Comanaprosil? May cause dizziness, sexual nightmares, and sleep crime.

Every so often, I will go through a period where I sleep like crap. I am currently in one of those periods. There's usually no reason for it. I'm not any more stressed than I normally am, despite the layoffs at work and the wedding planning (pfft, what planning?) and the everyday stresses like bill-paying and grocery-going and house-cleaning and blah blah blah. That stuff has been around for weeks, months, YEARS, EONS, AHHHHH. I don't know.

During these insomnia cycles, I try everything in my power not to disrupt my sleep in any way. I don't drink caffeine after noon. I don't eat weird things like monkey brains or chocolate covered grasshoppers right before bed. I don't watch or read anything scary before I (try to) go to sleep, except for that time last week when I read In Cold Blood before bed every night and, hmm, maybe that was the problem ANYWAY. The most important thing of all, though, is that I don't get drunk during these periods. I know what you're saying -- you're saying, "Jennie, drink until you PTFO (pass the fuck out), that's almost like sleeping," and I will say to you, "stop trying to get me drunk, jerks, I can do that on my own JUST FINE." But seriously, folks, for some reason, whenever I get drunk, it signals my brain to wake me up about four hours too early and then I lie there, stuck somewhere between drunk and hangover, wishing I could just SLEEP. Or die. One of those.

So that is why I'm not drunk right now, even though it's Drunk Posting week. But you know what's a lot like being drunk? Being sleep-deprived. The other night, I collapsed in a fit of giggles over...nothing. And nothing says DRUNK like giggling over nothing. Except maybe spacing out at work because trying to concentrate on anything for longer than five minutes gives me no-fun-vibes, which makes me want to DO WHAT I WANT and what I want to do is sleep. Or an incurable case of marble-mouthed-stuttering while talking on the phone, which happened to me yesterday, causing me give up on that train of thought mid-sentence and say, "I'm sorry. I'm really tired." BECAUSE I WAS REALLY TIRED, YOU GUYS, SO, SO TIRED. I went to bed at 9:30 last night! You want to know why? Because I keep waking up at 3 or 4 in the morning and then I can't go back to sleep. And I really want to! I love sleep! If sleep were a tiny child, I would buy it ice cream. If it were a puppy, I'd pat its furry, little head and feed it slices of cheese because dogs love cheese, did you know that? THEY LOVE IT. And if sleep were a person, I would either full on make out with it, right in the face, or I'd wrestle it like an alligator, whatever made it submit to my will and LET ME SLEEP ALREADY. OMG, did I just rape sleep? I'm so tired.

My point is, if I can be sleep-deprived at work, I should be allowed to be drunk at work because it's the same. That's all.

Famous angels never come through England.

So, this is an interesting week for me, this quote-unquote drunk post week at HQ, because I think we can all agree that I am by far the drunkest of the regular contributors on this here web log. Except. Some stuff happened to the environment and it so happens my particular office was involved in a sort of roundabout-direct way, and now I don't exactly have the time to get drunk so much as I'd like to get drunk.

But such is the beauty of The Collective: when I fail, another is there to take my place. BEHOLD! The email I received Sunday night (in its entirety I should add):

I'm drunk, which is always a preferred state of mind, 'specially given how easily the beverages'll go, and between rum and coffee liqueur and some belgian dubbel and whatever the hell else... i think we're making a fire next, is what i mean to say.

anyways, questions on this delightful drunkens unday: how do you handle working inside all the time? honestly, so many aspects of your job (minus the stress and pressure and shit) seem awesoe... but the indoors. and what does it say that i like teh vast majority of teh music you recommend, but cannot bring myself to listen to ryan adams? also, when teh fuck are we getting drunk together? 'cuz i'm pretty sure by now i owe you several rounds.
ay to being
unrelated, i think you're pretty kickass. so, um, thanks for being kickass.

matt

ps whiskey is far superior to vodka. rum may or may not be. tequila is just fucked up, as am i well on my w

How does it end? WE WILL NEVER KNOW. But I'm not a writer of Lost, so I will attempt to answer these questions(?) to my fullest, most soberest capacity.

I do not work inside all the time! I mean, I guess technically I do, but in exchange for not making the kind of bank a typical lawyer would make in a big-time made-for-tee-vee law firm, I get to work at home two days per week. And have you seen my home office? No? Well then you'll have to trust me when I say that I might as well be working outdoors. My home office rules. Also I can wear my jammies, so it's better than being outside, especially when it's stormy or hot or humid or generally disgusting out there.

The rest of my job is generally stressful and pressure-filled and shitty, especially these days as you can imagine. I spent yesterday editing press releases that tried real hard to be convincing about the whole we-didn't-drop-the-ball thing since a newly retired co-worker decided to throw the rest of us under the bus in Newsweek. When in point and fact it was actually all her fault. So yeah, stress.

Now. Ryan Adams. I have a confession to make, and that is that I didn't much like Jacksonville City Nights, and I haven't bought a Ryan Adams album since. HOWEVER, I will send you (any of you) an album or two, or even just a couple of songs, that I promise you'll like. And then love. And then obsess over unhealthily until you find yourself curled up in the corner of your bathroom cradling a jug of red wine to your bosom, crying as much as you did when Juliet and Sawyer reunited over that goddamned Apollo bar. I've got you.

And we are drinking together (and hopefully not crying about it) whenever you (any of you) come to visit. DC rules; don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I can't promise to be kickass when you get here (I'm usually not; Sir, consider this a warning), but I will try my hardest.

kat

I love whiskey. But I cannot drink whiskey all night without worrying about plaque buildup on my teeth (don't ask). A nice vodka soda is always refreshing. Rum is good, but it's a summer liquor. Tequila is indeed fucked up, though I have some chicken marinating in it as we quote-unquote speak. So there you go. [Insert random letter here.]

Wherein I drink, post, and then translate soberly

Guess what you guys! It's deuank week drunk week sandpit the collective. Also i. Wfitng tis from my iPad which has crazy afro xurttext auto correct which is way more suggestive than the slut at the bar. Did that worker as a joke? Did you eke. Get the joke? Did yiu even get my point..? No? Well to o bad for you.

Guess what, you guys! It's drunk week at the Collective. Also, I am writing this from my iPad which has crazy auto-correct which is way more suggestive than that slut at he bar. Did that joke work? Did you get the joke? Do you even get my... point? Well, too bad for you.

What im trying to stay is that you known when its hard to type because of te booze?well compound that with a) a keyboard that doesn't have keysssssssssand b) use an auto correct thag assumes hinges from your misspellings. Inn facg just go rad ahead assume that every word speclled cordtecgly thus far and out of olace was suupooosec to. E a divvefdntfsofk.

What I'm trying to say is that you know when it's hard to type because of the booze? Well, compound that wth a) a keyboard that doesn't have keys, and b) uses an auto-correct that assumes [entirely different words] from your misspellings. In fact,just go ahead and assume that every word spelled correct thus far [ed note: so, none] and out of place was supposed to be a different word(s).

Later. When im sober.. Yi might come ba k and try to clean thus post up,, maybe some translations?

Later, when I'm sober I might come back and try and clean this post up, maybe with some translations?

I just finished up an excellent dinner inn Pasasdenawhere we got two bottles of wine we cant accord. We also celebrated the fact that we weren't watching kfist, i wanted cekbratedd--not because i don't like lost but because i wasp mussing something epic and needed to allow that.l oh schukbo' such Rama,

I just finished up an excellent dinner in Pasadena, where we got two bottles of wine we can't afford. We also celebrated the fact that we weren't watching LOST, I wanted to celebrate--not because I don't likeLOST but because I was missing something epic and needed to allow that. Oh Schilbo, such drama.

Thats how i got rink.. Now im msitting in the back of the car g-- a tip i learned from my two-time-DUI brother-- waiti g to sober up and get home.a. How about some hoots ?

That's how I got drunk. Now I'm sitting in the back of the car--a tip I learned from my two-time-DUI brother--waiting to sober up and get home. How about some photos?

Me in the baothromm afthjng drunk
Me in the bathroom drunk:


Mr signeing the I'll with my nickname!!!!
Me, signing the bill with ny nickname instead of my real name [Ed note: I though this was so funny]:


Me writing these post in the backseat
Me writing this post in the backseat:


Me beijgn with coy with my reader
[Ed. note: I can't believe I'm not cutting this sentence] I'm being coy with my reader:

Oh LOOK! THIS PICTURE IS MISSING. THANK GOD.

Oh you guy! Ilovd you!
Oh, you guys! I love you! [Ed note: and really, it's true, I do. Where else on the internet, can I do this, be this, and be accepted as such. I want a big, giant, even-though-I-feel-sober-now group hug.]

the doctor is in

This was pretty easy, because sometimes I think I look more like a cartoon character than a real person. This one time (at band camp), this lady came to our door to sell us some magazines and I have a hard time being mean (...to someone's face) so I let her make her speech (all the while feeling like I'd been transplanted into Office Space) and was finally able to slip in that we couldn't buy any magazines because we used all of our extra moneys for beer, useless crap from the Target $1 spot, and junk food. She kept standing there and finally said, "I like your hair," and I was all, "oh, thank you" and (hair flip) and then she was like, "you look like that one girl," and I was like, "um, thanks?" and she said, "you know...Dora...Dora the explorer," and I was all, "this is because I wouldn't buy any of your magazines, isn't it?" Meanwhile, Heidi was upstairs listening to the whole thing and LingOL and then she bought me a Dora action figure for my birthday BECAUSE SHE IS MEANER THAN I AM. Ahem.

I think I made a pretty good Velma:

And an even better Lucy Van Pelt:

On account of, personality-wise, I'm probably most like Lucy. However, I don't have my own psychiatry business, which I'd like to change POST HASTE. Internets, tell me your problems and I will tell you what's wrong with you. I won't even charge you five cents, either.

PS: It is also Phone it in Friday, so please tell us what cartoon character/Muppet you would be...WE MUST KNOW. For science.

You know, minus the suicide part.

Sorry for lack of posting, guys. Super busy at HQ.

What Cartoon/Muppet Character Am I?

I asked Heather the answer to this question because a) she would know, and b) this is like her favorite game. But! she was a little busy doing actual work so I turned to google.

People posting quiz results on Facebook is my biggest pet peeve EVER, thank you giant IGNORE button. For one the quizzes are always poorly written, and for two if you're so bored that you're taking poorly written online quizzes then you are kind of a dumb ass. No, I do not care which Sex and the City character you are. (None of them is the correct answer, by the way.)

I took four of these inane quizzes that Google pointed me to and it was as painful as I imagined, with only one of the tests asking any questions that I thought applied at all. Here are the tentative results...

Quiz Farm, which featured questions such as "are you orange with black stripes?" (no) said:
You Scored as Garfield

You are Garfield! Shouldn't you be out chasing mice? Oh wait make that having a piece of lasanga!lol Your a loveable cat that seems to be everyone's best friend! Though you are a bit lazy


Okaaaaaaay.

Go To Quiz told me:
Your Result: Superman

You are very reliable, and will help out in times of need! You would lift Mt. Everest to save a friend! Nothing to you is impossible, but have a tough time keeping up with life!


Okaaaaaay.


BoredQuiz tried to impress me by asking 20 questions instead of the traditional ten, but one of them was which TV character I am and used my birth date to determine the answer which was as confusing as it sounds. It said:

Sponge Bob: Always cheerful and kind whatever the circumstance is. You're a clean-cut person. Whenever given a challenge, you give it all you've got, even going to extreme lengths just to accomplish it. Even though years are piling up on you, you still possess a child-like manner; thus, you like playing with children. You are more of a literal type of person and you don't discern sarcasm very well; but it doesn't bother you.


I don't really like playing with children and the multiple choice question about that had "yes" as all four answers. And the years aren't exactly piling up since I'm only TWENTY FIVE, quiz! Oh, and sarcasm rocks.

Quizilla asked the most thoughtful questions, but determined I was a skunk:
You are Peppe Le Pew (without the smell)
You are a lover. Romance, flowers, and wine are all you need to enjoy yourself. You are serious about all commitments. A family person. You call your mom every Sunday, and never forget a Birthday. Don't let your passion for romance get confused with the real thing.

Nope. Not even a little bit.

So. I'm at a loss. I'm just me.

Phone it in Friday: Cat Pictures

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand GO.

is your cat making TOO MUCH NOISE all the time?

what up.

Nala Jane

The only thing Nala loves more than bottle caps and warm towels is TV.

Things are a-swamped at Collective headquarters such that I forgot Monday was my day to post. You can't see, but I'm hanging my head in shame. We had an emergency huddle and well, we're going to be phoning it in a bit all week. We're positing cat pictures.


Tuna and Hufflepuff ready for bed

Come to think of it, I think cat pictures are better than us writing, always. LOOK AT THEM! SO CUTE!

Don't tell me what I can't do!

I spend a lot of my time telling myself I can't do things. This ranges anywhere from "you can't watch Lost tonight, you don't have time," to "you can't write a book, YOU'RE AWFUL" but suck it brain, I WILL WATCH LOST AND I DID WRITE A BOOK. Ahem. I don't know why I tell myself I can't do things. I may pretend to be totally incompetent most of the time but I know I'm not. It's all a show! And yet, I still have those moments where I just don't believe in myself.

Also, I'm really good at coming up with excuses. Like, I will tell you right now that I just CANNOT make myself get out of bed in the morning before I absolutely have to, even though I know in my smart place that I would feel so much better if I worked out before getting ready for work. But I CANNOT do it. So I hit snooze a bunch and vow to work out after work but that's when my excuse-maker really kicks in. Reasons I've used for not running after work include but are not limited to: I'm tired, my legs hurt, it looks like it might rain, I'm too hungry, my tummy feels weird, it's too sunny and it hurts my eyes, my sports bras are dirty, I can't wear shorts because I haven't shaved my legs in eight weeks, there are goose turds all over the sidewalk, there's a coyote loose in the neighborhood, I need to make dinner and I won't have time to both run AND make dinner, that bottle of wine's not going to finish itself, etc.

These are all ridiculous excuses, I know, but they allow me to stay in the Can't Do It place, which is a bad place, to be sure. If I think I can't do something, I'll make up all sorts of excuses. Like last night, I knew I should do my pushups (part of the 100 Pushup Challenge) but I was all, "my arms are too tired because I Shredded and what if my arm muscles fall out of my arms?" because yeah, Jennie, that's something that happens. And I talk myself out of writing in the evenings ALL THE TIME because why write for just an hour? What good is that going to do? I should probably just watch Mad Men instead. And it's like I forgot that I wrote a novel in 30 days by simply writing during my lunch hour every day. I'm in denial about what works because it's just easier to tell myself I can't do something.

Part of the problem, I'm sure, is laziness, but mostly I think I doubt myself too much. "It would be fun to do blank" becomes "You can't do blank," and it doesn't matter if blank is run a marathon or Jake Gyllenhaal, all my brain is thinking is, "I CAN'T, I CAN'T, I CAN'T."

Well, brain, it's time for you to STFU already. I am in a rut, I think, a whiny rut of self doubt and I'm pretty much fed up with it. I'm going to get on the I Think I Can train (yeah, I went there) and Yes, I Can myself out of this rut. Every time I want to do something and think, "I can't," well, I'm going to shame myself until I do it anyway. Even if that something is time travel to 1955 and sing Johnny B. Goode with Marty McFly.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a DeLorean. Or Figment.

There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how.

Or rather, I don't have time, because I don't know if you know this, but the environment recently exploded (twice) and many people were killed (twice) thanks to companies someone (not me, then) wasn't allowed to do anything about because some POTUS (not this one) was feeding at the corporate trough. But now that the environment has exploded (twice) and someone needs to be accountable (not me), someone's getting his ass handed to him while someone else (me) is playing clean up (me).

I knew tomorrow I had to post about the things I cannot do, and in the random snips of time I've scrapped here and there (literally, on the toilet, in my Moleskine, tmi, twss, etc., etc.) I actually managed a lyrical and moving post about the years I spent between my training wheels coming off and me actually riding a bike. Unfortunately, that Moleskine got left in the backseat of my boss's car somewhere between the Capitol and EPA East. SOOOOOO, long story short (remember Jennie's old blog? It totally ruled. Not that her current blog doesn't rule, because I don't know if you know this or not, but I designed her masthead in those halcyon days when I, you know, had time for the internet and such), but... wait, where was I? (I'm cribbing wifi at this bar where my boss and I are grabbing a quick martini before drafting some more press releases. OMG, I can't believe I just typed that. Somebody punch me.)

OH RIGHT. Long story short (yay!) I couldn't ever ride my bike because I was scared, and then one day years and years later I was all WTF and LITERALLY got on my bike and rode the damn thing. And I rode it HARD. (twss.) Moral of the story: YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT SO LONG AS YOU AREN'T SCARED AND/OR ARE SO DISGUSTED WITH YOURSELF YOU SHAME YOURSELF INTO DOING WHATEVER THE THING IS THAT YOU'RE NOT DOING.

Yeah. So if in the next few days you read some AP articles that quote some completely loony drunko? That's probably me.

HAPPY DRINKO DE MAYO EVERYBODY!

Things I suck at, according to my sister.

If you ask anyone who really knows me, they will tell you the thing I am best at in this entire world is loving my sister. Not just that I feel an abiding affection for her that is both present and nostalgic, empowering and protective. No, I love my sister in that open-palmed, all-encompassing, fearless, ridiculous way that only children and puppies love. I just never grew out of it.

And if you ask my sister the things I'm worst at in this entire world, here's what she'd say:

1. Time management.
2. Saying no.
3. Throwing shit away.
4. Putting shit where it belongs.
5. Keeping up with shit.
6. Allowing fictional characters to make incorrect decisions about their emotional well being.
7. Cooking. Excepting spaghetti.
8. Returning phone calls.
9. Keeping up with your phone in the first place.

She's right. I'm also really bad at wires, especially when there's like ten not color-coded ones that criss-cross between boxes and electronics and the wall.

I'm going to EGOT

There are a lot of things I can't do I mean, a lot. I can't play sports or run fast or cut on a straight line. I can't smoke or remember my credit card number or put my contacts in correctly on the first try. I can't keep my thoughts to myself or pretend to listen when you're being an idiot or even accept (or deny) Facebook friend requests in a timely manner.

I'm mostly okay with all of that.

But there are a few things I wish I could do that I can't, and it breaks my heart.

You know the triple threat? The acting, singing, dancing performer? I wish that was me. I wish that was me so hard. But I have no rhythm and I have no tone. I can't clap to a beat, skip in a line, or do basic gymnastics. I love every single dance movie, I love SYTCD and American Idol. I listen to pop radio and know the lyrics to every Taylor Swift song. BUT IT WILL NEVER BE ME.

Some days I feel ready to trade in all my other talents if I could just have those. That is who I am on the inside, I swear.

And so I wait, for some sort of miracle, for the voices I hear in my head to be things I can actually sing with my voice. I wait for some sort of miracle that would allow me to take an aerobics class and actually get a work out instead of being hopelessly lost. Or maybe I can wait for a new technology, that makes my inside performer actually translate. That could happen, right?