You know, you CAN say it backwards, which is "docious-ali-expi-istic-fragil-cali-rupus," but that's going a bit too far, don't you think?

Fictional characters I wanted to be when I was a child (aged 5 - 12ish):

1. Red Fraggle

She had pigtails. I had pigtails. It was totally meant to be.

2. Punky Brewster

See above, re: pigtails.

3. Rainbow Brite

I actually had a rainbow belt when I was little. I'd wear it with my red suspenders and my red, heart-shaped sunglasses. The belt had a heart clasp and, when I wore it, I'd pretend I was Rainbow Brite and wish that my belt could shoot a rainbow out of it, but I must have run out of Star Sprinkles because it never did.

4. Princess Leia

Except I was always jealous that she never got a light saber.

5. Vada Sultenfuss (My Girl)

OK, so I didn't really want to live above a funeral parlor and I DEFINITELY didn't want my BFF to die of bee stings OH MY GOD, MOVIE, BE SADDER, NO I DARE YOU. Ahem. But Vada was sassy and quirky and also had an awesome mood ring that I coveted. I don't know why, maybe I wanted to wear it with my Rainbow Brite belt.

6. Belle from Beauty & the Beast

Have you SEEN that library? SWOON.

7. Mary Poppins

Um, she could fly. And she had a magic bag that she could hide tons of shit in, very much like the bag Hermione enchants in Deathly Hallows. When you think about it, Mary Poppins is kind of like a witch without a magic wand.

8. Meg Murry (A Wrinkle in Time)

She seemed so unsure of herself, like, all the time and DUH, of course I identified with that, but then she goes on a wicked awesome adventure to save her father, which is totally brave and awesome. Plus, we both wore really awkward glasses and yet a boy still liked her, so it gave me hope that maybe someday a boy would like me, too. OMG, I just made myself totally sad, oops. Poor, awkward, little Jennie.

9. Dorothy Gale

I think I wanted to be her most of all. The Wizard of Oz was my favorite movie when I was a kid ('cept for maybe E.T.) and I thought Oz was probably the most magical place in the world. Maybe I hadn't seen Willy Wonka yet, I don't know, but still. My dad even made me my own pair of ruby slippers. They were my most prized possession, until my feet grew too big for them, but I hung onto them for a long time even though they didn't fit. Even as an adult, I've often wished for some ruby slippers. I have some red shoes, but I've tried, and they never send me home when I click my heels three times.

10. Marion Ravenwood (Raiders of the Lost Ark)

SHE IS SO BADASS, YOU GUYS.

the Ken Doll

I first heard of the Kindle back in 2007 from one Heather Anne Hogan. It was the Thanksgiving that I drove to DC to meet The Collective and when I'd finally found my way and parked and lugged all of my stuff into Kat's adorable apartment, Heather Anne told us all of a magical device called the Kindle.

She'd been sitting next to a woman with a Kindle on her flight to DC. And, being Heather Anne Hogan, she became best friends with this stranger and learned all about the wonder of the Kindle. How it was magic and could hold practically a million books inside and also how it cost a lot. We were all amazed, if not slightly suspicious, because who doesn't love the feel of a real book in their hands? In any case, I filed this information away because I didn't even have an iPod at that point, so it wasn't like I was going to go run out and buy this mysterious Kindle. (At the time, I thought everyone was saying Ken Doll instead of Kindle and I was all, "How do you read off of a Ken Doll?" but don't worry, I eventually figured it out.)

Last year, Joe started a new job. Since he started when everyone was getting their Christmas bonuses, he wasn't going to get one. So his boss gave him a Kindle. Yeah. No bonus for you, but here's SOME MAGIC instead. I'm not going to lie to you. I was jealous. And not JUST because my Christmas bonus consisted of a booklet about the history of the company and two movie tickets. But, I was also happy for him because I love him blah blah blah and anyway, he let me read books on it sometimes.

The brand new tiny Kindle came out right before we got married. My coworkers gave me a gift card to Target that was JUST ENOUGH for a Kindle, so we tried to find one before the honeymoon. Unfortunately, we weren't successful so, AS PER USUAL, I ended up packing five books in my carry-on, oh, and buying two others over the course of the trip.

But when we got home, we found a faraway(ish) Target (around Hoover Heights, Heather) and soon I had a Kindle. It was like POOF here's your Kindle, that's how easy it was. I soon had it loaded with a couple of books, but it's so hard to stop at a couple of books. Especially when it's so easy to buy them. You only have to click ONE BUTTON on Amazon's website and then it's loaded onto your Kindle. I had no idea books could disapparate, but they keep doing it! From Amazon, straight to my Kindle! IT IS MAGIC, YOU GUYS, DON'T TRY AND TELL ME DIFFERENTLY.

I need to stop, though. I am exceeding my book budget by, like, a lot. Luckily, there are a lot of free books for the Kindle, classics like Pride & Prejudice and Gulliver's Travels. So I loaded all the free books I could find onto my Kindle. I found about 40 of them. I'll be taking all of them with me to DC this weekend and I just hope it's enough.

If Harry Potter had come out when I was 12 instead of 16, I would be way more obsessed. That's a lot of obsessed, but this is not about Harry Potter.

A few weeks ago, someone referenced Flowers in the Attic on their blog, and this led me down a rabbit hole. First I had to look up Flowers in the Attic on Wackopedia, because I'd forgotten some of the effed up details, which led me to looking up all the other VC Andrews books I read as a child (sidenote: VC Andrews should not be read by children), which led me to looking up OTHER books I read as a child, which led me to realize that just because I was an advanced reader for my age, that did not mean I should have been reading a lot of the books I read. Second grade is far too young to read Are You There, God, It's Me, Margaret.

I devoured books (mmm, books) as a child, many times in one sitting, and I read my favorites over and over. Not much has changed, except I no longer usually have time to read an entire book in one sitting because being an adult comes with responsibilities, which is STUPID AND I HATE IT. Anyway. I made up a list of the books I read over and over, what I remember about each one, and other comments that are probably full of exclamation marks and all caps.

The previously mentioned Flowers in the Attic: OK. This might be the most fucked up book I've ever read. There are four kids, all blond and beautiful. The two older children are teenagers, I think, and the two younger are twins (one boy, one girl). Their father dies and because their mother is a waste of space, she takes the kids to her childhood home so she can beg her father for money. The kids are locked in an attic by their mother and grandmother because they are Satan's spawn (according to the grandmother) because GET THIS, the kids' parents were uncle and niece (I think). Although, in a later book it's revealed that they're really half brother and sister. Gross. Anyway, the grandmother is a total see you next tuesday and is really mean to them. At one point, she pours tar in the older girl's hair while she's sleeping and I think whips her with a belt. Also, the mother feeds the kids arsenic because her father's will says she'll only get any money if she didn't have any two headed incest children. Also, the older brother rapes the older sister. I KNOW.

I don't know why I was allowed to read any of these books. And I read almost all of them. There is a TON of incest in every single one, WHAT THE HELL?

IT, by Stephen King: Yes. I read this book as a child. I can't remember how old I was, but it might have been around the time I wrote The Evil Summer, which explains a lot, yes? Yes. This book is about...shit, you guys, it's so messed up. There's a scary clown, a big ass spider, dead kids, IT IS NOT FOR CHILDREN. But I specifically remember my dad giving me this book to read. When I was like 12.

The Secret Circle: This is the first trilogy I read by LJ Smith, and probably my favorite. Hokay, so. What happens is, this girl named Cassie moves to Salem or something. I think she goes to live with her grandparents, maybe? I don't remember why, but her mom never told her who her father was, so that's a big mystery. Somehow she ends up BFF with this girl named Diana, who is part of a secret witch coven (I know) and they recruit Cassie. Cassie is totally in love with Diana's boyfriend Adam (I am making up names at this point) and at one point they make out and it's a big thing. The whole coven gets in a big fight, and there's this dark evil hovering over everything in the form of, some dark dude. The dark dude ends up being Cassie's real father and he's evil and wants her to join the dark side and then they have this big fight and he cuts of her hand, oh wait, that's something else. My point is, I don't remember anything else about these.

Dark Visions: This was my second favorite of the trilogies and it was about all these psychic kids. They go to some institute, which turns out to be evil (of course), and they run away and there are psychic shenanigans. I feel like there was some big deal with crystals...like light or dark crystals? And people linking minds? And a love triangle! Like Jack and Kate and Sawyer, but not lame! Except, it was totally lame. I don't remember much about this one. Sorry. Or you're welcome.

The Forbidden Game: I remember even less about this trilogy, but I think the protagonist's name was Jenny (score!) and her friends got her a game (a FORBIDDEN game) for her birthday or something. They all play it and get sucked into it, sort of like Jumangi. There's some guy in the game who keeps fucking with them and he's in love with Jenny. I think his name is Julian and in my mind, he looks like Spike from Buffy, so...hot. I have no idea what else happens or how it ends. Sorry. Or you're welcome.

I was going to write more but now I'm tired. If I find any cheap copies of these books or any other authors (RL Stine! Christopher Pike! Judy Blume! Caroline Cooney! Lois Lowry! Ann M Martin!) I read a lot as a kid, I might do some reviews. Or I might forget I ever said that. Whatever.

find a happy place FIND A HAPPY PLACE

My teacher in fifth grade was named Mrs. Wolfe. It was Mrs. Castrejon the year before who nurtured my love of writing, but it was Mrs. Wolfe who nurtured my love of storytelling. I loved Mrs. Wolfe, idolized her, really, and to this day she remains one of my favorite teachers. I think of her every now and then, usually when I read a book that makes me cry, and I realize that sounds INSANE but hold your horses, I'll explain.

Every day, after lunch and recess, Mrs. Wolfe would pull out an old stool and place it smack dab in the front of our desks. She'd then pull out a book and read to us. I don't remember how long she used to read, sometimes it seemed longer than others, but I always wanted it to last longer, especially if we were in the middle of a good book. At the time, I couldn't understand how some people could just STOP reading in the middle of a book. I couldn't think of much else when I was reading a good book and so would race to finish it so my brain could rest. Not much has changed since then.

I always knew we were in for it if Mrs. Wolfe put a box of tissues near her. She'd cry through the sad parts, even though she'd read most of these books to all of her many classes in years past. And I'd sit in my chair, struggling not to cry with her, because what if no one else was crying OMG SRSLY. This is why I still read books I think might make me cry in the privacy of my own home, which is why when I read the end of The Dealthy Hallows, I found myself alone in bed, working my way through a box of tissues and putting the book down every few minutes because I COULDN'T SEE THE WORDS THROUGH MY TEARS. But I digress.

I don't remember the names of all the books she read over the course of the year, but I do remember the saddest moment in all of those books. For the life of me, I cannot remember the name of the book, and for once, Google was of absolutely no help. But I have faith that one of you might have read the same book as a kid and, who knows, maybe it stuck in your mind as well.

WARNING: this is like the saddest thing ever. What I'm saying is, Heather Anne, you might not want to read this.

OK. So. There's this boy, I think he's 12, and he wants to join a big dog sledding race in Alaska. I think he needs to win money or something to keep the family home or farm or igloo or whatever. So he joins this sledding race with his trusty pet dog who is the best and smartest and bravest dog ever and all the other people in the race are these grown ass men with their grown ass sledding dogs and they all make fun of the little boy because they are all big meanie poopheads.

The race is really hard and the boy and his dog have many adventures and problems but they make it to the end of the race. It's them against this other guy who wins like ALL the races and the boy and his dog are in the lead! They're going to win! AND THEN THE DOG FUCKING DIES RIGHT BEFORE THE FINISH LINE.

It is the MEANEST! STORY! EVER! you guys. What the shit is that? So of course, in class, we're all crying because THE DOG DIED and stories where the dog dies are the saddest stories of all. But it gets worse. The man who was about to come in second to the boy and the dog before THE DOG DIED, the man who wins all the races all the time, stops his sled, picks up the dead dog and carries him over the finish line and then I DROWN IN MY OWN TEARS.

I hope I didn't just traumatize you. I think I traumatized myself all over again. Anyway, does anyone know what that book was? Because I want to write a mean letter to the author.

If a body catch a body comin' through the rye

There are very few storytellers who can stop you dead in your tracks, make you put the book down and gaze into the space in front of you with wide-eyed wonder and let loose your best Keanu-Reeves-WHOA. JD Salinger was one of those storytellers.

The news of his death isn't that old, but I'm sure others will write far more touching tributes than I ever could. Instead, I think I'll just go read some Bananafish.

Baby step to four o'clock. Baby step to four o'clock.

I have had a major burst of productivity lately, a general feeling of needing to Do Things. Last week, Heather Anne told me to write a book and so I started writing a book (yes, again) and wouldn't you know it? Writing did not make my eyes bleed or my fingers turn into tiny snakes or even GIVE ME A HEADACHE. No. It was rather enjoyable. I think I may need to start trading in more TV/Internet surfing time for Writing time. Small price to pay, really. AND ALSO. Weeks and weeks ago I decided that I needed to write a children's book about grieving on account of I can never find enough good grieving books for volunteering. Oh, there are lots and lots of them, but not many that seem to suit my purposes and so I thought, why not just write them myself? So I wrote one. It's sitting in my Google Docs, though, until I figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do with it now. But my point is, I am doing things.

Doing things like working out ON THE WEEKEND, which you'd think would be when I would work out the most anyway because of all the free time, but you'd be wrong. Tam commented last week about this blog here, where a bunch of crazy ass women are doing Jillian's Shred DVD for thirty days in September. At first I was all, "No way in hell could I do that because ow, my knees hurt just THINKING about it," but I started doing it again this weekend anyway. I maybe should not have done it two days in a row because I'm having a bit of trouble with simple activities like WALKING or SITTING UP but progress is supposed to be painful or something. I think I heard that somewhere. Next step? Eating better, meaning eating more food I cook myself and less food that others prepare for me, unless it's Kat doing the preparing because you'd have to be crazypants to turn down anything Kat made you.

Over the weekend, I went from Ew, Cooking to I Need to Make Some Manicotti RIGHT NOW and I don't know why. It's not like I looooove manicotti (although, it is delicious), I just wanted to Make Something and manicotti didn't seem too terribly complicated. I even plan on cooking more this week (I KNOW) and then eating the leftovers because I am a responsible grown woman. Or trying to be. I mean, I also spent most of the weekend watching (almost all of) Season One of Veronica Mars but whatever. Baby steps.

PS: You should probably go check out Abigail, Ashley, and Heather Anne's new TV/Movie/Book review blog. Um. Like now. What are you waiting for?

priorities

I desperately need to go to the grocery but I really only have enough energy for one errand tonight and so I think I'm going to the library instead. Partly because I still don't have much of an appetite and I can just have grilled cheese or something for dinner but mostly because I think reading is more important than eating.

This place is a tomb. I'm going to the nut shop where it's fun.

When I was a kid, I read all the time. Like, ALL THE TIME. A few months ago, my mom was telling me a story about how she was in a waiting room, quite obviously deeply involved with her book (dirty), and someone wouldn't stop trying to have a conversation with her. I was all, "MOM. You used to do that to me all the time!" and she was like, "Well, JENNIE, if I didn't talk to you while you were reading, I'D NEVER HAVE GOTTEN TO TALK TO YOU," because that's how much I read, you guys. TRUTH.

Anyway, I also had this problem in that I thought everything I read was true. I mean, I think I knew that I couldn't really travel to Narnia through a wardrobe and that Ramona Quimby (age 8) was not actually a real person. It was more like I wanted the real world to be more like books, all the time. I wanted to write to Mr. Henshaw and I wanted to run around with Maniac McGee and I dearly, dearly wanted to go to Wayside School, even though it was falling down.

Mostly, though, I wanted to be in The Baby-sitters Club. I went back and forth between which character I wanted to be. Sometimes it was Claudia, with her "keen" fashion sense, but I didn't want to have her mean sister. I did try that thing she did, where she hid food all over her room so she could have fun snacks any time she wanted, but it turns out if you do that in real life, your parents catch you and get mad at you because when they asked you where all the snacks were going, you told them your sister was probably eating them and that, my friends, is called lying and I guess parents don't really like lying or something. But I digress.

Sometimes I wanted to be Mary Anne, but I was already desperately shy and bookish, so that was no good. And sometimes I wanted to be Stacey, but not really because man, she was a Grade-A beeyotch if there ever was one, right? Mostly, I wanted to be Dawn, but only because of her beautiful, long hair and the fact that she lived in a house with SECRET PASSAGEWAYS. I knew our house wasn't anywhere near as old as Dawn's house, but that didn't stop me from searching for secret tunnels in the basement.

But the Club sounded fun, no matter which member you were. Probably because there was absolutely no adult supervision and parents had no problem sending ALL the neighborhood kids off on adventures with 13-year-olds, like remember that one time they all got shipwrecked on an island? I mean, they weren't there long enough for it to get all Lord of the Flies, but still...who sends their kid off on a boat with a 13-YEAR-OLD?!

Unfortunately, I didn't have a boat, but I still thought I'd be a good member. Screw that Red Cross Baby-sitting class I took, I learned way more from The Baby-sitters Club. True story. OK, not really, but they did have those super awesome Kid Kits, full of all sorts of fun stuff to keep little ones occupied. I COVETED those Kid Kits, which I know is a sin or something but there are worse sins so just be glad I'm not out there murdering people or building shrines to the Flying Spaghetti Monster or whatever.

I still sometimes wish that real life was more like books. Less work, more play. Adventures that last pages and pages. Kid Kits. But last night, as I was getting my bag ready for volunteering, I rummaged through some of the stuff I'd collected for it. Stickers. Markers. Play-Doh. Bubbles. And wouldn't you know it? It turns out I'd made my very own Kid Kit, albeit about 15 years late. Maybe this real life thing isn't so bad after all.

So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?

Um, this is embarrassing. My (very) brief hiatus actually starts today. I'm not going to lie to you. I thought yesterday was Friday when I posted this. I am not what they call, oh what's the word, SMART.

Last night was the best night. I finished The Color Purple (which I hadn't read since high school) and the stupid thing made me cry so I had to put it in the freezer. Then I had a quesadilla for dinner (for the second night in a row) and it was effing delicious. Then I read some more. I read SO MUCH, it was magical.

I thought about getting my hair cut last night, before Myrtle Beach, but I decided not to because my hair is going to get all sandy and oceany and beach-crazy ANYWAY so why bother? Instead, I decided to go to the library. We moved sort of far from the library I used to go to, and the new one is in a different branch of libraries, so I had to get a new card. As I was signing up, the librarian lady was all, "did you want to check books out today?" and I was like, "um, duh," and she said I could only get two books! TWO BOOKS?! I'd wanted to get books books to take on vacation and to read at the airport and TWO BOOKS WOULD NOT BE ENOUGH! I took five books to Philadelphia with me, knowing I'd only have time to read at the airport and on the plane, but I took so many because I wasn't sure what I'd want to read.

Anyway. While she was explaining where all the books were, I wanted to yell, "I CAN FIND IT MYSELF," because if there's anything I hate, it's unsolicited help. Although, I never really ask for help, so all help I receive is unsolicited. AND THEN. Some lady who was checking out a bunch of books at the self-check out (sidenote: how awesome is it that libraries are getting self-checkout?) butted into the conversation.

Lady: This is a great library!
Me: OK . . .
Lady: They're all so helpful here. And did you know? You can even get online and pay your fines and request books and look up to see if the book you want is available! You'll just need a password. And if you need to look up a book while you're here, they have computers everywhere that you can use.

I just nodded and smiled, even though I thought about shouting, "I'M FAMILIAR WITH HOW LIBRARIES WORK, LADY, I USED TO WORK AT ONE AND OH MY GOD DO YOU EVEN WORK HERE BLAAAARRRRG." Instead, I just inched away slowly (she was a close-talker) and she transferred her attention to the librarian.

Have you ever tried to pick out ONLY two books? I always end up getting more than I can read in two weeks, but this two-book-minimum was being cruelly enforced, so I had no choice but to cut back on my Book Crazy. I wandered around non-fiction but nothing jumped out at me (That would be weird, right? If books jumped off the shelves?), so I headed over to fiction. While standing at New Fiction, I pulled no fewer than seven books off the shelves and clutched them in my greedy arms until I could decide on just two. I ended up putting all but City of Thieves back, because Heather! Anne! had just given it a glowing review on Goodreads (she mentioned Salinger, which is pretty much all I needed to hear). Then I walked over to Old Fiction (just called Fiction, actually) and picked both Postcards from the Edge (by Princess Leia) and I Am Legend. I decided on I Am Legend because I am super curious about the ending (I guess it's different than the movie) and did you know the book is about vampires, not zombies? I did not know that. I decided to get it, even though Twilight is ruining all the goodwill for vampires that Joss Whedon created. Stupid Twilight. Anyway, I read a bunch of I Am Legend last night and it made me all anxious and then gave me nightmares. If that's not a sign of a good horror novel, I don't know what is.

(hiatus starts . . . NOW)

I want to live in Effington

I feel like I've been so productive today. And it's only three! What other productivity lies in store for me today? No one knows! Except I do. Here is what I've done so far:

• Went to the market for breakfast
• Went to a book fair
  
• Got my hair cut
• Worked out
• showered

OK, I'm working on the shower. And later! Lampl, Heidi, and I will venture to our old stomping grounds to partake in beer! And possibly shots! Because it's a bachelorette party, and there always seem to be shots there. Also penises. And after that, who knows.

The market was way fun. We had pancakes and coffee. See:



The pancakes were free! With donation, anyway. Which is basically free. Then we saw a guy spinning pots. See:



It was very cool and I could have stood there all day and watched him, only then I wouldn't have gotten anything else done.

Then. THEN we went to the book fair. You guys, it was in this giant auditorium filled with tables! And the tables were filled with books! I would have taken a picture, only at first I was too excited and after a while my arms were too full of books to get my phone out. I sort of want to go back, because I feel like I missed buying a bunch of stuff I should probably buy. Like, right now I'm regretting not buying all of those old Berenstein Bears books. Sigh.

there is talk of barfing . . . don't say I didn't warn you

Hi, Internets. It's Tuesday. Just so you know. Some of you may be confused because yesterday was Columbus Day, and so you might not have had to work. I didn't. I'm not bragging or anything, I totally deserved it and here is why. I was supposed to go hang out with my BFFs on Saturday. At a bar. For much drinking. IN THE AFTERNOON and also at night. But here's what happened instead. I took a shower, felt sick, sat on the edge of the bathtub, and then realized I was going to vom and vom hard. And so vom I did, and while I was vomming, I realized I really needed to clean my bathroom.

So I missed hanging out with my BFFs, but luckily Joe brought over some movies so I wouldn't be too bored and Heidi kept me updated throughout the evening (for instance, "we are at mcs and there were naked men") and then she sent me a video of everyone saying they missed me. I finally left the apartment Sunday night because I was going CRAZY. It's weird, because I would willingly stay in the apartment all hermit-like for days at a time if I didn't have to go to work, but if I didn't CHOOSE to stay there, I get all cranky and have to leave immediately.

It's a damn good thing I had yesterday off, since I spent most of the weekend feeling like my stomach was going to rip itself in half. Several important things happened. I rode a dinosaur:



I went to a used bookstore and it smelled like old books and I sort of got lost in the stacks in the back and it was awesome.

I think I have decided to be Sarah Palin for Halloween. And Joe is going to be Joe Six Pack. Really, I wanted to be Liz Lemon because I could just wear my normal clothes and hair and glasses and I'm lazy so that really suits me. Or I could be Punky Brewster. I'll decide later, I'm tired right now.

can you tell me why you have been so-o-o-o-o saa-aaa-aaad?

Today sucks, you guys. Remember a long time ago (on a blog far, far away) when I explained why Tuesday was the worst day of the week? Well. Allow me to explain again, because I'm too lazy to go back and find that post. See, Monday automatically blows, because it's Monday and you're tired (well, I'm tired) and cranky and busy catching up on work, but you EXPECT that from a Monday. Where do you think "looks like somebody's got a case of the Mondays," came from? Also, has anyone ever said that to you? Someone said it to me once and I punched them in the babymaker.

Anyway. Wednesday is sort of awesome because it's Hump Day, meaning the week is half over and also you get to say "hump" a lot. Thursday is almost Friday, which makes it easier to get through PLUS ALSO The Office is on. Friday IS Friday and most of the time I'm so happy on Friday, I'm all, "I want to have your babies, Friday." True story. Saturday and Sunday are self-explanatory, although Sunday sort of sucks because right around 6 o'clock is when the end-of-the-weekend depression starts sinking in. But it's still not enough to ruin the ENTIRE day.

Tuesday, however, oh Tuesday. Tuesday is just there. It's too blah to hate it with any real sort of passion and it drags on and on until I have to poke myself in the eyeballs just to stay awake.

Today sucks particularly hard, because not ONLY is it Tuesday, but I didn't work yesterday so it feels like Monday and so it's sort of like Monday and Tuesday have formed an unholy alliance and their main objective is to make me jump out the window. I did accomplish a lot this weekend, though. I wrote some articles, helped my grandma and great-aunt turn 70 (they didn't need much help, it turns out), drank a lot of beer and wine, ate my weight in cookout food, read two books and ONE OF THEM I read in less than 24 hours (my skills, do they frighten you?), made some new friends, and Heidi and I finally beat Rayman. When we finished it, I wandered around the apartment for a while, wondering what to do with myself because it felt like my life's goal had finally been reached. I considered making a new life goal, like climbing Mt. Everest or something, but instead I just started another book. I'm trying to push this other book out of my mind, partly because I HATED IT but mostly because, between that book and a conversation I had over the weekend, I have not been able to turn off my brain. Seriously, it won't shut up. Which meant I couldn't sleep last night which means I'm way tired and all THIS means that today sucks. And now we have come full circle. The circle of suck. It's beautiful, yes?

She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.

If I call you very often, then you know I leave never-ending, rambling messages. I try to leave normal messages for people I don't know very well yet (because I want them to, you know, WANT to talk to me) but the people I've known for a long time get to listen to me babble to their voicemail, usually until the lady cuts me off. Heidi knows this better than anyone. For instance, yesterday I called her after work to tell her I was going to the library. Because I was afraid if she got home from work and I wasn't already sitting on the sofa reading, she'd think I got kidnapped by gorillas or something. And don't tell me gorillas would never kidnap me. They're planning something, I just know it.

Anyway, here is the message I left her:

Heeeey, it's me. OH MY GOD, so I just got gas and guess what? Well, first of all, it cost me $40 to fill up my teeny tiny car and THAT'S NOT FAIR. $3.95 for gas? WHAT THE HELL? Anyway, so I was pulling into the gas station and I saw THE MYSTERY MACHINE. THE FREAKING MYSTERY MACHINE. I thought Scooby Doo was gonna jump out, but he didn't. Oh, so I'm on my way to the library because I'm almost done with my book and I can't remember if I have any books I haven't read yet, so clearly I need to get some from the library. I hope my fine isn't too big. It's OK if it is, though. I don't mind paying my library fines and you know why? Because then they can buy more books. And that benefits the entire city, really. I'm such a good person. My irresponsibility means the library can buy more books and then I can read the books and then I can take the books back late and then I can pay my fine and then THEY CAN BUY MORE BOOKS. So, I'm going to the library, I'll see you at home, OK BYE.

That is almost word for word, I think. Heidi is much better at getting to the point. Here was the message she left me in response:

YOU DON'T NEED ANY MORE BOOKS. GET OUT OF THE LIBRARY.

What she doesn't know is, yuh-huh, I do SO need more books, because the other day I stumbled upon THIS LIST and realized with shame, shame, SHAAAAAAME, how few of them I had read. And so I printed the first 50, thinking I'd be able to find at least a couple of them at the library and wouldn't you know it? I found the first four (although, I'd already read one, SCORE) and so I'm starting with #1, Never Let Me Go and I'll tell you what. I could not put that book down last night and I stayed up far too late reading it and I am really sleepy right now, but I don't care. I thought about calling in sick today so I could stay home and read (also because it's raining), but decided against it in case my boss found out and fired me for being a slacker a-hole. After all, I need this job so I can pay my library fines.