gonna fly this boat to the moon somehow

I have sand in my shoes. Sarasota sand, to be specific, and it's such a tease because it's about 30 degrees outside right now. I was wearing these shoes on New Years Eve, which I suppose still doesn't explain why they have sand in them SO HERE GOES.

Joe and I went to Florida last week to visit Lampl and Jon, who moved down there last year to live by the ocean and get away from the Ohio winters. I can't say that I blame them, all the warm weather would be nice, although I think I might miss watching Max play in the snow. But, really, their move was our win, too, because we now have somewhere to stay that's within walking distance to the beach.

We ended up driving down because plane tickets were waaaaaay more expensive than gas, which is kind of sad, really, considering gas is at least three bucks a gallon at the moment. We drove over two days, which ended up working really well because we got to stay in two different hotels, which meant I had two different ice machines to find and play with. Mmm, ice.

We stopped to get gas at some point once we got into Florida and when we got out of the car, it was too hot for a jacket. TOO HOT FOR A JACKET. IN DECEMBER. You would have thought that we'd just witnessed some Harry Potter magic or, like, a band of pixies lift up our car and fly away with it, such was our wonderment. And EVEN BETTER, when we got to Jon and Lampl's, we discovered they had stocked their fridge FULL of Yuengling.

(Sidenote: Guess who forgot to buy any Yuengling on her way out of Florida? THIS KID. Sigh.)

Anyway, when we got there, Lampl was all, "We booked a sunset cruise for all of us on New Year's Eve...it's free...and we get free drinks...but we don't have to do it if you guys don't want to," and I was all, "Lampl, what about that sentence leads you to believe we wouldn't want to do that?" So we did that. And despite all the free drinks and the rocking of the boat, none of us fell overboard. Whoo! We still had a few hours to kill until midnight once we got off the boat, so we hung out at Jon and Lampl's for a bit (after restocking their fridge with beer), ate some pizza, and then went to the beach for midnight festivities.

Once there, we plugged in an iPod, blasted some Girl Talk, and rolled up our jeans so we could frolic in the ocean. The frigid, frigid ocean. I don't know what happened, but I think that beach was some kind of time machine or was blasting immaturity rays or SOMETHING, because we spent most of our time there running around like tiny children hopped up on sugar and caffeine AND CRAZY PILLS. I have been told that I'm like a belligerent (and energetic) four year old when I'm drunk, so maybe it was catching? I don't know. I DO know that when we got there, I started running around in circles, and then we asked for some fireworks from some people down the beach (which we couldn't light on account of the wind), and then Danielle's bra fell off, and then we ran some more, and then we all pretended to be velociraptors and T-Rexes (with teeny little arms) BECAUSE OF COURSE WE DID. We gathered around someone's phone at midnight and I think we celebrated a minute early but whatever, that just meant we got an extra minute of celebration.

We got lost trying to find our way off of the beach, Lampl dropped five beers, and we played a bit of Beatles Rock Band before everyone fell asleep. I got super sad face when we left, not just because it meant I would have to go back to the cold and my job and, you know, REALITY, but because I was leaving behind the warmth and the fun and my BFFs, all of whom were headed in different directions, ALL HOURS AND HOURS AWAY from each other.

But I still have some sand in my shoes, the same shoes I was wearing to ring in the new year (well...they were sitting on the blanket while I ran like a crazy person through the surf, but I think it counts), so I'd like to think a part of me is still on that beach, shouting with laughter (and dinosaur roars), just happy to be with people I love.

Remember that show The Pretender? I loved that show. Good story, Jennie, tell it again.

Sometimes I wish I could time travel just to go back in time and punch Past!Jennie in the face.

Three Hole Punch Steve got married this weekend. The ceremony was at Wittenberg, as both the bride and groom went to Witt, and many college friends descended upon the campus. As we were waiting for the ceremony to start, I was struck by this weird thought or feeling or...I don't know, but it is WEIRD to see us all coupling off and getting married. We who used to streak the hollow. We who once snuck into the sorority house snack closet through a window above the locked door just to get ramen noodles. We who scaled a fence to go swimming at 4 AM. We who once (twice!) walked to Lake Michigan from Mary's apartment with a case of beer to watch the sunrise, chase joggers through the park, go to IHOP, then sleep a couple of hours and go out and do it all over again. How are those people ALLOWED to get married? I still feel like I'm pretending to be an adult most of the time. Does that ever go away?

Anyway, what that all means is I didn't do a very good job at pretending I'm an adult on Saturday. I mean, I acted like an adult because you have to be an adult to buy alcohol but I didn't act like a RESPONSIBLE adult. Which is fine. Being responsible all the time is highly overrated. Except, not really. Who wants to be responsible all the time? If I was responsible all the time, then I wouldn't be able to watch three episodes of Veronica Mars in one evening or eat a chocolate chip cookie for breakfast or, I don't know, have any fun ever.

It was a fun wedding, although I'm pretty sure we were seated in the troublemaker section. That's OK, it just proves that Steve A) knows us well and is B) smart. For instance. There were bottles of wine on all of the tables that I guess were meant to use for the toasts, only we drank ours right away and there was only a tiny bit left for toast time. Oops. I don't know what else to say about the reception, other than the food was yummy and there was dancing and laughing and GENERAL MERRIMENT and I now have a picture of Joe and Steve slow dancing.

I also have a picture of like, the million beers we all drank, which made getting up early on Sunday SUPER FUN. That always sucks because for one thing, you feel like arse and for ANOTHER thing, you have no one but yourself to blame. Except I sort of blame Miguel on account of any time anyone has less than a half a cup of beer, he was all, "YOU NEED A REFILL!" If that doesn't sound like a recipe for disaster, I don't know what does.

murder most foul

This weekend began with a rainy baseball game and ended with a murder mystery. Joe and I met my parents on Friday at Brixx, a restaurant/pub type thing across the street from the stadium. We were really pushing it to make it to the 7 o'clock game, but as the sky was turning a little Angry Thunder Face, we decided to eat dinner and drink some beers before heading over. As my dad pointed out, beer is cheaper at Brixx than it is at the game, and who am I to argue with such logic in this economy?

So I ate a burger topped in salsa and jalapenos (YUM) and somehow we ended up with not one, not two, but THREE baskets of chips and queso and try as we might, we just couldn't eat all that cheese. We gave it a good effort, though, even turning our waffle fries into CHEESE waffle fries and later that night I realized that I should not eat so much cheese in one sitting. IT'S SO GOOD. Shut up, stomach, you'll eat 10 pounds of cheese AND YOU'LL LIKE IT.

Anyway, we got rained on at the game PLUS ALSO they lost PLUS ALSO I swear to everything holy there were bats flying around but everyone was all, "no, Jennie, they're birds" but they've never been traumatized by a bat so their opinions don't count.

Because of the whole rained-on thing, any plans for a postgame drink were abandoned because as much as I like bars, I do not like sitting in them when half of my butt is encased in wet, slowly-drying jeans, so instead Joe and I changed into pajamas and watched Aliens and I might have whimpered like a little girl in parts but OMG YOU GUYS, Kat was right, aliens are effing terrifying. True story.

We saw Inglourious Basterds on Saturday, which ALSO might have made me whimper like a little girl in parts but that is because Quentin Tarantino is a sick bastard (basterd?). Good movie, though. I read a review somewhere that described Brad Pitt as "Coen-brothers perfect" and that might be the most apt description of his performance, like, EVER. My point is, you should definitely go see it, just be forewarned that you may never look at Ryan the Temp the same way after you've seen him scalp someone. Um. Spoiler?

And then Sunday. What to say about Sunday? I thought about working out after I saw Joe's brother Facebook that he had just signed up for a 5K, but instead I sat under a blanket and read my book for most of the afternoon. I eventually dragged myself off of the couch so I could get ready for the BBQ/Birthday Party/Murder Mystery Party that Joe's friends were throwing. All I have to say is, whoever assigned the characters must read this blog because part of my character's description was about how she tells long, rambling stories that go nowhere and if that's not the theme of this blog then I don't know what is. It turns out that the butler doesn't always do it because, in this case, THERE WAS NO BUTLER and also I discovered I suck at murder mysteries because I mostly just sat back and giggled at everyone, forgot to pay attention to any of the clues, and guessed myself as the murderer just because I had no idea.

Later we played cornhole and I did better at that. For one game anyway. But I totally counted it as exercise because I was, you know, standing and holding a cup and stuff. I meant to get up early this morning and work out, but the fallish breeze was blowing in and it was so warm under the covers that I couldn't drag myself out of bed any sooner than I had to.

Tonight, Heidi and I are going to Nancy's for wine and pizza and catching up, because I'm trying this new thing where I drag the weekend kicking and screaming into the week so I don't notice that it's Monday. It would be a lot more effective, I think, if I wasn't sitting at work right now.

don't care how, I want it now

In just a bit, Joe and I are going to go meet my parents and various other family members at a beer tasting. What, what does your family do to bond? We're headed out in 90+ degree weather even though a person with any common sense at all would just go buy a bunch of beer and have their own mini-tasting at home and soak up the AC. I've never claimed to have common sense, though.

I'm going to try and be on my best behavior, but I'm sort of afraid I'll end up running around like Veruca Salt in the chocolate factory. You know, a bit like this:

SPOILER: this post has no point

I feel like I'm neglecting my blog. I suppose it's because I am, especially compared to the days of yore, when I would post approximately eight times a day whether I had something to say or not. Things seem really busy right now, because, um, they just do, what with the changing jobs and the upcoming move and whatnot. My parents are out of town this week, and my sister is home with the dog so I've been visiting them every other day or so, and OF COURSE I'm taking her to a bar tonight. What else are big sisters for but supplying their younger siblings with free booze? Advice? I think not. I suck at advice. Anyway, last night we got dinner and then watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 and wouldn't you know it? Those pants traveled all over the place AGAIN! I actually totally heart those movies because I like all the actresses and also it makes me cry like 80 bajillion times and you know what? Sometimes I like for a movie to make me cry. Not like Hotel Rwanda cry, though. It took me about 24 hours to recover from that.

Tonight marks the fourth night this week I will be drinking and compared to weeks past, this is WAY WAY more than normal. Granted, the only night of drinking that led to drunken shenanigans was Wednesday night, and that was for RESEARCH. Or something. It led to this, anyway, and that's better than what most of my drunken escapades lead to, WHICH IS: yelling, running away from people, trying to climb things, sending mean emails, ETCETERA ETCETERA. Does everyone else think of Yul Brynner when they say/think that? I do. EVERY TIME.

On Monday, Wayne and Nancy had us over for steak and mashed potatoes and beer mug shaped cookies and on Tuesday, I volunteered with The Children, who did not want to talk about their dead loved-ones but INSTEAD wanted to play hide-and-seek-tag (wtf?) and throw Jenga pieces at each other, PLUS it was St. Patrick's Day and so obviously the only thing I could do once I left volunteering was go have some beers with my friends. I tried not to be too offended when Steve left 10 minutes after I got there but WTF STEVE? Why do you hate me? Hee.

It's not just my blog I'm neglecting. Aside from Lost, I've watched very little TV this week. I haven't even watched last night's episode of The Office and the weirdest thing is I DON'T EVEN CARE. I'm not sure what kind of TV-apathy disease I'm suffering from lately, but I'm sure it'll pass. Although, I kind of hope it's permanent and that's scares me because it's like I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE.

I do know one thing, though. And it's that I. LOVE. CAPS LOCK.

Me fail English? That's unpossible!

Firstlies, take this quiz. I missed the first question (DAMMIT) but got the rest right. Thank you, Kat, for sharing this quiz and ALSO for telling me to wear red today for good luck. So far, so good. My red shoes are squeaky, though. What's that about? We have to wear these work badges around our necks on lanyards (much like the freshman leashes we wore our keys on in college . . . what?) and I also have this token on mine that bangs into my badge every time I take a step. So when I walk it's like, "smack smack smack" unless I hold onto my badge so the badge and token stop banging each other FOR FIVE SECONDS OH MY GOD. Anyway, today I'm squeaking when I walk and my badge and token are banging and it's all very loud. My point is, I can't sneak up on anyone at work, which is unfortunate. I'm very good at sneaking. And then jumping out! And scaring! Ask Joe. This one time I think I almost made him pee his pants a little because I jumped out from the dark and went "AHHHHH!" It was like that time Derek Zoolander went into the coal mine. You know? YOU know.

Now it is time to completely change subjects. Heidi's family had a memorial service for her grandpa yesterday, and I spent the majority of it pinching myself to take my mind off of crying. Someone once told me that if you're about to cry and you pinch the fleshy part of your hand between your thumb and forefinger, it will make you stop. I don't really know if it works but I kept doing it yesterday. Of course, then I wanted to cry because I was pinching myself, but whatever. Give Heidi all your hugs! Now!

Good news, everyone! Tam's grandpa is on the mend. That doesn't mean you can stop thinking good thoughts. Oh no. Think MORE good thoughts. They're working.

Also, happy birthday to three-hole-punch Steve. Congratulations, my friend. Today you are a man. (I don't know)

I feel like I did a lot this weekend. I think because both Friday and Saturday nights I was out PAST TWO IN THE A.M. Amazing, yes? It's like I remembered I'm not 80 and also that bars stay open that late. Even more amazing is that I was not drunk at ANY of these bars and I didn't fall down at all. That is both amazing and unprecedented. We saw some bands Friday night (and met Sad Captain) and on Saturday, while we were waiting for Heidi and her coworkers to finish their bowling tournament (you heard me), we sat in a dark corner of a busy bar, drinking Miller Lites, listening to a not-terrible rock band, eating cheese con queso, watching two men and a woman play grabass with each other in front of the dartboard, and trying to figure out how to turn on the flash on my camera phone. That last one was an EPIC FAIL but the rest worked out quite nicely. Last night, my parents fed me dinner and my mom gave me a billion pieces of kitchenware. I spent a great deal of last night reorganizing the kitchen to make room for the new dishes. This means I now have a lot of stuff to either put in storage or give to Goodwill. I'm leaning toward giving it all to Goodwill. Except for the fish plate. Lampl would kill me if I got rid of the fish plate. Do you like how I'm being all enigmatic about the fish plate? No? OK.

In other news, this week on The Collective, we're supposed to write about embarrassment and failure. I'm having a hard time narrowing down which embarrassing story to tell. Sigh.

This is more random than usual. I'm sorry. Wait. No. I'm not sorry at all.

sad captain

Last night, Joe and I watched a really bad Lifetime movie. We were just killing time, trying to decide whether or not to go out and see this band, and I came upon the Lifetime Movie Network. A movie was just starting. A movie starring Leo's daughter from The West Wing. If that's not reason enough to watch a movie, I don't know what is. It was about date rape. And also it was awful. Toward the end, Leo's daughter was all, "I want to get back together with my ex-boyfriend -- even though he didn't believe me when I told him that his best friend raped me." That was the point where I started shouting, "No! No, Mal! Go find Sam Seaborn! He'd totally believe you if you said you were raped! He is a gentleman!" True story. Ask Joe.

And then, around 10, when the movie was over, we decided to head to the bar even though my normal bedtime these days is around 11 (at the latest). I was a little worried about possibly being out really late and then I told myself to shut the eff up because OH MY GOD I'm 26, not 107. So we went to the bar and made fun of the awful awful first band, and then sort of enjoyed the middle band, mostly because the lead singer A) was very sweaty, B) looked like Adam Brody, and C) had a voice that did not in any way look like it should be coming out of his tiny, skinny body. By the time the third band came out, I had a nice mixture of beer buzz and delirium going on, so I started taking pictures and videos with my phone. My favorite video is of Sad Captain. He had wavy gray hair and a big, fluffy beard, and when I first saw him, he was sitting at the bar, staring forlornly at his beer with his cheek resting on one sad hand. He became Sad Captain when I saw that he was wearing a navy blazer with gold buttons all down the cuffs. Just like Cap'n Crunch! It totally looked like he was on shore leave or whatever, but only for the weekend, and he couldn't get ahold of any wenches so that's why he was sad. The end.

they call me The Jackal

Did you know that Thanksgiving is next week? Well, Thanksgiving is next week. I'm not doing anything crazy this Thanksgiving, like running a race or driving 896 hours to DC, because I'm working the day after Thanksgiving. I'm OK with this (no, I'm not fuckshitdamn). I am, however, attempting the unimaginable. I'm cooking something for Thanksgiving dinner.

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUN!

Alright, FINE, I'm only making the green bean casserole. And for some reason my mom already bought all the ingredients, so I just have to go over and mix them all together. I realize green bean casserole is like, the easiest thing EVER to make, but last time I asked if I could make anything, I was put in charge of bringing the rolls. Bring them I did, and they were delicious, but I wanted a bit more responsibility this year, especially since I will most likely end up eating at least half of the mashed potatoes.

Speaking of food, I forgot it's the time of year where I eat nonstop. Crap. Like, yesterday, we had a carry in for someone's birthday. I brought macaroni salad (bought, not made), and there were deviled eggs and appetizers and fruit and BBQ chicken and OH MY GOD the best broccoli cheese soup I have ever had in my entire life. Today my boss is ordering pizza for lunch and I'm going to try and avoid it since I had pizza for dinner last night, but if it's really good pizza, I'm not sure I'll be able to. There are also leftover bagels and muffins that we stole from the IT department's meeting yesterday. What, it's not like they were going to eat it. They don't even eat. They survive on coffee and cigarettes.

My point is, I picked a bad week to forget to work out. (Forget, heh.) So I should probably do that tonight. And tomorrow. And then it's the weekend, so all bets are off, because my friends will be here and, this is just a guess, but I think they'll want to do all manner of unhealthy things, what with the eating good food and drinking good booze and . . . that's pretty much it. I'll barely have time to sleep, let alone work out. Please. Priorities, people.

Long Island iced teas are way stronger in Canada

Last night, Whitney was in town which was GOOD because she lives in Chicago and we don't get to see her often enough. But she had to go back this morning to go to a bowling party for a four-year-old which is BAD on soooo many levels.

We spent our time wisely, though, drinking wine and eating Penn Station, for you see, there are no Penn Stations in Chicago so that is Whitney's food of choice whenever she's in town. This is obviously fine with me, as the young men at the Penn Station by our apartment know Heidi and I by name.

And then, of course, there was Wii. We began with Rock Band but Nancy soon wanted to open her newly purchased Guitar Hero: World Tour. We played that for a while, and I'm still not sure which I prefer: Rock Band or World Tour. The drums on World Tour are FAR, FAR superior and the songs are very good. I almost lost my voice belting out "Livin' on a Prayer" and was the only one who knew "Some Might Say," although there were technical difficulties when I tried to sing "One Way Or Another" (the microphone was plugged into the wrong hole HAHATHAT'SWHATSHESAID).

But. While the instruments on World Tour are better (the guitar has a slide thingie and I don't know how to use it or anything, but I'd imagine it'd be fun for more experienced users), I prefer the layout of the actual Rock Band game. I think I'd recommend waiting for the next wave of World Tour, whenever that may be, before buying the first version. I'm sure they'll be making improvements.

Plus, Nancy has this WHOLE OTHER Rock Band song list that included "More Than a Feeling" and "All the Small Things." Hello, that's awesome.

I didn't mean for this to turn into a commercial for Wii, but I can't help it. Sorry, but deal with it. It's Saturday, what do you want from me? I managed to do a load of laundry so far today PLUS ALSO enroll in my benefits for next year. This is good, because we're running a report at work on Monday to see what lazy employees haven't enrolled yet, and I'd hate to be the only slacker HR lackey on there. Close call.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go make a grilled cheese sandwich and then maybe JUST MAYBE play some Guitar Hero. Good day to you, Internets.

I SAID GOOD DAY.

bloo dee bloo bloo

Every time I turn on TV Land, Third Rock from the Sun is on. It's bizarre. Isn't TV Land only supposed to show, like, I Love Lucy 24 hours a day?

I made up for all my productivity yesterday, what with the book-buying and the working out and the showering, by doing absolutely nothing today. I did manage to shower, but only because I'm supposed to go to dinner with Joe and his parents and a bit, and I didn't want to smell like booze.

The bachelorette party ended up being more bachelorette-y than we'd initially expected. The bride had said she didn't want to be out really late, so Heidi and I were expecting to be home somewhat early. This didn't happen, and as Heidi and I were halfway through our second pitcher, we realized that neither one of us could drive us back home. And so . . .

Joe to the rescue! Seriously, if anyone has any doubts that Joe is the nicest guy ever, he proved you wrong last night. You jerk. He drove 35 minutes to go pick us up at our old college bar, which was quickly turning into dance party central (there was even a line outside . . . and if you've seen this bar, you know how ridiculous that is), and then he drove us home while Heidi and I talked and giggled constantly (and loudly) the entire ride back.

I'm pretty sure Joe and I had this conversation a couple of times:

Me: Do I smell like smoke?
Joe: No, you smell like booze.
Me: So I don't smell like smoke?
Joe: No. You definitely smell like alcohol.
Me: Good. You're sure I don't smell like smoke?

So you see why showering was so important today. Now I should probably go get dressed. Bye, Internets. I hope you're having a good weekend.

I AM SOFA KING NERVOUS

Hi, Internets. Did you vote yet? I hope so. Even if you voted for the wrong person (hee), I think it's important that you vote. At least then you can complain for the next four years if your candidate loses. Hell, you can complain for the next four years if your candidate wins. That's what's beautiful about this country -- you can complain as long and as loudly as you want and no one gives a shit. Hee.

I wish I'd gone to vote early this morning, because then I could be drinking free Starbucks right now. But that would have meant I needed to get up even earlier than I do already, and that thought makes me want to cry. So I'll go at lunch, and if there's a long line and I have to miss work, so be it. It's the least I can do for my country. Actually, the least I could do for my country would be to NOT vote, but again . . . see above, re: complaining.

Heidi and I ended up tossing out the "watching the returns from a bar" plan when I suggested we just make chili and invite people over. Dude, people love chili. Also, beer. And cornbread! Mmm, cornbread. I wish it was time for chili now because that would mean I'd already voted, work was over, and it was time for the results to start coming in.

We made the chili last night and it looks so good. I wish I could invite you guys over. I mean, if you want to travel all the way to Ohio, then go for it. The more the merrier. You know, just bring extra booze because we only have so much of it and I know how much some of you can drink. Heh. Heidi went to the grocery last night to buy another can of beans, because we were worried we wouldn't have enough, and while she was gone, I decided to dice the onion. First I had to Google "how to dice an onion," NOT that I couldn't have figured it out on my own, but I like to follow directions. That's a lie. I had no idea how to dice an onion, other than to start chopping the shit out of it with a knife. I had to take a couple breaks because it was making me CRY, CRY, CRY, sort of like how I cried four years ago when W was reelected. Once the crying stopped, my friend Katie called me from DC and the conversation went something like this:

Her: Hey.
Me: Hey. What are you doing?
Her: Oh, you know. I'm just standing in front of the White House. Staring.
Me: Yeah.
Her: The Metro was really quiet today.
Me: I'll bet.
Her: This sucks.
Me: Yeah. I'm gonna go back to sleep.
Her: OK.
Me: ...
Her: ...

It was a depressing day, is what I'm saying. Also, I live blogged the election last time. I might do it again this year. If I remember. Heidi, will you remind me? You know how my brain forgets things. It can be the "Jennie and Heidi live-blog the election show." We'll be famous. FAMOUSER. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Onions. They were making me cry. And when Heidi came home, she was all, "holy lord, it smells like an onion exploded in here," and she was right. Even this morning it still smelled like onions, despite the fact that I ran through the apartment spraying Oust everywhere and lighting candles and opening windows. Damn, Gina.

Last night, I also did the 30 Day Shred video again and didn't want to die quite as much as I did the first time. And I'm not as sore today as I was before, so . . . yay. And then I watched like four episodes of Lost because did you know they show it on Sci-fi now? Awesome. It still doesn't make any sense, but that's why I love that show. Also, Matthew Fox is hot, even though Jack is really annoying. My favorite one that was on last night was the one where Hurley is in charge of the food, and he gives it all away in the end and it totally made me cry. Or maybe it was just the onion.

Dwight thinks it's Friday...so keep that going

I had this plan all worked out today, to use the time change to my advantage and miss work. See, I was going to SAY I came in at 7, which I thought was 8, and when I saw that no one was there, I assumed it was Sunday and went home. And THEN I was going to sleep in and call work around, say, 11? And tell them I thought it was Sunday THEREFORE, I'd be in whenever I goddamn well felt like it. I was informed that this was a bad plan, as my boss would think I was either A) a liar or B) really, really dumb and I think I'd get fired in either case.

Whatever, I slept the crap out of that extra hour, so I guess I got everything out of Daylight Savings Time that I'm going to. Hey! Guess what? I've decided I love NaBloPoMo. Not because I have to write some crap everyday, but because OTHER people have to write some crap every day. This means my Google Reader is never empty. Not that my Google Reader is EVER empty, but let's ignore that part.

OHMYGODYOUGUYS. Guess what tomorrow is! I'm not sure why I'm so excited about tomorrow, given my track record. Never have I ever voted for a winning president. It's enough to make a girl to vote for McCain tomorrow. That's crazy talk, of course. I'm trying not to be superstitious, but I can't help it. I'm afraid to be optimistic on account of, um, the past two presidential elections. I thought about voting early, but Heidi did and waited FOUR HOURS in order to vote. She's such a good citizen. I find it incredibly uplifting that so many people are voting early. In the end, I decided not to vote early because I like to vote on election day. MOSTLY so I can wear my "I Voted" sticker around all day like a big nerd. After the voting is all over, we're gathering at a bar to watch the results come in. My thoughts are, if Obama is winning, I'll need a celebratory drink and if McCain is winning, well . . . I'll just need to be drinking period. Sigh.

Moving on. Because I am incredibly open to suggestion, I purchased this, after I read about it on some blogs. People were all, "this is so hard!" and I was all, "that's what she said!" and then I bought it. And you guys? It is so hard. That's what she said. I did it on Saturday (that'swhatshesaid) and I am still sore (that'swhatshesaid). It's a good thing I bought it, though, because this is what I ate this weekend:

Cousin Vinny's Pizza
Sonic
Spaghetti Warehouse
Penn Station
Clancy's

We went to Clancy's last night for dinner, and Heidi ordered us some deep fried cheese. Because, see, they were out of deep fried pickles. And then I got some Buffalo Balls (boneless buffalo wings) with hot sauce, and they were pretty spicy so I had to wash them down with some Miller Lite. Then my tummy kind of hurt for the rest of the night. And that is why today I am not going to eat anything deep fried. Tomorrow, though, that depends on the election results. I may be drowning my sorrows in more than just a pitcher of beer.

Hey, all right, Ross came as Doody!

We celebrated Halloween a bit early this year, dressing up on Saturday and hitting both the Oregon District's HauntFest and a Halloween party hosted by a walking taco. The festivities started around 8, even though Heidi was still sewing her costume. I mixed up some black punch (grape Koolaid, orange Koolaid, ginger ale, and vodka) and maybe should have used less vodka and more ginger ale. We even made a frozen hand to put in the punch, but the fingers melted really quickly. Also, Joe broke most of them off when he dropped it into the bowl.

Joe and I made a pretty accurate Charlie Brown and Lucy, Steve ended up as . . . you know, I'm not really sure. Heh. After adding a red jacket to his ensemble, he soon became Chas Tenenbaum, and later on that night, Steve Holt. But the real star that night was Heidi, whose Rainbow Brite costume was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life. There are pictures of her and Steve Holt/Chas Tenenbaum, as well as Charlie Brown trying to kick a football, but they're all on Heidi's camera. Sorry.

Down at the Oregon District it was, well, really fucking cold. We didn't stay long, but we were there long enough for Willie Nelson to call me a bitch. As in, "Charlie! Don't let that bitch pull the football away again!" which was ridiculous, because I think at this point Joe was the one carrying the football. See, when I've been drinking, I tend to lose things and my dad has had the football for 96 years and would probably be really upset if I lost it.

Once we got too cold to wander the streets, we ended up at a house party, complete with hot cider, keg, bonfire, and Sarah Palin. Sarah had lots of babies with her, and eventually most ended up in the fire. I'm not saying Sarah Palin likes to burn babies, I'm just telling you what I saw with my own two (somewhat drunk) eyes.

My sister text messaged me yesterday evening, asking what I was doing. I wrote back "nothing," but a more accurate answer would have been this:

I slept til 11, got up and went to Wendy's for lunch, came home and took a three hour nap, did some laundry, showered, put my pajamas back on, watched TV with Heidi, and got El Toro carry out for dinner.

So, yes, it was a bit of a lazy Sunday. I wore pajamas for most of the day, only changing out of them to go to Wendy's, El Toro, and later to buy pumpkins for more pumpkin carving tonight. I heart Halloween so hard.

Will someone get this big walking carpet out of my way?

I don't want to alarm anyone, but if you have Time Warner and you live in the Dayton area then RIGHT NOW YOU DON'T HAVE NBC. It's not really a problem yet, but it'll be a big problem if it's not back on Thursday because I'll have to go burn down the Time Warner building and I just don't have that kind of time. I'm not exactly sure WHY we don't have NBC right now, but it has something to do with the affiliate wanting more money and Time Warner not wanting to pay any more money. I don't know whose fault it is but I'm going to blame Time Warner on account of I HATE THEM. I hate them with the fire of a thousand suns. Yes, I DID steal that from 10 Things I Hate About You. Your point?

Yesterday, we went to Oktoberfest for the first time in a couple of years. We didn't go last year because we were at a wedding and the year before we got too drunk to get there before it started raining. I'm pretty sure I wrote about that night (yep) because it was not one of my finer moments. But whatever. Bygones.

I ate bad-for-me food and I drank bad-for-me beer yesterday, but it was well-deserved because on Saturday I both went to work and THEN went running. We also saw Tropic Thunder and I got a chocolate milkshake from Graeter's, so you could say THAT was my reward for going to work and running, but you could also just shut up and leave me alone. So there. I know I sound cranky but that's just because it's not the weekend anymore. It was a really good one, aside from the working. Best part? Last night, a kid at Kroger was imitating Chewbacca. It was magical. And I almost stole him. But I didn't. In case you were worried.

orange mocha frappuccino!

Are you guys all using Google Reader? Please tell me you are. Except, if you all tell me you ARE using Google Reader, I'll know you're lying because I know for a FACT that there are several of you out there not using it. This blows my mind. It's just like when I find out people aren't using Gmail. Are you guys all using Gmail? If you're not, please tell me and I'll send you an invite because I have 90 bajillion of them and then I'll make fun of you for a while, but it'll be OK, really, because you really should be using Gmail. You brought this on yourself.

Here is why you should be using it: your friends share things and you get to read them. And your friends will share awesome things like that David Duchovny has entered rehab for a sex addiction (WHAT?!?) and this (which will not be funny unless you've seen Zoolander).

So, for the love of pancakes, please start using Google Reader. Please? I mean, if you spend any time on the internets whatsoever, this will really organize your time-wasting. Trust me.

In other, real life, news, last night Heidi and I met Nancy at Fox & Hound because Nancy told us they had this yummy raspberry beer there. And they did. And we also got food. Because, you know, it was dinner time and the last time I had nothing but beer for dinner, I wound up hanging out with random British guys in a hotel lobby at 4 AM. True story.

When Heidi and I got there, I started digging through my purse for chapstick or something, and so I was pulling stuff out and putting it on the table. Said stuff included a book. Some manager dude came over to check on us, because we didn't have a waitress yet.

Manager Dude: Has anyone said hi to you yet?
Heidi: Nope.
Manager Dude: OK, well, hi. Oh, what are you reading?
Me: Um.
Manager Dude: I'm nosy.
Me: Persuasion. Jane Austen.
Manager Dude: Oooooh. So you're reading that for school, yeah?
Me: . . . no.

Last night, I also went to Kroger to buy ramen noodles (JOE) and I looked for Uncrustables, Abigail, but I couldn't find them. What aisle are they in? I did find chocolate covered pretzel 100 calorie packs, though, so YUM.

Then we watched Obama speak the hell out of some words. Today McCain is in Dayton to announce his running mate. I'll let you figure out which of those things I'm more excited about.

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.

cause you said the brains I had went to my head

I love going over to my friend Nancy's house, and I'll tell you why. Not only does she live in a grown-up house with a zillion rooms (including an office and a fancy dining room and a Wii room and, I don't know, all the other normal rooms), BUT she is always prepared for any event. For instance, just in case you need freshly made popcorn, she has a for-real-honest-to-goodness popcorn machine on her kitchen counter. If you're in need of a frosty beverage, just open her fridge and you'll find everything from Pinot Grigio to PBR. And if Nancy invites you over for hot dogs, don't be surprised when she pulls out all the fixings. It's not just ketchup and mustard at Nancy's house, oh no. It's ketchup and regular mustard and spicy mustard and two kinds of relish and pickles and Skyline chili and Skyline hot sauce and all the shredded cheese you can fit on your wiener (HAHAHAHA).

It's no surprise that Nancy's house is stocked with whatever you need. When I lived next door to her in college, we were always in her room, even though in order to sit anywhere (couch, bed, floor, didn't matter), you'd have to clear off a stack of clutter. But it was worth it, because she always had some new contraption to try, like that time she bought a cotton candy machine. Or that other time she bought a sno-cone maker. Or that other time she bought a popcorn popper. Or that other OTHER time when she bought a deep-fryer.

So of course Nancy's house is the best house ever and now that she's a wife, it's always free of clutter. Heh. Well, at least it is when we come over. Last night, after a delicious dinner of hot dogs, potato salad, and corn on the cob (which I did not partake in, because I don't like getting it stuck in my teeth SHUT UP LEAVE ME ALONE), she made us Bazooka Joe drinks (see?!) and asked if we wanted to play Rock Band. And after playing for, I don't know, a couple hours, we opened the next batch of songs to see that MY LIFE WAS NOW COMPLETE because it included Don't Look Back in Anger. Which I sung. On expert. And still scored 86%. I have no idea how the scoring works for the vocals once you start moving past the Easy setting, but I'm pretty sure my Expert 86% means I'm ready to go on tour. So, Liam. Noel. Call me. We'll talk.

nobody ever told her it's the wrong way

Last night, a while after Heidi had gone to get her manicure (I was invited, but (and I know this will surprise you) I decided not to go), my phone rang.

Heidi: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Heidi: Do you want meet us at Bar Louie?
Me: Bar Louie?
Heidi: Yeah, we're gonna get dinner and drinks.
Me: Awesome, I'll be right up.

And up I went, because not only had I written my 300 words for the day, but I'd ALSO written an article. I mean, I would have gone up there anyway, but I felt far less guilty since I'd actually done some work. And you guys? If you thought the 123 GoBox was good, just HOLD ONTO YOUR MINDS BECAUSE I AM ABOUT TO BLOW THEM. Wow, that is like the poorest choice of words EVER and you'd think I'd delete them and write something else but YOU'D BE WRONG. Get used to it. Um, right. So, Bar Louie was having a special. One. Dollar. Hamburgers. And not like those pussy, little sliders from White Castle, either. Real-sized hamburgers. The toppings all cost like 50 cents extra but who cares? The hamburger (plus bun) was only $1. Which made up for the fact that our beers cost $6. But whatever, who cares, that beer was delicious.

I have no idea what my point is, except that if your friends call and ask if you want to come to the bar, you always say yes. Because you will be rewarded in hamburgers. Cheap, delicious hamburgers.

Also, beer.