blah, blah, blah

[this post is coming at you from behind enemy lines. i am such a rebel. i know, right?]

so here i am, at work, on a sunday morning. dude, that's just not right. doing anything other than being lazy is just. not. right. but that's okay. i made my statement by being an hour late. and really, it wasn't even on purpose, i completely overslept and woke up at 7am on the nose. which was exactly when i was supposed to be at work.

whoops.

but i'm here and i'm getting shit done. which is more than i can say for half my team, because apparently it is the norm to not even show up for your weekend shifts. how do people keep from getting fired for that? not that i'm planning on not showing up for work or anything, i'm just curious. i have to admit, i kind of like my job. it's a good mix of being nice and being a total outright bitch. which, as was pointed out to me yesterday in the kindest way possible, i'm sort of good at. so it makes sense for me to like what i'm doing.

but the main reason that i like what i'm doing is because i really like the people i work with. they keep me awake, keep me from drooling on my keyboard, keep me entertained, keep me on my guard - because if you're not paying attention around here, it's likely that you'll get smacked in the face with a giant beach ball. and these bizzos are not playing games, they're playing for skins, chillens. oh yes. the beach ball game is vicious. and they all know by now that my reflexes are far from cat-like so i'm kind of picked on. a lot. but whatever. there are newbies joining us next week and then i'm not so new and i get to start picking on people, which we all know i'm really good at.

shut up and go get me some water.

that was a joke.

don't go. come back. i didn't mean it.

so anyway. what else?

the bee and i went to the horse races last night. um, does anyone here know how to bet on a horse race? yeah, me neither. we were both so completely confused we just said fuck it, we'll come back with someone with some knowledge and then make our millions. so we're going to go hit up the gambler's anonymous meetings this week and find our bookie.

kidding.

and then we drove to iowa city and had pizza. it was awesome. except we left the pizza in the car overnight and now the car smells like garlic and tomatoes, which is *not* awesome, even though i like garlic and i like tomatoes, i just don't like smelling like a big italian grandma holding 14 pounds of sausage. not my favorite thing to smell like in the morning. or anytime really, because smelling like an old italian lady holding sausage prolly doesn't bring the boys a running. or maybe it does, shit, i don't know.

don't listen to me, i have no idea what i'm talking about.

so yeah, the other night we drove by a 24/365 fitness. it was closed.

true story.

my dog is a jerk. we're bell training him, right? we've got a bell hung around the doorknob in the apartment. so when we first brought him home, we'd tap his paw to the bell, say, "outside!" and take him outside to do his business. (puppy business is the piddles, because piddles in the house are no fun. puppy business does not include any of the following: briefcases, associates, dark sunglasses, angeldust, goombas, cell phones or 9mms. i just thought i'd clear that up for you.) so now, after just a week, puppy has learned to ring the bell on his own, letting us know when he wants to go outside - its a modern version of pavlov's experiment, right? it's actually pretty cool. except freaking puppy is ringing the freaking bell every 43 seconds and if i had nuts, that would suck them in an extremely non-pleasurable fashion.

for real.

because you and i both know that i L.O.V.E. going up and down the stairs 57 times a day so puppy can bite my ankles while standing in the grass in the yard of the apartment complex. it's neat fun.

but i shouldn't be so negative. in all actuality, he's doing rather well. he seriously rings the bell when he wants to go outside and 75 percent of the time he does his business. although i tend to think that puppies can do business on command but the point is that he's learning how to let us know that he needs/wants to go outside and that's pretty cool for such a young puppy - he's not even 10 weeks old.

now as far as the bell training, let me tell you - it works on humans too. because there is a team that is ringing a bell everytime a payment is received here at work. and everytime that g.d. bell rings, i have to stop myself from jumping out of my chair to let puppy outside. yeah, no joke. i'm no better than a drooling, yipping, piddling puppy, trained to respond to a 3$ bell toy.

yup, i'm that easy.

today i'm going to learn how to make sweet tea. i'm now addicted to sweet tea. which is no better for me than soda but its cheaper so in my mind that makes all the difference. but you can't just say "sweet tea," you've got to southern-ize it and draw it out over like 6 minutes, "sweeeeeeet tee-eee-eee-eee-ea" like they do in the south, otherwise it just doesn't taste the same.

and with that, i'm out.

no more grazing on the cubicle farm

upon taking this job at giant corporate conglomate company, i was moderately shocked at the size of some of the people that work there. we're talking about some big people. now before you get your panties all wadded, understand that i'm no size 2 talking about size 8's here. i'm not going to tell you what size i am, but it's about average anymore, and we're talking about womba women (and men) that are rocking those cubicles on a daily basis.

no literally rocking them when they get up and sit down because they have to in order to get in and out. seriously. these are big people. big. large. big mc large huge.

and at first i wondered if they weren't spiking the water out there on the cubicle farm but as it turns out there is just a lot of free time for food. and they provide a lot of food. because generally food makes people happy. and free food makes people even happier. (myself included.) supervisors keep drawers of candies and chocolates and what-have-you's in preparation for the next breakdown or meltdown or shootdown or whatever happens next. and so when our mouths aren't moving from talking, they're moving from eating.

the point is in all of this is that i'm eating all the damn time now. and it's pissing me off. so i'm implementing a "no food" rule in my cubicle. (you have no idea how much i hate admitting that i have a cubicle, it's ganking with my chi in an uberly-uncool way. and why we're talking about cubicles, why are they all that boring shade of grey? who decided that grey was the one color that made people more productive and less homicidal, really? because it's giving me a g.d. headache after about 45 minutes every day. i'm making it my new goal to wallpaper my cubicle, which is from now on going to be referred to as my "domain" in my new super sticky (and also super expensive, but that's a topic for another day) neon post it notes because i would rather look at neon blue, orange, green and yellow than boring fucking neutral grey. hallelujah. holy shit. where's the tylenol?!) fuck. anyway. no food in the cubicle, er, domain. that's the new rule.

so if you read this and you work with me and you happen to see me eating while in ruling in my domain, come over and kick my ass in a corporate-ly correct way.

one thing that i think will help with this "too much food" problem i'm having currently is the acquisition of a new pet this week. (i'm so excited about this, you have no idea. unless, again, you happen to work with me and sit around me and then you know that i've been talking about nothing else since sunday.) this friday, the bee and i are picking up our new puppy.

woohoo!

this is not our puppy. i wasn't smart enough to think of taking pictures of our puppy when i had the chance. but our puppy looks like this. only way more cuter.

i can't even begin to tell you how excited i am for this. our puppy is a boxer and his name will be kingsley. and he is so adorable and sweet and has the cutest disposition - i'm in love with this dog, i tell you. we met the breeder last weekend and hung out for a while, playing with the pups and the parents and they are the coolest dogs in the entire world. they honestly think they're lap dogs but they weigh about 70 pounds. they're awesome. i can't wait to go pick him up. :)

so how does this help resolve my current food problem? well, for one, dogs eat a lot of food. so more for him, less for me. no, i'm kidding. the puppy will need to be walked and go outside which is something that i'm not currently doing a lot of, even though the weather is nice. so a puppy will help me achieve some of my goals too. plus puppies are just fun. i am so, so looking forward to this little guy coming home this weekend. :D

so other than the whole work sucks thing, the grey fucking domain thing, and the fact that some dutch asshole keyed my car last weekend during the holy event they call tulip time, life is good. well, i'm allergic to the new laundry soap we bought (and we bought like 7 gallons of it, so it's going to be around for awhile) so i get to slather on a layer of cortaid under my lotion in the morning. i think the two counteract each other because i still itch like a motherfucker all freaking day, no joke. that sort of sucks. but the laundry soap was on sale and that's all that matters, right?

it was supposed to rain last night and i was so looking forward to that because we have giant kamikaze birds living in the trees surrounding the apartment. these birds poop dinner plate size poops and they look so not awesome on my dark blue car, that's been fun lately. anyway, i thought it was going to rain so i avoided washing the car all week in anticipation of the mega-storm that was a-brewing. fucking weather channel. now i'll never take jim cantore's name in vain (sigh... )but i know they have the tools to provide accurate and responsible weather forecasts, the bastards. apparently now they're in cahoots with the carwash places (and the grocery stores, my mom says, because the weather channel gets kickbacks on all the toilet paper and milk and bread they sell in blizzards) and i'm still driving around with pizza-size bird shit on my car. awesome.

no plans tonight. i don't like to talk much anymore, since that's pretty much all i do at work. it's got the bee all freaked out, he always thinks i'm mad. but it makes him a little nicer sometimes and i'm all for that. so now i'm just quiet all the time and i find i get what i want with far less resistance. :D anyway. he's off at some union meeting and i'm going to go eat a box of cookies i would have eaten in my domain and finish a bottle of wine (that i wouldn't have finished in my domain but i'd sure like to try finishing while in my domain sometime. i honestly don't think anyone would notice. except maybe the bizzo in the domain across from mine and only then because i wouldn't be sharing and she'd be pissed.) and watch harold and maude.

it's good to be the janel.

where's my ukelele?

oh, blog! oh how i've missed you! and it's not like i haven't sat down, laptop in front of me with the intention to write. i have. but it seems like there's always some sort of distraction. like the bee. he can be a serious distraction. or food, because generally i come to panera and the food is extremely distracting. or the bathroom, because when i get online at the library i'm always interrupted by my own bladder, because every time i go to the library i always have to pee. seriously. every time, ever since i was a little kid, that i go to the library, i always have to go to the bathroom. it's like a subconscious thing. library = urinate. i have no idea what that means.

so how are things in your life? yeah? good. great.

okay. so yeah. still at the giant corporate conglomeration, chained to the desk for 8 hours a day. let me tell you, if i had nuts, this job would suck 'em and not in any sort of pleasurable fashion, my friends. this job sucks nuts bad. but i'm persevering. i'm conquering. one day i'm going to walk in there and lead the revolution and flip that place on its motherfucking head all che guevara style (only without the communism, because i don't dig communism on general principle) and show the stagecoach how it's done because that's how i roll.

or not. i may just stay a sheep for the next 330 days until i can put in for a transfer to a department that appreciates my creativity and intelligence and all the awesome things i do awesomely.

baa.

so i'm supposed to be in pella at the moment, dishing ice cream among the wooden-shoed (is that a word?) tulip klompers (i know that's not a word but they actually have an event called the klompen klassic. no, i'm serious. go look it up.) except actually klomping a tulip in the city of pella is a crime punishable by death, or at least public flogging like that dude in thailand a few years ago (remember him? wasn't he australian or something, dealing drugs or vandalizing or jaywalking in thailand and his punishment was a public flogging while wearing a clown suit or some similar shit, i don't remember the specifics. you have a computer, obviously. don't be lazy, google that shit, fool!) anyway, i'm talking here. harming a tulip during the almighty tulip festival is seriously punishable in the city of pella - and especially during tulip time. you are allowed to look at the tulips, admire the tulips, carefully smell the tulips - but attempt to touch the tulips and there are dutch costumed tulip bodyguards waiting to take your flower assaulting ass out man.

you think i'm kidding. come to pella. try to pick a tulip. i dare you.

anyway. i'm supposed to be there, serving ice cream with a smile. and i would be there, except i got the call that said, "don't bother, it's rainy and cold and nasty and people are leaving and we don't want you here." and i said "right on." because i don't want to drive that far anyway. because serving ice cream in a potential tornado is not a lot of fun. thunderstorms and lightning and tornadoes make the kiddies cry and crying kiddies don't enjoy ice cream.

do you rent movies? we rent a lot of movies. the bee and i are blockbuster regulars. they know us by name, especially since the manager (i think her name is tina) has to call me about once a week to tell me i'm a retard and returned an empty dvd case. ("hi janelle. this is tina from blockbuster on merle hay and you did it again..." yeah, for real. that's all she says.) but they know that we're a sucker for any new program they have. blockbuster rewards? got it. blockbuster movie pass? got it. can you use it together? not really. were either of them free? oh hell no. we spend an ungodly amount of money at blockbuster; those people definitely have our number. but it's cheaper than drinking and my head doesn't hurt in the morning so it can't be all bad. but the bee's taste in movies runs on the horror-slasher-cheeser genre and that hurts my head but whatever. it's opened me up to a whole new world of movie viewing, one where blood gushes from open wounds like water from a fire hose, true story. it's fascinating and horrific all at once.

and with that, i think i'm going to sign off and go investigate other online things i've been ignoring lately. i'm out of stuff to write about and my head sort of hurts from too much soda and chocolate. ugh. peace out ninjas.

my keyboard smells like donuts

i'm still in training. and as was so sweetly pointed out to me, i'm always in some sort of training. i know. i have the best intentions when acception a job (which we are not pronouncing "hob" today, by the way) but i always end up getting bored and quitting or getting fired for some asinine reason that i can generally explain away to everyone except my boss. but whatever. the point is that i'm always, always in training and rarely actually doing a job.

i get this. i'm okay with it. i'm good at a lot of things and really interested in none of them, truth be told. i like to think it's an affliction of the gifted but i know that it's probably more of an attitude problem than anything else. whatever. you're not the boss of me!

so i'm sitting in training for this job (not "hob") that i've taken with this giant conglomerate corporation, listening to my trainer drone on and on and on. this is boring shit folks. because i now work in the financial services industry and this is funny for two reasons.

one - i am a fiscal retard. no, seriously. i'm a complusive spender (self diagnosed) - if i have 10$, i'm going to spend 20$. and if i have a credit card, i'm going to charge as much as i can. i know it's wrong but i can't help it. no seriously, i can't stop myself. i like the smell of retail. i like the smell of new things. i know i don't need them, but i like the idea of having new things - like six matching pairs of shoes or three new pairs of matching jeans. and i'm not a walmart shopper. oh hell no. we're talking top end shit. i don't know when i got so expensive, but it happened. i am cultivated. which is actually kind of funny, too, because i'm all jeans and t-shirts and tattoos and ponytails and 1000$ purses and 50$ underpants. wtf is that all about? there's got to be a therapy for that...

not that i still have 1000$ purses or 50$ underpants. i sold them on ebay ages ago. yeah, you can sell used underpants on ebay. somedays, it is just like a garage sale. except you don't call them used, you say words like "delicate" and "gently" but us hardcore ebay shoppers know the truth: those are somebody elses dirty grundies you are snapping up there, biznatches and that is wrong. now don't yell at me, because it's all about supply and demand, and i am just satisfying the demand of the general public - i can't help it if that demand is for a supply of pre-owned underwear. i can't help it if the general public has a fetish for pre-worn underpants. i'm just the messenger here. i don't write the news, i just report it. my god, i sound like a criminal.

what in the hell was i talking about? oh. right.

two: i haven't balanced my checkbook in probably four years. i'm not kidding here. i wouldn't even know where to start. i mean, i know how - in fact, i used to also do this compulsively. (i used to be compulsive about a lot of things: clean countertops, laundry, floors, dust, paying bills, blah, blah, blah...) but now i've become one of those people that reads atm receipts and takes them as gospel, in spite of what my mom and my high school business teacher have repeatedly told me (and that is DON'T do that, it's never right and you'll pay out the ass in overdraft fees. and they're right. i could have a lot of dollars if i had all those overdraft fees back but that's a whole different story.)

where in the fuck was i going with this?

right. training. so i'm sitting in training, trying really hard not to fall asleep, which has been nearly impossible the last couple days. (i don't know why, but i can't get out of bed in the morning.) and my trainer is going over and over all these little industry acronyms and abbreviations and suddenly i hear it: RFD. and i'm instantly transported to 10th grade history class and mr. bailey, who i am still convinced smoked a bowl with our school's biggest potheads on lunch every single day. evidence? dude had mad amounts of visine in his desk drawer for the crazy red eyes he had every afternoon (and yes, sadly, i was in his desk drawer for one reason or another, i don't remember the specifics, but i was coined a "bad kid" back in the dizzay), he had oddly close relationships with some suspect students, and he had an interesting affinity for original trident gum. (not exactly evidence pointing to a pothead, but still pretty freaking weird. original? who in the world chews original? that shit was nasty.) anyway. i'm off track.

i hear RFD. i'm thinking back to 10th grade, when life was easier (at least in comparison to life now, because i was all about the drama and creating it back then). i'm thinking mr. bailey. sitting in that god awful classroom on the second floor of the old high school building in front of patrick mc farland, and being tested on franklin d. roosevelt's new deal. remember the new deal? i'm not going to cover all of it, because frankly (LOL! no pun intended!) history's not my bag, but if you want to read up, go here.

god, this is taking forever. it's almost as painful as traning class. i'm putting myself to sleep here.

anyway. 10th grade history. FDR. the new deal. part of the new deal was RFD. and i'm being tested on this. history wasn't my bag back then either, but i suffered through it. not so well on this particular exam though. i'm asked to define certain acronyms, parts of the new deal. easy right? not for this moron on that day...

"RFD: really fast dog"

yeah, no. that jackass of a teacher of mine read that shit in front of the class to make an example of me and apparently what not to do. however, i'll never forget that rural free delivery was part of FDR's new deal, even if dogs, no matter how really fast or not, were not involved.

this, folks, is how i'm getting through training. because if i don't keep myself entertained with stories and anecdotes and poems and songs and doodles and illegal text messages and pictures and multiple bathroom trips and water trips and counting the minutes until break and lunch and break and time to go home, i will seriously keel over and die of boredom.

that's how bad it is. all for a job (not "hob") that will pay the bills (because i do have to pay the bills, it's not cool to not pay the bills, i've decided) and keep the electricity on (because i've decided i do like electricity, it's kind of handy).

there are some upsides. if i decide to rejoin chubby kids (did i mention i'm a chubby kids dropout? i know, right? i suck.), they'll pay for some of it. and the benefits are pretty good. and i can wear jeans to work, which i totally dig. it's only 10 minutes away and parking is free, which is rockin. plus, they have an ice machine that's like the ice machine at quik trip - it spits out neat-o little teeny-weeny ice nuggets as opposed to big honkin' ice cubes, and that's the cat's pajamas. i dig little ice cubes because they don't hurt my teeth and you can spit them at the cubicle across the hall with little to no effort. and i do like things that require little to no effort.

but as far as other upsides, i haven't found any yet. i got company email today but was strongly advised not to ever use it so as not to gain any compliance violations so i won't be fired. wtf? give me a toy, then take it away...

it's really nice but it's tornado windy outside. my hair doesn't approve of this weather but no one asked my permission. i'm dealing but i'm not thrilled.

i can't remember to update my nascar picks but somehow i'm still number one.

i. am. number one.

libbeth had the baby. isla grace. she's beautiful. i love her. (and i don't even know her, lol!) i'm trying really hard not to be jealous.

speaking of that (not libbeth, but babies in general), being with the bee has like reopened a whole new grieving period for me. that sort of sucks. it's like all these emotions that i've already had - that i was supposed to be having with him except he wasn't around when i needed him - are coming back and not in any sort of modest manner. i'm trying really hard not to resent him or be angry but that's a hard feeling to shelve, you know? sometimes i wonder if i'll be able to do that long term... but things in our little world are going well. we're getting along well. any spats that we've had we've talked through - logically and calmly and like adults, if you can believe it.

chinese for dinner tonight. we're getting to know the delivery guy pretty well. we may even have to give him a christmas card except now that i write that, i'm not sure that chinese people celebrate christmas and giving him a christmas card might be really awkward and i don't want him to spit in my food or think i'm a big dumb dummy for not knowing what he celebrates. i don't know. maybe i'll get him a target giftcard or something for being so timely and awesome. or maybe i won't do anything and we'll just continue to have this weird silent relationship: me, the food orderer and him, the food deliverer. that's probably how it'll go. i'm down with that. i don't want him to think we're going to invite him in for a three-way or something bizarro like that.

i cleaned out the fishtank, which hadn't been cleaned for like a decade or some shit like that and now i think that fluffy is sick. doesn't that just figure? but the tank looks awesome. it's never been so clean.

okay. so i'm going to go home now. i'm surrounded by 5th graders that are pretending to be 15 years old on myspace. somebody call dateline. i smell a setup.

[janel will insert catchy title here. when she thinks of it.]

i can't tell if it's raining or snowing. it's snaining. or maybe its rowing. hmm...

i only have a few days of freedom left before the giant corporate conglomerate starts chaining me to a desk and slowly sucking the life out of me on a daily basis, allowing me just a few hours each evening to regenerate enough life fluid to survive. how i adore the banalities of corporate america. it makes me wonder why i have a degree in what i have a degree in, anyway, considering how much i hate "the man" and what "he" stands for.

damn the man. what the fuck was i thinking? i should have been an art major (except i flunked art history 101, baby!) or a history major (but the history channel puts me to sleep) so maybe i just should have skipped college all together and saved myself the money and stress. whatever. it's a little late to decide that now. it's not like i can return my degree.

"hi, i'm not happy with decision or with this debt load. i'd like to return this degree on the grounds that it has been unsatisfactory for me and that i didn't really pay a whole hell a lot of attention anyway. i mean, really, let's not fool ourselves here - you and i both know that i only attended class on days that were absolutely necessary and sometimes not even then. yeah. check that shit. i'll wait. yeah, seriously, what were you thinking, letting me graduate? i'm not a very good representative of your school. you should take this shit away on general principle alone, man. no, my feelings aren't hurt. well, maybe a little. now what am i going to tell people i've been doing for the last 8 years of my life? fuck. well, that's my problem, not yours. okay, yeah, so can i get a receipt for this? awesome..."

that's so not going to happen.

today was therapy day. no one cried, no one yelled or screamed or made an ass out of themselves. i didn't have to drag him in and he didn't run out midsession - i consider that a personal victory. i think we both learned a little bit about each other - our emotional needs and how we think the other is fulfilling them. some of the discussion was interesting, it got a little tense in a couple spots, but nothing we couldn't talk our way out of. and i don't think he completely disliked my therapist but he wasn't completely comfortable with her, either. normal i guess - who wants to talk about their sex life in front of a total stranger? i can't blame him for that. but we'll see if we apply what we've learned to every day life, that's the hard part. i'll keep you posted.

i have stuff on ebay. did i tell you that? i have a few things to ship so after i leave panera i have to go to the post office. in the snow. i hate snow. actually i don't hate snow i just hate snow in april. because i've already started wearing slippas and once i start wearing slippas i can't stop wearing slippas because then i feel like a poser and who wants to feel like a poser?

i'm just rambling here, because i have nothing else to do today. if i go home, i'll want to read a book and i'm not starting any more books until i finish pride and prejudice and i may just hang myself from the shower curtain rod before i actually finish that freaking nightmare. ugh. what in the world was i thinking? i have all these books i want to read and this one book that's holding me up. although, now that i have found the footnotes it's going a little bit faster. and who in the world puts all the footnotes at the END of the book? that's just dumb. that's upsetting me greatly.

i have to go play fantasy nascar now. i have a first place lead to extend.

the snow is starting to stick. yuckity yuck yuck yuck....

i need a new perspective.

i think today is wednesday. my days are running together. my days have been running together for the last four months, if you want to know the truth, whether i'm here or there or on the eastern seaboard or where the fuck ever. i generally know the date, because my phone always tells me the date, but it doesn't tell me what day it is. so i can always tell you the date, i just can't tell you if its tuesday or saturday and sometimes that gets to be a problem. but not very often because i rarely have to be out of bed before 10am or have anything to all day everyday.

do i sound frustrated?

i guess i am. i'm not sure why. i'm actually pretty good at being unemployed; more so than the average bear. but this time around it's starting to grate on my nerves. money is an issue for me right now. it's more of a lack of money than anything else. i have bills that are due and no money to pay them. i get up in the morning and listen for the fish tank to see if the electricity is still on and if the apartment is still warm. one of these days the bee is going to be late for work because the alarm won't go off because they're going to shut my phone off because i haven't paid the bill in forever. things like that. i did pay the rent yesterday; that took just about everything i had in my checking account.

and he is contributing, don't get me wrong. but he's got things that are way far behind too because i'm not the only one that's managed to get so far off track. we're a couple of fiscal retards. that is so not awesome, i can't even begin to tell you how not awesome that is. it's like a whole new level of un-awesomeness, below anything i've ever experienced before...

anyway. that's enough of me griping for now. blah blah blah...

we all have problems. i still have free wifi. i have hot water. for now, i have a warm apartment and that's good. i live not far from a pretty big intersection here in our fair city (ha.) and it's one of the few where you can actually find homeless people. a few days ago there was a poor man down there, next to the off-ramp from the interstate, he was so sad and filthy, but he had a huge smile on his face because he had a kitten zipped up in his coat, its little head peeking out from the top of his zipper. it was so adorable. it took everything i had to keep from sobbing. because no matter how bad i think my life is, it's nothing compared to the suffering felt by others, to extents i can't even imagine.

i have places i can go, people who will love me and care for me, keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach. but i'm one of the lucky ones; not everyone can say that. maybe i'm just a sucker for the human condition, but that man made me cry because i felt guilty for feeling like everything was so wrong in my life when he was feeling so okay in his - he was, even for a moment experiencing such joy, you could see it on his face, in spite of his situation, it was amazing - and i have spent so much time wallowing in my own self pity, it just seems wrong. so i'm going to stop for now. and go enjoy the sunshine and the really nice day that it has become.

i did get some good news today. i got the job at the giant corporation that i don't really want but i'll take because it's a job and because it's money that will pay the bills that will keep me living comfortably, with shelter and food. good news is good news, after all.

but it's too nice to be in here any longer. i'm going to go sit on my deck and read.

hope your day is good.

what color hot pads do you want?

i'm hungry. i need to go to the supermarket. i despise grocery shopping, especially right now. i'm a little disgruntled with the whole chubby kids thing - my weigh in yesterday didn't go as well as i would have liked. three weeks in and i'm already cursing the program. that's not a good sign, is it? but it's my own willpower, or lack of, that's the issue - it's not necessarily chubby kids. i went to a center here in dsm, i didn't go all the way back home because i didn't feel like driving all that way just so i could drive back last night. and the people were nice but it just wasn't the same. i missed nigel and her crazy sister and all the werido local people that i've seen for the last couple weeks and the chubby kids nazi with the orthopedic shoes that we tease merclilessly over text message. it's just not the same when i'm all by myself with a group of people i don't know.

the bee is going to therapy with me next week. it didn't take any pleading or prodding; i just mentioned that my therapist thought it could be a good idea for us and he said he'd go next week. i about fell off the bed when i got that text message, i was so shocked. so when i left my appointment yesterday, she gave me our "homework" for next week. we have to evaluate our needs on 10 or 12 topics such as affection, admiration, conversation, honesty, sexual fullfilment, financial dedication, family dedication and so on and so forth. and then we have to rate how our partner meets our needs in each of those categories. the bee seems to think that this will be little more than the basis for a good argument. i liken it to a good honest (mediated) conversation. i guess we'll find out next week. if we end up in opposite corners of the room wearing boxing gloves, maybe therapy wasn't such a good idea... but i don't see that happening. i hope not, anyway.

my interview was this morning. i think it went well; it all hinges on a background check and then i guess i get to start work on april 7. it was kind of funny, i walked into a little conference room with a supervisor and we sat down and he said to me, "i'm supposed to ask you all these questions but i can see from your resume and from looking at you that you can do this job. you're overqualified for it, actually. you've been in the car business, so i'm going to be frank: the pay fucking sucks, the job is shit. but stick it out for a year and we'll get you transferred into something you actually want to do."

i cracked up.

i think he asked me about 25 percent of the questions on his list; the rest he made up the answers to as he went along. we drafted an offer of employment, which we both signed, which like i said, i think means i've been offered a job. and he's right, the pay sucks and the job does too, but it's a big company with lots of opportunity for growth and he seems cool. it's the same place that my little brother's crazy girlfriend works, so i already know someone and she said she'd split the referral bonus with me if i list her on the paperwork.

rock.

and like the therapist said, a job is a job until a better job comes along.

indeed. plus, it's laid back (i can wear jeans), it's easy work (dude, who's better at getting pissy than i am?), and it's dollars (as opposed to the less popular and more difficult to spend rupee). and dollars are dollars are dollars. plus (and this is one of the cooler benefits) i have the chance of winning a wii, if i do well. effin-a-right, cotton. fuck yes. i will get a wii. and i won't pay for it. i'm not talking all coastal mart style. but i will get me a damn wii. assuming i pass the background check. which means that i'm crossing my fingers that they don't discover the six months i spent in chico for selling mexican bam-bam to unsuspecting touristas in guadalajara.

that's a joke.

i can't get anyone to go to mexico with me. (and now that you know what i want to do when i get there, you can clearly see why...) and i don't even really know where chico is. i mean, i know where chico is, but is that where the prison is? i have no idea. i don't even really know what bam-bam is. i'd google it but then federal agents would prolly bust through the doors of the panera that i'm sitting in at the moment and then i'd have to explain what the fuck i'm doing googling bam-bam in the middle of panera on merle hay road in the smack dab center of white bread america and it'd turn out that they've been watching me for awhile now because i once checked out that charles manson book in like the 7th grade and i watch a lot of csi: miami and i recently figured out what m.o. means and how to stop the bleeding on an open wound with super glue. i'm obviously a threat to society and i'm well aware of it. i'd get hauled out of here in handcuffs, ala reese bobby in talladega nights but i don't have a cool car to climb into through the window, nor do i have a classroom of fifth graders to impress by screaming, "if you're not first you're last" so i'd have to knock over a trashcan or break a window on the way out with my foot or something and when it was all said and done and i'd done my time at the local women's prison and made everyone i know a dozen hand-crocheted hot pads and was spending my days on parole, wearing knock-off shoelace free white keds and being banned from the internet and all things technical, like that kid in the movie hackers, i'd have to pay fucking panera some resistution for their fucking trashcan or their dumbass window which i probably cut my foot on anyway.

which i could have stopped from bleeding and getting infected if they'd just have given me a tube of g.d. superglue.

fuck. don't they watch csi?

from your piehole...

i'm not sure where to start. i've been absent for a week, trying to collect my thoughts and decide what to put here. and i'm no closer to having everything sorted out than i was a week ago and i can still barely describe it.

you know how it is, when you think you've got everything all worked out in your head, you're finally starting to get a plan (or even a semblance of a plan), things are finally starting to come together and then out of nowhere comes that someone or something that just puts you right back at square one. right back at the very beginning, for whatever reason, and everything you thought you'd worked out suddenly doesn't seem so attractive. that's where i am. or where i was, rather. because everything i thought i wanted in the last few weeks has changed.

last week the bee and i started talking again. i think you all knew that. we talked face to face a couple of days. we spent the weekend together. and we've been pretty much inseparable since.

i know what you're thinking.

and yes. i know what i said.

and i remember what he said. i remember all of it.

but i can't help the way i feel. and i see a lot of positive changes in him - positive changes in him, positive changes in him about himself, positive changes in his attitude about us, positive changes in his attitude about a lot of things. the time we've spent together has been spectacular - we've talked more than we ever have before in the past, and about things that matter. we talked about the things that are important in our relationship and the things we did poorly in the past and the things we wanted to improve upon.

and we talked about the baby. we talked about the baby and we cried. we talked about the bee's poor response, his poor timing, the way he acted toward me and the way he treated me and all the things that we both think he could have done differently. and he apologized. he told me there are no reasons why and no excuses and he wishes he had done things differently because it's all he's thought about since that day.

me too.

he's not perfect. but i'm not perfect either. and i honest to god cannot help the way i feel, no matter how hard i try. and i have tried. i have tried for the last two months, if not longer, to pretend that i don't care. and i was so close to having myself convinced that he didn't matter that his words almost didn't mean anything. i was so close to leaving - to being done and being gone - that he almost didn't catch me. but i listened to him talk and i saw for myself that he is making changes and has made changes, and i knew that if i didn't try - if we didn't try - then i'd always wonder.

and i don't like what ifs. i don't like unfinished business.

i do not regret the things i have done, but those i did not do.

i have to admit, the consensus among family and friends is split just about down the middle. some have unabashedly told me i'm making the mistake of a lifetime, while others agree that i'd always wonder what could have been. no one has come out and said that they'll actually disown me for my decision but it feels like the words aren't far from leaving their mouths. the bee seems to think that talking to disagreeing parties would actually help the situation. i told him that would be opening a whole new can of worms and we should just shelve that idea for the time being. maybe allow some time for digestion, you know? i don't think that would make anything better - part of the problem at hand already is due to his mouth; i don't know that his talking to anyone is going to make it any better.

but anyway. since this last weekend, i've made the decision to move out of mom's house (mostly, anyway. i left a few things down there.) and back into the apartment in johnston. i'm paying my rent this month and looking for jobs in the dsm area because the rent and the car payment and so on and so forth aren't going to pay themselves and no amount of "i dream of jeannie" head bobbing and blinking is going to make that happen. and so i've spent the last few afternoons soaking up the free wifi at some hotspots not far from home looking for work and filling out myspace surveys. it's hard work but someone has to do it.

the apartment is a disaster and i feel like it should be bothering me but it's really not. there are boxes and plastic rubbermaid tubs all over the place - packing commenced before any sort of decision was reached and i can't bring myself to unpack what has already been packed because even though i'm staying my lease is only good through the end of may, which really isn't that far off. so for now, we're living among the boxes and tubs and eating off the same two plates (which for some reason i am compelled to put in the dishwasher only so we can pull them out and wash them by hand at each and every meal). clothes are everywhere because my closet was basically empty before i left for charlotte and i don't have the gumption to put anything away. there are towels all over the place because i've decided i'm a "new-towel-every-day" kind of gal, which is a whole new world for me and actually creates a lot of laundry in our paint-mixer/washing machine.

he's trying to help me with my chubby kids - and let me tell you, chubby kids is a heck of a lot harder when you're with someone than when you're moderately depressed and alone. food tastes better when you're with someone and there seems to be way more opportunity to eat it. but we figured out how many points he can eat in a day and at the end of the day we figure out how many points he's exceeded his daily allotment, it's sort of a game. his dietary needs are obviously a little different than mine, since he has a job and all and he gets some exercise at said job. however, being part of a couple, or at least this couple, does introduce some exercise back into my life, and i'm not talking about that, get your mind out of the damn gutter. he's all about going for walks and runs and dragging my slacker ass along for the ride. never mind that the whole time i'm thinking about what i'm missing on the food network but deep down i know it's good for me and i sort of appreciate the encouragement even though i do dislike the actual activity itself. not that there's anything wrong with it, i just dislike activity on general principle alone because i can and i'm good at it.

but things are different. and good. we're fighting the urge to ease back into old routines and habits, which isn't easy. but we both want things to work and with that goal in mind we're both set on changing things about ourselves, since we can't change things about each other. and it seems to be working. of course, it's only been a week. ask me next week how it's going.

i may need help disposing of a body.

i have a job interview on friday morning. i'm looking forward to that. because while i do enjoy being unemployed, i enjoy even more having a place to live and gas in the car. and being cute doesn't provide me with the dollars for those things, or at least enough dollars.

i'm kidding.

i love panera. i can sit here all afternoon, listen to really bad jazz muzak and enjoy free wifi and good smells. and the employees know exactly what i'm doing. but since i'm not the only one doing it, i don't feel bad at all. plus, you get to hear the funnest things. (is that a word?) today i got to listen to two old ladies determine if the outfit that old lady number one was going to wear to old lady number two's grandson's graduation party was "in style." (it was determined that it was not, that jacket went out of style ages ago, heavens to mergatroid.) i got to listen to this guy get fired for stealing a company truck. (but if he returns the keys, the license plates and all the beach boys cds, they won't prosecute.) and i got to hear an argument between a bf/gf over how much he hates mustard. (she thought he loved it; in fact, he told her mother that he loved mustard on turkey sandwiches and now she wonders what else he's lied to her and her mother about.)

oh my.

there isn't an option for fucking confused.

it's interesting to me how people filter in and out of your life. i shouldn't label it as convenience, because it's rarely convenient to me when it happens. in fact, it generally happens at the most inconvenient time - when i think that i'm moving on and carrying on and doing pretty well. and then they and their baggage arrive at my doorstep and i realize 1) that i have zero interest in them or their bullshit, 2) i can entertain them and their crap for a short period of time, like a weekend house guest, or 3) i've actually been wanting to see them (the bullshit is just a bonus, like fat free cool whip) and it's energy i don't have to expend to track them down and express interest in rekindling a friendship/relationship/what-the-fuck-ever.



so here i am, sort of minding my own business - at least, as much as i ever do - and here it comes. person of type number 3 and their baggage. and instead of the blame and the hurt that i expect to receive, it's nothing like that. it's everything i've been wanting to hear for a long, long time. except i know i'm not supposed to want to hear it - i know because i'm told this by everyone that more logical and knowledgeable than i - but i can't help it. it sounds good. and it feels good. it feels right. i don't know if it is - i don't know what it is, really. i don't know if it's permanent, i don't know if it will be here next week or even tomorrow. but in all this time, i've been telling myself that i don't want it and i don't need it and i've been lying. to myself and everyone else. because deep down, i've wanted it all along.



and so we talked. via text. then on the phone. and finally in person. not timely, obviously. and it was awkward. it was so awkward and so painful. but so seemingly necessary, for both of us. it was bound to happen, you know? so i told the story, i told it from beginning to end - i didn't leave out any of the details. and i listened to his version and his apology. and i cried. i cried hard. for a long time, i just couldn't speak. and i finally let him hold me and it felt so good, there was just something so right about it, i can't explain it. i can't put it into words.



i don't know where this leaves me. it's not the beginning of anything but it's not the end of anything, either. and i think we all knew that. i just liked to pretend that i was over it because it didn't hurt as much that way.



i'm just afraid that if i don't try i'll always wonder.



i'm sorry to disappoint you.

all i need is just a hug and a little bit of love

don't talk.

talk. but don't listen.

listen. but don't care.

care. but don't get involved.

get involved. and the whole time, wonder why.

wonder why and wonder how and wonder if it is the right thing or the wrong thing and wonder how in the fuck i'm ever supposed to figure any of this out.

insane for the sound of microsoft.

it's been a while. admit it - you missed me. it seems like the more time i have to blog the less i have to write about. what's up with that?

it's actually been kind of a busy week. it seems like every day last week i had to go to dsm for some reason. i had doctor's appointments and things just about every day last week. they all went well. i saw my therapist on thursday; she's wonderful. i just got to talk and talk about my trip. she thinks that moving will be good for me and that i'll find someone that deserves me. and she understands what i mean when i say that my days are no longer good and bad, it's more of a good moment/bad moment kind of thing that i experience. and she says that will never really go away, which i already sort of knew but hated to hear, you know?

i saw dr. mahone on friday morning. i hate that office more than i can put into words but i love that doctor so much - she is so sweet and so caring and so incredible. the first thing she said when she walked in is that she has no doubt that i will be able to have many, many healthy babies in the future. and i just broke down and cried. because i desperately wanted to hear that. no matter how much i wanted this baby, i needed to hear that from her. she did an exam and said that my body is back to normal and it won't be long before my heart doesn't hurt as much as it does right now. i find that hard to believe, but she said its the truth - it just takes time. i know she's right, because honestly it seems to be working. every day it hurts a little bit less but it's still there. some days it's a little less painful than others and other days i can't put it away - i can't shelve it, i can't put it in the back of my mind no matter how hard i try.

like right now.

but i'm learning to cope. i just tell myself that it wasn't my time, that i'll get to meet him later and that my little man is waiting for me, i just have to be patient for my someday. and then i don't feel quite so bad. or so desperate.

i'm doing things for me. thursday afternoon i went to what nigel and i affectionately call chubby kids, or what the rest of the world calls weight watchers. she's had some success with it and it could be good for me too. i don't have as much weight to lose as others but i do need to get into some good eating habits because candy and fast food aren't good eating habits unless you have my little brother's metabolism. so that's kind of cool. now i'm counting the points value of everything. except the points value of the entire bottle of crown royal i drank on friday night. apparently counting points started on saturday afternoon.

whoops.

friday was an interesting night, to say the least. i learned how to play assholes and presidents, which i still think is a made-up card game. and i sent out some mass drunk text messages, which i know were not appreciated by all recipients. (sorry.) but i did hear from a long lost ... friend? and got to spend time with him, although i have no idea what i said to him, and that sort of bothers me. but now that i know he's still out there, it's making me crazy. i think i was better off not knowing...

i really did drink myself into quite a painful state on friday - so much that i stayed home from green beer and pat benatar on saturday and so did nigel. and that's saying a lot. i slept all day yesterday and all last night. i still don't feel great - my chest feels all compressed and weird and i can't breathe. it kind of feels pneumatic but i don't have a fever or anything so i don't know what that's all about. it's probably nothing.

speaking of pneumonia, my poor, poor grandma is in the hospital. she's been having trouble breathing for some time and has been on oxygen and apparently hasn't been on enough oxygen. she went to the hospital via ambulance this morning and was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. she'll be there a few days to a week, which is sad because her birthday is this saturday and all the family is coming down. i hope she's out so she can enjoy it. i just hope she's okay. she looked perfectly awful this morning; her face was all swollen and puffy, i guess the steroids she's been taking makes her face swell but it looked terrible and it was kind of shocking. mom said she's been trying to prepare me for that but there's really no way to be prepared for that. i was really surprised. plus, she didn't have any makeup on and she looked really pale and small - she's just so tiny. it was just scary. i'm not good at stuff like that.

with the exception of two grandpas pretty much in the same weekend, i've been pretty lucky when it comes to stuff like that. that was 10 years ago. i'm not ready for anyone else to go but i probably don't get a lot of say, you know?

i got a new tattoo. it's beautiful. it's my direct connection to the baby; it's my way of honoring the baby. to me, it's better than jewelry. i'll post a picture when it heals. it's still kind of red and sore right now.

so last week i had a little too much to drink on thursday night and came home and went to bed and forgot to make my picks for my fantasy nascar league. which means that i missed the deadline and had to use the same picks from last week. i spent the last few days convinced i was going to give up my lead in my fantasy league all over an extra margarita. oh hell no! kevin harvick (my a-team driver and my dreamworld lover, oh how i love, love, love kevin harvick!) spun out tony stewart on the second to last lap to take second place and i not only held on to first place again this week (woot woot!), i won in points this week!

i know - i rule.

and with that, i'm going to bed. or rather, i'm going to go watch some csi and then i'm going to go to bed.

lucky for you, tomorrow is thong thursday!

blah, blah, blah...

i don't have anything to say. i sort of have a headache. i haven't updated my 365 in two days. it's turning into a 367. slacker! i need to find some boxes; where do you go to find boxes? i should look at my own apartment complex. people are always moving in there. i may just do that tomorrow. i have to go back to dsm tomorrow for another appointment. i didn't get to go to the doctor today, we were running late and they rescheduled me for friday. good thing i love to drive. remember the movie "empire records"? remember the adorable aj? he's on csi: miami. just a fun fact for cocktail parties. as if i needed another reason to watch.

i really don't have anything to say. i might go to bed now.

oh. ps. i'm writing this from the comfort of my pseudo-bedroom. oh hells yes. we've gone wireless in this hizzouse. :D

i'm ignoring my business

i didn't want to come back here. that's not to say i didn't want to see my mom or mark or craig or anybody, i just didn't want to come back to this room or any of the bullshit last associated, you know? so when i got to the top of the steps last night and there was that doorway at the end of the hall, i got that anxious feeling again. and i haven't had that for three weeks now and i wasn't particularly excited to have it again. and i knew then that i have to get out of here. not so much out of this house but out of this place. out of this place in my life. i've got to move on. but i unpacked - out of my suitcase and into my laundry hamper! - and got over it. it is what it is, for now. but it won't be for long.

things here are mad crazy messed up and it's not just me. there's reassurance in numbers, but there's nothing reassuring about what's going on here. my grandma's health is failing, my mother is miserable in her job (to the point that it's affecting her health and her sanity) and her job is so awful and unstable, there's no telling what will happen, even on a day to day basis. it's so bad i can hardly stand to listen to it.

it's weird, what we get used to in a short amount of time, you know? like last night, i went to the door of the refrigerator and looked for the water. except there isn't a water dispenser there. but i really had to look before i figured that out. and then when i went to bed, i stood in the center of the bedroom to adjust the ceiling fan. except there was none, but i stood there waving my hands in the air for a couple minutes before i realised that. retard. this morning i woke up wondering if ryan had work to do. and he may have work to do. but my sleeping in really has no impact on that considering i'm 996 miles away. work away, ryan. put plans on the futon. really. however, i was so extremely spoiled by the wireless internet i could just cry. i'm ready to drill a hole in the damn ceiling and run wires, resale value be damned.

oh ugh. i really do have things i should be doing today. and none of them involve playing online or updating my myspace or watching csi: miami (of which there were 17 episodes to watch when i got here last night, woot woot!). i just feel like loafing today. i have a birthday party to go to tonight and some birthday cards to buy today. i should do some laundry. i should make some phone calls. i should be at the storage unit with some big ass garbage bags and some boxes. instead i think i may just chill today. tomorrow and thursday i have to be in the big city (lol) for appointments and things (and to feed the fish) so today will be my designated decompression day and tomorrow i will get busy. tomorrow, and every day after, i will have things to do. but not today. until later, i guess.

leaving on a jet plane, part deux

tomorrow i'm headed to the aeropuerto. again. where i'm headed towards atlanta. again. forecast calls for sunny and 63 degrees, so no snow to screw up my connection. it's even going to be nicer at home, with partly sunny and 40 degrees. it's a veritable heat wave. break out the shorts and slippas - the janel is back in town!

i never really unpacked so i don't really have to repack. i do have to have my phone charger because nigel and i had a text fest this afternoon. snackmaster bob's birthday is coming up and we're trying to plan bobfest '08. he wants a dj, naked bb gun fights and stripper poles. i'm down with that. last year, we didn't have bobfest until october and it was basically a garage party that nigel and i spent in the house playing barbie with the kids because we didn't know anybody outside. i don't know how that worked out.

i can tell that libbeth and ryan are ready for me to leave. they've tried to infect me with the flu and human parvovirus b19 and i just won't go away. you know, you don't have to give me communicable diseases. you could just politely ask me to get my slacker ass and my shit out of your office so you could get some work done. (hint, hint.) but if i get a "slapped around bitch" rash, i am calling your daughter's guidance counselor and giving her a what for. when i come back in a few weeks, i'll bring me a damn tent and sleep in the back yard. deal? :D

do you think green beer makes your pee green?

st. patrick's day is coming up! i've never had green beer! does it taste any different than regular beer? will it make my teeth green? how's about my tongue? (doesn't the word tongue look like it should be pronounced ton-goo?) st. paddy's day celebrations will be taking place the same evening as our pat-benatar-sing-a-long, so that ought to be fun. i 'll just have to find something green to wear.

i ate too much candy today. too many dove dark chocolate eggs, too many doritos, too much mtn. dew. top that with some olive garden ziti and i am one sick chick. hallelujah, holy shit. where's the tylenol?

okay. i should be thinking about bed. at least i don't have to go to bed so early this time around. i overslept last time and woke up in a panic! but not at the disco. bollocks.

peace out, ninjas. i'm done for now.

rock me, please...

couldn't you just eat him up?

yoohoo! i'll make ya famous!

i'm not a big horse fan. i mean, i'm not a big fan of horses. i guess i'm not a fan of big horses, either. fuck it. i'm scared of them. bastards are big and bitey and just plain scary. plus, they can run my ass over and the janel does not like that. truth be told, 78 percent of the population can probably outrun my ass but not with the intensity of a horse and not with big metal shoes and therefore i do not find that 78 percent of the population as frightening.

anyway.

we're watching "young guns 2." have you seen this? i have not. and i can say that even after watching this that i still haven't seen it. because i'm not paying a bit of attention even though i claim to be multitasking. westerns aren't really my bag, homeslice. once charlie sheen died in the first one, i was all, oh hell no, and consequently found something better to do. like read about how emilio estevez almost went bankrupt while writing "bobby" in 2006, which is another movie i didn't see. that was definitely time well spent. because that will most definitely be printed on a trivial pursuit bankruptcy edition sometime in the near future and i will rock that game like a motherfucking hurricane.

yeah, so anyway.

i'm pretending to watch "young guns 2" and all i see is horses falling down every time a gun goes off. do horses really fall down all that often? how could they have been considered a reliable source of transportation if they were always falling down? think about all the horses used in wars and battles and shit - around all those guns and cannons and junk. how did anyone ever stay upright? how did anyone ever win anything? we are lucky we aren't a nation of elves riding on the back of snow leopards wielding 10-pound potato sacks and bamboo stalks if horses are so weak in the knees.

imagine a nation of snow leopard riding elves fighting a war against a batallion of weak-kneed and apparently top-heavy horses. that is a one-sided battle if i ever heard of one.

no. i'm not on drugs.

it's just a jump to the left

today is spring forward day. generally, i dislike spring forward day because i lose an hour of sleep. however, for the last three weeks, i've been living the life of someone already sprung forward because i'm a central time zone girl living in an eastern time zone world. (in my head, i can sing that to the tune of that god awful barbie girl song; do you remember that? if not, here you go. i'll apologize in advance.)

it's actually kind of cool; when i go back to iowa i'll actually feel like i've gained an hour. and then when i come back here in a few weeks, i will lose it again. i'm creating my own little time warp.

so the last week or so, i've been using proactiv. now i don't have a really bad acne problem, in fact, it's about the opposite. my skin is actually not that bad. i think all the hormones i've had lately have been contributing to the few pimples that i do have. but the rest of my skin is so clear, and i am so physically unable to leave the pimples that i do get alone (i'm a picker, i admit it), that they look awful. so libbeth had some proactiv and said it might work, so i thought i'd give it a try. especially since it works so well for all those people on tv, jessica simpson included.

so i've been washing, toning and lotioning every morning and every night. and that shit works, man. it works like a charm. i'm living in zit free zone. what they don't tell you - what jessica simpson doesn't tell you - is that it makes you feel like leatherface. wtf is up with that? i guess i should expect some leatherface action when i'm spreading pure prescription grade benzoyl peroxide on my face twice a day. and at this point, it's not noticeable to the innocent bystander. so i'm going to lay off the "repairing" lotion and see if that helps with my urges to wield a chainsaw in rural texas.

i read the proactive website top to bottom and leatherface was not mentioned anywhere. i'm hoping this is a temporary side effect because i'd like to be featured in an upcoming infomercial on a&e.

today is race day. my picks are way off the wall. i have a feeling my first place status is in jeopardy. it's too bad it's not still snowing in atlanta; it would be more interesting to watch my drivers if they lost while navigating the 1.54 oval while sporting tire chains on a track that was semi iced over. i'd call that a race. others would call it driving i-235 on a monday morning through the raging metropolis that is des moines.

but for now i think i may go look for something to eat. it's sunday and i'm hungry. somehow my body can discern weekdays from weekends. because i'm not hungry at all during the week. but on the weekends, all i want to do is snack. what's up with that?

back to the futon

it's a good thing i love airports. because i just went to the airport in charlotte this morning and hung out for awhile. no, seriously. i got to the airport, got all checked in, got to the gate, went and bought some chapstick and then it was like all hell broke loose at gate a3. there were people everywhere. angry people, upset people, crying babies, people with guitars (what's up with that?), people in suits, people with way too much luggage - all forming one giant ass line at gate a3. and gate a3 only had one teenie weenie little agent who looked like she was about 12 years old and about ready to cry.

and i felt sorry for her. because i've been there before.

as it turns out, they got like four snowflakes in atlanta. and they decided to deice some planes. and that just fucked every plane in and out of atl for several hours, if not the rest of the day. the flight before mine was supposed to leave at 9am and delta was aiming for a 1pm departure. mine was scheduled to leave at 10am; they were hoping it would get out today. i just laughed; what do you do? i've been on both sides of the desk - there's no use in getting upset. it's not anybody's fault. so when i finally got to talk to an agent, at about 11am, i was given these options:

• a four legged trip on two different airlines, through washington dc and lga, where there is snow and ice and therefore no guarantee of getting home anytime soon. earliest arrival: tomorrow morning at 9am. oh hell no.
• a standby seat tomorrow night, departing at like 9pm. um, pass.
• or travel on monday, leaving at noon and getting into mci at 5 in the afternoon. okay. sign me up.

so i called libbeth and explained what was going on. she said she'd bring me a blanket and a pillow so i could sleep at baggage claim, which i thought was nice. so here i am, back to the futon. which is cool, since i didn't really want to go home anyway. nigel was way more upset about it than i was because we were going to get assy drunk. but there is always next weekend.

we are watching the north carolina superbowl: unc @ duke. i'm the lone blue devil in a house full of tar heels. the game is tivo-ed, we're watching it with a good 25 minute delay. however, i'm keeping an eye on the current score, thanks to espn.com, and i think it's going to be even more difficult to be a blue devil fan here in a few minutes.

and i was right. piss.

i'm leaving on a jet plane...

all my bags are packed, i'm ready to go...

i love john denver. i used to work in a family-owned bridal shop run by two sisters. one sister was a tree-hugging hippie who played nothing but sentimental john denver. the other never really left the drug-heavy disco era and as such played a lot of sly and the family stone and the more risque, if it can be called that, rod stewart. their mother, bless her heart, was bat shit crazy and asked for (and received) a skid loader for her birthday. i have no idea why i'm telling you any of this.

two and a half weeks of staying up until dawn has finally caught up to me. last night, again, i was up until at least 0430, watching the x-files and listening to my ipod. i like the x-files. i really like david duchovny. but watching the x-files and listening to my ipod and imagining the dialogue on television is an entirely different experience altogether. because i can make scully as whiny as i think she should be in my mind. and instead of scaring the holy crizzap out of me, like they usually do, it was absolutely hilarious.

anyway. i was telling you that finally, this weird ass schedule is catching up with me. because i only got a few hours sleep last night and i can feel it today. generally, i don't fall asleep watching television, but because ryan had a major project due today, he was working all night and therefore i was kicked out of the office and off the futon and onto the sofa. once i finally stopped giggling at stupid scully and her dumbass pantsuits and fell asleep, i fell asleep hard. so hard i was flopping around and flopped my ass right off the sofa and onto the floor, a two thumper even. ryan thought it might have been one of the kids so he came out to see what was going on, but he said he could tell it was me by the way i was sitting up, mumbling with my eyes wide open. he tried to talk to me but i never responded. he's lucky. i say some weird ass stuff in my sleep. some day, i'll ask libbeth to guest post about the intricacies of the janel. you will laugh your ass off.

another pro: you can buy schweppes ginger ale down here. that's the good stuff. none of that nasty ass canada dry crap.

so yes. i'm leaving tomorrow morning. i'm all packed. my clothes are laid out and i'm as ready as i can be this evening. i'm experiencing the same sort of anxiety that i did as an eight-year-old prior to the first night of school. because i don't want to leave. part of me wants to stay, because let's face it: i'm on vacation and who ever wants that to end? der. part of me wants to stay because i don't want to leave this little family i've grown to love so much. but i also don't want to leave because i don't want to have to face the reality and bullshit in iowa either. it would be really easy to just let it all go, leave all the responsibility behind and run away. but i can't do that again.

so today i made a list of all the things i have to accomplish upon my return, and i'm sure it's not complete. i know i haven't thought of all of them and i know it will only get longer. i also made a list of things i need to do before i move, some of these are the same thing, some are a little different. because ultimately, i would like to spend 2-3 weeks back in iowa and then come back down here, to interview and stay for a while or for work and to move, however it happens to work out. did you hear that? i've decided i want to move. now, i don't want to live on the futon and i know they don't want me to. but i'd like to come back down and get things in place, whatever that happens to be.

around that time, libbeth should be having or should have already had the baby and i may be able to assist around the house and with the other kids. i will never be able to repay them for the good that they've done me the last 19 days - and i don't even mean opening their home or feeding me, because i probably won't be able to repay them for that either - this trip has been so very therapeutic and good for my soul. i feel so much better, in my head and in my heart, and i know it's because i was able to get away and look at my life from a distance, another perspective.
that said, i would only like to come back as long as i am able to help and i'm not in the way. because a new baby, or a baby soon on the way certainly changes the way a household operates. and another house guest can certainly make things more difficult. so i want she and ryan to discuss that before i knock on their door.

but that is my plan, as of yet, anyway. i'll let you know if it changes. and for now, i'm going to go to bed. or go lie down. it's barely the crack of midnight and i'm going to try to go to sleep. sha, right. but i do have to be up early; my flight leaves at 10am. wtf was i thinking?

ugh. gnite.

i will get you grammy's hat back if it kills me, okay?

no drunk dialers last night. all was quiet on the futon. i didn't get to bed any earlier, in spite of our best intentions of leaving "early" for asheville today. i was still up until after 0430 reading "eat pray love," which is good so far but i'm pretty sure i can predict the ending. especially since i accidentally read the last chapter. whoops.

so today was our big trip to the mountains. except we never really made it to the mountains because we got sidetracked by the food in asheville. in fact, i don't know that the mountains were ever really on the agenda so much as the food was. and if you know me at all, you know that i'm down with that. because while i love nature, i generally love it from an air-conditioned, comfortable, insect-free distance. and the city of asheville provided just that buffer this afternoon as libbeth and i ate our way across the town. thank you food network. :)

beer battered fish and onion rings at johnny's uptown grille. omf(reaking, mom, freaking)g.

janel's carb-o-palooza at the early girl eatery: mac n' cheese, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and candied sweet potatoes. i am slowly coming off this sugar rush and it's fucking painful, dude. somebody get me some sugar, stat! i'll eat it from the damn bag!

libbeth's crab cake and fried green tomato napoleon at the early girl eatery. holy crap this was good. i wanted to eat it for her but she's pretty quick and accurate with a fork and i like my fingers attached to my hands.

this is libbeth, saying, "put down that stupid camera, i'm trying to eat." i don't listen very well.

we walked and we ate and we shopped and we ate and she bought 100$ shoes and we ate. it was a good time. asheville is an interesting town. it's sort of like madison, wisconsin, in that nothing is square or plumb or seemed to be laid out with any sort of plan in mind. "hmm, let's build a building and then put a street here and then, oops, dead end and we'll make this a one way and this looks like a great place for a park and nope! you can't enter here - wrong way!" navigating the neat-o neighborhoods was sort of like navigating diagon alley in harry potter (and i do have to give credit to libbeth for that analogy). it was a tiny little street that should have been an alley; barely wide enough to drive. i don't know how people parked. it was awesome. it would have been jolly fun to drive but it appears that the superjanel's driving record precedes her and because of this, libbeth will not allow me to drive in her presence. however, everytime she sees a state patrol/highway cop/city cop/county cop/rent-a-cop/car that resembles a cop she slams on the brakes and screams, "fuck i think i was doing 80!" but who am i to judge...

we browsed some really cool shops. one lured us in with their 8$ shoes only to find 145$ sweaters, which i think is NOT COOL. it was all full of hippie clothing and peace signs and crap, and i'm all down with that, really, i am, but i thought hippies were cheap and poor and into buying into the whole, "this is all natural and made of dirt and sticks and pure cotton and old newspaper and things and i made it in my kitchen sink last month and i've been wearing it everyday since and i know it smells but it just adds to the authenticity of nature, man" thing, instead of, "look at my fantastic peasant skirt made by calvin-fucking-klein." there's just something not right with that. so i've come to the conclusion that asheville is full of rich hippies or boomer hippies whose children have grown up and now they're going back to their flower-child, flowing-skirt wearing ways, except it's a new war and their boobs are all saggy. hey, whatever floats your boat. i'll buy your 8$ shoes if you had my size.

i didn't buy much. i got a couple new journals: one to write in and one that i'll carry around with me that will hold everything that i need to remember but will forget. i believe i have premature alzheimer's. seriously. because i can't remember jack anymore. if i don't write it down, then it's dead to me. it's gotten to the point where i actually say, "i need to write this down" and then i don't, and then later, i'm all, "what was that i was going to write down?" and no one can remember because apparently my condition is terrible and awful and contagious and i am so, so very sorry to all that i have inflicted this upon.

i think my feet stink. i wore slippas today and i think they made my feet stink. i desperately want a pedicure.

only three days until nigel and bob and i are getting skanky drunk. woot.

is it a peach or is it a butt? you be the judge. from here, it almost looks like it's pooping. ew. we passed this on our way home tonight. this isn't my picture, by the way. it was too dark for pictures.

so we missed our turn coming home, which i'm gathering for libbeth is a common thing, but i'm down with it because i dig sightseeing, even at night. this means that we drove a few miles out of our way and through south carolina. i wasn't a geography major - i never even took geography in high school. but let me put this all together for you - this is how ganked up the roads are down here: we started out in north carolina. we took a "wrong" turn and ended up in south carolina. as far as i could tell, coming from the girl with no sense of direction, who wasn't wearing her glasses and wasn't really watching the road (i'm just being honest here) we only turned once (and it wasn't to turn around, der) and then we were back in north carolina and then we were home. what the hell is that all about? how is that even possible? i am so confused. i need to buy a map. if i'm going to move, i need to buy a map and i need to study. i need someone to quiz me. seriously. because i am going to be one lost little girl, calling my mom to google me out of the ghetto.

we watched some kid chase down an old man who tried to steal gas tonight. that was exciting. the old man got in his car and drove off and the kid (who was hot, by the way!) came out of the store and got in his car and chased him down. like 30 seconds later they were both back and the old dude was inside, trying to pay with a bogus card. weird. how do you explain that? "um, oh yeah... i forgot? thanks for coming to ... remind... me?"

i am wearing the worst pair of underpants in the world. no joke. i don't know what happened to these, they're really cute and i like the color, they're pink and white stripes, all hip huggery. but i think they got cooked in the dryer or something because they apparently don't have any elastic in them. and i remember thinking this the first time i wore them but it's gotten progressively worse every time since then. and it's gotten so bad that as we were walking along our little diagon alley today, i was all, "um, i think my underpants are around my ankles and i don't think they go there." it was quite strange. but i'll probably pack them up and take them home because the big dog here likes to go through the trash on occasion and it could possibly traumatizing for all if she were to dig my broken underpants out of the garbage.

i leave on saturday. i don't want to go home. i'm going to go troll myspace for cute boys now. peace out, ninja. :D