Emily's Oscars Drinking Game

Oh my God, I am SO SORRY. That was a serious blog break there and trust me, it hurt me more than it hurt you. Work turned into a crazy storm of crazy. So remember how I have a contract-to-hire job through March (and then hopefully for the rest of our lives)? And how it's a mobile app company? Well the app is launching this week and needed to be submitted to the app store last Friday. Which means the last two weeks have been like this:


But now things are hopefully going to move at a SLIGHTLY slower pace and I should be home before bedtime and able to write posts now and again. Since I've been so absent, I literally had to send Joe away on Saturday so I could spend some time "catching up on the internet." Blogs are unread, Tumblr animated gifs are unseen...hell, I barely had time to watch Parks and Rec twice. (Which I did. Because some things are important to me and it's not my real life.)

So my first entry back is a fun one. While I've been away, I've been thinking about the upcoming Oscars this Sunday. I'm really quite excited, despite the fact that I haven't seen 99% of the movies. But it's the OSCARS. It's going to be a SPECTACLE. Also, Billy Crystal is back. And I'm pumped, even though I'm sure people will get all pissy and say he's not as good as he was. These are the same people who say, "The Super bowl commercials weren't as good this year." EVERY FREAKING YEAR.

YOU SAY THIS EVERY YEAR.

EVERY YEAR.

Ahem. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. On to the topic at hand. The Academy Awards. To prove my excitement about the event, I have formulated my own special drinking game. Here we go.



Emily's Oscars Drinking Game

Drink when someone at home says, "Jeez, what's with all the women wearing [color] this year?"

Drink when an actress is wearing crazy jewelry that makes you angry at first but then five minutes later you love it.

Drink when Sigourney Weaver is wearing a one-strap dress.

Drink when no one mentions that Melissa McCarthy played the unstoppable Sookie St. James and you start feeling very possessive of your Melissa McCarthy. YOU DON'T KNOW HER LIKE I DO.

Drink for every man wearing some alternative suit like anyone cares. (bolo ties, maroon jacket, black shirt, etc).

Drink when you see Daniel Day Lewis' suit and it makes you question his real life.

Drink when Brad Pitt looks terrible because his hair or beard are grown out

Drink when you decide that deep down and despite it all, you'd make out with him anyway.

Drink when you realize the only dress you can pull off is Helen Mirren's and even then...no.

Drink when they do some kind if montage with classic movies and you spend the whole time trying to remember what the song is in the background and it turns out to be the theme to Dragonheart. (Or possibly Last of the Mohicans, but really, it's probably Dragonheart. 1:40. Trust me.)

Drink when Billy Crystal comes out and you start weeping for days past, even though you are only in your twenties.

Drink when Billy Crystal looks at someone he knows in the audience and smiles like a kindly grandfather.

Drink when they start off with Supporting Actress and you're all, "Oh so I guess we're just starting this thing right away. No big deal, supporting actresses aren't people, too. They don't need time to collect themselves."

Drink whether or not Sookie wins. Either way you're going to need a drink for this moment.


Drink every time they list a nominee and you say, "Who?"

Drink when someone thanks Harvey Weinstein and you say, "Why?"

Drink when someone says something abrasively Liberal and you're like UGH but really you technically agree with them.

Drink when they do the In Memoriam and you're like, "Wow this is lame this y-- wait, HE died?! Awwwwww! *sniff, sniff* I LOVE the In Memoriam!"

Drink when that person is Grandpa Joe.

Drink when everyone cheers extra for Whitney Houston because they will and fine, I'll let it happen because I can't stop it.

Drink when people act surprised that Disney•Pixar won the award.

Drink any time you involuntarily roll your eyes.

Drink when Sookie cries and so you start crying because you're best friends and you have a bond that shall not be broken.

Drink every time Dustin Hoffman is amazing.

Drink when an actor tries to make a joke off the cuff and it fails miserably.

Drink when an actor makes a joke and it fails miserably, but at home you're like, "BAH HA HA! Good one, Steve Martin."

Drink when an actress comes out from the back and you hold your breath. Not because of her beauty, but because you're terrified that if anyone breathes, she might trip on her train.

Drink when someone makes a joke about Tom Hanks and they cut to him and he immediately goes along with the joke and suddenly you're pregnant.

Likewise Aunt Meryl.

Drink when the music cuts in on the second guy and he just wants to thank his wife and kids so you feel bad for him, but also get off the damn stage, there are actors to look at.

Drink each time you ponder the fact that if actors are terrible at reading teleprompters, then WHO IS GOOD AT IT.

Drink whenever you really want someone to win and then some schmo gets it instead and they're on stage crying happy tears and this is a pivotal moment in their lives and you're sitting at home throwing popcorn at the screen yelling "Oh boo hoo, you no-talent CLOWN."

Drink when Billy Crystal comes out and you're like "Oh, right, this show technically has a host. Why is this supposed to be such a hard job again?"

Drink when they finally finish off with Best Film but they spent so long on sound design and cinematography that you're worn out and don't remember why you started on this grand adventure in the first place.


Any others I missed? Comment with your own! Especially if you've seen the movies this year and know more about how this is going to go down than I do.

5 College Courses I Wish I'd Taken

In college there are a certain number of prerequisite classes you have to take to graduate. Colleges realize that they only offer you about 6 classes at most (for me, it was 3) that pertain to your hopeful occupation, and they really want to squeeze as much money out of you/your parents/Richard & Emily Gilmore as they can. So they pile on all these classes you supposedly MUST take to graduate, claiming they'll make you well-rounded. Then, depending on your major, they add and subtract to these prerequisites at whim. For example, as an Advertising major, I fulfilled my math requirements with "Intro To Statistics" and "Teaching Elementary School Math." I doubt my Engineering compadres got away so easily.

The thing is, I'm not entirely convinced that these classes actually helped us in life. Some did, sure. Without Sociology, I would have no idea how racist I am. And Psych 100 was the only reason I understood the Office episode where Jim trains Dwight with Altoids. But do I really need to know how shale is created? And yet I took Geology. Do I really need to know about the many forms of the Venus? And yet I took "Women In Prehistory". *Sigh*...I has almost forgotten. So close.

So here are a few classes that I didn't take in college, but wish I had.


Cinema Studies
I actually did take a few of these classes. We didn't have any filmmaking courses, so I thought these might be useful for a future ad producer. I even considered it as a minor until I realized that I didn't need a minor. Then I decided not to bust my hump all the way to graduation. But looking back on those classes, they were 90% movie watching. Most of my movie knowledge comes from either these classes, or Joe forcing me to watch the Godfather. I wish I'd kept with these classes, because this still happens way too often-
Friend: "Have you seen _______ ?"
Emily: "No, sorry."
Friend: "WHAT?!?!?!?!??!?!!" *Fire*
Emily: "But it's been in my Netflix queue for two years...does that help?"

Mental Math
I've said it before and I'll say it again. There is absolutely no reason I should have taken pre-calculus in high school, except for the fact that it helped me and Kim become better friends again. The class I wish I'd taken in college to compensate is one that I'm not sure exists. Anywhere. But that class is called "Mental Math" and you come in every day and learn how to pay restaurant bills with a large group and how to tip cab drivers after they press that button and the number goes up and you had already planned out how much you owe with tip but wait now the price is back down to its original number and you can't think on your feet like that and GAAAAH just give me two back.

Political Science
Oh, you better believe I avoided this plague like the class--I mean--this class like the plague. OR DO I. Why in the holy hell mother of house minority leaders would I have subjected myself to discussing politics....and then being TESTED on it? What kind of ruthless, Godless world would I have to live in? Well the answer is: this one. And it sucks. But as an adult, I've realized that I can't run from politics. They find you. They hunt you down. And they make you SO. ANGRY. And a class about Political Science or Government (I mean besides the one I took in high school where my teacher showed us related films every day, including The American President and NO, I am not joking) might have turned out to be good for me.

Photography
I never took these classes because they required you to buy all the equipment yourself. Art majors took some pretty awesome classes, but JEEZ do they have to pay for it. Literally. Well anyway, I wish that I did take a class in photography for the obvious reason that I wish I took awesome photos on purpose. Anyone can point, shoot, and accidentally catch their cat in a hilarious position. But I want to be able to do that a LOT. I want to know how photographers can make their images so sharp and poignant and I'm stuck with a bunch of washed out photos of my friends in bars. This is the one class that I'm actually working toward taking. I bought a Groupon the other day for a single Digital Photography For Beginners class. Problem: I don't have a digital camera yet. I'm waiting until I have a job, and the Groupon doesn't expire until May.

Wine Tasting
This was actually an offered class at Illinois. Given the name, of course it was filled up by 5th year seniors with early-early-early-insanely-early registration and I never bothered. I hear it was actually a very hard class. I believe it, considering how little I know about wine: a) Does it cost under $5? b) Mmm, this tastes like wine--more please. Obviously there are also plenty of Groupons for this, too. Joe and I got one once, but never used it because it turned out to be vaguely shady. We're pretty sure the guy comes to your home and gives you a private tasting. Which is SUPER WEIRD. We didn't know that when we bought it because they didn't specify that. It just said "Wine Tasting for Two" which we assumed meant "The coupon pays for two people to come to our class" not "For Two and ONLY two." So that one is moot. We'll have to get on that one eventually.

Those are my classes. How about you? Any classes you regret not taking, real or imaginary?

My Emmy Fail

The Emmy's were fun. And funny. And sparkly. Just as they should be.

But, sa-weet Jesus, I got every single one of my predictions wrong. If you know me, you probably are not putting any money on any decisions I make anyway (and thank God for that, because you would be a poor, poor person if you did.) But I apologize for leading you all astray. That'll teach you to trust my instincts.

Also




That is all.

I Want To Live In A Giant Glass Box, Or: The MSI's Month At The Museum

FINALLY! I can tell you about the puppet situation. I knew you were all dying to hear about it.

So remember when I showed you the nerdiest thing I'd ever done: make a puppet and have it recite the Brady Bunch theme song? But I couldn't tell you why?

Well I can finally tell you why!

Last year, Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry had an awesome idea: "Month At The Museum." They had someone live in their museum for an entire month. They decided to do it again this year, and applications were due on Monday so I can tell you about it now because it will be too late for you all to apply and beat me! BWA HA HA HA HA!



Facts about Month At The Museum:

1. There is a glass box in the museum where you are expected to hang out in for a bit every day. But you are also allowed to walk around the museum and talk to people and explore the exhibits. This is the girl from last year in her glass case of emotion:


2. You don't sleep or shower in the glass box, there are private rooms for such things. So don't worry, no one sees your bits.

3. Things you DO do (tee hee...doodoo): Talk to kids and strangers, blog every day, maintain a Twitter and Facebook account, sleep in exhibits, learn about science. Hi, SERIOUSLY? How awesome would I be at this gig? REALLY AWESOME. *Does the dancing banana dance to relieve nervous/excited tension*



4. You are cut off from real life. No personal Facebook or phone calls or nothin'. You are the museum's hamster for the month and I am fine with it. It'll be like living in 2002. You know, the Stone Age.

5. You don't go to work, so I would have to take a month unpaid leave. But you DO get $10,000! Question: Do I currently make ten grand a month at my job? Answer: Does Rory Gilmore make good romantic decisions? Clearer Answer: Heck no.

6. The girl who won last year, Kate, was AWESOME and totally hard to live up to. She was funny, adorable, energetic...everything I hope I would be but am terrified I would fall short of. A big problem, too, is that we seem really similar at first. Young white girls living in Chicago without a science background. I doubt the museum wants everyone to think they're type casting, especially since this second time around might also be the last time. "Hey, remember when the museum asked the same girl to live in the museum for two years?"....I get it. But I also think I would kick major tail at it. So the best I could do when applying was show off my differences (Like, for example, my puppet skillz), make sure they see how amazing I would be at this gig even if I am similar to Kate in some ways, and keep my lips shut when talking to friends so that no one else would apply and further ruin my chances. (Again with the evil laughter)

Last year 1500 people applied for the month. I think it's possible the numbers will go two ways: Either they'll be astronomically bigger because more people will have heard about it after all the press from last year, OR it will dwindle down to way way less people because Kate will make people doubt their own levels of coolness. Which, of course, would be very sad because I'm sure there are tons of people who would do really well. But of course I'm secretly hoping this is the case so they will be forced to choose me and my awkward charm.

For now, I sit and await the verdict. They won't notify anyone about the next round until mid-September, and the official month starts mid-October. They do phone interviews and then have people come in. AND they had us all create a 60 second video which they have everyone vote on. I don't think the voting determines the winner, but it might help sway them once they see who the public likes. So nothing to do but sit and wait for now and continue to live like the kind of person who would live in a museum without a second thought. But when the time comes and they post my video (because I'm nothing if not a positive thinker) you all WILL vote for me. Yes?

Who I Think Will Win The Emmys

Well the Emmy noms have been announced and I know you're all wondering, "Yes, but what does EMILY think about all this?" Because, yeah. I should be your go-to for all things celebrity. I know SO VERY MUCH about them and the lives they lead. Oh, the things I know. My stars.

In all seriousness you might find my opinions about as necessary to your life as stories about where Freddie Prinze Jr. is now (Actually...wait a minute. Where IS that guy?! Bad analogy, now I find myself INCREDIBLY concerned about the whereabouts of FPJ.)

But it's my blog. And in the wise words of Cartman, I do what I want. So here we go!

BEST DRAMA SERIES: Boardwalk Empire, Friday Night Lights, Dexter, Game of Thrones, The Good Wife, Mad Men.

I don't watch any of these shows, but if B.E. is the show that's supposed to knock Mad Men off its high horse, so be it.

BEST COMEDY SERIES: Modern Family, 30 Rock, Glee, The Office, The Big Bang Theory, Parks and Recreation.

Except for the BBT (CBS shows and I...we just don't get along), I watch all of these shows with a blind fervor. And while I loves me some Office, anyone who actually watches Thursday TV should know that in 2011, Community, which wasn't even nominated, was head and shoulders above the Office and that is a scientific fact.

DRAMA ACTRESS: Julianna Margulies, The Good Wife; Elisabeth Moss, Mad Men; Mariska Hargitay, Law & Order: SVU; Kathy Bates, Harry’s Law; Connie Britton, Friday Night Lights and Mireille Enos, The Killing.

Elisabeth Moss, you're not all that with your short bangs and your lipstick ads (okay, fine, I haven't watched Mad Men since Season 2 and I have no idea what's going on in that show even though I am in Advertising and should definitely watch it. GET OFF MY BACK ABOUT IT, WHAT ARE YOU, MY DENTIST? I'LL FLOSS WHEN I'M GOOD AND READY TO FLOSS. Is it so wrong to want Kathy Bates to win because you think she'd be the kind of straight-talking aunt who tells it like it is and isn't afraid to tell off your new boyfriend at Christmas when she finds out he has no plans after college? IS IT?) Oh my God, where am I?


COMEDY ACTRESS: Tina Fey, 30 Rock; Edie Falco, Nurse Jackie; Amy Poehler, Parks and Recreation; Laura Linney, The Big C; Martha Plimpton, Raising Hope; Melissa McCarthy, Mike & Molly.

Oh but Melissa McCarthy! Sookie. I love you. I even love you when you are pooping in a sink, THAT is how much I love you. But Amy Poehler winning an Emmy is as close as I will ever get to winning an Emmy.

DRAMA ACTOR: Jon Hamm, Mad Men; Steve Buscemi, Boardwalk Empire; Kyle Chandler, Friday Night Lights; Michael C. Hall, Dexter; Hugh Laurie, House; Timothy Olyphant, Justified.

Whatever you want, Jon Hamm. I'll just....it doesn't...whatever I can do to make you happy. You look like Superman.

COMEDY ACTOR: Steve Carell, The Office; Alec Baldwin, 30 Rock; Jim Parsons, Big Bang Theory; Matt LeBlanc, Episodes, Louis C.K., Louie; Johnny Galecki, Big Bang Theory.

Although I think it would be awesome if Louis C.K. won it, The Emmys has become as predictable as an SVU episode. So yes, I think Michael's last season will win him the Emmy. Also, aw! Joey! *Pats Matt LeBlanc on his now-silver head*


SUPPORTING DRAMA ACTOR: Andre Braugher, Men of a Certain Age; John Slattery, Mad Men; Alan Cumming, The Good Wife; Peter Dinklage, Game of Thrones; Josh Charles, The Good Wife; Walton Goggins, Justified.

One time I had a dream about some actor but I couldn't even remember his name or what he was in, I just remembered he was the guy who kind of looked like Pee Wee Herman. Joe suggested "Alan Cumming" and I realized that was it. We went out to breakfast. Who was on the TV at the restaurant? Alan Cumming. That is all.

SUPPORTING COMEDY ACTOR: Ty Burrell, Modern Family; Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Modern Family; Ed O’Neill, Modern Family; Eric Stonestreet, Modern Family; Jon Cryer, Two and a Half Men; Chris Colfer, Glee.

I don't know guys...I just have a feeling about this one. And can I get a HECK YES to the Modern Family love? *does the Baby Mama exercise ball "Oooh-OOOOOOH!"* Oh my God, I can't even talk about OTHER CATEGORIES without mentioning Amy Poehler.

SUPPORTING COMEDY ACTRESS: Julie Bowen, Modern Family; Sofia Vergara, Modern Family; Jane Lynch, Glee; Betty White, Hot in Cleveland; Kristen Wiig, Saturday Night Live; Jane Krakowski, 30 Rock.

Was that...was that a question?
But GOD I seriously want to awkwardly hold hands with ALL these women.

SUPPORTING DRAMA ACTRESS: Archie Panjabi, The Good Wife; Kelly Macdonald, Boardwalk Empire; Christine Baranski, The Good Wife; Michelle Forbes, The Killing; Margo Martindale, Justified; Christina Hendricks, Mad Men.

She deserves some recognition besides "YOWZA, HAVE YOU SEEN THE GAZONGAS ON THAT THING?!" But I also want her to become a spokeswoman against Victoria's Secret

MOVIE OR MINISERIES: Mildred Pierce, HBO; Downtown Abbey, PBS; The Kennedys, ReelzChannel; Cinema Verite, HBO; Too Big To Fail, HBO; Pillars of the Earth, Starz.

I don't know...whatever. I don't mess with Scientologists. I have seen their Hollywood compound.

REALITY COMPETITION: So You Think You Can Dance, Top Chef, The Amazing Race, American Idol, Dancing With the Stars, Project Runway.

My biggest reason for choosing this show is because I am currently very hungry. But it's also the only show of these that doesn't make me do the Liz Lemon eye roll.


REALITY HOST: Jeff Probst, Survivor; Cat Deeley, So You Think You Can Dance; Phil Keoghan, Amazing Race; Tom Bergeron, Dancing With the Stars; Ryan Seacrest, American Idol.

Tom Bergeron, you will NEVER be Bob Saget. NEVER. (wait for it) NEVER. That's all I wanted to say. Otherwise whatever. Because WHY is this an actual Emmy category? Who cares??

VARIETY, MUSIC, OR COMEDY SERIES: The Colbert Report, Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, Saturday Night Live, Conan, Real Time with Bill Maher, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

Again, just a feeling. Don't have a good reason. I just gots me that tingly feeling about it.

Okay, that is all. Anyone want to fight me about it? What are your opinions? Who do you want to win? I want to know!

Odd Jobs

Well. Someone from my high school posted the sonogram for their second child on Facebook. And because I am still not in the mood for booze (hurrr) after this weekend (hurrr) and thinking about alcohol makes me dry heave (hurrrr) but I still need to drown my sorrows, I've found the next best thing: licking the Hint of Lime off Tostidos tortilla chips. It's helping.

Here's the thing: I'm not ready for a second child. I am not ready for a first child. Like, AT ALL. In fact, lately I've been having some near mental-breakdown issues where I completely doubt everything about the life I'm living. Well, really it's more about my job.

Basically what happens in my brain is this:

Bah, this one part of my job is the worst.
Well this sucks, I don't even like doing this.
Wait, am I going to have to do what I don't like forever?
Wait, am I going to get laid off if I don't do a good job at this thing I don't like?
Wait, why am I doing a job that I'm going to get laid off from when I'm 40 and then can't find something because I've become totally obsolete and I'll be forced to fold socks at Walmart for the rest of my life?!?!?!?!?

And that's when, as Jan Levenson says, I collapse in on myself like a dying star.

Basically this:


These are the times that I start considering my options. And, as I see it, I have four potential other jobs that I would be willing to seriously consider.


1. Puppeteer


Ya'll know my blood runs Muppet. But honestly, I could see myself making a job out of entertaining on stage with a puppet, Muppet-brand or otherwise. There's something in me that just HAS to talk to inanimate objects (cabinet doors, boxes of dry pasta, running water...) and give voiceless things voices. Every pet and baby I've come in contact with in the past 10 years has had a voice. Each with their own personality and timbre. Taxi finished every sentence with "you know, and stuff." Charlie craved attention. Wally has a 1930's gangster voice. Regina is the first one to continuously threaten to kill me. I really think I could make a puppet show based on my pets. And no, I have never written a more depressing sentence.

I'm so serious about this one, I started legitimately looking into Puppetry schools. There's one in Connecticut. Puppet fantasies AND Gilmore Girl fantasies all wrapped into one? Be still my little beating heart.

2. Kindergarten Teacher


And I know this goes against what I just said about not being ready for kids, but Kindergarten teaching is different than owning and operating your own mini human. I'm pretty sure everyone I say this to has laughed in my face, little specks of spittle flying every which way. But I'm serious. I am really good with 5 year olds. BUT REALLY good. I used to nanny two boys and I MAY have learned the name, number, color, size, and wheel quality of all the Thomas the Tank Engine characters.

The most attractive part of being a Kindergarten teacher, though, is that I'm pretty sure it's the exact opposite to being in Advertising. Instead of constantly trying to figure out how to weasel my products into the hearts and minds of people who could give a damn, I would be teaching children how to become better people. In fact, I wouldn't have to spend another single second pondering an ad. I could even try to IGNORE THEM. Also, I could wear vests with puffy paint on them. And who doesn't love the idea of that?


3. Junior High English Teacher


Honestly, I think I may be a glutton for punishment. But I really like the idea of this one. GONE are the days of kids who can't tell the difference between your and you're FOR I SHALL ATTACK THEM WITH THE NORTH if they ever forgot it.

Also, I remember my high school English classes as being one long string of teachers wailing "WHERE IS THE 'SO WHAT'?!" and we would wail back "WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU MEAN!" Do you guys remember that? Did ANYONE get it back then? I know Adrienne and I didn't, that's for damn sure. And it wasn't until I started reading books for pleasure again that I actually figured it out, all on my own. And I want to try and pass on that knowledge to the childrenz, before they even hit high school. Because yeah. I'm ambitious.

4. TV comedy writer.



This is my newest idea. It's an interesting one to me right now. It involves me getting to be raunchier and more authentic than I can be in Advertising, which I like. And I get to write long copy versus headlines, which I clearly like. And I could be funny. And successful. And write myself into a show with Future Husband John Krasinski, Amy Poehler and (what the hell) Aunt Meryl and Tom Hanks.


For now I'm sticking with Advertising. I mean, I DID almost sell an ad with a flying squirrel in it the other day, so the job does have its high points.

My Own Good Fortune

My fortune cookie just informed me that I will inherit a large sum of money.
Reasons why this is important:

1. It's been a long time since a fortune cookie has given me an actual fortune and not told me in so many words that I am "well-liked."

2. I'm pretty sure I've gotten this fortune before. Which means it HAS to be true, right?? And not that they recycle the same general blather to multiple restaurants?

3. I don't have anyone from whom to inherit a large sum of money (oh EXCUSE me, my family is peopled with hard-working, Main Street Americans who came to this country on the Mayflower with nothing but a dream and a fear of witches, so why don't you BACK THE HELL OFF) but if Gilmore Girls is anything like real life--and I'm almost positive that it is--there is always a possibility that my spunky-yet-responsible attitude will land me into piles and piles of money that I hardly worked for. So there's THAT.

4. The Dream House I created for an assignment in the 3rd grade had a "Gladiators"-style ceiling crawler (At first I googled "Gladiators harness". I do not suggest you do this.) which led into a Scrooge McDuck room full of money for me to swim through. A) Can you tell that my childhood imagination often fell just short of pure plagiarism? and B) This is still one of my dream rooms, physics of metal coins be damned! And when I inherit a large sum of money, why YES I believe I WILL be making that happen.



(PS. That fortune cookie is from Natalie Dee. Go to her.)

Date Night Lessons: Tacos Are Bad, Pixar is Good.

This Friday Joe and I had our first Date Night as a cohabiting couple.

Question: Don't you see each other every day?
Answer: Um, yes?

Question: Ohhh, but going to the gym and making curry chicken and falling asleep does not a romantic couple make?
Answer: Correctamundo.

Question: What if you watch a few episodes of Gilmore Girls while you eat? Is it a date then?
Answer: Oh, YOU.

So! First we decided on a restaurant: a nice Mexican joint with a name that is similar to "zapatos" but is not. I keep calling it Zapatitos, which really just means "little shoes." Which is ADORABLE and the future name of my awesome Mexican restaurant for toddlers. It'll be a hit.

But once we got to Zapatitos, we discovered it was INSANE. I mean, yeah. Friday at 7, I guess you can expect that. But it was craziness. Our waitress explained that there was a group of 80 off behind the curtained area, hence the added chaos. Whatever. We ordered fancy tacos. Later, a bunch of emergency trucks pulled up and casual firemen (suspenders, muscles, that kind of thing) walked in. The waitress decided we were cool enough to let us know that the party of 80 was ACTUALLY Ashley Simpson and her husband, Fallout Boy. Or whoever. And the emergency vehicles were because one of her friends passed out and had to be hooked up to an IV.

And OF COURSE she did.

I'm sorry, but is there anything surprising to you about the sentence, "Ashley Simpson and her posse are creating a low-key annoyance on my life."

No, there is not. I can tell you right now that there is not.

So whatever. The steak/bacon tacos were good, the chicken ones were eh, we paid and made our way to the theater for the most mature date night movie ever: Toy Story 3.

NO SPOILERS TO BE ALERTED FOR. I PROMISE TO BE GOOD.

I don't have to tell you that the movie was amazing. I mean, Pixar. Come on. And I don't have to tell you that Stepdad Tom Hanks turned in a magnificent performance. Don Rickles was hilarious, Ernest Becomes A Slinky Dog was confusing (BUT! BUT! You died?!...wait, right? No wait, you're alive. No wait....you're dead.)
Really, the whole gang was great. And oh, the hijinks!

The important thing was, like after ANY Toy Story movie, I completely freaked out that I didn't appreciate my toys enough when I had them, that I didn't treat them well when I became older, and that whatever happened to them, they are sad to feel unloved and without their friends.

Which, I understand, it's all a made-up concept by the people of Pixar. And there are plenty of other people whose idea was to make toys come alive and kill you in the night. But I grew up with Toy Story. When the first one came out, I was at the perfect age. I was in the fifth grade. I was becoming jaded and growing up. And my toys were becoming less of a play-thing and more of a pile in a corner. HOW COULD I?!?!?! I remember the day I saw that movie, I took all my stuffed animals and set them up with me in the bed. There was juuuuuuust enough room for me.

This is what Toy Story has done. Okay, maybe I have an extended imagination. Or maybe that's why I'm a copywriter. Either way, Joe and I are currently up to our necks in He-Man, Ninja Turtles, and teddy bears (the Turtles are mine, by the by.) All of whom I feel the need to apologize to, just in case I took away all their friends--OR MY MOTHER DID--*glare, glare*

So yes. That was my weekend. I spent the majority of my time making sure that all my toys were comfortable and among friends. The rest of my weekend was spent in the bathroom, as a direct result of those damn Ashely Simpson-ruined tacos. Something ain't right at Zapatitos.



PS. I encourage comments. I GREATLY enjoy them. Always. Please leave some and be my friend. But please no TS3 spoilers. Especially don't mention the *wink wink* or the *nudge nudge, say no more, say no more*.

It Was a Dark And Stormy Rush Hour

Sorry about that outburst yesterday, folks. But I was holding onto that anger for a solid 3 hours and my face was getting red and there was smoke coming out of my ears--and not in a Bugs Bunny way. In a dry ice way...like smoke seepage.

So tonight was fun! And by fun, I of course mean terrifying and horrible.

For those not in the Chicagoland area, there was a teeeeeeny storm. Some might call it "Satan's Revenge." I call it "WHERE IS MY FAMILY WHAT ARE THEY DOING WHAT ABOUT THE DOG WHERE IS JOE IS HE ALIVE WHY DOESN'T MY PHONE GET RECEPTION FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!!!!!!1"

Honestly, my largest concern was Joe driving home with barely-existent windshield wipers. My second was my mother living in the town where The News had decided was ground zero, and my third concern was the nerves of my family's dog. And don't even tell me that you wouldn't be concerned about this puddin' face:



Note that I'm not in any way concerned about Wally, the family cat. The thing is roughly the size of Massachusetts. He probably spent the storm outside like this:


I had my own mini adventure during the storm. It was ALMOST enough for a comic strip.

So right when I decided to hunker down in my room (away from the windows,) the sirens started going off. And hi, I'm on the top floor of my apartment building. It's only the 8th floor, granted, but still. When the rain on the roof doesn't sound like rain so much as straight-up flowing water, you listen to the tornado sirens. So I went to the underground parking lot. Except being downstairs, I couldn't get reception. And God forbid I go four seconds without Gmail. So I found a stairwell and worked my way up. And, well, yadda yadda yadda, I ended up locking myself outside under a doorway awning. And I got majorly splashed with alley water by a passing car. Eventually I had to run around in the crazy rain until I got to an open door. It was a whole thing.

But I survived, slightly wet and smelling like muffler fluid (is that a thing?) and all ended well. I think. I mean I haven't gotten an official word back from my mom to tell me that she's okay (and that the dog hasn't imploded from nervous shaking.)

So Joe and I are officially drinking red wine and watching Gilmore Girls (I'm not saying it was his choice. Did I say that was his choice? I don't think I said it was his choice.) so I'm going to go ahead and stop typing because the wine is officially kicking in.

Hope you're all okay! Unless you didn't get hit with Satan's Revenge, in which case, hope you had some other horrible thing happen to you. What can I say? Misery loves company.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I love you all. Vote for me! EJS '010

Why I Suck At Sports

WELL! It has been quite a successful vacation so far. My problems are far, far away from me back in evil, smelly Chicago (I'm sorry, Chicago. I didn't mean that. I love you. *pet pet* Although you are kind of smelly sometimes.) We've been to the beach, went to a jazz club, I ate fish--THAT'S RIGHT, ladies and gentlemen. I, Emily, ate fish. Grouper. And I only gagged a LITTLE. So suck on that. Ew but don't because sucking on fish is--*ACK ACK*--too late, gag reflex kicking in again.

Anyway, this isn't Emily's Private Diary (as is evidenced by the absence of Mead-brand notebook with KEEP OUT written in sharpie.) This is a blog. And today I'd like to discuss sports. And where is this coming from? QUESTION AND ANSWER TIME!!!

Q: Did Joe and his parents go golfing this afternoon?
A: Why yes, yes they did.

Q: Did I not bother to go with them, knowing my past (one) experiences with golf?
A: True.

Q: Did I instead choose to spend the day lounging and eating a 100 calorie ice cream bar I found in the back of their freezer?
A: Of course.

Q: Is Gilmore Girls softly playing in the background?
A: Oh, you.


Yes, I chose to be a hermitting recluse whilst the rest of the gang went away to whack a few golf balls hither thither and yon. And no. I have never played real golf before. But let's just say, you don't have to go to Indonesia to know they make terrible hot dogs.

Wow, I really need to work on my metaphors.

Here's the thing about me and team sports (and I'm counting golf as a team sport because other people are relying on you to EVENTUALLY hit the damn thing. Therefore, team sport.) We don't mesh. Reasons we don't mesh:

1. I am extremely uncoordinated. I run into door frames on a daily basis.
2. I don't like competition and the animosity that inevitably arises from it.
3. I get easily frustrated by things I am not good at right away.
4. I only like looking like an idiot when it's on MY terms. I'll punch myself repeatedly as long as it's on stage and people are laughing. But smack my face with a volleyball once and that's it. Game over.
5. I hate disappointing people. I didn't do homework for my health, people. I did it because I couldn't grasp the concept of NOT doing something I was specifically told to do. Same with sports. You tell me to hit that ping pong ball OVER the net? Damn me if I can't get that to happen for you.

I did play one team sport ONCE. I was six. It was tee-ball. We were the gold team. They put me over in left field, and any time the ball came to me, I would back away from it as carefully as a left-wing politician questioned about gay marriage. If that didn't work, I'd just chuck it to whoever was flailing their arms the most wildly. It was a pretty good strategy. Afterall, I won a trophy. Of course, everyone on every team got a trophy...but it was shiny. After that, I decided to stick to more fruitful endeavors, like chasing my brother around the yard and learning to quote Titanic back to front with Michelle.

So no. I am not good at sports. I don't like playing sports. I never really got into watching sports, either. Although, I think watching sports is like my realization with coffee. Walk with me here:

My parents drink their coffee black. So when I was young, I thought that in order to like coffee, you had to like it black. Imagine my glee when I discovered that you could dump 8 sugar packets and a gallon of cream into your cup and still call it coffee. Likewise is sports. Growing up, I thought in order to enjoy football, you had to sit there through the whole game, understand WHY they were throwing yellow thingies onto the field, and that you couldn't giggle every time they say "tight end" (tee hee!) But now I realize that you can call yourself a sports fan whilst spilling light beer down your shirt and yelling things like "GET HIM! No! Get HIM!!" and that makes a world of difference in my mind. I can get involved in that kind of spectatorship like WHOAH. Just not the kind where you need to know things.

So when Joe suggested that he and his parents go golfing today, I said mazel tov and good day. I attempted a golfing range once. I was horrendous, and that was quite enough for me. Moreover, it was quite enough for the ladies, if you know what I'm saying. Hell, I've used the excuse before and I'll use it again. These girls don't golf. I mean, look at this stance.

In what world would I be able to stand with my arms like that? I will tell you what world.

A world where I am good at sports.

Under the Influence of Awkward

Who got a Prom Hanks shirt today? I got a Prom Hanks shirt today. THAT'S RIGHT.

There was a volunteer thank you lunch today at Piece (also the site of me and Joe's first date. Joe and I's first date. Joe and my's first date. NOTHING IS RIGHT!!) And they were handing out free T-shirts to everyone for the event, with a chance to trade for a Prom Hanks shirt if desired. OH I DESIRE, sir. I desire.


The volunteer lunch in and of itself went...fine. I don't really know anyone so well as to start sitting down and having a convo. I mean, I recognized people. But I'm just not the kind of person who starts up conversations willy nilly. As you may recall, I am usually talked TO. Not the other way around. So when confronted with a large group of people I don't know, I AM that girl from a 50's prom who came alone to stand in the bleachers and look sad. That is me.

Eventually I managed my way into a group conversation by mentioning that being unemployed is actually great at first until you realize you're spending your days watching Gilmore Girls. Which then turned into a conversation about Lauren Graham, which then turned into how much boys like her, which then turned into how hot Zooey Deschanel is, which turned into me coming across as SLIGHTLY more lesbionic than I am.

The conversation spiraled out of control from there and I again found myself alone and staring silently at a few limp pieces of salad on my plate that I had decided weren't worth stabbing with my fork. So I decided to go. I stuck it out for over an hour. I think that's pretty good for me.

OH! I didn't mention, too, that Dave Eggers was there. He's a writer and he wrote the screenplay for Where The Wild Things Are and Away We Go (which I stupidly packed away for the month! GAH!) So once I decided to leave, I accosted him with my damn Wild Things DVD and an enormous permanent marker (the only one I could find) to get him to sign it. And that's when things get awkward. GOD, why do I get so clammed up around Z-list people? What hope do I have of becoming one myself some day?! Anyway, I walked up to him and shoved the DVD in his face. He shook my hand (Oh right, that's what you do when you meet someone, I thought.) Then I handed him the marker and said, "Sorry all I have is a huge thing."
"What's that?" he said. And for a second I considered That's-What-She-Saiding Dave Eggers, writer of Where The Wild Things Are screenplay. But instead I just stumbled over myself.
"All I have is..this...uh, uh...whatsit. Marker." GOD. For once I would like my brain to remember the names of COMMON HOUSEHOLD ITEMS. So he signed it, and I'm pretty sure I made him anxious because he almost misspelled the word "stay" in "Stay wild, Dave Eggers" He handed it back and I bolted.

So I think that's all the awkward I can handle for today. OH BUT WAIT!! I'm meeting more z-listers today! I'm seeing Avenue Q and might get to meet the puppeteers afterward. Yikes, it's going to be deadly.

I need to watch more Gilmore Girls to calm the nerves.

Once again, Lorelai says it best.

Guys, I found the perfect way to explain why I hate practical jokes. If you will please allow me to quote one miss Lorelai Gilmore:

"I hate when I’m an idiot and I don’t know it. I like to be aware of my idiocy; to really revel in it, take pictures...I feel we missed a prime Christmas card opportunity.”

I don't think I can explain it any better than that. *Bows and walks out*

The Conversationalist

Just kidding! Here's a post right here!

I’m always determined that the next place I go, the next thing I do, I will stop being so damn awkward.

I have yet to reach that goal.

I am seriously just the worst conversationalist, especially with new people. I actually know where I go wrong, too—I don’t ask questions. And for this, I blame my friends and my parents.

I have grown up around a series of people who have no problem telling their life story, whether solicited or not. So my repertoire of inquiries have always stopped at, “Hi, how are you?” No more questions needed. My dad could take that question and run with it until your ears fell off. Literally, if you let him, you would probably just whither away in the chair you sat. And the first to go would be the ears.

But, believe it or not, there are people in the world who will not just talk for hours on end without breathing. Weird, I know. And when I come across such people, I have no idea what to do. Atrophied from disuse, questions do not spill out of my mouth with an unwarranted flow of care and concern. They march out, like a red-coated army that you can see coming from across the battlefield.

“So where do you live, Emily?”
“Wicker Park.” *Pause. Pause. Pause. Pause.* “Where do YOU live?”
“Up at Belmont and Sheffield.”
“So like…that’s cool.” *Pause. Pause. Pause. Pause. “Have you lived there long?” (WHAT? You have twenty stories about that area! What about restaurants? El stops?! Getting locked outside there with two beagles and a Westie?!?!? Hellooo?)

Maybe it’s just that I hate small talk. I’d much rather get real with you. But when you just meet someone, you’re not allowed to say such things. I mean, how do you segue into the fact that you’d eat all your food by stabbing it with toothpicks if it were socially acceptable? How do you bring up your debilitating fear of one day having a daughter and not becoming the Laurelai to her Rory?

So I continue to bite my tongue, to the extent that I can’t let go of it to form simple sentences that will not scare people. I still think one day I will figure it out. One day I will be able to have a stimulating conversation with a near stranger. One day, when I’m a grown up.