First post of the new year is Random. Interesting.

It feels like a Sunday. I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow.

I need yarn.

headache headache headache. come. on.

yeah, you should probably actually familiarize yourself with Michigan gun law before you go running your mouth about it.

I wish there was a way to easily get the last of the cereal out of the box without all the cereal powder coming with it.

iron iron iron iron iron deficiency. whee.

I don’t make resolutions.

Every time I get on Facebook lately I just get right back off again.

I like peppermint.

Why do people always add an s to Happy New Year? It’s the same as with Daylight Saving Time. I don’t understand it. Happy New Year. Not Happy All the Future New Years.

I am . huh. Can’t remember. ..

I like peppermint.

I couldn’t make the bubbles freeze. Even though it’s 14 degrees. -4 with the windchill.

So very cold. Maybe I’ll go try again when I can feel my fingertips again. Yes. That is a good plan.

I could use a nap.

Some good ideas for photo projects for the new year. I kind of did the tea one … you should check out my book.

I really need to do a new book.

Ooooh! I get to vote NO! on some stuff next month! And then be bitter because it won’t matter and my property taxes will go up. AGAIN. Bastards.

See? Soup is not filling. This is one of the many many reasons I do not like soup. It’s not a meal. It’s a hot chunky weird beverage.

I suppose half eaten by a coyote is better than all eaten by a coyote. If you’re still breathing, anyway.

I’m contemplating Flickr again. As I periodically do. I still loathe the new layout. It’s awful. Just awful.

I hear tell a bunch of 365 alums are going to take a stab at a 365 for 2014. I think I’m going to have to pass on that one. I am going to be just the tiniest bit busy …

Toast is good.

I have to sew up the dragon wing now.

Yes.

Where the bloody hell are my scissors?

I’m probably never going to turn that thing into a monster. I should just frog it out.

I’m fairly certain that I will never be comfortable again.

el oh el

I have to admit, I was tempted for a minute, on the 365 thing. But then I remembered how much work it is. And also, I’m not terribly fond of how I look in self portraits right now.

But I told Sarah I’d post one now and then. Just cos she asked so nicely.

Raylan is turning out to be a crazy fast read. I’m sad there won’t be any more.

Why do I have Sinead O’Connor stuck in my head? Dammit!

I should take a nice hot shower.

I should finish casting off this sweater.

There, now for the sleeves. I hate sleeves. Sleeves are … I dunno. Not fun.

Silly stars. Stay put!

Well that’ll knock your ego right down to nothin’, won’t it?

People get all inspired to do things and make huge changes at the new year. There’s so little follow through. I think it falls into the same category as people who are addicted to self help books. What are you actually accomplishing? Why not just accomplish it?

Just like watching an alien move around in there.

I probably didn’t eat enough dinner.

Oh they’re hearts! I thought they were fingerprints. How odd.

floppy hat in wool

Yes, well, but –

Army of tiny snowmen!

This might actually be the single most uncomfortable chair in the entire house.

So, open carry is completely legal in Michigan, she explains that to the “alarmed” caller, but dispatches a patrol unit anyway? What the hell?

There is something pokey in my slipper. That is not cool.

Can someone buy me some yarn? No? sigh.

Someday, I will figure out what the hell that noise is.

My left eye doesn’t open all the way. Never has. Let’s move along.

OK. I’m about done with today. For serious. I need a massage. And I’m not gonna get one.

Oh come on. Are we really still clinging to “that awkward moment when”? Let it die. Just. Let. It. DIE.

Oh look, everyone’s doing Instagram 365s too. I’ve been doing an Insta photo a day since July of 2012. It’s all on the Tumblr.

I think this sweater needs a matching hat. Yes. It is still cold here in March and April. Yes, they will come in handy.

also, i’d hoped. Around here! ~JenniferBot

I can’t zip it. Too much belly.

Aw! Miss W has resolutions! And they’re good ones! I wished her much luck.

Ooooh, a plan! Yes, I have a plan! It’s a good plan!

Happy New Year. I hope it’s your best ever. For serious.

I’m not very humbuggy today, really. Very.

I think Festivus is dumb.

I think the Krackle is still in the chicken.

No, I will not knit you underpants.

That was a lot of orange juice.

snow snow snowy snow. I’m glad there’s snow today. No snow on Christmas was getting old.

It’s not a pilgrim dress. It’s a Wednesday Addams dress.

Honestly, Vogue Knitting. Sometimes I wonder about you.

I’m not sure what to do with myself right now. Maybe I’ll watch something.

I have no idea what to watch.

It’s probably too early to take the tree down, huh?

Wow, the windchill is going to be brutal tomorrow. Guess I’ll be staying in.

Never keep a journal in pencil. Or. Always keep a journal in pencil.

I don’t know what that is, Regis.

This thing is taking 3 years to install.

It’s bloody cold in here.

I’m telling you, that cocktail wienie looked exactly like a severed, cooked finger. It even had a nail bed.

I miss Scotch.

Fire!

I keep thinking it’s Saturday. I’m glad that it’s not.

Goats are such drama queens.

There’s no point in posting today. Is there?

A bubble bath sounds lovely. It also sounds like so much work. Maybe chocolate instead.

You know what? I’m just not really a Sound of Music fan. Sorry.

Dammit! That was not in the budget.

Things You Should Never Do to a Pregnant Woman #37: Touch her belly without asking. Particularly if she’s me, and doesn’t generally liked being touched anyway. Is there anything about my personality that says to you, “Please, hug me at will, invade my personal space, it is my favorite thing”? And then, when she’s mad at you for touching her belly, don’t have the nerve to be offended. You brought it on yourself. Just ASK.

Seriously. Don’t touch me.

I should just make a whole pregnant lady post.

My back hurts. A lot.

I hate the phrase “chick flick.”

This cookie is delicious.

Charlie Brown!

Bah. Cranky and Christmas. I hate that.

The government killed the singing nun!

Uh oh. This was controversial.

“They built a Geiger counter out of coconuts.”
“But they can’t get off the island.”

Passing up reading for Hogan’s Heroes. Strange girl.

I need another cookie, right? Right.

That spine looks like intestines. Oh. Maybe it is intestine.

I don’t think it really counts as a tradition til you’ve done it for a few years.

“Karen! We’ve received a smoke signal from your kitchen!”

are you ready? are you ready? are you ready?

almost …

Maybe I’ll just skip Christmas cards next year entirely. Or do a limited edition. They’ll be numbered. You’ll have to win a lotto to get one or something. Yeah. Then you can auction them off on ebay like those fancy White House Christmas cards, (which were designed and made in the Mitten btw).

I wonder if I can sleep in tomorrow. I slept like crap last night. My dreams were terrible. People were awful in them. Thanks awful dream versions of people who made things awful. Meanheads.

Every time I catch the title of my Soviet architecture photography book I think, for just a split second, that it’s a Star Wars book of some kind because of the font and the fact that it’s called “Imperial Pomp.” And, for just a split second, I think, “Why do I have a Star Wars book on my shelf??”

Maybe I shouldn’t stay in. Maybe I should go to all the stores and by all the incandescent light bulbs I can get my hands on. Yes. Yes, that’s brilliant. That’s precisely what I should do.

Someday, when I run out of incandescents, I’m going to mail every piece of shit CFL that burns out to that son of whore Fred Upton. Every. Single. One. With a big fat thank you note attached. And by thank you, I mean a photo of me giving him the bird with my most evil smile. And the evilest eyebrow. Commie RINO rat bastard asshat.

Heh. Sorry. Christmas Christmas happy joy merry happy stuff. Whee!

I keep starting this book and then putting it down. For months. Over and over. I don’t know why. It’s not like it’s awful. I just. I don’t know.

What IS that noise??

I should dust. It’s getting dusty in here. Maybe I’ll dust. Dust and buy light bulbs. Yeah.

plink plink plink    plink plink plink    plink plink plink plink plink

I never do anything on New Year’s Eve. I haven’t done anything on New Year’s Eve in years.

Well. At least we know I won’t be hungover for next week’s Random.

What? What?!

the madness is called Dr. -JenniferBot

Well there you have it.

Happy Christmas from the Compound. Be good, have fun, fight the future by fighting for the future.

I tried to be a Girl in his tour of Spectral Motion. ~ JenniferBot

Yeah, I know, but it’s sticking with me. That’s fucking poetry, man. And it goes so well with the photo.

I keep reading “Bushitis” as “bullshititis.”

Ha! Like I’d take my children to a daycare with a giant tapestry of Jerry Garcia on the wall.

I hope the snow doesn’t melt before Christmas. It’s been a few years since we had snow on Christmas.

I really think I need a hedgehog. For serious.

It’s one thing to “share” a photo, which you should still ask permission for, but to actually take the photo and repost it as your own? Not cool.

I HATE lunch meetings.

I do so wish people in the academic community would stop confusing “rational” with “rationale”.

Maybe I should take the “Path to Inner Peace” webinar. Hahahahahaahah just kidding.

Yesssss.

Well. There’s another reason to never move to Belgium.

Chloroform. Ha!

Have you seen my desk, lady? I have 6 mugs sitting on my desk. 6!! I can only drink so much tea.

And right now, I can’t drink any tea at all.

I don’t actually enjoy potlucks.

I hate these people.

All the most serious talks about life come when you’re tucking them in.

So what’s the big deal?

Isn’t that a standard law of nature? Everyone’s Tupperware cupboard must be perpetually chaotic.

The family in their Christmas pajamas singing to the tune of Will Smith’s Miami that everyone is raving about? I really just thought it was annoying. And I kind of hated it.

Impresive! Too bad this Miley is gone.

It’s bad enough that I have to listen to you talk talk talking all day, do you have to do with food in your mouth too?

Woohoo! I love getting out of meetings.

Aw man.

Kinda feels like the cover of a Cure album.

Ugh. Maybe I should have a Coke. Maybe that would help this stomach.

I wish I was the kind of person who enjoyed sitting in coffee shops, but I’m just not.

Oh my goodness. You need to let that one go, honey.

I keep thinking it’s Thursday. That makes me sad.

I never understand it when people add me on Google+. I never use that thing.

“You live on a farm. Can I have a bale of hay?” Um …

Sorry, I don’t eat ham. It makes me sick.

Well that was a weird kind of reminiscence.

Oh!

Sorry, but just because I’m growing a person right now does not give the general public the right to assume ownership of my person. Stop demanding pregnancy photos. It’s rude and kinda creepy. I’m not kidding.

“Did you buy a Mega Millions ticket in Niles? Someone is hold a $1 million prize ticket.” This is why no one reads your newspaper any more.

Sooooooooo dead around here.

Their little mouths have faded away entirely!

I don’t like the way that sun is glaring in at me, as if I’ve done something to make it angry.

People are still saying YOLO. Why? Why is this happening??

I’m so sleepy. I just would like a nap. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Not really.

Dude. That is lame.

No.

I was being courteous, not sucking up.

No. Just. You cannot be serious. Someone stop the insanity.

This is a good shirt. I like this shirt.

Ooph. I miss being comfortable.

Ahh. Good old Anya.

Damn, I thought I lost an hour there, but I just read the clock wrong.

I keep hitting the comma instead of the period.

Yes, I too measure distance in hours.

Oh Slate, you halfwitted pathetisad excuse for a rag. Conservatives aren’t “mad” about Pajama Boy. We just think he’s hilariously absurd. Pajama Boy is a joke. Try to keep up.

See my vest?

No, seriously. I love Gillespie. Hilarious.

Give me a body part. ~ JenniferBot

I should take my knitting to work tomorrow. Seems like a good plan.

What? Rain? No! No rain. No rain, dammit!

We’re not going to have snow on Christmas and I’m going to be all Grinchy.

I think maybe they didn’t get the joke there.

stuck in my head. for days.

Dollhouses and all those miniature things? They creep me out. A lot.

Ah yes. I have just remembered why I don’t eat kiwifruit.

A duet, I suppose. Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart or something. Love is a serious business.

Um. It’s not my error.

Neeeeeed.

Argh. I’m so itchy.

Interesting

No, I don’t think Miss W’s troop should sell cookies solely so that I can stock up on Thin Mints. I have no idea what you’re talking about.

And those people are wrong.

Evidently I should move to Cardiff. I’d be OK with that if British food wasn’t awful and their health care system worse.

Why does my sweater smell weird? I hate it when I don’t smell like me.

This is beautiful.

Yes it is 11 degrees. Yes it does feel like -10. Yes I did send you on errands in this cold. You’ll survive.

Dear God. How can you eat food that smells like that??

I have to say that I don’t have a problem with funeral selfies. I’ve already said I want to bring back the memento mori and expand it to include full photographic service for funerals. It’s all about context. I’m happy I came across this post because I had just been thinking about context in relation to my own photos that I post online. I posted one recently of Miss W and me where we look like we’re having a grand time. In fact, for most of the day and immediately after that photo, she’d been in a fairly grumptastic mood. But you don’t know that when all I post is one happy photo. Without context, it’s ridiculously easy to create your own narrative.

I’m sorry I dumped out your coffee, lady. I truly am. It was an honest mistake. You can stop trying to make me feel bad about it now.

Just because the door didn’t say “keep out” doesn’t mean that common sense shouldn’t tell you that you do not belong here.

Hey guess what? It’s Michigan! It’s supposed to be snowing!

Everything just smells musty to me. I have no idea why. Maybe I have a fungus in my brain.

Oh for the love of – look. Die or find a new job. Either way I’ll be happy.

This is so cool!

Oh that’s where my Santa hat went.

Today just sucks. I need to just start over.

Oh wow. Yeah. That is just not what I am looking for right now.

This book is just not what I want to be reading right now. Ugh.

Why yes, I do know the difference between Castle Doctrine, Stand Your Ground, and Self Defense.

I still hate Seinfeld.

This is beautiful too.

Um. Now this is just a suggestion. But. The weather being what it is, and the road conditions being what they are … perhaps you should not be taking photos of the road and the weather and posting them to Facebook while YOU ARE DRIVING. Just puttin’ that out there for ya.

I hate it when the forecast says “frigid.”

Ack! It’s suddenly entirely too sunny!

I can’t slouch, dammit!

OK. Need a new one. That’s it. So half assed I can’t see spending my money there any longer.

Ah there. The sun is gone and the snow is falling again.

from a million miles away

It’s just not right.

Student artwork $20.00! I think I’ll pass, thanks.

“Tables and chair sets all marked down from $30.00 to $70.00” I’m not sure you really understand what the phrase “marked down” means.

Oh, Daniel Craig! Cut your hair!

I’m not bringing wine. Just so you know.

Damn. Boots are in order.

I need to get a wolf dog.

I need this too, right?

I tried to be a Girl in his tour of Spectral Motion. ~JenniferBot

I never win the boots.

I do not approve of dog earing pages in books.

I am very very cold right now. COld. ColD. CoLd. coLd. COLD!

That elf is creepy. Little Justin Timberlake is awesome.

I don’t think I could do that.

Radio maybe. Yeah. Radio. radio radio

listen to the voice of reason

No no no. It would be Scottish Whisky. Not Whiskey.

Russel Brand gives me the serious creeps. Which doesn’t have that much to do with this article. But maybe a little.

Connection lost. Connection lost. Connection lost. Connection lost. All. Damn. Day.

lolly lolly lolly get yer

I’m reading this now. This is not what I was reading earlier.

Can’t post if I can’t connect, WordPress. Get with the program. We have fans. Or something akin to fans. Admirers? Well. People who don’t think we suck.

Um. OK.

That’s an old photo of Miss W, by the bye. We don’t have any snow at all, currently.

Man I hate Detroit.

love love love

Alan, your observation, while correct and I have worn my hands are lethal ASSAULT hands, Allison. -JenniferBot

The word “craftivist” needs to die. In fact, the whole concept. Ugh. They just ruin everything!

This just pissed me off.

It was not something I’ll repeat.

I always type pumpking first.

I dreamed she had come in while we were all gone and emptied her office. I was rather disappointed to find that this was not the case in reality.

I am not ready to deal with that stuff. Just not awake yet at all.

at the lie-berry.

Oh my goodness. It’s Doctor. Not “Dr.”

Noooooooooo. You cannot substitute cheddar for provolone. They’re not remotely the same.

There is too much mustard on this pita.

Office consensus: hipsters suck.

Man. That is just not cool.

I always use TARDIS because it’s an acronym. Loads of people use Tardis. I dunno. That doesn’t work so much for me.

How about if you just stop criticizing the bodies of women who have recently given birth, regardless of what they look like. Assholes.

I have thoroughly neglected Random today. I’ve been very busy, you see.

Santa tonight!

Going by the name “Gal” is like going by the name “Che”. It’s dumb. It’s one thing if you’re someone’s “Gal Friday” it’s another thing entirely to use it as your actual name. But. Maybe that’s actually what her parents named her. What do I know? I’d never even heard of her before today.

I don’t even know who most of those people are.

Jared Leto kind of repulses me.

Dear God. Just. No. No no no.

Stop losing the connection, bloggy baby. It’s not cool.

Half a donut is OK, right? Of course it is.

Whenever someone brings up Ice, Ice Baby, I have to cleanse my brain with this.

One class done, one to go. Then sweet, sweet temporary freedom.

I just love this.

Fascinating!

I thought everyone knew goats eat everything. It’s pretty much what they’re known for.

Registry. Registry. Registry.

Oooh! Building Coordinators’ Luncheon. They gave us $25.00 gift cards last time!

This totally made my day.

I don’t understand those jumper romper things. You have to take your clothes all the way off to pee. Who wants to do that?

I’m looking forward to this hair trim.

Well, helloooo, Little Justin Timberlake!

I should just buy everyone the Houston Firefighters Calendar for Christmas.

I dunno. I felt a little dirty posting that Homeland Security Internship information.

Yes, watch this.

Yes, yes, yes. You’re quite welcome.

I just think Nick Gillespie would enjoy Random just as much as the rest of us. That’s all.

Why do students email me at night wanting answers regarding things that happen first thing the following morning? I’m not your instructor. I’m not salaried. I’m not paid to answer your queries after 5:00.

And yet … I’m always answering queries after 5:00.

I need an intervention.

I just don’t think those mice should be driving that car.

I look forward to the day when I will be able to put on socks without suffocating.

The calendar still isn’t done. I still can’t have Scotch or Paul McGann. I should buy myself a new poncho to snuggle my woes.

Your presents are just going to be late, that’s all.

I highly recommend Jo Nesbø. Go read some.

What? They’re squirrels? Well squirrels shouldn’t be driving either!

It is spectacularly difficult to read out loud when your lung capacity is significantly diminished.

What? Why is my phone buzzing?

Aw, what a kick ass text!

You know what would be really awesome, asshat? If you would just pay your bleedin’ bill. We’re not running a flipping charity here.

I think comparing Snowden to Thomas Paine might be the tiniest bit of a stretch, but whatever.

The other mothers think I’m weird and I have no idea how to talk to them.

I forgot to water the plants again.

Shut up. I’m a better mother than a gardener.

Make it so.