You guys know how I'm not smart, right? I mean, you really should know that if you've been reading this blog for even just a couple days. If you haven't realized by now that I'm not smart, well, I'm sorry to say that you might be just as dumb as I am.
I do a lot of stupid things. I drink and then talk to people or dial my cell phone or attempt to not fall down. I eat things I know will make me feel so, so sick. I stay up too late when I know I have to get up early the next morning. This morning I burnt my hand with my blowdryer and once I poked myself in the eye with my toothbrush.
And last night, when a dear friend desperately needed an answer to a very important question (I mean, five bucks was riding on it), I thought, "what would Abigail do?" And you know what? Abigail would head straight to Wackopedia. And so I typed Wackopedia into the search field and when Google was all, "did you mean Wikipedia*?" I was all, "no, you fool, take me to Wackopedia toot sweet**!" but you guys? Wackopedia*** is not what it's called. Not yet anyway.
*note: Google did not ask that. What's up, Google? You're slacking.
**whenever I see "wiktionary," I think of that episode of Futurama where Bender couldn't move his body and Beck's Head in a Jar was all like, "Check the Becktionary!" Wow, good story.
***I blame Heather! Anne! for this
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Today on The Collective, I offer to make sweet love to the Internets.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
These are my awards, Mother. From Army. The seal is for marksmanship, and the gorilla is for sand racing.
Last night, while I was playing Scrabble writing articles, my phone rang! I know! People call me! And sometimes I answer! Anyway, it was Heidi, so I answered, even though I was all, "WTF is she doing calling me from vacation? Shouldn't she be knee deep in cabana boys right now? Do they have cabana boys in Vegas? What's a cabana anyway?" and then I noticed that it was almost 9.
I answered all, "don't worry, I'm recording Big Brother." No hello or anything because Heidi and I have progressed past hellos. They are unnecessary. Superfluous, if you will, sort of like this sentence. After we'd discussed the importance of recording Big Brother, she asked how the weather was here and I tried to put a positive spin on it, but how do you put a positive spin on, "it's icy and snowy and pissing tiny ice cubes?" You don't. I hope she'll forgive me for not asking how the weather was in Vegas, but I thought if I heard her talking about the sun and the warmth I'd crush her face through the phone with the sheer force of my jealousy. And I don't want to crush her face because she needs it, for talking and picking up men and stuff. Finally, I let her go because she had to rest so she could be energized for all the drinking and partying she had scheduled later and now I bring you the shortest Conversation With My Roommate EVER:
Me: OK, bye. Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Heidi: Oooh, so it's wide open, then.
Me: Exactly.
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Today on The Collective, Kat says "seamen." Hee.
I answered all, "don't worry, I'm recording Big Brother." No hello or anything because Heidi and I have progressed past hellos. They are unnecessary. Superfluous, if you will, sort of like this sentence. After we'd discussed the importance of recording Big Brother, she asked how the weather was here and I tried to put a positive spin on it, but how do you put a positive spin on, "it's icy and snowy and pissing tiny ice cubes?" You don't. I hope she'll forgive me for not asking how the weather was in Vegas, but I thought if I heard her talking about the sun and the warmth I'd crush her face through the phone with the sheer force of my jealousy. And I don't want to crush her face because she needs it, for talking and picking up men and stuff. Finally, I let her go because she had to rest so she could be energized for all the drinking and partying she had scheduled later and now I bring you the shortest Conversation With My Roommate EVER:
Me: OK, bye. Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Heidi: Oooh, so it's wide open, then.
Me: Exactly.
_____
Today on The Collective, Kat says "seamen." Hee.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I've got the thingie. Half in English, half in squibbly.
Oh my god, you guys (heh), I'm super tired today. This might have something to do with not having slept well in, oh yeah, my ENTIRE LIFE, but ALSO some people were very bad influences on me last night and I stayed up way too late.
And when I tell you what I stayed up late doing, you are going to think, "oh my god, Jennie is an even bigger dork than I suspected AND I DIDN'T THINK THAT WAS POSSIBLE." Because, you see, I stayed up late playing Scrabble.
Oh, shut up. I mean, as if Facebook wasn't addicting enough, now you can play SCRABBLE? What are they doing to me? Last night, I was going to go to bed after Kat! and Mysterygirl! finished kicking my ass in TWO separate games, but then another game started and I was all, "who needs sleep?" Well, it turns out, I do. Actually, you know what? That's a lie. A big one. I'm not any sleepier today than I normally am, so screw trying to go to bed at a reasonable hour. From now on I'm just going to stay up until I'm so exhausted I just fall over and go to sleep wherever I happen to be standing at the moment. And if I land on Phoebe, well, that just means she needs to work on her speed and agility.
Aaaaanyway, I was late to work this morning, but I'm placing the blame squarely on snow's shoulders. Which is FOOLHARDY because what if snow's shoulders melt? WHAT THEN? So yeah, it snowed like two inches and then started sleeting, which really hurts when it hits your bare skin. It's sort of like God is throwing tiny ice pebbles at your face. Which . . . rude. As I was getting ready, I took the time to sit on my bed and watch the school and business closings scroll along the TV, allowing myself to hope that I might see my company's name on the list. I don't know what I was thinking, my company didn't even close the building last February when there was NO HEAT. Luckily, I didn't start until March so I missed February's Frostbite Friday. But whatever, I still maintain that if it's too dangerous for all the children in the area to go to school, it's too dangerous for me to drive to work. TRUE STORY.
So, back to Scrabble. I CAN'T HELP IT I'M ADDICTED. I'm wondering what the proper etiquette is for when the game is finished. Is there a set amount of time you should wait before you challenge that same person to a new game? Because I want to challenge them immediately. Like, the second the game is over. Kat and I thought that might be kind of slutty, but I'm OK with that.
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Today on The Collective, Abigail makes me want a burrito real bad.
And when I tell you what I stayed up late doing, you are going to think, "oh my god, Jennie is an even bigger dork than I suspected AND I DIDN'T THINK THAT WAS POSSIBLE." Because, you see, I stayed up late playing Scrabble.
Oh, shut up. I mean, as if Facebook wasn't addicting enough, now you can play SCRABBLE? What are they doing to me? Last night, I was going to go to bed after Kat! and Mysterygirl! finished kicking my ass in TWO separate games, but then another game started and I was all, "who needs sleep?" Well, it turns out, I do. Actually, you know what? That's a lie. A big one. I'm not any sleepier today than I normally am, so screw trying to go to bed at a reasonable hour. From now on I'm just going to stay up until I'm so exhausted I just fall over and go to sleep wherever I happen to be standing at the moment. And if I land on Phoebe, well, that just means she needs to work on her speed and agility.
Aaaaanyway, I was late to work this morning, but I'm placing the blame squarely on snow's shoulders. Which is FOOLHARDY because what if snow's shoulders melt? WHAT THEN? So yeah, it snowed like two inches and then started sleeting, which really hurts when it hits your bare skin. It's sort of like God is throwing tiny ice pebbles at your face. Which . . . rude. As I was getting ready, I took the time to sit on my bed and watch the school and business closings scroll along the TV, allowing myself to hope that I might see my company's name on the list. I don't know what I was thinking, my company didn't even close the building last February when there was NO HEAT. Luckily, I didn't start until March so I missed February's Frostbite Friday. But whatever, I still maintain that if it's too dangerous for all the children in the area to go to school, it's too dangerous for me to drive to work. TRUE STORY.
So, back to Scrabble. I CAN'T HELP IT I'M ADDICTED. I'm wondering what the proper etiquette is for when the game is finished. Is there a set amount of time you should wait before you challenge that same person to a new game? Because I want to challenge them immediately. Like, the second the game is over. Kat and I thought that might be kind of slutty, but I'm OK with that.
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Today on The Collective, Abigail makes me want a burrito real bad.
Monday, February 11, 2008
before anyone asks, NO, I have not been smoking anything
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Beatrice. Beatrice was British (naturally) and hated her name, except for when her father called her "Sweet Bea."
Beatrice wished she had a lovely, normal name, like her new pet Bill. Bill was a time traveling dinosaur and lived under her bed. Obviously, he was not a fully grown dinosaur. Not yet anyway. Beatrice assumed that a fully grown brontosaurus would eventually present some problems, especially since her parents didn't yet know about Bill, but for now he was perfectly happy squeezing his bulky body under her bed.
Beatrice went to the kitchen and made wheat toast with blackberry jam for herself and white toast with butter and honey for Bill. She carried her tray of toast and juice (orange for her, grape for Bill) to her room, tiptoeing past her slumbering parents' room. They'd thrown a loud party last night and sometimes her mother got the flu after parties like that, so Beatrice wanted to be extra quiet.
"Morning, Bill!" she said when she got to her room. He was stretched out on her bed so she shut her bedroom door.
"Morning, Princess Fiona," Bill said.
"Hmm, I'm not sure I want to be Princess Fiona today," said Beatrice. "After all, I was Princess Fiona all day yesterday."
"Alright, then, who shall it be today?" Bill asked.
"I think . . . Amelia."
"Bedelia?"
"No, silly, EARHART," she said.
"Oh, of course." Bill yawned and rolled off of the bed to do his morning jumping jacks. Beatrice winced every time he landed and the whole house shook.
"Bill, I wish you'd do your jumping jacks outside," Beatrice said.
"I know, Amelia, but it's raining again." Bill wasn't used to England's cold, rainy weather, since he was originally from Utah. Of course, it wasn't called Utah back then.
"Bill, where should we go today?" Beatrice asked.
"It's up to you. I've been everywhere."
"Well," Beatrice pondered. "We could go back to the African safari."
"We could. Although, last time we were almost eaten by a pack of lions," Bill said. He stretched and yawned.
"I know, it was so exciting!"
"Can we go somewhere we're not on the menu, please?"
"OK," Beatrice sighed. "How about London?"
"Darling, we're in London."
"I KNOOOOW we're in London, I meant FUTURE London," Beatrice said and rolled her eyes.
"Circa?"
"Um . . . 2067?"
"OK, let's go," Bill said and put on his favorite vest. It was green and fuzzy and had huge purple buttons.
"Brilliant! Just a second, though, I need my time traveling goggles."
"You realize those are really swimming goggles, don't you?" he asked.
"Not when I'm wearing them to TIME TRAVEL, they're not."
"Of course, how silly of me."
To be continued. Maybe. If I don't forget about it.
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Today on The Collective, Heather gets the shit kicked out of her by love.
Beatrice wished she had a lovely, normal name, like her new pet Bill. Bill was a time traveling dinosaur and lived under her bed. Obviously, he was not a fully grown dinosaur. Not yet anyway. Beatrice assumed that a fully grown brontosaurus would eventually present some problems, especially since her parents didn't yet know about Bill, but for now he was perfectly happy squeezing his bulky body under her bed.
Beatrice went to the kitchen and made wheat toast with blackberry jam for herself and white toast with butter and honey for Bill. She carried her tray of toast and juice (orange for her, grape for Bill) to her room, tiptoeing past her slumbering parents' room. They'd thrown a loud party last night and sometimes her mother got the flu after parties like that, so Beatrice wanted to be extra quiet.
"Morning, Bill!" she said when she got to her room. He was stretched out on her bed so she shut her bedroom door.
"Morning, Princess Fiona," Bill said.
"Hmm, I'm not sure I want to be Princess Fiona today," said Beatrice. "After all, I was Princess Fiona all day yesterday."
"Alright, then, who shall it be today?" Bill asked.
"I think . . . Amelia."
"Bedelia?"
"No, silly, EARHART," she said.
"Oh, of course." Bill yawned and rolled off of the bed to do his morning jumping jacks. Beatrice winced every time he landed and the whole house shook.
"Bill, I wish you'd do your jumping jacks outside," Beatrice said.
"I know, Amelia, but it's raining again." Bill wasn't used to England's cold, rainy weather, since he was originally from Utah. Of course, it wasn't called Utah back then.
"Bill, where should we go today?" Beatrice asked.
"It's up to you. I've been everywhere."
"Well," Beatrice pondered. "We could go back to the African safari."
"We could. Although, last time we were almost eaten by a pack of lions," Bill said. He stretched and yawned.
"I know, it was so exciting!"
"Can we go somewhere we're not on the menu, please?"
"OK," Beatrice sighed. "How about London?"
"Darling, we're in London."
"I KNOOOOW we're in London, I meant FUTURE London," Beatrice said and rolled her eyes.
"Circa?"
"Um . . . 2067?"
"OK, let's go," Bill said and put on his favorite vest. It was green and fuzzy and had huge purple buttons.
"Brilliant! Just a second, though, I need my time traveling goggles."
"You realize those are really swimming goggles, don't you?" he asked.
"Not when I'm wearing them to TIME TRAVEL, they're not."
"Of course, how silly of me."
To be continued. Maybe. If I don't forget about it.
_____
Today on The Collective, Heather gets the shit kicked out of her by love.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
and then we all ate ice cream
I have a lot of trouble concentrating on anything on Sundays, especially in the afternoon and evening, because I know that tomorrow I have to go back to work and why am I wasting the few precious, precious free hours I have left writing articles such as, "How to Wax the Chest?" I am fairly certain that is knowledge I will never, ever need and I feel as if I'd rather not divulge the information I've gathered to the public at large, for fear that all men will start WAXING THEIR CHESTS ALL THE TIME.
Note to men: Do not wax your chests, please.
I'm finding it really difficult to write these articles today because . . . I just don't want to. Heidi's in the other room watching How I Met Your Mother and there's so much Internet to read and also I have become hopelessly addicted to Scrabulous. I'm not any good, of course, mostly because my method of playing is, "hmm, I think I've heard this word before," and then I just throw a bunch of letters together, hit Play Word, and hope it sticks.
In other news, last night Heidi and I watched this episode of True Life on MTV that has to be at least seven years old, but the people on it were all having plastic surgery of some sort. The guy was having calf implants. CALF IMPLANTS. I just . . . there are no words to describe how absolutely stupid that is. What was hilarious, though, was that this guy shaves his entire body AND wears body glitter when he goes out. Yeah, I said body glitter. I'm glad it was on, though, because we had just finished the worst movie ever, after stupidly taking advice from some guy standing behind us at Kroger while we were picking movies out of the movie machine. He was all, "The Ultimate Gift is good. Don't get Zodiac, it's really long." I'm not sure what made us listen to him, especially since he was wearing Bengals pajama pants and also, since when do I take movie-related advice PERIOD, let alone movie-related advice about a JAKE GYLLENHAAL MOVIE? Anyway, if I ever see that guy again, I'm kicking him square in the nut because The Ultimate Gift sucked. It was worse than everything in the Nicholas Sparks oeuvre PUT TOGETHER. And now I would please like you to give me credit* for sitting through the entire thing. Thank you in advance.
*will take booze instead
Note to men: Do not wax your chests, please.
I'm finding it really difficult to write these articles today because . . . I just don't want to. Heidi's in the other room watching How I Met Your Mother and there's so much Internet to read and also I have become hopelessly addicted to Scrabulous. I'm not any good, of course, mostly because my method of playing is, "hmm, I think I've heard this word before," and then I just throw a bunch of letters together, hit Play Word, and hope it sticks.
In other news, last night Heidi and I watched this episode of True Life on MTV that has to be at least seven years old, but the people on it were all having plastic surgery of some sort. The guy was having calf implants. CALF IMPLANTS. I just . . . there are no words to describe how absolutely stupid that is. What was hilarious, though, was that this guy shaves his entire body AND wears body glitter when he goes out. Yeah, I said body glitter. I'm glad it was on, though, because we had just finished the worst movie ever, after stupidly taking advice from some guy standing behind us at Kroger while we were picking movies out of the movie machine. He was all, "The Ultimate Gift is good. Don't get Zodiac, it's really long." I'm not sure what made us listen to him, especially since he was wearing Bengals pajama pants and also, since when do I take movie-related advice PERIOD, let alone movie-related advice about a JAKE GYLLENHAAL MOVIE? Anyway, if I ever see that guy again, I'm kicking him square in the nut because The Ultimate Gift sucked. It was worse than everything in the Nicholas Sparks oeuvre PUT TOGETHER. And now I would please like you to give me credit* for sitting through the entire thing. Thank you in advance.
*will take booze instead
Saturday, February 09, 2008
I don't understand the question, and I won't respond to it
I have absolutely nothing to do this weekend, and so of course I have written ZERO articles. My plan was to write as many as possible and it looks like as many as possible might turn out to be, oh, one or two. But Heidi is ditching me for California next week so I'll have many, many hours to fill and I'm sure eventually I'll run out of Internet and be forced to do some actual work. Wah wah waaaaaah.
Last night, Heidi and I took (and failed) the Chipotle challenge and then came home and watched Project Runway and decided we're going to vote Tim Gunn for president. Later, Bridget Jones came on and I told Heidi that I could probably recite the entire movie along with it because I've seen it no fewer than 100 million times. I realized that I wasn't lying as we watched the movie and I told Heidi where all the dubbed over curse words should be. Question. Why can they say "sod off," but they changed, "wiping Saddam Hussein's ass" to "washing Saddam Hussein's cars?" WTF, TV?
Whatever, I mean, that pretty much shot all of last night and then this morning, by the time I drank half a pot of coffee, read some Fitzgerald, and took a shower, it was time to go visit my grandmother and THEN I had to go mooch chili off of my parents and THEN I had to go to Kroger.
You know, when I was little, I remember going to the grocery with my mom, sitting in the cart, and asking her to buy me every piece of crap toy we'd come across. You know the ones I'm talking about? Those shitty plastic toys that just spring up in the cereal or the potato chip aisles? I don't know why I wanted them. Inevitably, it'd break or my sister would throw it out the window on the way home (true story), but I WANTED THEM ANYWAY. I hardly ever got them, though, because my mom realized they'd either, um, break or end up on the side of the road somewhere.
Which is why I'm so happy to now be an adult with my very own money, so that when I run by the grocery to pick up cat food, I can buy my own piece of shit toys:
Last night, Heidi and I took (and failed) the Chipotle challenge and then came home and watched Project Runway and decided we're going to vote Tim Gunn for president. Later, Bridget Jones came on and I told Heidi that I could probably recite the entire movie along with it because I've seen it no fewer than 100 million times. I realized that I wasn't lying as we watched the movie and I told Heidi where all the dubbed over curse words should be. Question. Why can they say "sod off," but they changed, "wiping Saddam Hussein's ass" to "washing Saddam Hussein's cars?" WTF, TV?
Whatever, I mean, that pretty much shot all of last night and then this morning, by the time I drank half a pot of coffee, read some Fitzgerald, and took a shower, it was time to go visit my grandmother and THEN I had to go mooch chili off of my parents and THEN I had to go to Kroger.
You know, when I was little, I remember going to the grocery with my mom, sitting in the cart, and asking her to buy me every piece of crap toy we'd come across. You know the ones I'm talking about? Those shitty plastic toys that just spring up in the cereal or the potato chip aisles? I don't know why I wanted them. Inevitably, it'd break or my sister would throw it out the window on the way home (true story), but I WANTED THEM ANYWAY. I hardly ever got them, though, because my mom realized they'd either, um, break or end up on the side of the road somewhere.
Which is why I'm so happy to now be an adult with my very own money, so that when I run by the grocery to pick up cat food, I can buy my own piece of shit toys:
Friday, February 08, 2008
Hummus, I got the hummus.
You know how sometimes they (who is they?) say that a really smart person doesn't have any common sense? Well, if you changed "really smart person" to "someone of average intelligence," then that could totally apply to me.
For instance! Feast your eyes on my stupidity! Earlier this week, I caught the plague from someone. Either Heidi or one of the 800 people at work who were walking around sneezing and coughing on everything and everyone. I seriously considered wearing a surgical mask to work and the only reason I didn't was because I didn't have one. I began to miss working at the orthodontist's office, where I could regularly wipe my phone and computer and self down with antibacterial wipes. Or at the very least, walk around wearing latex gloves. But I can't do that anymore, because there IS no latex in my new office building. Unless you count the condom dispenser in the bathroom, but it's not like I can walk around with condoms on my hands. I kid, I kid. I'd never put condoms on my hands. Zing! Yeah, I don't know.
Anyway, so I started to feel not good Tuesday night. So not good that I ended up staying home from work on Wednesday, where I sat around in my pajamas and watched half a season of Arrested Development and slept for, oh, about 18 hours. True story. No, it's not. I only slept 17 hours. I did watch half a season of Arrested Development, though. Season one. The middle half. True story. Oh my god, Jennie, stop it.
I went back to work yesterday (booooo!), but I still felt like poo for the majority of the day. Yet, FOR SOME REASON, when I got home from work I was all, "I should go running." What? No. But in my head, I kept telling myself not to be a pussy, that I didn't feel THAT bad, and GODDAMN IT GET YOUR RUNNING SHOES ON AND GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE.
So I went running and it wasn't terrible, other that it was really fucking cold outside and by the end I couldn't really feel my ears. Oh, and also my chest hurt for the rest of the night but it feels alright now. I mean, sure, I'm a little more ADD than usual (I put deodorant on no fewer than three times this morning because I couldn't remember if I'd done it or not) and I'm sort of (really) sleepy, but it's Friday and I'm ADD and sleepy on Fridays ANYWAY. I guess the moral of the story is that I'm stupid and have no common sense but it's OK because it hasn't killed me.
Yet.
_____
Today on The Collective, who would you do?
For instance! Feast your eyes on my stupidity! Earlier this week, I caught the plague from someone. Either Heidi or one of the 800 people at work who were walking around sneezing and coughing on everything and everyone. I seriously considered wearing a surgical mask to work and the only reason I didn't was because I didn't have one. I began to miss working at the orthodontist's office, where I could regularly wipe my phone and computer and self down with antibacterial wipes. Or at the very least, walk around wearing latex gloves. But I can't do that anymore, because there IS no latex in my new office building. Unless you count the condom dispenser in the bathroom, but it's not like I can walk around with condoms on my hands. I kid, I kid. I'd never put condoms on my hands. Zing! Yeah, I don't know.
Anyway, so I started to feel not good Tuesday night. So not good that I ended up staying home from work on Wednesday, where I sat around in my pajamas and watched half a season of Arrested Development and slept for, oh, about 18 hours. True story. No, it's not. I only slept 17 hours. I did watch half a season of Arrested Development, though. Season one. The middle half. True story. Oh my god, Jennie, stop it.
I went back to work yesterday (booooo!), but I still felt like poo for the majority of the day. Yet, FOR SOME REASON, when I got home from work I was all, "I should go running." What? No. But in my head, I kept telling myself not to be a pussy, that I didn't feel THAT bad, and GODDAMN IT GET YOUR RUNNING SHOES ON AND GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE.
So I went running and it wasn't terrible, other that it was really fucking cold outside and by the end I couldn't really feel my ears. Oh, and also my chest hurt for the rest of the night but it feels alright now. I mean, sure, I'm a little more ADD than usual (I put deodorant on no fewer than three times this morning because I couldn't remember if I'd done it or not) and I'm sort of (really) sleepy, but it's Friday and I'm ADD and sleepy on Fridays ANYWAY. I guess the moral of the story is that I'm stupid and have no common sense but it's OK because it hasn't killed me.
Yet.
_____
Today on The Collective, who would you do?
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