I feel like I'm really bad at blogging lately.
The problem is, my mind is filled 100% with finding a job in--and moving to--San Francisco. There just isn't room for anything else. I want to give you awesome anecdotes about the crazy stories of my life (and what crazy stories they are, my stars), but as soon as I sit down to write about something it quickly devolves into a breakdown. Something like:
This weekend I went to a party called "Spuds 'N Suds" where everyone had to bring a potato dish and beer. I brought sweet potatoes because I wanted practice for when I make them in DC for Thanksgiving with Joe's family. I'll be flying there from San Francisco. I'm moving to San Francisco. I don't have a job in San Francisco yet. I'M NEVER GOING TO FIND A JOB BECAUSE I'M USELESS AND LAME AND EVERYONE HATES ME AND I'M NOT CREATIVE AND I NEVER HAVE GOOD IDEAS AND I MIGHT AS WELL JUST GET A JOB STUFFING ENVELOPES AND LIVING IN JOLIET BECAUSE NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD AGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN.
See what I mean? It's pretty bad.
I'd like to think I'm getting a little better each day, though. Surrounding myself with positive thinking and helpful lists and fun-sounding back-up plans. Seriously, here's what I'm thinking: if no advertising agency wants to hire me (BREATHE, EMILY. STAY WITH US. WE LOVE YOU.) I'm going to give it a few months(?) and then get a job as a secretary so I can (just barely) pay for rent and food, then I'm going to take stand-up classes and improv classes and spend my free time writing sketches and spec scripts.
I think it's a stellar back-up, in my opinion. Besides the fact that is still leads to me never saving up money, maybe one day I will be rolling in it after working on TREAT YO SELF: The Donna/Tom spin-off show and THEN I'll finally be able to buy luxurious things like a car and socks and dental insurance. One can dream.
Showing posts with label If my life doesn't end up like Home Improvement I will have failed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label If my life doesn't end up like Home Improvement I will have failed. Show all posts
Monday, October 17, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Home Improvement Reunion Picture?! YES AND PLEASE.
Let's go clockwise here, shall we?
1. Mark, I expected nothing less from you.
2. Tim, nice to see you as always.
3. Brad! I know your best days as a dreamy blonde soccer player are behind you, but METH IS NOT THE WAY TO GO!
4. Oh, wow, Heidi looks really goo--WAIT. What is going on with her arm?....And lips?
5. You keep trucking, Al. You just keep on trucking.
6. JTT! You look different...kinda...not really...or do you? Meh, you know what? I'd still date you.
7. Jill. Jill Jill Jill Jill Jill. You are the Jennifer Aniston of TV moms. I'm really banking on this whole "prettier with age" thing so please keep up the good work.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
10 Reasons Why Unemployment Rocks My Pants Off (Literally.)
Well, my freelancing gig is over for now. It was pretty awesome, though. I made connections, I got to write for money, and I think I proved that I actually deserve to be employed. Yippee!
But for now (and through until at least Monday), I am technically unemployed again. And, frankly, I'm pumped.
To explain this, let me take y'all on back to Emily circa February 2009. I spent the morning hopped up on Firing Day adrenaline, wringing my hands and being assured by everyone that there was no way I would be let go. I'm young, I'm hip, and they essentially pay me in shiny rocks.
Cut to that afternoon. Bloodbath. I am holding a neon yellow folder that holds a bunch of papers I've signed promising God-knows-what and a pamphlet with FAQs about Cobra.
Good times.
Our group packed up essentials (for me, that was four Ninja Turtles, my collection of flip flops and a stapler that was not stolen and definitely belonged to me.) We headed home to drink. AND DRINK WE DID. By dinnertime, I was feeling good. I was feeling REAL good. My parents called me once they heard my message and assured me I'd be back on my feet in no time. Jane's mother told her to get fat.
What I remember very distinctly, though, was the realization that I didn't have to go to work that Monday. And that led to the realization that I didn't have to go to work all WEEK. That project I was working on? Done. I am physically not ALLOWED to work on it anymore. And that led me to realize one very specific thing: I could READ. I could pick up a book and I could curl up on the couch, and I could read it. Any book I wanted. Just me, Mr. Darcy, and Charlie.
Since then, I have had a large amount of time to be funemployed. I have also had some good spurts of time to be regular ol' employed. And I have to say, as much as I do love being a copywriter, I am always pretty psyched for unemployment again. Let me break it down for you.
1. Pants.
Do I have to wear them? No I don't.
Do I wear them? Oh you, with your questions.
2. Sleep.
Do I get some? Yes I do.
3. Grocery shopping.
When I'm employed, I'm like the rest of society: I make a list, run in, get only the things I need, go home, realize I've forgotten three essential things, give up, and make myself a peanut butter & turkey sandwich in between two pancakes.
When I'm unemployed, going to the grocery store is an all-day event. I saunter down the aisles. I'm comparing prices, I'm picking out new brands of cheese, I'm taking the time to ponder how many flavors there are of Cheerios, I'm coming up with recipe ideas on the fly...basically, I'm an in-store marketer's dream. Why, what's this? A coupon for 5 cents off Jimmy Dean with any four dozen eggs? What a steal! Let me mosey on back to the meat section and...wait, not this meat section. It must be in another one. Hold on, why aren't the sausages with the bacon? Oh, they're over with the pre-cooked chicken. No, I was just over there. The DAIRY section? Why would they be in the dairy section? Weird.
4. The gym
Not only do I have time to go to the gym when I'm unemployed, I get to choose to go whenever the hell I want to. I don't wake up early, I don't have to plot out a spare hour or so when I can go. I just look at the clock, go "well about that time, eh mate?" pull on my Nikes and walk out the door. And do you know who else is there? No one. No one except a few other poor unemployed schmoes like myself. There are not scary muscle guys on my machines, I even get to choose which elliptical I want (near the front so I can stare out the window, but not too far front where I think people are watching me wiping my bra sweat. And when I realize that I just laughed out loud at something Wilson said to Al, it's okay. Because no one is around me to notice.
5. Charlie time
Question: Is Charlie currently spooning with me and also licking my chin for some reason?
Answer: Not anymore. He has now switched positions so that I am forced to smell his butt.
6 Joe time
This one is pretty key, of course. I figure when Joe and I move in together, I'll inherently see him more. Maybe work will even become a welcome break from seeing his mug. But for now, when I'm employed, I don't get as much face time with the man, which has therefore also equaled less back massages. Because I am dating a boy who gives back massages without asking. Yeah. He's pretty much amazing. You're jealous.
7. Me + TBS = BFFs 4 life
8. Me + internets x Adrienne = constant entertainment
9. Volunteering
I get to volunteer during the day when I am unemployed. Which is sometimes a pain in my ass, but really it's great getting to work with kids and feel like I'm helping things. Again, love copywriting, but am I really helping society in any way by convincing you to buy more shampoo?
10. Bloggery
And finally, I have all the time in the world to blog. Which is really quite nice, considering some of these posts have taken me hours to concoct. And you know what would be a great way to show your appreciation? Why, by clicking over there on the right and voting for this blog on the Blogger's Choice Awards! You can vote for as many as you want in each category--and seriously, you should also vote for 2birds1blog and Hyperbole and a Half. And read them religiously. But also vote for mine! Because, come on. I'm funnier than half those dumb blogs up there right now. Plus, all the cool kids are doing it.
But for now (and through until at least Monday), I am technically unemployed again. And, frankly, I'm pumped.
To explain this, let me take y'all on back to Emily circa February 2009. I spent the morning hopped up on Firing Day adrenaline, wringing my hands and being assured by everyone that there was no way I would be let go. I'm young, I'm hip, and they essentially pay me in shiny rocks.
Cut to that afternoon. Bloodbath. I am holding a neon yellow folder that holds a bunch of papers I've signed promising God-knows-what and a pamphlet with FAQs about Cobra.
Good times.
Our group packed up essentials (for me, that was four Ninja Turtles, my collection of flip flops and a stapler that was not stolen and definitely belonged to me.) We headed home to drink. AND DRINK WE DID. By dinnertime, I was feeling good. I was feeling REAL good. My parents called me once they heard my message and assured me I'd be back on my feet in no time. Jane's mother told her to get fat.
What I remember very distinctly, though, was the realization that I didn't have to go to work that Monday. And that led to the realization that I didn't have to go to work all WEEK. That project I was working on? Done. I am physically not ALLOWED to work on it anymore. And that led me to realize one very specific thing: I could READ. I could pick up a book and I could curl up on the couch, and I could read it. Any book I wanted. Just me, Mr. Darcy, and Charlie.
Since then, I have had a large amount of time to be funemployed. I have also had some good spurts of time to be regular ol' employed. And I have to say, as much as I do love being a copywriter, I am always pretty psyched for unemployment again. Let me break it down for you.
1. Pants.
Do I have to wear them? No I don't.
Do I wear them? Oh you, with your questions.
2. Sleep.
Do I get some? Yes I do.
3. Grocery shopping.
When I'm employed, I'm like the rest of society: I make a list, run in, get only the things I need, go home, realize I've forgotten three essential things, give up, and make myself a peanut butter & turkey sandwich in between two pancakes.
When I'm unemployed, going to the grocery store is an all-day event. I saunter down the aisles. I'm comparing prices, I'm picking out new brands of cheese, I'm taking the time to ponder how many flavors there are of Cheerios, I'm coming up with recipe ideas on the fly...basically, I'm an in-store marketer's dream. Why, what's this? A coupon for 5 cents off Jimmy Dean with any four dozen eggs? What a steal! Let me mosey on back to the meat section and...wait, not this meat section. It must be in another one. Hold on, why aren't the sausages with the bacon? Oh, they're over with the pre-cooked chicken. No, I was just over there. The DAIRY section? Why would they be in the dairy section? Weird.
4. The gym
Not only do I have time to go to the gym when I'm unemployed, I get to choose to go whenever the hell I want to. I don't wake up early, I don't have to plot out a spare hour or so when I can go. I just look at the clock, go "well about that time, eh mate?" pull on my Nikes and walk out the door. And do you know who else is there? No one. No one except a few other poor unemployed schmoes like myself. There are not scary muscle guys on my machines, I even get to choose which elliptical I want (near the front so I can stare out the window, but not too far front where I think people are watching me wiping my bra sweat. And when I realize that I just laughed out loud at something Wilson said to Al, it's okay. Because no one is around me to notice.
5. Charlie time
Question: Is Charlie currently spooning with me and also licking my chin for some reason?
Answer: Not anymore. He has now switched positions so that I am forced to smell his butt.
6 Joe time
This one is pretty key, of course. I figure when Joe and I move in together, I'll inherently see him more. Maybe work will even become a welcome break from seeing his mug. But for now, when I'm employed, I don't get as much face time with the man, which has therefore also equaled less back massages. Because I am dating a boy who gives back massages without asking. Yeah. He's pretty much amazing. You're jealous.
7. Me + TBS = BFFs 4 life
8. Me + internets x Adrienne = constant entertainment
9. Volunteering
I get to volunteer during the day when I am unemployed. Which is sometimes a pain in my ass, but really it's great getting to work with kids and feel like I'm helping things. Again, love copywriting, but am I really helping society in any way by convincing you to buy more shampoo?
10. Bloggery
And finally, I have all the time in the world to blog. Which is really quite nice, considering some of these posts have taken me hours to concoct. And you know what would be a great way to show your appreciation? Why, by clicking over there on the right and voting for this blog on the Blogger's Choice Awards! You can vote for as many as you want in each category--and seriously, you should also vote for 2birds1blog and Hyperbole and a Half. And read them religiously. But also vote for mine! Because, come on. I'm funnier than half those dumb blogs up there right now. Plus, all the cool kids are doing it.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Wicker Park Is For Babies.
Babies, guys. Babies.
No. I am not pregnant. JEEZ! FRICKEN BREATHE.
This weekend the sun was shining, the douchebags were in shorts, and people were frollicking outside. It was awesome. And I totally forgot...I want a baby. Not my own baby. Not a baby I need to take care of. Not one that requires that I be pregnant and get no sleep and breastfeed and all that nonsense.
I just want a quiet 1-year-old to walk around with. Possibly the baby can wear a sun hat. Maybe baby glasses. See, now that it's nice out, the babies are out in full force. Wicker Park is chock-full of first-time parents with adorable, alternative babies.
OH MY GOD. TIME OUT! I FORGOT TO TELL YOU ABOUT THE BEST BABY OUTFIT I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE SO MUCH SO THAT IT REQUIRES ALL CAPS AND INCORRECT PUNCTUATION!!>!>!K"?!1.
It was an adorable young couple with a little Asian baby on the dad's shoulders wearing the outfit from this book.
She quite literally looked like this doll:
Including the foot-tall red peak standing straight toward the sky. I have never been so close to stealing a baby. And I have come seriously close before.
Anyway, in the winter I totally forgot how many babies and dogs there are in the world. But this weekend was a giant reminder that there are quite a few. And I want them all. If it weren't an issue of cruelty and cleanliness, I would become a baby and dog hoarder. I can see myself on A&E, trying to wade through the multitude I have built up. ("Emily, have you even SEEN this dachshund in the past year? Do you think you can let it go? Come on, Emily. Let's put down the dachshund." "But, but...I might NEED it...")
Joe is aware of my latent hoarding tendencies. It hasn't scared him away yet. I've done some pretty weird things around him, so screaming "REEEEER!" every time I see a dog smaller than my fist is probably the least of his concerns. And come on. Who DOESN'T make faces at smiling babies in strollers? It's human nature. There was a baby on the bus the other day who thought I was a comedic GENIUS. And I really was, I'm not going to lie. I mean, I'd look away--and then back. I should be some kind of baby stand up comic.
For now, my plan is to get my own cat. It will be my first pet since the time I sold my turtle to pay for a doll. We'll see if I can survive owning an animal whose primary life goal is to lay in the sun and lick his own thigh. Then I'll think about other possibilities.
No. I am not pregnant. JEEZ! FRICKEN BREATHE.
This weekend the sun was shining, the douchebags were in shorts, and people were frollicking outside. It was awesome. And I totally forgot...I want a baby. Not my own baby. Not a baby I need to take care of. Not one that requires that I be pregnant and get no sleep and breastfeed and all that nonsense.
I just want a quiet 1-year-old to walk around with. Possibly the baby can wear a sun hat. Maybe baby glasses. See, now that it's nice out, the babies are out in full force. Wicker Park is chock-full of first-time parents with adorable, alternative babies.
OH MY GOD. TIME OUT! I FORGOT TO TELL YOU ABOUT THE BEST BABY OUTFIT I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE SO MUCH SO THAT IT REQUIRES ALL CAPS AND INCORRECT PUNCTUATION!!>!>!K"?!1.
It was an adorable young couple with a little Asian baby on the dad's shoulders wearing the outfit from this book.
She quite literally looked like this doll:
Including the foot-tall red peak standing straight toward the sky. I have never been so close to stealing a baby. And I have come seriously close before.
Anyway, in the winter I totally forgot how many babies and dogs there are in the world. But this weekend was a giant reminder that there are quite a few. And I want them all. If it weren't an issue of cruelty and cleanliness, I would become a baby and dog hoarder. I can see myself on A&E, trying to wade through the multitude I have built up. ("Emily, have you even SEEN this dachshund in the past year? Do you think you can let it go? Come on, Emily. Let's put down the dachshund." "But, but...I might NEED it...")
Joe is aware of my latent hoarding tendencies. It hasn't scared him away yet. I've done some pretty weird things around him, so screaming "REEEEER!" every time I see a dog smaller than my fist is probably the least of his concerns. And come on. Who DOESN'T make faces at smiling babies in strollers? It's human nature. There was a baby on the bus the other day who thought I was a comedic GENIUS. And I really was, I'm not going to lie. I mean, I'd look away--and then back. I should be some kind of baby stand up comic.
For now, my plan is to get my own cat. It will be my first pet since the time I sold my turtle to pay for a doll. We'll see if I can survive owning an animal whose primary life goal is to lay in the sun and lick his own thigh. Then I'll think about other possibilities.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
8 Things I Have To Do Today That Have Come Between Me And JTT
You guuuuyyyys...I have things to do and it's harrrrrrd....
Seriously, I've been mostly unemployed for a year and my tolerance level of doing simple, everyday tasks has slipped its way on down to empty. If my motivation had a face, it would be Bruce Vilanch.
The simple fact is: the things I need to do today are all either fun, simple, or all of the above. But the mere fact that I have to do them is just a huge inconvenience, considering what I'd LIKE to be doing: curling up with Charlie the cat, eating a bowl of mac and cheese and watching a marathon of one Mrs. Jill Taylor being exasperated-yet-forgiving in a way that gives me comfort and hope.
But instead, here is my HORRIBLY INCONVENIENT to-do list:
1. Wake up at the ass of dawn (aka 7:45 am, when the sun is nearly mid-sky.) Eat a bowl of cereal.
Ugggnnn, why meeeee?
2. Get on the el, transfer to a bus.
BOTH? At easy, safe locations? Why don't you just rip open my chest and pull out my heart?
3. Read picture books to kindergarteners on the South Side.
Hey, you know what's awesome? Eager Kindergartners named Raphael who think you are the bees knees. You know what's NOT awesome? Reading Green Eggs and FREAKING Ham three times on the day you forgot your coffee. Also, I am sorry, but "I would not, could not, with a goat" is the dirtiest sentence ever, and you should be ashamed, Dr. Seuss.
4. Travel back home.
Argghhhhh...sitting and letting other people transport you places is such a terrible endeavorrrrr.
5. Immediately rip off comfortable, baggy, 5-year-old jeans for pj pants from Aeropoastale that are so old you got them FROM AEROPOSTALE.
That one isn't so bad, but they're under this pile of clean clothes...what if I never get to them?
6. Sit in said pjs, nom a sandwich, and edit sentences so they are simple enough for a 9-year-old.
But I can't do that AND play Facebook Scrabble! This is like torturrrrre.
7. Create a hilarous flow chart about mustaches so you can raise money to help inner city kids learn to read.
Ugn, the stress of my life is making me whither away into nothingness.
8. Go to a bar where there are free drinks to hang out with nice people and Adrienne and laugh about mustaches.
More traveling? And putting on real pants again? What kind of life do I LEAD?
God, life is so difficult. But this is one cross I'm going to have to bear if I want to be a productive, helpful member of society who one day DOES have a job and works hard to keep things as such. So here I go with the work and the things and the stuff!
After this nap.
Seriously, I've been mostly unemployed for a year and my tolerance level of doing simple, everyday tasks has slipped its way on down to empty. If my motivation had a face, it would be Bruce Vilanch.
The simple fact is: the things I need to do today are all either fun, simple, or all of the above. But the mere fact that I have to do them is just a huge inconvenience, considering what I'd LIKE to be doing: curling up with Charlie the cat, eating a bowl of mac and cheese and watching a marathon of one Mrs. Jill Taylor being exasperated-yet-forgiving in a way that gives me comfort and hope.
But instead, here is my HORRIBLY INCONVENIENT to-do list:
1. Wake up at the ass of dawn (aka 7:45 am, when the sun is nearly mid-sky.) Eat a bowl of cereal.
Ugggnnn, why meeeee?
2. Get on the el, transfer to a bus.
BOTH? At easy, safe locations? Why don't you just rip open my chest and pull out my heart?
3. Read picture books to kindergarteners on the South Side.
Hey, you know what's awesome? Eager Kindergartners named Raphael who think you are the bees knees. You know what's NOT awesome? Reading Green Eggs and FREAKING Ham three times on the day you forgot your coffee. Also, I am sorry, but "I would not, could not, with a goat" is the dirtiest sentence ever, and you should be ashamed, Dr. Seuss.
4. Travel back home.
Argghhhhh...sitting and letting other people transport you places is such a terrible endeavorrrrr.
5. Immediately rip off comfortable, baggy, 5-year-old jeans for pj pants from Aeropoastale that are so old you got them FROM AEROPOSTALE.
That one isn't so bad, but they're under this pile of clean clothes...what if I never get to them?
6. Sit in said pjs, nom a sandwich, and edit sentences so they are simple enough for a 9-year-old.
But I can't do that AND play Facebook Scrabble! This is like torturrrrre.
7. Create a hilarous flow chart about mustaches so you can raise money to help inner city kids learn to read.
Ugn, the stress of my life is making me whither away into nothingness.
8. Go to a bar where there are free drinks to hang out with nice people and Adrienne and laugh about mustaches.
More traveling? And putting on real pants again? What kind of life do I LEAD?
God, life is so difficult. But this is one cross I'm going to have to bear if I want to be a productive, helpful member of society who one day DOES have a job and works hard to keep things as such. So here I go with the work and the things and the stuff!
After this nap.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)