Pam, I’m public speaking. Stop public interrupting me!

Hi, Internets! I'm not dead. I don't think. I have just been busy because A) work sucks but B) my life does not suck. Although, I had to miss the Rock Band reunion tour on Friday night because I was sick. But it's OK! Because there will be other reunion tours.

Speaking of being sick, I had a doctor's appointment at lunch and I have another doctor's appointment after work. And when I say doctor's appointment, I mean "doctor's" "appointment." That means I had to wear heels today. My doctor is very strict and says that heels promote leg strength and back pain . . . back pain sounds bad, but really it builds character. I've almost broken my ankle about fifty bajillion times, which probably also builds character, so that's good. I don't think I could wear heels every day because OW my feet hurt. But they make me so much taller. Hmm.

Work sucks mostly because of this massive software conversion we're in the middle of, and I mean RIGHT SMACK in the middle of, and no one knows what's going on and it's all very confusing and off-putting. Did you hear that? I am PUT. OFF. Because I might have to work this weekend. That's right, this hallowed THREE DAY WEEKEND. Anyway, the software conversion gods have provided this test database so we can practice fucking shit up (that is what I do) but the tutorial left a lot to be desired and so again . . . NO ONE KNOWS WHAT'S GOING ON. And even though we're all in the same boat and no one knows what they're doing, especially me because I never know what I'm doing, people keep coming to me with their questions. They're all, "Jennie, how do you do this? What does this mean? Can you come help me? Wash the dishes DO THE MOPPING CINDERELLY CINDERELLY," and then my head explodes and that's messy and who do you think has to clean it up? Cinderelly.

So the moral of the story is, I don't know what's going on and I keep accidentally spreading my ignorance all around the office, which isn't even in my job description.

Werewolf bar mitzvah, spooky, scary, boys becoming men, men becoming wolves

Guess what, you guys? Work is eating my soul right now. That is why my blog sucks. No, wait, that's not fair. My blog sucks because I am not giving it the attention it needs to flourish with sarcasm and obscenities. It's very sad, this blog neglect, but it happens far too often.

Yeah, I don't know what I'm talking about, either. Last night, we went to get some Mexican food for dinner and when I walked in, I noticed that they were having a special on Miller Lite and Bud Light. $1.95 drafts. I was all, "hell yeah!" and didn't bother to look at how many ounces it was. So I ordered it and almost passed out (from delight) when the waiter brought me this:



That is a shitload of beer for less than two dollars. I will have to remember that.

After dinner, we ran over to K-Mart, where we got distracted in the clearance toy aisle. OK. I'm going to show you something and you're not going to believe this is a child's toy BUT IT IS:



Yeah. I don't really know what the point of it is, but you put your mouth on that long, skinny, flesh-colored tube and when you blow, it makes the . . . body (?) of the toy get bigger. WHAT THE HELL, K-MART?

Then I almost bought some My Little Ponies. True story:



The end.

I got chocolate on my pants

and it looks like poo. Can I go home?

A woman shouldn’t have to be hit by a car to learn that she may have rabies.

When I got home from Cleveland on Sunday, our downstairs neighbors (Dan the Man and his daughter) were out on their porch, which is right next to our front door. I noticed something odd as I came up the walkway and that something odd was two baby raccoons. On their porch. Like . . . in a cage.

Me: Um. Are those raccoons?
Daughter: Yep!
Me: Why?
Dan the Man: Well, the mom died so we decided to raise them until we can release them.
Me: Oh. Cool.

Then we had a nice long conversation about how long it takes to raise raccoons and how smart they are and how you can domesticate them and then I got rabies and died.

Oh, wait, that didn't happen. Anyway, I emailed Heidi at work on Monday and was all, "did you know our neighbors are keeping raccoons on the porch?" and she was all, "WHAT?!" and I said, "yes, raccoons . . . on the porch . . . and they are smelly." And then Heidi sacked up and called the apartment complex. Naturally, since I was at my office and Heidi was at her office, I could not hear the conversation, but I was told it went something like this:

Heidi: Hi, I was walking by an apartment and they have raccoons on their porch.
Office Lady: Say that again?
Heidi: They have raccoons on their porch.
Office Lady: On purpose?
Heidi: Yes. In a cage.
Office Lady: Why?
Heidi: I don't know.
Office Lady: Who does that?
Heidi: Our neighbors.
Office Lady: Which apartment are you in?
Heidi: 5699*
Office Lady: Is this Heidi or Jennie?
Heidi: Heidi.
Office Lady: You guys have the weirdest stuff happen to you**.

Then she told Heidi that they'd be gone within a day. And today they are gone. I wish I knew what happened to them. I feel bad because I didn't want them killed or anything, but if anyone in the apartment complex is going to accidentally get infected with rabies, it's gonna be me or Heidi. I mean, we had to take precautions.

*note: not our actual apartment number

**see: broken garbage disposal; upside-down oven knob; broken toilet; broken front door lock

they see me rollin', they hatin'

You guys, this weekend went so fast. SO FAST. It seemed unfair. It might have seemed SO FAST because I drove to Cleveland and back in less than 24 hours. No, wait, it was EXACTLY 24 hours. Anyway. Whatever. I left Saturday afternoon for Cleveland to go to Amy's bachelorette party. The weather was perfect for a road trip. Warm and sunny, but not TOO hot. I could still drive with the windows down, only I hate to do that on the highway because it's too loud and then I can't hear my music.

And I WANTED to hear my music, because just moments before I left for Cleveland, the mailman brought me a package from Abigail. She sent me a running CD because I whined last week about not having any running music. I figured running music would also make good road trip music, and boy was I right. It's a good CD, is what I'm saying. And then! There I was, flying down 70, when Track 7 started and I completely lost it . . . no kidding, I almost drove my car off the road, I was laughing so hard. Because I heard the beginning of "Ridin' Dirty," which always makes me think of that time Heather Anne told a stranger at the gas station that "riding dirty" meant someone was traveling with contraband. Awesome.

I loved this bachelorette party, by the way. It was very un-bachelorettey. Amy didn't want any penis-related stuff to wear or strippers or anything, so it was very low key. We went to a Japanese steakhouse for dinner, where our chef sang us rap songs and ALSO I caught a shrimp in my mouth. You'd be more impressed if you knew how uncoordinated I am. Then we went to a dueling piano bar, where there were approximately 80 other bachelorette parties, only these bachelorettes were whores, according to Amy.

I think I'm getting more mature in my old age, because I watched how much I drank Saturday night. I KNOW. I didn't want to drive home all hungover because that is the worst thing ever. Even worse than riding the plane from Philly all hungover. See how much I've matured in the past three months?

I'm about to do something very bold at this job that I've never done before. Try.

I've sort of gathered from everyone I've spoken to that this is the week from hell. Also known as "WORST. DAY. EVER. week." Well, friends, it's almost over. Because it's Friday. Also, payday. And even though at the end of work yesterday, we got news that this huge project has been moved up and I will be working very, very hard for the next couple of weeks, I'm just pretending that didn't happen. Because it's Friday. Also, payday.

This is what I had for dinner last night (in order):

caramel fudge brownie
beef tenderloin and green beans
lobster bisque
tuna sandwich appetizer thingie
cheesecake

We went to The Taste of The Greene and there were approximately 80 bajillion people there. It cost $10, and I was a bit worried about getting my money's worth (on account of the 80 bajillion people), but then this lady came around handing out tickets for free burritos at Chipotle.

FREE BURRITOS AT CHIPOTLE. So, after we ate all that other food and gave the remainder of our tickets to Tamara and Jeremy, we got in line at Chipotle and there weren't even that many people there! I mean, yeah, the line was longer than the lunch line usually is, but FREE BURRITOS, people! I expected the line to be out the door and halfway down the block. Apparently these people do not appreciate the FREE BURRITO. Or they just hadn't made their way over there yet. Either way, I have a FREE CHIPOTLE BURRITO for lunch today.

Also, I forgot to share a really embarrassing story yesterday, and I sort of can't believe I forgot because it caused extreme mortification for approximately three weeks.

Once upon a time (high school), I worked at the library. And one night, when I went into the breakroom, some lady (I think it was a lady, I don't really remember) was back there. I thought she was just someone's friend. And then she was all, "what would you do if aliens landed on the Earth?" and I was like, "well, I would ask them to take me home with them and make me their pet," because I am incapable of giving a serious answer to any question. And she was all, "I need to take your picture now," and I was all, "what?" and she was all, "this is for the newspaper," and I was like, "fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck." But I let her take my picture, because I am also a people pleaser. And I was in the paper talking about how I wanted to be ET's pet. And that's all I heard about from everyone I knew for the rest of my life. Or about three weeks. Whatever.

you don't have to wear that dress tonight

Yesterday was Jeremy's birthday (of Tamara and Jeremy) and so last night we celebrated with a surprise party. It was also my dad's birthday, but he wanted to hold off on celebrating, surprise or otherwise. We quickly established that, although Jeremy and my dad have the same birthday, Jeremy is not, in fact, my father. There was some confusion for a while, though.

When we got to Tamara and Jeremy's, I noticed that there were decorations on the front door. I was all, "um, won't that tip him off to the surprise?" and Heidi was like, "yeah, he's here . . . he's in the bedroom." Apparently some girls were totally mean to him ON HIS BIRTHDAY (read about it here) and he was sad. Stupid girls. Luckily, there were lots of people and food and drinks and ROCK BAND to make up for the bitchy, bitchy girls he works with.

Have you ever noticed that when Rock Band makes an appearance, everyone gets this manic look in their eyes? A greedy, manic look like, "I WANT TO PLAY ALL THE INSTRUMENTS AT THE SAME TIME AND ALSO SING AND OH MY GOD WHAT IF I DON'T GET TO SING WEEZER?" I'm not kidding. That game turns people into drunk five-year-olds and have you ever been around a drunk five-year-old? If you've been around me when I'm drunk, then that's close enough.

It was pretty awesome. Heidi remembered to strum. We discovered that Tamara is a fucking awesome singer. I got to sing Oasis. Sting inhabited Joe's body for the entirety of Roxanne. It was a little spooky.

This week on The Collective, we're sharing embarrassing stories about ourselves. I'm having a hard time coming up with anything, despite having embarrassed myself on a daily basis for about, oh, 25* years now. A little help? Heidi?

*I say 25, because I couldn't really talk for the first year . . . although, when I was a baby I did routinely poop my pants and that's sort of embarrassing.