Wednesday, June 30, 2010

But the thing that makes Woody special is he'll never give up on you...ever. He'll be there for you, no matter what. [CUE SOBBING]

(this contains Toy Story 3 spoilers)

I don't have many childhood toys still in my possession, but I do still have some of my old stuffed animals, my favorite being the ratty, green stuffed bear that I've had since I was a baby. I call it my Dabbledoo, a name given to it when I started talking because I couldn't say "bear." But Dabbledoo, that I could say.

I took that bear everywhere with me. I took it to sleepovers, I took it to college, and I've taken it with me every time I've moved since then. I would take it on trips if I wasn't so terrified of losing it.

We took my sister to see Toy Story 3 last weekend. We loaded up with popcorn and soda, found the perfect seats (right in the middle of the theater) and waited through the previews. A family came in and sat a few rows in front of us. They had a little girl with them, she couldn't have been more than three or four, and she was wearing a Woody cowboy (cowgirl?) outfit and carrying a Woody doll that was half as big as she was. A man I assumed was her grandfather took her picture. When asked why, he exclaimed, "It's her first movie!" as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which, I suppose it was.

The previews soon ended, and as the lamp came out and smooshed the 'i' in Pixar, the little girl shouted, "oh no!" I looked at Joe and giggled. I hate it when people talk during movies (who doesn't?), but small children are exempt from that. I love that they get so wrapped up in the story that they can't help but shout out in excitement. In any case, she settled down when the short started and was quiet for most of the movie.

I'd heard Toy Story 3 was a tearjerker but I had no idea what was in store for me. Surely it wouldn't cause me to cry as much as Up, I'd (foolishly) thought. No movie has ever made me cry as much as Up. Up makes me cry if I even THINK about it too much.

But when the tears started, they wouldn't stop. And where did the tears start? Oh, you know, just when all the toys clasped hands and closed their eyes and WAITED FOR DEATH. That is heavy for any movie, let alone a movie made primarily for children, but never let it be said that Pixar pulls any punches. What made it worse was the little girl in front of us shouting, "Oh, no! Woody!" and I kept wishing I was three years old so I could shout the same thing.

Soon that disaster was behind us, however, and I thought the tears were over until Woody said good-bye to all of his toy friends. I was so wrong. The tears were not over. Not even close. I cried through all the good-byes, I cried through Andy's mom's tears, and I struggled not to sob AUDIBLY as Andy brought his box of toys to Bonnie and I almost gave up when he let go of Woody. Damn you, Pixar, why do you do this to me?

The movie ended and I was glad that they showed clips during the credits so I'd have time to compose myself but it STILL wasn't enough time. The little girl in front of us fared much better, she had Woody there to comfort her, but all I wanted to do was go home, hug my Dabbledoo, and beg forgiveness for all the times I'd ignored him.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

It was Rhode Island

This morning on the way to work, the people on the radio were asking listeners to call in and brag about their special talents because what else would they do? Play music? I don't think so. Anyway, some lady called in and said she could name all 50 states in alphabetical order in under a minute. I was all PFFT big deal, I once did that while walking past the reflecting pool and taking pictures of people making out in the grass and I sang that shit, too.

She messed up right after Ohio (loser) and was all, "shit!" and the DJ was like, "you can't say shit on the radio," which is stupid and dumb but whatever. So then I turned the radio down because I was going to show her how it was done. Nevermind that she wasn't in the car with me and would never know how badly I had shown her up, I WAS GOING TO WIN THIS GAME, IN YOUR FACE LADY ON THE RADIO! So I sang the state song once and was all, "ooh, BURN," but then I started to wonder if I'd forgotten a state and didn't realize it so I sang it again and counted on my fingers as I said each state. And I HAD forgotten one! Real quick, I sang it again and tried to figure out where it was missing and then I did and I sang the song again and counted for good measure and it turns out I am still awesome because I remembered all 50 that time. Whew.

The reason I know all of the states in alphabetical order is because I learned THIS song in third grade and I just now realized that it's a Ray Charles song. The hell? Really? Am I high right now?

Holy shit, you guys, I just started reading the comments for those song lyrics and they are amazing. First of all, people comment on song lyrics? OK. Sure. I've commented on stupider things. Things of baby monkeys. And I'm all, "that baby monkey is adorable, can I have it?" Which is weird and doesn't really add anything to the conversation, but seriously, just give me your baby monkey already.

Second of all, here are the best comments (I was going to make fun of the comments but I think most were written by actual 4th graders):


2. This song is famous! im in 4th grade and we have to sing it for chorus and i hate chorus like it gives me headaces but this song is like calm,fun,and easy(in a way)Everyone their was a kindergadernier singing this on youtube! i was like Umm how can he memorise it and i can't umm HOW!!?!??!?!?

3. Currently right now im in the 4th Grade and 4 and 5 grade does chourus 50 students from 4th Grade AND 110 kids in 5th Grade we always sing fifty nifty at the end and everyone loves it!!! They sing it in classes, recess,lunch, and at random times we make up our own parts and we dance to the song in chourus!!!! Its so joyful and fun. Thank you school systems.

4. This song is wieeeerd. I live in Georgia so at my elementery school, we at the end of the list of songs we go but Georgia is the best of the fifty nifty united states... Iit's also shorter.Don't you guy's love I mean love nick jonas? lol.Sorry I love Him.Anyways Ya'll gotta go!

5. i can't even express how many times this comes in handy. let's just say i wont a 50$ bet on a public bus for naming the states alphabetically in under 60 seconds

6. I am very flattered that everyone seems to like my song, but they're giving credit to the wrong Ray Charles for having written it. There are, or were, 2 Ray Charleses. I am the one who had the Ray Charles Singers with Perry Como for 35 years and I wrote the song as the theme for our "Salute the States" feature of our TV show. If you see my credit anyplace, it reads "the other Ray Charles".Incidentally, I sing the theme on "Three's Company".

Oh. Good to know.

Monday, June 28, 2010

It was just like say yes to the dress except I didn't spend $5000 and I (surprisingly) didn't want to stab myself in the eye

I didn't mention to anyone other than Joe and Heidi and my mom (because it wasn't really a big deal) but there was some wedding dress drama last week. Drama is too strong a word, really, because it implies tears and yelling and rending of garments, and there was none of that. It was more like wedding dress meh. Like, the wedding dress I ordered months ago finally came in, I tried it on, looked in the mirror and thought, "huh...that looks like ass." Then I took it off, started looking up dresses online, and the next day we boxed it up and shipped it far, far away.

Which meant I had to go shopping. Like, non-online shopping. Because the wedding is definitely less than three months away, I couldn't procrastinate anymore which is a shame because procrastinating is what I do best. I went to a bunch of non-wedding stores looking for a formalish white dress and found NOTHING. I didn't even find anything to try on. I went TO THE MALL for no reason. I hate the mall.

I tried to comfort myself by going into the pet store because, you know, puppies, but it really just ended up making me sad because of puppy mills and the puppies lying in cages looking at me with their forlorn eyes. They had this little poofball puppy out roaming the store, and when I bent down to pet it I wondered what would happen if I just scooped it into my arms and made a break for it. But then it peed all over the floor so I real quick ran away because what if I got in trouble? I told Joe this later and he looked at me incredulously (like always) and was all, "Jennie. You are a GROWN UP" and I was like, "Shut up with your lies!"

Anyway. This is all leading me to my real point (huh?) which is that I had to go to a for real bridal store yesterday. I refuse to call it a boutique. Whatever. When I realized I'd have to go to one of these places, a great wave of despair washed over me, like I was being swarmed by dementors. Dementors wearing big poofy princessy dresses and they were smothering me with taffeta and crinoline and I CAN'T BREATHE GET THEM OFF ME.

Ahem. It was not, however, all that bad. And that's coming from someone who doesn't even like going regular shopping. Which is not to say it wasn't a strange experience.

Picking out dresses was easy enough, although I had a better time making fun of the ugly ones with Heidi. But when it was time to start trying stuff on, the bridal store lady (hereafter referred to as BL) was all, "OK, what size bra do you wear?" which is kind of a personal question considering we'd just met. I usually like to know someone at least twenty minutes before I give out that information. I gave her a funny look and she explained that they'd provide a strapless bra (that actually resembled a corset) so the dresses would look better. I honestly didn't think it'd matter since most of the dresses I'd picked out were the wrong size ANYWAY but who am I to argue with a professional?

So she gave me the bra and said, "Put that on and tell me when you're done. I'll come in to help you try on the dresses," and I was all, "say what now?" because I don't normally invite people in the dressing room with me. Apparently it's like a rule, though, so soon I was standing in the dressing room in my underwear and the most uncomfortable bra EVER while two women I'd just met maneuvered dress after dress over my head. It was actually kind of nice because I didn't have to do any thinking and if there's anything I hate more than trying on clothes, it's thinking. Or something. Never mind.

I tried on about eight million dresses (give or take a million) and decided to get the last one I'd tried on, mostly because I liked it but partly so I didn't have to try on any more dresses. And everyone who worked there was very nice, but I almost had to punch one of them in the babymaker after this happened:

BL: Which dress are you getting?
Me: The last one.
BL: Oh, good! I saw the sparkle in your eye when you tried it on.
Me [in my head]: STFU.

Instead I just physically backed my way out of the conversation and wandered over to my mom, sister, and Heidi, who were giggling over a hair accessory that looked like a UFO. They are totally my people.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010


Touchdown Jesus was struck by lightning! And burned down! HE'S GONE!

I heard it on the radio on my way into work and drove by a few minutes later. It is nothing but a charred husk of what once was. So sad. Of course, right after I drove by, I immediately called Joe. Obviously.

Joe: Hello?
Me: Hiiiiii.
Joe: Did you see it?!
Me: YES.
Joe: Holy shit.
Me: What happened?
Joe: They think it was struck by lightning.
Me: Oh my god. It looks so weird. It's just like a black headless skeleton now.
Joe: Creepy.
Me: He is risen!
Joe: He is now seated at the right hand of the father.
Me: Do you think they'll rebuild it?
Joe: Better, stronger, faster than he once was?
Me: Haha, yes.
Joe: I don't know.
Me: Hahahaha, wait, you think they'll RESURRECT him?
Joe: Oh, Lord.

Monday, June 7, 2010

lazy Monday

I wish I could write about work right now but I can't because it would be FULL OF EXPLETIVES, which I don't really have a problem with but should any of my bosses stumble across this blog, I'd like to not have the eff word so blatantly tied to my job. Even though the eff word flies through my mind approximately 80 million times a workday but that is neither here NOR there so where does that put it? I have no idea.

Last week, my cousin graduated from high school and I have never felt so old. I was ten when he was born and he was my very first, so the fact that he is, like, an adult totally blows my mind. And it's only going to get worse because I have five more cousins right behind him, who'll all be graduating, one right after the other, for the next few years. I used to baby-sit them all. Sometimes all at the same time! Once I dressed them up like little superheroes because I thought it would be hilarious and awesome and guess what? IT WAS HILARIOUS AND AWESOME. They were so fun then and they're all growing up into such fun and weird and interesting people but I'm getting a little verklempt over here, so I'm going to stop talking about this now.

I had to go shopping yesterday, for work-related clothing that I wouldn't normally wear because it's, you know, way fancier than what I usually wear to work. But to tell you WHY I need to wear these clothes would lead to the expletives mentioned above, so I just won't. Don't worry, it's not very interesting so you're not missing much.

The shopping wasn't so terrible, I suppose. I buy clothes like a camel drinks water. Does that make sense? It makes sense in my head. What I mean is, I buy hundreds of dollars of clothing at a time and then I don't go shopping for like six months OR LONGER (usually longer), which is awesome because I hate shopping. I went to two stores yesterday and I think that was my limit. Until I walked into the bookstore and then it was like, "HEAVY SIGH I'm home," you know? YOU know.

We did end up at Target, however, which always seems to happen no matter what we leave the house for and this is fine with me. We went in to grab something all speedy quick and ended up deciding to register while we were there because I guess that's how you get all the free junk when you get married. It was so fun, you guys, I wish I could register everywhere, all the time, for no reason. Can you register at a bookstore? Because OMG.

Friday, June 4, 2010

also, why is the Baroness such a see you next tuesday?

I woke up this morning with that Do Re Mi song from The Sound of Music stuck in my head. I don't know why. I've stopped questioning these things. I have a different song stuck in my head almost every morning, as soon as I wake up, and it could be anything from Old McDonald (I KNOW) to Lisztomania.

But this morning my head was full of the vocal styling of Nunny Maria and like eighteen adorable moppets. There were eighteen of them, right? Whatever. So the whole time I'm getting ready, it's running through my head and at first I couldn't remember the order it went in. I was all Do Re Mi La Fa So Ti Do Bleep Bloop Blah Blerg. Which isn't how it goes, if you've never seen the movie. Why haven't you seen that movie, though? I love it with all my heart, I do, it's my favorite Julie Andrews movie aside from Mary Poppins (I typed Poopins before Poppins, I don't know what that says about me but I don't think it's good).

I finally got it right, though, and then I concentrated on remembering what each of the notes stood for which was difficult because I kept mixing it up with Homer Simpson's version. (I hope that's the right link. It's blocked at work so I have no idea. I'm sorry if I just took you to some video of, like, cats playing baseball except no, I'm really not, because that sounds awesome.)

Anyway. I finally remembered that it goes like this: Do, a deer, a female deer. Re, a drop of golden sun. Mi, a name I call myself. Fa, a long long way to run. So, a needle pulling thread. La, a note to follow So. Ti, a drink with jam and bread. And that brings us back to DO DO DO DO.

And La is totally the red-headed stepchild of that song. Poor La. Right, so then I got to thinking about the movie and how Maria is all, "when you read you begin with ABC, when you sing you begin with Do Re Mi," and she teaches the kids the song and all of the sudden they just know how to sing. POOF. Magic. But I'm pretty sure there was no magic in that movie, other than like looooove magic between Captain von Trapp and Maria, which you can see every time they look all googly eyed at one another because they are bathed in the soft light of WANTING TO GET. IT. ON.

I wish they'd had real magic in the movie, though. If they'd had magic, they could have turned that nasty a-hole Rolf into a toad and then stomped on him until he was nothing but toad guts and then flown away in their magical flying car instead of traipsing through the mountains to Switzerland or whatever. Is that where they were going? Switzerland? I don't remember. I'm also really bad at geography.

I know it's a musical and all and bursting into spontaneous song I can totally accept, but when they just are like SO GOOD at singing right off the bat? Bullshit. That would be like me learning the ABCs and then moving right along to reading Proust or something. Like, I think they skipped a couple hundred steps.

But whatever. I don't care, I still love the movie, don't get me wrong. I used to watch it practically every weekend when I was a tiny little child, and I'd also sing along to all the songs but I'd get mad at my sister if SHE tried to sing along and my god, my parents must have been so very, very patient. And then we'd switch to Mary Poppins and I'd sing all those songs, too, imitating Dick Van Dyke's cockney accent in my tiny little child voice and I'd wish my parents would hire Mary Poppins as a babysitter the next time they went out. Governess Maria von Nun would have been OK, too, but I think when I was little I thought that a governess was an ex-nun who moved in with you if your mother died and then married your dad and made you clothes out of curtains and stuff, sort of like Scarlett O'Hara but way less selfish and so my definition of governess wouldn't have worked in my situation. Which is fine, but my parents couldn't have hired an flying nanny JUST ONCE? I tried flying with an umbrella myself but I must have had the wrong kind of umbrella so it didn't work. I also tried jumping into my sidewalk chalk drawings but I guess I had the wrong kind of chalk, too? I don't know, maybe magic sidewalk chalk only works in Britain. Britain gets all the magic, it's not fair.