Dear Fancy Nancy: Happy Baby Shower! PS: Thank you for not making us play games, especially that gross melted-candy-bar-in-the-diaper one.

One of my best friends is having a baby in October, which is weird for several reasons...one is that I think the whole pregnancy process is just plain weird. Right? I mean, you have this thing inside of you, stealing your nutrients and your energy and growing larger and larger until finally it rips its way out of you and we're all strangely OK with this. Have you ever seen the imprint of a fetus foot in a pregnant woman's belly? That shit is creepy.

(SIDEBAR: I've never actually seen that but I've heard about it. OK, actually, I think that's kind of cool. But still creepy. Hey, things can be creepy and cool at the same time. Case in point: CHRISTOPHER WALKEN I REST MY CASE.)

Two, it's crazy that any of my friends are even allowed to have babies. I've known them too long. I've gotten in too much trouble with them. How are we allowed to be in charge of a tiny baby? I've heard that they're pretty demanding. And, unlike a dog, you can't leave it alone with some food and water for a few hours if you want to go out to dinner. You really have to draw the line at like an hour, tops, and that's barely time to get through the line at Chipotle.

Three, when I'm with my friends, the friends I've had for the past decade, I feel like absolutely no time has passed, and that none of us have changed at all. So we can't be getting married or buying houses or HAVING BABIES because we are 19 years old and yes, I realize that you can do all those things when you're 19 but when we were 19, we weren't thinking about those things, we were thinking about more trivial things, like can you ride a mattress down the stairwell and the answer to that question is YES WE CAN.

Other things you can ride down the stairwell on: an inner tube, a pillow, and a bathroom stall door. Well. That last one makes a better slide, you can't really ride it down the stairs.

But seriously (folks), I feel like we can't have babies because when we're together I feel like I've time traveled to a time when none of us even wanted babies. Or if we did, we figured we'd have them when we were old. You know. Like 25. 

Even though I have all of those reasons none of us can be having babies yet, my friend is pregnant so I guess I'm wrong. THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING, AMIRITE? But you know what? Just because we're "grown ups" now, doesn't mean we have to grow up. In fact, she emailed Heidi and I the other day because she was 69 (heehahaha) days from her due date, and she wondered if she had to stop being immature because soon she's going to be a mom. We told her no, she was absolutely not allowed to stop being immature, both for our sakes and her daughter's.

And to prove my point, for her baby shower I got her (and the baby, I guess) Go the Fuck to Sleep, a That's What She Said onesie, and this:

Why, hello, I am a Wienermobile.

Because no. We never ever have to mature. And we won't. Not if I have anything to say about it and what I have to say about it is POOP BUTT BOOGERFACE.

gonna fly this boat to the moon somehow

I have sand in my shoes. Sarasota sand, to be specific, and it's such a tease because it's about 30 degrees outside right now. I was wearing these shoes on New Years Eve, which I suppose still doesn't explain why they have sand in them SO HERE GOES.

Joe and I went to Florida last week to visit Lampl and Jon, who moved down there last year to live by the ocean and get away from the Ohio winters. I can't say that I blame them, all the warm weather would be nice, although I think I might miss watching Max play in the snow. But, really, their move was our win, too, because we now have somewhere to stay that's within walking distance to the beach.

We ended up driving down because plane tickets were waaaaaay more expensive than gas, which is kind of sad, really, considering gas is at least three bucks a gallon at the moment. We drove over two days, which ended up working really well because we got to stay in two different hotels, which meant I had two different ice machines to find and play with. Mmm, ice.

We stopped to get gas at some point once we got into Florida and when we got out of the car, it was too hot for a jacket. TOO HOT FOR A JACKET. IN DECEMBER. You would have thought that we'd just witnessed some Harry Potter magic or, like, a band of pixies lift up our car and fly away with it, such was our wonderment. And EVEN BETTER, when we got to Jon and Lampl's, we discovered they had stocked their fridge FULL of Yuengling.

(Sidenote: Guess who forgot to buy any Yuengling on her way out of Florida? THIS KID. Sigh.)

Anyway, when we got there, Lampl was all, "We booked a sunset cruise for all of us on New Year's Eve...it's free...and we get free drinks...but we don't have to do it if you guys don't want to," and I was all, "Lampl, what about that sentence leads you to believe we wouldn't want to do that?" So we did that. And despite all the free drinks and the rocking of the boat, none of us fell overboard. Whoo! We still had a few hours to kill until midnight once we got off the boat, so we hung out at Jon and Lampl's for a bit (after restocking their fridge with beer), ate some pizza, and then went to the beach for midnight festivities.

Once there, we plugged in an iPod, blasted some Girl Talk, and rolled up our jeans so we could frolic in the ocean. The frigid, frigid ocean. I don't know what happened, but I think that beach was some kind of time machine or was blasting immaturity rays or SOMETHING, because we spent most of our time there running around like tiny children hopped up on sugar and caffeine AND CRAZY PILLS. I have been told that I'm like a belligerent (and energetic) four year old when I'm drunk, so maybe it was catching? I don't know. I DO know that when we got there, I started running around in circles, and then we asked for some fireworks from some people down the beach (which we couldn't light on account of the wind), and then Danielle's bra fell off, and then we ran some more, and then we all pretended to be velociraptors and T-Rexes (with teeny little arms) BECAUSE OF COURSE WE DID. We gathered around someone's phone at midnight and I think we celebrated a minute early but whatever, that just meant we got an extra minute of celebration.

We got lost trying to find our way off of the beach, Lampl dropped five beers, and we played a bit of Beatles Rock Band before everyone fell asleep. I got super sad face when we left, not just because it meant I would have to go back to the cold and my job and, you know, REALITY, but because I was leaving behind the warmth and the fun and my BFFs, all of whom were headed in different directions, ALL HOURS AND HOURS AWAY from each other.

But I still have some sand in my shoes, the same shoes I was wearing to ring in the new year (well...they were sitting on the blanket while I ran like a crazy person through the surf, but I think it counts), so I'd like to think a part of me is still on that beach, shouting with laughter (and dinosaur roars), just happy to be with people I love.

starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam

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

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

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

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

Cafe Disco is dead, but I can still hear the music in my head.

Even after all my complaining, yesterday turned out to be quite perfect. You know, once I left work and went home and had a cookout. You see, Lampl and Jon are moving to Florida (wah waaaaaah) but, they can't take their grill with them, so they gave it to us (yaaaaay). They brought it over last night, but Jon had to leave, so Lampl, Heidi, Joe, and I were put in charge of grilling, even though none of us really knew what we were doing. Since it involved lighter fluid and matches and I didn't want to burn down our new apartment or char any of my friends, I concentrated on drinking beer and making french fries.

Aside: I totally made french fries from scratch last night AND they were so good, you guys. So good. They tasted (and smelled) just like Penn Station fries, which means that if Heidi and I can figure out how to make subs similar to Penn Station's, we're going to save so much money.

We had a bit of trouble getting the grill hot, but Joe just kept squirting lighter fluid all over the place and throwing more matches and finally FINALLY, the grill got hot enough and we threw the food on. It was delicious and we all smelled like campfire afterward. Eventually, we started talking about poops, so we decided it was probably time to call it a night, because where do you go from there?

I think the cookout food definitely affected my brain and gave me crazy dreams, though. Last night, I dreamt I was at a dinner party with Rush Limbaugh and Sarah Palin and I could BARELY CONTAIN MY GLEE because I'd never been the smartest person at a dinner party before.

Happy Birthday, Heidi!

I can't wait to drink ginormous beers and screech Sweet Caroline, and generally just be loud and obnoxious.

Sorry in advance, Joe.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going OK, another falls spectacularly to pieces.

You guys, I have had such a good couple of days that now I'm kind of waiting for something really bad to happen. In fact, I'm a little afraid of getting too excited about anything, when really all I want to do is run around screaming, "OH MY GOD YOU GUYS, THIS IS SO AWESOME YAAAAAAAY." I've never been a very excitable person (that would require too much energy), but I get even worse as I get older, expecting the good news to be snatched away at any moment. What's that about?

Anyway. On Friday, Heidi and I went to Cincinnati to celebrate Nancy's brother's birthday, and while there we ALSO got to hang out with Lampl and Jon, which always = GOOD TIMES. Nancy's brother made it to 9 before he had to go home and pass out, and once a really bad cover band started playing, the rest of us went to a different bar. This one had ping-pong. PING-PONG! I love ping-pong and, while my skills are rusty, they are still somewhat there. All those hours of playing against my dad (and his far superior skills) amounted to something besides just honing my cursing skills, I guess. We weren't keeping score, though, and after a while started smacking the ball any which way as hard as we could. I think the people playing pool next to us tried to murder us with their eyes, and I can't really say I blame them since half the time our balls were bouncing across the pool table just as they were taking their shot.

Once we tired of ping-pong, we went back to Lampl and Jon's to giggle over a bunch of YouTube videos and then watch The Soup. In that order. The next morning, Heidi and I got pancakes and then found our new apartment. In that order. That is the only productive thing I did that day. Once we got home, I took a nap, then showered, then went and got Papa Murphy's and took it to Joe's, where we proceeded to do nothing but sit on the sofa and watch TV all night. It was awesome.

YESTERDAY, I went out to breakfast with Joe and his family, AND THEN went running, AND THEN sold some books, AND THEN went to my parents' house to hang out with my sister. So I was a bit more productive than Saturday. I need to start being way more productive on the weekend since we're moving soon. I have a lot of crap I need to get rid of, is what I'm saying. I hope Goodwill is ready.

And today! Today, I accepted a new job. It's with the same company (sort of) but different. Does that make sense? I don't care. I start in April. I get to drive past Giant Jesus twice a day. That has to be good luck of some kind. And tonight! Heidi and I are having dinner at Nancy's, and there will be wine and good food and excellent conversation. PLUS ALSO the weather is getting better and better. On Sunday, I was driving down a twisty, back road with the windows down, squinting into the sun and listening to Oasis, and when I heard, "you and I are gonna live forever," I almost believed it. Still. Better to be cautious. I'll be over here, waiting for the bottom to drop out.

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!

couple things

• BW3's Wild sauce? Very spicy. Also, makes my tummy hurt. But I'd totally eat it again because OH MY GOD YUM
• I still remember college drinking games
• Heidi made up her own drinking game and it was way better than any other game I've ever played
• My voice is scratchy today from all the yelling and laughing last night
  
• I'm excited to do it all over again tonight

Happy Saturday, Internets. I have to go get ready for a wedding now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

If I were joking, you'd be laughing. Do you look like you're laughing?

Yesterday morning, I had this conversation with my boss:

Boss: How was your weekend?
Me: Good. Yours?
Boss: Oh, fine. I love your hair color.
Me: Thanks?
Boss: Is that your natural color?
Me: Yeah.
Boss: It's very pretty. I used to have pretty hair like that.

Does that sound weird? What if I told you my boss was a man? I mean, I'd be lying if I said that, but it would be weird, right? If my boss was a man? And told me I had pretty hair? Anyway. Moving on.

This morning, there were some of those tiny, chocolate donuts sitting on the counter. This counter is where all the free-for-all food goes. Some mornings there is banana bread! Other mornings there are muffins. Sometimes a bag of McDonald's breakfast sandwiches is sitting there and SOME MORNINGS a bag of chocolate chip cookies is sitting there. Like yesterday. Yesterday there were chocolate chip cookies. When there are cookies on the counter in the morning, we call them breakfast cookies and eat them for breakfast and since we call them breakfast cookies they are healthy. It's true. SCIENCE.

Right, so, there were tiny donuts. And I had no idea where they came from and I don't even particularly LIKE these tiny, chocolate donuts (the taste, it has a hint of plastic) but I ate one anyway. And then it occurred to me. I had no idea who'd put the donuts there. No one ever knows where the food on the free-for-all counter comes from. These donuts could have been planted by an evil evil-doer planning to do evil by...I don't know, poisoning the HR department. That'd be pretty evil. Plus, lots of people want to poison us right now on account of it's open enrollment and IT'S ALL OUR FAULT THAT BENEFITS COST SO MUCH. Ahem. Then I decided I didn't really care if the food was poisoned and had another donut.

You guys, this is the longest week ever and I know I say that every week but this time I mean it. I have volunteering tonight and at some point this week I really need to get an oil change (my car needs lubed something fierce) and I need to get a wedding card because, oh, did I tell you? I'm going to another wedding this weekend! This is good, though, because lots and lots of friends are going, too, and faraway friends are coming to visit and this doesn't happen nearly often enough. I may need all of next week to recover from their visit, so it's a good thing that A) next week is Thanksgiving week and B) I did not do anything stupid like agree to run a 5 mile race at 8 AM. It's not often I make good decisions, so I'm relishing the one I made to NOT run for a while. Especially since I think Jillian Michaels fucked up my knee.

WARNING: this is written by Joe. Not Jennie. It could get confusing, is all. You'll see.

So I don't know about you, Internets, but this weekend has been pretty spectacular. Friday night, Heidi and I went to a slumber party at our friend, Nancy's. That's right, a SLUMBER PARTY. We played Rock Band and the new Guitar Hero and I totally rocked the shit out of the Bon Jovi classic, "Livin' On A Prayer." Seriously. It was epic. I almost lost my voice in the process, but it was worth it. Anything for the Rock Band. After we were done with that, we all (there were many of us, not just Heidi and I and Nancy) stripped down to our underwear and whispered secrets in each other's ears (Whitney told me the dirtiest thing I will ever hear in my life). Then we practiced french kissing before having a tickle fight and passing out in each other's arms. Also, we'd been drinking a lot. It was awesome-tastic.

On Saturday, Joe and I hung out and played Guitar Hero until our fingers cramped up, which for me was not long, but GUESS WHAT! I got a PERFECT SCORE on the song "My Name is Jonas" by Weezer. IT WAS AMAZING. Here, I'll prove it to you:



See? It was so amazing that we took a picture of it. Then we went to Los Tres Amigos (which is Spanish for 'The Three Amigos') for dinner. Sadly, Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, and Martin Short were not there, but there was a girl there at the table next to ours who was doing tequila shots. By herself. With her dinner. She was with a friend, but her friend was not drinking. It was incredibly weird, and very entertaining. Also, they were talking about Futurama for some reason. Yeah, we eavesdropped. What, you got a problem with that? I thought not. After dinner we went back to Joe's apartment and watched Edward Scissorhands, which Joe had never seen and which we both thoroughly enjoyed.

This afternoon I had a pile of laundry on my bed, and Phoebe curled up into a ball in the middle of it, and it was adorable, and Phoebe doesn't do adorable things very often (usually she just pees on your bed and then looks at you like you were asking for it), so I took a picture of that, too. If you're good I'll share it with you. Okay, you're good, I'll share it.



See? Adorable. It's moments like that that I feel bad for constantly hating her, but I only do it because I know she constantly hates me, too. We have a good relationship. Also, Joe and I have been dating for five months and two days. So yay for that.

Happy Sunday, Internets.

you don't have to wear that dress tonight

Yesterday was Jeremy's birthday (of Tamara and Jeremy) and so last night we celebrated with a surprise party. It was also my dad's birthday, but he wanted to hold off on celebrating, surprise or otherwise. We quickly established that, although Jeremy and my dad have the same birthday, Jeremy is not, in fact, my father. There was some confusion for a while, though.

When we got to Tamara and Jeremy's, I noticed that there were decorations on the front door. I was all, "um, won't that tip him off to the surprise?" and Heidi was like, "yeah, he's here . . . he's in the bedroom." Apparently some girls were totally mean to him ON HIS BIRTHDAY (read about it here) and he was sad. Stupid girls. Luckily, there were lots of people and food and drinks and ROCK BAND to make up for the bitchy, bitchy girls he works with.

Have you ever noticed that when Rock Band makes an appearance, everyone gets this manic look in their eyes? A greedy, manic look like, "I WANT TO PLAY ALL THE INSTRUMENTS AT THE SAME TIME AND ALSO SING AND OH MY GOD WHAT IF I DON'T GET TO SING WEEZER?" I'm not kidding. That game turns people into drunk five-year-olds and have you ever been around a drunk five-year-old? If you've been around me when I'm drunk, then that's close enough.

It was pretty awesome. Heidi remembered to strum. We discovered that Tamara is a fucking awesome singer. I got to sing Oasis. Sting inhabited Joe's body for the entirety of Roxanne. It was a little spooky.

This week on The Collective, we're sharing embarrassing stories about ourselves. I'm having a hard time coming up with anything, despite having embarrassed myself on a daily basis for about, oh, 25* years now. A little help? Heidi?

*I say 25, because I couldn't really talk for the first year . . . although, when I was a baby I did routinely poop my pants and that's sort of embarrassing.

Here I am, all alone, wondering what went wrong. Did we ever have a chance?

You guys! I am so! excited! for the Olympics. At first I was all, "Olympics YAWN," because does it SOUND that exciting? Fuck yes, it does!

Ahem. So, yes. I'm excited for that to start tomorrow. I may get a teeny bit obsessed, so if you DON'T like the Olympics (what's wrong with you?), don't say I didn't give you fair warning.

I'll have you know that today I successfully resisted an invitation to Chipotle. I swear, the people in my office go out to lunch almost every day and I just can't do that, or I'd weigh 400 pounds and my checking account would have -400 dollars in it. Both of these things would be a problem. It makes it easier to save money when I know I have to. For instance, next weekend I'm driving to Cleveland to take part in a bachelorette party for my dear friend Amy. It didn't occur to me until just now that the only person that I will know there is Amy. The fact that I am not freaking out about this shows just how far I've come over the past couple of years. Besides, there are going to be cocktails and after a few of those, I'm everyone's friend.

I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to talk about Saved by the Bell again. No, you know what? I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry at all. This morning? It was the episode where they're all in a band and Casey Kasem is doing that Behind the Music special. AWESOME. First of all, the name of their band is Friends Forever. Worst band name ever? Possibly. Second of all, what? They're in a band? And they're famous? And where the hell is Jessie in all of this?

Whatever. I got to thinking that Saved by the Bell would have been a much better show if it had been a drama. OK, probably not, but think of the possibilities. Because, isn't Zack loaded? Come to think of it, Lisa's rich, too. And Jessie lives next door to Zack AND her dad owns a hotel, so she's got money, too. I think the only one who didn't have money was Kelly. That's why she couldn't go to the prom that one time. And had to work at The Max. So if the show had been a drama, Kelly totally would have been the outcast who got pregnant junior year and had to have an abortion. And Slater would have turned out to be gay, but he'd be afraid to tell anyone because the wrestling team wouldn't want to wrestle with him anymore. Maybe he got Kelly pregnant! To prove he wasn't gay! What a bastard.

No time! There's never any time! I don't have time to study! I'll never get into Stanford!

I called my mom yesterday after work because I'd been informed that it'd been FOREVER since she'd spoken to me. FOREVER. Even though I was at home less than two weeks ago for her birthday and I saw her THE VERY NEXT DAY at my grandma's. So, for those counting, FOREVER = about a week and a half (I love you, Mom).

When I talked to her, she was all, "your dad and I figured you were busy," and I said, "oh?" and she said, "yeah, because you never update your blog anymore," and I was all, "yeah, cause they expect me to do actual work at work now PSHAW WHATEVER I DO WHAT I WANT." And then she was like, "you should come over because I have a bunch of kitchen crap you can have." I wonder if there'll be a day when, instead of taking leftover crap that no one wants anymore, I will be the one giving someone leftover crap that I don't want anymore. The day has to come, I think. It's the circle of crap.

I KNOW I've been neglecting you, dear Internets. I'm sorry. Summer is the time for doing stuff, right? And so I've been doing stuff. Stuff like almost killing myself with a guitar and trying to figure out a way to become a runner without actually, you know, running. Also, I've become obsessed with grape soda THROUGH NO FAULT OF MY OWN. Joe suggested we go to Potbelly a couple of weeks ago and I was all, "hmm, they have grape soda . . . I shall try it." And I tried it. And it was good. And then I kept suggesting we go back to Potbelly JUST so I could get more grape soda and then I bought grape soda at Meijer and now I want to drink it all the time, but I'm afraid my teeth might fall out.

Every time I drink it (or, let's face it, talk about it), I have to preface it with, "MMM, GRAPE SO-DA." My friend Nancy once came to a sorority function completely obliterated out of her mind (in the middle of the afternoon, I might add . . . those were the days) and proceeded to pour herself the biggest cup of grape soda known to mankind and womankind and, I don't know, duck-kind. She stuck her gum to the rim, then picked it back up, dipped it in the grape soda, stuck it in her mouth, and shouted, "MMM, GRAPE SO-DA." And then repeated this scenario for the next hour. We knew she was quoting something, but it took us the majority of the night to realize she was quoting Saved by the Bell. Saved by the Bell is sort of like Friends, in that anything that ever happens to you in life can be connected to an episode. True story. For instance, guess what episode was on the other day?

"I'm so excited! I'm so excited! I'm so . . . so SCAAAAARED." It was just like that time I got addicted to caffeine pills because I had a geometry test and my friends and I were in a girl band and I wanted to get into Stanford.

cause you said the brains I had went to my head

I love going over to my friend Nancy's house, and I'll tell you why. Not only does she live in a grown-up house with a zillion rooms (including an office and a fancy dining room and a Wii room and, I don't know, all the other normal rooms), BUT she is always prepared for any event. For instance, just in case you need freshly made popcorn, she has a for-real-honest-to-goodness popcorn machine on her kitchen counter. If you're in need of a frosty beverage, just open her fridge and you'll find everything from Pinot Grigio to PBR. And if Nancy invites you over for hot dogs, don't be surprised when she pulls out all the fixings. It's not just ketchup and mustard at Nancy's house, oh no. It's ketchup and regular mustard and spicy mustard and two kinds of relish and pickles and Skyline chili and Skyline hot sauce and all the shredded cheese you can fit on your wiener (HAHAHAHA).

It's no surprise that Nancy's house is stocked with whatever you need. When I lived next door to her in college, we were always in her room, even though in order to sit anywhere (couch, bed, floor, didn't matter), you'd have to clear off a stack of clutter. But it was worth it, because she always had some new contraption to try, like that time she bought a cotton candy machine. Or that other time she bought a sno-cone maker. Or that other time she bought a popcorn popper. Or that other OTHER time when she bought a deep-fryer.

So of course Nancy's house is the best house ever and now that she's a wife, it's always free of clutter. Heh. Well, at least it is when we come over. Last night, after a delicious dinner of hot dogs, potato salad, and corn on the cob (which I did not partake in, because I don't like getting it stuck in my teeth SHUT UP LEAVE ME ALONE), she made us Bazooka Joe drinks (see?!) and asked if we wanted to play Rock Band. And after playing for, I don't know, a couple hours, we opened the next batch of songs to see that MY LIFE WAS NOW COMPLETE because it included Don't Look Back in Anger. Which I sung. On expert. And still scored 86%. I have no idea how the scoring works for the vocals once you start moving past the Easy setting, but I'm pretty sure my Expert 86% means I'm ready to go on tour. So, Liam. Noel. Call me. We'll talk.

nobody ever told her it's the wrong way

Last night, a while after Heidi had gone to get her manicure (I was invited, but (and I know this will surprise you) I decided not to go), my phone rang.

Heidi: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Heidi: Do you want meet us at Bar Louie?
Me: Bar Louie?
Heidi: Yeah, we're gonna get dinner and drinks.
Me: Awesome, I'll be right up.

And up I went, because not only had I written my 300 words for the day, but I'd ALSO written an article. I mean, I would have gone up there anyway, but I felt far less guilty since I'd actually done some work. And you guys? If you thought the 123 GoBox was good, just HOLD ONTO YOUR MINDS BECAUSE I AM ABOUT TO BLOW THEM. Wow, that is like the poorest choice of words EVER and you'd think I'd delete them and write something else but YOU'D BE WRONG. Get used to it. Um, right. So, Bar Louie was having a special. One. Dollar. Hamburgers. And not like those pussy, little sliders from White Castle, either. Real-sized hamburgers. The toppings all cost like 50 cents extra but who cares? The hamburger (plus bun) was only $1. Which made up for the fact that our beers cost $6. But whatever, who cares, that beer was delicious.

I have no idea what my point is, except that if your friends call and ask if you want to come to the bar, you always say yes. Because you will be rewarded in hamburgers. Cheap, delicious hamburgers.

Also, beer.

Damn you, Andy Bernard!

My thoughts on The Office: WHAT A TEASE. Also. OH MY GOD DWANGELA.

That is all. Last night, I got to work getting stuff ready for this weekend. This WEDDING weekend, if you will. Only minus the wedding. You see, Nancy and Wayne (Wancy) are already married, so Saturday is just the reception. Jimmy Buffett might be there. Probably not though. But there's a VERY SLIGHT CHANCE.

After I went running and sort of packed but not really, I remembered that, although a professional is in charge of my hair, I have to do my own makeup on Saturday. Yikes. So I decided to do a test run, but I probably should not have had all that wine beforehand. I know absolutely nothing about applying makeup, so I'm hoping that on Saturday someone takes pity on me and just does it for me. That would be ideal. If not, I might end up looking like a clown or, you know, not wearing any makeup at all.

Unfortunately, I was told there WILL be chicken-dancing at the reception, but that's a small price to pay for the HOT DOG BAR. You guys, I wish I could tell you just how excited I am to see this thing. I'll probably take more pictures of that than anything else. Well, depending on how big it is. That's what she said. I'm a little worried about my dress, though. It's strapless, and even though I'll be zipped up so tight in it I might not be able to breathe, I'm afraid someone is going to trip and grab my dress and BOOM there I've gone and flashed the entire room. I'm not ready for that kind of exposure.

Anyway, my bridesmaid duties begin at 6 o'clock sharp (ok, sharpish) this evening and don't end until Sunday at noon, at which point I'll be heading to my cousin's confirmation party, so I'll be away from my computer ALL WEEKEND. I'm starting to hyperventilate a little just thinking about it. I thought about trying to bring my laptop so I could hang out with the internet while we were getting ready and stuff, but I think Nancy might kill me. My plans to bring a book were already thwarted, but I'm sneaking one anyway:

Me: Do you think Nancy'd be mad if I brought a book on Saturday?
Heidi: Um, yes?
Me: Really?
Heidi: . . . uh, YEAH, I think she'd be pissed if you read a book at her reception.
Me: Nooooo, not at the RECEPTION, just like while we're getting ready.
Heidi: Ooooooh.
Me: Yeah, just look for me at the corner table behind the hot dog bar . . . I'll be the one with my nose stuck in a book.
Heidi: That would not be good.
Me: No, but you think I can bring a book to read during the day?
Heidi: Oh. Yeah, you'd better not.
Me: But . . .
Heidi: No.

Happy weekend, Internets.