Mr. Darcy is the hit of my pants*

I woke up early this morning to Max crawling ACROSS JOE'S FACE so he could hide his face between our pillows. Normally these kinds of shenanigans would get Max kicked off the bed POST HASTE but it was thunderstorming and he was scared and COME ON, how could I possibly force him off the bed when his sad little scared face was trembling nose-to-nose with mine. Joe and I tried to go back to sleep, but it didn't really work because Joe was pretty much forced to the very edge of the bed and the only way I could make myself comfortable was to spoon Max but he kept hitting me in the chin with his head whenever there was thunder and OW.

So my point is, I'm tired today. I mean, I had already stayed up past my bedtime because I wanted to watch Mr. Darcy win an Oscar, so I wasn't planning on waking up an hour and a half earlier than my alarm. YAWN.

In other news, I got this love letter the other day:

Dear Beloved,

This letter may come to you as a surprise due to the fact that we have not yet met. Firstly, I have to say that I have no intentions of causing you any pain. My name is Mr. Moore Edwards, a European merchant. I have been diagnosed with Prostate and Esophageal cancer that was discovered very late due to lack of caring for my health. It has defiled all form of medicine and right now, I have only about a few months to live according to medical experts. I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone not even myself but my business.Though I am very rich, I was never generous, I was always hostile to people and only focus on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world. I use to say to my self that if God should give me a second chance I would live differently from how I have lived. I was meditating on my hospital bed and something told me that Go

Hence, I do not trust them anymore, as they seem not to be content with what I have left for them.The last of my money which is a huge cash deposit that I have with a security firm will be put in your care if only you will agree and are capable of seeing this through. I want you to help me collect this deposit and dispatched it to charity organizations of your choice and let them know that it is I Mr.Moore Edwards that is making this generous donation. I am writing this from my laptop computer in my hospital bed where I wait for my time to come. I pray for you to support and assist me with a good heart. I hope we can build a relationship based on trust because I want to do this by all means possible before I die.But the choice is yours Please you can contact me through this email address: mooreedwards1@aol.co.uk

Be blessed my beloved,
Mr.Moore Edwards

For some reason, it was delivered to my spam folder. Which is weird because why would my beloved send me spam? In any case, feel free to email him. It sounds like he could use a pick-me-up.

*When my friend Amy and I were but wee little college freshman, we read Bridget Jones's Dairy and Pride & Prejudice, like, a million times, and then saw BJD in the theater, like, a million times, and went on an epic journey to, like, a million stores just to find the P&P mini-series that made Colin Firth such an object of DEEP, DEEP DESIRE. To say we were merely obsessed with Mr. Darcy is an insult to our level of obsession.

Anyway, one night, after drinking too much, we sent emails to practically everyone we knew (drunk emailing is way more entertaining than drunk dialing, trust me) and in one email, we said both "Mr. Darcy is a hearthrap," and "Mr. Darcy is the hit of my pants." Thank you, Stephanie, for reminding me of this. GOOD TIMES.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOE!

I'm glad you were borned. You take care of me when I'm sick AND you didn't let me tumble into the ocean (or off of the balcony) that time I had too much tequila on our honeymoon. Our games of Scrabble always ALWAYS devolve into seeing who can spell the dirtiest words. You completely indulge me when I'm giggling over absolutely nothing (which is often) or just plain being weird (which is even more often) and then you totally outweird ME and it's awesome. You act like a total girl whenever Max does something cute (I mean that in a nice way) and you're nicer to Phoebe than I am.

You help me through scary stuff and won't let me get away with saying I'm not angry even though I obviously am, which pretty much makes you the more mature one in this relationship (duh).

The future may be uncertain but at least we can wander around all confused together.

PLUS ALSO, you let me (nay, ENCOURAGE ME to) post pictures like this on the internet:


What more could I ask for? HAAAAAAAAAPPY BIRTHDAY!

won't you be my neighbor

I find it somewhat comforting to realize that I care as much about Valentine's Day now that I'm married as I did when I was single, which is to say, very little.

I do, however, care very much about these Doctor Who Valentine's Day cards. So there's that.

A funny thing happened yesterday in Ohio and that thing was that it wasn't absolutely frigid outside. It was maybe, MAYBE, 45, but that didn't stop some silly Ohioans from running around in shorts and t-shirts. Because that's what people do on the first semi-warm day of the year and I sort of love it. I mean, I'm not going to start running around in a sundress just because it's above freezing, but it was nice to walk Max IN THE SUNSHINE and not have to wear two pairs of pants, a scarf, gloves, and a hat and yet still worry about whether the tip of my nose is going to fall off because OMG I CAN'T FEEL MY NOSE ANYMORE.

I think the warm weather made me more productive, too, because NOT ONLY did I go to the grocery, but Joe and I ran all sorts of boring errands and didn't complain about them ONCE, plus I chopped up a million vegetables so the Crock Pot could make some beef stew for us to have for dinner tonight. I love when the Crock Pot cooks for us, especially on nights when I'm not going to be home until 7:30.

Oh! I forgot to tell you guys something really important about our neighbor, who we call Poltergeist Lady, because, well, she looks like this lady. In fact, when we first moved in, she knocked on our door to introduce herself and when she left, this happened:

Me: Oh, man. I'm having really mean thoughts.
Joe: Ooh, what are they?
Me: I don't wanna say.
Joe: Is it this? "Carol Anne, Carol Anne!"
Me: OK, so at least we're both going to hell.

So that's how she got the name Poltergeist Lady. She's very nice, but we always thought her a little odd, and the other night I upgraded her status from "a little odd," to "I'm not answering the door anymore."

We had a pretty bad ice storm a couple of weeks ago, and because of this, Joe and I both worked from home. This meant I didn't shower until I "left" work, so I had just gotten out of the shower when there was a knock on the door. Joe answered (in his Superman pajama pants) and I hid in the bathroom and listened. This is what I heard:

Poltergeist Lady: Hiiiiiiii.
Joe: Hi.
PL: [lots of mumbly words]
Joe: Um...
PL: [more mumbly words]
Joe: OK?

Then I heard Joe go into the kitchen, get something out of a cabinet, and go back to the front door.

Joe: Here you go.
PL: THANK YOU!

"What was that?" I shouted once the front door was closed.

"Oh, Poltergeist Lady wanted to borrow some taco seasoning," Joe answered.

Naturally, I was all, "um, WHAT," and it turns out she'd gone to the grocery to buy stuff to make tacos, but had forgotten taco seasoning, and so OF COURSE she went knocking on doors until she found some. Sure, OK. Maybe I'm just unfriendly, but I try to avoid my neighbors at all costs, because there's nothing I hate more than small talk. I'm so bad at it. I don't want to tell you how my day was, I don't care how your day was, and I can't talk with you about the weather anymore or I'll have to stab myself in the eardrum.

Anyway, so if I realized I'd forgotten ANYTHING at the grocery, I would either go back and get it or do without it. Especially if it was something like TACO SEASONING.

But, fine, she's obviously different than me AND THAT'S OK. You know what's not OK? That she came back five minutes later and asked for more.

Joe's way nicer than I am because I would have lied and said we didn't have any taco seasoning the first time she knocked on the door. So it's good that he answered the door instead of me. We want to remain on her good side, you know, in case our TV ever starts talking to us.

show me that smile again

I went to Zumba (yes, ZUMBA) on Saturday for the first time. While I spent several songs marching in the wrong direction and flailing my arms about wildly, I enjoyed it and I'm going back tonight. It tricks you into exercising and it turns out exercising is good for you. Who knew? Anyway, the plus side of going to this Zumba class is that there's no set cost, it's all just donations to the instructor, AND it's really close to my house. The negative is that it's at a church, not that that's bad, but there are some churchy elements. Like scripture reading before the class starts (but it's short) and I'm pretty sure there were one or two Christian rock songs played during the class, but I was too busy trying not to run into people or fall down to really notice. This said, I don't really care because while I am not churchy, I do not begrudge others their churchiness (I don't know).

AND. The instructor told us before the class started that Kirk Cameron was coming to give a talk about marriage or preparing for the End Times or something, I don't know, I wasn't really listening because I was too busy mouthing, "OMG MIKE SEAVER MIKE SEAVER!" to Nancy while my 18-year-old cousin just stared at us blankly because I'm pretty sure she doesn't know who Mike Seaver is. The shame, the shame.

Anyway, I'm trying to decide if it's worth the price of the ticket to possibly accost see Mike Seaver in person. Probably not.

So, yeah, since I went to Zumba, it meant getting up early (on Saturday!) and regretting my decision to drink coffee beforehand. It was fun, though, and the fact that I keep telling people I'll meet them there means I can't flake out unless I have a really good excuse. Wanting to stay home and watch The Soup is not a good (enough) excuse.

After Zumba, I went home and was faced with this tough decision: Do I continue being productive since I'm already up and aboot? Or do I reward myself for getting up early with TV and loafing? The answer was a little of both, because Joe and I finally went to the bank to begin the long, arduous process of merging our moneys, but when we got home, I watched an episode of Doctor Who and two episodes of Grey's Anatomy (from season 2, when it was still good...ish).

I was about to start the next episode when Joe called and was all, "...um...so...I found a dog," and it was one of those times where I just wasn't sure how to react. I thought he was calling to tell me he was on his way home, not that Max might soon have a new friend. But, no, this dog was wearing tags, so we couldn't in good conscience keep her forever and hug her and squeeze her and call her George.

At first I was like, "take her to SICSA, maybe?" hoping they'd know what to do and then I remembered that I had a computer in front of me, and everyone knows that Google can solve anything. I got on SICSA's website, which led me here in a matter of CLICKS. Apparently, if you find a lost dog, you can find the owner's address and phone number just by entering the dog's tag number. I had no idea our county did this. I'd imagine your county does the same.

I plugged in the tag number and luckily the owner's current information was in there. I called them and a little girl answered the phone. I told her my name and that my husband had found a dog and that's when she squealed, "THEY FOUND CHRISTY!" and my heart melted. They didn't live far from us so I called Joe and told him where he could return the dog, and he said the whole family was outside in the front yard, waiting for him to bring their dog back. I want to cry a little, you guys, WHAT THE HELL. Anyway, I think our Dog Karma is really high now, so hopefully if Max ever gets lost (NOOOOOO), he'll find his way back to us, or someone will find his way back to us FOR him.

"Smart" Kids: new Lois & Clark review

New review on Joe & Jennie in the Morning! Lois and Clark investigate some super smart kids who are trying to take over Metropolis, but they don't really seem all that smart. Sure, they outsmart Lois, but how hard is that, really?

i am totally bogarting delurking day II

Sometimes when I find a new blog, I get really annoyed if there's not an "About" page somewhere, because I'm nosy and I like to learn everything about that person RIGHT AWAY, rather than, I don't know, just reading through their archives or something. Who has that kind of time? Wikipedia has ruined me forever.

Anyway, my point is that I'm a big hypocrite because I didn't even have an "About" page! WTF? I've fixed that, though, mainly because I recently discovered how to add Pages in Blogger. I know. I KNOW. So if you look under the header, you will see an "About Me" page and it's all about me, although I'm not sure how informative it is.

There's also a Links! page because did you know that Blogrolling went away? I guess it's been gone since November but I only recently noticed because ALL MY LINKS DISAPPEARED. It was good, though, because I've discovered a lot of new blogs since I last updated my Blogroll, so now those have been added. Please let me know if I forgot you.

BTW, I mostly stole this whole idea from Kate over at Effing the Ineffable, who has declared her own Delurking Day. So if you're a lurker, DELURK, because I am a whore for comments. Also, if you delurk, then I can add your link to my Links! page. Win win win! Also also, I really want to add a FAQ page but no one ever asks me any questions, let alone FREQUENTLY, so if you could delurk AND ask a question, I will send you a virtual hug WHATEVER THAT MEANS.

Also! Here are some recent posts at Joe and Jennie in the Morning! that you may have missed:

1. Joe is going to be recapping Sports Night. Here's the first episode!
2. I recapped episode 3 of The X-Files AKA Squeeze AKA the greatest episode ever (until, you know, the next one)
3. Joe recapped episode 6 of Lois & Clark...Lois dresses up in a chicken suit. Yeah.

let's talk about gym etiquette

I know I was just complaining about the movies but now I'm going to complain about the gym and I'll tell you why. Our condo complex has a fitness room and, as far as I can tell, it's hardly ever used. I have seen other people in there maybe one or two of the times I've managed to drag myself to the treadmill, so whenever I walk in the room and see other people, I feel like they're trespassing in MY gym.

When Joe and I walked into the gym a few days ago and there were two (TWO) people already there, working on their fitness, I was perturbed. But, you know, whatever, it's their gym, too (HARRUMPH) so I couldn't really complain. Or throw them out, even though I totally wanted to. BUT. Then! They were gross. And here's why:

The guy on the treadmill who I usually see running outside no matter what the temperature had decided to move his workout indoors that day and was running super fast, was really sweaty, smelled bad enough that I could smell his BO from two machines away, and ran for at least 40 minutes, getting his sweaty-stinky-man-hands all OVER the treadmill. He finished his workout soon after Joe and I started ours, went to get a drink at the water fountain, put on his jacket, and left. Joe and I looked at one another in complete horror.

"Did he clean off his treadmill?" I asked.

"NO!" Joe exclaimed.

GROSS. YOU GUYS. THAT IS GROSS.

So meanwhile, there's this lady riding a bike in front of us. She's not wearing earphones or anything, so I know she heard us talking about how gross it was that that guy was sweating all over a machine and didn't clean it off. But what does she do? Finishes her workout, gets a drink of water, puts on her jacket, and leaves! WHAT THE HELL?

The craziest thing is that there are antibacterial wipes provided RIGHT THERE in the gym. You don't have to bring your own towel. You don't even have to go get paper towels out of the bathroom and then spray them with cleaning solution before you wipe down the machines. No. You just have to pull a wet wipe out of the container. It's so easy. I don't understand people who don't clean off their machines. If you don't clean your machine when you're done with it, YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE.

Gym Rules:

1. CLEAN YOUR SHIT

The most important rule of the gym is to clean up after yourself. If you sweat all over a machine, CLEAN IT OFF. How is this a difficult thing to understand?

2. GET OUT OF MY WAY

Don't stand in front of a machine or just, like, hang out on a switched-off treadmill and have a conversation with someone. Get out of the way so someone else can use it. I HATE YOU.

3. DON'T BE GROSS

When Heidi and I were members at Fitworks, we would often note that working-out-noises were eerily similar to having-sex-noises. Please be aware of the noises you are making and, um, stop making them. I should not have to give you a side-look to make sure you're not pleasuring yourself over at the bench press.

4. WTF, I WAS WATCHING THAT

If you go in the gym and someone is already there and the TV is on a certain channel/show/whatever, DO NOT CHANGE IT. Not without asking. That's rude. I don't want to watch real athletes on ESPN while I work out, I want to watch models fall off a runway on America's Next Top Model.

5. NO SERIOUSLY, CLEAN YOUR SHIT

Hi. Did you just finish your workout? Yeah? Cool. Did you clean off your machine? No? Oh. GO CLEAN YOUR SHIT.