don't flick the service workers.

more snow. eww. the thing about snow, living up here, is that people just freak out. seriously. i don't mind driving in snow - light snow, heavy snow, whatever - but i like to do it when there aren't too many other jackasses on the road. and living in what is referred to as a "metro" area, i am perpetually surrounded by jackasses. so my drive to work, generally clocked at about 16-20 minutes, becomes an american gladiator-style caged rumble match that lasts at least half an hour. and we don't have nearly the snow they're getting back home. we have like an inch on the ground - and seriously, you'd think it was an all-out freaking blizzard. people are so strange.

so i have this pen. it's a regular ballpoint pen, with the button you push on the end to make the pen part come out. except this pen, you push the ballpoint thing and the thing comes out and then goes right back in. it's not a trick pen, although i'm finding it about as frustrating. what's really funny about this pen that will not stay up or out is that it's a cialis pen that i swiped from the doctor's office. so maybe it is a trick pen. hahaha...

last night the bee and i had to make a trip to tar-jay. i ♥ tar-jay. generally i go in there for one thing, like soap or something, and come out with 200$ in absolute crap that i don't really need. (the same goes for waldoworld, but i don't talk about that because just talking about waldoworld makes my blood pressure sky rocket.) but anyway, we went to tar-jay because i need a bra to sleep in. (do you guys know how much my boobs hurt? i mean, hurt. we're not talking like pms-"oh, i'm sore" type pain, we are talking "omfg, it hurts to lie down, it hurts in the shower, it just plain freaking hurts.")

anyway. so the bee and i are in the intimate apparel section of the store, and he's snickering because he's in the bra section and there is this rack of maternity and nursing bras. and those are the most comfortable looking things i have ever seen in my life. no joke here, they look soft and warm and comfy. they're not much on the attractive side, mind you, but in this kind of pain, i don't really care. but i couldn't' bring myself to purchase off that rack - instead i bought some sort of sports bra, some boob-crushing thing. and then, i forgot them in the car last night. so i'm just as sore as ever. but i'm thinking i'm going to go back today and exchange it for the really comfy looking one and just not think about the rack from which i'm buying it.

and smells. let's discuss smells, shall we? i've always had what i consider an overdeveloped sense of smell; ask nigel. i can smell her farts before she lets them. but last night, our indian (dot indian) neighbors were cooking. and then smell was just permeating our apartment so bad with the scent of curry, i couldn't take it. it was making me vomit. i have a poor relationship with indian food and the scent of curry anyway, but this was absolutely repulsive. we had to leave for a little while (hence the trip to tar-jay) to escape it. and all the while, the bee's like, 'it's not that bad, i don't know what you're taking about, i don't smell anything.' thankfully it was gone this morning when i got up; i don't think i could have handled much more. and its not like i can go over there and knock on their door to tell them their food is making me yak. :(

oh! and dreams. let me tell you about some of the bizarre dreams i've been having. i dreamt that my brother and i were in new york, eating at a quizno's. and no matter how many times i tried to tell the guy behind the counter that i wanted a salad, he kept insisting i wanted a cheeseburger. (it was almost reminiscent of the billy goat cafe - "cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger!") so because he wasn't listening to me, i was growing increasingly frustrated and took it out on him by flicking him in the forehead with my index finger. it was a nice, solid thump. but he was so distressed that he called out his manager, who apparently in the state of new york has the same power as a judge and jury, and i was sentenced to time in jail for flicking the service worker. how fucking weird is that?

i'm at work. it's incredibly slow and i like it that way. i'm going to go get some ice. (out of the machine, not off the parking lot.) i'm off in a few hours, which is not good, because the bee and i are headed to chariton to have a sit down with his parentals. his mom still hasn't called him back since she blew up at him the other day. pretty good parenting skills, eh? yeah, i'm definitely impressed.

okay. i'm out.

obama and my momma

can you believe it's not even noon, i'm not even out of bed, and i already have advice to share with you? that's because i'm a goddamn genius, gump.

i had the weirdest fucking dream EVER last night. do let me expand...

setting: family vacation, me and the fam and some people i don't even know at this weird little shop in an expensive little touristy town. brothers and i are shopping for touristy things when i find the coolest pair of off-white snake skin print leather pants. (HEY. it's my damn dream, you shut the hell up.) they're my size, they fit perfect, they're priced accordingly and as such i MUST have them.

we're perusing the goods when i find myself face to face with the wife of presidential candidate barack obama, michelle. how exciting. i think i may vote for your husband, i say. oh, thanks, she says. why don't you tell him?

and there he is. i'm holding off-white leather pants and discussing the upcoming presidential election with barack obama. weird. he invites us to dinner. well isn't that just the bees knees?

i run out to the van (yes, we're driving the herd around in a *van*) to share the news - we're having dinner with obama and my momma. except there are a lot of people chasing me and i don't know why. the saleslady, the dudes in black suits with the sunglasses - i have no idea wtf is going on except maybe this is like the pre-dinner warm up to make sure we're all hungry and no food goes to waste.

nope. i'm still holding the pants, which i haven't paid for. i get dragged back into the store, i pay for the pants. my momma won't go to dinner with obama (she thinks he is the signal of the coming of the apocolypse) but i do.

and that man can put down some shots.

so. the moral of the story is: pay for any goods you may be holding before you attempt to eat dinner with a presidential candidate. getting tackled by the secret service is NO FUN. even in your sleep.

the end.

cross my heart, i'm not on drugs

my dreams are getting weirder and weirder. and i'm not [currently] on any hallucinogenics. last night i dreamt that my parents were angry with me because they were sleeping on an air mattress in the breezeway. i don't know what this had to do with me, necessarily, but there was definitely hostility in the air. i felt guilty when i woke up and i hadn't even done anything wrong.



i'm proud of my 101/1001. i think that will be fun to complete. i'm going to set up a running tabulation on my sidebar so i don't lose track of time or goals. by posting it on my blog, i've already completed one. woot!

i'm at job #2 today. worked at the whippity dippity yesterday for hours and hours on end, it seemed. all the people i enjoy working with are leaving for school, so it's going to be the basic crew come the end of the month. we were slow as crap last night; i let one employee go early (on a friday night - wtf?!) and we closed up shop basically right on the button. but it's fair week and nationals week and all sorts of fun stuff; just nothing too close to the whippity dippity.

i got the sweetest card in the mail yesterday from libbeth; i loved it. i love mail. well, good mail. mail like that from gmac kind of sucks my nut. i miss her and her little family and her doggies. they're so cute. the family is cute. well, the doggies are cute too.



have you ever noticed how much the burger king and the quaker oatmeal guy look alike? it's kind of scary. check this out...

scary isn't it? those dudes are brothers; they've gotta be.

omg. there's got to be something more productive i can do with my time.

i don't even like jelly donuts.

i think my dad gave me food poisoning. i told him happy belated father's day, he gave me e. coli. that's awesome. i'm never going to be late with a card ever again, i swear. next time it may be ebola or some other flesh rotting disease that starts with an "e". i can't think of anymore right now, but i'm sure they exist.

so last night, i had this dream that keanu reeves was at my parents house for dinner. my mom was cooking and i was infatuated with our guest, which i have been since 1988 and "bill and ted's excellent adventure." my mom kept giving him the stink eye and told me that she "knows what this guy is all about and he's no good. don't listen to a word he says; he lies." apparently keanu/ted and my mom aren't kosher. so after dinner we went to the races in osky. we were late getting there and they wouldn't let us in, only keanu/ted. so i had to watch from the outside and i was sitting with andy crawford, who was meowing and marking some sort of score card/betting sheets covered with small pictures of jelly donuts. each donut he colored meant something but he wouldn't tell me what.

i have no idea what any of that means. and i really despise jelly donuts, they're just gross. jelly goes on toast, not in my pastries, damn it.

so tonight nigel and snackmaster bob and the chil'ens came to the raging metropolis that is corydon, where we're quietly progressive and moderately backwards. we had dinner at one of four restaurants (if they can be called that) that specialize in heavily fried food. my stomach is in dismay at the moment. it didn't help that we went to the playground and jumped on the footbridge for an hour; i think i might vomit. it was 943 degrees outside and i was running around like a retard.

i haven't been to that playground in years. the high school shop class built it my freshman year; i was not a part of that, obviously, as i nearly failed shop class in junior high, but i enjoyed the playground for four years after its completion. it was "the" place to go to get injured or make out in the pitch ass dark while drinking mad dog 20/20 and boone's farm strawberry hill. and no one gets injured quite like the janel, let me tell you. i have a permanent lump on the head from trying to climb the spaceship in the dark. at least it wasn't a water tower or a grain silo.... that time.

i leave for charlotte next tuesday, i think. i can't remember. i'm looking forward to going. i'm going to be poor, so i plan on panhandling in the chicago airport on my layover. if you see a well dressed curly haired chick with too much carry on luggage offering to shine shoes in terminal 1 next tuesday morning, that's me. give me a dollar, just because i'm cute and because i can't shine shoes for shit. i don't even know what i'm going to be doing with libbeth and the family. maybe i won't need money. maybe i'll just be holding down her sofa, which is pretty much what i do at home. in which case, dollars are not necessary. but i at least have to have the dollars to buy my mom a magnet in return for watching my kittehs. she's like a kitteh surrogate mom; they love her almost more than they love me.

i haven't flown in ages; not since last november when the fam and i went on our vegas vacation. for some reason, it seems like the only thing they remember from that trip is when mom bought me the six-foot whale dick full of kamikaze and hurricane and then they took me to the buffet where i proceeded to call the workers bitches for not putting out more crab legs. WE WERE THERE FOR FOUR DAYS AND THIS IS ALL ANYONE REMEMBERS. but in my own defense, mom spent like 20$ on that drink. i was obligated to finish it.

i love airplanes. i love the sounds and the feeling and that thing i get in the pit of my stomach at take off. i love, love, love turbulence and saying freaky things to the people around me just so i can watch that look they get on their face, like "does she know something i don't? am i going to die?" i adore airports. i miss my job so much i can't fathom getting another one (or at least that's what i tell myself.) but i do miss our adorable little regional jets. and getting to be a raging lunatic bitch to passengers because that's just what we do when you walk up to our counter. i do miss that. :( but i'm pretty much a transportation junkie, because i love the trains that go by my mom's house at all hours of the day and night. riding the train to connecticut was awesome. and i'm always up for a road trip, even if it's just to the us border.

so the toga party pictures are up and available for public viewing. i was late to work this morning just so i could make sure that there was nothing too incriminating. i was actually pretty tame on saturday, truth be told. but i always like to skim the photographic evidence just to be sure.

the guy i was writing about the last time i wrote (i don't remember when that was) keeps calling. and now he calls me sweetie. yuk. knock that crap off. i'm not your sweetie. and the dj that i thought i was just friends with? yeah, he's not leaving me alone either. i'm going to start turning off my cell phone and start using it for emergencies only.

that's not going to happen. nigel, you can relax. i just enjoy making hollow threats.

laundry calls. i hope my new tshirt gets here before i leave for charlotte. dude! i'm revenue! i can travel in my pj's if i want to - that's awesome. :P

TGIF! (only it's monday, and i'm really not that happy about it...)

the world is short a few of these, thanks to me driving the damn speed limit. boo to the iowa state patrol!

i used to know a woman named janet. she was a little strange, a few fries short of a happy meal but a very nice person with a big heart. janet loved animals, and had an odd little concoction in her third floor apartment: a blind dog, a cat with three legs and another cat that had no hair. (and it was supposed to have hair.) but janet also loved butterflies. she was part of a program sponsored by iowa state university that tracked the migration of different types of butterflies. she would spend hours every night counting butterflies outside our apartment complex, making notes in her notebook about the number of butterflies she saw and odd butterfly behavior.

so today, i'm driving to work. it's a beautiful sunny day and i'm driving the speed limit because it's a holiday weekend (and i can't afford another speeding ticket). when you drive the speed limit, you can see the bugs that are going to splat on the front end of your car before they actually hit. i hit a shit ton of butterflies today. i wonder if that will throw off janet's migration statistics? with every one i hit, i felt the need to call her and let her know her count was going to be off...

andy fales is going to kansas city. fuck you eddy. at least i got my camera.

this morning i was watching the news, standing in the kitchen eating poptarts. my favorite newscaster andy fales is leaving. what reason do i now have to watch channel 13 sports? i'm bummed. and i'm especially sad to learn that he's going to kansas city, where eddy is. we did not agree to this and i nearly wanted to call my attorney, but i figured there was little he could do to remedy the situation. what's really upsetting is that i'm never stepping foot in the kansas city city limits ever again, which means that i'll never get to see andy fales again.

he's gone the way of gary amble, my all-time forever favorite weatherman, who also ended up in kansas city. bastards!

gary amble has not aged a day. he has looked like this since i was 12.

so i've figured out what's wrong with roger: he has dropsy. koko didn't even help me with the diagnosis; i solved it on my own. unfortunately, with the stage that roger has evolved to, there is not much that can be done to cure dropsy. which upsets me greatly. looking at his symptoms, i can see that this is what killed my beloved adolph. but roger probably won't make it through the night. roger was the reason i got a fishtank in the first place.

but i still have norman. until the tank of death and doom claims him too and then i'm going to be done with goldfish for a while. like four days.

tomorrow is my older younger brother's birthday (if that makes sense). he's going to be 23. i got him the coolest present ever, he's going to love it. when i remember to do so, i find great gifts. i wonder though at times if i'm experiencing early onset of senility because i'm not able to remember things like i used to. or maybe i'm just too wrapped up in me to notice the people around me. like it just dawned on me that i didn't call my stepmom on mother's day. i know she's not my mom but she keeps my dad from driving me crazy and i should thank her for that from time to time. my grandma's husband's birthday was earlier this month and i didn't do a single thing for that either.

i suck.

i closed at the ice cream store tonight. business actually picked up and we had a good night. i worked with snackmaster bob and a high school kid, just graduated. she's nice, but talkative. the question i pose is this: was i that opinionated and loud at 18? did i think i knew everything all the time? was i never wrong, like this girl? if that's the case, i have become quite dumb in the last 9 years. i guess i could approach it that i've gotten even smarter (as if that's even possible!) because i know now that i really don't know anything.

in 27 days, i will be 10,000 days old. how's that for exciting. i want a cake for that holiday, damn it. a cake that says "happy 10,000-day asshole." i wonder if hy-vee would make that for me?

10,000 candles is a lot of candles. i'm going to need a fan to blow these suckers out.

i expect gifts. it's not everyday that a girl turns 10,000.

i wish there were more glow in the dark stars on my ceiling.

i had the weirdest dreams last night; and lots of them. about people i don't really want to dream about and situations i'd rather not relive. i woke up crying, not wanting to feel any of that again. but even in my dream, the most difficult part was the division of the stuff, the separation of me and him from the items we had accumulated in our togetherness. in my dream i called him by the nickname we had for each other and even in my dream, i received the same blank stare i received in real life. i wonder when that will ever fade away. not related, i also had a dream where i was counting tons and tons of one-dollar bills in my wallet (am i stripper in my dreams? hmmm...) and i found a two-dollar bill in the middle of this stack of ones and it made my day. and then i sold it to my mom.

i have no idea what that means. wtf?

i'm tired. i'm going to bed.

recliners and recurring dreams.

wtf is wrong with me? i've been having this dream for a while now: i'm driving in the fog - a really thick, dense fog - and i can hardly see. the road is an old blacktop road, the edges are rotting away in the weather. and i'm speeding. crazy fast. i can't see 10 feet in front of me nor 10 feet behind me. and lined up on the side of the road are people in recliners. i mean, right on the edge of the road. so close i'm wincing because i think i may hit them.

i have no idea what that means.

today is our coworker's super secret tons of fun ice cream party in honor of her last day because it is a well known fact that ice cream = fun - death, to define the situation mathematically. depending on how you look at things, death is interchangeable with chuck norris. or was it prince? i'm not sure anymore... that whole x + y = z thing is confusing enough but make one of those variables equal to ice cream and i'm all confused.

so i'm off to the dutch village, the land of everything holy, overpriced, overrated, misspelled and stuck in the back of the closet. because i love me some dutch people. with any luck, i'll be rewarded for my hard work by getting to go out with nigel this evening in the raging metropolis 17 miles to my north. but snackmaster bob will prolly put the kebash on that, real quick like. he's sort of a fun hater sometimes.

superjanel OUT.