, if we were really lucky, Jon Stewart. Swoon*!

*heh

how's THIS for a walk to remember

On Saturday, when Kat! was kicking my ass at Big Buck Hunter, she told me that you have to be just the right amount of drunk in order to play well. I told her that I've found the same rule applies for Beer Pong. There is a fine line between simply buzzed and BEER PONG CHAMPION and alternately, between BEER PONG CHAMPION and PERSON WHO THROWS PING PONG BALLS 10 FEET PAST THE TABLE.

I think this rule also applies to writing. Sometimes you sit down at the computer so READY TO WRITE and it's like your brain is all clogged. Like . . . the words are right there, but something is in the way and that something is COMPLETE AND UTTER FEAR. I don't know why it's so hard (that's what she said), it just IS. But. Maybe you have a drink or two and things get a bit easier. You stop caring as much about whether what you're writing makes any sense whatsoever. And then, with one more magical sip, the words start flowing. You can't type fast enough. I think this is why so many writers are alcoholics. It's so much easier to write when you're buzzed, because you don't care if what you're writing is any good.

Of course. You have to be careful. If you go past your limit, you could end up typing something like this:

Ths wone time i wentt to the stor and got some cnady and it was so good you gusy so so so so so good i wihs you cud have had somme of it . . . hahaha, omg wtf!

And you can only get away with that if your name is Nicholas Sparks.

I'm sorry. That made no sense. It's just that I hate that guy so much.

Oh. My. God.

I love the YouTubes.

this has a surprise ending*

Brace yourselves. This is going to be long and possibly unpleasant for those of you who were not there.

Now. Let me tell you about the best trip ever. Not only did I get to hang out in DC (which I have decided I am in love with, much to my mother's chagrin), but I got to meet the following people:

Kat!
Abigail!
Heather! Anne!
Heather B!
Mysterygirl! (who really deserves credit for all the exclamation point action the Internets has seen lately)

I left very, very early Friday morning. It was still dark. So dark. I drove and drove and drove and when I got to Maryland I saw this sign:

Oh. My. God. You guys, I almost pooped my pants. I had NO IDEA there were bears in Maryland. I was disappointed that I didn't see any, actually. But not too disappointed because soon I was in DC! And then lost. So very lost. At one point, I was totally driving around some parking lot type area with fences and crap that looked really, really official and I thought a soldier might jump out and arrest me. But Seth got me unlost speedy quick and thanks to him I am not still wandering the cold streets of DC, begging people to please PLEASE tell me how to get to 395. That night, Kat! served us the most delicious meal in all of creation. And we played UNO and there were pirate hooks and a ninja sword and I feel like I've talked about all this before, Internets, but I DON'T CARE BECAUSE IT WAS SO FUN. You know what I like best about Kat!, Internets? She understands just how important alcohol is and I don't think my glass was empty the entire night. Kat! is my people.

The next day we did six miles worth of sightseeing and the very best part was when we walked up the steps at the Lincoln Memorial and stared at the reflection of the Washington Monument in the reflecting pool and Abigail! exclaimed, "OHHHHH! Reflecting pool! Now I get it!" My favorite thing about Abigail!, Internets, is that she gets SO EXCITED about everything. Like, during UNO . . . the whole Super Absorbency card? She would not let UNO off the hook for that. She was SO EXCITED about hating Super Absorbency and FOR GOOD REASON. Also, Seth was the one who created the "Super Absorbency" saying that was repeated the entire weekend, and I give him full credit for that, but I don't know if it would have stuck around if Abigail! had not taken it under her wing and let it grow like a tiny, tiny baby bird (I don't know).

Later that night, we all went to Rocket Bar. This bar has everything. Big Buck Hunter. PBR in cans. A bouncer who told me where the bathroom was after he saw me wandering around aimlessly. BOARD GAMES. And that night? Heather B! and Mysterygirl! I love that they weren't completely terrified that we kept yelling "SUPER ABSORBENCY" the whole night and neither one of them gave me funny looks for anything I said! It was awesome. I mean, even during my speech about how if the United States was the human body (stay with me), and if the body was lying on its side, DC would be the crotch (of the nation) and the Washington Memorial would be the wiener. This led to a discussion where something was said about Ohio and Georgia being the kidneys and Lake Michigan being the vas deferens, but Lake Michigan as the vas deferens was a different version of the US as the human body because . . . oh my god. You know what? I'm gonna stop there because I'm talking about vas deferens. AGAIN. Also, I don't remember a lot of it because most of the time when I'm talking? I'm not even listening to what I'm saying. And I think this all happened after Abigail! bought me a tequila shot so . . . you know. Enough said.

ALSO. We played Sorry! At a bar! And it was as fun as it sounds. Heather! Anne! kicked our asses. You know why? Karma. It's true. Internets, Heather! Anne! is the nicest person who ever existed. She kept telling people to send her back to start! Because it was their best move! AND SHE STILL WON! How? KARMA. Also, she shot so many turkeys during Big Buck Hunter time. She has a gift, it's true. I would also like to talk so much about Abigail! and Heather! Anne's rendition of the OK Go treadmill dance but . . . words don't do it justice. You had to see it in person. It was magic. I just know it.

When we went back home, Kat! made balloon animals (I know!) and then we tied one to a firecracker but we didn't set it off because A) we were inside and B) I think actually we forgot about it because C) oh, the drinking. We stayed up until six, because Heather! Anne's! flight was very, very early in the morning and we decided (notice I did not say Heather! Anne! decided) that it would be better for her to just stay up all night. So we all sat around talking about our families and boys and the difference between digital photos and Polaroids and who knows what else (I don't remember) but I had forgotten just how fun it could be to stay up all night for no raisin. I got cold and tired so I put my jacket on, stretched out on the floor, and listened to the conversation for a while. Before I fell asleep, Kat! crawled over to the iPod lying next to my head, asked what I wanted to hear, and when I said Oasis, she said she knew I was going to say that and the best part was, I KNEW she knew I was going to say that.

During the course of the trip, we even managed to squeeze in several meals at delicious restaurants, a partial viewing of Harry Potter, a total viewing of A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, and several episodes of Futurama. It was the greetest.

There was one bad thing about the trip, though. It's a horrible thing. I don't even like to think about it. It's really hard (that's what she said). But it's just so terrible and sad and I think I might cry. The worst thing about the trip is that it ended. Wah waaaaah!

*That was a trick to get you to read all the way to the end. If you skipped ahead, well . . . BRAVO, you tricky bastard.

also, I think maybe all but three of you are sick of hearing me talk about how awesome my trip to DC was (heh)

I forgot open enrollment started while I was gone (should have stayed gone) and so this is all you get today, Internets:

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME (first pet & first car): Rusty Skylark

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie): Mint Chocolate Chip Chocolate Chip (WOW)

3. YOUR "FLY Guy/Girl" NAME (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name): J-Bax

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME (favorite color, favorite animal): Blue Penguin

5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first): Baxje

6. SUPERHERO NAME ("The" + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink): The Green Tequila Shot (for the record, I don't really have a favorite drink)

7. NASCAR NAME (the first names of your grandfathers): Zeb Sheldon

8. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME (Your 5th grade teacher's last name, a major city that starts with the same letter): Wolfe West Carrollton

9. SPY NAME (your favorite season/holiday, favorite flower): Spring Lily

10. CARTOON NAME (favorite fruit, article of clothing you're wearing right now + "ie" or "y"): Apple Pantsy

11. HIPPY NAME (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree): Yogurt Redwood

12. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME ("The" + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + "Tour"): The Reading Rainbow Tour (hee!)

13. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME (middle name, city where you were born): Lynn Dayton

14. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME (mother's and father's middle names): Jo Lowell

SUPER ABSORBENCY!

OK. Here's the thing. I'm only posting because November told me I have to post every day. But I'm so tired, you guys. So tired. Possibly? I am still recovering from staying up until 6 AM on Saturday. Could be. What possible reason could we have had for staying up until 6? Well. The following:

• Watching Seth play the most amazing game of Ms. Pacman I have ever witnessed
• Tying balloon animals to fireworks
  
• Singing (loudly) along to "Don't Stop Believin" and "Sweet Caroline"
• Giving ourselves temporary Spongebob Tattoos
• Oh, and also, drinking

That last one probably explains all of the other ones. You know what? It might have been my favorite weekend ever. EVER. Even though I didn't get to poop on the White House lawn.

In conclusion, did you know that Einstein wore sandals?

That's his foot. On a statue. I know you can't see his face, but you'll just have to trust me. That's Einstein's foot. Also, his sandal. Unless he stole his sandals from someone, but I don't think he'd do that.

if you are chilly, here take my sweater

You guys.

This is Abigail.

(I have to blog for Jennie today because she blogged for me yesterday. Actually, she kind of raped the internet yesterday by guest posting for me, Heather Anne, AND Kat and she blogged for herself too.)

But here's the thing about Jennie.

a) She is hilarious. That thing about raping the internet? Her words.

b) She is a blog machine. She didn't have a computer with her on this trip so I offered her mine on Saturday morning while we enjoyed the continental breakfast at our hotel. She checked her email and the next time I looked over she had blogged. In like... five seconds! So then Heather was all, "...so wanna blog for me?" and Jennie was like, "sure, whatever, let me get some more waffles so I can prove my awesomeness by eating waffles and blogging again AT THE SAME TIME." Which she did flawlessly and then I was all, "I let you use my computer. Blog for me, bitch." It was all very dramatic.

c) So really I feel like I shouldn't have to blog for her because I just don't have The Gift that she has.

d) But she was all, "IT'S NOT THAT HARD. You just type things." So, I tried that. Here is me, typing things.

e) Oh, also, when I was sitting moaning about blogging (standard) I asked Jennie for ideas. She refused to assist because she said that defeated the point. I said that sometimes she blogged more than once a day and so clearly I was the one that needed help. And she described the things in her head and how she has to get them out. "You guys, it's like a snake bite. You have to suck out the poison."

f) Here is a photo of us together.

this city . . . is the best city . . . of all the cities

You guys, I don't want to brag, but you have never had as much fun as I have had in the past 24 hours. You just haven't. Yesterday morning, I left the cold and snow of Ohio, drove through the cold and snow of West Virginia and the cold and snow of Pennsylvania and then the cold and snow of West Virginia again and also some cold and snow of Maryland. I'm not gonna lie to you, for a while I didn't know what state I was in and when I saw the "Welcome to West Virginia" sign, I shouted, "but I thought I was already in West Virginia!" Stupid geography.

Anyway, did you know there are bears in Maryland? I didn't see any, but a sign told me to watch out for them. Because . . . BEARS!

I know you'll be surprised, but I got horribly horribly lost once I got into the city. And then I almost hit like 80 people with my cars. And then I tried to park my car and there were shenanigans because I suck at both driving and parallel parking. And after driving a million hours, I did not want to be in the car anymore so when I saw the Washington monument poking up into the sky like a giant wang, I have never been so happy to see an inappropriate monument in my life. True story.

OK, but once I got here? More fun than you've ever had. True story. Today will be more of the same. Again. Don't be jealous. One day you might have this much fun, too.

But I doubt it. Oh snap! Ha! Sorry.

Hello, Vegas? Yeah, we would like some more alcohol. And you know what else? We would like some more beers.

If all has gone as planned, I am posting this very, very early (I'm writing this Thursday night and posting it Friday morning and if that bends the NaBlow rules then SO BE IT). I should be all packed, ready to get in the car and head to DC, where I will spend the weekend with some very fun people. Actually, very fun doesn't even begin to describe them, but give me a break. It's too early (humor me, will you?) to think of better adjectives.

the turkey trot?

Trotted.

Now I am going to go eat 27 helpings of mashed potatoes.

So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Remember how yesterday I said my car smelled musty? Well, there is a definite weird smell going on in there right now. I don't know exactly what it is. But I suspect it has something to do with this:

Last week, we had an awards luncheon at work and at every awards luncheon someone wins the centerpiece at their table. And last week, I won it. Whoo. Hoo. I felt kind of bad, like I should give it to someone who wouldn't neglect it and end up killing it and possibly even throw it off the balcony to see how big of a mess it would make.

However, I can't just give away stuff that I won FOR FREE. It is totally against my evil, hoarding nature. The Universe must have had SOME REASON for me winning it, and so I carried it proudly out to my car and set it on the floor in the backseat. Then I proceeded to drive like I normally do, which is not well, and when I got home I noticed the centerpiece had fallen over and gotten the floor all wet. "Oh well," I thought, "it's just water," conveniently forgetting that it was DIRTY FLOWER WATER that had been STEWING INSIDE OF A PUMPKIN FOR HOURS.

So, yes. Apparently The Universe DID have a plan. It wanted to make my car all stinky, just in time for my eight hour drive to DC. Thank you, The Universe. I wouldn't expect anything else from you.

mahna mahna

Thank you, Heather (Nicole), for helping solve the mystery. The "phenomenon" thing came from the sketch with Sandra Bullock but I'm not posting that one because I find her annoying.

papa don't preach

This morning, I got in my car and thought it smelled sort of musty. Then I said, "Haha, MUSTY," and then I started cackling and I'm sure if anyone saw me they thought, "oh dear lord, the girl who sings Oasis songs at full volume with all the windows open has finally gone off the deep end," but no. No, I haven't. This is all my dad's fault.

BECAUSE. He has all these sayings that have become deeply embedded in my brain after 25 years. Like musty. Say he's eating a delicious peanut butter cookie. Ooh, funny story about peanut butter cookies. This one time my mom made peanut butter cookies and, since she doesn't like peanut butter (crazy), she had my dad taste test them. He tried his best to pretend they were OK but I guess they were the most disgusting cookies ever made in the history of cookies. To make a long story short (HAHAHA!), the Crisco my mom used had gone bad. My mom's words, "it's not supposed to be brown?" Hee. To be fair, my mom is a really good cook. This was a one time thing. Except for the time she tried to make bagels, but that's a story for another day.

Anyway, so say my dad is eating a peanut butter cookie. And he finishes it. He might say something like, "that cookie tasted musty," and then you'd stare blankly at him because . . . what? And then he'd say, "I MUSTY have another."

Apparently these things have a way of seeping into your brain. Which is why anytime anyone says the word "phenomenon," I sing, "PHENOMENON do do dododo PHENOMENON do do do do," and I have NO IDEA WHERE IT CAME FROM. All I know is, I heard it at least once a day for a couple years, at least. Whatever. I still hear it. In my head. It haunts my dreams.

Then there is the relatively well-known saying, "bull in a china factory." I heard this one a lot. Go figure. I'd run into something, he's shake his head, say, "you're like a bull in a china factory," and I'd yell, "THAT MAKES NO SENSE!" because I thought he was saying a BOWL in a china factory, not a BULL and I was all, "What, do they not make bowls in China? That's crazy."

By far the weirdest saying he's passed along, however, is this one: BLEE BLY BLOW THREE IN A ROW POP-CORN! I mean, you really have to hear this one to get the full effect. It's sort of a song and sort of a chant. There is no describing it, really. I have no idea where it came from. Or what it means. Or why my dad says it all the time. But I just want you all to know, that if you're making popcorn and I walk by and say, "blee bly blow three in a row POPCORN!" it's not my fault. My dad broke my brain.

Yeah, there were horses, and a man on fire, and I killed a guy with a trident.

Yesterday, I spent the majority of the morning and early afternoon arguing with myself. It went something like this:

Me: You should go running.
Me: I don't want to.
Me: But the race is on Thursday!
Me: Like skipping one day of running is going to matter.
Me: GET UP, FATTY!

So, I finally guilted myself into going running, even though it was -20 degrees outside (no, it wasn't) and all this running has made my knees age like 80 years. And while I was out running, I decided that HEY! wouldn't it be funny to run to mom and dad's house? HILARIOUS! If by hilarious you mean mildly amusing but not even. Do you find it strange that I live within running distance of my parents' house? Well, I do. Although, if Forrest Gump taught us anything, it's that ANYWHERE is within running distance. Except somewhere that's across the ocean. BUT I suppose you could build a raft and sail it across the ocean and run in place or something the whole time, but that seems a little illogical. So don't do that, OK? I don't want you to get eaten by a shark or a whale or the Loch Ness Monster. I'm just kidding. Nessie would never eat anyone. Oh my god.

ANYWAY. I ran to my parents' house to say hi and it was a huge, huge mistake. Not because I don't like seeing my parents (because, hi, my parents are awesome), but because I shouldn't have stopped. When I went back outside to run home, I so didn't want to. But I did. Sigh. Wow, good story, Jennie. TELL IT AGAIN.

This morning, when my alarm went off, the DJs were doing the weather forecast for the week. I got all excited when they started talking about a warm front coming in. SIXTY DEGREE WEATHER, PEOPLE! IN NOVEMBER! But, unfortunately, the warm front is only staying until Wednesday and it's supposed to be really cold and rainy and disgusting by Thursday morning JUST IN TIME FOR THE RACE. Now. THAT is hilarious. Caps lock off.

this is probably one of those things I should never share with the Internets

Some backstory: Heidi went on a trip or something back when we first moved in together (um, a year and a half ago) and she brought me back a tiny, tiny bottle of gin & juice. Like the size of tiny bottle that Chandler Bing likes to hold to pretend he's a giant. It's been sitting in the kitchen ever since. Also, we got tired of calling the hot guys who live in our apartment complex "Hot Guy 1" and "Hot Guy 2" so we named them Bernard and Sebastian instead.

Me: This Gin & Juice has been here forever.
Heidi: I know, I can't believe you haven't drank it.
Me: Sorry.
Heidi: I buy you a gift! Out of love! And this is the thanks I get!
Me: Fine! I'll drink it now.
Heidi: Good!
Me: Oh, wait. I can't drink it. It says on here that pregnant women shouldn't drink.
Heidi: Do you have something you want to tell me?
Me: Well. See. You weren't home one night and Sebastian and Bernard came over.
Heidi: Slut.
Me: Yeah, things got out of hand.
Heidi: I guess I'll have to drink the rest of this wine myself.
Me: No, it's OK, cause I'm getting an abortion . . . so I can totally drink wine.
Heidi: Oh my god.
Me: Yeah. I can't believe I said that.
Heidi: You bought your ticket to hell with that one.

Hugh Jackman is Wolverine. How dare he.

Clearly I have work to do, otherwise I wouldn't have spent the majority of the morning on YouTube.

Dude:

Hee:

I think I find this a lot funnier than I should:

Best. Movie. Ever.

Aww (barf):

7 - Katie

To be completely honest with you, I forgot I was doing this.

When I was in high school, I worked as a library aide at the public library. Most of the other library aides were in high school, too. Except for Katie. I want to say she was pushing 30 and she'd been working as a library aide since high school. While the rest of us tried to spend as much time as possible goofing off in the aisles, she raced like a mad(wo)man around the library with her cart, putting books away as quickly as possible. If we saw her coming, we'd either avoid eye contact or simply run the opposite direction. She was obsessed with Star Wars, Obi Wan in particular, and we gave her the nickname "Obi Gone." I don't know if she still works there because I haven't set foot in that library since I quit.

part of the 365 project

Why y'all gotta waste my flava? DAMN!

I keep forgetting I'm supposed to be posting crap to my blog every day this month. I mean, I usually do post almost every day, but now that I know I HAVE to, I'm all "DON'T TELL ME MY BUSINESS, DEVIL WOMAN!" True story. I just yelled it. No one can vouch for that, though, because I'm home alone. All alooooone.

So I had to drive all the way back to Lenscrafters today JUST to tell the eye doctor that yes, the contacts she gave me are fine. No, they do not make my eyes bleed. No, I have not run over any small children while driving with them in. You know, basically questions I could have answered over the phone. THEN she tried to convince me to order the most expensive contacts they carried and I was all, "no, no, it's OK, I've used these forever and they're fine," and she was all, "OK, but they're not as breathable, blah blah blah, maybe you should change them every two weeks instead of every month," and I was all, "BITCH PLEASE! I can make a year's worth of contacts last TWO YEARS. THAT IS HOW GREAT MY POWERS ARE!" Only, I didn't yell that. I just nodded and smiled and in my head planned to wear the contacts for at least a month and a half because what does she know? She's just a doctor.

Earlier I was thinking about that movie, Can't Hardly Wait. I don't know why. It's sort of like how I start thinking about what would happen if Indiana Jones and Han Solo got in a fight. Or how sometimes in meetings I wonder what everyone would do if I jumped on the table and started rolling around shouting curse words. Anyway, I used to really like that movie. But then I got to thinking about it and it's such bullshit. Cute little Ethan Embry is all in love with bland, big-boobed Jennifer Love Hewitt? I don't think so. He's going away to study with KURT FUCKING VONNEGUT and she? She quoted Jewel next to her yearbook photo. I rest my case.

I love you sweeeeatshirt. RED HOODED sweeeeeeeeeatshirt. DIP DIP DIP.

You guys know how sometimes I don't sleep, right? Um, well, sometimes I don't sleep. And there are some weeks where Heidi doesn't really sleep either and when these weeks collide I call it . . . well, I don't really call it anything.

But this week is one of those weeks. I bet my mom is reading this right now all "You're STILL NOT SLEEPING? I thought I told you to go to the doctor!" but I don't LIKE to go to the doctor and I feel like I've been at the doctor way too much lately. I prefer when there are years between doctor visits, not weeks. IT'S UNNATURAL AND WRONG AND I WON'T DO IT ANYMORE.

Anyway, um, what? Oh, right, not sleeping. I can tell when the not-sleeping is starting to become a problem because I start acting drunk when in reality I have not had a drop of alcohol since like . . . Tuesday. Like, last night we were watching Ugly Betty and I got really bored and on Halloween Steve left his big, giant, yellow 70's glasses at our apartment and they were sitting right next to me on the end table. So I put them on. Over my regular glasses. And then I was all, "excuse me, Heidi, I have something urgent and important to tell you" and she ripped her attention away from Ugly Betty and then she died laughing. I swear. Then she came back to life and took a picture of me in my two pairs of glasses reading some F. Scott Fitzgerald. We laughed so hard you guys. It was like the time we drank a bottle of wine and then looked at lolcats. Only we had no wine last night. None. Also, I told Heidi that someone found my blog by Googling "accidental butt sex," and then WE Googled "accidental butt sex" (I'm on page 2 of the results, btw) and it turns out this one girl really did have accidental butt sex. I won't go into details. YOU'RE WELCOME.

And then this happened:

Me: I love you sweeaaaaatSHIRT. RED HOODED sweeeeeaaaatSHIRT. DIP DIP DIP.
Heidi: Um, what are you singing?
Me: HELLO. The red-hooded sweatshirt song?
Heidi: . . .
Me: BY ADAM SANDLER.
Heidi: Oh.
Me: Oh, THAT IS IT, you need to see this.

And then we watched it. It was as awesome as I remember.

Also, last week, Heidi was just sitting on the couch reading a magazine and I was all, "who do you think would win in a fight . . . Han Solo or Indiana Jones?" and she gave me this look like . . . what? She answered and half-heartedly debated the subject for a couple of minutes, but I could tell she really wanted to go back to her magazine. I mean, I think the answer is obviously Han Solo. Indiana Jones may be handy with a whip, but Han Solo has a blaster and CHEWBACCA. So. You do the math.

And earlier today? One of our employees called me from Iraq and it was really hard to talk to him because there was a weird delay after anything either of us said. So I had him repeat his email address like 87 times and he was like "blah blah at echo echo charlie dot mil," and I almost stopped him and asked him what the hell kind of email address is blahblah@echoechocharlie.mil? But then I got what he was doing. Do you see why I need to start sleeping? Insomnia is making me stupider than I already am and I cannot function like that.

This has nothing to do with not sleeping, but you guys, I am seriously about to go crazy. This girl in my office has been listening to Christmas music for like two weeks now. I swear. And it's so loud. And one day she listened to " The 12 Pains of Christmas" on repeat for like an hour. IT'S TOO EARLY FOR CHRISTMAS MUSIC. And someone put up a tiny Christmas tree! IT'S TOO EARLY FOR CHRISTMAS TREES, I DON'T CARE HOW WEE IT IS. Do you remember that episode of Grey's Anatomy where Cristina Yang goes all Grinchy and takes that little kid's Christmas tree out of his room? And Burke got all that sand in his vagina because she didn't buy into his "spirituality" and happy Christmas bullshit? I'm totally on her side.

Surprise, surprise.

Sorry, but a toll is a toll, and a roll is a roll, and if we don't get no tolls, then we don't eat no rolls.

I thiefed this from both Kat(!) and Heather(!) Anne(!). Because I'm too lazy to write anything. So not only am I a thief, I'm a lazy thief and those are the worst thieves of all. Thief!

Comment ANONYMOUSLY! I'm not yelling at you, really, just . . . it's harder than it looks. That's what she said. Or HE said.

1. One secret.
2. One compliment.
3. One non-compliment.
4. One love note, but it does not have to be for me.
5. Lyrics to a song.
6. How old you are.
7. How long we've been friends.
8. And a hint to who you are.

I ain't good-looking but I'm someone's child

Last night, I mooched dinner off my parents for the second night in a row. I could have gone for a triple tonight, but I need to stay home and work. And by work, what I mean is sit and pretend to write while I surf the Internets and watch YouTube videos.

When I got to my parents' house, I (of course) started bugging my sister and I can't remember what we were talking about but I do know that it ended with her shouting, "fuck you!"

Mom: I'm not sure I'm OK with that. Apologize to your sister.
Sister: [blah blah yelling and indignation]
Me: Heh.

Then I followed my mom around while she straightened up the house and I . . . watched.

Me: So Dad said you guys aren't coming to watch us in the race.
Mom: When is it?
Me: Mom. It's on. Thanksgiving.
Mom: Oh, what time?
Me: 8 in the morning.
Mom: What? Fuck you!

Awesome. So my sister and my mom said "fuck you" to me in the span of two minutes. I told my mom it was all kinds of rude and her response was, "well, just be glad the dog can't talk."

My mom had a uterus. I lived in it.

Now is the time on Long Story Short when we watch clips from my YouTube favorites. Shut up and enjoy it already.

And also:

And then:

Another one:

AND FINALLY:

That was like a peek inside my brain. Sorry.

i am doomd

I'm pretty sure I wrote notes just like this at church when I was little.

Heh.

and my head, i'd be scratchin while my thoughts were busy hatchin, if i only had a brain

So I had today off, thanks to the many, many veterans. Thank you, veterans. I mean it for reals.

Earlier, I was sitting around in my pajamas, unshowered and disgusting, working on how to articles and mindlessly surfing the Internets when my mom called. She and my dad were over at my grandma's. So I went over there and we sat around and talked and I showed them all funny Youtube videos and we went through all these piles of stuff my grandma had everywhere and I found a coupon that expired in 1995. Did you HEAR THAT? 1995! So I made my dad hang it on the fridge. Because . . . I don't know why. It's not even the oldest thing on the fridge, but whatever.

Then we ordered Chinese food. It was so good, you guys. SO GOOD. Anyway, at the end, my parents and grandma opened their fortune cookies (I was still eating my food because I am the slowest eater in the whole world . . . true story, ask Heidi) and then when I opened mine? It was the same fortune as my mom's. And there was an extra cookie, so I opened it and it was the same fortune as my dad's! I got totally screwed! UNFAIR! Then my grandma was all "you don't have a fortune, Jennie," like HAHA very funny my life sucks.

Anyway. So that happened. I really love three day weekends, but it makes it really hard to go back to work. Sometimes I really wish I was a trophy wife so I could sit at home all day, reading by the pool and drinking wine. True story.

Michael, 5K means five kilometers, not five thousand miles.

The other day, Heidi and I were watching live TV, which doesn't happen very often because we TiVo everything. Not like, everything in the whole world, but like everything that we watch. You know? YOU know.

Anyway, so this meant we saw commercials. Which hardly ever happens. And there was this one commercial where this kid is playing in a pool and it starts raining and his mom or dad (don't remember which and NOT IMPORTANT) comes out and is all, "get inside, Timmy, before the lightening gets you." I may be embellishing. And then this lady comes on and is all . . . 1 in every 150,000 people is struck by lightening. BUT one in every 150 children will be diagnosed with autism. And I was all . . . what? I mean, I sort of get what they were trying to say. Like, your kid probably won't get struck by lightening but he might get autism. OK. But what's with just comparing random statistics like that? It's like, um, 1 in every 150,000 people will have accidental butt sex but 1 in every 150 people will eat mediocre ice cream this year. Yeah, I realize I'm not proving my point very well, but what you DON'T know is . . . I don't care.

Anyway, so Heidi and I tried to go running earlier. We were going to go up to the track at the high school, because it's flat and made of rubber and doesn't make my shins want to fall off. When we left, it had started raining but we decided to drive up to the high school anyway. Because . . . we thought that like five miles away it wouldn't be raining? OK. But it was. And then we saw lightening.

Heidi: Uh oh, lightening.
Me: Well, don't worry. You're much more likely to come down with autism than get struck by lightening.

We didn't end up running outside because we decided that we didn't feel like getting struck by lightening today. We went to the gym instead and ran on the treadmill. And I didn't fall off and hurt myself. And we avoided getting struck by lightening. So it's been a pretty good day, I guess.

Can you tell me why you have been so sad?

Heidi and I are about to go attempt to run (slash walk, heh) 5 miles in preparation for the Turkey Trot EVEN THOUGH it's Sunday and Sundays are made for sitting around in your pajamas. We're so dedicated. Yeesh. It's been raining all morning. I am still full of pancakes and coffee. I hope we live through this endeavor.

Godspeed, Internets.

I wish the world was flat like the old days, then I could travel just by folding a map

Today is the first day of a three day weekend, meaning I only have to work four days next week, three days the following week, then it's off to DC for a long weekend.

All I've done so far today is listen to a lot of Death Cab and work on the crappy story I started writing. Although, I have showered so I feel like I've accomplished all I really need to today. Plus, I got a giant book of Fitzgerald short stories from the library and it's calling my name. For real. It's all, "Jeeeeenniiiiieeee, come reeeeeeaaaad meeeeee." It's a little weird. And way scary.

Man, this sucks. Sorry, Internets, I'm just not in a very "Hootie" place right now.

So. Um. Here's a video. One of my friends in college had a bunch of Stuart videos on her computer and I'd be lying if I told you we didn't all watch them at least once a day.

We accept the reality of the world with which we are presented.

When I was younger, I almost always believed that things I saw in movies could happen in real life. I tried to fly by thinking happy thoughts. After I saw Beetlejuice, I drew a door on the side of our house with sidewalk chalk and was very disappointed when I knocked three times and nothing happened. I thought ET and Gremlins were real. I thought Oz and Never-Neverland were real places. Mary Poppins made me believe that I could fly home from school using only my umbrella, or dive into a sidewalk chalk drawing, or that I could clean my room by snapping my fingers (this may explain why my room was always such a mess), or that maybe, just maybe, one day my horse would hop off the merry-go-round.

Maybe this is why, at the age of 16, I walked out of The Truman Show absolutely CONVINCED that my life was being broadcast for the entire world to see. I skulked through the parking lot, eyeing the streetlights suspiciously, sure that there were cameras hidden in them.

It probably also explains why I still tell my sister that I attended Hogwarts and the only reason she doesn't remember is because I used the Obliviate spell on her. The thing is, though? Hogwarts IS a real place. Or at least it will be. So don't try and tell me I can never go to Oz because I WON'T BELIEVE YOU. All I need is a tornado, a tiny dog, and a slight concussion.

story of my life

After work, I went to Jiffy Lube because my car needed an oil change. Duh. It's not like I go hang out at Jiffy Lube just for the hell of it. And you know, their name is right on, because they lubed my car SO FAST. True story.

Anyway, when I got home, I checked the mail like always and as I was flipping through all the crap, I noticed a little postcard that said "$15 OFF" and underneath it said "SIGNATURE OIL CHANGE," and I was all WTF, why does God hate me?

You're probably going to wonder how I wind up talking about chipmunks by the end of this. I wish I could explain it. But I cannot.

A couple weeks ago, my boss mentioned that we'd be making a training tool for people to use during Open Enrollment this year. Everyone has to enroll online, even if they're not changing their benefits OR THEY GET NOTHING. Apparently this is a problem for some people because they don't know how to read or click buttons or something, hence the training tool. Basically, it takes them through each enrollment screen and points where they need to click and highlights important information and puts blinking red lights next to things they're NOT supposed to click. While it takes them through each screen, someone reads all the instructions to them in a calm, soothing manner so they don't get too excited and their heads don't explode from all the thinking.

That someone is me. When my boss initially brought up the idea of this training tool, she said that someone would probably need to do the voiceover. No one really volunteered, but we all joked around that we'd hold auditions and stage an American Idol-style competition to pick the lucky winner. Then no one said anything about it for like a week and so I forgot about it. Until last week, when my boss asked me if I'd be comfortable doing the voiceover, because of my "pleasant voice and good diction." Heh, DICtion. Anyway, since there is nothing I love more in this world than the sound of my own voice, I agreed.

So earlier this week, I spent about an hour in the conference room with one of the IT guys, speaking slowly into a tiny microphone. Seriously, you guys, this microphone was hilarious. It was on a little microphone stand, but it was like . . . chipmunk sized. Like a chipmunk could use it to sing his indie rock songs. Not Alvin & the Chipmunks, though, because I always got the impression that they were bigger than normal chipmunks. What's that about? Were they like radioactive chipmunks? Or did Dave feed them human growth hormone or something? Chipmunk growth hormone? Anyone?

be more constructive with your feedback

Heh.

The big brain am winning again! I am the greetest! Mwahahaha! Now I am leaving Earth for no raisin!

Last night, because of a combination of annoying/bitchy coworkers and flu shots, Heidi and I decided we didn't feel like going running. Or cooking dinner. Or not drinking wine. So Heidi stopped for wine, I stopped for Papa Murphy's (oh my god, thin crust veggie pizza . . . so good, you guys, I'm not even lying ONE LITTLE BIT), and we both immediately changed into pajamas when we got home. Then we watched like 18 hours of TV (not really).

At some point, we both realized that it's really nice to just come home and do nothing. Screw this working out business! Only not really, because the race? It is 15 days away. That is not so many. So I said, "hey, why don't we get up early tomorrow and go running before work," half hoping that Heidi would say, "hey, why don't you go fuck yourself, crazy person!" But she didn't! So last night, I set my alarm for 5:23 (I don't know) and this morning when it went off, I actually got up immediately, put on my running clothes, brushed my teeth, and ate a banana. And then we went running. The sun wasn't even up yet. And I didn't die! Which is sort of what I always thought might happen if I tried to go running that early. Like, my body would kill me for dragging it out of bed before it needed to be awake and THEN MAKING IT EXERCISE.

The bad part is, I can't use this excuse anymore: If I go running before work, I will be incredibly, incredibly tired once I get there and then I'll be absolutely WORTHLESS, more so than usual.

Because here's the thing. I'm not any sleepier than I normally am. In fact, I think I may have been more productive than usual this morning. This is bad. I fear that soon I will be one of those people who likes to work out and eats more fruit than candy and doesn't drink and gets up at the asscrack of dawn on the weekends FOR NO RAISIN. If that happens, will one of you stage an intervention? Because, seriously, I don't want to know that girl. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like her.

You are RUINING moving day for us!

I woke up a big, bitter, angry anger ball this morning. I was angry that I had to get out of bed, I was angry that it was cold outside, and I was especially angry about the giant pimple on my forehead.

It was because of the giant pimple, who I have named Isaac, that I parted my hair on the opposite side this morning. I thought if my bangs hung over the other side of my forehead, Isaac would have something to hide behind. It didn't really work, though. And all my foolish attempts to cover Isaac up with makeup only angered him. Sigh.

Then I got to work and remembered that it's flu shot day. I mean, sure, I guess getting poked in the arm with a sharp needle is not the best way to start the day, but at least things can only get better from that point, right? Well, usually I'd say WRONG YOU'RE SO WRONG SHUT UP YOU'RE WRONG.

Oh, but THEN. THEN I remembered that I get to vote today. I love voting. Even though we don't get to stab the cardboard ballots with the little stabby things anymore. I loved the little stabby things. I think the real reason they went to electronic voting is because they got tired of hearing me yell, "Stab! Stab! Stabby stabby stab stab!" and then cackling maniacally. APPARENTLY it disturbs the other voters.

Just because we have chiseled abs and stunning features, it doesn't mean that we too can't not die in a freak gasoline fight accident.

Heidi and I often joke about how accident prone we both are. At any given time, one of us has at least a couple of bruises. Usually it's me. I think I hurt myself more often, but when Heidi hurts herself SHE HURTS HERSELF. Like last April? She was at a Reds game and after the game went running across the street, tripped over her flip flops or something, and fell face first and hit her chin on the curb. I was out of town, but I got a voicemail later that night from her and, because of all The Party in the background, pretty much all I could make out was, "BAX! BAAAAAX! I FELL DOWN! I FELL DOOOOOOOOWN!" I listened to it again, hung up and started laughing.

Person I Was With*: What was that?
Me: Heidi fell down? And hurt herself?
PIWW: Um. Do you need to call her back?
Me: Nah, she sounded drunk and happy, I think she's OK.

And since we both get hurt a lot, it leads to a lot of conversations like this:

Me: Ow.
Heidi: What happened?
Me: Nothing, I just stabbed myself in the lip with my car key.
Heidi: I would say that surprises me, but it totally doesn't.

And also this, while roasting marshmallows on Saturday:**

Heidi: Ooh, my marshmallow is done!
[flaming marshmallow melts too fast and falls off poker, onto Heidi's leg]
Me: Um, you're on fire.

See? We're so used to these accidents by now that not even Heidi SETTING HERSELF ON FIRE causes me to blink an eye. It's really only a matter of time before one of us drowns in the toilet, while the other one just stands there all, "um, you're totally drowning right now," and then walks away to make a PB&J sandwich.

So, yes, we both get hurt a lot. I'm sort of surprised that neither of us has blown up the apartment or set it on fire or accidentally blasted a hole in the wall. Although, on our first night living there I did throw a coaster at someone (drunk) and it dented the wall, but apart from all the appliances we've broken, that's the worst damage we've done. So far.

*no, I'm not telling you who, Internets, because I do like to have some secrets . . . mwaahaahaa!
**that's right MARSHMALLOWS!

Is it because he's always correcting people's grammar? "Whom! Whom!" Sometimes it's who!

I went to the eye doctor yesterday, because I haven't been in . . . oh, two years? At least. Also, I lost my last pair of contacts back in January. ACTUALLY, I lost them on New Years Eve Eve, but that's a long story and I'm trying to keep this short. Get it? GET IT? Anyway, so I've just been wearing my glasses or nothing since then. My eyesight isn't that bad. Just bad enough that I need glasses to drive. Or like, during meetings and stuff when I want to see the computer screen if someone is doing a power point presentation or something else equally lame and boring. I mean exciting. Totally exciting. I love my job.

The reason I finally made an appointment was because A) it's almost the end of the year and I wanted to get new glasses and contacts before open enrollment so I don't have to get vision insurance next year B) I wasn't wearing my glasses for reading or at the computer because it made my eyes feel funny so I thought maybe my prescription had gotten worse and C) I am vain and was tired of wearing my glasses all the time.

My first mistake was making the appointment at the LensCrafters in the mall, but I didn't know it was in the mall when I made the appointment. I thought it was just BY the mall, so I called them before my appointment to find out where by the mall they were, because it turns out there's a lot of shit down there.

Me: Hi, I have an appointment this afternoon and I know you're down by the mall but I'm not sure exactly where.
LensCrafters Lady: Um, we're by Elder-Beerman.
Me: . . .
LL: Across from Walden Books on the first floor.
Me: Oh, you're INSIDE THE MALL.
LL: Yes.
Me: Oh! OK, I'm so glad I called.

So they already knew I was stupid, which is good because it saved me time once I got there from making an ass of myself in another way BUT THAT DIDN'T STOP ME! HAHAHA!

Once I sat there for a while and filled out some paperwork, a technician took me back for "pre-screening." She asked me a bunch of questions, like if I ever had dry eyes or headaches and if I read a lot (um, you could say that) or if I spent a lot of time on the computer (um, you could say that) or liked to poke myself repeatedly in the eye with a sharp object. Then she asked if I had any hobbies.

Me: Oh! I just started running.
Her: Um. But no hobbies that really affect your eyes?
Me: Oh! Well, not unless I fall down on a stick or something.
Her: OK, moving along . . .

But what she DOESN'T know is that it's extremely likely that I might fall down and impale my eye on a stick. Sure, it hasn't happened yet, but it COULD.

Then the doctor came in and did the whole "is 1 better? or 2? 3 . . . or 4?" I hate those tests. I mean, there's no wrong answer but I'm always afraid I'm going to say the wrong thing. Like she's messing with me and really 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 are all the exact same thing and she goes back and says, "Ha! I got another one," to the other doctors who are all hanging out in the doctor break room. Then I got in trouble for cheating during the peripheral vision test. She told me to look into her eye and tell her when I saw her fingers on either side of my face and whenever I'd see her hand starting to move I'd look over at it and she'd be all "Jennie! Stop cheating!" I wasn't doing it on purpose though. If I see a hand coming up on the side of my face, I assume it's there to slap me or something so I just wanted to be ready to duck or cry or call for help.

Anyway, it turns out that the reason wearing my glasses was making my eyes feel funny is because my eyesight has actually gotten better. It's a Christmas miracle! Only it's November. So it's a Thanksgiving miracle!

I am not proud of what you are about to read

I am very gullible. Which is why I believed my dad when he told me that there were such things as a Vulcans and that they have black blood. I'm also very open to suggestion. Which is why I'm not allowed to look at WebMD anymore. I am also slightly crazy, which is why the other day I looked up Asperger's syndrome because I thought I might have it.

I am not making this up. I'm blaming it on my extreme suggestibility, because Heidi and I have been watching America's Next Top Model and there is a girl with Asperger's on there. And basically all I knew about Asperger's was that it's a mild form of autism and nothing Asperger's Girl was doing on the show struck me as all that odd. So she wanted to write in her journal rather than hang out with all those catty bitches? Um, who wouldn't? Now is maybe a good time to mention that once in high school I wondered if I WAS mildly autistic, because my psychology teacher told us that people with autism don't like distractions and, IN FACT, cannot concentrate if someone so much as taps their pencil repeatedly. I was all, "OH SHIT," because I had just turned around and bitched at the girl behind me for having her feet on the back of my chair because it was causing a mild tremor all the way up to my desk.

Also, there were all those repeated viewings of Rainman.

So, OK, I thought I had Asperger's for a while. But then I looked it up on Wacko-pedia (thank you, Heather) and realized that I do not, in fact, suffer from any sort of autism, mild or otherwise. Although, here are some of the symptoms that hit a little too close to home:

Dislike any changes in routines. (No, seriously, I don't even like changing what I eat on a daily basis)

Have unusual facial expressions or postures. (OK, cause sometimes I'm just sitting there and I realize I have some crazy expression on my face FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER)

Talk a lot, usually about a favorite subject. One-sided conversations are common. Internal thoughts are often verbalized. (Hi, welcome to my blog)

Have delayed motor development. (I fall down a lot)

But, aside from all that, I realize that it's ridiculous to have even entertained the thought that I have Asperger's. Clearly, this is all Tyra's fault.

Although, I'm still not convinced that I don't have Mad Cow Disease.

the world around us makes me feel so small

Writing is hard, so I stole this from Kat! instead.

You're supposed to pick a band or an artist and answer the questions with their song titles. I picked Oasis (other bands considered: The Shins, Weezer, Journey). So there.

Are you male or female? The Girl in the Dirty Shirt
Describe yourself: I Hope, I Think, I Know
How do some people feel about you? Born on a Different Cloud
How do you feel about yourself? Where Did It All Go Wrong?
Describe your ex: Cast No Shadow
Describe your current significant other: Keep the Dream Alive
Describe where you want to be: Half the World Away
Describe how you live: Roll With It
Describe how you love: Stop Crying Your Heart Out
What would you ask for if you had just one wish? Cigarettes and Alcohol
Share a few words of wisdom: Don't Look Back in Anger
Now say goodbye: Slide Away

Now you do it. It's fun. I promise.

We're doomed! DOOOOOOMED!

Yesterday, I'm pretty sure the head of IT told me I looked like a lesbian. Which is weird, because I identify way more with gay men than with lesbians. Why, just the other day I told Heidi that I was sort of worried that the reason I love (love is actually not a strong enough word) David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs so much is because on the inside I am maybe a gay man. Which I guess is fine. I mean, no one has to KNOW that on the inside I'm a gay man. And it doesn't really affect who I go on dates (who am I kidding?) with so I guess I don't need to worry about it. Anyway, here is a video starring my very favorite gay man ever. Yes, he's fictional, but all my favorite people are.

It's close to midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark

Did you know today is Halloween? Well, it is. I realize how you could get confused. I mean, I already celebrated it over the weekend. And for some reason Beggars Night was last night instead of tonight. Heidi informs me that it's because some people go to church on Wednesdays. Well, let's see here. Do you think the people who don't want to miss church on Wednesdays are the same people who are going to be trick-or-treating?

Last night, I mooched dinner off my parents and helped them pass out candy to all the tiny children. It was funny, because they took the windows out of the screen door so it was all open and every time kids would come up to the door, Ripley (the dog) would poke her head out and stick her nose into their buckets. Some of the kids were like, "eh, whatever, a dog GIMME CANDY," but other kids were all, "OH UNHOLY BEAST! REMOVE THY NOSE FROM MY PILE OF CANDY OR I SHALL CRY AND FALL DOWN AND MAYBE POO A LITTLE IN MY PANTS."

We were allowed to dress up today at work, and yesterday I came up with a BRILLIANT idea for a costume. I was going to wear my devil horns and tail and carry around my pitchfork and write "PRADA" on a shirt. Get it? GET IT? The Devil Wears Prada? Only, by the time we got home last night, after passing out candy and going to the gym, I didn't feel like getting it all together. So INSTEAD I am wearing Heidi's Peyton Manning jersey (she offered me her Bengals jersey, but if my dad found out I was wearing a Bengals jersey, he'd disown me) and jeans. See, it's better because we don't have casual Fridays so we're never allowed to wear jeans and so this is my way of rebelling. DAMN THE MAN.

BONUS: Conversation with my roommate . . .

Heidi: Here's my jersey.
Me: Thanks!
Heidi: No problem.
Me: Heidi?
Heidi: Yes?
Me: Peyton Manning is the quarterback, right?
Heidi: Sigh. Yes.

So apparently I agreed to do this thing where I post something to my blog every day in November. Why I agreed to do this, I have no idea. Maybe I was drunk. Anyway, I need to come up with a plan so I'm not posting crap like this every day. So I don't know why I'm wasting all this time talking to YOU people. That is all.

I don't know what I'm up against, I don't know what it's all about, I've got so much to think about HEEEEEYYYYYY

Scary movies watched over the weekend: Stir of Echoes, parts of The Exorcist, part of Halloween, part of Children of the Corn, and Dawn of the Dead, but I fell asleep before it ended.

Can you believe I fell asleep during a ZOMBIE movie? Me neither. Normally, I'm cowered under a blanket or behind a pillow, but I was crazy tired. Which is like the most tired of all the tireds you can be. It's true. I read it in a science book. Ha! Like I read science books.

The reason I was so tired was because we had walked around the Oregon District's Hauntfest for a couple of hours. And it was freezing and we drank some beer and that didn't really help with the freezing because we didn't drink enough of the beer and there was so much going on that I think I got overstimulated on account of all the people in funny costumes and the movies playing on the street and the bands and the circus performers swinging on ropes or something and that is why I was so tired.

Heidi and I spent a pretty long time in Goodwill on Friday night searching for our Three's Company costumes (we found terrycloth clothing YOU GUYS IT WAS SO AWESOME), and yet once we got downtown I felt like I hadn't even dressed up. Oh well. We all still looked pretty good. See:

Come and knock on our door, INDEED.

Anyway, once we got home, we drank beer and played Mario Kart (Super Nintendo version OH SNAP) but it didn't take long for Heidi and I to get tired of Steve kicking our asses so we quit. Seriously, it was embarrasing. I suck at video games and it makes my thumbs hurt to play because I press too hard and I swing the controller all around like THAT'S gonna help. Sigh. Anyway, then we watched Dawn of the Dead and all fell asleep and now the story has come full circle so you'd think I'd quit talking now but you'd be wrong.

On Sunday, Heidi and I made pumpkins. Well, we bought pumpkins and massacred them. See:

And we ended up with this:

Mine is the one on the left. I like it because it reminds me of the snowmen that Calvin (of & Hobbes) would make and slaughter in various ways. Do you think Hobbes was gay? Oh never mind, didn't he have a crush on Susie Derkins? Or do you think he only had a crush on Susie Derkins because Calvin secretly loved her? And don't tell me Calvin didn't secretly love her, because why else would he have started G.R.O.S.S. (Get Rid Of Slimy girlS)? DENIAL. THAT'S WHY. Yeah, I definitely should have quit talking before now.

I'm running out of Shins lyrics

Oh, blog. I wish I could quit you.

You're a bitch, I'm a seven.

This morning was the first morning all week that I have not been awakened to the sound of two cats chasing each other around the apartment, yowling and hissing. The past couple days, Phoebe and Bo have started fighting about an hour and a half before my alarm goes off. You know, so it's enough time that I wake up and then can't really fall back to sleep for long enough to matter. I'm not sure you can call what they do fighting, though. Because they don't bite or claw each other (neither has front claws anyway), they just chase each other around and give each other dirty looks and make ugly noises. OK, this is mostly on Phoebe's part because she is a heinous bitch cat from hell. She's just mean. FOR NO RAISIN! Bo just wants to be loved. And loved hard. Seriously. You can pet this cat SO HARD and he loves it. It's weird. He likes it rough, what can I say?

If they're not fighting, then Bo is making this horrible strangled-baby noise at like 3 AM. Why? It's the worst noise I have ever heard in my life. I hope he doesn't do it while Heidi and I are at work, otherwise our neighbors are going to call the police and tell them we've been leaving our baby home alone all day. Which is nonsense. I leave the baby in my car in the parking lot at work all day. Don't worry, I leave the trunk open a little so it gets some fresh air. I just called my baby "it." I keep doing that. The other day, this lady brought her baby in and I was telling Heidi about it and I was all, "There was this baby . . . it was cute, guess, but when I saw it I was like, what's it doing here?" and then she asked why I was calling the baby an It. I DON'T KNOW. It was a boy baby. I don't know its name, though.

What I'm trying to say is, I've been tired pretty much all week. You'd think I'd just get up the first time they wake me up, but instead I lie in bed WIDE AWAKE waiting for my alarm to go off. And then I hit snooze a couple of times. Here is a timeline:

5:18 - Cats fight on bed. Pull the covers over head to protect face.
5:45 - Phoebe takes massive dump and digs around in her litter box for like ten minutes.
6:27 - The strangled baby noises start again. They will haunt me forever.
6:30 - Heidi's alarm goes off. Church bells. Can hear them through two doors and a wall.
6:45 - My alarm goes off. Hit snooze.
6:52 - Alarm goes off again. Hit snooze.
6:59 - Alarm goes off again. Begrudgingly get out of bed.
7:00 - Brush teeth. Multi-task by feeding cat and checking email (what?) while brushing teeth. Get toothpaste all over shirt.
7:03 - Shower. Space out and forget whether I conditioned hair.
7:14 - Stand in my closet in my towel trying to figure out what to wear. Pull out first appropriate clothes I see.
7:20 - Apply lotion, deodorant, etc. Dry hair.
7:33 - Plug in hair straightener. Put on make up. Straighten hair.
7:40 - Get dressed.
7:43 - Search room frantically for shoes.
7:44 - Search room frantically for glasses.
7:45 - Grab breakfast from kitchen.
7:46 - Leave apartment.

Fascinating, yes? I'm not sure why I did that. Filler, I guess. Aaaaanyway.

Yesterday, I came home from work and saw that the sliding shelf thingie on my desk that holds my keyboard had magically fallen on the floor, knocking the keyboard and mouse and speakers and modem and router all over the place. I don't know how the hell they managed to dislodge this drawer and make such a mess, but kudos to them! I wasn't mad. I was more impressed that they'd managed to do it. They don't even have opposable thumbs. Maybe they were all strung out on whatever pills were lying around the apartment. Although, I don't know what Heidi has lying around her room, but the only pills I have in mine are birth control and ibuprofen. Also, Ecstasy.

That's a lie. I'm sorry. I don't know why I do that. I guess I just want you guys to like me and pills = love, right? That's what my parents always told me.

No, they didn't. That's a lie. I'm sorry. OK, time to stop talking.

oh baby pleeeeeeeeease . . . give a little respect . . . toooo-ooooo MEEEEEEE

The other night, I decided to Tim Gunn my closet. Tim Gunn is like Stacy and Clinton put together, only nicer and way gayer. I wish Tim Gunn was my uncle so he could tell me what to wear ALL THE TIME. Because I need that much help, people. Left to my own devices, I have one of two uniforms:

1. t-shirt, jeans, flip-flops
2. long-sleeved old navy shirt, jeans, tennis shoes

Uncle Tim would make me wear skirts! And dresses! And fancy underwear! Which, OK, that'd be a little weird. Actually, on his show, Tim Gunn doesn't help pick out the fancy underwear, Veronica does. Because not even Tim Gunn is that gay. Or women's underwear makes him uncomfortable. Or both.

Anyway, so I cleaned out my closet and now have a huge stack of clothes to give to Goodwill. Some of the clothes? I don't know why I was holding onto them. First of all, a lot of them were far too big. Second of all, I found stuff that I never even knew I had. Like this one shirt? It is the ugliest, most heinous shirt I have ever seen IN ALL MY YEARS. I'm pretty sure it was a gift because I would never spend money on something like this. It was saved from Goodwill, though, at least for a couple of days because it might be perfect for my Halloween costume. Thanks, Tim Gunn!

So now I just have to work on collecting Tim Gunn's 10 essentials, WHICH ARE:

1. Basic black dress (check!)
2. Trench coat (no check)
3. Classic dress pants (check!)
4. White shirt (check, but I don't like it and it doesn't look very good on me, so UNCHECK)
5. Jeans (oh, CHECK)
6. Cashmere sweater (are you kidding?)
7. Skirt (eh)
8. Day dress (yeah right)
9. Blazer (check!)
10. Sweat suit alternative (who even still buys sweat suits?)

I think Tim Gunn and I differ a lot on what constitutes a sweat suit alternative. Because a lot of the time these women end up wearing a dress as a sweat suit alternative. Um, what? No. Would you wear a dress to go grocery shopping? Or take out the trash? Or give your dog a bath? I hope not. Otherwise, you've got bigger problems than the fact that you own a SWEAT SUIT.

Okay, Kitty Kat. This feels BORDERLINE inappropriate.

I am catsitting my aunt and uncle's cat again, and before my aunt came over, just in case my cousins were with her, I went through the apartment to make sure there was nothing out that maybe they shouldn't see. I don't know what exactly I was expecting to find, but a lot of my friends had been over the day before and god only knows what they might have written on the fridge. Turns out, the only slightly inappropriate thing on the fridge was this:

and I was the one who put it there. Not sure if you can see it, but it says "Hello, my fellow Americans. I am a douchebag," at the bottom. My cousins may already be familiar with the word "douchebag," but if they're not, I really think their parents should be the ones to tell them.

take me, take me to the riot

It didn't take us long to decide what bar to go to Friday night. We went to BoJangles because we thought there'd be karaoke. There was not, unfortunately, but the DJ was playing fairly good music so we stayed. We got some beer, Steve bought shots (thanks, Steve) and then I made a tower out of shot glasses and an empty pitcher and it fell over and one of the shot glasses broke.

I don't remember who said this: Did you break that shot glass?
Me: Yes.
IDRWST: How?
Me: I was making a tower.
IDRWST: Why?
Me: . . . I dunno.

Then, to get rid of the evidence, I threw the broken shot glass away in the bathroom. I thought this would be the biggest mishap of the evening, but THEN my parents decided to stop by and that's when all hell broke loose.

Hokay. So. If the bouncers hadn't stepped in, this would have been the statement I gave the police, because I'm pretty sure someone would have gotten their ass kicked or thrown in jail:

Slutty Girl who had been dancing like a stripper all night approaches our table. She asks my dad what time it is, but she has her cell phone out.

Mom: Just look at your phone.
Slutty Girl: [indecipherable screeching and yelling at my mom]
Mom: Go away!

Slutty Girl yells more. Mom yells more. I start yelling. Slutty Girl starts waving finger around in Mom's face. Mom gets up. Slutty Girl shoves Mom. I stand up and approach Slutty Girl, put my hand on her chest and push her back.

Me: That's my mom!
Slutty Girl: [more screeching]

Slutty Girl pushes me. Mary gets up. Mary pushes Slutty Girl. Dad grabs my arm and tells me to sit down. I do not.

Slutty Girl to Mary: I'm gonna kick your ass!
Mary: Bring it on, bitch!*

Bouncers break in and push Slutty Girl toward the door. Mary follows. I try and follow Mary, but another bouncer grabs my arm and won't let me.

Me: Let me go, that's my friend.
Bouncer: It's OK, they're kicking that girl out.
Me: . . . I just want to go over there.
Bouncer: No.
Me: But . . .
Bouncer: No.

Bouncers kick Slutty Girl and her (slutty) friend out of the bar. Victory! Later, Slutty Girl and her friend try to come back into the bar and are immediately kicked out again. As she was leaving (again!), she pointed at our table all "I am going to slash your tires or your throat, I'M NOT SURE WHICH YET," and later, as the bar was closing, a bouncer came over and told us that Slutty Girl was waiting outside for us. We had a shot, stood around talking about what a moron she was because THERE WERE SIX OF US and also the bouncers and also some HUGE tall guy we were suddenly friends with. But when we went outside, she was gone. Too bad. We were ready. I mean, Kate had even taken her rings off so Slutty Girl's face wouldn't break them.

So . . . I think that's mostly how it happened. It escalated quickly because THAT BITCH WAS CRAZY. I think I dropped more f-bombs than I've ever dropped, especially in front of my parents. Also, at some point Slutty Girl's friend tried to swing at my mom, but my mom caught her fist and wouldn't let go.

Moral of the story: Do not fuck with my mom. Also? DO NOT ask my dad what time it is.

*this phrase was repeated A LOT over the course of the weekend

your liver pays dearly now for youthful magic moments

I'm sort of OK with work completely sucking the life out of me today, because I get to see some of my favorite people in the world this weekend and if work needs to almost kill me, that's fine. As long as I am still a little alive at the end of the day.

Mary and Janna are driving in from the faraway lands of Chicago and Michigan and once they arrive, I fully expect insanity to start raining from the sky. Or something. They are crazy. Especially Janna. I mean this in a good way. I may not live for the weekend. Or maybe just my liver might not live through the weekend. Although my liver has survived worse. Probably.

Last night, even though Heidi had a traumatic experience with Red Lobster (long story) and I had a belly full of Penn Station, we went running and I seriously wanted to die at the end. The only reason I decided not to die was because we hadn't watched Ugly Betty or The Office yet. Then Henry and Dwight went and broke my shriveled little heart into itty bitty pieces and I wanted to die again.

Speaking of Penn Station (Nice segue, Jennie. Why thank you, Jennie), I told Heidi that we're not allowed to go there for at least a month because last night I went without her and the boy at the cash register asked me where my sidekick was. Another boy there knows both of our names. So. Yeah. It's time to give Penn Station a rest for a while. And now I want to die again. But only a little because I need to be sort of alive for this weekend. And now we have come full circle. DUN DUN DUUUUUN! I don't know.

Discovered by the Germans in 1904, they named it San Diego, which of course in German means a whale's vagina.

I don't know why, but I have been super productive lately. It's like I don't even know who I am anymore. Yesterday, on my lunch break, instead of staring at the Internet for an hour ( which is what I normally do), I wrote an article, balanced my checkbook, and went to the bank, CVS and the gas station. ALL IN AN HOUR. I know you're impressed, don't pretend you're not.

And last night, once I got home from work, I did two TWO! loads of laundry, wrote an article, cleaned my bathroom, changed the shower curtain liner, vacuumed my bedroom and took out the trash. NOW who is impressed?

I feel like I had more to say but now I can't remember what any of it was. Oh well.

Here's something. Every time I'm about to go running, I get Tiffany's "I Think We're Alone Now," stuck in my head because of when she's all, "running just as fast as we can . . . holding onto one another's hands . . . trying to get away, into the night, and then you put your arms around me as we tumble to the ground and then you say . . . I THINK WE'RE ALONE NOW, there doesn't seem to be anyone around." I will have you know I didn't have to look up any of those lyrics. Impressed?

COME ON! What do I have to do to impress you people? Jerks.

So you want to hear how I almost pantsed myself in the apartment complex parking lot? Too bad. Well, I have this pair of gym shorts that I wear all the time. I don't know why I still wear them because they are far, far too big. They barely stay up. But they're so comfortable. So I went outside to take the trash out and I had to put the trash down so I could lock the door behind me. Here is why I had to lock the door: the dumpster is behind our building so I can't see our door the entire time, and I'm always paranoid that if I leave it unlocked, some miscreant (not a zombie, though, because they are not smart enough to think of these kinds of shenanigans) is going to run into our apartment and hide somewhere (like UNDER MY BED!) until I come back in and then he'll ATTACK ME WHEN I'M LEAST EXPECTING IT. You can tell me this is completely irrational, and you wouldn't be wrong, but Heidi thinks the same thing so at least I'm not alone in my irrationality. So. Anyway. As I put the trash down so I could lock the door, some pokey thing sticking out of the trash bag got snagged on my shorts and pulled them down. Not all the way. Just like one butt cheek. Also I was wearing underwear. And it was dark outside on account of all the nighttime in the air.

I bet you're at impressed now. Sure, maybe you're only impressed with how stupid I am, but I'll take it.

4 - Tim

Tim was my driving instructor. At our first lesson, we were approaching a red light and I asked if I should stop. True story. After I passed my driving test (first time, dammit), my mom told me that Tim had told my parents he thought I'd have to take the test a couple of times before I passed. Guess I proved that asshole wrong.

part of the 365 project

i luvs the internets

http://the816.com/the_office/

3 - Dee

Dee babysat me until I was in kindergarten. She was an older lady with dark hair. She always made me drink cranberry juice, even though I hated it. One time she yelled at me for coloring outside the lines in one of her granddaughter's coloring books. I don't think she liked me very much. I still hate cranberry juice.

part of the 365 project

I'm not so good with the advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?

Whenever someone is stupid enough to ask for my advice or, and this is the more likely scenario, I offer it unsolicited, I usually follow it up with, "but what the hell do I know?" because seriously?

WHAT THE HELL DO I KNOW*?

*enough to know I don't know much

just give the old dark side a try

I am not proud of this, but for the past three nights I've been in bed before 10 PM. Around 9:30, I give up on doing anything productive, put on my pajamas, crawl under the covers with a book and am asleep within the hour. Not restful sleep. Sleep full of dreams so vivid that I wake up wondering where I am, having been ripped away from somewhere else entirely, somewhere I'd rather stay, to be honest.

On Monday, I half-heartedly declared it WORST. DAY. EVER. Week, but my heart's not in it. Not even half my heart. Too many not-worst things have happened; good news from the doctor, secret projects, friends making plans to come visit. It's not a shitty week, really. It's just blah enough to make me wish it was over.

2 - Claire

I was in Indian Princesses with my dad when I was a kid and we'd go on two campouts a year. One year, our cabin was nestled farther back in the woods than all the others and in the dark you could barely see it, even if the porch light was on. My friend Claire and I got up one night to steal toilet paper from the bathroom (to TP other cabins later, you see) and when we were done, we couldn't find our cabin. The light wasn't on because someone (I think Claire's dad, actually) was sleeping on the porch. We split up, I found the cabin and went inside. A couple of minutes later, I heard Claire outside shout-whispering, "Jennie? JENNIE? DAAAAAAAD?" I think she eventually found her way in. Who knows, though? Maybe she's still be out there, wandering around the woods with an armful of toilet paper.

part of the 365 project

1 - David C.

When I was in 5th grade, George Bush (senior) was running for reelection and he came to Dayton. A bunch of classes from our school went to see him and we had to stand outside for hours before he showed up. Either the bathrooms were closed or none of the chaperons wanted to take anyone to use them. For whatever reason, we weren't allowed to go to the bathroom. This kid David started complaining that he had to pee. One of the teachers tried to get him to pee in this plastic garbage bag (the fuck?) but instead he peed his pants. The next day at recess, I made fun of him for it and he punched me in the face. You'd think that would have taught me a lesson, but he was wearing these giant, padded gloves so it didn't really hurt.

part of the 365 project

Please take the chairs away. I don't like them. The big one is staring at me and that short one is being very droll.

How is it Monday again? Wasn't it just Monday last week at this time? Why does this keep happening? WHY?

It was a good weekend, although I did absolutely nothing productive. On Friday, Heidi and I watched Knocked Up and a bunch of episodes of Ugly Betty and got drunk off of four beers. WTF? I'm ashamed of myself.

We were all good on Saturday and went to the library and then we decided that since it was such a nice day we shouldn't waste it because it's Ohio and soon the weather will be so shitty that I will want to cry, cry, cry all day long. True story. So we went to the Nature Reserve and accidentally ended up hiking 3 miles.

Later that night, Steve came over and we all went to this bar. I think it might be a good one. We've only been twice but it's been fun both times. Let's break it down, shall we?

PROS:

$4 pitchers of beer
good food
lots of tables
buffalo head on wall

CONS:

only one Oasis song on the jukebox (Lyla)

I think the $4 pitchers win. Somehow we ended up polishing off a good four of them and also a Washington Apple. We also poured some money into the jukebox, took a cab home ($6!!!), and lit something on fire and threw it into the pond. What? It was for HEIDI!!! I think she found it very cathartic. Am I right, Heidi? Then we called Heidi's brother and told him we were lost in Kalamazoo. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? (I totally stole that from someone).

Also, at this bar, when I was coming back from the bathroom some guy told me I was hot. I was really flattered until I realized he was the same guy who had been shouting so loudly along to Say it Ain't So* that I could HEAR HIM IN THE BATHROOM. Seriously, it sounded like he was in the stall next to me. Still, it was flattering, even though he was clearly so shitfaced that he thought it would be a good idea to ruin a Weezer song for the entire bar.

All I managed to do yesterday was watch more Ugly Betty and mooch dinner off of my parents. So . . . yeah. Good times.

*I have absolutely no idea if that is a link to the right video because I can't watch Youtube right now because Big Brother is watching.

I'm feeling very Debbie Downer-y today.

I've decided to do this 365 thing, where you make a list of 365 people who have affected your life in some way and you write a set number of words about them. You're supposed to say that you'll write like . . . 50 words per person but if I put that kind of restriction on myself, I will quit ASAP so I'm going to write however many damn words per person I want. SO THERE! I figured since I don't have anything else to write about, I might as well do this. Wah wah waaaah. Aaanyway, I haven't finished my list yet because I'm not sure I know the names of 365 people, but I'm going to start writing them later. Why not? It's not like I'll finish this project anyway.

WAH WAH WAAAAAAAAAH!

OK, I'll stop.

I know this is weird because we work together, and because up until and possibly including now, I’ve repulsed you, but I like you.

You guys want to hear something really crazy? I mean, it's really, really, REALLY crazy.

Last night. Heidi and I went to Target. And I bought . . . NOTHING. Not one thing. Not even more $1 spot crap. I mean, sure, at one point I was holding both a DVD (Sense & Sensibility . . . $5.50!) and a CD (Iron & Wine . . . $9.99!) but I guilted myself into putting them down. Because it doesn't matter how incredibly cheap they both were, I DON'T NEED THEM. Whatever. That's $15.49 more I have to spend in DC, right? Right. Bah. Being responsible sucks hardcore.

So earlier this week it was like 90 degrees. I am not exaggerating. Monday was effing hot. So hot, that after my doctor's appointment I went to the library to get some movies (because they're free there) and I sat on the sofa all day watching them. Because it was 600 degrees in our apartment. No joke. I checked the thermostat and that's what it said.

Clearly, since it was 90 degrees on Monday, it makes perfect sense that on Wednesday it was only like 55. I mean, that makes total sense, right? I came home from work and all of our windows were still open and our apartment was FREEZING. OK, the thermostat said it was like 62 degrees, but it felt freezing. Why is it that 62 degrees feels so good when you're outside but when you're inside it makes you feel like your toes are going to fall off? Anyway, so it's fall now. Awesome. I'm glad it's no longer so hot outside that after I finish getting ready in the morning, I need another shower, but why the drastic change? We had one day where it was beautiful and sunny and 70 degrees. ONE DAY. Although, since this is Ohio, I suppose I should be glad we got even one day. Oh my god, I have been talking about the weather for a looooong time now. Stop. Seriously.

Did you know they make Halloween cards now? They do. Why? Because card companies are greedy. Also? Suddenly everyone has those giant inflatable pumpkin decorations in their lawn. Heidi and I saw about a million of them last night when we went running. True story.

Remember how last Halloween I fucked around so long with deciding what costume I wanted that I ended up having to go as a slutty devil? WELL NOT THIS YEAR. Because Heidi, Steve and I are going as Three's Company. Not the show itself, but the people. You know what I mean. If you know what we all look like, it makes perfect sense. PERFECT. Try not to get too excited. I know we are MIND-BLOWINGLY AWESOME but don't worry, one day you can be mind-blowingly awesome, too.