I'M A ROBOT. I'M GONNA TALK LIKE A ROBOT*

As so often happens in Ohio IN THE SPRING, it snowed last night. Weird snow, too. Annoying snow. I mean, more annoying than usual. It rained all day yesterday and then got really cold last night, so my car was a big ice cube this morning PLUS there was snow all over it. Stupid buttface snow.

It took me forever to get to work. I mean, not REALLY forever, otherwise I'd still be driving, right? And I couldn't post this if I were driving. Or can you do that now? I'm so behind on technology.

The only reason I'm forgiving Ohio for snowing all over the place is that it's Friday. Friday and payday. I can't be in a bad mood on payday Friday. Or any Friday, really, because the Fridays that aren't payday Fridays? I'm off work. Win win win.

I packed like crazy last night, like I was a crazy packing robot. Like Bender but instead of bending things, I pack things. So I'm Packer, but not Packer from The Office because he's a dick. Um.

SO. I packed stuff while I watched Chuck and now I'm finally FINALLY caught up. Chuck is one of those shows that I don't really miss if I forget to watch it, but then whenever I watch it I realize how good it is. But then the next week, I forget to watch it again and am all, "meh." What's that about? Yeah, I don't know either! Things I do know:

• I would like to see more of Chuck in just a towel, please
• Sarah and Superman might be the hottest couple ever in the history of the world
• Except maybe Ellie and Awesome (I just can't decide!)

In other news, I wish today would go super fast so Joe and I can paint. WHY AM I EXCITED ABOUT PAINTING? That's another thing I don't know.

*Does anyone get this? I love you forever, if you do

I'll be up in the gym just WORKIN' ON MY FITNESS*

I had been doing really well with the whole working out thing, until Monday because I started to feel like poo because my mom gave me her germs, which is sweet and all, but really I wish she'd kept them all for herself. Because that's the kind of daughter I am, I will make that kind of sacrifice. Anyway, before the sickness, I was alternating between running and stuff in the fitness room and doing Jillian's 30 Day Shred.

I managed to move on to Level 2 of the Shred, even though most of the time it made me want to die, but I started to get really bored. I was tired of watching Jillian flirt with Natalie and fawn over Anita's abs. I didn't want to listen to her tell me about how she was making big promises, and that's why she was torturing me, or that she wanted me to feel like I was gonna die (the hell, Jillian?) because I was BORED. I was getting so bored that, since I had the DVD memorized, I was doing it without the aid of the DVD while I watched something else. And I was still bored! Also, tired.

So I bought a couple of her other videos. They're both about 50 minutes long (counting warm up and cool down) and so I figured they might be easier than the Shred. The Shred is only 25 minutes long, so I thought the intensity would be more spread out in the longer videos. This is similar to my theory that tinier animals and people are meaner than bigger animals and people because the evil is more concentrated. (See: little yappy dogs VS. big sweet dogs.) Never mind that I came up with this theory as I was explaining to my friend how scientists had cloned an elephant, but like a collie-sized elephant, and it was really cute but also really mean and would try to poke people with its tiny tusks and it wasn't until I was halfway through my explanation and she was staring at me like I had three heads that I remembered that I had read about this IN A WORK OF FICTION, not on the news. But I still think my theory makes total sense.

Anyway. I did one of the videos last night and now I'm afraid to do the other one. My new heart rate monitor watch said I burned 700 calories, which I really doubt is true but you know? I have never sweat so much in my life and today my entire body feels like I spent the night throwing myself down the stairs over and over so maybe it was accurate. There were moments when I actually cried out, "THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE, JILLIAN!" She for realsies tried to kill me. Toward the end, she was all, "now we're going to do mat work" and I was like, "yay, lying on the floor!" but that was the worst part of the whole workout! You guys, SHE IS EVIL. It's because she's so tiny, see, THEORY VALIDATED.

*yeah, I just quoted Fergie SUCK IT

respect my authoritah!

Right after I first started my new job, we had this meeting. And at this meeting, my uberboss explained that we'd be starting a bunch of training sessions in a couple of months, and that they needed volunteers to help lead them. Having just started with the company, I was anxious to TOTALLY BROWN-NOSE and so I volunteered immediately.

It's now a couple of months later and the training has begun. I was given a binder on how to facilitate training (whoo) and a ready-made Powerpoint presentation (hoo) so I thought it seemed pretty foolproof.

Well. Yesterday was the first day and, since I'd never led this particular training before, I observed during two sessions. One of the sessions went fine. Sure, no one really talked, which can be frustrating, but there were no problems.

But the other session. The other session made me scared in my very soul. You see, the employees who are coming to these sessions are all factory employees. The office employees all complete this training WITH TECHNOLOGY because, duh, they all have computers. But the factory employees don't have access to computers because where would they put them? On the floor next to the HUGE, GRINDING MACHINES OF DEATH? Note: I don't actually know if there are HUGE, GRINDING MACHINES OF DEATH in the factory, but I'm assuming so because that's what it sounds like.

In any case, my training cohort told me that whenever she leads these training sessions, sometimes all any of the employees want to do is complain about how much their supervisors/jobs suck and how they are treated unfairly and WAH WAH give me my blankie, I'm tired and need a nap. Which is annoying. The office employees are too lazy to get up and complain to our faces, they complain through e-mail instead. Anyway, my cohort said that sometimes she has to be all Mistress of Pain and tell them to STFU so the meeting doesn't last eight hours. I didn't quite believe her. Until yesterday. When she went all Mistress of Pain and told them to STFU because they wouldn't stop complaining about how their managers beat them with chains and don't let them go to the bathroom and also one time looked at them funny and it hurt their feelings.

After she yelled at them, there was an awkward silence and then she went back to the Powerpoint. Certain employees looked disgruntled and certain employees looked amused and I looked like I was going to poop my pants because I have to start training next week and THEY ARE GOING TO EAT ME ALIVE. I'm not really much of a YELLER when I get angry. I'm more of an "I'm not going to talk to you for a while" type of person when I'm mad (ask Joe, hee) and I don't think I'm allowed to just click through the presentation without saying anything and if they decide to go all Lord of the Flies, I just know I'm going to be the one who gets smooshed by a big rock.

starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam

Yesterday, Lampl invited us over to hang out, even though they're leaving for Florida today. After a while, we all started thinking, "hmm, they're leaving tomorrow . . . and they want us to come over tonight . . . and the truck isn't packed yet . . . why?" and YES, it turned out they wanted to have a packing party only NOT REALLY because it was more like a drag-things-down-three-flights-of-stairs party but it's OK because we love Lampl and Jon and OMG do you see how long this sentence is? My English teachers are rolling over in their graves. You know, if they were all dead. TO MY KNOWLEDGE, they are all living. For now.

Speaking of English teachers (sure, why not), I had like THE BESTEST English teachers in high school. Well. Until senior year. I will get to that in a second. Actually, my freshman year English teacher was kind of meh, but she had Farrah Fawcett hair so that was cool. Anyway, sophomore year, my teacher was totally obsessed with Prince so we did this whole unit (heh, unit) based on a Prince song I'd never heard of, called Starfish and Coffee. I'm not sure what this song had to do with any of the stuff she made us do, but whatever. This stuff included: drawing a picture that represented something we struggled with, doing some activity where she'd say something like, "I am female" and then all the girls would walk to one side of the room, playing a song for everyone that meant something to us, and salsa dancing. Yes, salsa dancing.

So even though she was totally weird, she was also awesome and way better than the teacher I had senior year, who totally resembled Frau Farbissina. She didn't just look like her, though, she was also prone to randomly yelling the last word of a sentence FOR NO RAISIN other than she was a huge bitch. Ahem. She didn't like me, which is ridiculous because ALL of my teachers liked me. I always did my homework and paid attention and never, ever disrupted class. I was a teacher's wet dream. But she didn't like me and even once told me I had too much imagination. Probably because she was a huge bitch. At the end of the year, we all had to write essays for our Career Passports to be included in the folder that held our diploma. The topic for one was something about what your Plans A and B were for career choices and I said my Plan A was to become a Book Jacket Summary Writer and my Plan B was to become a Bungee Cord Tester. I think we also had to write something about how we'd afford our dreams (gag) and I wrote that I'd follow celebrities around until they did something embarrassing and then blackmail them. Frau English Teacher did not like my essays. Not even a little. She told me she was going to give me an F if I didn't rewrite them and I was all, "give me the F, I DON'T EVEN CARE A LITTLE," even though getting an F on something I'd written made me die a little inside. So she gave me an F BECAUSE SHE WAS A HUGE BITCH and that's why I got a B in English that semester.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, right. Lampl's. It's Lampl's fault that I had to go to Target and spend money at lunch, because last night I left my black hoodie at her apartment and she told me she packed it and is holding it hostage. The only way I can get it back is to go visit them in Florida. OH DARN, NOT FLORIDA! Did I just say "darn?" Right. So. I had to go to Target and get a hoodie replacement because right now that's cheaper than a trip to Florida.

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.

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."

I have a lot of work to do this afternoon. Those mines aren't going to sweep themselves.

A few of us have started calling Friday "Bipolar Friday" at work. Fridays are when Payroll processes labor and there are always ALWAYS a billion little problems that need fixed ASAP OMFG AHHH!!!11!!!!1!!! and it's all very annoying and frustrating. But, at the same time, it's Friday. And Friday is good. Especially when it's payday. But, as much as I look forward to Friday for being the beginning of the weekend (you know, eventually, at like 5), I also dread it because I know work is going to make me want to shoot my eye out with an official Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock, and this thing which tells time.

Anyway, I'm currently enjoying Friday because the crazy hasn't started yet, and ALSO it's really warm and pretty outside. And even though I'm stuck inside, it's enough right now to know that if I were to go outside, I wouldn't need a big, stupid, heavy winter coat. FINALLY. I mean, sure, within the next couple days, it could snow, but right now I'm going to enjoy the sunshine.

The warm weather actually started yesterday. I walked out of work in short sleeves and didn't freeze my arms off, which is always a nice surprise. Later, Joe and I walked up to The Greene for dinner, and even though the walk home was a bit chilly, I was still fine in a sweatshirt. AWESOME, I say. I don't really have much to talk about aside from the warm weather. That's how excited about it I am.

Other exciting things are in the works, Internets, only I can't talk about them yet. With any luck, you'll all know by next Thursday. Mwaahaahaa! Yeah.

Also! I want to thank you all for sending me your brains to use on Wednesday. I hope you don't mind that I'm never giving them back. I like having the brainpower of the entire Internet. Again I say, mwaaahaahaa! Ahem.

grace in small things

1. I got my tax refund today
2. and even though I'm not going to spend it, it's nice to know it's there
3. Thin Mints
4. FRIDAY
5. Dude. Andy Runton commented on The Collective.

We start with the dummy, and we learn from our mistakes, and now Dwight knows not to cut the face off of a real person.

Good morning, Internets! I have two good pieces of news. 1! My grandma's surgery went very well, so thank you for all of your good thoughts. She's still in the hospital recovering, but they're really hopeful that this surgery will help her.

And 2! It's Friday. FINALLY. Longest week ever, am I right? Am I right or am I right? Or am I right? Sorry, I still have Groundhog Day stuck in my head. It's weird to have a whole movie stuck in your head, you know? Like, I should probably go home and watch it RIGHT NOW because otherwise I'll just be distracted all day and we can't have that, even though that's pretty standard for, um, any day.

So, I've had to have someone from IT come to my office TWICE this week because once my backup battery blew up or something and also the plug in the wall stopped working and it was not good. The other time, I needed to have them install something so I could run a program blah blah blah, this is why I need administrative authority, because I shouldn't have to BEG someone to install iTunes. OK, that's not what they were installing but it SHOULD have been.

Anyway. I hate calling IT because they treat me like an idiot. I mean, I get why they have to, because they have people calling because their mouse isn't working and it's because it's not plugged in or their computer isn't turned on or something ridiculous. But, while I'm not a computer expert of any sort, I at least try to fix the problem myself before I call them. Because the first thing they tell me to do whenever I call is restart my computer. So I do that before I call them. And then! They make me do it anyway! Because they don't believe me! Assholes. And when my battery blew up, this is the conversation I had with the guy on the phone:

Me: Hi, this is Jennie in HR. Um, my computer just turned off for no raisin.
IT: What?
Me: I think the battery blew. The computer turned off, the battery beeped like crazy, and then it just stopped.
IT: Your battery shouldn't have done that.
Me: ...I know.
IT: Did it come unplugged?
Me: Excuse me?
IT: Did the battery come unplugged for some reason?
Me: No. It's not unplugged. I can see it right now and it's plugged in.
IT: Could you lean down there and check?
Me: ...SURE.
IT: ...
Me: It's still plugged into the wall.
IT: OK, can you press the power button.
Me: Okaaaaaaay. Well, the power light flashes green for a second, then a big red X flashes, and then everything goes dark.
IT: Weird.
Me: Yeah.
IT: And it's plugged in?
Me: YES.
IT: OK. I'll be up to take a look at it.
Me: Can't wait.

I feel kind of bad, because I think employees like me are even worse than the employees who don't know how to find the toolbar (heh, toolbar) because we THINK we could fix it ourselves if only we had administrative rights. This time, though, was a complete fluke. It turns out some sort of fuse blew and the outlet the battery was plugged into stopped working. So the IT guy moved it and plugged it into another outlet and my computer was working fine. Unfortunately. I always hope that they won't be able to fix my computer and my boss will just send me home for the day. Sigh. Dream big, Jennie. Dream big.

this isn't your grandmother's Christmas party

WORST. DAY. EVER. Week is almost over and I will tell you how I know that. Um, well, it's almost time to leave work for THE WHOLE WEEKEND. I think most of my problems will magically melt away as soon as I step out of the building. I'm so sick of this place, you guys. It frustrates me so much that I'm not sure if I'm going to cry or call someone a douchebitch or punch someone in the face or all of the above.

Do you want to hear a Christmas miracle? Somehow, I am all done with my Christmas shopping. I banged it out last night (hahahahaha) at Target and then I wept with happiness. True story. Target is magical, so it was fitting that I'd finish my shopping there. Of course, I still have to wrap everything, but my plan on Christmas Eve is to wrap presents, drink, and watch The Sound of Music. I did the same thing last year, only I watched Harry Potter instead of The Sound of Music. What? I don't mock your Christmas traditions.

I have the most exciting plans tonight FOR REALSIES. Heidi and I are going to Tamara's to help make Hanukkah cookies, and there will also be pizza and wine and Love, Actually. Things just don't get much better than that. The only thing that could make it better would be if James McAvoy came in and did a sexy dance for us while we were baking. I'm not sure how much help I'll be with the actual baking, but I know I will be REALLY GOOD at taste-testing. Someone has to make sure the frosting isn't poisoned and I will volunteer to take one for the team.

Tomorrow, I'm celebrating Christmas with my dad's side of the family, and Joe, the brave soul, is going with me. I'm hoping we play Scene It again because if Joe and I are on the same team, we will totally win. No question. The other team will be lucky if they even get to answer any questions. Do you hear that family? We will own your asses. OK BYE MERRY CHRISTMAS!

It's a good day, too. I'm wearing my mustard shirt.

OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS, I'm so excited. I wish work was over. Unfortunately, it's not. Not even close. But whatever, we have beloved friends visiting tonight and there will be food and drinking and FUN, but hopefully no bar fights*.

Did you know it snowed yesterday? Well, it snowed yesterday and everyone forgot how to drive. Heidi explained to me that it's because a lot of people in Ohio are Republicans and Republicans are bad drivers. I never knew I was a Republican. Zing! Anyway.

Last night, while I was waiting for Heidi to get home, I did a bit of cleaning for our guests. Nothing extravagant like cleaning the bathroom (crazy), but vacuuming and cleaning Phoebe's litter box so it didn't smell like poo. Did I tell you I bought Phoebe a fancy, new litter box? It's one of those that has a little walkway and it's all inside an igloo, because I was tired of seeing her poo. Because, see, she doesn't always cover it up very well. Wow, anyway. I bought her this new one and I think she was really confused, because for a while, she wouldn't use it. So I took the lid off of it for a couple of days and then she used it and then I put the lid back on, but I wasn't sure if she was using it because she's not very smart. Maybe she just thought if the lid was on, the place to poo went away. You will never believe how happy I was yesterday when I lifted the lid and saw a bunch of turds. Joe called soon afterward and I was all, "Guess what! Phoebe pooped in her litter box!" and he was like, "Great, I just called to tell you about the CD I just found OK bye!"

You know, I think that's the greatest story I've ever told on a blog EVER. Speaking of blogging, today marks my fifth anniversary of blogging. Not just on this blog, though. Also here and here. Good times. Oh, shit, I guess it was yesterday. Oops.

Where was I? OK, so I cleaned a bit. Not as much as I should have. This is what we did last night instead of cleaning our apartment for our beloved friends:

• went to Starbucks and got hot chocolate (OH MY GOD YUM)
• went to Target, where I spent a bajillion dollars on toiletries and such
• went to Papa Murphy's to use a coupon and buy delicious pizza
• discussed a text message to send a boy
• watched 30 Rock
• watched Ugly Betty
• watched The Office
• watched more 30 Rock
• oh, and planted seeds for a tiny Christmas tree

Target Dollar Spot strikes again! I hope it grows big and strong by Christmas. Joe made fun of me (standard) for buying a tiny Christmas tree, but when Heidi and I are rich because of our Christmas tree farm, he's gonna be so jealous.

*fun fact: I found this entry by searching my blog posts for "bar police mom"

I don't even know, you guys

You know, earlier I was looking at my shoes and I realized they look sort of like Pilgrim shoes. Like, if I was going to dress up like a Pilgrim, and I could only use materials that I already owned, I would definitely wear these shoes. You might be asking yourself, "But Jennie, why would you ever want to dress up like a Pilgrim?" and I am here to tell you . . . I don't know. But I'm sure there are occasions to dress up like Pilgrim. Let's see. There's Halloween, for sure. I know Halloween is over, but it's never too early to start planning for next year. Or perhaps your family is totally weird and you dress up like Pilgrims and Indians for Thanksgiving. That could be fun, actually, but make sure it's accurate. After the Thanksgiving meal, you should kill a couple of the Indians by giving them smallpox or something. Just make sure one of your least favorite relatives dresses up like an Indian. That way you wouldn't have to listen to Uncle Bob's stories about his spastic colon at Christmas, and that's beneficial to everyone.

You know, I actually have dressed up like a Pilgrim before. We had Pioneer Day once in 6th grade and I realize those aren't EXACTLY the same thing, but I'm not sure my teacher knew that. I distinctly remember making Pilgrim hats, and then wearing a long, flowy skirt and a really uncomfortable button-up shirt, so no one would think I was a witch (read: whore) and burn me at the stake. That would be uncomfortable.

ACTUALLY, I think my shoes look more like witch shoes. Plus, I have on striped socks, just like the Wicked Witch of the East wore when she got crushed by Dorothy's flying house. And I'm sort of mean, so it totally fits.

Oh, Friday. Hello, lover.

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

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

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