Jenna's House of Idiosyncrasies Version 10.0 [Focus.]

I'm upgrading to Movable Type 3.0D, and instead of being totally seamless as other upgrades have been, it's turning into a bit of a nightmare.

Please bear with me while I get things working, and...

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!

“How's your day, Jenna?”

“Ahhh...” Sighs. Gives him sleepy puppy look.

“That good, huh?”

“Well, long story short: was out until 5 o'clock this morning, and am now drinking Powerade dosed with Morning Relief Alka-Seltzer”

“Ah. Good times.”

“Yeah.” [long pause as actual work goes on] “It's funny; when I stay out late and drink too much, I wake up hungover, but I always make it to work on time.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should do that more often.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Does anyone want to drive me to Nashville and spend July 4th weekend with me there?

There is a Will Hoge concert at the famous Exit/In and some other exclusive dealies.

I don't want to go all by myself. Don't make me, cause I will, you know.

O-Ren Ishii (Cottonmouth)



You're O-Ren Ishii!
Twisted and homicidal, you respect most people, but let them know not to mess with you. You have a talent for sensing danger, and keep only the most loyal and skilled people around you.

Kill Bill: Which Deadly Viper Assassin Are You?
(Vol. II spoilers... results with pics)

Before I left for my nightly walk earlier this evening, I went into Alli and Catie's room to show off my very dramatic trucker tan and Alli immediately exclaimed, “You're hot!” I looked down, bewildered, and jested at my $2 crimson wife beater and my blue jeans, but Alli continued to insist, “You're hot!”

Later I was standing in front of Margo Sterling Silver, window shopping, and four african-american men walk past behind me, and proceeded to have this exchange:

Guy 1 to Guy 2: “I wanna hit that.”

Guy 2: “I wanna hit that too, man.”

Guy 3 to me: “Hey honey, how you doin'?”

Guy 4 while being pulling away by Guy 3: “Come with us, I'll buy you a drink!”

Me: “That's alright honey, y'all have a good night.”

I know I'm supposed to feel violated or insulted, but I gotta say, that left me feeling pretty HOTT.

You know, pimpin' ain't easy.

Which Office Moron Are You?
Rum and Monkey: jamming your photocopier one tray at a time.

Stop crying, little one. You're the disarmingly young temp.

You had to get some kind of job when you left school, and nobody's willing to pick up a fresh-faced graduate and give them an amazing job. Not unless they're some kind of genius, anyway, and even then it's unlikely because geniuses make people uneasy. Clever people do not fit in offices.

So you're a temp. Working from short contract to short contract, dodging your officemates' condascending glances, you hope one day to have a real job. Until then, the fact that you look about twelve makes you an easy target both for tea-making duties and the perverted old boss.

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

You are Charles VI of France, also known as Charles the Mad or Charles the Well-Beloved!

A fine, amiable and dreamy young man, skilled in horsemanship and archery, you were also from a long line of dribbling madmen. King at 12 and quickly married to your sweetheart, Bavarian Princess Isabeau, you enjoyed many happy months together before either of you could speak anything of the other's language. However, after illness you became a tad unstable. When a raving lunatic ran up to your entourage spouting an incoherent prophecy of doom, you were unsettled enough to slaughter four of your best men when a page dropped a lance. Your hair and nails fell out. At a royal masquerade, you and your courtiers dressed as wild men, ending in tragedy when four of them accidentally caught fire and burned to death. You were saved by the timely intervention of the Duchess of Berry's underskirts.

This brought on another bout of sickness, which surgeons countered by drilling holes in your skull. The following months saw you suffer an exorcism, beg your friends to kill you, go into hyperactive fits of gaiety, run through your rooms to the point of exhaustion, hide from imaginary assassins, claim your name was Georges, deny that you were King and fail to recognise your family. You smashed furniture and wet yourself at regular intervals. Passing briefly into erratic genius, you believed yourself to be made of glass and demanded iron rods in your attire to prevent you breaking.

In 1405 you stopped bathing, shaving or changing your clothes. This went on until several men were hired to blacken their faces, hide, jump out and shout "boo!", upon which you resumed basic hygiene. Despite this, your wife continued sleeping with you until 1407, when she hired a young beauty, Odette de Champdivers, to take her place. Isabeau then consoled herself, as it were, with your brother. Her lovers followed thick and fast while you became a pawn of your court, until you had her latest beau strangled and drowned.

A severe fever was fended off with oranges and pomegranates in vast quantities, but you succumbed again in 1422 and died. Your disease was most likely hereditary. Unfortunately, you had anywhere up to eleven children, who variously went on to develop capriciousness, great cruelty, insecurity, paranoia, revulsion towards food and, in one case, a phobia of bridges.

---

Summer is going just dandy. I ♥ lack of real responsibility. I mean, I have no money and no car, but I also only work 19 hours a week and party all the time.

Well, maybe not so much “party” as “watch DVDs, drink beer and take lots of walks”. But still, good times.

I'm wishing I didn't have to go back to school because I'm seeing the need for it less and less. I was on the very dorky, only slightly informative “Major Decisions” website yesterday to see if there was something—anything—that could provide an alternative to art school. The sad answer is, there is not. Every other major looks mind-boogling in its boringness, needlessly complicated, or very, very silly. (I mean, Turfgrass Management? Are they serious?)

Plus, I know, in my heart, that nothing else but art school will make me happy. So I'm resolved to keep fighting, despite some nay-sayers.

In other news, I think I'd like to own a record store. That sounds like the perfect job for me. Open at 10 or 11, talk about music all day, get new releases at wholesale. I feel like it's what I need to be doing before I'm 30. I just have to figure out how to go about it.

I am an Intellectual



Which America Hating Minority Are You?

Take More Robert & Tim Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim Cartoons

My Phase is Hubris



Which Phase of the Greek Tragic Cycle Are You?

Take More Robert & Tim Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim Cartoons

I'm a Heretic!



Which Enemy of the Christian Church Are You?

Take More of Robert & Tim's Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim's Cartoons

My new favorite thing: Nivea® Creme, which comes in 88¢ tins at the Wally World.

I ate a bowl of Hunny B's for lunch today and was dissapointed considerably by the taste. Upon further inspection I noticed that they have taken out the little honey pot crackers and left only the B's. Blah. My favorite cereal laid to waste by those bastards at Kellogg's.

Abie bought me this totally bitchin' watch, and I'm not sure if this comes across in the picture or not, but it is HUGE, and so pimpin. It goes well with the pimp hat, I think.

Monday Night movie is being officially reinstated. Get in touch with me for info.

Happy birthday to the Kirbys, collectively! Especially you. Yes, you are my favorite.

After everything that happened, I ran to Winder to basically hide out for the weekend. As much as I hate Winder, it still produces that coming home feeling, that comfort zone. Usually this is not a good thing, because comfort zones include sleeping late into the afternoon, drinking lots of beer, and eating too many Sara Lee Cheesecake Bites. I typically have a firm stance against comfort zones, I missed Athens and my roommates desperately, but it was really what I needed.

Now I can go back to being a hooligan, I suppose.