UPDATE: wind still blows

Heidi and I are still without power, as is much of Dayton. I came to work this morning and the only department that had power was IT, so I worked down there today. Well. This morning. My boss asked some of us to come in and take care of anything pressing and then we could leave. But then! Wouldn't you know it! The power for the rest of the building came on. Dammit. Although, what am I going to do at home? Sit in the dark by myself and cry? Probably. Also, read. But mostly cry.

Things could be much, much worse. I know I'm being whiny. We have hot water, so at least we can shower. I can go to Joe's to steal his internet or in case there's something really important I need to watch on TV. And my parents, who do not have power either, invited us over tonight to grill steaks so they don't go bad. They also have many, many bottles of wine and, while they won't go bad because of the power outage, we should probably drink them anyway. You know. Just in cases.

This just in: wind blows

Hi, guys. Did you know the world is ending? Because it is. The good thing is, because of the whole world ending thing, I didn't have to work today.

I don't know if you know this, but Hurricane Ike hit Ohio. Or something. What happened was, there was wind. Windy wind. Windy wind full of wind. And the windy wind full of wind blew and blew and blew my house in. Not really, but almost. We drove back from Cleveland yesterday afternoon and around Columbus we noticed that Joe's car was almost being blown off of the road. Which isn't normal, you know. Once we got to Dayton, the majority of the traffic lights were all out and it turns out no one in Dayton knows what to do when the traffic lights are out.

So, we went to my apartment and Heidi told me that the panel in my bedroom that leads to an attic or crawlspace or whatever had blown out AND SHE SHUT MY DOOR IN CASE BATS FLEW IN. After I recovered from my mini-heart attack, Joe fixed the panel because he could reach it, as he is freakishly tall.

Since the power was out, we had nothing to do but talk to each other. Which we did. And then around 6:30 we realized that A) we were hungry and B) we had no way to cook food. We met Heidi's friend Alicia at El Toro and wouldn't you know it? CLOSED. I guess they can't cook food without power and so everyone went home. Booooo! We got in Heidi's car to see if we could find somewhere, anywhere, we could get some food BECAUSE WE WERE STARVING TO DEATH. True story.

After driving around for 18 hours, we finally found another Mexican restaurant that had power. It was right next to a Wendy's that was also open, and the drive thru line was wrapped twice around the restaurant. We decided we wanted some chips and salsa more than a single with cheese, so we ventured into El Rancho Grande (Spanish for . . . the Rancho Grande). We were seated right away but we were there for about two hours, eating our way through three baskets of chips and 98 chimichangas.

Then, when we got home, the power still wasn't on. And Heidi and I don't have any flashlights, really, so we were using our cell phones to light the way through the apartment. But, no worries, Heidi found her Dr. Seuss fish flashlight and that helped.

Our power is still out and so is the power at work. I even tried to go to work today. How's that for dedication? It really had nothing to do with dedication, I was just hoping they'd have power so I could make coffee and check my email. When they told us the power wouldn't be on for the rest of the day, I decided to run through McDonald's really quick (see: coffee) and I called my parents to see if they wanted anything. An hour later, I finally made it up to the window to get my food, which went something like this:

Frazzled McDonald's Employee: Here's your food, but we had to brew more coffee. I'm sorry. It'll be a couple more minutes. I'm sorry.
Me: It's OK, I understand.
FME: I'm sorry. Can you pull over there and we'll bring you your coffee when it's ready? I'm sorry.
Me: Yeah! No problem.
FME: I'm sorry.
Me: No, it's fine, you guys are slammed.

[three minutes later]

FME: I'm really sorry.
Me: Um . . .
FME: We're out of coffee packets so we can't make anymore.
Me: . . . it's OK.

And then, for realsies, you guys, I almost burst into tears. It was OK, though, because I found a UDF that was open and got a ginormous coffee for only 99 cents. Now I am at Joe's mooching off of his electricity and internet and crossing my fingers that when I do make it home, I can turn on the lights.

Here's a fun picture of what the fun wind did:

this is what they actually believe

In case anyone is interested, there is a copy of The Book of Mormon in our hotel room. There's no wireless internet (wtf?), but there's a copy of The Book of Mormon.

Let me know if you have any questions.

even old New York was once New Amsterdam, why they changed it I can't say, people just liked it better that WAAAAAAAAY

I got the nicest email today. It was from some company/website called Beinggirl.com offering me free samples of pads and tampons. How kind! Nothing says "being a girl" like pads and tampons. I was really confused, though. Either some spam slipped into my Inbox or someone registered me for free tampons. So . . . thanks?

I'm headed to Cleveland again this weekend, this time for Amy's wedding. I am so prepared. I'm already (mostly) packed and I've printed directions from my apartment to the hotel, from the hotel to the church, from the church back to the hotel, from the hotel to the reception, from the reception to the hotel, and from the hotel to my apartment. And there's a shuttle from the hotel to the reception and back, so I don't even know why I printed those directions. Oh, right, because I'm A) a control freak and B) crazy. I know I don't need all those directions (because I do, in fact, know how to reverse them), but the thought that I have them JUST IN CASES gives me great comfort. Because I'm A) a control freak and B) crazy. But, um, what if our shuttle breaks down on the way back to the hotel after the reception? And our shuttle driver gets amnesia? People are going to be glad I have the directions.

Last night, as a result of a fender-bender (Joe) and random-nonsensical-sleep-deprived-slaphappery (me), Joe and I had the following conversation, or some version thereof, and NO, I don't remember how it started:

Joe [singing]: Darkwing Duck! When there's trouble you call DW.
Me: I always hated Darkwing Duck.
Joe: WHAT?!
Me: Whatever. What did you like better? Ducktales or Rescue Rangers?
Joe: Oooh, that's a hard one. I don't know.
Me: Did you ever notice that Rescue Rangers is just like Wings?
Joe: Um . . .
Me: Because there are two pilot brothers . . . and one is goofy and wears funny shirts and the other one is really uptight and straight-laced.
Joe: Right.
Me: And the mouse with the long, blond hair is Helen.
Joe: Oh my god!
Me: And the big, fat rat is Roy.
Joe: Yeah . . .
Me: And the little fly thing is either Lowell or Antonio, I can't decide.
Joe: That's amazing.
Me: Yeah. It's just a theory I've been working on.
Joe: It's pretty good.
Me [singing]: Darkwing Duck! Let's. Get. Dangerous.
Joe: Wow, if you hated the show, why do you know the song?
Me: Just because I hated it doesn't mean I didn't watch it.
Joe: I loved that show. Because it was about superheroes.
Me: Of course. My favorite was Tiny Toons. I used to imitate Babs on the playground.
Joe: Why does that not surprise me?
Me: Plus, there were those They Might Be Giants videos they made.
Joe: What?!
Me: Yeah. Istanbul. And Particle Man.
Joe: Hmm. Maybe that's the reason those are the only They Might Be Giants songs I know.
Me [singing]: Particle man. Particle man. Doing the things a particle can.
Joe [singing]: So take me back to Constantinople, no, you can't go back to Constantinople, been a long time gone, Constantinople, why did Constantinople get the works? That's nobody's business but the Turks . . .
Me: Whooooooaaaaa--whooaaa-oooaaa-oaaaaaa! Whoaaa-oooaaa-ooaaa! Whoaaaa-aaa-oooaaa!

True story. There was some talk of Launchpad from Ducktales but I don't remember that part. Wow, good story, Jennie.

overheard in the office

Normally, I don't talk too much on here about work because I don't want to accidentally post something that will get me fired. However, my job will probably be obsolete by January 1st anyway, so maybe it's better to get it out of the way (you know, the getting fired) now.

I have this one coworker, Norma (not her real name), who is in her sixties and sometimes gets up BEFORE the asscrack of dawn to bake things. Like, this morning, she brought in banana bread, which is my favorite bread of all the breads. I totally ate a million pieces of it and it was delicious. Later this morning I heard Coworker (the one who listens to conservative talk radio ALL. FUCKING. DAY) ask her about it.

Coworker: Norma, did you bring in this banana bread?
Norma: I did. I made it last night.
Coworker: It's really good!
Norma: Thanks. You know, I was stuck here until 7:30 last night, and when I got home, I made myself a martini. And then I saw bananas on my counter that were starting to turn brown so I thought I'd better make something with them.
Coworker: Well, that's the way to make them, isn't it?
Norma: With a martini? Hell, yes.
Coworker: Um. I meant with the old bananas.
Norma: Oh.

You guys, aside from the baking, I think I might be exactly like Norma in 40 years. Because, this one time? The new overlords -- I mean, the people who took over our company came to visit, and we were told that we all had to have this meeting and go around the room to introduce ourselves and explain our job functions. PLUS we had to give them an interesting fact about ourselves. Because apparently we're still in high school. Anyway, before the meeting, we were all standing around practicing what we were going to say. I decided against, "my name is Jennie and I volunteer with grieving children," because I didn't want people to throw things at me, and I bypassed, "my name is Jennie and I'm an alcoholic," because I didn't think the new overlords would think that was funny, so finally I landed on, "my name is Jennie and I write How To articles," but I decided not to talk about the time I wrote one about condoms. Anyway. There was a quiet moment where we all contemplated our interesting facts and then Norma grinned and said, "my name is Norma and I can suck start a Harley," and then I laughed so hard that my face fell off, even though I'm pretty sure she wasn't really talking about motorcycles.

Dear someone,

I would like a pet squirrel, please. Just like this one, which I would like to name Henry:



Did you see them chasing Henry with rakes?! Bastards.

Oh, Friday. Hello, lover.

Weather and work-wise, it's been a spectacularly shit-tastic day, and if it weren't for the fact that I heard a new Oasis song on the radio today (SQUEEEEE!!!) AND that my plans tonight consist of eating my weight in pizza and breadsticks and vegging out in front of a couple movies, I might have thrown myself out the window hours ago.

As it is, I have no real commitments this weekend, except maybe to gorge myself on Italian and Greek food (and wine . . . and beer) at various festivals, and that's perfectly fine with me.

The longest four-day week in history is over . . . YAY! Happy Friday, Internets.