it's a dinosaur garden

screw that whole jurassic park mosquito in the amber idea. nigel's growing dinosaurs in her back yard.

glad it's not my bed.

that, friends, is cat puke.

that is cat puke on bed sheets.

that is cat puke on bed sheets that aren't on my bed!

great aim, kitties! :)

(i know, i shouldn't be laughing, right? this makes me evil, right? wrong! turn my cat homo and see what happens!)

okay. i'm going to go get ready for work now. it's going to be a good day.

OH - my previously lost fish is now found. he's just antisocial. yesss...

i still hate peyton manning.

but this is pretty freakin' funny.

editor's note:

this video came to me courtesy of my best-real-non-myspace-friend libbeth. she's actually a peyton manning fan (i know, wtf?, right?). she's asking for royalties and credit for my posting of this video.

okey dokey. there you go. consider yourself royaltied. (um, i don't think that's right. royaltyed? royalty-ed? royalti-ed? i give up. i'm giving you credit, damn it.)

love, superjanel
(the editor)

omg, we lost an aircraft.

'have you ever wondered...?'

'hypothetically, what do you think would happen if...?'

if i never hear those two statements again, life will be good. the gods at work must have drawn my number because i'm working long shifts with the station idiot lately. and gump, she's a goddamn genius, texas-style, let me tell you.

prime example: lately, the tsa has been conducting random aircraft searches. that's fine, whatever, just don't make me late. so today, station idiot pulls up the flifo (departure/arrival time and notes) for a flight and notices that there is a delay on this particular flight due to 'aircraft search.'

i swear to god, this is what she said:

'does this mean they can't find the aircraft?'

i about wet myself, i was laughing so hard. it was classic, even better than the 'that's not a penis, that has to be cauliflower' line.

i'm still giggling about this.

hehehe... i love this.

this is what i wake up to, each and every morning.

ON MY BED.

i want to wear the gold medal... naked.

welcome back, boys and girls. it's been a while. have you missed me? don't lie. you know you missed me. i've missed me and i've been with me all weekend. and what a weird weekend it was. i could tell you about it, but i don't want to harm innocent parties. i don't even really want to harm the guilty parties...

but it was fun. so did i tell you that my schedule at work got changed? yeah, it did. and i was fully aware of it but for some reason it didn't sink in that it was taking effect last saturday. so last saturday i was three hours late for work. after the warning my adorable boss gave me that one more occurrance would be my last occurance and most likely my last day, i was happy to learn that ignorance and illiteracy are not cause for an unexcused absence and i'm still employed. at least i think i am. i guess i'll know for sure when i try to go to work on thursday.

so saturday, i worked for three hours, drove back to so. iowa for three hours and got my drink on... a little more than usual, even. it was a messy, messy evening. but it was a fun evening. bacardi and cola and (a few too many) southern hospitality make the janel an interesting girl. interesting to hang out with, interesting to talk to, and definitely interesting to find in a truck at 0400 in the morning. but such is my life and the lives of those that choose to hang out with me...

sunday, i woke up to like 17 missed phone calls because my phone had been on silent and so had my alarm, which means that i also overslept and woke up in a panic. got to work, napped in the parking lot and woke up realizing that i'd lost my license and my debit card the night before, but retracing my steps i remembered where they were and who to contact to get them back, even though that's a little weird because he's got a wifey that answers the phone. ('yeah, hi, i'm the superjanel, and i used to go to school with you and i hated you then and i still don't really like you, but can i talk to your husband? i think he has something of mine that i left in his truck last night when we were out drinking until dawn and i'd like to get them back...') yeah. that makes for good conversation. in southern iowa, those are grounds for murder. i've prolly got a hit out on me. damn it. thanks reent.

sunday was a long day. hungover, tired as crap, couldn't wait to go home and go to bed. but i did make it through my downloaded episode of the office, which was great, because how often do you really get to hear someone say 'i accidentally cross-dressed today.' i'm going to try that out on someone.

monday. monday morning i drove back down to c-town to work job #2. not a very interesting day, pretty slow. gran massa and i managed to piss off my mom beyond recognition and i realized that not every one appreciates my sense of humor. and i know not everyone appreciates the gran massa's. (just apologize, dude. just do it.) so i'm still feeling bad about that. monday afternoon i drove to the dutch village of all that is holy, misspelled, hidden back in the back of the closet and fucking overpriced, with nigel and her crew. ate ice cream and cheese with snackmaster bob and then went to see roberto and his new pad, which is adorable and i cannot wait to sleep on his sofa! monday night i talked to baxter and told him about the dream of the century i had the night before. holy crap, i can't even think about it right now because i'm supposed to be all presentable and stuff... LOL. just a few more days. i'm so excited! :D

tuesday. today. got a phone call from my momma at quarter after one this morning. she wanted to know where i was, she was worried. i don't generally laugh at this type of thing, it's not good to worry my mom, but it cracked me up because i was upstairs sleeping in my old room. got phone calls at 0300, 0330, 0415, 0500, 0600, 0630 and 0700. not even phone calls i wanted (there are some people i'd talk to at any hour - sleeping or not, but this is not one of them). someone wants to know where i am - at that hour? are you kidding me? dumbass, i'm sleeping and i wish you were too so you'd quit drunk dialing me in the middle of the damn night. gahhh! go home and beat your wife, isn't that what you're supposed to be doing after you've been out all night - not calling me to tell me weirdo things... i just want my driver's license back.

spent some of the morning on the phone with my attorney. boys and girls, i've got an announcement to make, are you ready for this?

~*~*~*~i'm officially single.~*~*~*~

yup. done. over. no more. i'm keeping the last name because no one can pronounce or spell my old one, but sistas, i'm out. i'm done. i'm free. and it feels good. it feels really good. on my way home from work tonight i have to stop and sign one piece of paper and then i'm finished. it's been a long time coming but it's for the best. do i harbor bad feelings? meh. not really worth it. takes to much energy to hate someone and i'd rather spend that energy on other things and other people. i feel great about this. and then after i get home tonight me and the roommate are tying one on in honor of my newfound freedom. woohoo!

and then i'm going home and drunk dialing my .... friend. :)

what do you call someone in a situation like this? friend is the only thing that seems to make sense and even then, it feels a little.... weird. i don't like my friends this way, you know? i'm leaving in a few days for the big "meeting" and i'm nervous as a whore in church about the whole thing. but it'll be fun... i'm really looking forward to this. it's time to meet new people, try new things, see new places.

except for canada. fuck those canadians and their bacon.

i'm out kiddos. off to find things to do.

love,

superfreakinfinallysingleandi'mheadedtovirginiajanel

xoxoxoxo

steve, let's go drinking...

similar to drinking with the janel...

no, literally. fruit flies.

last week, me and the roomie went to moline and ate free pizza. and then we bought fruit. four pieces of fruit. two star fruit and two mangoes. (mangoes? mangos? i think its mangoes... wtf. anyway...) when i brought said bag of fruit in the house, there were only three pieces of fruit.

i thought maybe the gran massa was hungry for a mango. whatever. i don't care.

i mean, they did look pretty good.

and everybody wants the mango, even j.lo. check that shit out. wait, that's not the right mango.

so i asked him. and he's all, nope, i may be a fruit, but i didn't eat any.

hmmm....

that means that there's a lone mango rolling around somewhere in my car.


so now i'm a little concerned. pretty soon, this mango isn't going to smell very good. it's going to get all smooshy and soft and like melt in my car (kind of like m&m's, which don't melt in your hand, but melt in your car, isn't that how the saying goes? no? well piss...) and then i'm going to have fruit flies.

in ugoff.

now i realize that i'm not an avid car washer/vacuumer/cleaner/accident-avoider (hehehe...), but i don't want a car full of fruit flies.

this is unacceptable, private pyle.

unacceptable.

i'm thinking i should call that cop from two weeks ago and be like, you found my white hot tizzies cd and my mom's beer bottle - can you do me a favor and find my missing fruit?

no? such is the mango...

i couldn't tell a difference.

this cracks me up.

i'm in love with demetri martin...

*sigh*

i'm not a failure!

i just remembered!

i gave up drinking AND arby's for lent.

and to date, i still haven't had arby's.

there's still a chance...

my corndog is on fire! woohoo!

i love corndogs. i prefer my corndogs to be served at the state fair with homemade root beer, surrounded by large, hairy, sweaty overgrown men and women in t-shirts bearing their east side pride while pulling their children around on leashes. but in a pinch, i'll heat up the corndogs from the box and eat to my little heart's content.

except tonight, the gran massa decided that he was going to eat the whole box. there were like 15 corndogs in there. (i'll save my analytical dissertation on the [un]nutrition of eating 15 corndogs for another post...) so if i was going to have a corndog this week, it was every girl for herself.

so i stuck them in the oven. and 20 minutes later they were done. YUM! corndogs and lots of catsup, and i'm a happy girl! :D

but five minutes after that, you'd think the freakin house was going to explode. the smoke detectors started going off because someone that made corndogs (who could that be?!) forgot to turn off the oven and there's like a seven pound wad of burnt cheese in the bottom of it (again, i don't know who would do such a thing...). i don't know whose idea it was to put dueling smoke detectors in the living room, but one was always two beats behind the other and it was making me nuts. i like even my chaos to be orderly...

but that's not the point.

how do you think the gran massa gets a smoke detector to stop beeping?

take out the batteries? knock the thing off the ceiling? air out the oven and hope for the best?

nope.

in our house, we find it best to stand directly under the beeping smoke detector and blow on them as hard as possible.

around here, the fun never, ever stops. because we are retarded.

love, supersortofretardedandfullofcorndogsjanel

you're a slacker, mcfly!

just how do the japanese know about our super secret clock in the rock in colorado, anyway? if they know about it, it can't be that classified, can it? maybe that's why my clock's not sync-ing... this is the beginning of the end and it all started with a super (not-so) sophisticated seiko alarm clock and the president oversleeping. bastards!

boys and girls, superjanel just unraveled a major world wide space time continuum flux capacitor mystery. de nada, de nada.

now just hand me the nobel peace prize and some chicken nuggets and we'll call it a day. that's scooby doo type ending, isn't it?

stupid japanese clock

here we are, like three days into daylight savings or something, and my super expensive, super advanced, super "you never have to set this clock it will forever set itself because it syncs with the atomic clock hidden in the mountains in colorado" smart clock has yet to realize that it's not right. since this is supposed to sync with the super hidden, super classifed clock in the rock in colorado, does this mean that the government is also running one hour behind? is the president running one hour late as well?

you'd think that if microsoft could get their shit together and get my laptop clock running correctly, which they did, the fucking government could sync my alarm clock.

you know, you steal a nice clock from a nice hotel and this is what happens. if i'd have paid for this, i'd take it back. but since i didn't, and since taking it back would only admit to the dfw grand hyatt that i did take their bedside alarm clock, well... i'll just live with it.

maybe if i take the batteries out and put them back in it'll reset itself.

fucking stolen technology anyway.

desperation doesn't wear well...

being sick brings out the worst in people. it makes depressing people more depressed, it makes dramatic people more dramatic. if you happen to be a depressed dramatic sick person, chances are, you're just fucked. because you're sinking into a deep dark hole of theatrics that no powerade-cough-syrup-antibiotic-mixture will quickly bring you out of. and generally, that should leave you feeling sorry for those around you. except in my case, i live with another one of these people so we just feed off one another.

i guess the mature thing is that i can realize this? my baby steps have brought me to realization? i don't know if i should be proud of this accomplishment or hang my head in shame, not knowing how to overcome this level of patheticness that i come across when my fever surges above 101-degrees...

i think i tend to remember an alternate life in the house on the eternal return... blurring out the events that angered, saddened, upset me on a regular basis and looking for those that made my garden churn roses. it's interesting how the brain works, especially when you're sick, to make you think that you gave up the life of the marvelous when in fact it was humdrum at best.

i know i'm happier now. i can see it in myself. but every now and then i have fits of lugubriousness, seemingly brought on by things i'm unable to control, like this. i don't want my old life back, i really don't. i was a pretty miserable person. i like me, i like me now.

i'd like me better if i weren't sick, but hey, what do you do?

ugh. maybe it's just the medicine talking.

so the gran massa's condition is not improving either. together, we're quite a pair. the main difference between us at this point is that he's been issued a nebulizer and i have not. his nebulizer (that word just makes me laugh) sounds funny when in use... so when he closes the bedroom door to "nebulize" it makes me think of other things. and then of course god strikes me down with a gigantic coughing fit for thinking such ludicrous thoughts.

but if you should hear such a funny noise coming from behind my bedroom door, no worries, dearies. i'm just vibrulzing... oops, nebulizing, i'm sure of it. :D

i know that's just the medicine talking.

i'm going to be one of the x-men. the one with gills.

i'm growing gills. my lungs are full of water and i'm making the transition to fishdom.

actually, no. i have pneumonia. thanks, roomie. this has to be the second greatest gift i've ever received from you. one, the swatch watch. two, pneumonia. this is awesome.

yay me.

i went to the hospital and they made me wear a sars mask. check this shit out...


so hot.

okay. so i'm going to go take a gran massa sized dose of cough syrup and pass out in the living room.

word.

...and then one day, israeli intelligence comes to the door.

i am jacked up on cold medicine and mt. dew. i will not sleep for days. i am a rockstar. i am invincible. i will come at you like a spider monkey. i am going to see how many episodes of the office i can watch in a row. and then i will watch the entire godfather series. and then i don't know what will do. maybe by then the post office will be open.

i'm sick. i don't have ich, but i'm feeling icky. i have a cold. i can't find my driver's license, i'm sure it's around here somewhere, but until it surfaces i can't buy any advil cold and sinus. why? because the state of iowa won't let me buy it without presenting my driver's license because it has pseudoephedrine in it. and pseudoephedrine is one of the many ingredients that goes into making methamphetamine.

now, if the state of iowa had their wits about them, they would know that i can't even bake fucking brownies and i sure as hell can't make meth and would realize that i, of all people, am harmless to the drug czar as any sort of drug producing threat. i'm not even a breakfast producing threat. but they don't know that. perhaps if i sent drug czar van haaften a batch of brownies or an omelet he would allow me to buy cold medicine without having id? hmmm... do we have any eggs?

anyway. what was i talking about? ah yes. cold medicine. so i had to buy second rate cold medicine. this stuff sucks. its got me on pins and fucking needles, my friends. i can't compelte a thought even if i wanted to, i am random and all over the place. i have watched like seven hours of television and i don't know what i've been watching.

however, i have seen a couple of really disturbing commercials.

• there's a new quizno's commercial for some sort of sandwich, some prime rib something or other. that's not the point. the point is, the last part of the commericial features two girls talking about how girls love meat. this one chick, she says, 'it has a lot of meat. that's what a girl needs, a lot of meat.' omg. and then she laughs like she's choking or she's like part donkey, i'm not sure. girls, we may need meat, but we don't need to advertise it. dumb bitches.
  
• clearblue preggers tests advertises on mtv (yeah, i know. i'm regressing. HUSH.) but the tagline for their newest test cracks me up: 'the most advanced piece of technology you will ever pee on.' my first issue with this commercial? they say the word pee. i don't think i've ever heard that on tv, at least on a commercial. that's just weird. and second, how do they know i'm not wizzing on flat screen tvs? ipods? handheld gps units? cell phones? that's just it. they don't. they're assuming a lot. and you know what happens when you go assuming things? it makes an ass out of u and ming, who ever the hell ming is, i don't know.

i'm so sad that my fish are sick. i'm such a bad fish parent. :( roger's affect is improving, and adolf is moving around a bit more, but petey and bruiser are covered in 'salt' and i'm sure that otto is as well, but he's mostly white and therefore it's harder to see on him. i feel so bad. tomorrow i'm going to change out some of their water, and then on wednesday and again on friday they get more blue treatment. poor, poor fishies.

i think i'm tired. i'm going to bed. maybe not. i don't know. i'm bored. and my medicine is wearing off. where's the nyquil?

gnite. love, superhasasorethroatandrunnynosejanel... boohoo :(

someone has to pay for all these labels.

and now you know why it costs so much to fly. i work for this company.

and we know why you fly. the side of our planes prolly says 'airplane.'

hehehe....

this is going to sell TONS of cars.

or why white boys don't rap. i'm not sure. hehehe...

wolf blitzer. boo.

i should have named my cats after islands. watch this. it's funny.

if armageddon is upon us, i choose bruce willis.

have you heard about this? this is making the rounds on some of the news sites today. i wasn't aware until the gran massa champ pointed out that i wasn't going to live past the ripe old age of 56. but i'm down with that. really, that's okay. as sporadically as i seem to be working anyway, i won't have a whole lot of retirement to collect.

so omg. there's a giant asteroid coming towards the earth. mankind as we know it is going to end. if we're going to sin, better get it out of our systems in the next 29 years cuz after that we're all going to be charbroiled chunks of charcoal, sister, floating around in the atmosphere radiating neon and carbon and glycol and magnesium and shit, glowing in the dark.

but wait... haven't we heard this story before? in fact, wasn't it a movie? wasn't it a huge hollywood blockbuster? oh yeah... that's right. remember this?

so now, apparently, the un is all up in arms about what to do about this giant ass rock the size of texas flying (really slowly, if it's going to land in 2036) at earth.

they should consult me. i know what to do. i say give bruce willis a call. dude's got experience. he knows what to do. finally. he can put some of that bad acting background to work and put us out of our misery. because armageddon fucking sucked. and what kind of man makes ben affleck cry? really. (harry! no harry, don't do it! *sob* *tear*)

strap ol' bruce to a rocket and send him up there to do the work he was born to do. because the man hasn't done shit well since moonlighting. that'll give that little punk ashton something to aspire to, now won't it?

word.

(if you would like less-slanted information on this asteroid, click here. or here. or here. don't be one of those spoon-fed assholes that gets all your news from aol for god's sake.)

and the superjanel's OUT.