also, I'm tired of scraping ice off my windshield every damn morning

If this week was a word, it'd be "Frustration" and if it was a drink, it'd be "An Entire Bottle of Whiskey STAT" and if it had a motto, it'd be, "can I just go home and go to bed, please?"

Ugh.

Guest Blog! (aka, Jennie was lazy and begged other people to write for her)

by: Abigail! and Heather! Anne!

Let us ask you something, Internets: do you know anyone except for Jennie! who blogs for you every single day? No. You do not. And do you know why you do not? Because no one is as awesome as Jennie!, that's why. Abigail! and Heather! Anne! (of The Collective) are blogging for her today because: a) She deserves a break. b) Neither Abigail! nor Heather! Anne! are writing on their own blogs anymore. c) They have some important research to share with you. See: charts.

Chart 1: Which Animals on the Internets are more important than all babies?

Hypothesis: Nearly all animals except for bears are more important than all babies.



Scientific result: Correct. Animals FTW!


Chart 2: What are the "reasons" to watch American Idol?

Hypothesis: There are none.



Scientific result: Incorrect. There apparently are reasons to watch American Idol.


Conclusion: Ryan Seacrest will eat your unimportant babies.

Please stay tuned for more research. Next time, Abigail! and Heather! Anne! will quantitatively predict which office supplies are most fulfilling, and easiest to steal.

Dear Internets,

My job is trying to kill me and I didn't sleep last night because I'm really stupid and drank 87 gallons of Coke before I tried to go to bed. True story.

Also, I had chocolate chip cookies for breakfast this morning.

That is all.

I KNEW IT

Yeah, yeah, I know he's fictional, but please let me live in my dream world, OK? Thanks in advance.

Who is Your Ideal TV Boyfriend?

that kind of girl

Today marked the beginning of wedding season, as far as I'm concerned, because I went to a bridal shower. And, as everyone knows, the world revolves around ME, so therefore . . . wedding season. End of discussion.

As I was getting ready, I kept thinking, "Jennie, what are you doing? It's noon on Sunday and you've . . . you've showered. And . . . you're putting on mascara. You don't wear mascara on Sundays." True story. I barely make it out of bed on some Sundays and I certainly don't make a special point to put on makeup if all I'm going to be doing is roaming from my bedroom to the living room all day long.

And yet, Nancy is one of my best friends and so there are a lot of things I would do for her, like give her a kidney or break her out of a French prison or, you know, shower and slap on some mascara on a Sunday. Also, I'm a bridesmaid so it's sort of expected that I attend these things. Apparently. I've actually never been a bridesmaid before and this is like the best bridesmaid duty ever because A) our dresses are black, B) we get to pick out our own dresses, and C) it's a destination wedding that no one is attending except the happy couple and her parents AND SO bridesmaid duty includes only bridal shower, bachelorette party and reception, which means I don't have to walk down any aisles and potentially fall down on my face in front of God and Nancy's family. Thank you, Nancy.

I find bridal showers exhausting. The people are always nice, but I'm not good at small talk. Or being on my best behavior, for that matter. This was a good bridal shower, though, on account of of all the wine and ALSO we didn't have to play any of those stupid bridal shower games. I'm not kidding, you guys, I'd rather set myself on fire than make a wedding dress out of toilet paper or PLAY BRIDAL SHOWER GIFT BINGO OH MY GOD JUST KILL ME NOW.

Ahem. But we didn't have to do any of that. We drank wine and ate finger sandwiches and did our bridemaidly duties (oh my god, I keep saying duty hahahahahaha) and as we drove away, I said, "I AM SO HUNGRY." You know, because we'd only eaten finger sandwiches all day and I don't know if you know this, but I'm not really a finger sandwich type of girl. I like my sandwiches to be regular sized and chock full of meat (heh) with a side of potato chips and maybe a pickle. And so, after spending a civilized afternoon drinking wine out of fancy glasses and eating tiny food off of fancy plates, we went to grab steak, potatoes, and beer for dinner at a place where you can throw peanut shells on the floor which, let's face it, is much more my style.

Everyone in your wagon has died. Many wagons fail to make it all the way to Oregon.

Holy crapbag, you guys, I need a break. Stupid articles! I hate you! It's all your fault that I'm stuck writing you instead of sitting on the sofa in my pajamas watching all those episodes of Futurama that TiVo recorded!

Speaking of Futurama, one of the episodes TiVo recorded is that one where Fry finds his fossilized dog and he's going to clone him and Bender is jealous and then he finds out that his dog lived for 15 years and probably had a good life after Fry was frozen and then they flash back to the dog searching and searching for Fry and then WAITING FOR FRY OUTSIDE THE PIZZA PARLOR WHERE FRY WORKED FOREVER AND EVER BECAUSE FRY NEVER CAME BACK. And then I cry and cry. I'm about to cry just thinking about it. Damn you, show!

Last night, Heidi and I watched part of 300 and after a while, I was all, "this is sort of gay," and Heidi was like, "but this all happened before gay was invented," and I was all, "nuh-uh, what about Ancient Greeks, they had the penis-in-butt-sex all the time," and Heidi just stared at me and so then I was like, "it's true, they did it for warmth and camaraderie," and then I realized I had no idea where I had gotten this information and was probably actually making it up. But it turns out I wasn't. Thank you, Wackopedia.

Speaking of penises (sure?), I watched this documentary on the Discovery Channel or something that was all about sex and the chemistry of love or something and it explained how men's penises are bigger now than they ever have been. Because, see, apparently big penises are more desirable than little ones (sorry to those with tiny peepees) and women are drawn to big penises on the most basic level and so they seek OUT the big penises. Therefore, men with big penises have more sex and more of a chance to procreate, leading to the ginormous schlong gene (scientific term) to be passed on to the son. Which creates more big penises for women to procreate with. I was telling Heidi about it and we decided we were glad to be living in such splendid times and she said that it would have sucked to be a pioneer woman because everyone knows that the only thing to do on the Oregon Trail besides hunt, cross rivers, and come down with Typhoid fever is have sex and I believe the phrase, "if the wagon's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'," might have been shouted but I'm not going to tell you who shouted it because I think you can probably guess.

and then I went back to my desk and made sure my post-its were organized by color and size

I'm in the process of switching jobs with someone at work. I'm taking over all of her duties (heh, duty) and she's taking over mine. I'm still in the process of getting organized, which is fine because I really like organizing things because I'm a tool. Yesterday, I finished using all these employee files, so I gave them to another co-worker because she needed to do some shit with them. That is the technical term.

Me: Here are those files.
Her: Great, thanks.
Me: No problem.
Her: Oh my god, did you put these in alphabetical order?
Me: Yes, why?
Her: No one else ever gives these to me in alphabetical order.
Me: Well, Coworker. Let me tell you something. I am incredibly anal retentive.
Her: Ha, well, you don't have to do that.
Me: You know what? I really can't help myself.