She calls it a MAYONEGG.

I tried and tried (for real this time) to think of something that creeped me out and came up with pretty much nothing. Nothing that hasn't already been mentioned, anyway, because that Flickr thing is creepy as hell.

This, however? Makes me gag. Egg Bland Ann Veal is totally creepy. In the best way.

 

Also, I'm a little creeped out by how long I played this game:

I CAN'T HELP IT, I AM RIDICK-U-LUS.

That is all.

no one can stop us now

  I, like many other bored-at-work-type people, recently watched the Neil DeGrasse Tyson video where he reveals the most astounding fact about the universe. Here it is, if you haven't seen it, and if you feel like being good-touched-not-bad-touched by beauty today:



If you don't feel like watching it (what's wrong with you?) or you can't because THE MAN will see you, the basic premise is this: We are not really so small, you and I. We contain the universe. Every single of one of us is made of the dust of dying stars.

HOW FUCKING COOL IS THAT. I'm sorry, I know this is an old(ish) thought. I already had this information in my brain (somewhere), having stumbled across it in one fall-down-the-rabbit-hole websurfing session or another, but if you think about it, really think about it, it's just so mindbogglingly awesome. I have trouble forming coherent thoughts about it because IT'S JUST SO FUCKING COOL. I wish I could be more poetic but COME ON. An idea that big, that beautiful, is just screaming for some caps lock profanity. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

I was in Chicago with some friends recently, just for the weekend, visiting for another friend's pre-wedding festivities. We went out to breakfast one morning and, as it was a Saturday morning in a busy Chicago restaurant, there was a long wait. As I stood within the throng of patiently waiting customers, trying to ignore the caffeine headache on the horizon and the gnawing emptiness in my stomach, I was overwhelmed as more and more people came into the restaurant.

"There are just SO MANY PEOPLE in the world," I thought, as I huddled closer to my own group. There are so many strangers, so many people I'll never know, never meet, and, at that very moment, it felt like each and every one of them was there in that waiting room. I began to feel smaller and smaller, more and more insignificant, as I gazed at the shoulders and backs (what, I'm short) of the strangers around me. None of those people will ever know who I am. I'm just like so many of them, a carbon copy. And instead of feeling like that meant I was connected to them, to these complete strangers, I felt like I hardly mattered. "There are so many of me," I thought. "WHAT IS THE POINT OF ANYTHING?"

Now. I can easily chalk most of that feeling up to hunger and caffeine-deprivation, but still, I do have to admit that I've been feeling a bit on the worthless side lately, if I'm being completely honest. I spend a lot of time questioning many of my decisions, wondering how I stumbled into this particular career, for instance, and how (or if) I can stumble back out of it. Some days I'm full of optimism, sure I can do it, all I have to do is take a little step every day and sooner or later I'll wake up and be in a different place, without even realizing I was going anywhere. But other days...other days, I can't see anything in front of me but a gray haze. All I can focus on is the success of those around me, their good fortune instead of my own, and I spend so much time wondering what they've done that I haven't, and even though I know the answer is most definitely something like, "WORK HARD, DUH," I can't help but think maybe it's never going to happen. Maybe I'll always be in this place. Bored most of the day. Unfulfilled yet full of regret. A waste of space and potential.

It's days like this that I really need the reminder this video gives me. That I'm OK. More than OK, really. I'm full of stars.

I was sorely tempted to make a joke out of this week's topic, because that's what I do. The oldest thing I own is probably...a book, maybe? My house? But no. If I allowed myself to be completely serious, I'd tell you that the oldest thing I own is me, those parts of me that hold the tiniest bits of the universe, the parts I'm still trying to figure out.

Does silence make me uncomfortable?

  No.

wibbly wobbly

  Everyone learns the same rules before they go to college. Don’t go barefoot in the shower. Buy a hot pot and as much ramen as you can afford. Beer before liquor makes you sicker, liquor before beer, you’re in the clear. But no one tells you that you don’t have to have everything figured out right away. Or maybe they do, but you don’t believe them because you’re 18 and you think you know everything.

I wish someone had told me that I didn’t have to have everything figured out before moving forward on something, that I was allowed to make mistakes, and that even if when I made mistakes, things would be OK. EARTH TO JENNIE: it’s OK to make mistakes IT IS PART OF BEING A NORMAL HUMAN PERSON. Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck standing still, because I’m trying to plan the perfect course of action before I take the first step.

I was talking to a coworker recently who just finished a writing class. I asked him if he liked the class, if he thought it had helped him write more, write better. He was unsure. He said he likes hanging out with other writers but that, at some point, he needs to stop taking classes and just write, that he needs to stop hiding behind writing classes. He told me about his friend who wanted to be an actor, who took class after class, but had never been to one audition because he thought he wasn’t yet good enough.

And it comes down to a matter of confidence, really. At what point do you decide that not only are you good enough, but that you’re also good? Eventually you have to stop worrying about if you’re really ready and just DO. Just write, just act, just design the shit out of some Star Wars koozies, if that’s what you want. You’re never going to become an expert at something by reading everything ever written about the subject, you just aren’t. You have to get in there, get your hands dirty, give yourself permission to suck. Because, guess what? You’re going to suck for a while. I don’t care if you have the greatest ideas ever, your first attempt is going to be terrible. And that’s OK. The next one will be better. IT’S OK TO MAKE MISTAKES.

This is something I still struggle with so, yes, I wish someone had said this to me sooner. If only we could harness the power of the TARDIS or a DeLoreon or even Calvin’s cardboard box and create PastMe, the opposite of FutureMe. I’d spam the shit out of Past!Jennie with so much advice, you have no idea.

WE HAVE TO GO BACK!

I’m especially good at PROCRASTINATING!

   Here are five things I'm good at blah blah blah TV blah books blah poop blah WHATEVER. 

1. Watching TV

I know this sounds like a weird thing to be good at but I think I’m really good at it, you guys. Like, if there is something I’ve spent my entire life training to be good at, it’s watching and talking about TV. I love it. I don’t watch as much of it as I used to, and I’m not as passionate about some of the shows I used to really, like, triple heart love (Oh, The Office, this hurts me) but when I love a show, I LOVE A SHOW. Like with my whole being. I was just telling Joe the other day that sometimes I worry about my level of obsession when it comes to shows like Community and Friday Night Lights. I feel like those shows are EMBEDDED IN MY SOUL, along with so many others. (Here, I will list them: (early) The Office, The X-Files, Buffy, Party Down, Arrested Development, Veronica Mars, Pushing Daisies, Friends, Sports Night, LOST, DOCTOR WHO OMG.)

Because, you guys? If Community was a person, I would be stalking it. I’d pitch a tent on Community’s front lawn, steal buy the most expensive binoculars I could find, and write love haikus to it in my own blood.

Same goes for all those other shows, too. I’M GLAD THEY ARE NOT PEOPLE OR I’D NEED A BLOOD TRANSFUSION RIGHT NOW. DO YOU SEE HOW MUCH I LOVE THEM? I ABUSE CAPS LOCK, ALL FOR THEM! I DO IT ALL FOR YOU, MULDER SHOWS!

So maybe it’s weird to think I’m good at watching TV, but if it’s good enough for Adam Scott, it’s good enough for me.

2. Picking out books

The other day, I was reading through some Cannonball Reads reviews, looking for books to add to my To Read list on Goodreads (THERE ARE SO MANY BOOK WEBSITES I LOVE IT), when I noticed that there were people reviewing books that they hadn’t so much enjoyed. Maybe they even hated them, who knows? I don’t remember. Sorry.

It was at that point that I realized I hardly ever finish a book and think, “Oh, wow, I hated that.” It’s only happened a handful of times, when I finished The Devil Wears Prada (OK, I did not finish it, I threw the book down in disgust after only a chapter or two), some book by Paulo Coelho (that, in retrospect, I maybe only hated because it was about love and I was maybe not in a good place in my life at that time to be reading about love?), and Atonement (sorry, Ashley). I’m sure there are other books I didn’t like, but I do tend to really enjoy the majority of the books I read. Maybe it’s because I have low expectations, I don’t know, but I prefer to think that I’m just really good at picking out books that I’ll enjoy.

Or I just enjoy all most books. IT’S A MYSTERY.

3. Replacing the words of a song with different words

See post title.

(This one might be cheating because I mostly just replace the words in songs with things like “butt” or “poop” or “buttpoop,” but I think it still counts.)

4. Buying gifts for people

Just...here:

FLASH!

5. Memorizing useless information (mostly in relation to pop culture, to be completely honest)

Like I said, this is mostly in relation to movie quotes from the late 90s/early 00s and TV quotes from always, but I also contain random factoids about orthodontics, even though I haven’t worked at the orthodontist office in five years, as well behind-the-scenes X-Files information, where to fast-forward to if you only want to watch the Elizabeth Bennet/Mr. Darcy googly-eyes scenes in Pride & Prejudice* (this is because I first owned the miniseries ON VHS), and that the inventor of the brassier was Otto Titzling (not, as one might assume, Mr. Titspervert Fitzherbert).

*the real one

deja vu is usually a glitch in the matrix

  I couldn’t remember exactly when we got the internet, so I had to consult my high school journal. You might think it weird that I would have written extensively about the internet in my journal, but I did. Along with descriptions of every interaction I had with my HS crushes, I wrote at length about my favorite TV shows AND how much time I spent on the internet talking about my favorite TV shows. Basically, my high school journal was my blog before blogs existed.

From what I could tell from my journal, before I cringed so hard that my face fell off, we got the internet sometime in 1996 or 1997. And by internet, of course, I mean the kind that came on a CD in the mail...AOL! We started with AOL 3.0 and I think...I think (?) it went up to 7.0 before I moved out and was introduced to the wonder of network internet that you just plugged into your computer from the wall! No dial up! What?

You guys, though, remember dial up? That ksssh kssh wiiiiirrrrrr noise? It brings back so many pleasant memories. It gives me chills, just a little. Shut up. 

 

Remember how sometimes it wouldn't connect right away? And so it would dial over and over and over and you'd just sit and wait, getting more and more anxious that it wouldn't connect, until finally (FINALLY) you heard those magical words:



I swear that early adoption of AOL is why I love You've Got Mail so damn much. I spent so much of my time on AOL, not JUST talking about The X-Files, but chatting with friends and creating terrible websites and lurking in chatrooms. 

Unfortunately, when we first got the internet, we only had one phone line so, you know, if someone was online, that meant no one could use the phone. WE WERE LIVING LIKE SAVAGES. I think I was limited to about an hour of online time a night, which I completely adhered to. Until my parents went to bed and then I'd sneak downstairs and sign on, typing as quietly as possible and SHH-ing the modem.

My internet journey, such as it is, looks something like this:

97 - 2000: AOL

2000 - 2004: Went to college, got fancy fast internet for quick Napster downloads. YES NAPSTER.

2005: Moved out on my own, had to use Netzero or some nonsense dial up because I was super poor and it only cost like $10 a month. 

2006 - Present: Moved in with Heidi, then Joe, suddenly everything was wireless and magical.

Or I suppose it might look like this:

1997 - 2000: Used the internet to talk about TV shows, primarily The X-Files, made nerd friends, and messed with people in AOL chatrooms by entering and saying things like, “the cat flies by the window at midnight with milk for the baby.” The a/s/l people did not like me.  

2000 - 2004: Used the internet for homework/studying, illegal music downloads, and drunken IMing. Started a Diaryland blog that still exists and yes I will link to it because I have no shame. Moved to Blogger for reasons I don't remember. 

2005: Used the internet for blogging. Constantly. Sometimes several times a day. I think I used my blog as a Tumblr before there was Tumblr. "Met" Kat, who (I think?) was sort of my gateway drug to quite a few of you here on this internet (and even some people OFF of this internet...did you know those people exist, because they do).

2006 - Present: I currently use the internet to start and abandon projects and blogs. And like Abigail, I now use the internet for everything. If I don’t know the answer to a question or want to know how to do something, I ask Google. I babble to you all in several different arenas, but not as much as I used to. I use Twitter, Blogger, Wordpress, Facebook, LinkedIn, Tumblr, Google Reader, Google+, GOOGLE EVERYTHING, and even Vox, before it went bye-bye. 

I’m not sure what my life would look like had I never become so enraptured by that first AOL disc, the suspense I felt as the modem connected, the deep contemplation that led to username changes, the obsession that led me right here, to a place in my life where not only do I, pretty much daily, express my thanks that the internet exists, but I’ve met the internet. I invited the internet to my wedding. And I can’t wait to see what the internet has in store for me in the future, even if it involves my consciousness being sucked into the matrix. 

Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together...mass hysteria!

   You know what really drives me crazy? When I completely lose track of what day it is and forget to write my Collective post. I lose track of what day it is almost every week, though, especially toward the end of the week, when my brain gets mushier and mushier. I’m usually OK on Monday and Tuesday and then by Wednesday, I’m all, “It’s Friday, right? It feels like it must be Friday so it has to be Friday because if there are more days in this week, I don’t know what I’ll do. DEAR GOD WHY ISN’T IT FRIDAY.”

So get ready for some crap, internets, because I have about ten minutes to write this! I wrote a little bit about this on my blog earlier this week, but the weather here in Ohio has been balls out crazy all winter. It was 60 yesterday. In February! I was outside, walking around with no coat on! What is happening? Is this the end of the world? I mean, that sucks and all, but if the weather is going to be this beautiful, I’m kind of OK with it.

What worries me is that today is Groundhog Day and the groundhog saw his shadow and got scared (pussy) so we definitely have six more weeks of winter (I mean, it’s science) but does that mean six more weeks from now or six more weeks of ACTUAL winter? Because I feel like we’ve only had a couple of weeks of actual winter so far. If that. I think I’ve only cursed the snow and ice once this winter, which is about ten times behind schedule so I’m not sure what’s going to happen. THE FIRST RULE OF WINTER CLUB IS DON’T TALK ABOUT WINTER CLUB OH JUST KIDDING WINTER CLUB POOPS ON RULES AHHHHHH!

You guys, if winter lasts until April, I really will go crazy. Like FOR REAL, set-my-name-on-fire-on-the-front-lawn, make-sculptures-out-of-my-own-hair, paint-the-walls-with-human-waste CRAZY. And I don’t think Joe wants to clean that up. We’d have to move and we just did that and if we had to do it again I’D GO EVEN CRAZIER.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Happy Groundhog Day.

BING!

hopes, not resolutions

  I turn 30 this year, which isn't really that big of a deal except that I think it satisfies Abigail's love for even numbers. I have to say I prefer 30 to 29. I say that not having yet turned 30 but as a 29-year-old, I often forget how old I really am. For whatever reason, I've not been able to get past saying I'm 28. It's not fear over getting older, not at all, it's just that I have this block in my brain that doesn't allow me to notice that time is passing. Sometimes things slip past this block, things like my friends having babies or becoming an aunt or buying a house, but most of the time I drift through life with no idea how long I've been in the world.

I don't know what will be different this year, not really. I'd be scared to guess, which brings me to my hopes for the year, I suppose. I hope to be braver. I hope good things for me and I hope great things for my friends and family. I hope to write more and travel more and maybe write about traveling more. I hope to meet some of you I've not yet met. I hope to see some of you I HAVE met, but who I haven't seen in far too long. I hope to be more active but save plenty of time for (quality) TV-watching. I hope to make good, informed decisions about everything from my job to what to eat for dinner. I hope to see my family and friends more often, hang out with Joe whenever possible, take Max on lots of walks, and...I guess just leave Phoebe alone, since that's what she likes.

Mostly, though? I hope that I stop this crazy bullshit habit I have of typing all blog posts into a Gmail drafts. Why do I do that? Google Docs is RIGHT THERE. Blogger is RIGHT THERE. Why do I type posts in Gmail drafts and risk losing them to the accidentally-hit-Discard void? Because that's happened before. Oh, yes. It's happened. And like most of my problems, it's due to my own stupidity. So I guess I hope to have less of that this year. FINGERS CROSSED.

One more thing. I hope to celebrate more milestones, both big and small. Milestones like this one: The Collective began four years ago (give or take some days), which is basically a high school amount of time, and not a day goes by that I'm not thankful to have found all of you wonderfully strange people. I love you weirdos. Yay!

YOU GUYS

   We close on our house on Friday. FRIDAY. FRIIIIIIIDAAAAAAAAAY. That's tomorrow, for those keeping track at home. I keep saying it but it still doesn't feel real. I mean, it did a little earlier when I transferred a gajillion dollars from savings to checking to cover the down payment on Friday but still. No keys, no reality. Or something. I don't know.

I feel on the verge of hysteria, if that makes sense. I'm a planner, a list maker, a collector of worries and what-ifs, so for the next two weeks, I'm afraid I will be totally balls out crazy, even though I don't have any balls to get out! What? I don't know! When I get like this I just feel bad for everyone around me because I am in Planning Mode 24/7. Yes, that's right, even if I'm sleeping (HAHAHA AS IF I CAN SLEEP), I'm making To Do lists or something equally boring in my dreams. Which pisses me off, because who wants to waste dream time PLANNING? I don't. If you do, great, you can have my list-making dream. Throw me back into that dream I was having about Iron Man saving me from aliens, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

Anyway. I have a sneaking suspicion that I won't be sleeping well until we're in the new house. And even then, I won't sleep well until every last box is unpacked. Until then, I'll just continue waking up at 3 AM, sure I forgot to call someone or do something important and I won't be able to fall back to sleep and I'll lie there and get angrier and angrier at Joe, who never seems to have trouble sleeping, and I'll count the hours until I have to get up and then I will cry all the tears ever teared because I'M JUST. SO. TIRED.

So that'll be fun. At least I know all of you will be awake, too, and AS YOU MAY BE AWARE from, like, life and stuff, misery loves company so HELLO COMPANY I AM MISERY.

Here is a picture of a baby penguin:

LOOK AT ME I HAVE WINGS

She would like to go out with you for texting and scones.

Since I didn't get to babble about television last week and since one of my favorite things to babble about is television, I'm using this week's topic (Current Favorite WHATEVER) as an excuse to babble about my current favorite television shows. I don't know why I keep writing television instead of TV...what am I, fancy? I don't think so.

Also, I like to make lists. So here is a list of my current favorite TV shows and by current favorite, I mean shows currently airing even though my ACTUAL list of current favorite TV shows would include Mad Men and Friday Night Lights and whatnot but since those aren't ACTUALLY CURRENTLY AIRING, I left them off of my list, which I think makes this the first time I've never cheated at making lists and omg can you believe this sentence hasn't ended yet? 

Favorites!

1. Downton Abbey

I'm so excited this show is (almost) back. I watched the first season on Netflix Instant because Kat told me to and I watched it all in one weekend, probably putting off other important things I was supposed to be doing, like laundry and cleaning and showering, but it was worth it. 



2. Doctor Who

Although I'm not as emotionally invested in the travels of the 11th Doctor as I was in the 9th and 10th (I hardly ever cry until I can't see when I watch the Moffat-era episodes also I'm not the biggest fan of the River Song storyline YEAH I SAID IT), I'm still completely obsessed and feel very sad face that the latest season is over. I very much enjoy Matt Smith's antics and am looking forward to next season's Amy-and-Rory-less shenanigans. Still:

:(

That's me right now.

Also, Joe and I just had a long discussion about why we prefer Davies-era Who to Moffat-era Who but still like the Moffat episodes of Davies era Who the most and I thought about sharing all of it but didn't want to alienate everyone who has no idea what I'm talking about right now.




3. How I Met Your Mother

This show feels like I'm hanging out with my friends. Even when it's bad, I still find it comforting to watch. Sort of like Friends. I no longer give a shit who the mother is, only that Barney marries Robin and they have lots of scotch-loving babies.



4. Community

Community makes me happy in ways I can't describe. So I'm not going to try. When I watch Community, I feel like this: WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!




5. Parks & Recreation

I think Parks & Rec is a more consistent show than Community, and still I think I like Community more. On most days. On days after episodes like The Fight, Parks & Rec is my favorite shows of all the shows.



6. Fringe

We finally caught up on past seasons and are now watching the show live, which probably means it'll be cancelled soon. SORRY. That's just what happens. Much like How I Met Your Mother, even when I don't like what the show is doing (omg Bellivia wtf), I still enjoy watching it. (I also love The Soup.)



I've also been watching The Secret Circle, mostly because I double heart loved the books when I was but a wee tweenager. I tried watching Ringer (NO) and Revenge (VERY YES) but haven't watched any other new shows because those are the only ones TiVo recorded and I do what TiVo tells me. Duh.

When I forget about Guest Post week, I just make Joe write something at the last minute. I rule!

No, Kevin Spacey, I RULE.

TV Talk, with Joe Baxenwald

So, TV, then. Let’s talk about television. Cathode ray tubes and what-not. Invisible information traveling through space and time, beaming into a machine in your home, displaying pictures and creating sounds for one to see and/or hear. It sounds like science-fiction, does it not? Like some fantastical product of The World of Tomorrow?

Don’t be an idiot, it’s just TV. Pretty much everyone has one. A lot people have more than one. Some people have a TV in every room of their home, and a few people even have them in their bathrooms. I consider this to be overkill – partly because I have a TiVo and can thus pause television when I have to use the potty, but mostly because I don’t want to ever associate episodes of my favorite TV shows with going really bad twosies. For forty minutes. Because it just won’t stop.

Ahem.

The Fall television season is upon us, and with it a veritable legion of new shows to watch and discuss. I have a confession to make: I don’t care. Most of those new shows can stick it in their twosies-holes for all I care. Sure, there’s The New Girl, which we’ve watched the first episode of and enjoyed. There’s Revenge, which was fun, and I could see being very good depending on where it goes.

I’m interested in a few new shows, for various reasons. I’m curious about The Playboy Club and Pan-Am for the reason that I’m pretty sure the networks want me to be – they remind me of Mad Men. I haven’t watched either yet, but may get around to it. I’m also planning to watch Prime Suspect. I’ve not seen the original series, but I’ve heard nothing but good about that, and after the disappointment of The Killing (watched three episodes, was bored, gave up), I have high hopes for PS. Plus I hear that Maria Bello absolutely owns it, which is awesome. I also hear that the new Thundercats cartoon, which premiered recently and totally qualifies for this, is pretty awesome. I’ve got the first episode of that TiVo’ed as well.

But then there’s Ringer. Oh, poor, poor Ringer. Or, I should say, poor Buffy. Maybe she gets paid twice as much for playing two characters? How does that work? Does anyone know? That’s the only scenario in which I can see Sarah Michelle Gellar reading this script and thinking, ‘That’s great stuff, I can’t wait to do this.’

Heh heh.

So Ringer, The New Girl, and Revenge are the only new shows that we’ve watched. Sure, we watched the season premieres of How I Met Your Mother (steady), Modern Family (great), Community (fantastic), Parks & Recreation (also fantastic), The Office (best it’s been in a while), and Fringe (buh-waaaah?), but those aren’t new, they’re returning, and thus do not count. Although I love them all, so go watch them. Community, Parks & Rec, and Fringe are definitely Must-Watch TV.

There is one show that I really do want to watch at some point, though. It’s not new, but it is returning. It’s The Good Wife. I saw one episode of it during its first season, and I loved it, but I never came back to it because I didn’t start at the beginning. It has great people on it (Carol Hathaway, Detective Mike Logan, and Dan Rydell!), and several friends have told me that it’s really good. That’s one I want to watch sooner rather than later. I know, a CBS drama that I want to watch! The world must be ending. As long as it doesn’t end before I find out what’s going on with Peter Bishop on Fringe, I’m okay with it.

get your shit together

I feel like I've typed a million of these posts. You know the one. The "I'm going to cook more!" post. The one that turns into, "I love cooking!" that turns into "I haven't been cooking as much as I'd like," to "We've ordered pizza for dinner for the past six days!" to "My pants don't fit!" to "I'm going to cook more!"

It's a vicious cycle, is what I'm saying, and I'm stuck somewhere between "My pants don't fit!" and "I'm going to cook more!" only we're moving in a month so YEAH I'm probably not going to be cooking more for at least a month and a half. But I can try.

The first thing I do, before trying any recipe, is I Google the hell out of any and all variations of it because WHAT IF THERE IS A BETTER RECIPE OUT THERE. I have a problem, and the fact that practically all information EVER is at my fingertips is not helping. Eventually, I stop searching and decide on a recipe. Then I read it and Google anything I don't understand, like roux or braise. The Googling process can take a while. It's sort of like internet dating.

Anyway. Today! Today we are baking Pumpkin Whoopie Pies with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting. I know. Hold onto your butts. I was going to type the recipe for you but just click on that link instead, OK? Lazy.

Since I already picked out the recipe and I think I know what all of the instructions mean, the next step is to check the kitchen to see what ingredients I already have. Usually I have, oh, about none of them, so I have to go to the grocery store, which is one of my least favorite things to do on account of all the people there, all up in my business. The one thing I do like about going to the grocery is that I get to make a list.

Once I buy all of the ingredients, I head home and realize I'm too tired to cook anything because OMG YOU GUYS I WORK FOR A LIVING AND ALL I WANT TO DO WHEN I GET HOME IS WATCH RERUNS OF MAD MEN UNTIL IT'S TIME TO SLEEP.

Ahem. OK, this DOES sometimes happen, but usually I can shame myself into cooking by thinking about all the money I just spent and how the food might go bad if I don't cook it right then.

Time to start cooking! I learned from Kat that you should always start by getting your mise en place, which means "get your shit together," basically. I put all the ingredients on the counter (usually in the order I need them! nerd!), as well as any measuring spoons/cups I might need. Then I read the recipe like five times because it's usually at this point that I think I've forgotten something really important. But I don't think that I did this time. I guess we'll find out.

I made the frosting the night before the cookies because I can only handle so much cooking in one night. After I made the frosting, I had to restrain myself from taking a spoon and eating it all right then and there because it was SO GOOD. I mean, it's cream cheese, butter, a ton of powdered sugar, and MAPLE SYRUP, how could it NOT be good? I'm glad I made it early, though, because it was a bit runny and needed to be in the refrigerator to set, I think. Oh! If you do this, make sure to take the frosting out of the fridge so it can get to room temperature before you try and ice the cookies with it. Otherwise it'll be all hard and unspready (technical term). Although, I let mine get to room temperature and it was still too runny, so what do I know? Whatever, the first time you try a recipe, it doesn't count.

Time for the cookies! Wheeeeee! Actually, I'm not really sure they're cookies. They taste like muffin tops. But let's call them cookies because I'm not sure what else to call them.

After making the frosting, making the cookies shouldn't be all that hard, right? You just mix all the shit together that you didn't already mix together for frosting, bake it, and BOOM cookies. Midway through whisking all the shit together, I remembered that I have a super fancy stand mixer that I probably should have used but I was too busy pretending I was in Potions class so let's move on, shall we?

Don't be frightened if your batter looks like vomit.

Also midway through, I tried one of the cookies. This was a huge mistake because A) I hadn't eaten dinner yet and B) IT WAS DELICIOUS. So delicious that I wanted to eat the rest while I waited for more to bake AND I HADN'T EVEN ADDED FROSTING YET.

So after like a million hours, all of your cookies will be done. Let them cool and be careful not to burn yourself. If you're like me, when you do inevitably burn yourself, stick your fingers in the frosting that's still cool from the fridge. DOCTORED.

Burny. Except not really because these aren't cookied yet. BURN. YES. Nailed it.

The cookies will take what feels like forever to cool and you'll want to eat them all but DON'T. Or do. I don't care. It's your life. If you don't eat them, though, slap some frosting in between two of them, squish them together, and EAT THEM ALL LIKE YOU ARE THE COOKIE MONSTER. Or Whoopie Pie Monster. Whatever.

I meant to take a picture of the finished product but I forgot. This is why I leave the professional food blogging to Kat. Just go look at these pictures some more.



Recipe is from Brown Eyed Baker. All shitty pictures are from ME.

back to school, back to school, to prove to dad that I'm not a fool

  The other day, Joe and I were talking about career paths and whatnot and I asked if he'd ever considered becoming a teacher. Don't you think he'd be a great Kindergarten or first grade teacher? Wouldn't you have loved it if your Kindergarten teacher was a super-tall, bearded BFG with the most boisterous laugh in all the land?

I think I'm trying to bully him into becoming a teacher because although I enjoy the career I've stumbled into, when I was younger, I always wondered if I'd end up a teacher. I definitively decided against it once I started volunteering and realized how difficult it is to corral only four six-year-olds, let alone a class of like 25 of them. And for the whole day! Not just a couple of hours. That's a lot of time to not say any curse words.

Also, I'm afraid to go back to school as a teacher because I loved school so much as a student. Because, you guys. I LOVED SCHOOL. I was totally that kid you hated, the one who got 100% on every test (or, like, cried if she got a 97% WTF) and always volunteered to write things on the chalkboard and got to grade all of your papers with the ANSWER KEY (!) and who was basically a know-it-all-smarty-pants. I don't know what happened to that kid. I mean, I'm still a know-it-all-smarty-pants but I have even less to back it up now since I think my brain reached Learning Saturation a long time ago. But I digress. AS PER ALWAYS.

My favorite part about going back to school was finding out who my new teacher was going to be and who else was in my class. They'd always put the lists out a week or so before school started and I'd bug the shit out of my mom until she took me to look at it. I'm not sure why, exactly, I was so excited because it's not like I ever knew anything about many of the teachers. I think I was just always hoping for someone with a last name that started with an A to be in my class so I wouldn't always have to go first on presentations. 

My second favorite part about going back to school was SCHOOL SUPPLIES. Glorious school supplies. Pens and rulers and new folders and notebooks and YOU GUYS MAYBE EVEN A TRAPPER KEEPER. I don't wanna wait for my trapper keeper to be over! Ooh! And best yet! NEW CRAYONS. I remember this one year, they'd just come out with (I think) the 64 count crayon box with A CRAYON SHARPENER ATTACHED TO THE BOX. So you could sharpen your crayons and they'd be like new all the time! WHAT KIND OF AWESOME SORCERY IS THAT?! I somehow convinced my mom to get it for me, probably because I told her I needed it to live or something. Also, probably because my dad wasn't there.

Did your dad ever used to give you the Want vs. Need speech? Like, whenever my sister or I said we needed something, he'd be all, "do you want it or do you need it?" and I'd be like, "yes, dad, I need this penicillin to live," JK it was more like, "yes, dad, I need this Saved by the Bell game TO LIVE." My point is, do they still make Trapper Keepers? Because I need one. No, I don't want one, DAD. I need one.

From henceforth, you shall be known as Big Haircut.

When I was eight or nine, I decided my bangs were too long. I'm sure I mentioned to to my mom, and she either told me my bangs were fine or that she'd trim them or, you know, maybe I should just shut my face because did I think haircuts grew on trees? Because they don't.

Instead of waiting for help or for my next haircut, I figured I should cut my own bangs. How hard could it be, really? It's not like I was cutting the hair on the back of my head THAT WOULD BE CRAZY.

I decided to cut my bangs the next time I washed my hair, while my hair was still wet. I used scissors that I grabbed from the junk drawer. I stood on my tip-toes in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to steady my arm against the sink. I pulled my (wet, remember?) bangs tight against my forehead and cut them in one giant chop.

The problem was...well, ONE of the problems was that I cut them at the length I wanted them while they were wet AND stretched down as far as they could go. I'm sure you can see where this is going because you're all smarter than I am.

Once my bangs dried, they ended up shorter than I'd intended. A lot shorter. Like Rooney-Mara-as-Lisbeth-Salander short. But my super short bangs didn't dry straight or flat or anything, because my hair is wavy and dries wavy but not pretty wavy, more like frizzy wavy, so when my bangs dried, they pretty much stood up straight like they were trying to escape from my head. Sort of like this:

I've been terrified of bangs ever since. No fringe on top for me, no thank you.

You've got red on you.

I love scaring myself. I used to go to haunted houses/trails/hayrides every Halloween-season and I will watch scary movies, in the dark, at night, even when I'm home all alone because I'M A SICK SICK PERSON. It's probably because I started reading Stephen King when I was 12 (IT). That would do it.

My most favorite scary movies aren't even that gory, aside from zombie movies, of course, which are just a bad idea to watch ever but least of all late at night and yet when do I watch zombie movies? Late at night. And then I walk Max through our quiet neighborhood, squinting at shadows and plotting my escape should a pack of braineaters come running straight at me. Thank you, zombie movies and The Walking Dead, for fueling my waking nightmares.

When I was but a wee child, I was terrified of gremlins of any kind, whether they were supposed to be funny or crawled into your room through your wall at night to steal your breath or escaped from hell from a hole in your backyard. I was convinced that they lived under my bed and would jump out and attack me as soon as I fell asleep, or that they'd grab my feet should I step on the floor too close to the bed.

So I've traded gremlins for zombies which seems like a more realistic fear because I DON'T CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS, zombies could happen, rage or otherwise.

I can remember the specific times I first saw my most memorable scary movies. Where I was. Who was with me. Etcetera etcetera. 

1. Scream

This came out when I was in high school, I think, and my friend Erica (daughter of my dad's BFF) and I used to watch it over and over whenever my parents would take us to visit her parents. Her brother Joe would then dress up in his Scream costume and terrify my sister. One time she called 911 but I think it was unrelated.

2. Shaun of the Dead

OK, so this one isn't scary but it's my favorite zombie movie. I watched this at my parents' house while house-sitting one weekend, right after watching Open Water, and that night I had dreams about zombie sharks.

3. The Mothman Prophecies

I watched this alone, at night, in my parents' basement with all of the lights turned off. I haven't seen it since but I remember it filling me with an overwhelming sense of unease so I turned all the lights on halfway through the movie.

4. 28 Days Later

I watched this in college with some friends, all of us crammed into our small apartment's living room. It was a cool spring evening and the only reason I mention the weather is because, since it was so nice out, we had our screen door open. A good ways into the movie, after all of us shrieking and jumping at several points, one of my roommates returned home, bursting through the screen door and causing all of us to pee our pants because we thought maybe she was a zombie. 

5. The Strangers

I think I've documented this before but Heidi and I went to see this movie primarily so we could partake in the movie theater's legendary 123Go boxes, which were glorified happy meals (you got a small popcorn, candy, and an icee for like five dollars! It doesn't exist anymore). THIS IS THE MOST TERRIFYING MOVIE EVER. Heidi spent most of it watching it through her fingers or hiding her face but I was too afraid to take my eyes off the screen because WHAT IF THEY JUMPED INTO THE THEATER AND KILLED US.

6. Zodiac

You guys. This entire case scares the shit out of me because it's still unresolved. I watched this with Joe and didn't sleep all night, sure that the Zodiac killer was going to burst into the apartment and kill us both. You know what else I don't recommend? Reading the book right before bed.

7. Let the Right One In

I watched this with Joe, at night obviously, and am now scared of small children because WHAT IF THEY'RE VAMPIRES. Spoilers.

8. Pet Sematary

I watched this for the first time with my friend Erica (see Scream above) at her parents' house, which was a big house out in the country, and I was convinced that a zombie cat or child could crawl out of the woods at any moment. Also, WTF was up with Zelda? She gave me nightmares. See THIS for further reading.

9. The Mist

I saw this with Heidi in the cheap theater. I spent most of the movie crawling out of my skin and wanting to punch Marsha Gay Harden's character in the face and then the end came and I wanted to kill myself.

10. The Shining

Jesus. I watched this one in my parents' basement, alone, AGAIN with the lights turned off, and when I finished watching it, I went upstairs to find a bunch of weird bugs crawling all over the foyer floor.


Stephen King should really get his own category and it should probably be called: Why Jennie Is Like This.

Anyway, if you have any scary movie suggestions, I would love to hear them in case I feel like not sleeping some night. 

If I were a crayon, I'd be green with envy because DID YOU READ KAT'S POST YESTERDAY? I can't compete with that. So here's this intead.

 

"What are you eating?"

"Crayons."

"Why?"

"Hungry."

"What's this one taste like?"

"Purple Heart? Tastes like grape soda."

"Interesting. And this one?"

"Hmm, Neon Carrot. Doesn't taste like carrots, if that's what you were wondering. Tastes more like an orange."

"That's boring."

"YOU'RE boring."

"Anyway. How about this one? Salmon?"

"Ech, tastes like salmon. Raw salmon."

"How do you know what raw salmon tastes like?"

"Oh, once I pretended to be a bear."

"Sure."

"What about Cerulean?"

"Tastes like a gentle breeze."

"Brick red?"

"Chili."

"Piggy Pink?"

"Bacon."

"Midnight Blue?"

"The ocean. At night."

"Beaver?"

"Heh."

"Never mind. What about Fuzzy Wuzzy?"

"Vomit. It tastes like vomit. I'm gonna be sick."

"Ooh, a rainbow!"

What's not to like? Custard, GOOD, jam, GOOD, meat, GOOOOD!

I've tried Heather's best ever sandwich and want to try Abigail's best ever sandwich and I would choke someone to try Kat's best ever sandwich RIGHT THE HELL NOW because my favorite sandwiches are sandwiches with chips on them. Not only British chips but potato chips. When I was little, I watched my mom put potato chips on her sandwich and it was like a whole new world had opened in front of me. So now, when the opportunity presents itself, I put potato chips on my sandwich. I put them on turkey sandwiches. I put them on my PB&J. Sandwiches and chips go together like peas and carrots except way better because, gross, Forrest Gump, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. Yeah, I'm referencing Forrest Gump in 2011, WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT? You wanna know why I'm so angry? Because I haven't had a sandwich with chips on it in FOREVER and by forever, I mean like two months.

We ate a lot of delicious food when we were at the beach this past summer, seafood and otherwise, but my favorite meal was at a dive bar where we drank Yuengling out of cans and threw peanut shells on the floor, because they served cheeseburgers with DORITOS on them. I mean, COME ON.

I'm not very fancy. I scraped the foie gras off of my steak one night at dinner when we on our honeymoon, and not just because I was drunk and it was making me gag a little (CLASSY!) but because GROSS. Anyway, it turns out all I need to be happy (food-wise) is a cheeseburger topped with jalapenos, guacamole, and Doritos. And all I need to make the perfect sandwich is a bag of chips. Preferably BBQ.

"Thanks to Toby I have a very strong prejudice against Human Resources. I believe that the department is a breeding ground for monsters. What I failed to consider though, is that not all monsters are bad. Like ET."

Before I started my new job, I found out that my new boss had found my blog. YOU GUYS. I freaked out. Words I'd written, all the ridiculous ridiculous words, flew through my head and, as I thought of all those times I'd talked about poop or drinking or all those inappropriate jokes I'd made, I started to hyperventilate a little. OK, not really but YOU GUYS HOLY CRAP.

But you know what? It didn't even matter. You know why? Because now I work in THE THEATAH (sort of, I mean, I'm not onstage or anything). BUT WHATEVER, no one gives a shit that I write stupid crap on the internet.

Tomorrow I wrap up my first week at my new job and I keep waiting for this giddy feeling to go away. From the moment I walk into my office until I force myself to leave, I'm pretty sure I wander around with a stupid grin on my face ALL DAY LONG. I'm sure that, in time, that newness will fade and there will obviously be hard days but this week I learned that my job doesn't have to make me miserable all the time. I'M ALLOWED TO BE HAPPY AT WORK. WHAT.

I also learned that they play showtunes in the parking garage ALL THE TIME. And that the in-house restaurant makes the best tomato bisque I've ever had. And that no one cares if you wear your Chuck Taylors to work. And that I need a map of the buildings or something or I'm going to get lost in the (haunted) basement one of these days.

clear eyes, full hearts

There are some TV shows, some movies, some books, that, when I watch or read them, I feel like I'm hanging out with friends. This is the only explanation I can give for how ridiculously sad I get when the show (book, movie, whatever) is over. I grow attached to these people like they're my BFFs, so when the series finale ends, when Harry, Hermione, and Ron are done fighting and have settled into peaceful, normal lives, when all the Losties are sitting in Heaven's Waiting Room or whatever, I miss them. Like they're real people. I know it's unhealthy, but it works for me, so shut up.

I also have this feeling that, even though the show or book is over, all of my old friends are hanging out without me. They're having adventures and I'm not a part of them. Mostly I'm just nosy and want to know what's going on with everyone always.

This week's topic is "what's the last movie/TV show/book that made you tear up" and I hesitate to even write about this show because Friday Night Lights doesn't just make me tear up, it makes me cry like someone punched me in the grief bone. Just thinking about the show makes my heart all hurty.

I resisted watching Friday Night Lights for a long time, not because I thought it wouldn't be good (Pajiba has been singing the show's praises for years and I trust them like Dumbledore trusts Harry (what?)) but because I didn't think it would be my thing. It's about football YAWN WHO CARES? But when I lost my job, I suddenly had all of this extra time, and since there are only so many hours a day you can job search, I decided to invest some time in Friday Night Lights. You guys! It's not really just about football. It's about Coach and Tami Taylor and Jason Street and Matt Saracen and marriage and parents and death and school and LIFE. It took approximately 1.5 episodes for me to become terribly annoying about this show, and by that I mean that I would regale Joe with episode summaries and spend half an hour after each episode repeating, "this show is so good...omg...I love this show...so good," until Joe passed out from boredom.

I finished the fifth and final season yesterday and I think I'd be more upset about it had I not recently bullied Joe into watching the show with me (from the beginning)...mostly just because I wanted to watch it all again.

(teensy) SPOILER ALERT

I won't say much about the series finale, because I have no idea if everyone has seen it yet (the way it aired was crazy stupid, I watched it all on Netflix and DVD), but I will say that I cried through almost all of it. Nothing that sad happened, no one died (you guys, I was so worried that they'd kill Grandma Saracen), but I'd grown so attached to all of these characters (Tim Riggins!) that knowing this was the last I'd see of them made me weep into my Cheerios. Because yes, I watched the finale while eating breakfast. Crying while you're trying to eat is totally weird, FYI.

I don't know what else to say about it. Just...just watch it, OK, so I'm not the only one sobbing in front of the TV. 

find your happy thought

When I was little, I really thought that, if only I found the right combination of practice and magic, I could fly.

I suppose I still believe that, just a little, which is why sometimes I close my eyes and think happy thoughts, or hold my open umbrella as high in the air as possible, hoping a strong wind will carry me away. No luck yet, but I'll let you know if it changes.

Happy Saturday!