YOU GUYS

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, no...do you think they'll RESURRECT him?
Joe: Oh, Lord.

a glimpse

Last night, Joe and I made quesadillas for dinner but really they were more like tostadas, if I'm being completely honest. And I might as well be completely honest because why lie about quesadillas? If you can't be honest about quesadillas, what CAN you be honest about?

I took them out of the oven and we transferred them to plates so we could cut them into fourths. Because that makes it easier to eat with your hands and why wouldn't you want to eat with your hands? Why are you so fancy? Who are you trying to impress? Plus, eating with your hands is awesome. Anyway, since he is a gentleman, Joe started cutting my quesadilla before his and then this happened:

Me: NOOOO! STOP! You're cutting it wrong!
Joe: ...what?
Me: If you make them the same size, how will I know which one to eat first*?!

And that's when Joe started pounding his head on the cabinet (for real) and laughing at me and I was all, "...I'm mostly kidding," and he was like, "IT'S THE MOSTLY THAT WORRIES ME," and this is what it's like to live with me, right, Heidi?

*If I cut stuff in half (or fourths, whatever), I have to cut them in different sizes because I have to eat the smallest piece first OBVIOUSLY. Shut up.

baby otters, obviously: a play in one part

Joe: I heard something on the radio about baby otters today.
Me: Oh, tell me!
Joe: They said that they're really mean.
Me: That's a dirty lie!
Joe: Um, no, it's not.
Me: Baby otters are nice.
Joe: No, it said they're mean and their jaws are five times as strong as a pit bull's. Soooo, maybe having one for a pet isn't a great idea.
Me: Whatever, I still want one. And anyway, my baby otter will be nice.
Joe: How do you know?
Me: Because it will like me.
Joe: It's a wild animal, Jennie.
Me: It doesn't matter. I'll train it from birth.
Joe: OK. Sure. What happens when it bites your hand off?
Me: It won't do that. Why do you want my baby otter to hate me?
Joe: IT'S A WILD ANIMAL.
Me: If it tries to bite me, I'll spray it with a spray bottle.
Joe: It's an otter! It lives IN THE WATER.
Me: So, it still won't like getting water sprayed in its face. Trust me, I will train it so good.
Joe: Oh, so you'll just overrule Nature?
Me: Um, yeah, when has that EVER backfired?

Confession Tuesday: (look, I remembered!)

Back in January, Joe and I had this conversation:

Joe: Did you know Vampire Weekend is coming to Ohio?
Me: NO, WHEN IS IT?!?
Joe: Oh, well, it's sold out.
Me: NOOOOOOOOOO!

Fast-forward to a few weeks ago:

Joe: Can I tell you what I got you for your birthday?
Me: No, I want to be surprised.
Joe: ...please?
Me: I guess. If you really want to.
Joe: Remember how Vampire Weekend was sold out?
Me: ...yes.
Joe: Well, I found tickets.
Me: AHHHHHHHH!!!!

So last night, Joe and I went to see Vampire Weekend because the responsible thing to do four days before moving is to go to a concert. But whatever, it was awesome. It made me want to bop around or run around in circles like a tiny, yappy dog. In fact, there is a certain part of Mansard Roof that makes me want to twirl around in circles with my arms stretched out and when I told Joe, he told me I should do it but I didn't want to smack anyone in the head because that would ruin their concert experience, which really wouldn't be fair because they probably paid good money for the concert unless they were like me and had someone awesome buy them the tickets for their birthday.

This brings me to my confession and that confession is: The only reason I listen to any good music is because either Kat or Joe told me to listen to it. Truth!

What do you want to confess today, Internets? Come on. Get it off your chest.

Know what else? I had a bison burger for the first time last night. It was so delicious. I'm not sure if it was more delicious than most hamburgers I've had because of the restaurant or because it was bison, but I don't really care. It was a bit weird to be eating bison, though. I don't know why. I sort of felt like I was on the Oregon Trail and I'd shot some bison during a hunting expedition and was enjoying the fruits (meats?) of my labor. Although, usually when I played Oregon Trail, all I ever shot were squirrels and then I died of cholera. Not cool. Anyway. I think what I'm saying is, last night was way better than shooting squirrels and dying of cholera.

How It Happened or: Joe is a Big Liar

Here is what I thought was going to happen last night: I was going to go over to Joe's and we were going to go to his apartment complex's Christmas party for the free food (obviously) and then we'd watch Lost (Season 5!) or something for the rest of the evening.

That is not what happened (again I say: obviously). When I got to his place, I opened the door to find music playing softly in the background (David Berkeley) and candles lit on the coffee table. "Hmm," I thought. "This is unorthodox."

Joe was in the kitchen and I walked in to find him standing over noodles and spaghetti sauce on the stove. Cheesy garlic bread was cooking in the oven (I could smell it) and when Joe offered to pour me some wine I said, "sooooo, we're not going to the Christmas party?" and he was all, "duh, moron, no," only he didn't call me a moron because he's nicer than I am. Apparently, he took a half day yesterday to get everything ready but pretended to still be at work in his emails to me so I wouldn't suspect anything. Sneaky.

Dinner was ready soon after I got there so we sat down to eat at the table, complete with candles and flowers (daisies: my favorite, plus also "Don't you think that daisies are the friendliest flower?"). At this point, I wasn't thinking much of all the special treatment because A) I'm an idiot and B) it was our year and a half anniversary, so I thought that was the reason for all the awesome.

I no longer remember anything we talked about during dinner because of what followed, just that Joe didn't eat much and I babbled so much that it took me twice as long as him to finish my meal (this is standard). While we were eating, he said, "I made you something," and handed me a CD he'd made with ALL CLAPPING SONGS ON IT. I know this might make no sense, but a long time ago, I told Joe that songs with clapping in them were my favorite because they're so happy and fun and blah blah blah OMG GUESS WHAT SONG HE PUT ON IT. Guess! OK, never mind, he put That Thing You Do on it! I love that song!

Anyway, where was I? Oh. I put the CD far away so I didn't get salad dressing or spaghetti sauce all over it, because that is something I would definitely do. I finally finished eating and we were still sitting there talking when he was all, "I made something else for you," and pulled out this little book. It was a comic book that he'd drawn in this style, which: awesome. There weren't any words, so I narrated the pictures as I looked at it: "Oh, look, it's us! Oh, Boston Stoker, our first date! Ooh, we're watching It's Always Sunny! Aww, we're holding hands. Oh, hey, you're down on one knee in this one..." and then he got down on one knee IRL right next to me and I put the book down because my hands were shaking and it was apparently time for me to start crying (dude, Jennie, pull yourself together) and Joe was holding a ring and it was all very surreal. So then, you know, he asked and I said yes (biggest OBVIOUSLY ever) and there was hugging and more crying on my part and Joe was all, "omg stop," because I don't really cry so it probably freaked him out. Then I worried about whether or not the ring would fit (because worrying, that is what I do) and wouldn't you know it? It totally did. Which is weird, because it was his grandma's ring so it's not like he could specify the size. And it's not like I could have even told him the size because I never wear jewelry SO I DON'T EVEN KNOW what size ring I wear. I'm so bad at being a girl sometimes.

Since that whole thing was settled, it was time to start calling parents and whatnot. Actually, we gave ourselves a bit before we called anyone so we could drink champagne and focus our thoughts because I was all, "What do we do now? How does this work? Should we Google it?" We each spent the next hour calling various people, and then texting various people, and then updating Facebook, which is kind of like a business transaction. I mean, once it's on Facebook, it's totally official, no backsies.

At some point, he was all, "I have another surprise," and I thought he was headed toward the library (which I was told NOT to go into earlier in the evening) and for realsies? I thought maybe there was a puppy in there. But no, it turned out to be a little chocolate cake, which is almost as good. When I told Joe that I thought he'd gotten a puppy, he was all, "um, don't you think it would have barked or something in the two hours you've been here?" and I said, "I don't know, I didn't put that much thought into it, I just got excited about a puppy."

So then we ate cake and I drank more champagne, probably more champagne that is OK for a Monday night but I thought since it was a special occasion, I got a free pass. And now it is today and I told my coworkers this morning, who all wanted to hear the story and I'm still really excited which means it's been really hard to get anything done today. Also, I had caffeine this morning for the first time in over a month and so that is why this post is so jumbled and nonsensical, because that is how my brain feels right now. OK, bye!

NaNo Day 17

I think all this novel writing business is starting to affect my brain. For instance, I just typed "tarting" back there instead of "starting." I'm not sure what tarting is. It sounds like it's when you get all whored up to go out to bars and stuff and then you meet up with your friends and they're all dressed casually so you're like, "wtf, guys?" and they're all like, "we just didn't feel like tarting up tonight." That's what it sounds like. That, or like you can't say "farting" correctly. Anyway.

Yeah, so there's that. And then last night, Joe and I had this conversation:

Me [singing]: Working on my night cheese!
Joe: What? What's that from?
Me: I'm not telling.
Joe: Is it from 30 Rock? It sounds like it's from 30 Rock.
Me: Maaaaaaaaybe.
Joe: Is that a yes?
Me: Maaaaaaaaybe.
Joe: Dammit, Jennifer.
Me: Working on my night cheese!
Joe: Yeah, it's from 30 Rock.
Me: Night cheese sounds really good right now.
Joe: OK.
Me: The best thing about night cheese is that it's FORBIDDEN.
Joe: ...what.
Me: Because, see, you're eating cheese late at night. And eating lots of cheese makes people poop a lot. Or does it make them constipated?
Joe: Both?
Me: So anyway, you eat all this delicious cheese EVEN THOUGH you know it'll make your tummy hurt but you don't care because it's so good and that's why it's forbidden.
Joe: ...
Me: Also, you have to steal it from homeless kids.
Joe: There it is.

Word goal for the day: 1667
Words written today: 2201
Total goal: 28339
Total written so far: 31606
Words ahead/behind goal: +3267

and you CAN make wine from dandelions, HEIDI*

Joe and I have dumb fights, Part 1:

Me: I wish I had a baby elephant...
Joe: This should be good.
Me: Because! I could train it and then...ride it...to work.
Joe: OK?
Me: I would feed it bananas.
Joe: ...
Me: And whiskey. Elephants like whiskey.
Joe: You can't ride a drunk elephant to work. You'd get pulled over for drunk driving.
Me: Nuh-uh, because the elephant is drunk, I'M not drunk.
Joe: But the elephant is driving.
Me: No, because I'm steering the elephant so it doesn't matter how much whiskey it had.
Joe: ...that makes no sense.
Me: BESIDES, I wouldn't give the elephant enough whiskey to get it drunk. Just enough to give it a little buzz.
Joe: Oh, so you'll be riding a buzzed elephant to work, that's so much better.
Me: Why don't you want the elephant to be happy?
Joe: I don't even think elephants like whiskey.
Me: Yes, they do, I read it in this book. This elephant in the circus used to steal whiskey. And watermelons.
Joe: Yeah, like everything you read in a book is real.
Me: WHAT DID YOU SAY?!?

Joe and I have dumb fights, part two:

Me: It was really hard to write today.
Joe: Oh yeah?
Me: I can see why so many writers are alcoholics and drug addicts, because it's way easier to write when you've had something to drink. Cause you don't care if what you're writing is any good.
Joe: So are you gonna start doing drugs?
Me: No. I'm just saying. Lots of writers are drug addicts and alcoholics.
Joe: True. Hunter S. Thompson.
Me: Stephen King.
Joe: Beverly Cleary.
Me: Yes! I mean, a mouse riding a motorcycle? COME ON, BEVERLY.
Joe: And Ramona? She's crazy. And who has a sister named Beezus?
Me: YOU SHUT UP, RAMONA CALLED HER SISTER BEEZUS BECAUSE SHE COULDN'T SAY BEATRICE!
Joe: Yikes.

*see here and HERE

I speak over two thousand languages, including Dodo and Unicorn. I had a classical education.

The Universe is totally telling me to get a puppy. Look at this Super Exciting Opportunity that I received in my Gmail today:

From: Troye Lincoln
To: Me
Subject: Adorable Puppies Available!!

Hello, My name is Troye, I got your e-mail address from the email surfing marketing affiliated with the US chamber of commerce. Am mailing to let you know i've got some puppies am willing to adopt to a loving and caring home because I don't have the special time they need anymore due to my job. I have a female English bulldog and a male Yorkie. These puppies have got great personality and I will love to let you know that they are not just a puppy but a baby for you. These babies participate in the house jobs and we are teaching them to understand human language. They have this great personality like human. Kindly let me know if you are interested. So I can email you the pictures and more info. Thank you for taking your time to read the advert. Reply to: i_want_to_give_you_puppies@awesome.org.

So I think I should write him back, yeah? Hee. I mean, I know it's Spam, but it came to my inbox and when I first saw it, I was all, "NOOOOOO! I can't get a puppy right now, STOP TEMPTING ME!"

I don't really want an English bulldog or a Yorkie, anyway, although I am tempted now that I know they are learning to understand HUMAN LANGUAGE. I wonder which human language they're learning. It'd be cool to have a puppy that spoke French, but I don't speak French, so how would I talk to it? Plus! They participate in house jobs? Does that mean they clean the bathroom? Because I hate cleaning the bathroom.

Anyway, it would seem that the theme of this week is ANIMALS ARE CUTE AND AWESOME because you know what? Animals are cute and awesome. I need to unsubscribe from The Daily Puppy and Zooborns because my heart explodes on, like, an HOURLY basis and it takes a long time to clean that up, you know?

Still, I'm POWERLESS against animals IRL. Presented with pretty much any four-legged creature, I melt into a puddle of stupid-voiced goo and spend ten minutes telling a chipmunk how adorable it is and that, DON'T WORRY, everything will be OK, Jennie is here to take care of you OMG WHY DID YOU JUST POOP IN MY CAR.

See: chipmunk.

It's not just four-legged animals, though. Last night, while Joe and I were waiting for our Chinese food (yum), I stared at a group of ducks for SO LONG, I thought Joe might get up and leave me there.

Ducks:



Convo:

Me: Where did they all come from? Why are they out there?
Joe: I don't know.
Me: There are SO MANY.
Joe: Yep.
Me: OMG! One of the ducks? Had something hanging from its bill. And another duck ate it! Haha!
Joe: ...
Me: One of the ducks sat down. Like PLOP.
Joe: ...
Me: Another one sat down.
Joe: ...
Me: There went another one! The way they sit down looks painful. They just flop.
Joe: ...
Me: Haha! That one? The one that ate the thing off the other one's bill? The thing it ate is hanging off its bill now!
Joe: ...
Me: Now like half of them are sitting. One just peed.
Joe: ...
Me: I think that one is sitting in its pee! Gross.
Joe: ...
Me: Also, they're pooping everywhere.
Joe: That's why I'm not looking at them.
Me: Ew, I just saw one poop. I'm going to sit down now.
Joe: Good.

All of this leads me to believe that I need a pet of some kind. Phoebe is alright but she won't let me cuddle her and this one time she puked on my bed. I'm leaning toward a mini pig because OMG SO CUTE. Look. I'll wait. Heather! Anne! says I should get two, so they can be BFFs, which is a good idea because even mini pigs need BFFs. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go think of some names for my new mini pigs.

word salad

Last night, on the way home from work, I totally saw a coyote on the side of the road. At first I thought it was a kangaroo, because of the way it was limping (poor wild dog thing!) but it was definitely a coyote. I was on the phone with Joe at the time, and we had one of those conversations where I'm talking and talking CRAZY TALK TALKING and he is laughing and laughing at The Crazy, because what else do you do? We have these conversations a lot. Anyway:

Joe: OK, well --
Me: OH MY GOD, THERE'S A COYOTE ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD!
Joe: Really?
Me: Yes. It's a coyote!
Joe: Is there really a coyote? Or are you making this up?
Me: Why would I make that up?
Joe: Because of that time you pretended that you saw a coyote AND THEN said you talked to it.
Me: I would never lie about seeing a coyote.
Joe: Jennie!
Me: To you! I lied on my blog, that doesn't count!
Joe: OK.
Me: At first I thought the coyote was a kangaroo.
Joe: Um. What?
Me: Because of the way it was limping . . . it was sort of hopping.
Joe: Hahahahaha!
Me: I was far away!
Joe: Hahahahaha!
Me: It's not that weird! One time an ostrich escaped from the zoo or something and was running around Kettering!
Joe: Hahahahaha!
Me: So a kangaroo could have totally escaped STOP LAUGHING!

Yeah. I didn't get a chance to talk to the coyote (sorry) but I wish I had so I could have asked what happened to his little coyote leg. If I had to guess, though, I'd say he got in a fight with kangaroo.

Scotch and Splenda. Tastes like Splenda, gets you drunk like Scotch.

You guys, I had the weirdest dream last night. I dreamt I was on Lost island and I was running around the Dharma Initiative village with Juliet and then Ben shot an arrow into my hand. It did not feel good. It was a tiny arrow, though, and when Juliet pulled it out (heh), there was a hole in my hand. Also weird. Anyway.

I blame the Guinness I had with dinner, because whenever I have a glass or two of beer in the evening or whatever, I always have crazy, vivid dreams. You know, like getting an arrow shot through my hand. OW. I know it was only a dream, but I really think going through that whole ordeal, what with the bleeding and the pain and THE ARROW STICKING OUT OF MY HAND, made me a stronger person. If I ever for-realsies get shot in the hand with an arrow, I think I'd be OK. I hope my brain doesn't know something I don't. Like, what if it knows that sometime in the future, I get shot in the hand with an arrow? And it's trying to prepare me for it. I don't know why I'd be somewhere that I'd get shot in the arrow. Maybe it happens in the Zombie Revolution that is sure to occur in the next 20 years or so. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Maybe it wasn't the Guinness. I also had a Monster Grilled Cheese sandwich AND Pub Fries covered in 10 pounds of cheese, so maybe the cheese made the dreams. It was a lot of cheese. Like, all different kinds of cheese, too. I mean, I really like cheese (all kinds) but this was just A LOT of cheese all up in my business. Yep, I'm still talking about cheese.

Anyway. Last night, we went to see a live taping of Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me, and it was really cool even though they made fun of Dayton the whole time. I don't blame them, really. Dayton is very make-fun-able.

Next week is my last week at this job, and after watching The Office last night, I realize I've been TOTALLY WASTING my two-week-notice-immunity period. Apparently I should have been throwing stuff at my coworkers, mixing disgusting drinks, and planning to start my own paper company. Oh well. There's always next week. Maybe I'll totally Hef it up and wear pajamas and a robe every day.

So, Joe got a Blackberry the other day and keeps expressing his amazement that HE HAS THE INTERNET! ON HIS PHONE! Seriously. The Internet. On the phone. Yesterday he was all:

Joe: I'm gonna blog about how I have the Internet on my phone.
Me: OK.
Joe: Do you think I can get a whole post out of that?
Me: Um, I've gotten whole posts out of far less.

Example: see above.

Dear The Universe, I love you. Please be nice to me. Love, Jennie

So far, today is the best day ever. I hope I'm not jinxing myself by saying that. I mean, it's not like I'm saying, "Today is going to be the BEST. DAY. EVER." because I have no idea if that's true or not, and every time I say that, The Universe comes and takes a big dump all over my life so I am DEFINITELY NOT SAYING TODAY IS GOING TO BE THE BEST DAY EVER, UNIVERSE, OK? LEAVE ME ALONE, PLEASE.

Ahem. Last night, I made Joe take time out of working, even though his deadline is on Monday, because someone was coming to buy my old computer desk. I sold it on Craigslist, and the guy buying it seemed normal, but you can never really tell and I thought if my 6'5 boyfriend was there, the guy would be less likely to bash me over the head, kidnap me, and sell me to pirates. It all went very smoothly, which was good because I was supposed to be at my parents', partly so they could show me how to give the dog her 800 pills and ear medication while they were on vacation, but mostly so they could feed me dinner. Joe tried to be all, "I could go over with you," and so I had to be all, "NO! You have a deadline! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?" and he was all, "But what if there's Guitar Hero?" and I was all, "My parents are not going to want to play Guitar Hero -- they hate it because they suck at it," and he was all, "But --" and I was all, "Procrastinator! Stop it!" Seriously, you guys, he is worse at procrastinating than I am and THAT IS REALLY BAD.

I know that sounds mean, but I'm really way meaner. For instance, on Wednesday, Joe came over and made me dinner. He even said he'd clean up EVEN THOUGH he'd cooked everything while I sat on the sofa surfing the Internets. I stood in the kitchen with him while he cleaned and everything was fine until he started loading the dishwasher. I stood there, watching, as long as I could and then I had to put my hands on the side of my head to keep it from exploding BECAUSE HE WAS DOING IT WRONG. I had to make him stop so I could do it. And then I took out all the dishes he'd put in there and loaded them CORRECTLY. So, yes, he came over, brought all the food, COOKED all the food, and offered to clean everything up and, in return, I berated him for not loading the dishwasher the right way. Say it with me, everyone: CONTROL. FREAK.

Anyway, so I sent Joe home to work and then I went to my parents' house. When I got there, my dad had his work laptop out so I started making fun of him for working on his vacation AND THEN my mom told me that, no, he wasn't working, he was signing up for Facebook. My mom, sister, and I all helped him in this endeavor and now we've created a monster. He sent friend requests to a bunch of people and went to work updating his profile until it was time for dinner. We had pizza (and wine), on TV trays so we could still watch Ellen (that's right), and every time my dad's computer dinged, signaling a new email, he'd quickly look down to see what Facebook was sending him.

"SIGH," said my mom. "What now?"

"I don't know," my dad answered. "Oh, someone just wrote on my wallpaper."

tell me again about the rabbits, George

I recently started the Couch to 5K program because I hadn't gone running since, um, way before it was even too cold to go running, and I quit the gym a long time ago so I didn't have access to a treadmill EITHER. That's sort of a lie, because Joe's apartment complex has a fitness room and he said SEVERAL TIMES that I could use it whenever I wanted but I'm far too lazy to do that. So I didn't. Anyway, I'm on Week 2 and it's going well, mostly because weeks 1 and 2 don't involve as much running as the rest of the weeks, which is awesome because sometimes running makes me want to die. Not this program, though. This program is my friend. We go to the mall together and then get ice cream. Ha, just kidding, I hate the mall. Shopping gives me hives.

Anyway. I went running yesterday because OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS, the weather was perfect. Sunny and warm and beautiful. It was a little windy but I'll take it. After I finished the program, I decided to keep walking because I wanted to see the ducks at the pond. I love the ducks. They're so cute! Sometimes when they cross the street to the pond, I get worried that they might get hit and I have conversations like this:

[in Heidi's brand new, shiny car]

Me: Look! Ducks!
Heidi: I like them.
Me: Me too.
Heidi: They're taking a long time to cross.
Me: OMG look how fast that guy is driving! He's not slowing down! He's going to hit the ducks! What if he hits the ducks? OK, he stopped. Good. Otherwise I would have to beat up his car.
Heidi: Wow.

And the day before!

Me: Look! Ducks!
Joe: Wow.
Me: I love ducks.
Joe: OK.
Me: Look at that one! He has a mohawk thing!
Joe: ...
Me: You know what I love best? When ducks put their little ducks butts up in the air. I love that.
Joe: Yep.
Me: Look, more ducks!
Joe: Are you retarded?
Me: I don't think so. I just love ducks, is all.

And SCENE.

and then I fell over

Oh, right, I have a blog. Hi, blog! Sorry I've been neglecting you. The thing is, I don't have time to blog at work and when I say blog at work, of course I mean during my lunch break and not when I'm supposed to be doing actual work. Because I've been spending my lunch break WORKING. Not today, though. Today I spent the first half of my lunch break going to Kroger to get wine and baking sheets (not to use together, though) and now I'm ignoring my phone and email, listening to the Dr. Horrible soundtrack, and BLOGGING. Heh, at first I wrote this: BLOGGIN. Which I think I like better. Anyway.

Heidi got a Wii Fit for Christmas, and last night we hooked it up. Well. Heidi hooked it up. I sat there and watched. To be fair, though, hooking it up meant putting in some batteries and pushing some buttons on the Wii, so I really think I'd have just been in the way if I had tried to help.

The Wii Fit started out by grunting in pain when I stepped on the board. That was nice. And then! It told me I was overweight. Ouch, Wii. That hurts. I mean, it wasn't exactly breaking news or anything, but hearing that I did, in fact, eat too many Christmas cookies and drink too much egg nog (fact: I did not drink any egg nog because . . . gross) was the opposite of fun. I watched Heidi do a balance test and dodge some soccer balls, cleats, and panda heads (what?) and then it was my turn.

Well. I did the balance test and the Wii Fit was all, "WTF? Are you 80? Do you find yourself tripping over stuff a lot?" OK, it really didn't say all that EXCEPT for that last thing BECAUSE IT TOTALLY DID ASK IF I TRIP OVER STUFF. This is when Heidi and Joe almost died laughing FOR REALSIES because the Wii knew how clumsy I am after just one test.

Then. I tried to slalom and it went about as well as it does when I try to for-real ski. I ran into more flags than anything else. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't fall off the board (although, I did when I tried the step aerobics) and when I finished slaloming (is that a word?), the Wii Fit told me I was unbalanced. Which, duh.

I redeemed myself a bit during the hula hooping, I think. I made it all the way through and spun the shit out of some hula hoops. Sure, a couple hula hoops hit me in the head, but you know . . . baby steps. Anyway, here is something brand new. Conversations Between My Roommate and My Boyfriend:

Heidi and Joe: HAHAHAHAHA JENNIE IS UNBALANCED AND LOOKS FUNNY WHEN SHE HULA HOOPS!
Joe: My favorite part was when the hula hoop hit her in the head.
Heidi: Me too!
Joe: Because I feel like . . . if someone threw a hula hoop at her in real life, that's what would happen.
Heidi: Definitely. I also liked her granny-hula-hooping hand gestures.
Me: Thanks, guys.

Can you feel the love? I can. It's cold and hurty.

I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day.

First things first.

1. Happy New Year

2. Happy Birthday, Sister

I am at work today, although my body tried to hold me hostage and NOT get out of bed. I also went to bed at like 7 o'clock last night. Sort of. I needed, um, a lot of recovery from Wednesday night's festivities. I think I learned some important lessons that night. One, if you cannot even read the words to a song on Rock Band, it's probably time to go to bed. Two, if you have been drinking champagne and rum & cokes all evening, don't mix your own drinks. Or BETTER YET, stop drinking and go to bed. Things reached ridiculous levels that night. Jon spun Miguel around in circles and then Miguel ran headfirst into the bookcase. True story. It's on video. Also. I said things like this:

Technology ruins EVERYTHING.

And this:

Joe: Do you want some water?
Me: No, I'll wait for them to bring ice cubes.
Joe: ...what? Who is bringing ice cubes?
Me: [unintelligible]

I don't really remember that last part, but Joe assures me that it happened.

Anyway, around 1:30, Heidi, Joe, and I managed to drag ourselves to Wendy's, and then home. I was supposed to be at my parents' house around 4 and getting ready was like torture, which is why I ended up going over there in my pajamas. Honestly, they're lucky I showered. Then I ate way too many mashed potatoes, felt like dying, and so I went home to die in my own bed. Good times.

now is the time when I babble about TV

Last night, I caught up on some Grey's Anatomy and . . . yeah. Um. Show? What are you doing? I tried to explain part of one episode to Joe and it went something like this:

Me: So I was watching Grey's Anatomy?
Him: Why?
Me: Shut up. And guess who was on it?
Him: Who?
Me: Jeremy! From Sports Night!
Him: No way!
Me: Yeah. But it was not a very good storyline.
Him: Oh yeah?
Me: Yeah. His wife had a pimple and thought it was a Staph infection . . .
Him: Sure.
Me: And so she bought these antibiotics from the internet and the antibiotics killed off all the good bacteria in her body or something and Jeremy was her husband.
Him: OK.
Me: And so she could get back some of the good bacteria she had to have a poop transplant.
Him: A poop transplant?
Me: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Him: A POOP transplant?!
Me: AHAHAHAHAHA.
Him: Um.
Me: Ahahahahahahah poop.

And then I tried to explain what was going on with Izzy, because she's banging her dead fiance, which is totally rude because she's dating Alex now. Kat tells me that General Hospital did the exact same storyline and Izzy has a brain tumor. I assume this is for the writer-bashing Katherine Heigl did during the last Emmy season. I'm also guessing that the writers have no idea what to do with her character anymore. Remember when Izzy was likable? Before she went crazy and started killing her fiance and stealing hearts and sleeping with her gay BFF? Yeah, me neither.

ALSO. The interns tried to take out Vaughn's evil wife's appendix. I don't really have an opinion of her on Grey's because of Alias. I keep expecting her to go rogue, put on some black eyeliner, bang Sark, and start torturing the other doctors. That hasn't happened, though. YET. She's still recovering from almost dying so she can't get up to any shenanigans at the moment.

It turns out that's all I have to say about TV right now. Carry on.

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.

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.