QUESTION

I can't remember if I took cold medicine ten minutes ago or if I just THOUGHT about taking cold medicine ten minutes ago (you might think this absentmindedness is a result of the cold medicine but you'd be wrong) so now I am stuck with quite a dilemma. Do I wait another four hours to take medicine and risk becoming a plugged-up-hacking-sniffling-snot factory? Or do I just take some more medicine now and risk even more absentmindedness/that head-floating-ten-feet-above-me feeling/lapsing into a coma at my desk?

You know how I know you're gay? Because you macramed yourself a pair of jean shorts.

You know, I love having plans on the weekend and I love hanging out with my friends, but I always end up paying for it on Monday morning. Like today? For instance. My entire body still hurts from sleeping half of Saturday night on a hardwood floor. And when I say sleeping, I mean changing positions every five minutes to try and fine one that would allow me to, I don't know, actually fall asleep? ALSO, I have a cold, probably from wandering around downtown Columbus Saturday night in the frigid, frigid air, but I also wore heels all night and DID NOT fall down or even trip (OK, I might have tripped once) so I'm calling that a wash. I also have Kathleen-Turner-man-voice as a result of the cold and also yelling over both a band and a DJ on Saturday.

Here is my favorite snapshot of the weekend:

Me: Nick*, where do you come up with this stuff?
Heidi: He spends all day writing it down in his diary, remember?
Nick: It's true.
Me: Is your name cross-stitched on the cover?
Nick: Of course.
Heidi: And I bet he writes in it with one of those pink pens with the feathers on the end.
Me: And it says "Princess" down the side of it.
Steve: And there's a compartment in the back for his cross-stitching materials.

Oh, and also?

Nick: Bax**, can you fit this glass in your purse?
Me: Is that a dare?
Nick: No.
Me: Why do you want it?
Nick: Um, because it has the Bengals logo on it?
Me: Oh, OK.

*Roommate's Boyfriend
**One of the many names I answer to

I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints -- the sinners are much more fun

Something about the way my shoes sound on the linoleum in the office breakroom reminds me of being in church. The clack clack clack of the heels takes me back to that time when I wasn't such a heathen, when I went to church every Sunday, sometimes even being given the responsibility of carrying a tall candle to light the other candles on the alter, trying not to trip on my way up the aisle over the long white robe, my eyes shooting upward, not toward Heaven, oh no, but never leaving that flickering flame because if it went out I'd have to travel all the way to the back of the church to relight it, every congregant's eyes on me instead of their hymnal, my face flaming.

I don't know where that came from.

I recently bought some new body wash, not realizing until this morning that it was the same scent I'd used on spring break in college, that year we went camping and every day we'd drive to a different beach. After a long day of lying in the sun and passing out from the heat, and then waking up long enough to dip ourselves in the ocean, we'd come back to the campground, which was littered with senior citizens and their motor homes, our tent being one of a handful scattered across the lot. We'd jump in the pool to wash off the salt and sand that still stubbornly clung to our skin and then ease into the hot tub to take the sting out of our sunburn. Later, we'd visit the only bathroom on site to shower away the chlorine and any rogue pieces of sand. And this morning as I closed my eyes and took in that familiar scent I could almost imagine I was back in Florida and that, just as soon as I was dried off and dressed, I'd be walking that long path back to our site, kicking gravel out of my flip flops as I went, to eat, drink, and be merry (but mostly drink and be merry) and maybe even fit in a little sleep before another exhausting day of beach living.

Yeah, I don't know where that came from, either.

I'm sorry, do you have some prior commitment? Some hideous skirt convention you have to go to?

So, it too me a month to get around to this but IN MY DEFENSE it was a busy month, OK? OK.

I had a really hard time coming up with this list, mostly because I have had this blog for eleventy billion years now and there's not much I haven't already written about (and then repeated twelve times) but anyway here it is . . .

Five Things You May Not Know About Me:

1. I am an excellent whistler, as is my father, much to the chagrin of my mother. I think she was secretly ecstatic when I finally moved out because that meant there was only one crazed whistler left in the house.
2. Despite evidence to the contrary, if you were with me when I'm alone in the car I would more than likely be listening to the oldies station. Although, if you were with me when I'm alone in the car I wouldn't be alone in the car in which case I probably wouldn't be listening to the oldies station. Did you hear that? That was my mind blowing.
3. When I was little, I used to hear the term "bull in a china shop" a lot from my dad (I've always been clumsy). However, for years (YEARS!), I thought my dad was saying I was like a BOWL in a china shop and I could never figure out what was so weird about a bowl in a china shop. There are lots of bowls in a china shop, right? Right.
4. I am the oldest of the grandkids on both sides of my family so not only did this mean I had more than my fill of babysitting jobs but it also means I am incredibly, incredibly bossy.
5. I'm really bad about returning phone calls and answering my cell phone in general, so I'm pretty much the last person you want to call in an emergency. Actually, this would probably be true even if I did answer my cell phone.

I was going to tell you that I spend most of my awake time, free or otherwise, daydreaming but I figured you all already knew that.

Also, I'm supposed to pick five people to do this list, too, but I am THROWING THAT RULE OUT and telling all of you to do it. That's right, DO IT NOW. DANCE, MONKEYS, DANCE!

See, I told you I was bossy.

Oh, that's great. I wrote a hit play and directed it, so I'm not sweating it either.

Does anyone else make themselves live by completely arbitrary rules? I do, if only to give my life the appearance of order. Like, say, on the weekends? If I wake up after 11:30, I'm not allowed to have coffee. Because, in my mind (scary place), coffee time is over at 11:30. Well, really, it's because if I wake up at 11:30, by the time I roll out of bed, brush my teeth, and get around to actually making said coffee, it's already after noon by the time the coffee is done. And I just don't drink coffee after noon. No, I don't know why.

Along the same lines, I also don't let myself eat lunch before noon. I don't care if I didn't eat the day before and I'm starving and my stomach is growling so loud that a small child just ran away screaming because he thought a tiny cheetah was going to burst forth from my insides, I make myself wait until the clock says 12:01. It's kind of like when I babysat my cousins all summer . . . they'd never want to eat breakfast so by the time 10:30 rolled around they were ready for lunch. Well, since I was a Lunch Nazi I'd make them wait until at least 11 because SERIOUSLY? You cannot eat lunch at 10:30. NO. FREAKING. WAY. This meant that around 10:45 each day I'd start hearing, "Jennie, can we eat lunch? Pleeeeaaaase?" and I'd say no and so they'd sit in front of the clock and the minute it was 11 I'd be ushered into the kitchen by two hungry and irate children. I didn't and DON'T care. Eating lunch before 11 is abnormal and I think their parents would agree with me. Also, for some reason my younger cousin never wanted to get dressed. I don't really blame him, because who DOESN'T like to spend all day in their pajamas? But I don't think my aunt would have been too happy to come home at 3 o'clock and find him sprawled out on the sofa in his Superman underwear watching Step by Step. For several reasons. ANYWAY.

Right, so other arbitrary rules include: no getting back into bed after showering in the morning (because I WILL fall back to sleep), no water after 10 PM (I have a tiny bladder NO SERIOUSLY like minuscule), no using my credit card for charges under $10, oh and also, no beer before liquor. That is the most important one.

I know it's strange to make up silly rules for myself, but trust me when I say, it feels so SO good to break them.

Tom Sawyer, you tricked me. This is less fun than previously indicated. Let this corny slice of Americana be your tomb for all eternity.

Last night, I had the shortest Conversation with My Roommate EVER!

Heidi: Are you watching the president?
Me: Yes.
Heidi: Why?
Me: Because I hate myself.

except maybe for this!

Me: What are you making for lunch?
Heidi: . . .
Me: . . .
Heidi: . . .
Me: So . . . Wendy's?
Heidi: I'll get my coat.

And for good measure, A Conversation With My Coworker!

Coworker: That patient in there works for the FBI.
Me: No way!
Coworker: Yep.
Me: Do you think he has a gun?
Coworker: Um, I don't know.
Me: Oh my god, seriously, do you think he does?
Coworker: I don't know, I didn't pat him down.
Me: Does he have a badge?
Coworker: Well, Jennie, I'm sure he DOES have a --
Me: Did he take it out all, "FBI! EFF. BEE. EYYYYYYE."
Coworker: No.
Me: I wonder if the FBI is like The X-Files.
Coworker: I seriously doubt it.
Me: Oh my god, I wonder if he has a gun!
Coworker: Um.
Me: Do you think he'd let me hold it?
Coworker: God, I hope not.

and also!

Me: That patient just asked me to mapquest something for him.
Coworker: Rude.
Me: I know, do I look like goddamn Triple A?
Coworker: Not really.
Me: Does he want a trip tick, too? I mean, I'm not doing anything else.

and finally!

Me: My stomach hurts. I can't tell if I'm hungry or nauseous.
Coworker: Maybe you're pregnant.
Me: That's not funny!
Coworker: Then why are you laughing?
Me: . . . I don't know.
Coworker: You're not, are you?
Me: No!
Coworker: That's good.
Me: Tell me about it. Anyway, my mom taught my sister and I all about birth control.
Coworker: That's a relief.
Me: Are you saying I shouldn't have kids?
Coworker: Well . . .
Me: Hey!
Coworker: Jennie?
Me: Point taken.

AND FINALLY, Things My Friends Will Never Let Me Live Down (with good reason):

That time I (drunkenly) danced with an old (and I'm talking OLD) man*

That time I (drunkenly) fell down in the McDonald's parking lot and wouldn't get up*

That time I (drunkenly) tried to break into someone's condo*

the phrase "bang out," although why that phrase** hasn't caught on yet, I DON'T KNOW

Bowtie Guy (who, I will point out ONCE AGAIN, did not have a bowtie)

That time I almost killed us taking that turn in Chicago

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

OK, that's enough.

*these all happened the same night
**I did not invent this phrase

Defining The Crazy: Dream Edition

You guys, I'm seriously starting to worry about my brain. OK, so last night I dreamt that I was in a tornado and we all went to this big room in some building to sit through the storm. And who do I see sitting across from me but President George W. Douche, I mean, Bush. At first I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't stop talking so I started arguing with him about Iraq and the troops and how Barack Obama would (HANDS DOWN) kick his ass at Trivial Pursuit and then he stormed out of the room and when he came back? He was wearing Scooby Doo pajama pants with his shirt, tie, and suit jacket and he came and stood in front of me and started yelling at me and saying I was mean so I started yelling at him and told him not to be childish and finally he sat down next to me and sighed, "I am NOT childish," and I said, "Really, George? Because Scooby Doo would beg to differ."

PS: My mom left the perviest comment EVER on this blog. And all I have to say is . . . I'm sorry if she offended your delicate sensibilities. I thought I raised her better than that.

when's it my turn? wouldn't I love, love to explore that shore up above? out of the sea, wish I could be, part of that world

So, according to MSN, today was apparently the most depressing day of 2007. Congratulations on making it through! Yay! The rest of the year is going to HANDS DOWN KICK TODAY'S ASS!

I am a little ashamed to admit this (no, I'm not) but tonight's dinner included conversation topics such as: the nickname of Heidi's boyfriend's roommate's girlfriend which I will never ever in a million years share on any blog my parents read, ALSO stabbing small children with a steak knife, ALSO drowning babies, ALSO pooping in library books, ALSO changing diapers at a booth in a restaurant, and that's all I'm sharing. Because I can't remember the rest. No, I totally can, but again . . . there are some things I am not sharing on a blog my parents read. And all my aunts and uncles. Sorry, rest of you.

After dinner, Heidi and I decided to do pilates. Only, we didn't do the easy pilates we normally do, we did the loooong one. And now I want to die. DIE. One day I'm going to sit down and write down all the dirty things Mari Windsor says. And I'm not even talking about some of the names of the exercises, such as The Corkscrew, Hip Preparation, The Jackknife, The Teaser, and The Open Leg Rocker which, as we were rocking back and forth holding our ankles, caused Heidi to matter-of-factly state, "there are so many things wrong with this picture." And there WERE. There's also this exercise called The Mermaid and you would not believe the strange looks Heidi gave me when I started singing "Part of Their World" because apparently SOMEONE didn't spend their entire childhood watching The Little Mermaid over and over. Anyway, I just hope our apartment complex doesn't employ a dirty, pervy maintenance worker who secretly videotapes all the female residents. Although if he does . . . well, I think I have worse things to worry about than secret videotapes of me doing pilates.

let's go away for a while, you and I, to a strange and distant land

Sometimes I think the reason I like Weezer so much has less to do with the music and more to do with my affinity for nerdy, bespectacled, dark-haired boys.

But don't tell anyone.

We're not in infinity, we're in the suburbs.

I was going to go somewhere today but then it snowed and ruined my plans. That's right, snow! I woke up (the first time) and watched some TV in bed and as I was flipping channels I noticed they were already listing closings. Of what, I don't know, since it's Sunday. Churches? OK. Anyway, that didn't affect me so I went back to sleep while Spongebob Fancypants frolicked in an air bubble with Sandy Cheeks. It was intense and hard to sleep, though, because Spongebob was drying up because there wasn't any water, but he was too polite to say anything so he just walked around with his pinky in the air. Because that is what fancy people do. It's true, I read it somewhere. Maybe on the Internets and everyone knows the Internets never lies.

Also, I was going to take a picture of the snow, because even though I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns (which, ironically, would melt the snow in less than .5 seconds), it is sort of pretty, but then I realized taking a good picture would mean I had to go on the balcony, and it's cold out there, so I'd have to put on some socks and something other than a t-shirt and that means I'd have to move myself from this chair so . . . basically, you will not be seeing a picture of the pretty, hated snow right now. Sorry.

I have a sad tale for you. It turns out my mom and I do NOT have jury duty on the same day so that ruins our (my) plan to carpool and dress in matching outfits and have her buy me lunch. She read her date wrong and she's actually supposed to be getting HER call on the day I have to go downtown. Sucks. Now I won't have anyone to talk to. On the other hand, now I can skulk (I love that word) around for a Fancy, Rich Lawyer so I have about two weeks to work on that plan. Any suggestions?

OK, so yesterday I continued the Jason Schwartzman Love Fest and watched I Heart Huckabees and the whole time I watched it I had to keep asking myself, "Am I high right now? Seriously. Did I get high and not remember? No, I'm not high. Oh my god, I'm totally high right now." I wasn't, though. I just think it was a really weird movie. Unless one of my neighbors was pumping something funny through the vents. And if that's the case, I just wish they'd warn me in advance.

it doesn't look like much when you put it all together

I've been meaning to post this for a while now (um, like say at the end of last year?) but I kept forgetting. Meaning I'd remember and then think, "I'll do it later," knowing FULL WELL I would NOT do it later because later I'd be watching old Tivo'ed episodes of America's Next Top Model. Anyway, I don't know why in God's name you'd WANT to read all of this but if for some reason you're really bored and you've finished the rest of the Internet, I hereby present . . . My 2006 Wrap-Up. Yeah, I think it needs a better title, too.

Things I did this year:

built a fort in my living room
got in a shredder standoff
reminded myself that I'm not in college anymore
got freaked the hell out thanks to my mom
watched football
went bra shopping
made family members cry
got hit on at work
wrote a lot about nothing
went to Chicago
went a little crazy with the P&P obsession
moved
gained a roommate
vowed to change my hairstyle
turned 24
told a boy I liked him and got shot down
went to Chicago again and walked in on people having sex
fell into a men's room
did not get dooced
became a finalist in a writing contest
and then lost
went to the zoo
snuck into a pool
got pulled over (but no ticket, whoo!)
squashed lesbian rumors
posted a fake ad on Craigslist
realized Heidi and I are not very good cooks
went to a Reds game
judged a small child
posted a real ad on Craigslist
got free tickets (thanks again, Uncle John! also, Aunt Beth, thank you for not wanting to go to the concert so I could go instead!)
saw a horrifying image in a Walmart parking lot
met some (fake?) pimps
had a lot of conversations with my roommate
seriously
a lot
went to Oktoberfest and generally made of my ass of myself ALL. DAY. LONG.
read a lot
dressed up in a (lame) costume to celebrate Halloween; said costume apparently altered my personality for one night only
voted
went to the doctor
babysat
had a weak moment
pretended to be someone else
met a random person from the internet, arranged by a different random person from the internet (thanks, kat)
finished Christmas shopping early, proving that hell has frozen over
was a Grinch
got a new bed

Things I did not do this year:

get arrested
get eaten by coyotes
get pregnant
get married
swear off alcohol
spill all of my secrets on this blog (score!)

So, I'd say this year was a winner.

He’s always up in my bid-ness. Which is ebonics for “being in my face and annoying the bejesus out of me.”

Last night, Grey's Anatomy made Heidi and I cry like little girlie men. Stupid show! Making me cry! Damn you! Then, we decided to do Pilates because we fell off the wagon yesterday, and we laughed hysterically through the first five minutes of it. I don't know why, but it's really hard to concentrate on your breathing when you're laughing so hard it feels like your face is going to drip off onto the ground. Have you ever laughed that hard? I highly recommend it. Anyway, I wondered how we could go straight from crying to hysterical laughter and Heidi said it was because we're cold-hearted bitches. Good to know.

These are things that annoy me today:

• When I start telling a story and someone says, "Oh, I already read about that on your blog." So, not only am I running out of things to talk about on here, I'm running out of things to talk about in real life. Good to know.
• Cold weather.
• Seriously, cold weather. I hate wearing a coat. So today? Even though it is snowing? I wore a fleece vest. And gloves! The gloves totally make up for the no coat.
• When people don't change the jug on the water cooler at work. I am a tiny, weak, little girl! And yet I'm the one who always changes it BY MYSELF.
• We were out of yogurt, so I had to have a stinky granola bar for breakfast.
• People who say "irregardless," but really that annoys me every day.

Things that make me happy today:

• It's Friday.
• Coffee.
• I'm alone at work.
• Seriously, it's Friday.
• I heard this song on the way to work this morning. PS: Enjoy that video.
• Did I mention it's Friday?

Tonight, Heidi and I are going over to Stiffie's for dinner and drinks. The last time we did this, several bottles of wine were killed in the process and I called Heidi's boyfriend and pretended to be the pope. Because her boyfriend is Catholic? I don't know. Anyway, aren't you jealous that I have a friend named Stiffie? You should be. Although, that is not her real name. Wouldn't it be amazing if it were, though? What if she was President! President Stiffie LastName! Wow. I'll have to talk to her about that tonight. I'll let you know how it goes because I'm sure you're dying, JUST DYING, to know.

and all the girlies say I'm pretty fly for a white guy

So, this might surprise a lot of my long-time readers (all five of you) and most of the people who know me in real life (um . . . the rest of you), but I am like the nicest person alive when I'm at work. I think it's because I'm getting paid to be nice. I find it easier to smile if someone is giving me money for it. Maybe easier is the wrong word. Anyway, so at work I'm totally nice and a model employee. This comes in handy when I have to deal with some of the assholes who come into our office. Did I say assholes? I meant patients (no, I didn't).

However, we do have some people that come in that are nicer for free (!) than I'd be for a hundred million dollars. So, I feel like I have to be extra nice to them. This one lady came in yesterday and gave me a box of chocolate JUST BECAUSE I'M NICE TO HER and also a card that says nicer things about me than I deserve. Thank you, nice lady! This is better than the time that little girl gave me a picture of Dora The Explorer! I also get to have conversations with nice, tiny children that go something like this:

Tiny Child: Guess how old I am?
Me: Seventeen?
Tiny Child: Nooooo.
Me: Fifty-eight?
Tiny Child: Nooo!
Me: One and a half?
Tiny Child: No!
Me: OK, how old are you?
Tiny Child: This many!
Me: Four fingers?! Wow!
Tiny Child: I know.

OK. Why does Phoebe always wait to poo in her litter box until I get home from work? And then she doesn't cover it up (why, CAT, why???) and it's not like cat poo smells like roses. It doesn't. It smells like human poo, only worse.

You guys know how I got called for jury duty? Heh, duty. Well, I was talking to my mom today and it turns out SHE got called for jury duty the same day I did. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "No! Way! Jennie, what forces of the universe had to collide to bring forth this inconceivable turn of events?" And I say to you this! Seriously? How the hell should I know? I know not of how possible jurors are chosen, all I know is that I AM THE CHOSEN ONE.

Also, so is my mom.

Anyway, I'm glad I'll at least have someone to talk to, but my mom being there does lower the chances of me meeting my soulmate, aka Rich, Fancy Lawyer Who Will Buy Me Things. Seriously. I need a sugar daddy (not the candy) in the worst way.

Conversations With My Roommate: Jake Gyllenhaal edition

During the Golden Globes

Me: Ooh, Jake Gyllenhaal!
Heidi: Yay!
Me: Hilary Swank needs to get her gross vagina away from him.
Heidi: Gross vagina?
Me: You heard me.

Me: I like Maggie Gyllenhaal.
Heidi: Me too. She was really good in Stranger Than Fiction.
Me: I'm going to write her a letter.
Heidi: You should.
Me: "Dear Maggie, your brother is hot."
Heidi: "Could you please introduce me?"
Me: "Because I would like to hit that."

Me: Oh, Jake Gyllenhaal, I wish I could quit you.
Heidi: Haha.
Me: Not really, though.

you and me baby ain't nothing but mammals

There's this new radio station that comes out of Cincinnati or Fairfield or Giant Jesus, I'm not sure, called The Sound. And I want to have its babies. I'm not even kidding. This past weekend they were playing Top 10 Lists from listeners and they played, I shit you not, Ring of Fire. That is enough to buy my love forever and ever. If you want me to have your babies, I'm pretty easy. Ring of Fire. That is all.

Ring of Fire aside, I would love this station anyway because it sounds like every mix tape I ever made in high school but NOT ONLY THAT it also sounds like what a mix tape I might make now would sound like. You know, if the mp3 player hadn't totally axe murdered the mix tape. Poor mix tape.

Yesterday, on the way to work, I heard . . . wait for it, The Bad Touch. I have such mixed feelings about this song. On the one hand, it reminds me of these two girls in college who made up an entire choreographed dance to it. I would try to describe it to you, but words fail me. I wish Youtube had been around back then because they would have been ALL. OVER IT. ON THE OTHER HAND. Caps lock off. On the other hand, that song also reminds me of Scary Larry, who I worked with in high school at the local library and who asked my friend Sarah if I wanted to do it with him like they do on the Discovery Channel. When Sarah told me this, I believe my exact words were, "What the fuck? Wait . . . no, really, what the fuck?" Eloquent, I know but what would YOU have said to that? SERIOUSLY, who says that? That is beyond borderline inappropriate and topped all of the other creepy things he ever said TO MY FACE, like the time he told me I reminded him of the Virgin Mary or when he asked if I liked snake handling. I believe my response to that last one was, "Seriously? Keep your snake away from me."

Abraham Lincoln once said, if you’re a racist, I will attack you with the North.

People kept asking me if I have today off and every time they did all I could think was, "why do people keep asking me that?" Because, no, I do not have today off. If you do? I don't want to hear about it. Although, to the dear people of Dayton, at least I can take pleasure in the fact that it is RAINING on your day off. I'm sorry, that was mean. I'll try to be nicer (no, I won't).

I really wish it would stop raining, though. Yesterday, I tried to trade someone the internet for the sun but he wouldn't go for it unless I threw in a little something more than the internet. I still think it's a fair trade! Both bring joy and allow for hours of entertainment. Also, I don't remember the last time I saw the sun so really . . . come on. Think of someone else for a change and GIVE ME THE SUN. All this rain makes me want to nap constantly, something I have no problem with but I doubt my boss would like it if I curled up under my desk and slept all afternoon.

Speaking of napping, have I mentioned how much I love my new bed? Because I do. Love. It. I wish I could spend all day in it, but again, something tells me my boss wouldn't like it if I called in sleepy. Some weekend mornings? I'll get up and brush my teeth and check my e-mail and wander around the apartment trying not to trip over Phoebe, and then I'll look over at my bed, the covers still sleep-tussled, and I'll think, "hmm, that looks nice . . . I think I shall lie down for a moment to collect my thoughts." And so I'll flop down face first in a pile of comforter and when I wake up it's suddenly one in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas. But technically, since I'd already gotten up and brushed my teeth, it's not like I was just getting out of bed at one. It was a catnap that totally snuck up on me and you can't fight those!

SPEAKING of sleeping . . . I couldn't last night. Well, I mean I slept a little. I stayed up too late reading and then riiiiiight as I was on the cusp of sleep, my cell phone made that little, trilling noise that means I got a text message and I couldn't just NOT read it. That's crazy talk! So I read it, considered responding, realized that would be a lot of work, and then fell into a crazy, crazy dreamland. Seriously. These dreams were IN. SANE. I don't want to talk about it because I feel like you all already suspect that I am crazy, but telling you about these dreams would just prove it to you. I SWEAR. Oh, and also? I think Heidi and I have officially been living together for too long because she told me she had a zombie nightmare the other night. Which means I have passed along my zombie-phobia. Which is a totally logical phobia because zombies are scary. Seriously.

Dear Internets, did you have a good weekend? Mine was fantastic. I did nothing. Except I did a load of laundry. And went to the library. And read almost a whole book (yay, maybe I am no longer borderline retarded!). AND I showered both days, even though yesterday I showered and then immediately put my pajamas back on. Whatever. I also watched about a million movies, including but not limited to: Someone Like You (eh), Syriana (The Clooney!), Dead Poets Society (see previous entry), Steel Magnolias (shut up), Under the Tuscan Sun (Marcello!), and Shopgirl. OK, and I had really low expectations for Shopgirl (don't ask me why I rented it, then) but I loved it. LOVED IT. I have such a nerd girl crush on Jason Schwartzman; I don't know why. It is inexplicable. THAT WHICH CANNOT BE EXPLAINED.

I have obviously run out of things to say, so I'm just going to back away slowly. Bye.

Defining The Crazy or Why I Prefer Comedies

Do you ever want to cry about something, but you know crying about it would be stupid and dramatic? And you're OK with being stupid because you're used to it, but the dramatic part makes even YOU roll your eyes, so you don't even want to imagine telling someone ELSE why you're crying. So, instead, you put a sad movie in so when Ethan Hawke stands on his desk at the end of the movie all "O Captain My Captain," at least you have an excuse for being a sobbing, blubbering mess.

Just me? OK, then.

oh, and also? help

Dear Internets and people smarter than me, I kind of sort of made this resolution that's gone unsaid until now, that I'd read more this year. For some reason, I haven't been reading as much as I used to (this means I'm reading one book at a time, if that . . . sad) and I fear it is making me borderline retarded. SO. I started a reading list (about five minutes ago also? how much do I love lists? a lot) and, although there are about a million books I would like to read, it's not very long. Here's what I have so far:



See? It's kind of a sad, short list. Please help me expand it. Also, if there's anything on there you think I can do without reading (Hemingway, go with Hemingway!), let me know and I won't waste my time.

Help me, Internets. You're my only hope.*

*God, I love saying that**
**nerd alert

That's right, I stepped up! She's my friend and she needed help! If I had too, I'd pee on any one of you!

Last night, as he often does, my boss handed me a 20 dollar bill and said, "thank you for staying late." I've never worked for anyone who just randomly hands out cash for doing what I'm already being paid to do. I'm not gonna lie to you, sometimes when he hands me a wad of bills, I kind of feel like a whore. OR I feel like what a whore must feel like, since I don't REALLY know what it feels like to be a whore, never having accepted money for sexual favors. Mom and Dad, aren't you proud?

As he handed me the money, he said, "Jennie. Don't. Drink." Either I have been running my mouth at work too much or he has found this blog. I'm hoping it's the former, because if it's the latter I'm going to have to shut this blog down and start a new, secret one and really that just sounds like an awful lot of work and we all know how I feel about that.

Anyway, after work, I called my roommate to see when she'd be home.

Me: Hey, are you home?
Heidi: No, but I'm on my way.
Me: OK, Boss's Name gave me $20 as I was leaving tonight.
Heidi: Nice!
Me: Yeah, he just said not to drink with it.
Heidi: Why?
Me: I don't know.
Heidi: Hmm.
Me: So, I'm going to Kroger to buy a bottle of wine. Are you in?
Heidi: Yeah!
Me: Good. I didn't really want to drink alone, but I totally would have.

So, Heidi and I drank some wine and watched Friends (season 4), then did pilates*, and then drank more wine and watched a really mediocre movie that is only saved by the overwhelming dreaminess that is Mr. Hugh Jackman. I mean, seriously. Check it out.

*For future reference, it is not a good idea to do pilates after drinking wine. It will only make you extra giggly when Mari Windsor says, "reach around."

And where it asks you to state your business, he wrote, “Beeswax Not Yours, Inc.”

GUYS, I forgot my snack pack this morning. TRAGEDY! I love snack packs! Gimme my snack pack! Sorry. I get cranky when I don't get my snack pack. I bet you didn't know I had so much in common with Billy Madison. I also see a giant penguin when I'm drunk. True story. No, it's not. I'm sorry. I don't know why I lie for no reason. Other than it's fun.

Yesterday at work, I made the international sign for "jerk off." AT WORK. In front of coworkers, but not patients, so it was OK. But still. Inappropriate. My appropriateness button is broken, and it has led me to say the following things in the past couple weeks:

Did he touch you where you pee?
If you have too many kids and can't afford them all, you can always drown a couple in the bathtub.
and
Too bad you can't drink at work. Unless you're a prostitute.

I don't know what's wrong with my brain. Do you? Probably not. Thanks for all your help, JERK. Sorry, that was the no-snack-pack talking.

So, Heidi and I started this project on Monday called Operation Fat Whore, No More. We made a daily chart where we write W for workout (not President Douche) and NJ for no junk food. So far this week is full of W's and NJ's. I'm pretty proud of us. Usually by Thursday we're all, "fuck this, let's go to Penn Station," but we've been holding strong. We actually cooked dinner last night. Does cooking with a George Foreman count? I think so. You know what's weird? When you eat an actual meal instead of, like, chips & salsa and a cookie for dinner, you don't get hungry an hour after. Crazy.

As for the working out, we've been doing these Pilates DVDs that Heidi has. They're like torture. This bitch Mari Windsor tells you what to do and yet, SHE'S not doing any of it. And she puts you in the most awkward positions possible. Like, I started wondering the other night as I was on my back, throwing my legs behind my head, if I might have broken my neck. Because the human body is not meant to bend that way. Anyway, last night was the first night Heidi and I did Pilates together, and I'm just not sure that's going to work. You see, if Mari tells me to grab my ankles or reach around and I'm by myself, I might giggle a little but if HEIDI is there, then I feel the need to make a stupid comment or at least Beavis, "reach around, heh heh," and I just don't think that is beneficial. To anyone. I mean, last night Mari made some comment (I don't remember what) that led to Heidi and I talking about someone having testes on their face and that is just not an image I need in my head.

Defining "The Crazy" or Why It Took Me 30 Minutes To Make Coffee

Today I didn't leave the office between the hours of 7 AM and 6 PM, not even for lunch because I brought it with me and also I am lazy and also it was cold outside. Which meant, since our office was out of Diet Coke, I didn't get my usual afternoon caffeine fix, which meant that I was falling asleep at my desk. I even did that thing? Where you put your head in your hand? And then try to rest your elbow on your desk? But you miss so your elbow slips off the edge into your lap? That's right, I elbowed myself in the crotch. I DARE YOU TO JUDGE ME.

Anyway, since my dirty mistress Diet Coke wasn't there, I decided to make do with the old ball and chain. That's right, I made coffee. This is the first time I've ever made coffee in our office coffeemaker, because I usually bring my own in the morning. Hey, it might not be interesting but it's true so BITE ME. So, I started to pour the water into the . . . water holder thingie and ended up spilling half of it on the counter and, oh, also on my pants. While grabbing some paper towels, I knocked a key into the sink. I have no idea why this key was sitting there. As far as I know, no one knows what this key is for and that's why it has been sitting by the paper towels for the past two weeks. I thought about leaving it in the sink, but I was afraid someone might try to use the garbage disposal and I really didn't want to be responsible for breaking that since I'm already responsible for the sticky mess between the fridge and the counter because of that one time I spilled a Coke and didn't tell anyone and couldn't figure out how to clean the side of the fridge off without moving it like, COME ON, the fridge is heavy! I can't move it myself, people!

So, I'm standing there with my hand down the garbage disposal like I'm delivering a baby or something (yes, I went there) and the whole time I'm thinking, "Oh god, what if there's a freak jolt of electricity and it turns the disposal on and it chops all my fingers off forever and ever and I have to live the rest of my life with a horrible, mangled hand! Maybe I should be using my left hand, I use my right hand for all kinds of things and I don't think I could switch hands at this point in my life. OH GOD, where the fuck is this key I can't find it I don't wanna lose a finger no no no! Heh, although, maybe if I lose my whole hand I can tell people a seal bit it off," and so on.

I finally got the key out and then noticed that EW GROSS my hand was now coated with garbage disposal pus and food remnants from God knows when but seriously, God, don't tell me because I don't want to know. I washed my hands and then remembered the mess I'd made with the water all over the counter and dried that up. THEN I noticed the mess I'd made (ALSO with the water, a very important distinction) all over my pants and went to the bathroom to dry it and also to make sure it didn't look like I'd peed myself. If I had a dollar for every time I'd spilled some sort of liquid on my pants and spent the rest of the day looking like an incontinent person, well . . . I'd have at least 20 dollars. PROBABLY MORE.

And, ok, while I was in the bathroom I thought I might as well go! Why not waste as much time as possible? Well, our scrubs are the kind that tie in the back and the ties are really, really long. Even when tied. And somehow the way I sit in my chair at work causes my scrub top to become untied (I'm very antsy) and this makes the ties extra long. Today, a day which will live in infamy (in my brain, anyway), one of the ties fell in the toilet. Thankfully, before I used it. Because, seriously, that would have been disgusting if it had been after I'd used it. And I probably wouldn't be telling you about it (yes, I would).

SO. Then I had to go find some scissors to cut off the end of the tie that had fallen in the toilet, because I don't care if the toilet WAS cleaned today, I was not walking around with toilet water soaked into any part of my clothing. Once I had wandered around the office carrying one end of the tie out in front of me, explained what had happened to a couple coworkers, and found a pair of scissors, I realized that I had never finished setting up coffee. So, back to the breakroom I went and, not only did I spill more water in the process, but I also spilled coffee grounds all over the floor and then? I did what any responsible adult would do. I swept them under the rug.

THE END.

suddenly i see

Mom: So how'd your date go the other night?
Me: Oh, great, but he moved to Georgia the next day.
Mom: Way to go!
Me: Hey now, he was moving there before I met him.
Mom: That's not what I meant. Although, Jennie, why do you get involved with guys who don't live in the same state as you?
Me: Um.

It was one of those throw away comments, a joke really, that I haven't quite been able to get out of my head. Until I realized that I know exactly why I do that. Because there's little to no chance of a future, and yet it still gives me an excuse to not get attached to someone who lives, say, ten minutes away from me, that I might have to see every day. Because it's hard to hide The Crazy from someone you see every day. Just ask Heidi.

Anyway. Enough of that. This weekend marked the celebration of my sister turning 21. Friday after work was the celebration with the family.

Coworker: Ooh, you changed out of your scrubs, where are you going?
Me: To meet my family at a bar.
Coworker: . . .
Me: See you Monday!

And when I say "meet my family," I mean most of my aunts and uncles and my godfather as well as some friends of my parents who might as well BE family. Particularly Larry, who my dad has known since . . . I don't know, they were fetuses or whatever. As always, he asked me how things were going.

Larry: So, Jennie, how are you? No husbands? No babies?
Me: No, thank god.
Mom: No, Larry, I was a good mother and taught my girls about birth control.
Larry: Birth control, not self control, right?
Mom: Well, that is a very important difference.
Me: I'm leaving now.

Later my mom explained to Heidi and me how we'd know when we'd met the right guy which totally isn't fair because she met my dad when she was in junior high or something. WHAT. EVER. Also, she told me all sorts of family secrets. Don't ask her if she remembers, though, because judging by all the empty wine glasses that were sitting on our table, she totally doesn't.

If the microwave goes, I'm outta here

Slowly but surely, all of our kitchen appliances are turning against us. First there was the oven knob incident. Then there was my coffeemaker that decided to start turning itself off in the middle of brewing coffee. THEN there is our dishwasher, which we've had maintenance look at twice and which still fails to get the dishes clean 76 percent of the time. I totally made that statistic up, by the way. I hope you're not offended.

Anyway, the latest appliance to turn its back on us is our refrigerator. Which is like the most important appliance in the kitchen! That which keeps our beers cold! We opened our freezer this morning and noticed most of the meat (hee) wasn't frozen. That's a problem, you know. Upon further inspection, I noticed that the entire back wall of the freezer was covered in a frosty ice sculpture. Then we realized that our fridge wasn't keeping the food cold, either. We had no idea how long it'd had been like that, so we immediately called maintenance. While waiting, I googled and googled to see if there was anything we could do. Turns out, we could defrost the freezer! Doesn't that sound fun? It's not, really. Technically, you can just turn it off and leave the door open and wait, but I am impatient, so I employed some other techniques, such as boiling a pot of water, placing it in the freezer and shutting the door, chipping away at the ice with various, sharp objects (which, it turns out, you're not really supposed to do), and my FAVORITE, aiming a hairdryer at the ice and watching it melt. I did this until Heidi suggested that maybe it wasn't the best idea to be holding an electrical appliance in an ever-expanding puddle of water. Probably true.

The guy finally came and fixed our fridge, but not before telling us that everything, aside from some stuff we'd salvaged from the freezer, had gone bad. Which gave Heidi and I an excuse to go out for dinner, something we probably would have done anyway only now we didn't have to feel guilty about it.

I tried to look on the bright side. Tomorrow is when Operation Fat Whore, No More starts (we gave ourselves a week to adjust to 2007 and also we even have a weight/exercise chart SUCK ON THAT) so having no food in the house and also no money to buy groceries is actually a good thing.

Who in their right mind would put me on a jury anyway? You know I'm just going to laugh every time they say "duty."

You guys! I got called for jury duty. How do I get out of this? There's this form I'm supposed to fill out and it says if I want to be excused for medical reasons I need to submit a written statement from my doctor. WELL. Do you think if I send them a couple entries from this blog, that'd be enough to prove I'm too locobeans to serve?

OR, if I do have to go, I'd like to avoid being placed on a jury. So I'm going to need help coming up with another identity. I'll need a name, an outfit, and which minority I hate. Let's get on that, ok? OK.

reality bites

I worry sometimes that life is scripted but I'm the only one who didn't get my copy. I spend a lot of my time wondering what to say and if what I'm saying is the right thing (not usually). I have practice conversations in my head, like . . . if I say this, he'll say this, and then I can say this, and then this will happen.

Maybe I just like to be prepared. Still, sometimes I wish my brain would shut the hell up already.

the one with all the resolutions

Everyone else is doing it, so I'm going to give into peer pressure and make some resolutions. I only made one last year, and I completed a third of it. Whoohoo! Hey! It's better than nothing! Leave me alone! Anyway.

• Write more (this blog doesn't count as writing, since I am basically just spewing word salad everywhere)
• Eat better (because dinners consisting of pb&j and applesauce are not cutting it)
• For that matter, learn to cook. Because the pictures Kat takes of her food are so pretty. Also, see above. This website should help (thanks, Kat) but any others (maybe more dumbed down?) would be greatly appreciated.
• Stop procrastinating as much (we'll see how that goes, seeing as how I waited til the 4th to make any resolutions)
• Don't get pregnant (so far, so good)
• Don't get married in Vegas (so far, so good)
• or anywhere else (so far, so good)
• Don't get bitten by a zombie (so far, so good)
• Clean the apartment more often (yeah, we'll see)
• Go to the doctor when sick instead of trying to treat self with a combination of denial, naps, and lots of self-medicating
• Spend fewer hours dicking around on the Internets
• Take more pictures
• Travel somewhere other than Chicago (any suggestions?)
• Visit Chicago at least twice, though
• Stop calling Phoebe names like slut, whore, bitch, pussy, slutbag, etc. even though SHE TOTALLY DESERVES IT

I can't think of any more and really I think that's a sufficient number of resolutions to completely ignore for the remainder of the year.

2007, the year of Jennie!

For reasons better left unsaid (untyped?), Mary has declared 2007 my year. If you ask nicely, I will share some of it with you.

Seriously, though, it's about damn time I got my own year.

what happens in Chicago, stays in Chicago

I was going to write this big, elaborate entry about our trip to Chicago, but the thought of reliving the weekend right now is just . . . exhausting. Yeah, I think exhausting is the right word. Anyway, here are the highlights:

• Proving once again that I should not be put in charge of anything important, I printed out the directions to Mary's old apartment rather than her new one. Luckily, we found out before we drove to the old one.
• The $7 jeans I bought at Target stretched out so much in the car ride to Chicago that it felt like I was walking around with a load of shit in my pants. Hmm, maybe that's why they were only $7.
• Boys get really mean when they're playing Madden. Also, videogame football is even worse than watching real football.
• We went to our favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner and made friends with the table next to ours. They gave us their tequila shots.
• We went to the Russian district for New Years Eve. I did not meet anyone from the Russian mafia and was very disappointed.
• Someone spilled their rum and coke DIRECTLY INTO MY EYES at Shenanigans. It turns out that burns a hell of a lot, but I recovered quickly.
• We all wore funny hats.
• Nick traded his for a shot.
• And then got a new hat.
• Steve almost got in a fight but the other guy got kicked out of the bar because it was his fault. Douchebag. The guy, not Steve.
• Heidi got lost by herself for about 15 minutes and I feared we'd never see her again.
• We went back to Mary's and were immediately tackled by her roommate.
• Then we all sat in the hallway outside their apartment and met her neighbors and their dog.
• And I don't care what anyone says, NO ONE was wearing a bow tie in that apartment. Tuxedo? Yes. Bowtie? No.
• I accidentally drove Heidi's car like a racecar and almost killed us on the drive home.
• We got lost in downtown Chicago on the way home and somehow ended up driving around underneath the city. Again, I thought we might die. We didn't, though.

THE END.

2007, you tricky bastard

I'm feeling really guilty at the moment that 2007 has started off so well for me and yet there are other people who are getting the shit kicked out of them by the new year. At the moment, my boss's daughter is in surgery. Not life-threatening surgery, but life-changing surgery. And every time I start to feel happy, I think of that sweet, little girl and what she and her parents will have to go through in the coming months and maybe years, and the guilt punches me square in the gut once again. I'm not really one for praying, but I am for positive thinking so if you could send any good thoughts you can spare toward Dayton right now, it would be much appreciated.

Happy Birthday, sister!

Today my little sister turns 21. Let us all welcome her to the world of binge drinking . . . I mean, adulthood.