I'm a lot more effed up than I thought...

Like most people, for as long as I can remember, I have had a lot of trouble remembering my dreams. When I was a kid, the only ones that stuck with me when I woke up were nightmares. When I was about 12, my mom got me a dreamcatcher and had it blessed by a family friend who happens to be a High Priestess in a Wiccan coven. All my nightmares and dreams went away.

Until recently.

And let me tell you, if dreams are a wish your heart makes... I need to be committed. This shit's fucked up, yo.

Sometime in October I had a dream that BDubz and I were floating on a couch (Because couches float, duh?) in the middle of a flood in Fargo. We had a fish tank (With fish in it... we like a challenge.) and a Pug with us (Supposedly my subconscious thinks these are two things that we absolutely, positively, without question must save in a flood). We were trying to switch couches, but every time we got into the other couch, it started to sink (Jackass couch).

Then a little while later I had a dream that BDubz and Voice of God were mad at me because we didn't have any spoons in the apartment (But there was like 10,000 knives... how ironic?*). To which I replied that if they didn't use all the spoons to cook, then maybe we would have spoons in the house (Apparently lack of spoons is a sensitive subject in our household...).

Another dream had Voice of God shaved all his dreads off except for a small patch in the front above his forehead. And sang lady Marmalade with three of my athletes at a benefit concert (Makes total sense, right? Right??).

Last night I had a dream that we owned two cats (Which wouldn't be weird if BDubz didn't HATE cats) and my cat turned into a person at night (...Um. Yeah.).

I have no earthly idea why I have started remembering my dreams. I am even more confused and utterly disappointed with the fact that my imagination can't help me out with a dream about laying on a beach in Cabo San Lucas while Adam Lambert feeds me grapes and sings to me and Ryan Reynolds bubs lotion on my back.**

*I know this is backwards from the original lyrics and that it has nothing to do with real irony. Get off my back.
**Of course my imagination would turn this into Adam throwing salami at me while Ryan decides to use his feet instead of his hands.***
***And we'd be in Iraq or Afghanistan in the middle of a war zone.****
****And Jack Bauer would be involved somehow.

The Best Moment of My Life

I recently went and signed myself up for a formspring.me account and I have one thing to say.

You guys are weird.

I know I can be pretty ridiculous and I have little to no shame/dignity left, but seriously people? What the hell kind of questions are these? Sexiest piece of lingerie? My signature “moves” in bed? Absurd.

I spent a lot of time toiling with whether or not to be serious or facetious in my answers, but one question totally and honestly had me stumped…

“What has been the best moment of your life to date?”

Holy soul searching Batman!

Immediately about three different things had popped into my mind… The second I finished presenting and defending my senior thesis. Moving into my first apartment on my own. Realizing my bra size was a whole cup bigger in Target bras.

But are any of those really the best moment of my life? I mean, I have had a lot of moments in my twenty something years. So what if I finished my thesis? I’m not the only one who had to do the damn thing. Moving into an apartment? Big deal; I’ve moved into three others since then. And no matter what the tag says, the girls still confirm my membership to the Itty Bitty Tittie Committee.

So I began to dig really deep into the gray matter beneath my skull to come up with that one moment that was so mind-blowing, so magnificent, and so absolutely and completely fantastical that it trumped all others.

Thinking of that one moment is a lot of pressure, people.

It was over fourteen hours later, but I finally found my answer. It was hiding within the quote, "Life is not measured by breaths we take in a moment, but by moments that take our breaths away.” I know that is completely cliché and cheesy, but it is. so. true.

There are so many moments in my life that really were so mind-blowing, so magnificent, and so absolutely and completely fantastical that they make all the awful and shit-tacular moments obsolete.

Like the time we brought home our first puppy, Rufus, and he immediately pooped on the carpet in the living room. But he was so cute and we were so happy to have him we all just laughed.

Or when my grandparents celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary and you could see they were still so madly in love with each other that you couldn’t help but smile with them the whole night.

Then there was the time my brother brought home a paper heart from his second grade class that prompted “Something I will love forever is…” and he had filled in “my sister Jeney.”

Live your life one moment at a time, because otherwise you will miss something. As Cesare Pavese said in another cliché and overused quote, “We do not remember days, we remember moments. The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.”

Tell me, what is your best moment?

Tattoos-Day : A New Chapter

Ink #11: Good Fortune

Design: Dragon Fly

Location: Right Inside Ankle

When: Summer 2009

Pain Scale: Eight out of ten

Artist: Joey Drada

Story:

Sad day… this is the last Tattoos-day :-( However! If you, or anyone you know, is interested in featuring their own ink for a Tattoos-day, shoot me an e-mail at jeney dot anderson at gmail dot com.

I got this one right before I left for Fargo. I wanted to say goodbye to Joey and Mr. Max – and I wanted to get something to represent the newest chapter in my life. Moving to Fargo was one of the biggest transformations of my life. I moved away from family, friends, and everything I knew. As much as it scared the piss out of me, I knew it would be for the best.

There’s a story about Dragonflies that goes something like this:

In a little pond, in the muddy water under the lily pads, there lived a little water beetle in a community of water beetles. They lived a simple and comfortable life in the pond with few disturbances and interruptions.

Once in a while, sadness would come to the community when one of their fellow beetles would climb the stem of a lily pad and would never be seen again. They knew when this happened; their friend was dead, gone forever. Then, one day, one little water beetle felt an irresistible urge to climb up that stem. However, he was determined that he would not leave forever. He would come back and tell his friends what he had found at the top.

When he reached the top and climbed out of the water onto the surface of the lily pad, he was so tired, and the sun felt so warm, that he decided he must take a nap. As he slept, his body changed and when he woke up, he had turned into a beautiful blue tailed dragonfly with broad wings and a slender body designed for flying. So, fly he did! And, as he soared he saw the beauty of a whole new world and a far superior way of life to what he had never known existed. Then he remembered his beetle friends and how they were thinking by now he was dead. He wanted to go back to tell them, and explain to them that he was now more alive than he had ever been before. His life had been fulfilled rather than ended. But, his new body would not go down into the water. He could not get back to tell his friends the good news. Then he understood that their time would come, when they, too, would know what he now knew. So, he raised his wings and flew off into his joyous new life!

Moving to Fargo was my lily pad. And although I may not be able to go back to my old life, I know it is all for the better.

Fin.

Tattoos-Day : Live it Up

Ink #10: Just Live Your Life

Design: The text “Live Hard, Rock On” with a faded star

Location: Left Outside Hip/Buttocks

When: Summer 2009

Pain Scale: Six out of Ten

Artist: Mr. Max

Story:

I had been tossing the idea for this one around in my head for a while before I got it. It wasn’t until my friend Biz got into a horrible car accident that I finally decided exactly what I wanted.

Biz is a beautiful, talented, wonderful person. She was always the girl I could go to for anything – and I mean anything. I have a lot of good friends that would do anything for me, but none of them would understand half the crazy shit I went to Biz for.

I am a huge fan of the quote, “Don’t take life too seriously. You’ll never get out alive.” It’s such a true statement it’s almost laughable. I like to think I was living my life to the fullest, but it wasn’t until Biz was on the brink of death that I realized how much I worried about trivial, stupid things. You’ve just got to live your life hard and rock the fuck on!

She told me she wanted to get the star constellation for Gemini on her outside hip. I didn’t want to take her thunder away from her; because she will get better and she will get that tattoo. But that is the reason for the star and the placement of this one.

Emotional Vomit

I am always the strong one.

I am the one who holds back tears so I don't look like the vulnerable one.

I am the one who pretends nothing happened so you have a solid, sturdy shoulder to cry on.

I am the one who makes sure you are okay before even thinking about how I feel.

I am the one who will pull you from the wreckage while I'm limping on my broken leg and bleeding from my abdomen.

I am the one who will look death in the face if it means you get to live.

I can't be that person this time.

I apologize for expelling my emotional crap all over your reader. But I can't hide behind my sarcasm and awful humor right now.

I can't be the strong one. I need to be allowed to be the weak one.

Just this once.

TMI Thursday - My First Period

I got my first period on the twelfth birthday. This sucked in and of itself.

The fact that I got my first period when I was driving two hours to my grandmother's house in Indiana with my father and two younger brothers (and only them because my mother couldn't get off work) made it the most memorable period of my life.

We made a pit stop at the same gas station we always did for gas and poddy breaks. That was when I discovered I had, in fact, entered womanhood. My saving grace was that I at least knew why I had suddenly started to bleed from my who-ha. I also knew that I had to do something about it unless I wanted to ruin the new jeans I just got that morning as well as the back seat of our Ford Taurus all while eliciting screams of "Jeney's got red stuff on her butt!" from my little shit of a brother.

Analyzing the situation, I figured that bizzare toilet paper trick my mom told me about would probably not work -- we still had 45 minutes of driving left. I thought I could buy some of those weird diaper things out of the dispenser in the bathroom... but I had been twelve years old for a total of about four hours at this point, so I didn't have any money that wasn't entrapped in an envelope with some cheesy card and confetti.

It was then that I came to the stark realization that I had to ask my dad for a quarter to get a pad from the magic girl products vending machine. It went something like this:

Me: "Dad, can I have a quarter?"

Dad: "What do you need a quarter for?"

Me: "Can I just have one, please?" ::turn on daddy's little girl charm::

Dad: "I don't think so. You're not going to get anything out of those gumball machines. You're brothers will throw a fit."

Me: "I really, really need a quarter. Um...It's my birthday!"

Dad: "You'll get presents at Grandma's."

Me (giving up the vague approach): "Dad. I'm bleeding."

Dad: "We have band-aids in the car?"

Me: "DAD! I. Am. Bleed. Ing."

Dad: "Well, where are you blee... Oh! Shit!"

Needless to say I got my quarter. Eight of them, in fact. And the most awkward 45 minute drive of my life.

I'm Just WYRing - Ageism

Out of the whopping 4 people who voted on the last I'm Just Sayin'... seems like doing both a Would You Rather and I'm Just Sayin' is the favorite idea.

So now I need a new clever name for Wednesday posts. Anyone have something for me?

***

I know I am young and stupid. I know that although I am a 20-something, my physical appearance would sometimes suggest that I am still in high school. That is no excuse, however, for you old-timing bastards to treat me like I'm your kid.

On top of that, just because the woman whose place I took was a sweet old woman who let you walk all over her does not mean I will be the same. Don't try to take advantage of me.

Just because I look like a student does give you permission to demand I give water to the volleyball team because they are sweating bullets while signing autographs. I am not an athletic trainer- I don't even know where their damn water bottles are! If you had any tact, you would have asked me whether or not is was possible to get the girls some water. Hell, maybe you would suggest to the higher-ups that air conditioning be installed in the facility.

You would know this if you fucking worked in the athletic department!

I am not going to work from 8:00am - 8:00pm simply because your team is traveling tomorrow and you are having a break down. The team's bags are packed and every single piece of equipment they own is clean. I have also watched the same highlights on SportsCenter at least 5 times each today... what more do you want me to do?

I am not a kid nor am I a sweet old woman. I am a jaded, pissed off twenty something.

I'm just sayin'.

***

Soooo.... lovely readers.... this brings me to my first WYR.

Considering the predicament above, would you rather:

a) Wear a diaper in public and be limited to screaming and crying when you want to communicate.

or

b) Become prematurely grey/bald and still have to wear a diaper in public and be limited to screaming and crying when you want to communicate.

Letters to an Old Life, Pt 1

Dear Indiana,

It has been thirty-nine days since we last spoke (not that I am counting or anything). I must say, so far, I am content and happy with Fargo. The city has treated me well and I love my new friends, job, and life. I'm actually happy with myself for once. But, damnit. There are things about you I just cannot let go of.

I miss living with Vic and Clint. I miss my little bedroom with too much shit in it. I would give anything to be sitting on Vic's leather couch watching the Food Network, drinking High Life or Schlitz, eating queso, and listening to them talk about Giada's breasts. I miss running with Clint. I miss watching True Blood with Vic. I miss quoting Super Troopers with them at inappropriate moments. I still laugh when I think about playing Presidents and Assholes with them and Will... I miss them.

As much as I bitched about your lack of quality dining... I miss Martin's Sidedoor Deli and the wonderland that was salad bars, sushi, and deli sandwiches. I crave Uptown Kitchen and the orgasm in a tortilla they called their "breakfast burrito". I would literally murder someone for a veggie burrito bowl from Chipotle right now. Nothing sounds better at this moment than an Oaken Bucket cheeseburger or Barnaby's pizza with cheese sauce... or even some fish and chips with a Guiness on tap from Fiddlers.

I miss my old friends. I want to play beer pong with Ann Jan one more time. I want to hear Katie call me "Fargo" with her own voice rather than on my Facebook wall. I want to play with Joe Joe again. I want to be at Tuesday Trivia with Becky, Isaiah, Audrey, and Troy. I want to be shit-faced in Niles with Adam and Ben. Don't get me wrong, I love my new friends. But right now I want nothing more than to be eating Kim's Taco Dip with the manager crew while watching the Notre Dame game.

I miss all the sketchy, smelly, sticky, grossness that came with your dive bars. I miss the pitchers of Long Island Iced Tea from Finnie's. I miss huge beers from the Backer. I miss the Woo-Woos from Club Fever. I miss the awful decisions that were made whenever we were at one of these establishments. I miss the terrible music, sticky floors, and sweaty bodies that we hated when we were there... but craved when we weren't.

I miss you, Indiana. You were never really good for me and we are definitely better as friends. But sometimes I really wish I was with you again.

Till next time,
Jeney

Peace out, bitches!

I'm in a mood. You know... one of those moods where you kind of just want to sit in your bathtub and eat chocolate chip cookie dough and drink brewskis while watching Super Troopers over and over again?

No? It's just me?

Well, shit.

I suppose there that annoying cliche silver lining, though. In an attempt to eradicate my piss poor attitude, I have started planning out a winter traveling extravaganza! Since all six of the people everyone I know currently lives all over this great continent, I have decided to take two weeks off during the winter months and visit ALL OF THEM!

That's right, I am purchasing a one-way place ticket to wherever I decide to start, renting a car, and high-tailing it all the way back up to effin' North Dakota where I will probably hang myself because I will have enjoyed life and friendship and all that crap so much on my trip that the -80 degree weather in Fargo will drive me to end my life.

I kind of want to start in Las Vagas where I will totally play the part of the Ugly Friend while super-uber makes-you-want-to-vomit gorgeous Colleen gets us into every VIP Club and Playboy party that my liver can handle.

Then I'll for sure be stopping in Arizona to see Vic (where I am sure I will drink even more) then swing over to Colorado to visit Clint and Tracy.

From there I plan on taking a twister to Lawrence, KS where I will proceed to get shit-tarded at The Hawk with old intern, Sugar Tits.

Then I'll end with the obligatory family stuff over in Illinois/Indiana/Wisconsin. There is a possible drinking stop in Madison, though...

Click to make it bigger.

While this is all fine ad dandy, I found myself wondering what could make it better? Oh, I know!

Meeting you guys!!!

How great would it be to having a tryst with Just a Girl? Show JP my ink in person? Let me know if you want me to work you into my little adventure!

TMI Thursday - Oh Shit!

It’s time for TMI Thursday, brought to you by LiLu. As she always says, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Today's TMIT was inspired by my muse, Just a Girl.

When I was in college, there was a girl us student managers absolutely loved to hate. She was an athletic trainer for the fooseball team and did a lot more than just medical treatments for the guys.

She was a Class-A bitch, too. One of those "I'm-the-shit" kind of girls who in actually is the ugly friend? You know those girls. They photo shop their facebook pictures to make themselves look thinner and tanner while their friends are all distorted?

This is a story about her unfortunate run-ins with body fluids - and how she got the nick-name "Oh Shit."

Story #1: Poop Check

Setting: House Party

Oh Shit's Level of Drunk: 11 out of 10

Ever been so drunk that you couldn't tell if you shit your pants or not? Well, she was. There are no words I can string together that would give this story justice. You just had to be there. However, below is the conversation I witnessed:

Oh Shit: "I think I shit my pants."

Slutbag Friend: "No way! Are you sure?"

OS: "I think so..." ::reached down pants to check in the middle of the room::

SF: "That's gross, ********."

OS: ::pulls hand of of pants only to discover she did, in fact, shit her pants:: "Oh Shit!" ::runs shit-covered limb THROUGH HER HAIR::

Oh shit, indeed.

Story #2: Puke-tacuklar

Setting: Local Dive Bar

Oh Shit's Level of Drunk: 8 out of 10

It was a Saturday night after a home football game. Everyone who was involved in the football team was drinking their faces off to forget the fact that they had to do it all again come Monday.

One player had a little too much to drink and proceeded to do what any red-blooded kid who just slammed 260,o82 beers on an empty stomach does: vomited. Everywhere. On himself, on the floor, and in the cup he was holding. Afterward, he placed the cup on the table he was sitting at and walked away like nothing happened. (Who does that?!)

Being the ever so pleasant person drunkard I am, I stood up and began to warn people as they walked by that there was a bit of a slippery spot on the ground -- "DON'T SLIP!!! WATCH OUT! THERE'S VOMIT HERE!!!"

Until she walked by. It was at this moment in time I felt it was appropriate to take a long, slow drink to preoccupy my mouth.

I swear this seriously happened in slow motion. She sauntered by sashaying her non-existent hips.

Her left heel hit the puke.

She began to slip.

She grabbed the table to steady herself. (Now here is where I need to remind you that Pukey McFootball Player left his vomit-filled cup on said table.)

The table didn't hold. And as she fell into the source of her slip on the ground, the glass left on the table fell onto her.

She. Was. Soaked. In. Vomit.

It was glorious.

Oh shit, indeed.

I'm Just Sayin' Wednesday - Get Pissed!

I have no idea if the stars are aligned all janky or if there is a disturbance in the force this week. But why the hell is everyone so damn angry?

First, Michael Jordan decides to give a few snarky remarks during his Hall of Fame Enshrinement speech.



Then, tennis stars start going all batshit and throwin’ down all sorts of Ess-Bombs and Eff-Bombs at the US Open!





Theeeeeeen, Kanye West does what he does best.

My coaches have been crabby all week. I’ve had my own panties (Ew. I just typed the word ‘panties’) in a bunch since Saturday. I can’t even speak to my own mother on the phone without her trying to eat my face through the receiver. Hell, My iPod has been throwing fits at me all week, too!

Apparently we all need a time out. And a drink.

I’m just sayin’.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce...

I know I missed Tattoos-day. And I completely disregarded I’m Just Sayin’ Wednesday. I am also in the process of completely failing at TMI Thursday. I am going to blame this entire lapse on old age. I’m pushing a quarter of a century old and I just can’t keep up with you kids anymore.

I do have some exciting news, though! Since my big move to the Great White North of the U.S., I have finally begun to make friends. (One of them is actually my boyfriend... ::gasp:: Saywhaaaaat?!)

Considering I spend every waking moment I can most of my time with them, I figured I should introduce you! No need to worry, though. They could never replace you guys. They don’t exactly understand my narcissism and awful humor like you do.

So blog friends, meet my real life friends…

Alias: Arkansas

Claim to fame: The first wolf I added to my pack of one.

Talent: Being on my shit list and Guitar Hero.

Drink of choice: Captain and Cherry Coke

Quote: “That’s my shi-at!”

***

Alias: BDubz

Claim to fame: The roommate

Talent: Lapses in judgment that make me snort and Skype

Drink of choice: Malibu with a splash of Dr. Pepper

Quote: “I almost hit someone in my truck… again.”

***

Alias: A.T.

Claim to fame: The Girly-Type Friend

Talent: Garlic Bread that will. Blow. Your. MIND!

Drink of choice: Amaretto and Pepsi

Quote: “I know, right?!”

***

Alias: Sparky

Claim to fame: My Boyfriend Biatch

Talent: He's an athletic trainer... he's good with his hands. (He makes me laugh a lot too… I guess that’s important.)

Drink of Choice: Beer

Quote: “I hope the party you had on my bed last night was worth it.”

***

Real life friends, meet my blog friends...

Go ahead, introduce yourselves!

TMI Thursday - Exposing Myself

I meandered across this little doozey on Little Woman, Little Home and thought, “What the hell? It’s not like I have any shame left…” Vic, I am giving you fair warning not to read this. It will taint your image of me more than Beerwell 2008 did.

So here is the fiftieth post of this blog (yay!), my third post for the week (a record maybe?), my second installation of TMI Thursdays (oh boy!), and your first peek into the wild side of Jeney.

The rules: Tell us 3 things about your sex life. You can make them whatever you want and it doesn't necessarily have to pertain to your current partner (or a partner at all for that matter). You can talk about your likes or dislikes, your kinky fetishes or your secret desires. You can tell us a funny story about the time you were having sex in the woods with your old boyfriend and you both ended up with 1,000 tics. Whatever you want... it’s totally up to you!

The Alpha: This one is super gross and one of the more embarrassing moments of my life. Remember the guy in my worst post ever? Well, after a particularly intoxicating St. Patty’s Day, I let him talk me into going home with him like the stupid slut girl I am. Everything that you would expect happened. Nothing worth writing home about... until he walked out of the bathroom afterward. “Umm. I think you’re bleeding.” Of course! Thank you to Murphy's Law and awful karma, my period started in the middle of the whole thing. FML.

Figure 2.0: Ever since I turned nineteen, my birthdays have been absolute shit-shows. This increased exponentially when I was legally able to celebrate at a designated drinking establishment. One such party ended with me and a boy (duh) who would not. shut. up. I’m not kidding – he talked the whole effin’ time. “Oh my God, you’re so beautiful. You are amazing…blah, blah, blah.” As nice as it is to hear bull shit like that, this constant stream of word vomit was waaay too irritating. After telling him to shut his face twice, I just pushed him off, got dressed, and slept on the couch. I just couldn't handle it.

Lucky Number 3: This one isn’t an experience or even really that embarrassing. It’s the one weakness that literally buckles my knees regardless of my mindset, emotional state of mind, or inebriation level: kisses on my neck. Oh sweet Jesus… sends me to pleasure town every time. This, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and Very Sexy for Him by Victoria Secret and you can have me as a sex slave for life.

Thanks for reading!

I'm Just Sayin' - What Recession?

Well, apparently I have been living under a rock for the past three or four years. ::insert dumb cheerleader-esque giggle here::

Did you know the US economy is falling apart faster than a Kia and we’re actually in a recession?! No way! I sure didn't!

I was actually completely clueless to the fact that less than 15% of 2009 college graduates did so with a job offer (compared to about 25% for the class of 2008 and 50% for the class of 2007*).

Seriously? Holy shit! Where the hell have I been??

I thought a jobs were handed out like candy? I figured everyone who graduates with a Bachelors is automatically handed one. I never knew you had to find them on your own! Whoda thunk?!

Oh boy! I guess I need to go read “Real Life for Dummies”. Aaaand so does this girl.

Ok, Seriously. I’m not that naïve. And if you believed anything I wrote above the line before this one you really should stop reading my blog. You're embarrassing me.

I know the economy sucks and I know I am damn lucky to have a job right now. However! ::ahem:: I fought, sweat, cried, screamed, crawled, and bled for everything I have achieved to this day. I was never handed anything on a silver platter.

I graduated with a 3.2 GPA from a prestigious college I busted my ass to get into. I landed a job straight out of college because I worked damn hard as an intern for them. I bought my own car and am paying for it with my own money. If anything I had to beat someone with a rusty fork to even look at the damn silver platter.

Just because you’ve got a degree and what arguably is a brain does not mean you are entitled to a cushy job. Work at Payless for a couple months if you have to. Or for the love of all that is holy, go sign up for an account on Monster.com.

She’s been looking for a job for 3 months? Big whoop. That kind of dedication reflects her 2.7 GPA**. I have friends who have been looking for jobs since the graduated LAST YEAR. I wonder how much they could sue our college for 15 months of stress?

My grandparents’ and parents’ generations say mine is lazy and we refuse to work for anything. You know what? I agree. We are not going to be handed big positions and rock star jobs just for graduating college.

Get up off your good for nothing, lazy, college educated, 20-something ass and find a god damn job on your own.

I’m just sayin’.

* I got these numbers from the 2009 Commencement Speaker for Saint Mary’s College of Notre Dame. You don’t like them? Well, screw you. Take it up with her.
** I’m not trying to knock people with 2.7 GPAs – just this girl.

Pack Rat and Purge

I have no earthly idea if this sudden onset of sappy-face crap is because I've been alone for three weeks or because Aunt Flo sent her monthly present, but I've been really down all weekend.

How did I resolve this? By watching Dead Like Me on Hulu and throwing away copious amounts of stupid shit I have collected over the past five years.

While packing up my apartment (again) to move (again)*, I've run across a lot of above mentioned stupid shit I kept because I figured it was a way to remember all those "great" memories they are related to.

What the bloody hell was I thinking?! Do any of you know? OK, you can think about it. I'll wait.
....
....
....

Nothing? Seriously? What good are you?!

Jeesh.

Anywhoo -- as I have been tossing out all the faded pictures of high school friends, pressed flowers from dances, cheap jewelery from old boyfriends, and random trinkets that used to make me smile, I've been reflecting on a lot. Way more than you really want to know.

First off, I threw out my "Jimmy Box". This was the box full of things that my high school boyfriend gave me. He was the one I gave my V-card to. He was the one I dated for two years (in high school that equals eternity). He was the one who dumped me when I left for college (I'll blog more about that some other day). For any of you that ever had one of these boxes/relationships, you know what kind of milestone this is. I thought I would cry, chicken out, or even shove his "promise ring" in my pocket. I didn't. I was strong. And he is now laying is a Fargo landfill.

I also tossed out all my old planners from high school and college. I kept these because they were almost like mini diaries. Old memories and notes were scattered all through the pages. My friends wrote dumb things in them too like, "Ashley likes dinosaurs. And Jeney!" These were actually harder to get rid of than the box was.

I purged all of the cards, birthday banners, notes, and other random things most of my college friends and roommates had given me. I came to the conclusion that I have a lot of awesome memories from college -- and most of these things kind of bring back the bad ones. No need to keep them around.

Speaking of cards, I used to keep every single card that was given to me. Birthdays, Christmas, Easter... I even kept all of the "thinking of you" cards my Grandma would send me. I threw the two shoe boxes full of these out, too. I only kept my "going away to college" card from my family, the card the managers gave me for confirmation, and a card Little Shit gave me when he was in the 3rd grade.

I have purged a lot more than what is listed above. A lot more. Like, a pick-up truck worth. But I think those are the most important ones.

It's time for me to move on and become the woman I was meant to grow up to be.

Well, shit.

You can get a hooker and crack for a DOLLAR!

Like any other typical 20-something living on their own in a state they’ve never been to in which they know aproximately one half of a person, I am dead broke. As a result, I bargain shop my ass off. (Litterally. I’ve lost about 3 pounds already.) You may be asking, “Why Jeney, where does one shop so hard they actually shed fat cells?!” To that questions, my friends, I have three words for you: The Dollar Tree.

The glorious thing about the Dollar Tree is that everything is, in fact, priced at one dollar. Unlike Dollar General where products are "generally" a dollar or the Family Dollar where you get the government version of “family discounts” – the Dollar Tree is true to its name.

I have been shopping at the Dollar Tree since I was a wee tike. It has recently been brought to my attention, however, that there are individuals in this nation that have not experienced the wondrous glory that is the Dollar Tree. Two said individuals happened to be my old roommates.

We ventured to the Dollar Tree before heading out for our 4th mexican meal that week. There, I grabbed some razors, shaving cream, and cotton balls ($3.21) then proceeded to leave the building where my roommates where nowhere to be found. Perhaps they are at the car? Nope. Perhaps the wandered into the used record store? No dice. The salon picking up girls? Absolutely not.

They were still in the Dollar Tree running around the aisles as if they were sex-starved seminary students in the red light dictrict. (Okay, so I guess four year olds in a candy store would have been a less crude analogy – but if you knew my roommates you would understand why that was appropriate.) They were absolutely astonished at the products that were available.
“Jeney! You can get a 25 ounce beer mug for a DOLLAR!”

“Jeney! They have whiffle ball bats and balls for a DOLLAR!”

“Jeney, if they have underwear in here I’m going to freak out.”

After a few ‘I can’t take you guys anywhere’s and ‘This is why we can’t have nice things’s – I finally pulled them out of the Dollar Tree. Of course this was only after one of them bought two pairs on sunglasses (for a DOLLAR!).

I miss having adventures with my roommates. They always made things interesting -- for a DOLLAR!

Just a lost soul... seriously.

As I mentioned before, I recently started a new job.

In Fargo, North Dakota. (I know... absurd. Just go with me here.)

So after a 12 hour drive, brats and beer in Madison, Edward (new GPS) making me look like a retarded driver, and a sore ass bone later -- I moved into my new one bedroom apartment.

In Fargo, North Dakota. (Shut up.)

Grant it, I did move out of my parent's house when I was 18 and left for college. I was also technically "on my own" for a year before I moved in my my old roommates. However, there was always a friend I could bum a ride with to save gas or a family friend to invite a starving single 20-something over for dinner. Just SOMEBODY. Now, I'm all alone.

In Fargo, North Dakota. (Damnit all.)

Upon starting my new job, I discovered that I will not be receiving my first paycheck until August 15th. This leaves me with $85.47 to live off of for the next three weeks.

My TV set is sitting on a storage bin and I am using folding chairs as "couches". I also have nothing but jelly, hot dogs, and milk in my fridge. My cabinets? Coffee and peanut butter. I am officially living "on my own" for the first time in my life.

In Fargo, North Dakota. (FML.)

I't not even going to try...

...and be funny about not blogging for so long because I am so thoroughly embarrassed by it.

On the bright side, I do have some good posts lined up for when I actually have internet access outside of my work place including subjects such as:

The codswallop that is my student loans.

Taking my roommates to the Dollar Tree.

Why I cannot do laundry if my roommates are home.

Interns and the stupid shit they do to piss me off.

My tenth tattoo (and the other nine that came before).

In other news, I got a new job! I am moving to North Dakota in ten days! More on that later.
Th-th-th-that’s all (for now) folks!

I wish it was April Fool's...

I had every intention of posting a legit blog yesterday, but I found out late afternoon that one of my best friends from college was in a terrible car accident on the highway.

She hydroplaned while trying to pass a semi, lost control of her car, skidded into the truck and ended upside down in a ditch.

She is currently in critical stable condition -- but things aren't looking good.

Please pray for her, rub a Buddha's belly, light a candle, pour some liquor on the ground, or whatever your faith/spirituality/etc permits for her and her family.

Behind the Eight Ball

I normally don’t like doing meme’s or lists – but Blondie tagged me and I think she's a great gal and her blog kicks ass. So I’m doing this for her!

Also, I wrote this yesterday and never got around to posting it. So let's pretend it's Monday. :-)

8 Things I'm Looking Forward To:
- Spring and summer starting
- Moving into my new apartment
- Running a 10k
- Going to see Bon Jovi with my mom in June
- Getting a new office-mate
- Planning a solo-vacation
- Participating in a panel for a Bold Beauty Conference at the alma mater tonight
- Becoming a wife/mother (This is waaaaay down the road – but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately)

8 Things I Did Yesterday:
- Ran the Race for the Cure 5k in 30 minutes flat
- Went fake-n-baking
- Cleaned the disaster that is my bedroom
- Took an unnecessary nap
- Attempted to finish my roommate’s crocheted slippers
- Officially moved out of the old apartment
- Re-packed my crap in the basement
- Decided I own too much crap and I need to get rid of it all

8 Things I Wish I Could Do:
- Drive stick shift
- Reach the top shelf of the cabinets
- Pay off my student loans
- Live in a state where winter doesn’t last from October to April
- Play the drums (aka Be a real rock star)
- Travel for work
- Run a marathon
- Think of 8 things I wish I could do

8 Shows I Watch:
- Ace of Cakes
- CSI (The original – I can’t stand Miami or NY)
- True Blood
- Grey’s Anatomy
- Private Practice
- Castle
- Lie to Me
- Sponge Bob Square Pants

8 Bloggers I'm Tagging:

• http://allconsumingego.wordpress.com/
• http://gradschoolprison.blogspot.com/
• http://theoddduckling.wordpress.com/
• http://viceastwoodrants.blogspot.com/
• http://www.thedatingjungle.org/
• http://youllgrowtoloveme.com/
• http://dbartol.blogspot.com/
• http://thesethougtsinsidemyhead.blogspot.com/