This is so not my week.

So, I don't keep a journal but I have been blogging since June 22, 2004, which is sort of like keeping a journal with a creative liberty thrown in here and there. Because my life is BORING. I would like to enter into the record this entry from June 23, 2004 as Exhibit A:

I first saw Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone when it debuted on HBO. I was home from school for a week with a nasty flu. Since the movie seemed to be in constant rotation, I just had it on TV perpetually while I drifted in and out of sleep. Not a very mentally taxing movie, soothing music... it was really just what I needed.

Unfortunately, since then, I cannot watch it without becoming very sleepy. A total Pavlovian response. It's so bad, in fact, that when Seth and I recently went to see Azkaban, he kept leaning over and warning me not to fall asleep.

So, last night, we finally sat down to watch Wizard People, Dear Reader. And within 20 minutes, I had to go to bed!! It was 9:30, people!!

RIVETING.

Contrast that with this entry from May 15, 2006:

Don't write about me.

What?

I mean it, don't write about me.

I would never write about you.

Don't write about me.

Okay!

I'm not writing about you. I'm writing about someone exactly like you.

*****

Today is your birthday, the Ides of May, a fact which I had honestly forgotten until Yahoo! so cruelly reminded me. I remember the first of your birthdays that we spent together. You asked me to write you a poem, and then you broke up with me throwing accusations left and right. I smashed my favorite coffee mug against a wall that night. But I already had the damn thing written and I gave it to you anyway, and left you sitting in the stairwell, crying. I should have burned it.

You always thought you knew me so well, but you didn't know me at all. And you still don't. That you've dropped out of my life is such a relief; it's exhausting to feel so sorry for someone all the time. But your ghostly presence remains, in conversations with mutual friends, a slip of your name in drunken babbling, birthday reminders from online calendars. God willing, this will be my last commemoration of the date, and the exorcism will be complete.

Not so boring! But, like, 23% fiction. The good part, where it sounds like I'm pissed off about something. So... yeah. The end.

Age 16

2/9/2001
I’m at Bethel right now visiting. It’s really cool--I love it. Not so much the school itself but college in general. The whole concept excites me and its so fun. I love being on my own and being so close to everything and the time schedule. Its awesome. Ann, on the other hand, said she wants to live in a black hole. Believable. I totally love it! I’m not sure if I like this actual school so much. All the girls seem really done up. I mean, there were like 5 girls curling their hair in the dorm this morning. I was like whatever. There are lots of cute boys. I love boys. We had a dance party last night and it was awesome. I miss boys. I wish I was a senior. Well, I gotta go catch my communications class. [12 hours later] Okay...the girls we are staying with are obsessed with boys. Krysta has a boyfriend whom she always talks about and Stacey is obsessed with Zack--the boy with whom her relationship is undefined.

I talked to Jason tonight. It was so much fun. I love the kid. We have so much fun. I told him I had the song “Head over Feet” stuck in my head. [then I wrote out all the lyrics]

2/15/2001
I’m gonna kiss Jason tomorrow. Oh, man, I can’t wait. The thing is, I don’t know how to kiss. I’m going to sleep now. I can’t wait.

2/17/2001
I didn’t get to kiss him. First of all, this morning, well it was morning and I just didn’t want to kiss him in the daylight or something. It was just so open. So then I made sure I went out with him tonight but then Luke came too (I did get to meet his girlfriend, though, possibly more on that later) and I hate being with J when Luke is there. So we went to the movie and afterwards the girls split (turn-a-bout is tomorrow and they need their beauty rests) and we had time to kill so after driving aimlessly around Northbrook we finally went to Jason’s house where I played pool and sucked at it and got very bored and they continued to play for a while and Jason figured out I was bored so he suggested we go play a computer game in his room. He has practically naked women calendars. That totally made me uncomfortable and I totally didn’t like it but I didn’t say anything but I’ll bring that up later.

I discuss whether or not I will kiss Jason for the rest of the month, discussing nothing else except our oft conversations with each other on the subject. On 3/2/2001 I decide I can’t be friends with him because I’m “too jealous.” The next entry on 3/4/2001 is a pro/con list to help my friend Cassie decide which of her two crushes to go to turn-about with. John has a nice voice, Richie has great hair. However, John has a “gross tongue.” On 3/5/2001 I launch into a solilique on how “I can’t believe I’m breaking up with Jason.” I write more of the same until 6/3/2001 when I declare I’m in love with someone else. Yeah, man, those Bethel girls are so obsessed with boys.

8/12/97

8/12/97

I think they should make a picture book about the first day of college like they do about the first day of kindergarten - only instead of numbers and letters and apples and new friends, it would be a cartoon version of spring break where everyone is trying to reinvent themselves to get laid. Day one, I met (re-met) that guy Jay from orientation who kept calling all summer. I met a guy named Jonah who is like a poor man's Anthony (less pecs, less Catholic). I met Eric and Ken who both look like Ken Dolls. And they all wanted to go out ("go off" they call it here), and that was before our new team even started our pick-up game. (First day and I'm going to go ahead and call a starting position for myself.) Then some time after lunch that pecker head Chip came by my room asking Cindy if "Blake" was here and I had to go through the whole story about how Blake was a bball player at my HS - who throttled Chip's team, by the way - and we shared the same # and bought the same shoes. So Chip just thinks it's the funniest damn joke to keep saying it. Cindy was not impressed.

He wanted to go for a run and so I said I would because I'm a dumbass, and it was stupid because we were both acting like we knew where we were going and it's the first day for both of us in this one-cow town. We got lost and I think we probably ran six miles. He said he'd come by later and we can drive it to see but I think I'll pretend to be asleep. Then he wanted to play one-on-one and so of course I said yes to that. I told him about how the home fans at his gym SPIT ON ME the last time we played there and he seemed PROUD of it, and said he remembered I was in foul trouble in the first quarter. And I guess he must have been in the locker room or something because he didn't remember I scored 22 in the second half IN A BOX-AND-ONE thank you very much. So I beat him once and he wanted to play again and so I beat him again and he said three out of five and I beat him three and then just because he kept asking for it I beat him five. But check this out. Game five, he's down by four and backs me into the lane - I'll give it to him that he's ripped up, strong - but I was up in his grill hard, and he turned around and elbowed me in the face and I know it was ON PURPOSE. He scored, right, and took the ball to the top of the key (we were playing make-it-take-it) and asked me if I wanted to call the foul. Of course blood was just pouring out of my nose and all over my shirt and I said, "What foul?" because I grew up playing with assholes twice as tough as him. I beat him anyway and my nose was bleeding the whole time. He tried to take off his shirt for me to mop up the blood but it was covered in sweat and it was his HS basketball shirt so it was also probably covered in evil and I'd rather bleed to death than wipe my face with a LOGANVILLE BASKETBALL SHIRT.

I hope he's not in any of my classes tomorrow because I'm going to have at least one black eye and he'll probably think that's just as funny as when his classmates spit on me.

---

He was in one of my classes the next day. In fact, he was in all of my classes the next day, and the day after that. He told me later, our feet dangling off the edge of some unnamed cliff in the night, that I was the first girl to ever beat him at basketball. I smiled, reached for his hand in the dark. Because I knew by then he'd be my first everything.

We wants it, we needs it. Must have The Precious.

Tell us, friends, what can we have when we pry it form your cold, dead hands?

listless

My approach to wedding planning, half-assed as it is, involves a lot of lists. I have a list of people to invite to the ceremony. I have a list of people to invite to the reception (cause they're different, see). There's a list for RSVPs, even though we haven't sent the invitations yet. There's a list of music to play, music NOT to play, music to maybe play, what to buy the bridesmaids, what board games to get for the centerpieces, who to invite to the bridal shower, who to invite to the bachelorette party, who to put at what table, blah blah LIST EXPLOSION.

I would worry that these actions scream bridezilla, but this is what I do. I make lists. All the time. For everything. When I get to work in the morning, I make a To Do list for the day. When I'm off work, I make a To Do list for the day, even if it's just in my head, and then I try and calculate how much time each task will take and how much time I'll have left over for fun things, like reading or watching all of Party Down for the 4th time. I am forever making lists of things to buy, things to give to Goodwill, grocery lists, Target lists, and lists of possible gifts for birthdays, Father's Day, Mother's Day, Christmas, and GIFTS FOR NO RAISIN.

Back when I was doing NaNoWriMo, I made a list of characters for the book I was writing because I kept forgetting who everyone was. I had a list going of how many words I'd written, and how many I had left. I pro and con everything from whether or not to change my name to whether I should run inside or outside.

Do spreadsheets count as lists? Because I have a spreadsheet for the push-up challenge so I know how many push-ups I did on any given day. I have a spreadsheet to keep track of where I am on Couch to 5K. I have a spreadsheet for my checking account balance and a spending log to keep track of where I'm putting my money each month and spreadsheet for keeping track of how much my monthly bills fluctuate.

Just today, I've created the following lists: work To Do list, home To Do list, To Do list for when I'm off work tomorrow, upcoming expenses, and possible cupcake flavors for the reception. Just last night, I met with the director of the place I volunteer to set up a blog for the organization. Today I made a list of stuff I want to add to the blog. It's not even 10 o'clock, I haven't actually DONE anything yet, and I'm exhausted.

You guys. I made a lists OF LISTS before I wrote this post. I HAVE A SICKNESS.

Heaven is whenever.

Listen, I know that we are living in a material world, but I am just not a material girl. Stuff doesn't make me happy. It took months to convince me to have a non-wedding, and it's taken months to convince me to register for non-wedding presents, and now that I've agreed to both I feel queasy and more than a little mortified. Except.

"Oh my God. You listen to your iPod more than anyone I know. How are you going to live?" This, from a co-worker, the day after my BFF passed away. And it's true; I barely survived. Way back during the Worst. Year. Ever. my iPod was the only thing that got me through the day, head in my hands, earbuds firmly in place, Boxer on repeat to drown out the rest of the world. Twenty-ten has been in many ways oddly reminiscent of that year, and I'm not quite sure what I'd do without High Violet on repeat to drown out the outside world.

When my BFF passed away I got a lot of advice from a lot of people, most of which boiled down to ditching the iPod in favor of a smart phone. But the thing my iPod has that a smart phone does not is space. And I'm a girl in desperate need of space. This summer has turned oppressive, the humidity suffocating and thick, the heat bullying. Sometimes I want to listen to Vampire Weekend and imagine cool ocean breezes. Sometimes I want to crank up Rage Against the Machine and rage against the weather. Sometimes I just want the Backstreet Boys to tell me everything will be all right. Because I need to believe that it will be.

The first thing I think upon waking in the morning is I can't wait for this day to be over. It's part reflex, but it's partly true, too. There's nothing out there for me right now so I don't mind this wasted, shaded daylight. I'm passing my time pining for sunset.

And these are the songs that get me to the night.

No! Stay back! (There's an app for that.)

It seems shallow and flawed to cite anything technology as my favorite possession, especially after Heather did her thing yesterday in an epic return to Mondays. But the topic actually isn't favorite possession, I remind myself, it's NO STAY BACK YOU CAN'T HAVE MY THING.



And my thing is my phone. It's an iPhone (3GS), my I just call it my phone. As in, "Let me check on my phone" or "I hate that I can't use my phone in movies cause the screen is an effin search light" or "when my phone battery dies I feel like I'm going to die."



See the iPhone can do literally anything. I have all my emails in it, so I can be wherever I want doing whatever I want and be on call for work. Being on call for work is part of my job and before my phone when I was traveling I would have to carry my laptop with me everywhere and obsessively check for wifi. Now, NOW, I can be on call without thinking about it. People argue and say that now I have to "always worry about checking my phone" but now I know that everything I ever need to know will be in my phone and I don't have to worry. Having my phone has solved nearly all of my problems.

The camera is obviously my favorite feature because it's so easy to take photo then send photo. In addition to a bajillion drunk self-portraits, I'm constantly recording stuff that I always lose: my prescription refill numbers, which key opens which lock, DVDs at Target that I need to add to my Netflix queue. Bam, photographed.



"There's an app for that" is true as well. My home page boasts what I use most often: Twitter, Facebook, Reader, Foursquare. I use Sleep Cycle to chart my REM cycles every single night. I use Maps when I'm going anywhere. Sigalert tells me traffic conditions in a way. On the next page of my apps, I can find movie times. Movie times is one of those things now that I hate looking up any other way (remember calling that phone number and entering your zip code?!) and there is no way I could track my Hundred Push Up Challenge without the app (shout out to my push up buddies!)



There are a million possessions I love for sentimentality, but I love this in a different way because it's an extension of myself. It is communication and it is knowledge. It's my way of connecting with the world and with my favorite people. I'm secure in that truth, so go ahead and call me shallow and flawed. I'll be over here farming on my phone.

You can have this barbecue sandwich when you pry it out of my cold, dead hands.

If you were to slip a little truth serum into my lemonade and ask me what one adjective best describes me, I'd say "Southern." I'd capitalize it like that, too; maybe even spell it out. And If you slipped truth serum into my vodka, I'd say it like this: "Suth-uhn." Because when I'm drunk -- or surrounded by my family -- I stop trying to hide my accent.

I'm well-traveled, I like to think. I've been a lot of places. I've bought a lot of postcards. And whoo boy, have I taken a beating about my accent. I just go ahead and preemptively apologize for it these days because if I don't, people think it's a joke -- the way I drop the "ing" off of every word and cannot pronounce the long "i" sound. The first time I went to Oregon, one of my dad's coworkers made me the butt of a three-day joke about sweet tea. "Swayt Tay," he kept saying over and over, while everyone laughed and laughed. I was a kid; I didn't know only Southerners drown their iced tea in sugar. I didn't know people pronounce "Sweet Tea" the way it is spelled.

There are a lot of un-Southern things about me, for sure. My political views and religious leanings are a good jumping off point.

But I say "Yes, ma'am" and "No, sir" and even my best friend's parents, whom I've known since I was 13, get a Mr. and Mrs. in front of their first names. I listen to country music in the mornings with the windows down in my little pickup truck while I'm driving my dog to Loretta's or Kurt's or Frank's to get a gravy biscuit. It takes me ten minutes to get through the checkout line at the grocery store because pleasantries are always necessary, even if I'm only buying bread.

And the things I say in every day conversation! "I'm fixin' to do this" and "I couldn't give a lick about that." I love Scout Finch. Have I ever told you that? She's my favorite. I talk just like her.

The best thing about the South, though, besides that everyone is really pretty nice when they're not trying to baptize you or shove you into a Sarah Palin rally, is the barbecue. People in the South take barbecue as seriously as the Bible. And oh, it is delicious. And oh, it is plentiful.
You can't drive far in any direction without landing at a barbecue place of some kind, serving a sauce recipe that's been handed down for four generations.

The best barbecue in all of Georgia lives in my little town. It's called The Smokehouse, and it's only a wooden shack for ordering and a wooden shack for eating, only open three days a week, and people will drive 150 miles one-way on a weekend just to eat a sandwich and a cup of brunswick stew. It takes at least half an hour to get your food on Saturday, and no one ever complains. They just crowd into the shack with the slamming screen door and the one ceiling fan, and talk about how long it took them to get there, how they discovered The Smokehouse in the first place. People shake hands when their order is called, too. Like it was a pleasure to meet you and now we're friends forever. Barbecue Buddies.

The second time I came home from Europe, it was a Friday and I drove straight from the airport to The Smokehouse.

"Where ya been?" April, the order-taker, asked me.

"Just got back from England," I told her. "On my way home from the airport."

"England!" she said, as if I'd told her I'd come straight from Narnia. "Like England with the queen and all? Princess Diana?"

I nodded.

She actually poked her head through the window, to survey me properly, and then whispered, "I hear they're all inbred over there."

I laughed and it ricocheted off the two-by-fours. "That's funny," I told her "because that's what everyone in America thinks about the South."

"Well, the rest of America can all go to hell," she said. "Pardon my French."

"I went to France, too," I grinned.

She said, "I don't even want to talk about that."

Then April pulled her head back in the window. I'd been gone two months. I hadn't ordered. It didn't matter. "Pork sandwich, cup of stew, brownie, sweet tea with extra ice!" she shouted.

"You like it over there in Europe?" she asked, taking the exact change I offered for my meal.

I did like it over there in Europe. I love it over there. I long for it.

"Yeah," I said. "But I missed it here. Y'all can understand what I'm sayin'."

Phone it in Friday: Who else wishes Deathly Hallows was a summer movie?

Dearest internets, tell us what movies we should go see this summer. Aaaaaand GO!

happy happy joy joy

I honestly think that Joe and I would have never met had it not been for Match, because we are both hermits who would rather sit at home and watch movies than go out and like, talk to strangers. However, we theoretically COULD have run into each other many, many times, considering we're from the same town and all. When we were kids, we lived about a street apart but went to different schools because Joe is a Catholic and I am a heathen. Had either of us been allowed to ride our bike any further than four houses (each way!), maybe we would have become friends as tiny children, except NO WAY because boys were gross and smelly back then.

I also worked with his dad at a smallish company, the same company my dad had once worked for. I passed his dad in the hall almost every day, exchanging polite smiles, never dreaming that I'd one day be marrying his son. I mean, I didn't even know he had any sons. It's not like I scouted the offices of men my dad's age, searching for photos of their hot, single sons although OMG doesn't that sound like a good way to meet someone? Sure, it could lead to massive disappointment or, you know, crazy people but so does regular dating. Anyway. Once Joe and I started emailing and exchanged last names, I thought, "Huh, he has the same last name as Bill at work...I wonder if they're related," and OBVIOUSLY they were because it's not a very common last name, you know?

So it turns out that we could have very easily met as children or at some random company function, but we didn't. We also could have met at a concert since we shared the same taste in music. Actually, we were both present at the Spoon concert I went to a couple of years ago. We might have seen each other! He told me he pretty much stood in one spot in the back all night, and I made numerous trips to the bar for beer and to the bathroom BECAUSE of all the trips to the bar for beer so I might have seen him and been all, "that guy is TALL" and he might have seen me and been like, "why is that 12-year-old drinking beer?"

My favorite thing to imagine is that we went to the same movie showing at some point. I like to think of us sitting in the same, dark movie theater, enjoying the same movie, and being completely unaware that the person we were going to marry was sitting RIGHT THERE. Because between the two of us, we've been to a lot of movies. And there are only so many movie theaters in the Dayton area. And we like the same kinds of movies, except Joe likes superhero movies WAY more than I do, but still. It could have happened.

But alas, we did not meet before Match, which is fine, really, because we met in the summer and that meant lots of summer movie dates. We saw Wanted and we were all PUNCH KICK AWESOME FIGHT and he didn't care that I spent the entirety of the movie like this: JAMES MCAVOY DROOOOL. And then we saw WALL-E and I cried like five times and didn't even care that I was crying in front of him which was weird. I try not to cry in front of anyone so they don't know I have feelings.

This summer, I'm looking forward to Toy Story 3. He's looking forward to Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. We're both looking forward to Inception. We probably would have gone to all these movies even if we hadn't met, maybe even the same theater, maybe even the same showing. It's so much better now that we know each other. We sit next to each other now.

This Bloody Mary's lacking in Tabasco.

It's rare movie indeed that can lure me to spend $15 for the pleasure of spending two hours with the mouth-breathing masses and nary an alcoholic beverage in sight. In fact, in recent years these are the only movies I've seen in the theater: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Star Trek, and The Fantastic Mr. Fox.

Now, this is not to say that I do not like movies; quite the contrary, in fact (I subscribe to both HBO and Starz, after all). It's just that the speed at which movies are now shown on HBO and Starz means that with a little patience, I can watch what is likely to be a really terrible movie (I'm looking at you Confessions of a Shopaholic, He's Just Not That Into You, and The Hangover (but not The Proposal; that movie was super-cute)) in the comfort of my own living room, a living room which is free from the two things I hate most about the movie theater: children and pants.

The end.

P.S., Let us now enjoy this picture of my cat in a box.

Must. See.

Must See Summer Movies

Toy Story 3
Are you guys so excited for this?! As a perpetual sequel-lover (the more the better I say, even if it's shit) and a toy lover I'm counting down the days to next weekend. And this won't be shit because it's Pixar and that's the point of Pixar. Awesome comma not shit.


Knight and Day
What is this movie even about?! I don't know and I don't care! There's guns and fast cars and probably some sort of heisty spy plan and what do you know! that's my favorite genre.


Step Up 3D
Adam Shankman's latest dance movie? Yes, please.

phoning it in, cause it's Friday and all

This is what I've been reading lately: PowerPoint presentations about rationalization and the state of our business in terms of HR and staffing solutions and zzzzzzzzzzzzz because I've been at an HR Summit all this week. Some parts were OK, like the free food and drinks at the baseball game. And other things, like the free food and drinks at dinner the other night. And, um, yeah, I can't think of anything else right now.

I DID, however, get today off so bonus. I just finished Brave New World. How much do I love dystopian novels? SO MUCH. That's the answer. Here's the thing about Brave New World. For some reason, I've never read it. Actually, I believe that reason is that I thought Brave New World was about, like, a new way to run a slaughterhouse. I...I have no idea why I thought that. I was totally surprised when I started reading it and there was nothing about horrible treatment of cows or poor beakless chickens or anything. I don't know where the idea came from, but it was wrong, obviously.

Now I'm reading Possible Side Effects, because despite my completely normal childhood and, well, vagina, for some reason I totally identify with Augusten Burroughs and could read about his Crazy constantly because it makes me feel better about my own.

What are you guys reading? I need to beef up my Goodreads To Read list.

In which I write about books that turned into Ralph Fiennes movies.

So yeah, I am currently reading (in bits and pieces when I have, like, five minutes to myself WHICH IS NOT OFTEN) The End of the Affair by Graham Greene, because, I don't know, I want my books to drive me to suicide or something. I mean, seriously, this thing is kicking my ass. Like this, for example:

'It's in the boy's capacity,' Mr Parkis said with pride, 'and nobody can resist Lance.'

'He's called Lance, is he?'

'After Sir Lancelot, sir. Of the Round Table.'

'I'm surprised. That was a rather unpleasant episode, surely.'

'He found the Holy Grail,' Mr Parkis said.

'That was Galahad. Lancelot was found in bed with Guinevere.' Why do we have the desire to tease the innocent? Is it envy? Mr Parkis said sadly, looking across at his boy as though he had betrayed him, 'I hadn't heard.'

Naturally (I think?) this reminds me immediately of The English Patient, which we all know is the most depressing movie (though curiously, not book) of all time.

Where was I going with this? The fucking oil leak is depressing the hell out of me.

Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

Someone recently gave me a book called 10 Ways to Unleash Your Imagination, and when I showed it to Amy, her face skipped right past amusement and landed straight on terror. She said, "Do you really need to unleash your imagination — more?" Which is a fair question, coming from her, since she's the one who spends half her life worrying that I'm going to accidentally drive my car into a ravine because I'm busy imagining what kind of dinosaurs used to live in these mountains.

Amy said that most people's imagination unleashed is like a lap dog or a cat: cuddly and warm and manageable. And that my imagination unleashed is like if you tried to keep a pet dragon in your back yard. I said that her nephew has an imagination twice as big as mine. And she said yeah, but that he doesn't have disposable income or a license to operate a motor vehicle.

Anyway, I've been reading the book on the sly, and one of the things it says is that your best creativity is right when you wake up from your dreams and right before you go to sleep. And so it gives these tips about prolonging that sleep/awake state at night so you can then wake up and record your insanity. (Like holding marbles in your hand above a plastic bowl.) And also the book says you should write down your dreams as soon as you wake up. So here are my entries since I started:

Morning one: Yeah. I'm not writing that dream down for anyone to see. Ever.

Night one: Well, that fucking marble trick didn't work because Scout ate three of them as soon as they hit the bowl and woke me right up and now the only thing I can imagine is more vet bills.

Morning two: Having dinner with my sister's conservative evangelical sisters-in-law. One of them said God gave her a message for me: she prophesied that I would die in a tragic car accident in five days. Paying for dinner I saw a friend who was killed in a car accident earlier this year. She said, "See you Monday." Which is ... five days from today. Creepy!

Night two: Investigating Abraham Lincoln's death with Veronica Mars, both wearing jeans, everyone staring. I think she's into me.

Morning three: Visited a ranch where all the animals can fly. A horse said he would show me how because he can see I have a good soul, can be responsible with magic. (I knew it!)

Night three: Another non-recordable.

Morning four: I was a pirate fighting Voldemort who was also a pirate. An evil wizard pirate.

Night four: Someone broke into my house, and I totally flashed and kicked his ass! And Scout was baying and baying, and I was trying to hush her because I didn't want the CIA to hear her and come find me.

Morning five: Amy and I testing out different inventions to help us mountain bike on the moon. You wouldn't believe the trails on the moon! The animals are the same as animals on my trails (squirrels, chipmunks, etc.), but they're all hot pink.

Night five: Color-your-own Converse All-Stars with special magic crayons.

Morning six: Nope.

I don't feel like more creativity has been unleashed since I started keeping my journal. In fact, the only thing I think I've discovered about myself is that my dreams are 50 percent salacious. I think maybe it's time to move on to the next chapter.

What I'm Reading

So. I keep forgetting to post on Mondays. I can't explain why I can't remember. But I can't. And this is a perfect segue to the book I'm currently reading.



My Name is Memory by Ann Brashares

It is commonly known that I love all things Brashares beginning with the Traveling Pants and all the way to this latest book of hers which I'm half way through. I think about it all the time. I am anxious about it, I am in love with it. It's a bit Time Traveler's Wife except with reincarnation instead of time travel and with stories spanning millenniums.

My iPad has got me reading a ton more which is great (although costing me a small digital fortune) and the first books I got on it were, of course, the continuation in this Nora Roberts series I love. I told it I wanted Memory when it was released on June 1 and just like magic it came to me in the night on the tablet of magic.

The other thing I love about the tablet of magic is that I can download samples of books which is nice because I can tell whether or not a book is going to totally bore me or totally depress me (two things I just can't deal with).

Anything I should download?

Abigail Interviews Kat

You have approximately two million and four talents. If you had to only be good at one of them, which would you pick?

Mostly they're not talents. Because if anyone who was actually talented in any one of my "talents" went head-to-head with my so-called [life] talents, I would be shamed. Just ask Seth's newest stepmother. ANYWHO, I would pick cooking, because I've been doing it the longest and at this point it requires the least amount of effort. (I don't really have time for effort.)

What's the most money you've spent on clothing and/or shoes? Was it worth it?

Hmm. This is a weird question for me, because I literally still wear clothes I bought in middle school. Which was 20 years ago. Think about that for a second and I'll be by with Windex after your brain explodes.

If you could imagine a tolerable reality show that you would be totally into, what would it be?

It would have to be something mind-numbingly boring, like, "Hey, Let's Watch Kat Collate Even Though She Normally Doesn't Collate!" I don't really understand the question (it's an Abigail question).

What's your favorite video gaming system and your favorite game with it?

The first (and only one of two) game(s) that I ever beat in my entire life was Mega Man 3 for the Nintendo Game Boy [spaces inserted willy-nilly because it's late and I have another full day tomorrow so Google these names your own damn self] so I guess that.

How great is Jennie and Joe's wedding going to be?

Duh, the greetest.

You love books. Is there a preferable kind of binding/length of book that makes reading perfect?

You know what, not really. When we went on the cruise (from hell) Seth suggested I bring along War and Peace because it would be funny (and it was), but I super enjoyed it except for the quote-unquote preachy parts at the end (it's not at all religious preachy). And that book was nearly 2000 pages. Then again, Wuthering Heights is, like, five pages long and I don't much like a single word. So what I'm saying is, surprise me.

Would you ever get a Kindle or other e-reader?

I WOULD! But only because War and Peace was really heavy and I would have appreciated it in, like, smaller volumes. Or on a Kindle.

When is Seth building the Collective club house? I mean, your house?

Seth ain't building shit. He's hiring contractors to build shit. So, whenever that happens.

How often do you learn new words? What are your most favorite recently learned words?

I'm fairly certain the Word of the Day feed has looped back around once or twice. But I did think this was timely: oleaginous - having the nature or qualities of oil.

What's the best part about being a hero?

Having Heather Anne in your corner.

What's the worst part about being a hero?

Hate mail from America (which I'm getting THANKS BP).

I am fairly obsessive about my Winston calendar and sometimes sit back and secretly peek ahead to coming months. Are you like this too, or is tempered by your proximity to the actual cuteness? Are you already planning next year's calendar?

I frequently berate Winston for not being cute enough for next year's calendar. It's like he's purposely making my life miserable and junk.

When and where will your next epic vacation be?

No idea. Everywhere will soon be covered in oil.

What's your greatest ship on TV (or movie)?

I have to say Jack and Kate. Which is weird because everyone hates Jack and I hate Kate.

How organized are your bookmarks in Firefox?

Have you met me?

Describe the perfect weekend (stole this question from you).

Ditto Jennie's answer. Had drinks with quote-unquote Sir, went on a long hike, spent a lovely evening with old friends and their new baby, with lots of home-cooked meals in between.

Tell me about all the ice flavors you've invented.

I'm assuming you mean "ice cream," and the answer is none, because every ice cream flavor has been invented so far as I know.

When will your job give you your life back and what will you do to celebrate?

Basically when I quit. Because I've won the lottery. And then I'm paying off my student loans (and also my friend Jenny's) and then disappearing from the face of the internet. So you might want to start taking applications for my replacement because this totally likely scenario is happening ANY MINUTE NOW.

How often do you look in a mirror each day? (I'm a can't-help-myself as-often-as-possible type person.)

Literally, once. On my way out in the morning. Which is why I GET SO ANGRY when people don't tell other people that they have spinach in their teeth or boogers in their nose or smooshed bug guts across their foreheads (this happened to me!). (I mean, I spent TEN HOURS with big guts smeared across my forehead and not one goddamned person said anything and I hope they all die horrible painful disfiguring deaths.)

Ahem.

Why do you love farming?

Because it's less stressful than lawyering.

Jennie interviewed by Kat

1. Are you a snooze button hitter? If so, on average, how many times do you hit the snooze button before getting out of bed? Also if so, HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?

I am the worst snooze button hitter EVER. I've tried to break myself of this habit so many times. I've tried setting the alarm for the last possible minute I could get out of bed and still make it to work on time but then I'm just, you know, late because I still hit snooze. I've tried putting the clock on the other side of the room but I get out of bed, smack the snooze button, and flop back in bed without fully waking up. I probably hit snooze anywhere between 2 and 4 times. I live with myself because I have much worse habits.

2. Do you pick out your outfit for the day before you go to bed or in the morning? Why?

Sometimes. It depends on how motivated I am the night before. The same goes for packing my lunch and setting up coffee for the morning.

3. What items do you always have to have with you when you leave the house?

Phone. Wallet. Chapstick.

4. How long is your commute to work? What do you do to pass the time?

It's about thirty to forty minutes, which is about thirty to twenty minutes better than it used to be. I use this time to make important phone calls (that I can't make at work (because yeah, that's safe)) or sing Glee songs as loud as I possibly can.

5. Describe the perfect weekend.

Assuming you mean at home, and not traveling to some exotic location, I would say this past Memorial Day weekend was pretty perfect, full of sleeping in, leisurely breakfasts, cookouts, bike rides, bison burgers, and an outdoor Avett Brothers concert where the beer was plentiful, the drunks were entertaining, and the weather was perfect.

6. If you could have any job in the world, what would it be?

I would love it if someone would pay me to sit at home in my pajamas making up utter nonsense (see: Figment, Beatrice and her time-traveling dinosaur, etc). I have yet to parlay this into a paying gig.

7. So, you're planning a wedding, right? How's that going?

Meh. I feel like I should be more stressed or working harder or something. The best part so far was getting to eat free cake. I still think eloping sounds awesome, except for the whole getting-murdered-by-our-families thing that would happen when we got back.

8. What's the one thing you are really, really hoping you get as a wedding present?

My friend's husband joked that he'd get us a Skittles game for our wedding since we had so much fun playing theirs. I'm sort of hoping he's not joking.

9. Okay, enough of the boring questions. If you had to move to a city you've never been to before, which one would you choose?

Austin, TX. Or San Diego. Um, basically anywhere it doesn't snow like ever.

10. Let's say you were stranded on The Island, and the Dharma Initiative food drop (IGNORE THE FACT THAT THEY WERE WIPED OUT IN THE PURGE/ATOM BOMB EXPLOSION AHEM) only contained one kind of food. What kind of food would you hope it would be?

Peanut butter. I could make a sandwich out of leaves or something, right?

11. What's the worst thing about being a woman?

Cramps. And certain members of the government thinking they have any business being all up in my uterus.

12. What's the best thing about being a woman?

Boobs?

13. If you could make out with one rock star right this second (sorry Joe!), who would it be?

Glen Hansard but he has to sing first. Does he count as a rock star? He's not very rocky.

14. What is your all-time least favorite book?

I couldn't finish The Devil Wears Prada because it was so terribly written PLUS it made me angry that the author made so much money. BUT Atonement made me want to burn down Ian McEwan's house.

15. Never mind the circumstances, but let's say you had to part with one of your limbs. The full limb, from either the shoulder or hip socket. Which one would you choose?

Left leg.

16. Are you planning on moving to Heather Anne's farm with me, or what? If so, what are you going to be in charge of?

Totally. When are we moving? I would like to be in charge of the baby elephants.

17. What's your puppy-getting time frame?

We keep talking about getting one RIGHT THE HELL NOW but it will probably wait until after the wedding/honeymoon.

18. Death or cake?

Uh, cake, please.

19. Why does running suck so hard?

Because it feels too much like exercise. That's why riding a bike is way better. It tricks me into exercising because A) it's so fun! and B) it reminds me of being a kid and C) it's so fun!

20. You have one wish to use in an entirely selfish way. What do you wish for?

A time machine*, obviously.

*clear titanium bubble included

Heather interviewed by Jennie (and Joe).

1. This isn't really a question BUT. Please share something you've written recently that you really like. Or two things! All the things!

OK, here's something I wrote in a TV recap yesterday while I was ... tipsy and Gchatting Abigail.

Emily wakes up to the familiar sound of Naomi running for her life. She sighs and her face looks like, "Goddamit, Naomi Campbell!" And her morning hair looks like it was licked into place by kittens. And she gets up and marches straight up the hill, shouting at Naomi to stop right now. And Naomi — just listen to this bollocky wankshite right here — Naomi literally goes, "What?"

What? What?! What in the homegrown banana fuck do you think?

2. What's it like to be such a super talented writer?

Sorry, is Joe asking this to Jennie or is Jennie asking this to Joe?

3. This is from Joe: Who would win in a fight: Kitty Pryde or Batgirl?

Uh, Batgirl. But Ellen Page would kick Alicia Silverstone's ass. (Even I could kick Alicia Silverstone's ass.)

4. This is from me: Who would win in a fight: Intersect 2.0 Chuck or Agent Sarah Walker? (I don't know why they're fighting...maybe it's foreplay, who knows)

OK, so Amy and I had a long chat about this last night and what we ultimately decided is: Agent Sarah Walker would win because she knows Chuck's (and therefore the Intersect's) weakness. And the weakness, of course, is her. "That's what makes you weak." "No! That's what makes you great!" Swoooooooooooon.

5. Cookies or ice cream?

Warm chocolate chip cookies forever.

6. Do you think Steve Carell should leave The Office when his contract is up?

I can't imagine The Office without Steve Carell. (Next year, though, I'd really like to see more Jenna Fischer. Pam felt so absent this year.)

7. Who do you think the funniest woman on TV is?

This is a great question! I'd like to give a less cliched response, but I really think it's gotta be Tina Fey.

8. Funniest man?

Ty Burrell, who plays Phil Dunphy in Modern Family, is super funny. But I think I gotta cliche this one too and say Jon Stewart.

9. Have you read Pride & Prejudice & Zombies? If so, what'd you think?

You will not be surprised to hear that it tormented me.

10. I don't buy Lydia as a zombie-killer. I think she'd probably just want to make out with the soldier-zombies. Thoughts?

Totally. Lydia is kind of a whore.

11. What's the first thing you're going to do when you go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter?

Faint, probably. Like those fools who meet rock stars.

12. Joe told me that Hogwarts isn't real. Why would he do that?

I can only assume his soul has been stolen. BY VOLDEMORT.

13. Remember how Neville got totally badass in Book 7?

You just sent chills up my spine. Here's something pretty funny: This dude is reading Harry Potter for the first time and blogging about it chapter by chapter. He just finished the first book and watched the first movie and the only thing he knows is that -- SPOILER ALERT (though if you haven't read HP by now, I don't know what to say to you) -- Snape kills Dumbledore.

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be a gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose--that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

FIRST OF ALL, YOU DO NOT INSULT MY HAGRID. SECONDLY, GO DIE IN A FIRE. THIRDLY, SNAPE PLEASE CHOKE ON A RUTABEGA. FOURTHLY, FIVE POINTS FROM YOUR FACE.

I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'VE NOTICED, BUT I LIKE TO BOLD AND ITALICIZE MY WORDS TO GIVE THEM EXTRA MEANING BEYOND THE ALL CAPS ATTACK.

14. Do you ever miss your old blog?

Yeah. A lot. I got the saddest email from an old blog reader the other day who said, "I miss the way you used to write when no one cared what you thought about TV." And I miss that too.

15. What would you do if you found a baby bear?

Bring him home and cuddle him because I wouldn't be able to help myself (because have you seen baby bears) and then I'd wake up the next morning without a face.

16. If you could change one TV show event, what would you change?

Clone Lois marries Clark.

17. If you could get rid of one TV show character, who would you get rid of and why?

AIDAN FUCKING SHAW. I WOULD ERASE HIM FROM HISTORY.

18. What show should everyone be watching? Besides Chuck, which I think goes without saying at this point. Hee.

Dudes. If you did not watch Modern Family this season, catch up over the summer because it was the best comedy happening on TV this year. I mean smart and hysterical and heart-warming and almost always perfect. But also, if you're not watching Chuck, I just. I don't even.

19. Have you ever had a perfect day? What made it perfect?

I feel like I have had so many perfect days. Collective Thanksgiving in DC and Collective Christmas in Chicago were perfect days. And what made them perfect was Collective.

20. What is your favorite awful movie?

Oh, easy. Amanda Byne's What a Girl Wants. I'll bet I've watched that movie 150 times.

Abigail interviewed by Heather

- If you were guaranteed an answer to any question from any person in the world, who and what would you ask?
This is a Heather question, not a Schilbo question, so I'd just give it over to her to pick.

- What is one thing that always make you laugh hysterically?
When my friends make fun of me. Or when I make fun of them.

- If you could be president of any corporation, which would you choose?
Something I've started that works and makes sense and helps people.

- What household chore do you hate the most?
I really, really hate vacuuming. And washing crusty pots and pans.

- If you were a nationality other than American, what would you choose?
Such a Heather question. SUCH a Heather question. (Her answer is GB, duh.)

- What is your best chance of becoming famous?
Best chance is knowing someone famous, but second best is starting a business.

- What is the television show you've been most embarrassingly addicted to?
The Hills because nobody understood why I loved it.

- What is your favorite time of the day?
Maybe when I first wake up in the morning. I have the whole day left to do all the awesome things I love about my life, my Google Reader is full, I have crops to harvest, and Starbucks to get. Just so.. full. The other favorite time is when my shows come at night, especially if Heather is burning the midnight oil to watch with me.

- If you could just know all of the information from any five Wackopedia entries, which ones would you choose?
I think it's only fair to exclude entries that have info that could be easily obtained elsewhere (though I would love to know all the history of the world), and focus on what Wackopedia is really good at and that is television. Especially reality television. Mmmmm. But honestly, I can narrow it down and honestly, I really just bother Kat when I need information that isn't about TV.

- What irritates you the most in a social situation?
Um, everything? Let's see, when people talk? When I'm expected to nod along and not be disagreeable? When people say WRONG THINGS and don't know what the FUCK they're talking about?

- What five words best describe you when you're drunk?
Hugs, loves, whispers, yells, and consistent. (You guys, Jennie sent us the best texts Friday night. The first was: "I could do my drunk post now ps i smell marijawanna.")

- When you play out meet-cutes in your head, what are your favorite places to meet?
You guys, my whole imagination is meet-cutes which is weird because I would never use the word "romantic" to describe myself.

- Of all the readers of the Collective, who has a quality you're most envious of? What's the quality?
Oh, Ashley's infinite ability to think and consume and think and write all together.

- If you were a teacher, what subject would you teach?
Communications or First Year Seminar which is a fancy title for "don't be an idiot at college (if you can help it)."

- What's the most beautiful word you can think of?
Sweatpants. Mmmmmm.

- What FV achievement are you most proud of?
My killer mastery efficiency including being both the first and only of my neighbors to get blackberries when it was impossible. Being the first of my neighbors to level 70 was a nice byproduct achievement of that.

- What FourSquare achievement are you most proud of?
I'm currently mayor of three Starbucks, including one that is very competitive.

- When you're watching someone else use a computer, what three things make you the most bonkers?
1) People who don't use keyboard shortcuts, especially alt-tab
2) Going to a search engine instead of using the search bar
3) IE and the various ridiculous toolbars that come along with it