Prompt: Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).
Two things happened this year that made me feel alive, two things that are opposite sides of the same coin, really. I got married in September, a day full of happiness and fun and love, and then my grandma died in October and there were days of sadness and family and, you guessed it, love again.
When I think about both events, spending time with friends in the days before the wedding, the rehearsal dinner, the day itself, and a month later, the last time I saw Grandma, the visitation, the funeral, the days of confusion, I tend to focus on specific moments, the most important flashing through my mind in quick succession.
My grandma couldn't come to the wedding, but she was present that day. The pastor surprised us all by taking a moment to remember her during the ceremony, and I concentrated on blinking away the tears that quickly formed in my eyes. I sat next to my great-aunt, my Grandma's twin sister, after the ceremony and she held my hand, told me how the pastor's words had touched her, and we sat for a quiet moment together.
The wedding ceremony itself was a blur. My feet hurt, my arm was tired from holding the bouquet, and my cheeks already ached from smiling and laughing. We were so happy, walking out into the church foyer after the ceremony, holding hands, hugging friends and family, taking a giddy ride to the reception.
The reception was...I don't even know. There was Twister and dancing and there were fake mustaches EVERYWHERE, there were cupcakes and soft pretzels, and a bottle of wine and Hogwarts being passed around on the dance floor. I danced with my family and old friends and new friends and did I mention Hogwarts? I walked arm in arm to the bar (naturally) with my dad to get a drink, grinned at my parents dancing with their best friends, delighted in seeing my sister dance with mine. If the wedding ceremony was a blur, the reception was even hazier, a crazy whirligig of fun, if you will (™ Xander Harris), a funhouse ride swirling us about in an uncontrollable dance, finally spitting us back out at my parents' house for more celebration.
There was a moment, though, at my parents' house, that my dad and his brother and sister and I stood in a huddle in the kitchen, arms around shoulders, friends and family eddying around us. I don't remember who said it or how it was said, but someone made reference to how much fun Grandma would have had and how much she'd been missed that day, and we stood there, all bittersweet smiles and aching hearts, until we were swept away by the general merriment of the night. We didn't know she would be gone in a month. How could we?
The days of her visitation and funeral passed in a similar blur, but with more tears. My eyes were swollen from a week of crying and still my body had more tears, my high-heeled feet hurt, my heart hurt, and all I wanted to do was hide. But, as always seems to happen, those times when you want to run and hide are exactly the times you can't, and so I went to the visitation, made small talk with almost-strangers and kept my eye on my family, gravitating to whoever might need me most. I went to the funeral, jumped up to read when it was my turn, and spent the rest of it with my eyes forward, tears streaming down my face, holding Joe's hand, my other arm around my sister's shoulders.
It was a sunny autumn day, brisk but not cold, as we gathered around the graveside to say our final goodbyes. I tried not to stumble in my heels. I smiled at my sister, put a rose on other family plots, hugged a crying cousin as we walked away from Grandma one last time. I felt too alive that day and all too human.
We went to my parents' house after both the wedding reception and the funeral, my entire family gathered, joyous to be together, missing those not there, and all of us grinning and crying and laughing, just grateful to be alive and loving each other.
Showing posts with label family bonding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family bonding. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
this involves a lot of poop talk so don't say I didn't warn you
I already said I hadn't blogged in forever because of my gastrointestinal issues but really that's no excuse because how much energy does it really take to sit up (barely) with my laptop resting on my legs or the sofa or whatever and type up some nonsense? Not that much energy, really, but I still didn't blog. I was sick on Thursday and Friday but went to work anyway (yes, I'm THAT coworker) because why would I want to waste my sick days at home being sick? Please. Anyway, I want to save as many as possible because at the end of the year we get our sick days paid out and I want money, lots and lots of money.
I did try and be somewhat social on Sunday, and went over to my parents' house because they were having people over for pasta and garlic bread. That's right, pasta and garlic bread. Anyway, that ended up being a total clusterfuck because I spent most of the time in the bathroom (TMI) which led to conversations like this one which, when Joe told me about it later, made me recoil in absolute horror for several reasons:
My sister: Where is Jennie?
Mom: She's in the bathroom. She's not feeling very well.
My sister: Oh, is she pregnant?
Um, no. Thanks, though. This, of course, led to several more fun conversations about my stomach issues and non-pregnancy issues which made my head explode about 14 times because FIRST OF ALL, if I want everyone in the world to know my poop business then I will just tell the Internet like a normal person and ALSO I'm not very good at math (anymore) but I'm pretty sure that bad poops does not equal pregnancy. What made it even worse is that I was on my period at that very moment (OOPS TMI). But whatever, according to my mom, I probably had the swine flu. Have the swine flu. One of those.
Anyway, so that was fun. If by fun, you mean, "OMG OMG GET ME OUT OF HERE PLEASE I WANT TO CRAWL UNDER THE PORCH SO I'M ALONE WHEN I DIE OF NON-PREGNANCY-INDUCED DIARRHEA OH YES I JUST SAID DIARRHEA, INTERNETS, GET OVER IT OK?"
Ahem. Then my cousin was all, "hey, Uncle Jim (who is my dad), would you care if Jennie and Joe moved in together before they were married," which was also fun if you're going by the definition above.
The beginning of my week last week was much better, because I had an awesome night of volunteering on Tuesday, which sounds weird because we go there to talk about dead people but whatever, it was good. There were two little girls in my group and they liked drawing and playing with My Little Ponies, so that's what we did and that is why I have My Little Ponies in my car. Also, one of them was talking about how her boyfriend is really short (yeah, she's 5) and how people call him midget and I was like, "oh, I bet he doesn't like that," and she was all, "no, he doesn't really mind," so then I thought, "well, maybe he really IS a midget," but I didn't say that and then she demonstrated how short he is and I was like, "wow, that is short!" and she was like, "yeah, he's not tall like you are," and I wanted to hug her because I haven't been tall since the sixth grade (that is when I stopped growing) and it was the best day ever, you guys. True story.
Monday, August 31, 2009
murder most foul
This weekend began with a rainy baseball game and ended with a murder mystery. Joe and I met my parents on Friday at Brixx, a restaurant/pub type thing across the street from the stadium. We were really pushing it to make it to the 7 o'clock game, but as the sky was turning a little Angry Thunder Face, we decided to eat dinner and drink some beers before heading over. As my dad pointed out, beer is cheaper at Brixx than it is at the game, and who am I to argue with such logic in this economy?
So I ate a burger topped in salsa and jalapenos (YUM) and somehow we ended up with not one, not two, but THREE baskets of chips and queso and try as we might, we just couldn't eat all that cheese. We gave it a good effort, though, even turning our waffle fries into CHEESE waffle fries and later that night I realized that I should not eat so much cheese in one sitting. IT'S SO GOOD. Shut up, stomach, you'll eat 10 pounds of cheese AND YOU'LL LIKE IT.
Anyway, we got rained on at the game PLUS ALSO they lost PLUS ALSO I swear to everything holy there were bats flying around but everyone was all, "no, Jennie, they're birds" but they've never been traumatized by a bat so their opinions don't count.
Because of the whole rained-on thing, any plans for a postgame drink were abandoned because as much as I like bars, I do not like sitting in them when half of my butt is encased in wet, slowly-drying jeans, so instead Joe and I changed into pajamas and watched Aliens and I might have whimpered like a little girl in parts but OMG YOU GUYS, Kat was right, aliens are effing terrifying. True story.
We saw Inglourious Basterds on Saturday, which ALSO might have made me whimper like a little girl in parts but that is because Quentin Tarantino is a sick bastard (basterd?). Good movie, though. I read a review somewhere that described Brad Pitt as "Coen-brothers perfect" and that might be the most apt description of his performance, like, EVER. My point is, you should definitely go see it, just be forewarned that you may never look at Ryan the Temp the same way after you've seen him scalp someone. Um. Spoiler?
And then Sunday. What to say about Sunday? I thought about working out after I saw Joe's brother Facebook that he had just signed up for a 5K, but instead I sat under a blanket and read my book for most of the afternoon. I eventually dragged myself off of the couch so I could get ready for the BBQ/Birthday Party/Murder Mystery Party that Joe's friends were throwing. All I have to say is, whoever assigned the characters must read this blog because part of my character's description was about how she tells long, rambling stories that go nowhere and if that's not the theme of this blog then I don't know what is. It turns out that the butler doesn't always do it because, in this case, THERE WAS NO BUTLER and also I discovered I suck at murder mysteries because I mostly just sat back and giggled at everyone, forgot to pay attention to any of the clues, and guessed myself as the murderer just because I had no idea.
Later we played cornhole and I did better at that. For one game anyway. But I totally counted it as exercise because I was, you know, standing and holding a cup and stuff. I meant to get up early this morning and work out, but the fallish breeze was blowing in and it was so warm under the covers that I couldn't drag myself out of bed any sooner than I had to.
Tonight, Heidi and I are going to Nancy's for wine and pizza and catching up, because I'm trying this new thing where I drag the weekend kicking and screaming into the week so I don't notice that it's Monday. It would be a lot more effective, I think, if I wasn't sitting at work right now.
So I ate a burger topped in salsa and jalapenos (YUM) and somehow we ended up with not one, not two, but THREE baskets of chips and queso and try as we might, we just couldn't eat all that cheese. We gave it a good effort, though, even turning our waffle fries into CHEESE waffle fries and later that night I realized that I should not eat so much cheese in one sitting. IT'S SO GOOD. Shut up, stomach, you'll eat 10 pounds of cheese AND YOU'LL LIKE IT.
Anyway, we got rained on at the game PLUS ALSO they lost PLUS ALSO I swear to everything holy there were bats flying around but everyone was all, "no, Jennie, they're birds" but they've never been traumatized by a bat so their opinions don't count.
Because of the whole rained-on thing, any plans for a postgame drink were abandoned because as much as I like bars, I do not like sitting in them when half of my butt is encased in wet, slowly-drying jeans, so instead Joe and I changed into pajamas and watched Aliens and I might have whimpered like a little girl in parts but OMG YOU GUYS, Kat was right, aliens are effing terrifying. True story.
We saw Inglourious Basterds on Saturday, which ALSO might have made me whimper like a little girl in parts but that is because Quentin Tarantino is a sick bastard (basterd?). Good movie, though. I read a review somewhere that described Brad Pitt as "Coen-brothers perfect" and that might be the most apt description of his performance, like, EVER. My point is, you should definitely go see it, just be forewarned that you may never look at Ryan the Temp the same way after you've seen him scalp someone. Um. Spoiler?
And then Sunday. What to say about Sunday? I thought about working out after I saw Joe's brother Facebook that he had just signed up for a 5K, but instead I sat under a blanket and read my book for most of the afternoon. I eventually dragged myself off of the couch so I could get ready for the BBQ/Birthday Party/Murder Mystery Party that Joe's friends were throwing. All I have to say is, whoever assigned the characters must read this blog because part of my character's description was about how she tells long, rambling stories that go nowhere and if that's not the theme of this blog then I don't know what is. It turns out that the butler doesn't always do it because, in this case, THERE WAS NO BUTLER and also I discovered I suck at murder mysteries because I mostly just sat back and giggled at everyone, forgot to pay attention to any of the clues, and guessed myself as the murderer just because I had no idea.
Later we played cornhole and I did better at that. For one game anyway. But I totally counted it as exercise because I was, you know, standing and holding a cup and stuff. I meant to get up early this morning and work out, but the fallish breeze was blowing in and it was so warm under the covers that I couldn't drag myself out of bed any sooner than I had to.
Tonight, Heidi and I are going to Nancy's for wine and pizza and catching up, because I'm trying this new thing where I drag the weekend kicking and screaming into the week so I don't notice that it's Monday. It would be a lot more effective, I think, if I wasn't sitting at work right now.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
don't care how, I want it now
In just a bit, Joe and I are going to go meet my parents and various other family members at a beer tasting. What, what does your family do to bond? We're headed out in 90+ degree weather even though a person with any common sense at all would just go buy a bunch of beer and have their own mini-tasting at home and soak up the AC. I've never claimed to have common sense, though.
I'm going to try and be on my best behavior, but I'm sort of afraid I'll end up running around like Veruca Salt in the chocolate factory. You know, a bit like this:
I'm going to try and be on my best behavior, but I'm sort of afraid I'll end up running around like Veruca Salt in the chocolate factory. You know, a bit like this:
Friday, March 20, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, March 13, 2009
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."
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."
Thursday, February 5, 2009
this morning I hit myself in the face with my car door
Yesterday morning, I woke up to my cell phone vibrating away on my nightstand. Weird, I thought, I wonder what that's all about. Then I realized that OH someone was calling me. Really early. I squinted at the phone and saw it was one of my parents calling. OH NO OH NO OH NO, my brain screamed, because NOT ONLY do my parents never call me in the morning, but my grandma is having surgery ON HER BRAIN today. I almost didn't want to pick up the phone, because everyone knows if you just ignore problems or bad things they go away forever.
Me: Hello?
Mom: Hi, Jen, NOTHING'S WRONG DON'T WORRY.
Me: Jesus.
Mom: Did you know Joe's dad is on the news?
Me: ...what?
Mom: Joe's dad. He's on the news with his barbershop quartet.
Me: Oh, yeah. He told me.
Mom: ...I thought you might be watching it.
Me: No.
Mom: ...
Me: I'm gonna go back to sleep now.
Mom: OK!
Geez, Mom. Give a girl a heart attack, why don't you? So, yes, my grandma is having brain surgery today. I don't think it's SUPER SUPER serious, and it's similar to the one she had last year, but it's a bit more invasive and, you know, they're poking around in her brain. That never seems quite right to me. Anyway, my point is, please think good thoughts today. That is all. I hope everyone is having a super Thursday. I keep thinking it's Friday. That has happened to me every day this week since TUESDAY. I blame the groundhog BECAUSE I CAN.
Me: Hello?
Mom: Hi, Jen, NOTHING'S WRONG DON'T WORRY.
Me: Jesus.
Mom: Did you know Joe's dad is on the news?
Me: ...what?
Mom: Joe's dad. He's on the news with his barbershop quartet.
Me: Oh, yeah. He told me.
Mom: ...I thought you might be watching it.
Me: No.
Mom: ...
Me: I'm gonna go back to sleep now.
Mom: OK!
Geez, Mom. Give a girl a heart attack, why don't you? So, yes, my grandma is having brain surgery today. I don't think it's SUPER SUPER serious, and it's similar to the one she had last year, but it's a bit more invasive and, you know, they're poking around in her brain. That never seems quite right to me. Anyway, my point is, please think good thoughts today. That is all. I hope everyone is having a super Thursday. I keep thinking it's Friday. That has happened to me every day this week since TUESDAY. I blame the groundhog BECAUSE I CAN.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Me fail English? That's unpossible!
Firstlies, take this quiz. I missed the first question (DAMMIT) but got the rest right. Thank you, Kat, for sharing this quiz and ALSO for telling me to wear red today for good luck. So far, so good. My red shoes are squeaky, though. What's that about? We have to wear these work badges around our necks on lanyards (much like the freshman leashes we wore our keys on in college . . . what?) and I also have this token on mine that bangs into my badge every time I take a step. So when I walk it's like, "smack smack smack" unless I hold onto my badge so the badge and token stop banging each other FOR FIVE SECONDS OH MY GOD. Anyway, today I'm squeaking when I walk and my badge and token are banging and it's all very loud. My point is, I can't sneak up on anyone at work, which is unfortunate. I'm very good at sneaking. And then jumping out! And scaring! Ask Joe. This one time I think I almost made him pee his pants a little because I jumped out from the dark and went "AHHHHH!" It was like that time Derek Zoolander went into the coal mine. You know? YOU know.
Now it is time to completely change subjects. Heidi's family had a memorial service for her grandpa yesterday, and I spent the majority of it pinching myself to take my mind off of crying. Someone once told me that if you're about to cry and you pinch the fleshy part of your hand between your thumb and forefinger, it will make you stop. I don't really know if it works but I kept doing it yesterday. Of course, then I wanted to cry because I was pinching myself, but whatever. Give Heidi all your hugs! Now!
Good news, everyone! Tam's grandpa is on the mend. That doesn't mean you can stop thinking good thoughts. Oh no. Think MORE good thoughts. They're working.
Also, happy birthday to three-hole-punch Steve. Congratulations, my friend. Today you are a man. (I don't know)
I feel like I did a lot this weekend. I think because both Friday and Saturday nights I was out PAST TWO IN THE A.M. Amazing, yes? It's like I remembered I'm not 80 and also that bars stay open that late. Even more amazing is that I was not drunk at ANY of these bars and I didn't fall down at all. That is both amazing and unprecedented. We saw some bands Friday night (and met Sad Captain) and on Saturday, while we were waiting for Heidi and her coworkers to finish their bowling tournament (you heard me), we sat in a dark corner of a busy bar, drinking Miller Lites, listening to a not-terrible rock band, eating cheese con queso, watching two men and a woman play grabass with each other in front of the dartboard, and trying to figure out how to turn on the flash on my camera phone. That last one was an EPIC FAIL but the rest worked out quite nicely. Last night, my parents fed me dinner and my mom gave me a billion pieces of kitchenware. I spent a great deal of last night reorganizing the kitchen to make room for the new dishes. This means I now have a lot of stuff to either put in storage or give to Goodwill. I'm leaning toward giving it all to Goodwill. Except for the fish plate. Lampl would kill me if I got rid of the fish plate. Do you like how I'm being all enigmatic about the fish plate? No? OK.
In other news, this week on The Collective, we're supposed to write about embarrassment and failure. I'm having a hard time narrowing down which embarrassing story to tell. Sigh.
This is more random than usual. I'm sorry. Wait. No. I'm not sorry at all.
Now it is time to completely change subjects. Heidi's family had a memorial service for her grandpa yesterday, and I spent the majority of it pinching myself to take my mind off of crying. Someone once told me that if you're about to cry and you pinch the fleshy part of your hand between your thumb and forefinger, it will make you stop. I don't really know if it works but I kept doing it yesterday. Of course, then I wanted to cry because I was pinching myself, but whatever. Give Heidi all your hugs! Now!
Good news, everyone! Tam's grandpa is on the mend. That doesn't mean you can stop thinking good thoughts. Oh no. Think MORE good thoughts. They're working.
Also, happy birthday to three-hole-punch Steve. Congratulations, my friend. Today you are a man. (I don't know)
I feel like I did a lot this weekend. I think because both Friday and Saturday nights I was out PAST TWO IN THE A.M. Amazing, yes? It's like I remembered I'm not 80 and also that bars stay open that late. Even more amazing is that I was not drunk at ANY of these bars and I didn't fall down at all. That is both amazing and unprecedented. We saw some bands Friday night (and met Sad Captain) and on Saturday, while we were waiting for Heidi and her coworkers to finish their bowling tournament (you heard me), we sat in a dark corner of a busy bar, drinking Miller Lites, listening to a not-terrible rock band, eating cheese con queso, watching two men and a woman play grabass with each other in front of the dartboard, and trying to figure out how to turn on the flash on my camera phone. That last one was an EPIC FAIL but the rest worked out quite nicely. Last night, my parents fed me dinner and my mom gave me a billion pieces of kitchenware. I spent a great deal of last night reorganizing the kitchen to make room for the new dishes. This means I now have a lot of stuff to either put in storage or give to Goodwill. I'm leaning toward giving it all to Goodwill. Except for the fish plate. Lampl would kill me if I got rid of the fish plate. Do you like how I'm being all enigmatic about the fish plate? No? OK.
In other news, this week on The Collective, we're supposed to write about embarrassment and failure. I'm having a hard time narrowing down which embarrassing story to tell. Sigh.
This is more random than usual. I'm sorry. Wait. No. I'm not sorry at all.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Happy Birthday, Jesus. Sorry your party's so lame.
IT IS SO COLD OUTSIDE. My brain is frozen. You're probably all, "oh, poor Jennie is cold, somebody better call the WAAAAAAHmbulance," but you know what? Eff you. Because it's REALLY COLD OUTSIDE.
I did a lot of Christmas celebrating this weekend. Like. Almost all weekend. For realsies. Heidi and I went over to Tamara's Friday night for pizza and cookies and drinking and Love, Actually. Tamara didn't have a copy of Love, Actually and asked us to bring a copy (because we have two, naturally), and I was all, "haha, I will BUY Love, Actually and give it to Tamara as a Hanukkah present and we will pretend we forgot it and she will call us bitches and then open her present and we will laugh and laugh and laugh." That is essentially exactly the way it happened, only I'm not sure if she called us bitches. I don't really remember. Anyway, then we drank margaritas and killed an entire pizza and opened presents and watched Love, Actually and all was right with the world.
On Saturday, Joe and I went to my aunt's house to celebrate Christmas with my dad's side of the family. When we got there, the food was spread out all over the dining room AND the kitchen, and we concentrated on eating for a good hour. I ate approximately four hanky pankies (spicy sausage and cheese melted together and then baked on tiny pieces of bread OH MY GOD they are the food of the heavens). Then we opened presents and THEN we played Rock Band for so long that I thought for sure that my arm was going to fall off from playing the guitar for the longest song in the history of the world. After we turned the game over to the kids, we decided to play Scene It, only no one but Joe really remembered the rules and god love him, he really tried to explain them and then tried to get everyone to watch the How To tutorial on the game, but we are a rowdy bunch and keeping our attention for longer than about 30 seconds . . . um, doesn't work. This is a pretty good representation of what a Jennie's Family Christmas is like, and I wouldn't change it for all the naked Jake Gyllenhaals in the world:
The How To tutorial is playing and everyone watches for approximately .05 seconds, but then my dad farts and everyone rushes to cover their noses, and the dogs walk all over the game board and knock all the pieces over, and my uncle is yelling down the stairs for the kids to turn the volume down because Rock Band is drowning out all other sounds in the universe, and my other uncle is ignoring everyone because he's playing with the toy chainsaw my dad got him for Christmas, and suddenly the tutorial is over and someone asks how we play and my head explodes a little and then we finally start playing but my dad is TOTALLY CHEATING because he's all, "you can't play that buzz card and make us lose our turn because we already rolled," and "I think you move your piece AFTER you answer the question correctly," and then people are YELLING OUT THE ANSWER when it's not their turn (JOE), and no one believes me when I say Dustin Hoffman was in Wag the Dog, Papillion, and Dick Tracy even though they know I am the Rainman of movie trivia and then my uncle is saying that The Royal Tenenbaums is a terrible movie and I'm all, "didn't we get into this fight last time we played?" and yes. Yes, we did.
I did a lot of Christmas celebrating this weekend. Like. Almost all weekend. For realsies. Heidi and I went over to Tamara's Friday night for pizza and cookies and drinking and Love, Actually. Tamara didn't have a copy of Love, Actually and asked us to bring a copy (because we have two, naturally), and I was all, "haha, I will BUY Love, Actually and give it to Tamara as a Hanukkah present and we will pretend we forgot it and she will call us bitches and then open her present and we will laugh and laugh and laugh." That is essentially exactly the way it happened, only I'm not sure if she called us bitches. I don't really remember. Anyway, then we drank margaritas and killed an entire pizza and opened presents and watched Love, Actually and all was right with the world.
On Saturday, Joe and I went to my aunt's house to celebrate Christmas with my dad's side of the family. When we got there, the food was spread out all over the dining room AND the kitchen, and we concentrated on eating for a good hour. I ate approximately four hanky pankies (spicy sausage and cheese melted together and then baked on tiny pieces of bread OH MY GOD they are the food of the heavens). Then we opened presents and THEN we played Rock Band for so long that I thought for sure that my arm was going to fall off from playing the guitar for the longest song in the history of the world. After we turned the game over to the kids, we decided to play Scene It, only no one but Joe really remembered the rules and god love him, he really tried to explain them and then tried to get everyone to watch the How To tutorial on the game, but we are a rowdy bunch and keeping our attention for longer than about 30 seconds . . . um, doesn't work. This is a pretty good representation of what a Jennie's Family Christmas is like, and I wouldn't change it for all the naked Jake Gyllenhaals in the world:
The How To tutorial is playing and everyone watches for approximately .05 seconds, but then my dad farts and everyone rushes to cover their noses, and the dogs walk all over the game board and knock all the pieces over, and my uncle is yelling down the stairs for the kids to turn the volume down because Rock Band is drowning out all other sounds in the universe, and my other uncle is ignoring everyone because he's playing with the toy chainsaw my dad got him for Christmas, and suddenly the tutorial is over and someone asks how we play and my head explodes a little and then we finally start playing but my dad is TOTALLY CHEATING because he's all, "you can't play that buzz card and make us lose our turn because we already rolled," and "I think you move your piece AFTER you answer the question correctly," and then people are YELLING OUT THE ANSWER when it's not their turn (JOE), and no one believes me when I say Dustin Hoffman was in Wag the Dog, Papillion, and Dick Tracy even though they know I am the Rainman of movie trivia and then my uncle is saying that The Royal Tenenbaums is a terrible movie and I'm all, "didn't we get into this fight last time we played?" and yes. Yes, we did.
Friday, December 19, 2008
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!
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!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
WORST. DAY. EVER. Week
Earlier this week, Heather Anne proclaimed a state of emergency and by state of emergency I mean "WORST. DAY. EVER. Week." It's been a while since we've had one, and I think this week qualifies. I didn't want to believe it. I'm pretty good at denial, but things have stacked up and yep . . . it is now officially "WORST. DAY. EVER. Week." I understand this may not be affecting you all, but for those of you who have been affected . . . I'm sorry. But at least it's almost over, yes? Yes.
That's not to say it's been all bad. Sure, work has sucked donkey balls (two words: SOFTWARE CONVERSION) every day so far, but today I get to do detective work and fix things, and that's sort of fun BECAUSE I'M A NERD. And I had to go to the gyno on Monday, but that gave me something to blog about, and who doesn't love hooha talk? Also, there was a big, dumb ice storm on Tuesday (not like the movie, though, with the swingers and the itty, bitty Frodo and the tween sex), but it was practically melted by Wednesday morning. And my cell phone charger broke, meaning my phone was quickly dying, but then I realized it was time to UPGRADE and so UPGRADE I did. I think my new phone and I will be very happy together.
Oh yeah, my mom called me yesterday and told me they were taking my grandma to the hospital with what, to me, sounded like a stroke, but it turned out she was fine. And, you know, it gave me a chance to spend some quality time with my parents and some dude with a puke bucket in the ER waiting room.
Anyway, this week has been a bit of a disaster, but like I said, it's almost over. And I have nothing to do tonight but some Christmas shopping and TV watching, AND AWESOME TV WATCHING at that. Thank you, TiVo, for recording the Muppets. They can fix everything. And if, for some reason, they can't, then I'm sure those Christmas cookies my mom gave me will do the trick.
That's not to say it's been all bad. Sure, work has sucked donkey balls (two words: SOFTWARE CONVERSION) every day so far, but today I get to do detective work and fix things, and that's sort of fun BECAUSE I'M A NERD. And I had to go to the gyno on Monday, but that gave me something to blog about, and who doesn't love hooha talk? Also, there was a big, dumb ice storm on Tuesday (not like the movie, though, with the swingers and the itty, bitty Frodo and the tween sex), but it was practically melted by Wednesday morning. And my cell phone charger broke, meaning my phone was quickly dying, but then I realized it was time to UPGRADE and so UPGRADE I did. I think my new phone and I will be very happy together.
Oh yeah, my mom called me yesterday and told me they were taking my grandma to the hospital with what, to me, sounded like a stroke, but it turned out she was fine. And, you know, it gave me a chance to spend some quality time with my parents and some dude with a puke bucket in the ER waiting room.
Anyway, this week has been a bit of a disaster, but like I said, it's almost over. And I have nothing to do tonight but some Christmas shopping and TV watching, AND AWESOME TV WATCHING at that. Thank you, TiVo, for recording the Muppets. They can fix everything. And if, for some reason, they can't, then I'm sure those Christmas cookies my mom gave me will do the trick.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
they call me The Jackal
Did you know that Thanksgiving is next week? Well, Thanksgiving is next week. I'm not doing anything crazy this Thanksgiving, like running a race or driving 896 hours to DC, because I'm working the day after Thanksgiving. I'm OK with this (no, I'm not fuckshitdamn). I am, however, attempting the unimaginable. I'm cooking something for Thanksgiving dinner.
DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
Alright, FINE, I'm only making the green bean casserole. And for some reason my mom already bought all the ingredients, so I just have to go over and mix them all together. I realize green bean casserole is like, the easiest thing EVER to make, but last time I asked if I could make anything, I was put in charge of bringing the rolls. Bring them I did, and they were delicious, but I wanted a bit more responsibility this year, especially since I will most likely end up eating at least half of the mashed potatoes.
Speaking of food, I forgot it's the time of year where I eat nonstop. Crap. Like, yesterday, we had a carry in for someone's birthday. I brought macaroni salad (bought, not made), and there were deviled eggs and appetizers and fruit and BBQ chicken and OH MY GOD the best broccoli cheese soup I have ever had in my entire life. Today my boss is ordering pizza for lunch and I'm going to try and avoid it since I had pizza for dinner last night, but if it's really good pizza, I'm not sure I'll be able to. There are also leftover bagels and muffins that we stole from the IT department's meeting yesterday. What, it's not like they were going to eat it. They don't even eat. They survive on coffee and cigarettes.
My point is, I picked a bad week to forget to work out. (Forget, heh.) So I should probably do that tonight. And tomorrow. And then it's the weekend, so all bets are off, because my friends will be here and, this is just a guess, but I think they'll want to do all manner of unhealthy things, what with the eating good food and drinking good booze and . . . that's pretty much it. I'll barely have time to sleep, let alone work out. Please. Priorities, people.
DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
Alright, FINE, I'm only making the green bean casserole. And for some reason my mom already bought all the ingredients, so I just have to go over and mix them all together. I realize green bean casserole is like, the easiest thing EVER to make, but last time I asked if I could make anything, I was put in charge of bringing the rolls. Bring them I did, and they were delicious, but I wanted a bit more responsibility this year, especially since I will most likely end up eating at least half of the mashed potatoes.
Speaking of food, I forgot it's the time of year where I eat nonstop. Crap. Like, yesterday, we had a carry in for someone's birthday. I brought macaroni salad (bought, not made), and there were deviled eggs and appetizers and fruit and BBQ chicken and OH MY GOD the best broccoli cheese soup I have ever had in my entire life. Today my boss is ordering pizza for lunch and I'm going to try and avoid it since I had pizza for dinner last night, but if it's really good pizza, I'm not sure I'll be able to. There are also leftover bagels and muffins that we stole from the IT department's meeting yesterday. What, it's not like they were going to eat it. They don't even eat. They survive on coffee and cigarettes.
My point is, I picked a bad week to forget to work out. (Forget, heh.) So I should probably do that tonight. And tomorrow. And then it's the weekend, so all bets are off, because my friends will be here and, this is just a guess, but I think they'll want to do all manner of unhealthy things, what with the eating good food and drinking good booze and . . . that's pretty much it. I'll barely have time to sleep, let alone work out. Please. Priorities, people.
Friday, October 31, 2008
I've learned there are three things you don't discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin.
So. I signed up for NaBloPoMo again this year, and will be posting every day in November. Remember how I did it last year? And then didn't blog for all of December? Yeah, we'll see how it goes this time.
I'm going to make it easier on myself, though. I started some stories . . . um, a long time ago and posted the first part, but WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW is I've been working on them in secret ever since then. And when I say working on them, I mean I'll write 100 words about every two weeks, when I remember I'm supposed to be writing stories. So I'll be continuing one or both of those throughout November so I don't have to come up with stuff about my life to write about every day. You know, I say that is my plan right now, but that could very well change tomorrow. I think you know by now that you should take everything I say with a grain of salt. What does that even mean? Take it with a grain of salt . . . what?
Well. According to Wikipedia:
(With) a grain of salt is a literal translation of a Latin phrase, (cum*) grano salis.
In common parlance, if something is to be taken with a grain of salt, it means that a copious measure of skepticism should be applied regarding a claim; that it should not be blindly accepted and believed without any doubt or reservation. According to the Oxford English Dictionary "to take 'it' with a grain of salt" means "to accept a thing less than fully". It dates this usage back to 1647.
The phrase comes from Pliny the Elder's Naturalis Historia, regarding the discovery of a recipe for an antidote to a poison. In the antidote, one of the ingredients was a grain of salt. Threats involving the poison were thus to be taken "with a grain of salt" and therefore less seriously. An alternative account says that the Roman general believed he could make himself immune to poison by ingesting small amounts of various poisons, and he took this treatment with a grain of salt to help him swallow the poison. In this version, the salt is not the antidote, it was taken merely to assist in swallowing the poison.
So BASICALLY I just compared my words to poison, and if you drink the poison, take some antidote that has a grain of salt in it. Or you could just try eating a grain of salt, but you'll probably die. Sorry.
Last night, I went over to my parents' house to help them pass out candy, although I mostly stood there staring out the window, hoping this kid on a skateboard would fall down, oh, and also drinking wine and eating my weight in tiny Twix bars. There was a little discussion of the upcoming election, and I may or may not have promised my sister $5 if she voted for Obama. The offer still stands, Mindy.
I'm KIDDING! I'd give her way more than $5. ZING!
Um. Anyway. It being Halloween and all, we were allowed to dress up at work today. I went the Jim Halpert Three-Hole-Punch route, meaning the lazy route. I'm not Three-Hole-Punch Jennie, instead I'm Jennie on the Weekend. My costume includes the following: jeans, sweater, Chuck Taylors. There weren't really any good costumes at work this year. No Storm Troopers or Marios. We did get to go to the conference center for hot cider and snacks and OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS they had tiny pies! You know on Pushing Daisies? When Chuck makes cup-pies? THEY WERE JUST LIKE THAT. Adorable.
And now I'm sitting here wondering if someone spiked my cider, because I'm feeling a little fuzzy and also my face is all warm. I mean, I just wish someone would have TOLD me the cider was spiked. I would have had more.
*hee
I'm going to make it easier on myself, though. I started some stories . . . um, a long time ago and posted the first part, but WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW is I've been working on them in secret ever since then. And when I say working on them, I mean I'll write 100 words about every two weeks, when I remember I'm supposed to be writing stories. So I'll be continuing one or both of those throughout November so I don't have to come up with stuff about my life to write about every day. You know, I say that is my plan right now, but that could very well change tomorrow. I think you know by now that you should take everything I say with a grain of salt. What does that even mean? Take it with a grain of salt . . . what?
Well. According to Wikipedia:
(With) a grain of salt is a literal translation of a Latin phrase, (cum*) grano salis.
In common parlance, if something is to be taken with a grain of salt, it means that a copious measure of skepticism should be applied regarding a claim; that it should not be blindly accepted and believed without any doubt or reservation. According to the Oxford English Dictionary "to take 'it' with a grain of salt" means "to accept a thing less than fully". It dates this usage back to 1647.
The phrase comes from Pliny the Elder's Naturalis Historia, regarding the discovery of a recipe for an antidote to a poison. In the antidote, one of the ingredients was a grain of salt. Threats involving the poison were thus to be taken "with a grain of salt" and therefore less seriously. An alternative account says that the Roman general believed he could make himself immune to poison by ingesting small amounts of various poisons, and he took this treatment with a grain of salt to help him swallow the poison. In this version, the salt is not the antidote, it was taken merely to assist in swallowing the poison.
So BASICALLY I just compared my words to poison, and if you drink the poison, take some antidote that has a grain of salt in it. Or you could just try eating a grain of salt, but you'll probably die. Sorry.
Last night, I went over to my parents' house to help them pass out candy, although I mostly stood there staring out the window, hoping this kid on a skateboard would fall down, oh, and also drinking wine and eating my weight in tiny Twix bars. There was a little discussion of the upcoming election, and I may or may not have promised my sister $5 if she voted for Obama. The offer still stands, Mindy.
I'm KIDDING! I'd give her way more than $5. ZING!
Um. Anyway. It being Halloween and all, we were allowed to dress up at work today. I went the Jim Halpert Three-Hole-Punch route, meaning the lazy route. I'm not Three-Hole-Punch Jennie, instead I'm Jennie on the Weekend. My costume includes the following: jeans, sweater, Chuck Taylors. There weren't really any good costumes at work this year. No Storm Troopers or Marios. We did get to go to the conference center for hot cider and snacks and OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS they had tiny pies! You know on Pushing Daisies? When Chuck makes cup-pies? THEY WERE JUST LIKE THAT. Adorable.
And now I'm sitting here wondering if someone spiked my cider, because I'm feeling a little fuzzy and also my face is all warm. I mean, I just wish someone would have TOLD me the cider was spiked. I would have had more.
*hee
Thursday, October 23, 2008
don't drink the hateorade
I complain a lot. Ask anyone. ANYONE. These are the things I've been complaining about lately, but in an effort to make myself a better person, I'm going to complain about them AND THEN say something good about them. Look at that. I'm growing.
1. Cold weather
Earlier this week, I started complaining about snow and it hasn't even gotten cold enough to snow yet. Also, the cold weather makes it harder to go running because it makes my throat hurt (waaaaaaaaah) and I have to wear a jacket. I HATE WEARING A JACKET. The good thing about cold weather, though, is that I no longer sweat like a pig while running and also it was cold enough last weekend to build a fire and roast marshmallows. Win win win.
2. the election
I've known who I was going to vote for since February 2007. And since I know who I'm going to vote for and am sick of hearing about the election and am double sick of seeing Palin's stupid face everywhere, can't they just move the voting to today? Or even tomorrow. I'm flexible. The good thing about the election is . . . um, it's almost over. Also, I could go vote early if I wasn't so lazy and if I didn't heart voting on election day so hard.
3. Atonement (sorry, Ashley)
I finished the book the other day, and I only did it out of pure spite, because I guessed the ending after beginning Part Two, and I didn't like any of the characters, and Briony was stupid and annoying, and it moved SO SLOWLY and I don't really like war books anyway (except for The Things They Carried). But. I plan on seeing the movie, because I've heard rumors that James McAvoy is super dreamy in it.
4. NBC
We still don't have it. Instead we have HBO Family, which has been running the same five movies over and over. We have Batman Returns (good), E.T. (good), some movie about kid entrepreneurs (didn't watch it, but it looked really cheesy), some movie about kids stuck in an airport (didn't watch it, but it had Lewis Black in it so it couldn't have been good), and The Astronaut Farmer, which I can't watch because Billy Bob Thornton ruined David Duchovny's marriage. This not having NBC is not good, no matter what way I look at it, because you know why? The version of E.T. they're showing is the new one. And in the new version, they took out the part where Elliot calls his brother, "penis breath." Enough said.
5. money
As in, I have none. The good thing about this is, it forced me to reevaluate my budget (ha, what budget).
6. Thanksgiving
First of all, nothing can top the Thanksgiving Miracle of last year, but this year Thanksgiving is with my mom's side of the family which is the side of the family full of DRAMA AND CRAZY. Because of this, Thanksgiving will just be me, my parents, and sister, and that sounds practically perfect to me. I might even bring more than the rolls this year.
7. Christmas
See above: crazy family. They have rescheduled both Thanksgiving and Christmas, and even though I can't make it to faux-Thanksgiving, it doesn't matter because they only reschedule major holidays for my army-bound cousin, anyway. Oh, do I sound bitter? It's because I am. Anyway, the good thing about Christmas is I LOVE BUYING PRESENTS FOR PEOPLE. The no money thing makes this a challenge, but despite my laziness, I actually enjoy a challenge.
8. Puppies
Ha! Just kidding. No one complains about puppies unless they pee or poop somewhere they're not supposed to, and even then, it's half-hearted complaining because LOOK AT HOW CUTE THE PUPPY IS.
And now I want a puppy.
1. Cold weather
Earlier this week, I started complaining about snow and it hasn't even gotten cold enough to snow yet. Also, the cold weather makes it harder to go running because it makes my throat hurt (waaaaaaaaah) and I have to wear a jacket. I HATE WEARING A JACKET. The good thing about cold weather, though, is that I no longer sweat like a pig while running and also it was cold enough last weekend to build a fire and roast marshmallows. Win win win.
2. the election
I've known who I was going to vote for since February 2007. And since I know who I'm going to vote for and am sick of hearing about the election and am double sick of seeing Palin's stupid face everywhere, can't they just move the voting to today? Or even tomorrow. I'm flexible. The good thing about the election is . . . um, it's almost over. Also, I could go vote early if I wasn't so lazy and if I didn't heart voting on election day so hard.
3. Atonement (sorry, Ashley)
I finished the book the other day, and I only did it out of pure spite, because I guessed the ending after beginning Part Two, and I didn't like any of the characters, and Briony was stupid and annoying, and it moved SO SLOWLY and I don't really like war books anyway (except for The Things They Carried). But. I plan on seeing the movie, because I've heard rumors that James McAvoy is super dreamy in it.
4. NBC
We still don't have it. Instead we have HBO Family, which has been running the same five movies over and over. We have Batman Returns (good), E.T. (good), some movie about kid entrepreneurs (didn't watch it, but it looked really cheesy), some movie about kids stuck in an airport (didn't watch it, but it had Lewis Black in it so it couldn't have been good), and The Astronaut Farmer, which I can't watch because Billy Bob Thornton ruined David Duchovny's marriage. This not having NBC is not good, no matter what way I look at it, because you know why? The version of E.T. they're showing is the new one. And in the new version, they took out the part where Elliot calls his brother, "penis breath." Enough said.
5. money
As in, I have none. The good thing about this is, it forced me to reevaluate my budget (ha, what budget).
6. Thanksgiving
First of all, nothing can top the Thanksgiving Miracle of last year, but this year Thanksgiving is with my mom's side of the family which is the side of the family full of DRAMA AND CRAZY. Because of this, Thanksgiving will just be me, my parents, and sister, and that sounds practically perfect to me. I might even bring more than the rolls this year.
7. Christmas
See above: crazy family. They have rescheduled both Thanksgiving and Christmas, and even though I can't make it to faux-Thanksgiving, it doesn't matter because they only reschedule major holidays for my army-bound cousin, anyway. Oh, do I sound bitter? It's because I am. Anyway, the good thing about Christmas is I LOVE BUYING PRESENTS FOR PEOPLE. The no money thing makes this a challenge, but despite my laziness, I actually enjoy a challenge.
8. Puppies
Ha! Just kidding. No one complains about puppies unless they pee or poop somewhere they're not supposed to, and even then, it's half-hearted complaining because LOOK AT HOW CUTE THE PUPPY IS.
And now I want a puppy.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
In Whoville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day
I still don't have power but it's OK [cue hysterical laughter] because who needs power? Not me. I don't need power at all. I'll just read by candlelight for the rest of my life UNTIL I GO BLIND IN FIVE DAYS BECAUSE DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO READ BY CANDLELIGHT? IT'S HARD THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID.
Ahem. At least people I know have power. If I couldn't get out of our dark apartment, I'd have jumped off the balcony by now, which wouldn't have even killed me. I'd have just broken my leg or something and sat there in the dark crying about my stupid, broken leg. Wah wah waaaaaaaaah.
Last night, we went over to my parents' powerless house because they had a lot of meat they wanted to get rid of on account of it would soon be rancid. My dad grilled steak, chicken, hot dogs, cheesy brauts, and hamburgers while my uncle made this potato-cheese-casserole stuff on a camping stove. At one point, I walked by my dad, who hadn't eaten yet because he'd been grilling 96 pounds of meat, and he was all, "I'm having fun!" and my uncle (who also hadn't eaten) added, "We'll all look back on this someday and laugh." But as I stood there, listening to all the conversation and giggling (mostly due to one cousin in particular, who shall remain nameless), it was nice to know we wouldn't have to wait until someday to start laughing.
Ahem. At least people I know have power. If I couldn't get out of our dark apartment, I'd have jumped off the balcony by now, which wouldn't have even killed me. I'd have just broken my leg or something and sat there in the dark crying about my stupid, broken leg. Wah wah waaaaaaaaah.
Last night, we went over to my parents' powerless house because they had a lot of meat they wanted to get rid of on account of it would soon be rancid. My dad grilled steak, chicken, hot dogs, cheesy brauts, and hamburgers while my uncle made this potato-cheese-casserole stuff on a camping stove. At one point, I walked by my dad, who hadn't eaten yet because he'd been grilling 96 pounds of meat, and he was all, "I'm having fun!" and my uncle (who also hadn't eaten) added, "We'll all look back on this someday and laugh." But as I stood there, listening to all the conversation and giggling (mostly due to one cousin in particular, who shall remain nameless), it was nice to know we wouldn't have to wait until someday to start laughing.
Friday, June 27, 2008
tell me about the rabbits, George
So, I'm still dog-sitting. And I don't know why Mocha hates me and wants me to kill myself. Why ELSE would she bark and bark and bark and bark when IT IS CLEARLY TIME TO SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP.
Ahem. So. I'm sleepy. This is pretty standard for . . . well, any day, really. But at least it's Friday. FRIDAY. And I have no obligations whatsoever this weekend, unless you count a movie and ice cream and mini-golf as obligations but I DON'T. I call those . . . I don't know, something else that doesn't mean obligation. Whatever. Shut up, I'm tired.
Every morning, as I leave my aunt and uncle's house to go to work, there are bunnies in the front yard. Sometimes just one, but SOMETIMES there are two. But they always run away from me. I tried to avoid eye contact, all "I'm not going to hurt you, tiny bunny, I love you and want to be your friend," but they run away anyway. I don't understand, bunnies, WHY? Why won't you love me?
When I was in 4th or 5th grade (like I remember which one), my class went to the park for a picnic on the last day of school. As we were walking from the park back to the school building, I noticed some boys kneeling around this patch of tall grass, poking at something. I went over and saw they were messing around with a rabbit nest, and that there were tiny, tiny bunnies inside. No big bunnies, just babies, with their eyes closed and everything.
Well. I got a little irate, put my hands on my hips, and told those boys to get the fuck away from those bunnies (note: I did not say fuck back then) and THEN I got really irate because I thought, "now this nest smells like stinky human boys and the mom bunny is never going to come back." PLUS ALSO, they'd moved the nest all around from somewhere else. Stupid human boys. And so I marched myself up to the school, asked for a box, and I took those bunnies home, nest and all. I'm pretty sure now that the whole thing about how if baby bunnies smell like humans, the mom won't come back is completely false, but what do you want? I was like 10. What's a 10-year-old know?
I don't remember exactly what happened next, but I imagine it involved a phone call to my mom that went something like this:
Me: Hi, Mom.
Mom: Hi, Jennie, how was school?
Me: Good . . .
Mom: What is it?
Me: Um. I found some baby bunnies and brought them home.
Mom: What?
Me: THESE BOYS WERE MESSING WITH THEM AND I DIDN'T WANT THE MOM TO NOT TAKE CARE OF THEM ANYMORE, SO I BROUGHT THEM HOME AND THEY'RE IN A BOX ON THE BACK PORCH BECAUSE THESE BOYS WERE MESSING WITH THEM, MOM!
Mom: Sigh.
In any case, we fed them with an eye dropper and took them to a rescue wildlife center. This wasn't the first time we'd nursed baby animals. My mom found baby squirrels in the backyard that had fallen out of the nest and we took care of those, too. Also, I used to bring home stray dogs and put them in the garage, and have more fun phone conversations with my mom:
Me: Hi, Mom.
Mom: Hello, Jennie. What are you doing?
Me: Nothing.
Mom: Jennie . . .
Me: Um, I found this dog while I was riding my bike, so I brought him home. He's in the garage.
Mom: Jennie.
Me: He's really cute and nice! He has white fur! And I named him Frank!
Mom: Jennie, is he wearing a collar?
Me: . . . yes.
Mom: Does the collar have tags on it?
Me: . . . yes.
Mom: Jennie, that is someone's dog. Go let it out of the garage.
Me: But!
Mom: Jennie.
Me: OK.
That is a (mostly) true story. I say mostly because I can barely remember last week, let alone 16 years ago.
Ahem. So. I'm sleepy. This is pretty standard for . . . well, any day, really. But at least it's Friday. FRIDAY. And I have no obligations whatsoever this weekend, unless you count a movie and ice cream and mini-golf as obligations but I DON'T. I call those . . . I don't know, something else that doesn't mean obligation. Whatever. Shut up, I'm tired.
Every morning, as I leave my aunt and uncle's house to go to work, there are bunnies in the front yard. Sometimes just one, but SOMETIMES there are two. But they always run away from me. I tried to avoid eye contact, all "I'm not going to hurt you, tiny bunny, I love you and want to be your friend," but they run away anyway. I don't understand, bunnies, WHY? Why won't you love me?
When I was in 4th or 5th grade (like I remember which one), my class went to the park for a picnic on the last day of school. As we were walking from the park back to the school building, I noticed some boys kneeling around this patch of tall grass, poking at something. I went over and saw they were messing around with a rabbit nest, and that there were tiny, tiny bunnies inside. No big bunnies, just babies, with their eyes closed and everything.
Well. I got a little irate, put my hands on my hips, and told those boys to get the fuck away from those bunnies (note: I did not say fuck back then) and THEN I got really irate because I thought, "now this nest smells like stinky human boys and the mom bunny is never going to come back." PLUS ALSO, they'd moved the nest all around from somewhere else. Stupid human boys. And so I marched myself up to the school, asked for a box, and I took those bunnies home, nest and all. I'm pretty sure now that the whole thing about how if baby bunnies smell like humans, the mom won't come back is completely false, but what do you want? I was like 10. What's a 10-year-old know?
I don't remember exactly what happened next, but I imagine it involved a phone call to my mom that went something like this:
Me: Hi, Mom.
Mom: Hi, Jennie, how was school?
Me: Good . . .
Mom: What is it?
Me: Um. I found some baby bunnies and brought them home.
Mom: What?
Me: THESE BOYS WERE MESSING WITH THEM AND I DIDN'T WANT THE MOM TO NOT TAKE CARE OF THEM ANYMORE, SO I BROUGHT THEM HOME AND THEY'RE IN A BOX ON THE BACK PORCH BECAUSE THESE BOYS WERE MESSING WITH THEM, MOM!
Mom: Sigh.
In any case, we fed them with an eye dropper and took them to a rescue wildlife center. This wasn't the first time we'd nursed baby animals. My mom found baby squirrels in the backyard that had fallen out of the nest and we took care of those, too. Also, I used to bring home stray dogs and put them in the garage, and have more fun phone conversations with my mom:
Me: Hi, Mom.
Mom: Hello, Jennie. What are you doing?
Me: Nothing.
Mom: Jennie . . .
Me: Um, I found this dog while I was riding my bike, so I brought him home. He's in the garage.
Mom: Jennie.
Me: He's really cute and nice! He has white fur! And I named him Frank!
Mom: Jennie, is he wearing a collar?
Me: . . . yes.
Mom: Does the collar have tags on it?
Me: . . . yes.
Mom: Jennie, that is someone's dog. Go let it out of the garage.
Me: But!
Mom: Jennie.
Me: OK.
That is a (mostly) true story. I say mostly because I can barely remember last week, let alone 16 years ago.
Monday, June 16, 2008
and then we all ate ice cream
Yesterday, I fell off of a tightrope. It was going pretty well there for a while, but my balance is not that great (hence: all the falling down) and also there was this jumping bear trap right in the middle and when I tried to jump over it? I fell. And probably died. That's what usually happens when you're tightroping between two buildings and a bear trap closes on your legs and you fall to the ground. Good times.
Oh, and my parents got Wii Fit. That's how I managed to fall off a tightrope and still remain typing to you. I also ran a race. You put the Wiimote in your pocket and just run in place. It was fun until I realized I was, you know, running. Then I tried to hula hoop. Yeah, let's not talk about that.
Before all the Wii Fitting, I drove my mom to the video store and we passed this lady walking down the side of the street, pushing a grocery cart. She was wearing a hot dog hat. A HOT DOG HAT. (Heidi, like that one we bought Nancy that one time.) For real, she had a wiener on her head. A big one.
After dinner, we were watching Indiana Jones and I started explaining to my dad my idea for a new motivational tool that companies can use to, um, motivate their employees. Say you're walking down to accounts payable to drop off some invoices, OK? Wouldn't it be a lot more exciting if the Indiana Jones theme song was playing over loudspeakers in the hallway? Picture it . . . you're strolling along and then you hear, "Do do do dooooooo! Do do doooooo! Do do do dooooo! Do do do-do-do!" and then suddenly you're RUNNING down the hall and sliding down banisters and like, using your whip to swing across giant holes on the ground. You'd get those invoices to accounting SO MUCH FASTER. I really think this would boost productivity. Also, I thought it'd be fun if the Darth Vader song played as the CEO was walking toward your office. You know, as a warning signal to stop fucking around and get back to work. I think I'm going to explore this. Maybe I'll get my own infomercial.
I know it sounds like I've been doing a lot of shrooms or something, but I swear I haven't. This is all natural.
Oh, and my parents got Wii Fit. That's how I managed to fall off a tightrope and still remain typing to you. I also ran a race. You put the Wiimote in your pocket and just run in place. It was fun until I realized I was, you know, running. Then I tried to hula hoop. Yeah, let's not talk about that.
Before all the Wii Fitting, I drove my mom to the video store and we passed this lady walking down the side of the street, pushing a grocery cart. She was wearing a hot dog hat. A HOT DOG HAT. (Heidi, like that one we bought Nancy that one time.) For real, she had a wiener on her head. A big one.
After dinner, we were watching Indiana Jones and I started explaining to my dad my idea for a new motivational tool that companies can use to, um, motivate their employees. Say you're walking down to accounts payable to drop off some invoices, OK? Wouldn't it be a lot more exciting if the Indiana Jones theme song was playing over loudspeakers in the hallway? Picture it . . . you're strolling along and then you hear, "Do do do dooooooo! Do do doooooo! Do do do dooooo! Do do do-do-do!" and then suddenly you're RUNNING down the hall and sliding down banisters and like, using your whip to swing across giant holes on the ground. You'd get those invoices to accounting SO MUCH FASTER. I really think this would boost productivity. Also, I thought it'd be fun if the Darth Vader song played as the CEO was walking toward your office. You know, as a warning signal to stop fucking around and get back to work. I think I'm going to explore this. Maybe I'll get my own infomercial.
I know it sounds like I've been doing a lot of shrooms or something, but I swear I haven't. This is all natural.
Friday, May 23, 2008
don't drink the Kool-Aid
The first time my great-aunt Marion came to a big family function (Thanksgiving or Christmas or something, I don't know, because I wasn't even close to being born yet ANYWAY), she went into the kitchen and very kindly asked my Grandma Sensenbaugh (say that ten times fast) what she could do to help. My great-grandmother looked at her and said, with an incomparable mix of sarcasm and grace, I imagine, "you can stir the Kool-Aid."
Over the years, (great) Grandma gradually began to trust Aunt Marion with more complicated cooking tasks, but not before "stirring the Kool-Aid," became a family joke. To this day, the person with the least amount of cooking talent is told, "you can stir the Kool-Aid," should they FOOLISHLY attempt to help with the cooking. Although, we don't drink as much Kool-Aid as we do WINE, so maybe we should change it to, "you can pour the wine."
Tomorrow, my parents and aunts and uncles are throwing a 70th birthday party for my Grandma Carolyn. Her twin sister (Marilyn, hee) will be there ALL THE WAY FROM CALIFORNIA because, strangely enough, it's her 70th birthday, too. I think you'll agree that the most important thing is that I'll be there. After all, someone needs to stir the Kool-Aid.
Over the years, (great) Grandma gradually began to trust Aunt Marion with more complicated cooking tasks, but not before "stirring the Kool-Aid," became a family joke. To this day, the person with the least amount of cooking talent is told, "you can stir the Kool-Aid," should they FOOLISHLY attempt to help with the cooking. Although, we don't drink as much Kool-Aid as we do WINE, so maybe we should change it to, "you can pour the wine."
Tomorrow, my parents and aunts and uncles are throwing a 70th birthday party for my Grandma Carolyn. Her twin sister (Marilyn, hee) will be there ALL THE WAY FROM CALIFORNIA because, strangely enough, it's her 70th birthday, too. I think you'll agree that the most important thing is that I'll be there. After all, someone needs to stir the Kool-Aid.
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