So after about 17 of these drinks, we decided it was time to go home. We are old and we both needed to get sleep. Little did we know how very potent these drinks were and how very hungover we would spend all of Sunday.

We hopped in a cab and shared it up north, since we don’t live too far from each other. We told the driver that we were heading north to Irving. I paid attention, since there was a shit ton of traffic on the Ontario feeder ramp, and I wanted to see if it was an accident. It wasn’t, so Jess and I checked our phones and chatted.

About 20 minutes later I happened to look up to see where we were. I noticed that we were passing the White Sox stadium and were on the Dan Ryan, south of 35th Street. In the exact opposite direction of where we needed to go.

I yelled at the cab driver to turn around, that he was going totally the wrong way, and that we were not paying for this cab ride. I was pissed. I mean, Irving is a MAJOR street. Even if you may not have known the cross street, you, as a Chicago cab driver, should know that Irving is north of the Loop. I think my suburbanite brother and sister both even know this.

He finally got us close to where we needed to be and we got out. I flat out refused to pay. We were literally in the car for an hour. For a 10 mile drive. After midnight.

We started walking to an intersection so that I could catch yet another cab to my house, since we were near Jess’s house. What we weren’t expecting was the cab driver to get out of his cab, leaving it running in the street, to chase us down for money. I then drunkenly lambasted him in the middle of the street that we were not paying for his lack of knowledge and our unfortunate jaunt to the South Side.

Then he threatened to call the police. And since we were both shitfaced and wanting to get far, far away from this man, we paid him like $10 and made him leave. Which he did, thankfully.

My next cab driver was much nicer and knew where he was going. He also told me we shouldn’t have run off without paying, since he did take us to where we needed to go. And I’m like “yeah, except he was probably planning to originally take us to some ditch outside the city near Indiana to kill us, so I didn’t really want to pay for that.”

It appears I am no longer the cab driver whisperer. But I would like more of those delicious drinks.

I’ve seen Jersey Boys before, but this was a new cast. I didn’t like this cast as much as our first cast, but the show is amazing. If you’ve never seen it, go. The music is awesome, and it is such an interesting story about the Four Seasons.

After the show, we all went to Wildfire for dinner. After dinner we walked down the street to have a drink. I stayed the latest with my SIL, who was waiting for her 8:30 train. After we finished our drinks, we took a cab over to Union Station. We were way early for her train, so I suggested we sit in the train station bar and have another drink.

I found a seat at the bar while she went to check to see if Jamba Juice was open. It wasn’t. So I drank by myself and she kept me company until her train was getting ready to leave.

While we were sitting there, an old man with half his teeth missing decided to listen in on all our conversations and then drunkenly give us advice about us and women in general. None of it made sense. I’m pretty sure the dude had been sitting at that bar since it opened. That was a lot of drunkity speak for 8 PM on a Saturday.

Kim left to catch her train and I sat and finished my beer. Cletus the slackjawed yokel had enough of me ignoring him, and he left. And so a dude with camouflage bags took his seat. I asked him where he was coming back from (Afghanistan), how long he had been deployed (three years!) and then thanked him for his service and bought him a beer.

I don’t know what his deal was, but he was also completely shitfaced. And he basically propositioned me to have sex in the train station bathroom. I don’t know if I love America that much, sir.

Thankfully, the bar was closing and I could try and ditch him. But I also had a beer to finish and didn’t want to waste it. So I did what every other SANE person does in a train station at 8:30 on a Saturday night, I chatted up a strange man eating a hamburger to distract the drunk soldier.

I told him the deal with drunk Army man and that if he could pretend like we knew each other until drunk Army guy left, it would be much appreciated it. He was happy to oblige. And we had a very nice conversation while he finished his dinner and waited for his train back to upstate New York. And then before he left for his train, we became friends on Facebook. Because that’s totally what you do in that situation, right?

And then I got in a cab, chatted up my cab driver and went home and passed out on the couch.

My life: The stuff reality television is made of.

I mean, it was a pain when I had to get a new debit card when it became Chase and had to change all my automatic payments. But I forgave them. And then like a year later, they changed the card from MasterCard to Visa and I had to do EVERYTHING ALL OVER AGAIN!

When that happened, I said “you know what, self? Why don’t we make all these payments through your checking account. That won’t change, unless you change banks. You won’t have to go through this again! You are a genius, self.”

Oh hahahahahaha past self, how wrong you were.

Last week I got a letter from Chase that my routing number was changing. Not my checking account number, just the routing number. So all those accounts I changed, to outsmart the fucking bankers at Chase, had to be re-done. It’s a giant pain in the ass. Most of them can be semi-easily changed online. It’s time-consuming, but at least I didn’t have to talk to anyone.

That is, until today.

My student load company is apparently stuck in 1997 and the only way to change the routing number is to call, or send in another voided check. Being lazy and cheap and not wanting to go through that, I decided to call them. How hard could it be?

Oh, hahahahahahahaha past self, you will eat those words smothered in cream cheese.

Mmmmmmmm, cream cheese.

Anyway, here is how the conversation went:

Me: I need to change my routing number.

Her: Can you hold on two minutes?

Me: Sure.

*two minutes passes*

Her: Hi, OK. Thank you for holding. How can I help you?

Me: I need to change my routing number.

Her: OK. What is the new routing number?

Me: 127000023

Her: OK, let me verify, that was 1200000073.

Me: No, 127000023.

Her: Right, 12000000003.

Me: No, ONE TWO SEVEN…

Her: Right, that’s what I said, 127000023.

And then my head exploded.

First I would like to preface this by saying thank you to all of you who commented with your podcast recommendations on this post. I wrote them all down and downloaded them post haste.

I first started with Pop My Culture, which is really good. I highly recommend it. I think it got me through my first run of more than six minutes straight and I realized that people talking was the way to get me through running. And seeing as I’m up to running for 30 minutes at a time now, this was a good thing to figure out.

After that one, I was looking for more! There wasn’t a new PMC one yet, so instead of listening to an old one, I figured I’d try one of the other ones you all recommended. I tried This American Life, but Ira Glass’ voice bugs. Also, the subject was about human trafficking and the news clips were in Spanish and then I had to stop listening. I need funny! Snark! Not sad and somber stuff! I’m already sad and somber that I’m RUNNING.

I finally decided to give The Nerdist a try. I think a million of you recommended it, so I knew it would be good. But “nerdist”? Really? I’m not a nerd. I don’t play role playing games. I don’t have Star Wars action figures. I don’t really see how this would be for me.

OH BOY I COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG.

I am literally obsessed with Chris Hardwick and this podcast. It is fucking hysterical. I started with the Seth Myers one and then after she told me to go back and listen to the live one with Craig Ferguson, I did just that. And now I’ve gone back to the beginning of Nerdist time and am starting at the very beginning. And burning so many calories with the laughing.

These podcasts are amazing. Also, guess what? I AM a nerd! When one of the first things they mentioned was an internet meme and Twitter, I knew I had found my tribe. You had me at meme, Hardwick. You had me at meme.

The problem with these podcast is that they are hilariously funny. And when you’re walking along a crowded street, or riding a crowded train and you laugh out loud, repeatedly, at something, you get a lot of strange looks. Lately I seem to smile and laugh the hardest when I’m walking past a group of people and I’m pretty sure they think I’m grinning at them like a damn fool. Such is life, though. Such is life.

It also doesn’t hurt that Chris Hardwick is absolutely adorable. And an age-appropriate crush to boot!

Swoooooon.

They are touring the country and after many failed attempts, I finally found someone to go with me to see The Nerdist Podcast Live! with me this Friday. (You’re my hero DJ!) I realized that telling people it was The Nerdist garnered the same reaction I had when I first downloaded the podcast. It’s a comedy show, though! Hilarious! And yes, sometimes they talk about Dr. Who and quadratic equations, but they also make me laugh until my stomach hurts.

I cannot wait to see the show and my future husband live and in person!

First there was the fact that I was up, wide awake at 4 AM dying of thirst. This was to be blamed on the many pints of beer and glasses of wine I consumed on Tuesday night while out with a friend.

I know better than to drink on school nights. I know that it fills my night with restless sleep and usually panic attacks over the lack of being able to sleep. It doesn’t matter if I have one drink or 20.

When my alarm went off, I did what I do every day – I turned it off and then reset the alarm for 30 minutes later.

Well, at least that was what I thought I did.

Apparently I shut off the alarm and then reset the clock 30 minutes ahead.

Fast forward 20 minutes to see me losing my shit because I thought it was 7:30 and I was running super late and no one likes to be jolted out of bed. And also, why didn’t the alarm go off?

I looked at my phone and it said it was like 6:45. I didn’t believe my phone. I rationally assumed my manually set alarm clock was correct and my cell phone was wrong and the world’s clock was off!

So here I am, half asleep, exhausted, pushing buttons on the alarm and my phone, then checking the clock on the Fitbit just to figure out what damn time it was. There was a lot of nonsensical speech and arms flailing until I got my wits about me, some five minutes later.

It’s a good thing I am not in charge of taking care of human lives since I’m dumbfounded by the workings of a clock and how to tell time.

And as an added bonus, I give you the world’s least unflattering photo of someone running. Caption: “Kill me now!”

Caption that, friends.

You’re welcome.

He looks innocent enough and he’s a very loving cat and I’ve never met one person who doesn’t immediately fall in love with this cat. He LOVES people. And if you pet him and let him sit on your lap? You’ll be his friend forever.

I, on the other hand, am not his favorite. Yes, I feed him and pet him and give him treats, but I hate having him on my lap. Because he doesn’t sit on your lap, he has to lay on your whole person. And well, it’s annoying.

So he retaliates. In cat-like fashion. He pukes on my pillow or in my shoe. Or most recently, on my library book. He scratches the shit out of things. He drags is poopy ass on the carpet. He gives me the evil eye.

And now? Now he’s trying to kill me.

In the morning right before I’m getting ready to leave, I sit on the edge of the bed and put my commuting shoes on. Usually it’s my tennis shoes, since we haven’t had much of a winter and I wore my new snow boots twice.

It’s become part of our routine where I tie the shoes and fling the laces and he chases them and then attacks my shoes.

Usually I’m too quick on the draw and tie them before he can really play. But apparently one day, I wasn’t paying enough attention and he thought he’d show me who was boss.

After our little game, I got my stuff and got set to leave the house. As far as I knew, since I had just put them on, my shoes were tied tight. They were set to make my daily commute to the office.

So I put on my coat, locked the front door and headed down the stairs in the building to the outside. As I was jogging down the stairs, since I was late for the bus as per usual, I tripped and almost tumbled down the whole flight. Thank you, railing, for allowing me to catch myself and not land on my face.

(I know I’m clumsy, but I can usually make it down two flights of stairs in the morning without any mishaps.)

I looked down at my shoe – UNTIED! The damn cat put his claw into the lace and loosened it just enough so that I would trip down the stairs. This is no way to treat the human that feeds you!

It’s a good thing he’s cute.

Back before I had my tooth pulled back in November, a molar on the other side of my mouth chipped. I didn’t even cry. I just looked at it, realized I was going to have another crown and made a note to quadruple the amount of money I put in my flexible spending account in 2012.

The giant gaping hole in my mouth is healing well. It takes up to six months before we can do the next steps, which is to take molds for the implant. In the meantime, I chew on only one side of my mouth and continue to go out in public every day with a gaping space in my mouth. I’m Cletus, the slack jawed yokel.

So let’s fast forward to last week at my regular check-up at the dentist. She tells me what I know, that I need a crown and all that. So I make the appointment for this evening. This is old hat for me. A shot of novacaine and some drilling? NOTHING! Not when you’ve previously had someone HAMMERING YOUR JAW BONE.

Then as I’m paying and getting ready to head home, they remind me that I shouldn’t eat anything on that side of my mouth until I get the permanent crown on. Which is in two weeks.

screeeeeeeecccchhhhh

Back up. What? The side of my mouth I’ve been chewing on exclusively since November is now off limits? And the side of my mouth that I CAN chew on is missing one of the important molar teeth? So you’re saying I basically should consist on smoothies for two weeks? Well, OK. What a weight loss plan!

Also a good weight loss plan? Going to the dentist and getting half your face numb! Just try and eat or drink anything!

Sadly there is no video. Only because I was too busy cleaning up Kool-Aid and soup from my face and floor.

*I would like to point out that I currently LOVE, LOVE, LOVE my dentist. I have no complaints at all. The fact that I do not get freaked out and cry about having to have work done is a testament to how much I love her and trust her.

I am no different. And really, it is about time. I couldn’t even start back working out in the gym come the first of the year. It took me until the 24th of this month to actually step foot in there. But, since then, I have been 5 times. (I couldn’t go tonight since I had a late dentist appointment.) (That’s what the kids these days are calling it.) (I wish.)

See, working out has never been fun. I’ve never really enjoyed it. It’s always been a chore for me, never a habit. Yes, I am aware of the benefits. Yes, I feel amazing after I work out. But that is not enough to MAKE me go to the gym. I need more. I need extra motivation.

This year I’m taking part in the Biggest Blogging Loser again that Jennie is doing. That is giving me a bit extra motivation, since there is money and prizes involved. But that alone isn’t going to get me to the gym because shit, I pay for the gym every month and that isn’t even motivation to go. Plus, while I have quite a bit to lose, I’m also 34 damn years old and my metabolism ain’t what it used to be. Weight comes off slowly for me.

I needed some other sort of reward system.

Regan and I are both trying to lose weight and we banter about it daily on gchat and text messages and chastise each other when we eat entire pizzas in one sitting. Recently, she was telling me about this Fitbit thing she got. It’s like a pedometer on crack. It sounded interesting, but eh. Who really cares how many steps you take in a day? It gets old quick, AM I RITE?

Wrong.

She loves it. In addition to steps, it does stairs, which is helpful since I take a lot of stairs in a day. And it also helps track calories burned and your sleep habits. A few minutes on the website and I was sold! I wanted one!

So I decided to turn that into my reward. And instead of rewarding myself for just losing pounds, this reward is based on me actually going to the gym and working out.

My goal is to go to the gym 20 days between January 24 and February 29. That takes into the fact that we have the Super Bowl this weekend and that I’ll be in Arizona on vacation from the 15th-19th.

Apparently this is what I needed. I am going to get this damn Fitbit! I’m going to make the gym my bitch!

Also helpful is that I signed up to run an 8k at the end of March.

Let’s do this!

Lately I have just had no desire to write here. Usually it is just laziness and deciding to watch TV or go to bed at an obscenely early time that leads to no posts. But for the last few weeks, I’ve had thoughts and post ideas and have written these down! I’ve even started like three or four posts only to give up halfway through and then just shut the computer down. The desire, I no has it.*

I think that’s normal. It’s life. It all ebbs and flows. And as much as the whole NaBloPoMo thing helped me kind of get back in the habit, sometimes there is just nothing to write about. I swear, I can talk for days, but lately I’ve had nothing remotely interesting or funny or exciting to talk about.

Plus, even the thought of opening the laptop at home lately has made me stabby with rage. I just don’t want to do it. I’m on the computer all day and on my phone when I’m not, so when I get home, I just want to relax and watch crappy television.

I’ve hardly been on Twitter, in fact I usually ignore it for a majority of the day, unless I’m bored on the bus or train on my commute. I don’t go on Facebook, but that isn’t really any different since I never go on FB. Only to wish people a happy birthday.

I still will play my Words with Friends games and IM with people on gchat, but that has been about it. I’ve been technologied out. And that’s fine. Because I’m a bit too dependent on it as it is.

So, all that to say, I’m feeling less ragey about actually blogging this week. And I might even finish those posts I have recently started. And that I just wrote a whole post about not wanting to blog nor be on the computer, just to…post on my blog from my computer. /meta

And I’ll leave you with a question – where do I find some cheap t-shirts to work out in? I haven’t bought a t-shirt since college, I think. All of my current shirts are from previous jobs and I got them all for free. So needless to say, they are starting to show quite a bit of wear and tear. And I don’t appreciate paying for shirts, especially more than a couple of bucks, so I need your help. Kthanxbai.**

*I like to put in lolcats speak because she loves it so, so much!

**Hi Ali!

Anyway, so one of Rihanna’s new songs out now is called “We Fell in Love in aHopeless Place” and I just love it. It’s got a good beat. But as I was listening to it the other morning while getting ready for work, I thought “what exactly qualifies as a hopeless place?”

So I decided to list all the hopeless places I could think of to fall in love.

• Crack house
• Denny’s
• Bomb shelter
• The Superdome after Katrina
• POW camp
• Crashing plane
• Jail
• War time
• Republican National Convention
• Antarctica
• Sinking ship
• Mars
• Bathroom stall
• Rehab
• Homeless shelter
• Deserted island
• Port-a-potty

Now it’s your turn! Add to the list!