Let's all go to the movies and then gouge our eyes out because that's how bad Due Date was

My love for Robert Downey Jr. runs deep, so deep that I have seen Only You MORE THAN ONCE. In fact, when I saw that Only You was available for Netflix Instant, I might have actually squeed aloud. I watched it almost immediately and I was almost able to ignore how absolutely terrible it is. Such is the power of RDJ's charm.

I've been swooning over RDJ for years now, through his stint in rehab AND on Ally McBeal, all the way to, well, today. I saw Iron Man because he was in it, I loved him in Wonder Boys, my sides ached with laughter during his bits in Tropic Thunder, and I watched Sherlock Holmes just to see the magic of the budding bromance between RDJ and Jude Law.

But this past weekend, Robert Downey Jr. almost lost my love FOREVER and I will tell you why: DUE DATE.

Oh, I was all set to love it, despite the poor reviews I'd read back when it came out, because his character's name in the movie is Peter Highman. Just...just say it out loud. See? It immediately pandered to my 13-year-old-boy level of maturity, so I was on board. But you guys, this movie is terrible. I don't know what happened. I love stupid movies as much as the next person (I own Zoolander) but there is almost nothing redeeming about this movie.

Here is the premise: Peter (RDJ) is on his way home, and needs to be there by Friday, because his wife is getting a C-section that day and I guess it's, like, important to meet your baby right away, I don't know. He meets Zach Galificleurlduskjerudl's character, Ethan, at the airport and there is some nonsense about their bags getting mixed up. Then they get in a fight on the airplane and, of course, get kicked off. Peter has this problem, I guess, that when he gets mad, he "sees red," so he never remembers the yelling and the punching or whatever, but really I think his problem is that he's just an asshole.

Anyway, so they get kicked off the plane and Peter's wallet is still ON the plane because for some reason, he put it in the seat pocket in front of him? Or something? Do people do this? So he can't rent a car because he has no money or ID. Also, he's now on the no-fly list on account of the fighting and the mixed up baggage.

Ethan, however, still has money and his ID, so he is able to rent a car and convinces Peter to come with him. Thus begins their tragic journey across the country. Oh yeah, I forgot, but Ethan is carrying his dead father's ashes around in a coffee can. This will be important later but it's gross so prepare yourselves. Also, Ethan wants to be an actor because he was inspired by Two and a Half Men. This will be important later but it's gross so prepare yourselves.

Along the way, Ethan stops to buy pot and, while there, Peter punches a child in the stomach. I mean, the kid was annoying, but you just can't punch a child. I'm pretty sure that's like a rule. Ethan spends all their money on pot, then Peter insults a war veteran at Western Union so they can't even get the money Peter's wife wired to them, so they are pretty much screwed. I think this is when they sleep at a rest stop and Peter tries to ditch Ethan there but, in his only redeeming scene in the movie, feels guilty and goes back to get him. Later, Ethan falls asleep while he's driving and DRIVES OFF OF AN OVERPASS, so maybe Peter had the right idea, what with the ditching, but don't worry, the only bad things that happen are that Peter breaks an arm and the dog now has to wear a cone of shame.

At this point, Jamie Foxx rescues them and takes them to his house. He lends them a car, but not before making them coffee out of Ethan's father's ashes. Yep, sure, why not.

I think it's soon after they leave Jamie Foxx that Ethan accidentally drives them to Mexico. Yeah. Peter gets arrested by border patrol because...I don't remember why, and is locked up in a trailer, which Ethan then STEALS and then they are in the most ridiculous car chase ever and it was at this point that I wondered why I was still watching the movie.

They become friends at this point, sort of, even though Peter is still a total asshole. They go to the Grand Canyon and I wish Ethan would push Peter over the side. They OBVIOUSLY make it to California in time for Peter to see his baby's birth...well, sort of, because I forgot that Ethan accidentally shoots Peter at some point so I think Peter passes out during the actual birth but who cares because he was an asshole anyway and assholes shouldn't get to see their babies get borned. Actually, wait, scratch that, the birthing process is way disgusting so assholes should have to watch that shit, like, 24/7, right? Right.

OK, but here is where I felt completely betrayed. Ethan and Peter apparently become BFF, although reluctantly on Peter's part because of the asshole thing. Peter and his wife and baby are lying in bed one night, watching TV, and you guys, THEY ARE WATCHING TWO AND A HALF MEN. Because Ethan was a guest actor on it or something. But WHATEVER WHO CARES. The point is, this movie tricked me into watching part of Two and a Half Men and I don't care that it was maybe only a minute or two, it was still a minute or two of Two and a Half Men that I never, ever wanted to see. And, I don't know, you guys, as much as I hate to say it, I think it's going to take a lot of shirtless wrestling before I can ever trust RDJ again.

you pinch me, I choke you

I'm not wearing green today. In fact, I'm wearing red. It's not that I don't like St. Patrick's Day, it's just FUCK YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO WEAR. Also, I always look for excuses to get mad at people, so if anyone tries to pinch me I WILL CHOKE THEM. Of course, choking a coworker might get me fired, but according to this study, that might be a good thing. But seriously, coworkers, DO NOT TOUCH ME. Or, like, even talk to me.

I have the day off tomorrow and I was talking to Joe last night about how, just a few years ago, I would have been so excited that I could celebrate St. Patrick's Day without having to work the next day. Hell, even if I DID have to work the next day, I probably would have celebrated. I think it was three years ago that Steve, Heidi, and I got my dad (my dad: "Does this make me an enabler?) to drop us off at Harrigan's on St. Patrick's Day in the middle of the week. We had my dad drop us off because A) we assumed the parking lot would be full and B) we all had to work the next day, so we needed our cars, like, at home. It was brilliant, right? We'd just take a taxi home!

We did not take into account that everyone in Dayton would be taking taxis home, and so when we called for one, there were none available. Like, as in, they told us they might be able to pick us up...at 5 AM. At that point, it was too late to call anyone to pick us up because, duh, they all had to work the next day, too, so we walked. It was only like two and a half miles, so it wasn't THAT crazy, except that Steve had recently had knee surgery and still had a brace, I think? And some weird guys kept trying to convince us to come to their apartment? We were all really hungry, too, because beer needs feeding after a while, and I was getting bored because walking was taking too long, so I ran the last mile ahead of Heidi and Steve, I guess to make food? And to get home faster. Sure.

Heidi and Steve got home to find the front door open and me running around the apartment brushing my teeth. I had also dumped a box of granola bars on top of the stove for them. That was me cooking, I guess? Probably safer than me actually using the oven in that state, so they should be happy they didn't come home to find the apartment on fire.

Anyway, Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I love my dead gay son

I am an anger ball today, which is pretty standard for a Monday, but ESPECIALLY for a Monday after a really good weekend.

(If you're wondering why I don't blog anymore, it's because I can't come up with anything new to say and SO, I keep posting the same drivel. I've had a blog for like five years, people, and I'M RUNNING OUT OF THINGS TO TALK ABOUT. Sorry.)

Any. Way. I had a busy weekend, I suppose, although I didn't do anything especially productive. On Friday, I ate spicy buffalo balls and thought my stomach lining was melting away. You'd think that would have stopped me from eating all manner of junk food (hamburger, popcorn, peanuts, cookie, nachos, ice cream) yesterday at the ballpark, but it didn't. I'm not so good at the learning from mistakes thing that most people learn in kindergarten or whatever.

THE REASON I was at the ballpark was because my family rented a suite so we got to pretend to be big time while we watched the Dayton Dragons get absolutely crushed by . . . someone. I just now realized I have no idea who they were playing. I didn't know until about the sixth inning though that the Dragons were getting their asses kicked, so that's about par for the course, I'd say.

So, they lost. But I got to eat delicious junk food and drink delicious beer, so really, does it matter who wins or loses? No. Because everyone's a winner when I'm happy.

Some other good stuff happened this weekend. Like, I introduced Joe to the beauty that is Heathers. And I successfully ran on a treadmill for thirty minutes without falling off, but only because I didn't allow myself to look anywhere but straight ahead. That didn't stop me from being able to see some seriously weird activity, though. Like, MythBusters was on TV, but I couldn't hear anything because I had my iPod on and at one point, I decided the show was even better on mute because Adam was dressed as a cavewoman and I had lots of fun trying to figure out why. There was also this couple working out together. When I got there, she was on one of the two treadmills and he was using the weight machines. I think he got pissed when I came in because I took the other treadmill, but WHATEVER DOUCHE, did you mark the treadmill with your urine? No? Then step off.

Right, so I got on the treadmill and the woman next to me was all run fast, walk slow, run fast, walk slow, and the guy was using the weight machines ALL WRONG but he was really skinny so maybe it was his first time using weight machines. He kept walking all around my treadmill, too, while I was running, and I wasn't sure if he was like, walking off a cramp, or trying to intimidate me to fall (jerk), but it didn't work. Finally, after some discussion, the woman got off of her treadmill and got on the bike so her husband/boyfriend could use the treadmill. Which, yeah, I guess that's nice but I'd never do that (sorry, Joe) because I HAVE A RUNNING SCHEDULE THAT I MUST STICK TO. Anyway, I stayed on the treadmill longer than I needed to JUST BECAUSE so the guy was done running before I was. Then? He got off the treadmill and just stood there next to it and his wife/girlfriend WIPED OFF THE MACHINE FOR HIM. And did I mention he was just standing there? That's weird, right? Right?

Know what else is weird? That this entry hasn't ended yet, even though I clearly have nothing else to say. But I'm going to keep writing, OK? OK.

I believe I mentioned above that I'm in a shitty mood, yes? Well, in case you forgot: I'm in a shitty mood. Only not really anymore, because I ate my lunch (maybe low blood sugar was making me a bitch) and I also talked to Joe AND ALSO Heidi told me Lampl and Jon are coming over tonight (yay!) AND ALSO even though the people at Subway were totally incompetent AND they neglected free cookie Monday, it gave me something to complain about and I heart complaining. So there's that.

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.

I keep on talking trash but never say anything

I have a severe case of Bitchface today. I could blame the heat, but it's not even as hot today as it was yesterday and yesterday I was fine. Of course, yesterday I spent the day a) brunching, b) shopping at the bookstore, c) reading Salinger, and d) passing out from heat exhaustion at the pool. Whereas today, you see, I was at work. That might have something to do with the Bitchface. I don't know. I'm still looking into it.

I feel stupid complaining about the heat, because it's August and it's always hot in August but I HATE IT I HATE IT I WANT AUGUST TO DIE.

Anyway, we went to a Reds game on Saturday and luckily there were a shit ton of empty seats in the bleachers so we sat all the way at the top because that's where the shade was. Beer cost more than our tickets. And that's all I have to say about that.

After the game we went to dinner and while I was in the bathroom everyone started a rousing game of Would You Rather. When I got back, the question was, "would you rather your spouse was addicted to meth or prostitutes," and when someone shouted "PROSTITUTES PROSTITUTES" the old man at the table behind us turned around and gave us such a look of disgust I thought his face might melt off. I don't want to say it wasn't me who yelled "PROSTITUTES PROSTITUTES," but only because I don't really remember if it was me or not. It sure SOUNDS like me. Whatever. Heidi was the one who was all, "prostitutes, because they're cheaper," like . . . what kind of cheap ass prostitutes is your husband going to, Heidi?

LATER I accidentally got everyone's hopes up that the meteor shower was that night and we had all these plans to get a blanket and some beers and watch it fly by but then I Googled it and it turns out the meteor shower WAS NOT Saturday night, but Sunday night. Stupid meteors. Then I got called a nerd for the following reasons:

• I've read Harry Potter way more than once
• Heidi was telling a story about a transvestite named Larry who wanted to be called Laurie and how she couldn't call him Laurie because Laurie is a girl's name and I was all, "nuh uh, in Little Women there is a character named Laurie and he is a boy who falls in love with Jo and Amy, and if you can take on two of the March sisters in one lifetime, especially those two, you are pretty damn manly," and they just stared at me like I'd grown two heads but I went inside and checked and it turns out I had NOT grown two heads, I guess they just apparently hadn't read Little Women 800 times as a tiny child like I did.
• I used the word "unwieldy" when talking about what objects in our apartment would be too difficult to use as weapons against zombies.

I'm sure there were more reasons. It's just that I get called a nerd so often, I barely notice it anymore. BUT WHATEVER. Everyone else was JUST AS EXCITED ABOUT THE METEOR SHOWER AS I WAS and if that doesn't make you a nerd, I don't know what does.

Please pray for it to get a little cooler. At least by this weekend. We're going to Kings Island (please don't stalk me) and if it's hot, it will be smelly and ALSO there will be way more fat, dimpled flesh everywhere if it's 100 degrees and not, say, 80. Truly. It's science. Heidi got tickets through work and I was all excited because they were so cheap until Heidi told me she probably wouldn't ride all the roller coasters and I think my exact words were, "WELL, THEN, YOU'D BETTER INVITE MORE PEOPLE," because my response to someone doing something nice for me is apparently to yell at them and berate them for not wanting to fly upside-down at 50 miles per hour.

Dear Time Warner, jump up your own ass and die. Love, Jennie

You guys, I have a favor. I must ask you to boycott Time Warner Cable, if you have that ability. You see, I cannot boycott Time Warner Cable because they are the only cable company in the area. Which must be the reason their customer service, excuse my language, sucks giant, hairy donkey balls. Seriously. Go Google "Time Warner sucks" and you will come up with all sort of stories from people who have been screwed (and not in a good way) by Time Warner. I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM.

About a month ago, Heidi and I came home to discover that our cable was out. NOT GOOD. Especially because we were missing How I Met Your Mother . . . the one where Barney goes on The Price is Right. Can you believe that shit? Me either. Bob Fucking Barker. When I called Time Warner, Christopher (if that IS his real name) told me that it had been disconnected because of nonpayment. "No," I said. "I am looking at the bill right now and we don't owe anything."

"Oh," he replied. "Can you hold please?"

So I held. And held. And held some more. When he came back on the line he told me that our cable should not have been disconnected (duh) and a technician would hook it up the next day. He ALSO told me no one needed to be home for this to happen because they had just disconnected it at the pole. OK. When I got home the next day, I was pleasantly surprised to find the cable working. However, there were two messages on the answering machine from Time Warner Customer Service saying I'd missed my appointment and needed to reschedule. I ignored both messages because, um, clearly I hadn't missed my appointment. The cable was back on. Problem solved.

Until today. DUN DUN DUN! I came home for lunch and noticed a Time Warner Cable van in the parking lot. I didn't think anything of it until I heard a bunch of noises outside my bedroom window, where the cable is hooked up. I turned on the TV and noticed that HEY our cable wasn't working! OH NO HE DIDN'T. I grabbed our latest bill and ran outside. He was already back in his van and so I knocked on the window all rude and "EXCUSE ME" until he got out.

"Did you just disconnect our cable?" I asked. He nodded. "WHY?" I growled. He messed around with his papers and told me it was because we hadn't paid our bill, which is when I started yelling and waving the bill in his face and told him the story I told you guys only not so nice. He called his supervisor, who said I needed to go to the Time Warner Cable office and show them my ID.

"WHY?" I asked again.

He said something about a credit check for the reinstallation, at which point I tried to explain that they were never supposed to disconnect our cable in the first place, at which point he stared at me and said nothing, at which point I said, "this is fucking ridiculous," and slammed the door in his face. On my way back to work I called customer service and they told me the same thing. I needed to show my picture ID at the Time Warner office. But THIS LADY couldn't even tell me why. Whatever, I thought, I'll just go down there and fix this, no big deal.

All afternoon long I worked myself up into an angrier anger ball than I already was. I got to the place ten minutes before they closed (whew) and when I explained my story to the lady at the counter, she just kept shaking her head and saying, "they shouldn't have done that." Well, NO SHIT, lady, that's why I'm here! She ran a credit check, looked at my ID and verified that I am, in fact, Jennifer Lynn Lastname and not some crazy impostor, and said someone would be out to reconnect my cable.

"And I won't be charged for anything?" I asked. She shook her head. I got her name. If they try and charge me extra money or fail to reconnect everything by tomorrow, Penny's going down.

I would love to get rid of Time Warner. I could live without cable (Heidi?) . . . I mean, I wouldn't like it (no Jon Stewart?) but I've lived without before and it was fine. Anyway, I'm super pissed right now because NBC is airing a marathon of The Office tonight HOSTED BY STEVE CARELL. Although, we have the episodes they're running either on DVD or TiVo anyway, so I got over that pretty quickly. BUT. John Krasinski is on Conan O'Brien tonight AND I'M GOING TO MISS IT. And they are my two favorite Bostonians!

Seriously, I don't know (heh) what I'd do without YouTube.

PS: Sorry for being so complainy. I realize that, in the grand scheme of things, this a small, tiny, insignificant problem. But if I were going to get and stay this mad about the grand scheme of things, I'd never get anything done.

And the people that I know, I hate you all. And the people that I don't, I hate you all.

You guys, I am such an anger ball today. I wouldn't talk to me if I were you. I think it's really because I had this horrible, horrible dream last night and it's been hanging over my head all day. It was so bad that it woke me up and then I couldn't fall back to sleep because I was FREAKING THE HELL OUT because almost being buried alive is scary. I'm assuming. It was in my dream, anyway.

So now instead of acting like a normal person today, I am listening to angry music and snapping at everyone and being an all-around bitch.

You know, more so than usual.

the girl with kaleidoscope eyes

You might want to stay away from me today. I am an anger ball. A tiny, hateful, twisted mass of vitriol ready to spring and cut you with evil, spiteful words and I don't think you want that.

I didn't sleep well last night, POSSIBLY from the combination of food (or food-type substances) I gorged myself with during the Super Bowl. I spent most of the night tossing and turning and during the bit I didn't spend tossing and turning I had the weirdest dreams I have ever had in the history of my life and no I will not be sharing them because some of them were borderline inappropriate and some of them? Not even borderline. And then, AND THEN, I spent the majority of this morning driving around the country looking for our new office. I was only lost for about half an hour of that time, though, but it was a scary half hour because I was almost out of gas so I kept picturing myself practically freezing to death on the side of the road until I was rescued by the male version of Kathy Bates who would take me back to his/her cabin in the dark, secluded woods and make me write him/her a novel and then smash my feet with a sledgehammer when I tried to escape and now I can't remember how it ends. I think Kathy Bates gets what's coming to her but I can't recall and I don't feel like looking it up. So there. Anyway, I did not freeze to death and I did find a gas station and I also found our new office even though I was half an hour late.

The brightest part of my day? I heard Sweet Caroline on the radio but it was at the office so I couldn't sing along like I normally do. Yes, I know how incredibly sad it is that that was the brightest part of my day but that is just the kind of day it's been. I am one frigid-cold morning away from flying south for the winter. Who wants to let me build a nest in their front yard? Or back yard, really. I'm not picky. It doesn't even have to be that warm. I'd settle for 50. OK, 35 even.

Conversations With My Mother

Or, My Stupidity Reaches New Levels . . .

Me: I have to go to Bath & Body Works to buy a gift.
Mom: Ooh.
Me: Yeah, our work gift exchange is tomorrow and I haven't gotten my person a gift yet.
Mom: Jennifer Lynn.
Me: I know.
Mom: You know, procrastinating won't make it go away.
Me: I've been busy!
Mom: Uh-huh.
Me: Whatever, I have.
Mom: Which Bath & Body Works are you going to?
Me: Probably the one in Town & Country, cause I don't want to fight the assholes at the Dayton Mall right now. I'm pretty tired.
Mom: Jennie . . .
Me: Town & Country won't be too busy, right?
Mom: Jennie.
Me: What?
Mom: Why don't you go to the Bath & Body Works at The Greene?
Me: Oh, you mean that really cute mall that is right by my apartment and on my way home?
Mom: Yes.
Me: Because I forgot there was one in there.
Mom: Thought so.
Me: What's even worse is I was there last night and walked by Bath & Body Works at least twice.
Mom: Oh, Jennie.
Me: Please don't tell anyone how stupid I am.
Mom: OK.
Me: Cause I want to do it.

And then? When I got to The Greene? I walked around and around and around because I couldn't remember where the store was even though last night we walked around and around and around the entire place and I should have had the layout memorized. I even checked the information map and still couldn't find it. I mean, if the map had said "next to the elephant statues covered in twinkly lights that Heidi dared you to climb" then I could have easily found it BUT IT DIDN'T SAY THAT.

Also, I was just wrapping presents so I thought I'd turn on some Christmas music to get me, YOU KNOW, in the mood. I don't know if you have Delilah in your neck of the woods, but her show is on the All Christmas Station right now (ALSO SHE SUCKS AND I HATE HER) and I began to suspect that the Christmas music wasn't having the intended effect on my mood when I told Delilah to, and I quote, "shut the fuck up and play fucking jingle bells."