and then I fell over

Oh, right, I have a blog. Hi, blog! Sorry I've been neglecting you. The thing is, I don't have time to blog at work and when I say blog at work, of course I mean during my lunch break and not when I'm supposed to be doing actual work. Because I've been spending my lunch break WORKING. Not today, though. Today I spent the first half of my lunch break going to Kroger to get wine and baking sheets (not to use together, though) and now I'm ignoring my phone and email, listening to the Dr. Horrible soundtrack, and BLOGGING. Heh, at first I wrote this: BLOGGIN. Which I think I like better. Anyway.

Heidi got a Wii Fit for Christmas, and last night we hooked it up. Well. Heidi hooked it up. I sat there and watched. To be fair, though, hooking it up meant putting in some batteries and pushing some buttons on the Wii, so I really think I'd have just been in the way if I had tried to help.

The Wii Fit started out by grunting in pain when I stepped on the board. That was nice. And then! It told me I was overweight. Ouch, Wii. That hurts. I mean, it wasn't exactly breaking news or anything, but hearing that I did, in fact, eat too many Christmas cookies and drink too much egg nog (fact: I did not drink any egg nog because . . . gross) was the opposite of fun. I watched Heidi do a balance test and dodge some soccer balls, cleats, and panda heads (what?) and then it was my turn.

Well. I did the balance test and the Wii Fit was all, "WTF? Are you 80? Do you find yourself tripping over stuff a lot?" OK, it really didn't say all that EXCEPT for that last thing BECAUSE IT TOTALLY DID ASK IF I TRIP OVER STUFF. This is when Heidi and Joe almost died laughing FOR REALSIES because the Wii knew how clumsy I am after just one test.

Then. I tried to slalom and it went about as well as it does when I try to for-real ski. I ran into more flags than anything else. Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't fall off the board (although, I did when I tried the step aerobics) and when I finished slaloming (is that a word?), the Wii Fit told me I was unbalanced. Which, duh.

I redeemed myself a bit during the hula hooping, I think. I made it all the way through and spun the shit out of some hula hoops. Sure, a couple hula hoops hit me in the head, but you know . . . baby steps. Anyway, here is something brand new. Conversations Between My Roommate and My Boyfriend:

Heidi and Joe: HAHAHAHAHA JENNIE IS UNBALANCED AND LOOKS FUNNY WHEN SHE HULA HOOPS!
Joe: My favorite part was when the hula hoop hit her in the head.
Heidi: Me too!
Joe: Because I feel like . . . if someone threw a hula hoop at her in real life, that's what would happen.
Heidi: Definitely. I also liked her granny-hula-hooping hand gestures.
Me: Thanks, guys.

Can you feel the love? I can. It's cold and hurty.

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.

Bell out of order, please knock

Apparently Tamara did not like my last post. In fact, I believe she might have suggested that it was the worst post ever. And, yeah, it was short and not thought out at all, but at least I wasn't listing things I carry in my purse, right? Right. In any case, Tamara is bored at work, and since she was kind enough to blog for me today over at The Collective, the least I can do is babble to the Internets for a while.

It probably won't surprise you to hear that I was sort of a weird kid. A weird kid who grew up into a genuinely weird woman (or, as my mom calls me, "a unique mind").

My mom also likes to remind me that, when I was little, I had a Southern accent that no one would explain. I grew up in southwest Ohio and, while it is a bit close to Kentucky, it's not close enough for Southern twang to seep in. I don't remember how or when I lost it, but I wish I still had it. I love accents of all kinds, but the Southern accent is the friendliest of them all.

Like most kids, I liked to play "pretend" during recess, but instead of playing House or School, I liked to imitate Babs from Tiny Toons or pretend I was Peter Pan (the girl version, of course) and climb to the top of the jungle gym and jump off. I never ended up flying, though. I tried a lot of different things in my attempt to fly. I stood on one end of a teeter-totter and had my friend push down on the other end. My thought was that, if he pushed down hard enough, I've propel through the air and soar into the clouds. What happened was, I fell backwards off of the teeter totter and hit my head on the ground. It was sort of exactly like what happened when I tried to run down the Slip 'n Slide. I used to try flying off of swings, too. You know, you'd swing as high as you could and then jump when you reached the highest heights, but I always crashed back down to Earth. My most unsuccessful attempts at flying usually involved an umbrella. I thought that since Mary Poppins could take off from the ground and fly with an umbrella, I could do it, too. But since I was an amateur, I jumped off of stuff while holding an open umbrella, so I'd at least already be in the air. It never worked and I was always disappointed. Even now, I can't believe movies would lie to me like that. I mean, I cannot tell you how many times I tried clicking my heels three times, but it never took me home. I tried it just this morning and it still didn't work. Hasn't stopped me from trying, though.

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.

Cake or death?

Um, cake please.

(I'm in Nazi Germany right now and can't watch YouTube, so I hope that's the right clip . . . meh.)