if my brain could throw up, this is what it would look like

Did you know that you can only listen to 40 hours of Pandora a month? I didn't. Until I apparently reached my limit, which I did today. I thought at first that 40 hours was really impressive but I don't think it is. I have Pandora on most of the time at work, so that's an easy 40 hours right there. In a week, even.

At first I was really worried because WHAT WOULD I DO FOR MUSIC? I found out that we can hear the music from shows in our offices during rehearsals and showtime but there aren't any shows right now. And I always forget my iPod at home, or if I do remember it, it's not charged and don't ask me where my charger is because I DON'T KNOW I DON'T EVER KNOW. But whatever, don't worry (I know you were worried), I paid 99 cents and now I can listen to Pandora for the rest of the month and my limit starts over in September. Can you imagine, though? No music at work? To miss out on the joy that is Part of Your World popping up after, like, Radiohead or something? No thank you.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Who knows. How many times have I typed "what am I talking about?" on my blog might be a better question only probably not really because the answer is DUH A LOT. Guess what we did last night? Guess. I SAID GUESS. No, but seriously, folks, we put an offer on a house last night. I wasn't going to say anything because I was afraid of jinxing it but we didn't say anything LAST time we put an offer on a house and we still didn't get it so I am throwing caution to the wind. Here, wind! Take it! Take all the caution! I don't even want it anyway!

So, yeah, we met our realtor after work to sign all the paperwork and did you know putting on offer on a house is kind of a big deal? Because I guess it is. There's a contract and you have to hand over a check and everything. I signed my name a bunch of times and didn't even hyperventilate once! That will happen when and if we end up getting the house and I then realize we just bought this giant thing where millions of things could go wrong and we won't have a landlord to call anymore. OMG WHAT HAVE WE DONE.

No, seriously, it's fine. It'll be really nice if we get it because there's a giant backyard, all for Max, which is great because he refuses to use the litter box, unless he's sneaking into it to steal cat poop. We mentioned the cat-poop-thievery to the vet when she suggested putting Max on a diet (he's packed on a few pounds...don't mention it to him, he's sensitive) and I was all, "I think he's hungry because he got in the litter box the other day and hardly ever does that," and she was like, "Oh, yeah, he's not hungry, he's just stealing Kitty Cookies, lol. Cat poop is like dessert to dogs." It was an informative visit, is what I'm saying.

Anyway, there was an earthquake today, too, so that's weird. I mean, it wasn't IN Ohio but I certainly felt it in Ohio. We don't usually get earthquakes here but this one time when I was in 3rd grade they were worried about some giant earthquake that was supposed to hit (I don't know the details because I was 9, but it probably had something to do with the Hellmouth being in Cleveland) BUT ANYWAY we had to have earthquake drills and that consisted of sitting under our desks, which doesn't really seem that safe but whatever, I don't know about surviving an earthquake, only about surviving tornadoes and MORE IMPORTANTLY zombies. Did you know this entire paragraph was only two sentences? Well, three now. Four. Five. Shit.

You guys, WHAT is this post even about? You know what the problem is? I started it yesterday morning and now it is today evening and guess what I don't even care, I'm posting it anyway, non-sensicalness and all. For what is life without a little non-sensicalness? Besides more sensical and stuff. But who wants that? I can't decide how to end this but I need to go watch some Mad Men reruns until it's time to go to bed so BYE.

everything it seems I like's a little bit sweeter, a little bit fatter, a little bit harmful for me

Hey, guys. How's it going? Good? I'm glad. I know I've been ignoring you lately and I'm afraid it's not going to get any better. It's just that this summer has exploded with awesomeness and I'm busy. Really busy. You know. Seeing movies and going to wedding-related functions and next weekend? Celebrating Christmas-in-July up north with some friends. I could tell you exactly where, but I just like saying "up north." Not like Canada north, I'm afraid, but north of here. Oh my god, Jennie, shut up.

I went to two cookouts this past weekend. TWO. In two days. TWO DAYS. The weekend before I last I went to two cookouts ON THE SAME DAY. I'm not going to lie to you, I LOVE COOKOUTS. But if I continue to eat cookout food at the rate I am currently eating it, I will weigh 800 pounds by the end of the summer. And then I'd have to get one of those little motorized scooters to carry me around and I can't afford one of those.

Um. Anyway. The cookout on Saturday was for Heidi's friend's wedding. They got married a couple weeks ago and their reception was this giant cookout and IT WAS DELICIOUS. They put Rock Em Sock Em Robots on top of the cake instead of a tiny bride and groom. I approve of this. I approved of the cookout, too, until I ate a giant piece of chocolate wedding cake and felt like vomiting for the rest of the day. I don't care. It was worth it.

The cookout on Sunday was for all the volunteers and kids and parents from, um, the place I volunteer. I was put in charge of bringing some water balloons, so Joe and I turned the kitchen into a water balloon factory and I had to take the picture over the sink down because we sort of got water EVERYWHERE. It could have been worse, I suppose. Like, we put all the balloons into the laundry basket and say I'd accidentally dropped a bunch of safety pins in the laundry basket, causing a horrible water-balloon-exploding effect that soaked the entire apartment, including Phoebe. That would have been worse.

At the actual cookout, the water balloons lasted approximately 3.4 minutes once the kids saw them. And they had these long stick things (heh) that you fill up with water and shove one end in and water shoots out the other. I'd never seen them before, but the kids played with them for the entire time and most of them looked like they'd jumped in a pool with all of their clothes on which is CRAZY WHO WOULD DO THAT? Oh, wait, actually I have done that. Hmm. Anyway, I also met an undertaker. He was . . . interesting. He told us that their funeral home now cremates pets and one of their best customers (his words) is this lady who has 68 cats. Yeah, you read that right. 68 cats. She has a separate house for them. Yeah, you read that right.

PS: Have you wished Kat happy birthday yet? Don't be rude, Internets.

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.

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.

It’s so watery. And yet there’s a smack of ham to it.

Yesterday afternoon, while I was sitting around at work, waiting for someone to tell me I could go home early, I opened Google Reader to find that Kat had shared a recipe.

Sidenote: if that sentence didn't make sense, it's because you're not using Google Reader and if you're not using Google Reader, I have to ask, "what the hell is wrong with you?"

Anyway, this is the recipe: Wiener Water Soup. Yes, you read that correctly. Wiener Water Soup. It gets even funnier when you read the ingredients:

1 pkg. wieners
3 c. water

And it gets even FUNNIER when you read the instructions:

Combine wieners and water in a two quart saucepan. Bring to a boil until wieners are cooked. Throw the wieners in the garbage. Serve soup. Serves 3.

You guys, I'm not kidding, when I read this, I had to take a moment. I laughed so hard, I was crying and I was terrified, TERRIFIED, that someone would walk past my office, because I had my head down on my desk and I was clutching my stomach because OH, THE LAUGHTER, IT HURTS! Even now, as I sit here by myself on the sofa, I am laughing SO HARD. Every time I think of it, I start laughing. WIENER WATER SOUP. Something about the combination of those words makes me LOSE MY FREAKING MIND. AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Ahem. I'm going to try to compose myself. So, soon after the Wiener Water Soup (HAHAHAHAHA) episode, someone came around and was all, "you guys can leave at 4," and that's all I needed to hear. I called Heidi on my way out, because I am an asshole who likes to rub my good fortune RIGHT IN YOUR FACE. We talked a while about the Wiener Water Soup, but the topic soon shifted quite a bit:

Me: I have to go pick up my anti-baby pills.
Heidi: Yeah, that's important.
Me: Do you think if I talked to the doctor, she'd give me a hysterectomy?
Heidi: Um, no, I don't think if you talked to the doctor, she'd give you a hysterectomy.
Me: Fine, then I'll go get one in Mexico.
Heidi: Good idea. But what happens in ten years when you decide you want kids?
Me: Ew. And anyway, I'll just freeze some eggs.
Heidi: OK. Are you just gonna go down there and be like, "hey, you on the side of the road, are you a doctor?"
Me: Yes. As long as he has a van.
Heidi: Hahaha.
Me: "His van was so clean!"
Heidi: "He used Purell!"
Me: "And I saw him wash his hands, WHAT MORE DO I NEED?"
Heidi: This is foolproof.
Me: Indeed. On that note, I'm gonna go.

True story. Only I probably won't go to Mexico to get a hysterectomy. Because, duh, I'd go to Canada.