You Miss Your Old Familiar Friends

You guys all appreciate stories about my ever-approaching demise, right? Yes? Good? On we go.

All my dreams have come true: our stuff arrives tomorrow. "But, Emily! I thought you said you'd get 2 days notice before your stuff arrived!"

...
.....
.........
............
.................DIDN'T I?!

Well, in true "all moving companies are a bunch of assholes and there's nothing you can do about it" fashion, my driver called to inform me that I had less than 24 hours to get my affairs in order, and that he would be needing a shuttle truck (an additional $350 minimum charge) since he was sure he wouldn't be able to drive his 18-wheeler through the streets of San Francisco.

................WOULDN'T YOU?!

I started calling around to all the official city numbers I could muster. I was assured that the man could drive his truck down the necessary roads. I called him back to tell him this. He told me to call the moving company because he's done it before and gotten ticketed. FINE. I called the company. Are you grasping the number of phone calls I made today yet?

Once I assured the manager that I had all the maps and the phone numbers the driver needed to ensure a good route, he started giving stuff like "well aren't there a lot of hills?" and "you're really close to the ocean" (Side note: WHAT now?!) and "he needs a place to park" and SOOOOO many excuses, it makes me wonder if these semi trucks ever get to their destinations. Like, unless you actually live ON the highway--like, ON IT--how does a 70' truck EVER deliver your stuff to your home? How? I have no idea. None.

I called 311 about bagging a few meters so the man and his beloved truck could park. They told me I needed over 24 hours notice. "YES," I told them. "That would have been LOVELY, wouldn't it?" The officer told me that what I COULD do was just get a bunch of friends to park in the metered spots until the truck came, and then have them move. I wanted to sob to the woman, "But I HAVEN'T any friends anymore!" (When you get really overdramatic, you have to talk like Amy March from Little Women, by the way.) "I've deserted them in their wintry time of need!" I'll tell you, if absence makes the heart grow fonder, my lady friends have become superheroes in my mind. They'll do anything for me now that we're apart. Adrienne would have parked there all night for me! Laura would have parked sideways and DARED anyone to complain about it. Michelle probably would have just laid across the parking spots! And Jane would...well, she would have come with hummus to keep everyone's cars company at the very least!

Oh my god, I just had a genius idea for a comic book and it may or may not involve my friends deflecting lasers with their chest plates.

So no, Officer. I do not have anyone to help me with my ketchup/catsup problem.

All of these issues, plus a few calls made by Joe and between me and Joe in which I sobbed more or less uncontrollably into the phone, took all freakin' day. With little conclusion. We will likely be paying an amount of money (in cash) the likes of which I always thought I would pay someone someday, just while adjusting my monocle and top hat.

Oh but wait. Cash. Right. And how I need to have that by tomorrow. Hmm, that's interesting. And how my bank isn't in California. Yes yes, I see the issue now.

Well I've been needing to switch my money to a bank out here. And considering all the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad banks out there, I thought I'd do the hippie thing and join a Credit Union. I'm still unsure of exactly how Credit Unions function. But all I know is: they aren't mean banks that do mean things with your money. Okay, cool. I'll take a hundred. A hundred Credit Unions.

After all this dealing with people who are hell-bent on taking every penny they can squeeze from me, I headed over to switch my account and take out some money.

To understand my emotions upon entering the building, please watch the following:



There were actually a couple people applying to open new accounts at the same time, so a man took all of us and explained the basis of what a Credit Union is and how it works and where to find ATMs and all this.

He was...the most wonderful, adorable 30-something gay man I have ever met. He was just so freakin' cheerful. And I say again, not fake cheerful in order to get something. He was legitimately happy. Like he hadn't just spent the last 6 hours on the phone, fretting about how to park a semi on a six-lane residential street. He took out his own debit card to show us how he'd customized it with a picture of his dog. And he said things like "Let's be frank. My name's actually Carl but...sorry, stupid joke." And when he told us there was a $5 fee to sign up, he actually APOLOGIZED about it. It took every ouce of will power in my loins not to jump wholly, trustingly, into his arms, Dance Of Joy style.

Later, I went one-on-one with another guy to actually open an account. Still untrusting about hidden fees, I ripped open a fun-size M&Ms bag on his desk and started popping them like House pops Vicodin, only with slightly less scruff and to a calmer effect. Yes, I am a stress eater. I don't need your judgement, I only need your chocolate. But the guy assured me that there were no hidden fees. He also assured me that he couldn't give me the cash I needed to pay my movers. And he sent me on my way. I took an extra bag of chocolate Vicodin for the road.

So ONCE AGAIN, here I am, stuck without a bank and with maximum withdrawal limits. I'm going to try with a real bank tomorrow, and Joe can take out a bit, too. So it's not the end of the world, but it was just one of those icing on the cake moments you really love.

It was one of those days that, despite the calming affects of the Credit Union, when I got home and saw a note by the elevator that our new washer/dryers now only use h.e. soap, I threw myself face-first against the wall and pounded on it, screaming, "WHY, GOD, WHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!" I wish it was a day ending with an ANTM potluck or a wine and cheese gathering or an Office marathon. It would have been nice to end the day laying on the floor with you guys around me, swearing to the high heavens about my woes and telling me how correct (and how pretty) I am.

And finally, I leave you with The Oatmeal, who put my day's emotional spiral into perfect words.

See you guys on the other side of Stuff-Having and Money-Haven'ting.

Movin' On Out

Well I started inklings of it here. And then I really got into it here.

But when Joe and I were in Seattle, we shook on it. It's official: I'm moving to San Francisco in November.

Question: Gasp! Do you have a job out there yet?
Answer: Welll...no I do not. But Advertising is a very in-the-moment, we-need-you-yesterday kind of business, so this doesn't worry me. EDIT: Joe's contract job isn't full-time yet either. We just decided that even if he doesn't get it, we'd both have to look for a job somewhere, so we might as well make it San Fran.

Question: Do you have a place out there yet?
Answer. No we do not. Joe doesn't have much spare time to devote to checking out places, but once we get our credit reports and checkbooks ready, he is going to go apartment searching by himself to try and find us a place that is not a) falling apart and b) a hundred million dollars. Apparently this is a difficult task.

Question: Have you bought your plane ticket yet?
Answer. No I have not. OKAY SO I KNOW THERE ARE A LOT OF "NO I HAVEN'T DONE THE RESPONSIBLE PARTS OF MOVING" YET CAN YOU PLEASE GET OFF MY BACK MOVING IS HARD I'M DOING MY BEST TO KEEP IT TOGETHER NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID I'VE STOPPED USING PUNCTUATION AND I FORGET WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT....wait, what? Oh, okay so no I haven't bought the plane ticket yet. Gotta do that, but I probably should know when we're moving in before I do. And flying with Regina Phalange means a few extra tasks so it's going to be really fun and complicated and annoying.

Question: Did he like it so he should have put a ring on it?
Answer: Well, well, well. The question I knew you were REALLY wondering all along. Only took you four tries before you got the heart of it. He does like it, he has not put a ring on it yet. We're getting there, don't worry. My personal opinion? I'd like to feel a little more grounded before we start throwing rings around willy-nilly. You know, slightly less like a giant helium balloon flying high above the parade of life. (PS in this metaphor it's best to think of me as a giant Kermit flying above your faces. Really drives the point home. But I digress.)

Question: But! But! What about...And then there's....You can't just...!!
Answer: I know. I know! When I started to think about moving away, my core group of friends was starting to break off and do their own thing. And it felt like the move would be really easy. And then Laura finally moved back into the city and my niece learned my name and I moved next to the lake and my little sister became legal drinking age and I have a friend who could use me close by--I KNOW!

Question: SO?! THEN?! HMM?!?!
Answer: Well the thing is, I've never memorized a zip code that didn't start with a 6. But this isn't one of those "I've gotta get out of this dump" situations, because Chicago is awesome. I'll even say that in January and mean it. I just need to experience somewhere outside the prairie. And it's not one of those "I've gotta get away from these people" situations because these are my family and my friends and the people I love more than anything. Ever. These are the people who loved me when I had glasses the size of my face. These are the people who hugged me until I stopped crying after I broke up with my boyfriend of 4 years. These are the people who ACTUALLY think I could be a successful Muppeteer if I went out and did it. It's not at all about leaving. It's about arriving. I need to do this terrifying thing because if I don't, I'll always wonder if I could. I'm also going to try (possibly for the last time) to see if I really can be a good copywriter in a city that seems to have better options for me. And besides all this, I get to have an adventure with Joe that's as close as I'm willing to come to "Man, Woman, Wild".

Question: Pff...kcchhh....ccckk...
Answer: I know. But it's happening. It has to. I have to. I don't know how long I'll be there. Maybe I'll hate it and I'll be back in a year. Maybe I'll love it and stay forever! I don't know! Somehow I think it'll be somewhere between those two. A warning: you might be hard pressed to rip me away from a city that's a quick drive to 80 degrees and wine. Just keep reminding me about deep dish pizza. I'm sure I'll come around.

Twin Bruises: Like Twin Peaks...In No Way Whatsoever.

Okay. I can do this. I can write you a blog post that is worth everyone's time, and it will not devolve into me declaring the demise of Advertising, either by the cold hand of modern technology or of my own.

*Deep breath...aaaaaand...*

So guess what guys??? I have two enormous bruises on my right hip. Things that I blame:

1. Booze
As Glee so deliciously put it last week, I mainly blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol, baby. In that episode, they seemed to have a hard time coming up with a danger of alcohol as long as you have a DD. I am here to tell you (but I cannot SHOW you, as these bruises are in a precarious position and I'm a lady) that alcohol definitely has dangers, even when a car is no where in sight. Let me expound on this by telling you what else I blame:

2. Tommy Wiseau
A week or so ago, we went to see 'The Room'. For those who don't know, The Room is a newish cult-classic. And when I say "classic" I mean that it will burn itself into your brain so you will never fully be able to scrub it out of your memory, no matter how hard you try.

Yes. The Room is considered one of the worst movies of all time. Made in the same year as "From Justin To Kelly" and "Gigli", those movies become "Casablanca" and "Citizen Cane" in comparison. The Room was written, starred, directed, produced, and distributed by one man: Mr. Tommy Wiseau, who defied all people who said the movie was bad (and by that I mean: all people said the movie was bad) and used his own mystery money to get the whole thing produced.

Here is one classic scene. You guys are going to love it.

Yeah. YEAH. Do you feel that? That's the tingling of love.

So all this to say, they have showings of the movie, similar to Rocky Horror, where people dress up, bring props, throw things, and yell at the screen. And people may or may not COUGHsneakCOUGH COUGHalcoholCOUGH into the theater. Well, after the movie was over, we were walking slowly out of the theater. And I've decided there is nothing worse than trying to intentionally walk slowly while tipsy. Might as well have put me on a freaking balance beam. Aaaaand I slipped. Onto the side of a theater seat.

MORE THINGS I BLAME:

3. Joe
Were we walking next to each other? YES.
Is Joe a big strong man with a beard more powerful than Thor and He-Man combined? YES.
Did Joe manage to catch me? NO.
Game set match. Point, Emily. Gave over. End of game.

4. My Inability To Stand Like A Normal Person


5. Sand
Last weekend, I went to Tom's (Laura's boyfriend...'s) lake house. Where we proceeded to drink COUGHalcoholCOUGH COUGHlegally and safelyCOUGH but which left me slightly off-balance once again. And it was a lake house, so of course there was still sand in some places. Have you ever sprinkled sand on bathroom tile and then tried to walk across it? Well I HAVE. Slip number 2. Same side. Nearly the same place.



I kid you not, I look like I got into a fight with a baseball and LOST. I have two enormous bruises, side by side. BFFs. Just hanging out like it's no big thang. I think this is a new low, clumsiness-wise, even for me. It is, and I am not joking about this, one of my largest arguments against my ability to own children right now. That, and the fact that I refer to them as something I might 'own.'

Sigh. I'm going to go ice these bad boys down.

Oh, A Post About Sarcasm. That's REAL Creative.

Laura and I used to joke (in a "no but really" kind of way) that we loved nothing better than making a group of people laugh. We'd come home from class and shrug off our coats, beaming from the class we just had.

Example Conversation:
"How was class?"
"Oh my God it was AMAAAAZING. I tripped walking in, I failed the test, had no idea what the professor was saying the entire time, and on the way out I made a joke about Fergie being not-so-licious and like SEVEN people turned and laughed!"
"Ugh, you are so luckyyyyyy!"

We will also admit, point blank, that we often like people based solely on the fact that they think we're funny. "Oh, she's great. I love her. She thinks I'm hilarious." "Say no more."

Not that you have to laugh at every thing I say in order to be my friend. In fact, the always-laughers can get a bit annoying. All I said is that I want soup! There is nothing funny about that!! Unless it's Monkey Ninja Zombie Pirate soup, you should not be laughing!

And I'm not trying to be like, "Oh, I'm SOOOO funny, everyone loves me SOOOOOO much, this blog is SOOOOOOOO perfectly humorous." I'm just saying, sometimes I make jokes. And sometimes they're funny. And I enjoy when people laugh at said jokes.

So it will come as no surprise to you that people who think Laura or I are markedly NOT funny make us...uncomfortable. My freshman year of college, there was a girl in our group who, for some reason, never heard anything I said. I would make a joke, people would laugh, and she would turn and say, "What?" I would repeat it and she'd just say, "Oh." Even when I said regular things, for some reason she always acted like she didn't hear me. I swear, if the two of us were in a vacuum (shut shut up work with me here) and I was enunciating every word perfectly, and she became some kind of magic lip reader, as soon as I would finish speaking, the girl would probably say, "What?" It infuriated me. She was my first adult nemesis.

Since this girl, I have met a number of people who haven't found my brand of humor particularly alluring. Obviously this is not MY fault. Either they have been raised incorrectly, or they must not get it. There is no possible way that there are people out there who just don't like me. Right? RIGHT?!?!

Anyway, I don't know if you guys know this, but I'm SLIGHTLY sarcastic. And there are some people who just can't grasp it. Like, I'll make a joke that I think is just painfully obviously a joke, and they look at me like I'm from outer space. Which makes me have to do the "Just kidding!" paired with the arm touch. Which, for me, is the sarcastic person's equivalent of "JK LULZ!!!!!!~~~!<3<3<3<3<3 ;-) ROFL :-* LYLAS KIT!!!!"

And it is EQUALLY as painful.



I'm not even one of those dry British humor types who can pull off something that COULD be serious with a straight face. Mine is exaggerated and with a smile. Something you should EASILY understand.

EXAMPLE OF DRY HUMOR I DON'T DO:
(To be said in a Ricky Gervais accent, it helps drive the point home) "Oh, I wouldn't go over there, there's a dead cat over there." *straight face, straight face, straight face* "I'm only joking."

EXAMPLE OF HUMOR I DO DO (tee hee):
"Let's just forget about work and become squirrel mimes!" *smiles, eye roll*

See the difference? But lately I'm starting to think I've accidentally crossed over to the serious, straight-faced humor. Because there are some people who, no matter what I say and how I say it, are NEVER aware that I'm telling a joke. And they look at me like I'm crazy. EVERY. TIME. I'm trying to find it in my soul to still like these people. To go on with the show. To turn the other cheek. You know, like Jesus would do. But I'm finding it harder and harder to feel comfortable in my own skin. As I see it, I can either think of a hilarious joke but then let it just stew inside me like The Bog Of Eternal Stench, or saying the funny thing, watching the "Huh??" reaction, and risk it being the straw that breaks the camel's back and me exploding in a "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IT WAS A JOKE! IT WAS A JOKE! WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOUUUUU?"

So I try to tread lightly. Pick my battles. Say only the jokes that are SURE to be funny. Problem is, you never really know what's going to get a good laugh until you say it. So for now, I'm trapped in humor limbo. Possibly forever. JK LULZ!!!!!!~~~!<3<3<3<3<3 ;-) ROFL :-* LYLAS KIT!!!!

YES, IN FACT, I AM IN.

I just heard on the news, although apparently some have known for weeks, that Cash Cab is coming to Chicago! Holy baby Jesus in the manger, IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!

For those who are unaware, I am an ENORMOUS Cash Cab fan. After I found out, I practically SKIPPED all the way to work (while ever on the lookout, of course.)

Now, apparently it's not Ben Bailey driving around, probably partly because he is too high and mighty on his New York horse to come over to LOWLY (but might I add diverse and rich in its culture) Chicago, and also partly because he's probably going the way of BJ Novak when he was on Punk'd and became so recognizable, he could no longer be on the show. Oh, you didn't know you were going to be getting TV trivia during this blog post? Well welcome to the world of Emily, people. I've got a million of 'em. Catch up.

All I have to say is: New York, you aren't all that and a bag of potato chips. We can be cool, too. Remember Ferris Bueller's Day Off? Remember While You Were Sleeping? Remember...uh, uh...Real World: Chicago?? YEAH. I WENT THERE. So swallow your pride and turn on the TV to something that DOESN'T happen four blocks from your tiny, expensive apartment. Because we (AKA my dad, Laura, and Laura's dad--my Cash Cab Dream Team. Don't act like you don't have one) are about to win some serious MOOLA.

3 Reasons Why Follow That Bird Scared Me and 3 Reasons Why It Was Awesome

I'd like everyone to come in a little bit closer today. Gather, gather. Sit up front. We're all a happy family. For we all have one common thread.

And that thread is: all of us--you, me, that guy over there--were emotionally scarred by the both terrifying and terrific epic film, the 1984 classic, Follow That Bird.

A refresher:


There were three things that made this movie terrifying:

1. My friend and confidant, Big Bird, is on the run. By himself. With no parents to lead him, and Stranger Danger at every corner.

Big Bird is supposed to only be 6 years old, by the by. What if that was me?? What if I had to start a life with a new family and they were terrible so I had to run away all by myself! It happened to Big Bird, it could happen to ME!

2. When Big Bird is blue.

Big Bird. My friend. My confidant. He is in a cage, and he is SO SAD, that he has TURNED A DIFFERENT COLOR. I didn't even know that was possible, but if Sesame Street says it is, THEN IT IS.

3. Do I have to say it? DO I EVEN HAVE TO SAY IT.

Miss.....Finch. If a scarier Muppet exists in the world, I have yet to see it.


Nope. Not as scary.


Not even close.


Nice try.


Nuh-uh.


Still no.


Close, but not them either.


AHHHHHHHHH! RUN AWAY!!!!!!

Miss Finch was perhaps the first villain I ever encountered in my young life. And I have been scarred to my soul. First, she rips Big Bird (friend, confidant) out of the warm embraces of Maria and Luis, then she plunks him down among a horrible, vapid family, and then when he tries to escape, she and her dark, soul-sucking eyelids chase him across the country! It's not enough that he is a child on the run, but he must be a HUNTED child on the run.

And I know I'm not the only one who has felt this way. Anyone young enough to have encountered this movie as a small child was petrified of this woman.

There are two things that are great about this movie, however. Scratch that, three things. The first is Canadian actor Dave Thomas. The second is the music. Specifically "Easy Goin'", the feel-good song of the bird, the children, and their farm.



Question: Did you and Laura figure out the harmony to that song and teach it to your friends so you could belt it out while walking through the nighttime streets of Champaign-Urbana, Illinois?

Answer: DID. WE. EVER.

Question: ...Wait, why were you singing this song in college?

Answer: Because I bought the movie for Laura's 22nd birthday, and (the third and final thing that is great about this movie) we made up a drinking game to coincide with it while we watched.

Question: Oh PLEASE tell me you still have the rules.

Answer: .....

Question: Emily?

Answer: ....

Question: You got distracted looking at the drinking game rules for Cash Cab online, didn't you?

Answer: Hmm? Huh? What? Oh, right! Follow That Bird drinking game. YES! Of course I have the rules. They are simple, and they are awesome. Here we go:

1. Drink every time they say "bird."
2. Everyone pick an extraneous and beloved Sesame Street character to follow throughout the movie, such as Grover or Cookie Monster. Whenever that Muppet is in a scene, you drink.

We may have had other rules, such as "drink every time you are so scared of Miss Finch that you can neither look away nor blink," but for the life of me, I can't recall any other rules being necessary.

So yes, perhaps I have been able to overcome such fears as becoming separated from my family and being forced to walk home. Now I can focus on the important things, like togetherness of friends and drinking alcohol while watching beloved childhood movies. I'd like to think I've become a real grownup.

On a separate note, does anyone want to create a Mary Poppins drinking game with me?

10 Reasons You Never Considered Why Cats Are Awesome

With the looming promise of getting my very own cat (I'm waiting until I feel financially stable again. Kitty's gotta get fed, son.) I've been thinking about what attracts me to those frisky felines.

Now, as I stated here when discussing the idea of going to Greece in order to experience CATS EVERYWHERE, I'm pro-fuzzy things. I like cats AND dogs. And chimps and chipmunks. Not so much horses, because they are mildly terrifying...but that's another story for another day.

What I'm saying is, I am not trying to convince anyone that cats are BETTER than dogs. I'm just saying, y'all have to learn to appreciate.

We've all heard the they're cleaner and easier to take care of mumbo jumbo. You know that. You can see that by looking at them. But if you've never taken the time to really get to know a cat, you wouldn't see those little things. And those, my friends make all the difference.

1) Their Meows sound like questions. Questions you can answer.
"Meow?" "I don't know. What do YOU think Mel Gibson will say next?"
"Meow?" "We might. Check the refrigerator."
"Meow?" "HOW DARE YOU, SIR. You know I'm sensitive about that."

2) There is nothing funny about a person sitting in the middle of an empty room. There is EVERYTHING funny about a cat sitting in the middle of an empty room.



3) They are cuddle-factories.
I think some people are anti-cat because they've really only experienced the kind of cat that just sits in a corner and hisses. Those cats are lame. But I can tell you right now, Monica's cat, Charlie is renowned for breaking down those stereotypes. He is like Martin Luther Kitty. And when you find yourself in the middle of a snugglefest with the likes of him, you might find it a lot harder to fight against their power.



4) Pest Control.
A few years ago, Sara and I fostered two cats for a summer. We had a good amount of bugs just from living on the first floor. One day, there was a TERRIFYING spider in my bathroom. The foster cat took one look at it and *WHOMP!* One paw came down on that son of a b.

Conversely, my family's dog, Sugar, once befriended an entire army of ants.

5) You know the phrase, "You always want what you can't have"? Well, cats know it, too.
They know how to keep you wanting more by being aloof. And that's a good thing. I mean, have you ever thought that someone was really attractive and mysterious, and then when you actually talked to them, you found out that they weren't actually a cultured Italian man, but another stupid Chicagoan with a nasally accent and all that time you spend oggling him at the train station was totally wasted?

No? Just me then?

Okay well you know what I mean. Sometimes a little mystery and distance is a good thing. Sometimes your cat doesn't want to hang out with you. And you know what? Sometimes your best friend doesn't want to hang out with you, either. But at least your cat has the decency to be honest and hang out in the dining room.

6) The adorable noise they make when they drink their water.

lick lick...
lick lick lick lick....
lick lick lick lick lick lick lick.....

[Editor's note: #7 and 8 comes from Laura]
7) I will never accidentally send an email again.
As many of us know, cats enjoy computers. They especially enjoy computers/laptops when you are using them. I have come very close to sending some very weird emails to people with 900 Ws and 70 backslashes. So I started waiting to put the recipients name in until after I've typed and edited the email. I also do this at work even though I'm pretty sure my cat has never been there. Either way, I consider it a good thing. My cat was just protecting me from embarrassing myself.

8) They remind you to pick up after yourself.
I'll admit it. I don't enjoy cleaning. And I also have ADD. So often when I do clean or try to organize something I get about halfway through and then wander over to something else. Recent example: I recently realized that I'm an adult. And being an adult means you have important documents. So one afternoon I sat down to organize all those documents. When I was done, I straightened them into a nice pile, and left the pile in the middle of the living room floor because I decided that was the exact moment I needed to go take a nap. (Organizing is hard.) When I returned to the living room I was faced with the following scene. So now I know not to leave anything in the middle of the floor unless I want it messed with. She was just being helpful.




9) Being licked by their tongues is like receiving a free sand exfoliating mask.

Seriously, my arm hair has never been smoother.

10) They keep you on your toes by stalking you wherever you go.
And when you look back, they freeze as if by staying still you won't notice them. Like perhaps we have the brain and eye capacity of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. And it's never not hilarious to watch.



SECRET REASON #11! is this.


Special thanks to Laura, Adrienne, and Hannah for their contributions to the list.
Comments welcome! Any other reasons why cats shall not be overlooked?

Apparently I'm Bad At This

Guys. I had a dream that I overheard Laura talking to someone about how my blog has sucked this summer.

a) Rude.
b) It's true. Or at least it has DEFINITELY been true this week. I've been a busy busy bee. My downtime has included about two hours every day tops. One of those has been for working out and/or eating food, and the other one has been for watching season 3 of the Office on DVD.

PRIORITIES.

But I swear, I will write more things to you. Including that picture one I promised you, and some more about my double weekend camping extravaganzaaaaaaaa

So tune in next week, when I swear I will tell you things. Sewiously.

UPDATE: Wait wait wait. I just remembered I also had a dream that this guy I had a crush on in college emailed me and told me that he read my whole blog and fell in love with me because of it. MAN. I really need to post more often.

Three Things:

1. I'm getting my hair cut at 1pm this afternoon. I have given you all plenty of warning of this impending chop, and it's finally happening. For. Reals. No tears! (I'm looking at you, Michelle.)

2. I start an internship next week! This means a few things: "My Monday" comic strips will likely return, I'll have money, and I may even get a cat. OH THE SHENANIGANS.

3. We start moving tomorrow. All my stuff! My precious, precious STUFF! It'll be back in my grubby little paws where it belongs. My couch, and my couch pillows, and my couch sores from laying on the couch too long...it'll all be back!

4. BONUS NUMBER I haven't talked to Laura in a million years and I miss her. I know this is not pertinent to any of you (unless your name rhymes with Shmora) but maybe if I write it in blog form, I will finally pick up my deteriorating phone to call her.

The Poor White Albino Cookatoo.

I have all kinds of work to be doing right now, but instead I am blogging. That is how dedicated I am to all of you. All...ten or so of you.

So since I have so much to do, I'm going to leave you with a funny story from my phone conversation with Laura.

First, she informs me that her Valentine's Day was "interesting." And I'm thinking, oh, no. Someone called. Someone showed up at her door. Someone sent her a Valentine and it's her morbidly obese, mouth-breathing boss (who I just made up.)

She takes a breath and tells me, "...I was pooped on."

Three things:
1) Phew.
2) HAR!
3) Wait...what?

Apparently she was at an "aquarium" in Dallas (and by "aquarium," obviously this means an enclosed building for all animals, including a jaguar. In the North, we call that a zoo. Moving on.) While in some sort of open space area with animals, Laura was pooped on by a bird flying overhead. Bird poop for Laura is now a biannual occurrence.

Luckily, Laura is an old woman who keeps used tissues in her purse, and managed to get the poop off. The best part of this story, to me, is just how Liberal Laura is. Because to a Republican (or anyone else, probably,) I believe the proper response is, "I am going to kill that damn bird."

Not Laura.

Laura says to me, "I'm going to have to find what organization supports that bird and then NOT DONATE TO IT."

So this prompts me to imagine this poor, diminutive person knocking on her door, sniveling, "Hello Miss, I'm from the Department of Zoological Bird Conservation. I was wondering if you'd like to donate a few dollars to support the white albino cookatoo bird?" and Laura just yells, "Oh HELL NAW! F--K THAT BIRD!" and slams the door in the poor person's face.

I expressed this image to Laura, and she of course found it more funny that I used the phrase "white albino" and also perhaps the fact that the "cookatoo" is most certainly not a real bird.

Anyway, it was conversation for the ages, and I just had to share it with you.

Friend Week: The Entertaining Erin

Last day of Friend Week, and I've got facial tics about it!

This whole ordeal was supposed to be much simpler than it turned out to be. Because now I am realizing that I haven't told you about many of my other friends (for example, the ones that I actually see on a regular basis.) So I'm just going to have to do mini friend bios when they come up. You already know that Maggie can get into some fisticuffs. And you know that Carla is preggo and thought I was Jewish for an entire year. And if you want to know more about all the lovely people I surround myself with, well, I suppose you'll just have to keep reading about my shenanigans.

Because now it's time to put on a Russian Spy coat, hold my hand, and get funky. IT'S ERIN DAY!!


Here is Erin in my old apartment, cooking breakfast in an Erin kind of way: red suede heels, vintage coat, wine glass. That's Erin for you: an anomaly that can't really be explained in only a few paragraphs. But I'll try.

Erin and I met through Laura our freshman year of college. We didn't really become besties, though, until Senior year, when we became gym buddies. We kicked some serious gym ass, I'm telling you. Or rather, Erin seriously kicked my gym ass. She is great at tricking you into doing five more crunches. Damn you, Erin. And God bless you.

Erin (and Laura) also introduced me to the world of red wine. It was a scary road to travel at first, but somehow I came through it. It was an easening, filled also with brie and manchego and girl talk that somehow became much more personal, 2 bottles in.

Erin has style, and so much so that I will never be able to keep up with her. Classy brands I've never heard of roll off her tongue like butter. Erin is the girl who, on her visit this summer, brought 4 dresses for two nights of celebration. And one of those nights she wore a bridesmaid dress. But, you know. Options. But the great part about Erin is that she isn't some exclusive, snobby, heiress-type. She has more important things to do: like be an intelligent, professional woman who will cook you enchiladas, call someone a douchebag, and then dance the night away in 4-inch heels.

I'm not sure that there is any way to truly describe Erin. So instead, I will give you my list of Erin Quotes from the past year, which I keep lovingly in my phone:

(After a gust of wind nearly blew a vendor cart onto us) "That was like, falafel in yo' face!!"

"Weddings are meant to be hookups." (Said to a future bride and groom)

"I have a lot of clothes. It's an issue. But all I want are babies and a career." (Erin does not remember saying this, and insists that those are not ACTUALLY the two things she wants. We'll see.)

"So my uncle couldn't find a good burger and he was like, 'Fuck it,' and bought an organic farm."

(Pouring beer) "Carmen! Tip your glass like a lady."

"I always think balls are like the scales of justice. 'Yes or no? Let's ask your balls.'" (I don't even know about this one.)


I doubt that cleared the air at all. But suffice it to say, Erin makes me laugh. And she makes me feel classier and smarter and more confident, just by being near her. She always has fun ideas up her sleeve, and she is one heck of a hostess.

It is very sad that she lives in New York City and therefore far from me. But we have new plans to move to San Fransisco some day. And perhaps then we will again drink wine, eat cheese, and make ball jokes until the wee hours of the morning.

Friend Week: The Lovely Laura

This weekend I started working on tagging my posts, so that you guys can read every post that mentions whales at your leisure. Which obviously you want to do.

While doing this, I started putting in tags for the friends I've mentioned, and realized you've had no explanation of who these people are or why you should care. So I'm introducing Friend Week! First on the roster is best friend Laura.


(rough sketch)

Laura and I met Freshman year of college, due to one of many series of events that have led to us being the same person. Laura and I were both idiots when it came to choosing our dorms, and ended up in the furthest, ruddiest, lamest, hottest dorms at the University. We bonded over our mutual loud sarcasm in dealing with this hardship. We also bonded over singing while filling our cafeteria trays, an unexplained phenomenon.

Other things that Laura and I have in common:
- We began college with long-distance, long-term boyfriends who were our soulmates to the extreme.
- We ended college like two Flirty McFlirts who knew their way around Flirtville.
- When I introduced her to spaghetti & ranch, Laura took it to an entire level I never knew existed.
- We tend to make noises at the sight of animals. Cats get a high-pitched, "MEER!!" and dogs get a similar, "REER!" It is a force within us which cannot be contained.
- Youtube videos of kittens are our downfall.
- Throughout our histories, we tend to choose celebrity crushes on those who are usually labeled, "the funny one," or "the weird one."
- We both judge others based on how well they receive our jokes. No laughter: Lame. Appropriate laughter: Let's be besties. Too much laughter: What's wrong with you? I just asked you for copy paper.
- Our goal in life is to make an entire group of people laugh.
- We are the only two people in the world who "get" John Krasinski. It's science.

Okay, seriously, that list could go on forever. This will be easier:

Things that make Laura and I different:
- Laura is a pickier eater than I am, but likes sushi.
- Laura has class.
- Laura is an only child (though almost all of my BFFs through history are only children. This is probably because they demand attention and the one thing middle children excel at is letting others have the spotlight.)
- Laura can put on her professional hat. I can accidentally make fun of people interviewing me, resulting in not getting that job.
- Sometimes Laura gets more angry than I do. But then I trip up the stairs and it evens out.


I am very sad to announce that Laura now lives far away from me. But it does mean that we have some pretty great random texts. A sampling:


Emily: New plan: you and I practice a two part karaoke song. We go alone to a karaoke bar, blow them away and walk out without a word. "who the hell was THAT?!"

Laura: I just said y'all for the first time.
Emily: Gasp!! Baby's first y'all!

Laura: Okay, I'm awesome. Stanley Tucci does the AT&T commercials.
Emily: I tell strangers about my friend with the creepy ability to pick out voices from commercials.
Laura: And they say "Such a person cannot exist!" and you say "oh but she DOES"

Emily: I've made my decision: choosing one male actor from old times that I would want to be with. Dick Van Dyke
Laura: What???? No. ....Danny Kaye.

Laura: You know how Pikachu gave kids seizures and stuff? That's what Cameron Diaz does to me. I'm twitching.

Emily: Just passed a woman whose shirt said I hate haters, and in the middle it said "no hating" with a line through it. Hollerrrr

Laura: There is a woman sitting next to who I assume is her husband. And she is reading a book called: Building an affair-proof marriage."

Emily: Goal for the new year: to be one step closer to us being the Golden Girls.
Laura: Yessssssss! I'm Dorothy. You are Rose. Go.

Laura has great potential as a co- or guest-blogger. But I have two trepidations about this:
1. That this blog starts looking like the poor mans 2birds1blog. Which I am in love with, but would like to be different from.
2. That Laura will be infinitely funnier and wiser than me and you won't want me to post anymore.
I think I will have to take these chances and ask her to give you all a piece of her mind. Because, oh, could she.

9 Golden Globe Thoughts For Adrienne, Laura, Michelle, and You.

1) Aunt. Meryl.

2) Thank God for Glee and Modern Family. Can we all agree: 30 Rock is great, now let's stop giving them awards.

3) Can I just have a life-sized poster of Reese Witherspoon in that blue dress?


When she showed up on stage, I think I looked at her the same way I look at these brownies. (May I just say, it took me eighty thousand hours to find that picture. Why? Was the dress not froofy enough?)

4) Hello, Mariah Carey's boobs. Haven't seen you in a few minutes. Glad you're doing well.

5) Kate Winslet? You are...I can't...I want to...*pets Kate Winslet*

6) Amy Adams is pregnant? This is the kind of news I feel I should have known, but apparently I haven't been reading the covers of magazines in line at the grocery store for the past few months.

7) Ricky Gervais. Let's have a marriage. Let's have a marriage license.

8) YIKES. James Cameron's wife. The years have not treated her nicely since she was the old lady's granddaughter in Titanic.

9) You can take the Fergie out of the meth lab but you can't take the meth lab out of the Fergie.

Sports Show Idea

I have an ingenious idea for a television show. COPYRIGHTED!! (When you scream "copyrighted!", that means it's copyrighted, right?)

I want to make a sports show--HEAR ME OUT!!--for the non sports fan. For the person who is forced to watch sports with others, like their boyfriend, dad, wife, whomever. I have been one such victim. And it is a sad, lonely road to walk down, my friends.

Here's the premise: We start a radio show that airs at the same time as The Big Game. The radio show consists of me and my college friends, Laura and Kathy (who I am aware you don't know, but you will grow to love). And we comment. I will say idiotic things, Laura will make innuendos and funny retorts, and Kathy will explain things to us when we don't know what's going on. For example:

Emily: Okay...there's a bunch of dudes getting ready to start hiking the ball. I believe they'll be throwing it over to the left there.
Laura: Whoah--those white pants show a little much, am I right? Aaaand they seemed to have hiked the ball to the guy with the dreadlocks sticking out of his helmet, which I personally find distracting.
Emily: I believe he is the tight end.
Everyone: ((giggles.))
Kathy: That's absolutely tight--I mean right, Emily, and he's taking that football all the way to the ten! What a fine, tight end that man is.

And that sort of thing. And anyone who is forced to watch a sports game can tune into our show, maybe listen on headphones, and giggle along with us while their sports fans yell and scream and get angry about things they can't control.

I haven't figured out how we'd be able to comment on every game ever, but...details, details.

WHO'S WITH ME?!