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

Today I woke up two minutes before my alarm would have gone off at 8:00 am. I pulled myself out of bed in the darkness, stumbled down my ladder and got into the shower.

It didn't occur to me until the second “Lather, rinse.” that Abie would get up in a moment and begin yelling up to my empty bed.

“I'm awake. Isn't this cool?”

“Did you not sleep?”

“No way, man. I totally went to bed at 1:00.”

“Seriously? I thought you were going to stay up all night.”

We went to class, and had a weird and confusing review session for the test on Wednesday. I have no idea what the hell is going to be on this test, like whoa.

Afterwards, as per usual, I walked to work. I ran into Neil (works with me, previously mentioned in one way or another, total sweetie) in front of the chapel, and he was, as per usual, far too cheery for not even 10 am. He has these crazy orange mirror sunglasses that for some reason make him look both happy and really awake, and in combination with this amazing smile he always keeps on, seeing him for 15 seconds made me feel happy and awake, even pre-coffee.

So I went into work ready to kick ass, and my Web Account Manager, Phillips, expressed genuine happiness at my being back.

“I'll tell you what—you sure make my job a hell of a lot easier.”

“Are you serious?”

“Damn right.”

I go to my desk, and a completely random plush dog toy is sitting next to my phone.

“Can someone explain this to me?”

Everyone refuses, telling me that I'll just have to talk to Chris Brown.

The dog is a puppet. You stick your hand in the back, move it's mouth, and it barks the tune of “London Bridges” in time with your movement.

I am so not kidding about this.

Eventually, I get out of somebody that sometime last week (while I was out sick), CB was approached on the street by a woman trying to sell him kitchen knives.

Yes, kitchen knives.

Finding he had no use for kitchen knives, she randomly pulls out four of these dogs (brand new in original poly bags, I assure you) and offers to sell him the set for $10.

Here's the crazy part, kids: he buys these crazy-ass dogs off the strange woman. He gifted one to Neil, one to Bobby, one to me, and kept one for himself. We have jested that the four of us are obviously now a clique.

A clique with the incredible power of annoying coworkers beyond belief... with plush dogs. Sounds like something you'd like to be a part of, right?

I thought so.

Right before I clocked out for lunch (lunch consisting of sitting in the tire place, more on that later), Neil comes in, finds the mix CD I made him sitting on his desk, and proceeds to give me one of the most zealous reactions I have ever received for any gift.

“What is this?!? This is so cool!!! New music!”

Overwhelmed with the enthusiasm, I left, bound for Snow Tire Company on Hancock. I had chosen Snow Tire based on some glowing recommendations, and the fact that it's location made the whole ordeal something I could get taken care of on my lunch break.

I go in, tell the guy that if possible, I would like to have my tire repaired rather than replaced, but I would defer to their judgement on that. I sat in the waiting room for about 30 to 40 minutes, mostly staring into space thinking, sometimes looking through the plate glass to see what they were doing to Russo (which was a lot), and halfway watching an auto race playing on the tv. It was about twenty minutes into the staring/observing/not really watching body of activity that I realized I was watching a low-rider truck race, which I didn't even know really went on, let alone was televised with real announcers doing play-by-play and commentary. This is officially the most white trash “sport” I have ever come across, and that includes cow tippin.

The guy comes back in and motions to me. I get up and follow him to the counter. “You're done. It's going to come to a dollar fifty. ”

“Are you serious?”

“Your stem valve was busted, we replaced it. That was all that was wrong with it.”

“Wow. That. Is Awesome.”

No labor, no charging me for the air they put in the tires, no bogus administrative charges, just a $1.61, with tax.

Holy beejesus.

The rest of the workday flew by like nothing. I went home, made dinner, and went grocery shopping. A series of awfully mundane activities, but there are some things that just have to be taken care of.

I went out at about 10:30 to study in 24-hour coffee shop on Washington known as Hot Corner. While I must express my new love for this place—which is warm and inviting and not pretentious at all in the different but equal ways that Blue Sky, Starbucks and Espresso Royale all are—I should totally make sure to wear headphones next time. I had to fore go music this go round because my CD player was non-charged, and as a result got fuckall done, although I did draw a little, and get to eavesdrop on some rather hilarious conversation.

“I really resent it when people tell me I look like Jason Schwartzman.”

“He's not a bad actor.”

“He's not a great actor.”

“He has redeeming qualities.”

(Said with some obvious, self-effacing irony) “My mom says I look like George Clooney, but better.”