I'm A Fraud

So, I haven't checked this blog's stats for a while. I had no reason to believe anything had significantly changed around here. I've been posting moderately, people have been not commenting as per usual. Everything was all good in EJS land.

OR WAS IT?

Today I did my monthly check-in to see what's been going on in the past month. usually I see a small spike on the days I posted to my personal Facebook wall, even higher for actual good posts. Nothing too crazy. Here is what I saw today:



What the WHAT?! How? Why? How and why and where and when and for good measure whom?!

Well, I did some sleuthing. Turns out, someone pinned a picture from here to Pinterest and it went Pinterest-level viral. Piral. Problem is, it wasn't an EJS original. In fact, it was flat out stolen by me and uncredited. It was the whale picture from this post.

Should I have credited this picture? Absolutely. Why didn't I? I don't know, probably because I assumed all of 5 people would see the damn thing and they'd all be my immediate friends and family. Not an excuse, though. At all. Whoever took that picture absolutely deserves credit. But for the life of me, I can't figure out where the picture came from. I don't remember if someone sent it to me, if I found it on my own, or if it creepily swam up next to me unsuspectingly. I JUST DON'T KNOW. All I know is, I'm getting a HELL of a lot of traffic for something that I did not produce, and I have no idea how to properly credit it.

So I'm asking all of you--if you know where the picture came from, or if you're the one who sent it to me, PLEASE tell me so I can credit it to the right place. Not that I mind the extra views, but I'd rather get them for the right reasons. And I vow from now on to give credit to pictures like that. It's not fair of me to steal traffic.

I'm going to go hide my head in shame/fear of that picture now.

Pinterest, Hot Chocolate, Stitching, And A Whale For Good Measure

I have a few things to tell you, none of which have anything to do with anything else. So I'm just going to go ahead and lay them on the table.

1.) I just joined Pinterest, so naturally my life is over. Pinterest combines two of my favorite things: sharing stupid things, and categorizing stuff. When I was young, my mom set me free in a department store, and I spent my time organizing a bunch of rings by color. Over a decade later, I realized the rings were organized by size and I just ruined some poor store clerk's night.

So yeah, I like to organize. But now it's organizing pictures into "crafts I'll never do" and "food I'll never make" and "wedding stuff" because despite my rampant feminism, I'm ONE OF THOSE. Sue me--sometimes I see cool wedding stuff by accident (cough when I'm surfing wedding blogs cough) and I don't want to forget those ideas. Like this one!



Flowers made of paper?! Paper made of flowers?! COME ON!

2.) Joe and I just walked across the street and payed $2 each for hot chocolate powder in steamed milk. I just wanted to share with you how stupid it was that we just paid for something we own, and I also want to share that it's sad how much spending $2 is affecting me emotionally. That's what my life has become now.

3) I've decided on a new hobby and I am EXTREMELY interested in it, mainly because I haven't yet learned anything about it. I am still the 3rd grade kid who decides she wants to take drum lessons until she finds out you have to practice and it isn't immediately easy. This is why I am a writer by trade. It's the only thing that didn't cause much exertion on my part.

Oh my God, I didn't even tell you what the new hobby is. ATTENTION SPAN! Sorry. The new hobby is going to be cross-stitching--HEAR ME OUT!--funny things. Like stupid quotes and swear words next to adorable embroidered squirrels. Kind of like this one:


It's what makes the sauce so awesome. They will sell like HOTCAKES on Etsy. Except I assume hotcakes do not actually sell that well on Etsy since that would be a disaster, packaging-wise. But can't you imagine a cross-stitch pattern that says:

"A real man makes his own luck. -Billy Zane, Titanic" -Dwight Schrute

RIGHT?? I WOULD BUY THAT! I know I'm not the first person to do this. There is great, funny embroidery all over the internet. I'm not suggesting that I'm original, just that I want to be part of this amazingness. I mean, if millions of people can put a bird on it, then a couple of us can cross-stitch the f-bomb onto pillows and sell them on the interweb.

4) And finally, if this picture does not instill the fear of God into you, then you have no soul.



*shudder* The only reason those people are not being drowned is because that whale has CHOSEN TO SPARE THEM.

3 Reasons Why I Scared Everyone At The Super Bowl Party

When Joe and I first started dating and I met his friends, I was impressive. I'm not going to lie. I was the life of the party. I sparked conversation, I laughed at all the right places, I cracked jokes...I don't know what it was. Somehow I was not socially awkward. I thought maybe I had finally grown up and come into my own. Turns out? Nope. No, I'm exactly the same person I used to be. At the Super Bowl party with Joe's friends, I was super awkward to the extreme. Here's the breakdown.

1. Chevrolet

The commercials are going. I'm paying attention even though no one else is (As I expected would happen. The curse of being in Advertising.) People are laughing. Chatting. And then this ad comes on:



And I screamed. SCREAMED. Silence fell over the party. Everyone looked at me. I had my face covered and buried in the couch cushions. Joe whispered, "She has a phobia of whales."

You know what, Chevy? SCREW YOU. I was expecting a lot of things from this Super Bowl, including overeating, giggling at the phrase "ball control", and watching a ton of great ads without FEAR FOR MY LIFE. And you have RUINED those plans for me

2. Boy Parts

You guys know I'm not the biggest sports fan. But I'm willing to gather where ever there are people talking smack and eating bean dip. I've learned through years of training (aka forced viewings of sporting events) how to pacify my time. And that is by scrutinizing the players.

Who has the most stickers on their helmets? Who has a weird last name? What does that tattoo say? What did he just mouth to the other player?

I figure, if other people are analyzing the plays, I can analyze the players just as well, and become just as adept. And YES. I tend to call their uniforms "outfits." And YES. I know what color Gatorade they're drinking before I know what direction they're running. And YES. Sometimes I end up noticing their junk.

But come on. I mean, they're wearing the tightest lower-half clothing next to ballet dancers. Things are played in slow motion. Knees run into things. Can you REALLY blame me when, during a silent moment, I pointed at the screen and shouted, "PENIS!"


3. Ads

Like I said before, I was the only one with a vested interest in the commercials at this party. I was fine with it. It did mean that people thought I was a little bit nutty because as soon as the game stopped, I would completely zone out of any conversation, mid-sentence and stare at the screen. That wasn't really the worst of it.

I was getting food in the kitchen when the ads TOTALLY SNUCK UP ON ME, so I ran back into the living room. I'm standing there, deep in analytical thought, when the host just goes, "You ok, Emily?"
I had been staring, frozen. My brow furrowed, my lips moving, holding a pair of tongs with chicken still in them. While everyone sat, chatting happily around me. They all turned to stare. Joe whispered, "She's in advertising."



Oh well. So much for being impressive. At least Joe's friends know who they're really dealing with now.

Happy Blogaversary!

Wow, today is this blog's one year anniversary. That is CRAZAAYYY! It seems like just yesterday I was dragging my laptop to Lovely to force myself to finally make a blog, even if I had no idea what I wanted to do with it.

I tried to write a little somethin' somethin' along the lines of "here are all the things I did this year" but it just sounded so Dullsville, USA, population me. So what do I do? I turned it into another story in pictures, of course.

So here it is, a bit of the past year, as seen from EJS IS ME:

Here is essentially what the Cheese Knives debacle looked like.

In which I realized that not everyone remembers classic Bible stories in the same way.

If you haven't caught on yet, whales are the bane/joke upon my life. But the original post about them was not all fun and games.

I really did want to become a Roller Derby girl. For now, I'm going to settle on buying myself some roller skates next summer.

This is a bit of a random one, but it pretty well represents my time as a true Freelancer.

What a disaster. For the entire story in pictures, go here.


Here is a good representation of the place I sat when I first started the internship that turned into a real job. That window was like God shining his love down upon me.

My most crass title to date, but I still don't take it back.

I don't think I ever got around to explaining the 3rd disaster of our camping experience: besides the fact that it was a ghetto piece of land in podunk Michigan and the showers probably gave me smallpox, there was also a nearby group of Russians playing and yelling Hotel California--and nothing BUT Hotel California--for 24 straight hours, including those times most people reserve for sleeping. What was crazy was that when they first started, Joe and I couldn't figure out what song they were even trying to play or sing. And by the time we left, they were singing in perfect harmony and even playing the crazy bridge part.

Two days after I got a job, I got a cat with a mustache. She likes it with us.


And I really mean that. Thanks to everyone who's shown support for me or for this blog by reposting, voting, becoming a facebook fan, commenting, or even just telling me that they enjoyed what they read. It's the reason I kept going, blog-wise, and life-wise. Your support has honestly changed the way I've been doing things lately. For the better, obv.

Oh! And I didn't include SO SO many posts, like the dogs in sweaters, a bunch of Bible posts, the one about Advertising that got a gazillion hits, anything involving Muppets or my embarrassing childhood, my disdain for sports, my British teeth issue (in which I got a few angry comments from British people who apparently only understand sarcasm if it's coming out of the mouth of Ricky Gervais)...the list goes on. Feel free to go back and read as much or little as you want!

IMPORTANT DISCOVERY

As I was searching through IMDb for actresses I could reference for an ad, I came across this pretty little number.

THAT'S RIGHT. Future Husband John Krasinski (and some other people but who cares) is going to be in a movie called "Everybody Loves Whales." [EDIT: It's now called "Big Miracle". That does not change the horror I feel.]

WHALES, people.

a) WRONG. EVERYBODY DOES NOT LOVE WHALES.

b) After I found this, I typed the word "what" so many times, that the word lost all meaning and I literally had to google it to make sure I was still spelling it correctly.

I don't know how to feel or what to do. I need to think about this. Carry on. Carry on.

A Whole New Look, That's Where We'll Be. A Thrilling Chase, A Wonderous Place, For You And Me

New blog look! This one's got a little more personality in it than that bland olive did. I like it. How 'bout you?

Don't get too seriously settled on it. I might keep it forever, I might not. Most of that is dependent on whether or not I can convince Adrienne that amongst all the people who are willing to pay her in real money, that a coffee and a cwoissant from a friend who wants her CS skillz is also quite valuable in its own way. For now I am working on WHY that is...I'm going to have to ponder.

In the meantime, perhaps an angry, farting whale will convince her?

When Spiders Attack

Before we begin, may I remind you to become a fan on Facebook if you so choose, so you can get updates on my updates.

I need to ask you guys something, to find out if I am normal or not. [Insert *Oh, Emily, you’re NEVER normal! HAR!* joke here]

I understand that I am mainly alone in my irrational fear of whales.
And I understand that, while some also believed it was “making ends meat,” in the end, I was wrong.

But tell me I’m not alone on this one: Spiders while you are naked are 500 times scarier than spiders at any other time.

I alluded to this fear during a 'My Monday' comic. Yes, it’s all hilarious when I am a stick-figure. But seriously that morning I almost gave myself a heart attack. CORRECTION: That spider sneaking up on me all quiet-like and drinking my shower water almost gave me a heart attack.

I guess it’s just the whole vulnerability factor? I don’t know, I can’t quite place it. But...okay. Let me take you back in time.

In college, while I was still with Teenage Boyfriend, I decided to take a break from our Family Guy-and-campus-food marathon to shower. I’m in there, minding my own biz, when I look up and lo and behold, a spider on the ceiling. Whimpering but with shampoo in my hair and no feasible means of escape, I watch the spider, unblinking and trembling. And that’s when it happens.

The spider moves.

Not only does it move, but it moves TOWARD ME. And of course the ceiling is all moist from condensation, so the spider is walking on shaky ground. It lifts one leg and seems to dangle there for a moment. So I did what any God-and-spider-fearing person would do: I splashed water toward it. I was hoping this would send the message to the spider of, “Hey now. Back off. There is more where this came from and I am not afraid to drown you.”

APPARENTLY the message sent was, “Hey, friend! Wanna play tag? YOU'RE IT!” The spider crawled closer. And closer.

And at this point, I’m not afraid to admit it. I screamed. Yes, screamed. Because a spider had taken maybe 3 steps closer to me.

Teenage Boyfriend called through the door, “Are you okay?”

Through my tears I managed to call out, “Sss...sp...spider...”

“Are you serious?”

I turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around myself and opened the door, looking not-unlike this (minus the hook and mustache)


TB grabbed a wad of toilet paper, reached up, and got the bugger. My hero. I returned to my shower, shaking mildly from the memories.


A second story. This time, I am living on the 1st floor in Chicago. Sadly, this is before I had spider-killing foster Super Kitty. I am alone. I am alone, and on the toilet. When I stand up, what do I see on the tank behind me?

AN ENORMOUS SPIDER.

But not even a regularly enormous spider, but a spider with legs the length of a small crane. It is like the queen bee of Daddy Long Legs.

Which means:
1) That spider was like ONE inch away from me while I was half-naked and it probably saw all my bits and is making a mental note to tell all its friends about it.
2) It could have reached out and touched me *shudder, shudder*
3) Now I have an uncrushable spider, because its legs are so long, they will crunch. CRUNCH, PEOPLE. I DO NOT KILL THINGS THAT CRUNCH.

But I can’t just let this spider hang out. Something that was that close to me SHALL NOT be allowed to come near me again. And I also can’t kill it. And I can’t ask my boyfriend to squish it because at this point I was dating The Irishman and he was all living in Ireland and such. And I couldn’t make Sara do it because she was away being an actress.

So it is Emily v. Spider. What can I do? OH! I know. I can put it in some kind of receptacle and take it outside. Genius.

I run to the kitchen and grab some expendable Tupperware (because God knows I’m throwing that bowl away once this spider has touched it) and I slam it over the spider, who has now moved onto the wall. Except...crap. I forgot to get a cover for the Tupperware.

So now I am standing like this


And I have no escape. I can’t move the Tupperware, because now the spider is hip to my scheme (mraaah, see) and will quickly run and hide while I go find a top. Luckily, and mysteriously, I actually had some packing tape nearby. I don’t know what it was doing in my bathroom. I assume I was making funny faces in the mirror with it. But it was there nonetheless. So I do what any normal person would do: I tape the Tupperware to the wall and text Sara to get home because it’s an EMERGENCY.

Sara comes storming in like a bat out of hell, rushing through the apartment yelling "WHERE?! WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU NEED?!"

I whimpered in a tiny-yet-terrified voice from the bathroom, "In here!"

Sara runs over, sees the situation, rolls her eyes in a World Award-Winning eye roll, and disposes of the spider properly for me. My hero.

So this is where I stand in the World of Spiders:
-If I am clothed, the spider is terrifying.
-If I am naked, the spider will potentially kill me and my unborn children.
-If the SPIDER is clothed, it is...hilarious?

Thoughts?

Take My Organs, Please!

First of all, my life is ruined. By the British. Again.

Scientists discovered a giant, ancient carnivorous whale.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY.








Seriously.

I don’t even have more to say about it. The simple fact is, there used to be a gigantic, flesh-eating whale roaming the seas, lurking in the dark and fighting giant sharks. You guys know how I feel about whales.

SERIOUSLY.


Anyway. Now I want to talk to you all about something serious. More specifically, my organs.

Backstory: I just got my driver’s license renewed recently. Exciting stuff. Well they’ve changed the way they make Illinois licenses since I got my last one at 21. Now, instead of just asking you to sign the back of your license if you want to be an organ donor, they have a fancy little symbol by your face that says “donor.”

Well.

When I signed all the papers, they had me sign on a specific line if I want to be a donor. I did that. Then somewhere down the line, we realized I had to redo the papers for some reason. So I got back in line and when it came to signing for the organ donation, she didn’t have me sign. When I asked if I should again, she said no because they already had me in the system. I shrugged and went on my merry way.

Days later (because yes, it takes me that long to come to proper realizations pertaining to real life issues) I checked my license and realized that I DON’T have the nifty little donor symbol. I know you will all be shocked to realize that the woman who works full time behind a desk at the Drivers License Renewal Center could be wrong about something. So was I. But hell if I’m going to pay another $30 to get another new license.

But now I’m nervous that my organs won’t be properly distributed! I’ll get into some horrifying accident whereby my brain goes limp but the rest of me is alive and kickin’ and they'd be like, "well, little Timmy COULD have had a new heart today, but this girl doesn't have the appropriate markings on her Drivers License. Sorry, Timmy."

No! I refuse to let that happen. LITTLE TIMMY NEEDS A HEART, PEOPLE. And far be it from me to deny him.

The thing is, I GUESS organ donation is an optional thing. And I GUESS everyone is entitled to their opinions like they are about religion and its uncouth to discuss opinions on the matter.

But I’m sorry. I do not understand people who are against organ donation. YOU ARE DEAD. There is no more of you. Someone else has the possibility of life.

I haven’t smoked a cigarette in my life. (Seriously, mom. It’s true.) I’ve got great lungs. Awesome lungs. And if I’m not using them? Take them. Take them now. They’re all pink and sparkly and waiting for you.

So this is me, telling all of you. I am an organ donor. Print out this blog and show it to the doctor as proof.

To be honest, I’m hoping that I’ll never give any of my organs, because I want them to become just as weathered and shriveled as the rest of my old, aging body. But just in case, please take them. I will be in a better place—like haunting Cameron Diaz until she agrees to stop acting.

My 4 Favorite Dreams

Have you ever noticed that as soon as someone starts telling you their dream, you completely tune them out and start thinking about YOUR latest dream?

Don't do that yet. Because I have four awesome dreams to share with you guys.

This first one is the first dream I ever remembered. And it has stuck with me since then. OH MY GOD it explains a lot. I can't believe I didn't mention it before.

It's pretty simple: I was at the beach with my family when suddenly everyone started running out of the water and telling everyone to get back. Because--YOU GUESSED IT--there was a whale. This is how deep-seated this fear was. I don't think I was even 3 yet when this dream happened. The best part, though, is that once everyone was safely out of the water, the whale came floating out from behind some shrubbery. And it looked like this.

REE!! REE!! REE!! REE!! REE!! REE!! REE!! REE!!

That's it. That's that dream. Analyze amongst yourselves.

The second dream comes to you from when I was in Kindergarten. I had a dream that New Kids on The Block came to my house. Now, I had a HUGE crush on Jordan when I was little. But I also didn't really understand the concept of romance yet. I was five. So in my dream, NKOTB came to my house, I led them to our playroom, and we played "Guys" all afternoon. "Guys," I should explain, were these:



There you have it. In my richest, fullest dreams, I would have my celebrity heroes come over...and basically play dolls with me. I love this dream to no end and I am so glad that I've held onto it for twenty years. WORTH IT.

My third dream actually happened within the past few months, and I am actually pretty creeped out by it. I don't remember the details anymore, but the one thing I do remember was that I had traveled back in time to my house when I was only 4 or 5 (aka, NKOTB-playing-Playmobil-with-me age.) I walked into our old room. It still had the old wallpaper on it and everything. Katie and Little Me were sleeping in the room, and when I walked in, we both woke up and just calmly looked at Big Me, still sucking our thumbs and everything. I think I talked for a little bit, but I can't remember what I said anymore. And that's it.

This is the closest I have ever been to a sci-fi experience. Honestly I wish that when I woke up, I could suddenly remember having been woken up in that room by Big Me and finally understanding what that was. Damn it! Why can't fantasy things happen in real life?? Well, anyway, it still was pretty strange, pretend going back in time and pretend seeing old me.

And my final dream is this: I was being chased by a sloth. That's right. A SLOTH.


And I just remember thinking, "Wow. This is seriously the fastest sloth EVER." Which just makes me want to go back into that dream and hug Dream Me.

Those are my four favorite dreams, I think. I have had other dreams of course, and a few nightmares that will sadly never leave me...and one particularly saucy one involving Future Husband John Krasinski...but I think those four are my favorites. And now that you've been so patient and read mine, how about you? Favorite dream?

Oh, and if you don't want to share a dream, share your love! In the form of voting for me here! Have a great weekend, all!

As I Recall: Jonah And The Bile

I hope you people know what I go through for you. Because today, not only am I bringing you another Bible/Torah story, I am bringing you the story of Jonah.

AND THE WHALE.

If you remember, I have gone through some serious mental anguish in regards to googling whale pictures. And frankly, I don't think I have the wherewithal to do it again.

So for today's illustration, I've made something of my own:


That's right. It's Jonas And The Fail Whale.

Alright alright, enough stalling. On to the story!

Now if we did this as a true "As I Recall" with me just telling you the story as I remembered it, it would go like this: Once upon a time, there was a man named Jonah. He was eaten by a whale. Fin.

So once again I've gotta trust Ol' Soggy to lead me through this bad boy.

We jump right into this story with God talking to Jonah (And since they don't expand on where he comes from, I'm going to go with 123 Middle East Rd, Middle East City, Middle East.) So the Lord tells him to go to Nineveh which is referred to as both great and wicked. Make up your mind, God. Unless you mean wicked like, totally tubular?

Anyway, God wants Jonah to go to Nineveh and shake his fist wildly at it.

Jonah is not super into this idea. We don't really know the deal with Jonah, but apparently he is a huge coward. So he goes a-running off to Tarshish to try to find a place where God can't find him. Don't really know why he assumes Tarshish is a God-free zone, but the guy is dead-set on heading out there. So he finds a ship that's going there and climbs aboard.

Now you guys have read enough of these by now to figure out what happens next. If I know my Old Testament God (and I think that I do) when you cross him, SHIT. GOES. DOWN.

Not one to disappoint, God makes a crazy storm happen. Everyone on the ship is crying to their individual gods which is of course doing nothing without the exact invisible, almighty being in mind. But through all this, Jonah is sound asleep. Nothing like a mighty, death-creating storm to rock you gently in your dreams.

The captain of the ship comes down and freaks out and is all WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED AND PRAY TO YOUR GOD OUR GODS AREN'T LISTENING YELL YELL YELL.

Next, the sailors decide to cast lots to decide whose fault the storm is.

a. I'm still a little confused why anyone has to have caused this storm. At this point, I guess we're not-so-much with the science, and no one has figured out cold wind vs. hot wind yet.
b. What is a lot, you ask? And how do you cast one? Well, I asked this question, too. And the general consensus via the internet is: *shrug.* So I guess it's like rolling a die? Or flipping a coin? It's not that important. What's important is that casting lots causes them to start ganging up on Jonah.

The sailors are all "who are you? where are you from? what is your deal?" and they use the word calamity and I immediately started singing this Styx song:


So next I had a little dance party and forgot what I was doing and got up and made a sandwich and vacuumed a little and then remembered I was blogging so I got back to it.

Jonah tells the sailors that his god is the one that made the land and water and their knees start shaking and they get seriously freaked out. Not sure what their gods were supposed to have been in control of. My guess is sandals. The sailors ask Jonah what they could do to calm the storm, and he suggests that they throw him into the sea. At first the men still try to row themselves out of danger, bless their souls, but they are no match for The Wrath. So they pick Jonah up and throw him into the sea, and the storm immediately quiets down.

And here is where we pause, take a deep breath, calm....ommmm....ommmmmm...

God makes a whale eat Jonah.

Wait a second. Wait. A. Second. Hubba whhaaa? Ol' Soggy is telling me that it was not a whale. Or, well, it MAY not have been a whale. He actually calls it a "large fish." I'm sure it's one of those things where the original (Hebrew?) word could be translated to either "whale" or "large fish." Now, you may feel scandalized to realize such a fact. And you may feel scandalized if you are a big sciency nerd, because whales aren't even big fish, they are MAMMALS. But really, the man survived in the belly of an aquatic animal. Are we really going for scientific accuracy here? Let's move on.

Jonah hung out in the belly of the fish for three days and three nights. It is a gastric juices MIRACLE.

Jonah finally figures it out: there is no place where you are safe from God's Destructive Yet Apparently Loving Hand. So he sends up a prayer from the belly of the fish (why it took him 3 days to figure this out, I don't know. Maybe he spent the rest of his time fighting other swallowed sea creatures. *shudder*)

Finally, after hearing Jonah's prayer of thanksgiving, God tells the whale/fish to spit Jonah out into dry land and speaks to Jonah again with the same message: get your smelly fish ass to Nineveh and shake your fist at them.

So Jonah goes to Nineveh and tells everyone that if they don't shape up in 40 days, everyone is doomed (again with the 40. I'm telling you. I'm giving you serious Cash Cab knowledge here.) And amazingly, everyone believes him. And fasts. And puts on sackcloth. Again. What is the deal with sackcloth, honestly? Even the king hears Jonah's story, puts on a sackcloth, and sits in ashes, which is explained not at all. So...whatever?

Point is, everyone turns from their evil ways and God rethinks his plan of calamity.



The End.

Dammit, Jim! I'm a Copywriter. Not a Marketer.

I am very lucky to have two parents who always encouraged me in whatever job I wanted to do. Likewise, my parents are lucky to have four children who all want steady jobs and not the ability to program their guitar into an XBox controller.

So in high school, I decided I wanted to become a copywriter (aka, the person who writes the words for an ad.) When I told people this, they nodded their heads and said "Okay, okay...cool. Cool." and then slowly backed away. Which means either a) They don't know what a copywriter is but figure it sounds like something they SHOULD know and don't want to be caught in a web of lies or b) They DO know what a copywriter is and want nothing to do with the kind of people who write things like "It's CRUMBelievable!"

Cut to now. I have been searching for steady employment for what is becoming a nail-biting number of months. Turns out, all those times my professors warned me that companies think advertising is a waste of money and will cut it first during a recession? Those were times I should have been listening and not doodling pictures of bears. Who knew?!

So now all those people who cared enough to ask what I do (but not really enough to stick around and hear my theories on why Hefty could be doing SO MUCH BETTER) are trying to give me suggestions. And that suggestion tends to revolve around the idea of "Why don't you look for something in advertising besides copywriting?"

Let's take a time out. I need to ask you something. Are you a doctor? If yes, I have a question about ear infections; let's hang out in the comments. But if you are NOT a doctor, why not? My personal reasons are such:

1. Blood
2. Science

But that doesn't mean that I don't respect doctors. I'm damn glad that there are people in the world who DO want to be doctors, although I want nothing to do with the profession myself.

Okay, time in. That is how I feel about any form of Advertising job BESIDES being a Creative. I am SO SO SO glad there are people in the world who want to be Account Planners and Brand Managers and all those other lovely things. Those people are the reason why I, as a copywriter, get to write things. But HELL NO I do not want to do your job. NO.

The way I see it, here's what Creatives do:
- Come into work in jeans
- Sit in front of a Mac
- Peruse the Creative Brief for inspiration
- Furrow their brows until something awesome comes out
- Laugh at the funny things they write and draw
- Play with crayons
- Act superior to everyone in the office (Hey, I didn't say we're all good.)

And here's what I assume anyone else in Advertising does:
- Come into work in stylish but uncomfortable shoes
- Sit in front of a PC
- Write emails that say "verbiage" and "plus it up"
- Attend meetings where the Powerpoint has no pictures
- Stare out the window while a silent tear rolls down their cheek (I would.)
- Act appalled at anyone who thinks POS means "Piece Of Shit."

And that is just not my cup of tea. I didn't go into Advertising because I wanted to be an advertiser. I went into Advertising because I want to be a copywriter. I want to write things that make people laugh or cry or think. And I want that reaction to then make them go and buy the product I was writing for. I want to help people's business, yes, but not by sucking up or taking phone calls or playing my office politics right. I want to help people's business because I'm a good writer who can get a reaction out of people with just my words. And if I can't do THAT, I'd rather....hmm...more lists are in order, I think.


Things I'd rather be than be a Businessy Advertising Lady:

- Minimum wage kindergarten teacher
- Hooters waitress
- One-armed barista
- Receptionist again at the place where the old man rubbed my shoulders
- Perform off off Broadway on my one woman show, "The Cheese And I: It's Complicated. Or, Why I'm Not on ANTM"

And just for good measure, here are the things I would NOT do:

- Work at "Schubway" for 1 more second and smell like it for the rest of the day
- Cleaning bar bathrooms at 4am.
- Anything from Fear Factor, especially eating live spiders
- Ew ew ew ew...still thinking about the spiders
- Swim with a whale (because some things are just TOO SCARY)

Hopefully that clears things up. When people suggest I become something besides a copywriter, to me that's like suggesting that a marine biologist become a fisherman. It's not that fishermen are bad per se. I just had slightly more romantic plans than casting out nets for tuna.

Friend Week: The Amazing Adrienne

Second day of Friend Week, y'all! Get excited!

Today I'd like to explain to you the phenomenon that is my friendship with Adrienne. It's not really a phenomenon, I just thought that sounded catchy. But it is pretty fun. And here is why:

Adrienne and I both have some time on our hands, what with being unemployed/rarely employed/underemployed/whatever the hell it is we do that means we spend most of our lives emailing each other ridiculous links. No subject, no explanation. Just the link.

For example:
___________________________
FROM: Adrienne
TO: Emily
SUBJECT: (no subject)

YES.
___________________________


Passions We Share:
- cat things
- cupcakes
- really, all baked goods
- making fun of my fear of whales (Once, she sent me a postcard from Canada with a picture of a whale on one side and on the other it just said, "WHALE IN UR FACE <3 adrienne")
- things that are cute but random and therefore awesome
- in that vein, anthropomorphism.
- Pretty much every television show on prime time, especially Lost (ARE YOU GUYS PUMPED OR ARE YOU PUMPED?!)

OBLIGATORY LOST PICTURE



Anyway, back to Adrienne. Adrienne and I met in high school, and bonded our Junior year over the premiere of Harry Potter 1 and a shared love for Oliver Wood and the boy in our grade who looked like him *coughWescough*. We spent most of English class sharing snacks and drawing in coloring books. We split in college (though stayed friends) and both moved back north after graduation.

Adrienne is great. She is one of my best friends (and certainly my best Chicago Friend). She's funny, she's fun, she's creative, and she is willing to consort with me when I think someone is out to get me. If you would like to hire her as a photographer/graphic designer, I will hook that up. Also if you are a quirky slightly hipster male who needs someone to watch Ace of Cakes with...I can hook that up, too.

Also she is big into capitalizing phrases when necessary (read: NOT NECESSARY.) She also lives in the city, which makes her doubly awesome because I get to see her all the time. Which means you get to hear about her all the time.

To get a firm grip on who Adrienne is, for my birthday, (without my knowing it) Adrienne sent my resume in to a cupcake store that needed a marketer, complete with a funny, endearing cover letter about why they should hire her friend. The woman responded that it was the most awesome recommendation letter she'd ever read.

For Adrienne's birthday, I got her a bedazzled hotdog necklace.

FIN.

Grammy Thoughts I Can't Keep to Myself

I jumped up and grabbed my 3D glasses for THAT? Also, I know what I said about Killer Whales not being scary, but seriously I need some warning before you just throw one of those into my living room.

Mos Def and Jay Z are both adorable. They should rap about how I want to pat them on the head.

Quentin Tarantino...stop that.

Is anyone else as ecstatic as I am that Eminem is back? Between him and Britney, it's like I just traveled back in time to Freshman year in high school, and I am in no way upset about that. As long as I, in turn, do not have to start wearing butterfly clips again.

Here's my shpeel about TSwift: I love her. I have no knowledge about what makes a song technically good. I mean, she's catchy, and I of course appreciate that. But what I love is that there is a female singer that is making songs that young girls can actually relate to. Because I don't care if white middle class tweens ACTUALLY have real problems. The fact is, the girl who sat across from me at lunch committed suicide when she was 13. So it doesn't matter what you SHOULD feel when you're young. It matters how you do feel. And Taylor Swift gives girls a healthy, angsty outlet. And I love her for that.

[Edit after watching some YouTube the next day] Hearing Elton John sing "How wonderful life is, with Lady Gaga in the world" might have been the gayest moment of my life. Amazing.

Say What You Whale, Cetaphobia is Real.

I'm sure you are dyyying to know. I gave you the little teaser, but with no true explanation. You're baffled. You're suspicious. You're hurt.

Who the hell is scares of whales?

I am, my friends. I am. I have self-diagnosed cetaphobia, or the fear of whales. Let me make something clear: a phobia is not the same as a normal "fear." I'm also afraid of large spiders, sharks, and car accidents. So are you. That's because those things are scary.

Phobias are marked by their irrationality. There are people with phobias of clouds. Of butterflies. Of the color yellow.

Of whales.

There isn't a legitimate reason that I can give you for my fear. You fall from high places, snakes bite you, you suffocate in tight spaces. These are obvious fears that make sense. I understand that you may never fathom my phobia.

Let me get something straight: I'm not in a constant state of panic about whales. I'm not currently afraid a whale will eat me. And I'm not worried a whale will walk into my living room and shoot me. But seeing whales (realistic ones, not cute ones) on tv or in movies nearly always gives me a heart attack. I never suspect it-- they're so damn sneaky!!

Why whales are scary:
The only good reason I can give is their size. Whales are enormous and in my head, they're even bigger. I also get slightly nervous about submarines, but it's not the same. I guess just the fact that whales are massive AND have thoughts is a little nerve wracking. I mean, if a submarine went past you, it's not like it's the sub's fault. But that whale swimming beside you knows you're there and--HOW DO YOU NOT GET SICK THINKING ABOUT A WHALE SWIMMING NEXT TO YOU?! ROBOTS!!

I have a clarification at this point: because my phobia centers around size, I am not afraid of Beluga whales (Hello?! Baby Beluga in the deep blue sea?! What is scary about that?) and I am also not afraid of Killer Whales which, yes. The irony. Ha ha...ha...ha. But Killer Whales are whales in the same way that tomatoes are fruit. You can classify them all you want but are you about to mix them up with cantelopes and strawberries? *shudder*...okay I might have a new phobia now.

I hope you all appreciate how scary this next part is for me. This is up there with Google image searching "large spider" or "herpes"...you know whatever you get is going to be the worst thing ever. But here are the most terrifying whales, in order:

1) Pinocchio.

My theory is that this movie spawned my fear. Specifically, the part where Pinocchio swims past the whale and he opens his eye. HOLY JESUS SAVE ME. You are as big as that whale's eye. AN EYE. AN EYE THAT FOLLOWS YOU. AND IS ANGRY.

2) Finding Nemo.

When Dory starts speaking whale and slowly...slooooowly the whale comes out of the murky shadows toward you. Are you SERIOUS. I was clutching the arms of the movie seat like I was preparing for electric shock therapy. I probably should have had one of those bars to bite down on, too.

3) The Lightning Whale from Prince of Egypt. As already stated here, this whale comes with two terrifying factors: The element of surprise via the lightning and also the element of size comparison via the people walking past it.

4) Fantasia 2000

I have yet to watch this movie, but i remember the ads. Ohhhh do I remember the ads. Whales. Flying. That's all I need to say.

AND THIS COMMERCIAL. This thing ALWAYS sneaks up on me. Last time it was on, I was in a sports bar, where there were enormous screens on every wall. Imagine if "It" was on every wall of a restaurant. This is my situation.

I'm willing to laugh about my fear. I know people find it weird (although I cannot admit in honesty that I think it is. IT'S NOT WEIRD, THEY ARE SCARY.) But I joke about it anyway. Today I bought Adrienne a heart-shaped box of chocolates that says "Whale you be my valentine?" with an adorable whale with big googly eyes. See? I can laugh! I can joke! I can cry quietly when I get home.

EDIT: As I was writing this, Andrea, who is sitting next to me, showed me this video. Congratulations, you now have cetaphobia, too.

As I Recall: Moses Lets His People Go...Past a Whale.

Ahh, home sweet home. Today I returned from a stint dog-sitting for three dogs. Three of them. Let me explain to you something: in the math world, three is one more than two. In the dog world, three is actually about twenty million more than two. It's a complicated world, the dog world.

But now I am home, and my roommate's cat, Charlie, is back to lovingly appreciating my warm lap.


My trek from a foreign land where I was held captive by an evil ruler (Hildy, the jumping beagle) to my home, where God gives me manna from heaven (Charlie gives me arm-hair licks) has reminded me of another story. That of Moses.



I include this picture from Prince of Egypt, because, while I have heard the story many times, let's be honest. As soon as something is turned into a movie, that's how things look in my brain. Example: What does Hagrid look like? ...I rest my case.

And I apologize, for I have never seen the DeMille/Heston version which is a travesty and I shall add it to my Netflix. Right after Fern Gully and Memoirs of a Geisha.

But, in case you haven't seen the story (or would just like me and my admittedly terrible memory to recount it,) here you are.

So last we last checked in on the Bible, We had Noah, his family, and two of everything else. Except that raven that never flew back. He left a widow bird. And that's why today we don't have ravens. Wait...

Cut to roughly 80 gajillion years later. Noah's descendants have grown into God's Chosen People, the Hebrews. And somehow they have gotten themselves into a bit of a pickle. They are now slaves of the Egyptians. WHOOPS! Oh, God, the hijinks you get into time and again. You should write a book.

So okay. Slaves. That sucks. But the things is, these aren't no Woody Allens being whipped and forced to make papyrus. These are some broad-shouldered Jews. And the Egyptians are scared. Or maybe the Pharaoh caught wind of the whole Chosen People thing...I'm not sure. Maybe both. Important thing here is that Pharaoh gets his headdress in a twist about it and, in order to keep them from an uprising, demands every Hebrew baby boy is murdered. Because as we all know, the way into your slave's hearts and keeping them calm is by killing their little newborn miracles.

So in order to save Moses from assured death, his mother submits him to mere probable death by putting him in a basket and letting him careen down the river. As luck would have it, baby Moses floats on over to the Pharaoh's domain, and is adopted by the fine fine people who brought you such ideas as "Hey I know, let's kill all the Hebrew babies!"

Cut to years later. Moses is a grown royal prince and there's a new Pharaoh in town. One who is still not real keen on this whole pack-of-strong-Hebrews thing, and insists they remain as slaves.

So Moses is walking around by himself, probably petting a cat, trying not to get sand in his eyes, when WHOOSH!! The bush next to him catches on fire. This is the middle of the desert so spontaneous combustion isn't uncommon, I imagine. But then--get this--the bush starts talking. THIS, Moses will notice. So once he wipes himself, he realizes that this is God talking to him. And God is telling him that Moses needs to lead all the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt to their Chosen Land. Err, Promised Land. Whatever. To the land that God has been promising them since...um...since somewhere between Noah and Moses, I guess. Moses, like everyone in every Bible story, basically tells the bush that what God wants sounds hard as hell and he'd really rather not. God says, "Too bad! No takesies backsies!" and goes back to Heaven.

So Moses hikes back to the Castle/Pyramid/wherever it is Pharaohs live and lets the guy know that he's going to go ahead and take all his slaves away, lol winking smiley face. No, no. What he says is, "LET MY PEOPLE GOOOOOO!" All overdramatic and with true conviction, so that the Pharaoh will concede. The Pharaoh isn't super pumped about this and tells Moses exactly where he can take the slaves (which I won't repeat here.) So Moses is like, "Alright man. You asked for it. Prepare for some freaky stuff to start happening."

AND OH, DOES IT.

Upon the people of Egypt comes a whole bunch of plagues. In no particular order (because, of course, I can't remember the order) we have:
- Frogs raining from the sky (cutest rain ever?)
- A bunch of locusts (and if you live in Chicago you know those cicadas are NOT AWESOME)
- And I think flies or some kind of bug. Those last two probably ruined the crops, and probably also made for some very lethargic rain frogs.
- Then he turned the river into blood,
- And killed all the livestock (But really, there's no water and no plants. Were the cows going to survive much longer anyway? Really?) and...
- Okay and then there were definitely a few more plagues but I don't remember them. So key part here is: Hell Hath No Fury Like A Yahweh Scorned.

The important thing is the FINAL plague. God tells the Hebrews to kill a lamb (which I guess were not part of the dead livestock thing) and spread the blood over their doors. That way, when he sends the Holy Spirit through the town that night, he'll know by the blood that the house belongs to one of his People. Because nothing screams "JEWS LIVE HERE" like a splash of lamb's blood. So the Hebrews do this, but the Egyptians do not. And that night God goes through the town and kills the first-born son of each household without the blood. SERIOUSLY the Bible is really into killing baby boys.

This final act is what convinces the Pharaoh to let Moses lead the Hebrews out of Egypt. The slaves pack up all their stuff quickly. This whole ordeal is what Passover is all about: "Passover" because God passed over the Hebrews houses. And they eat matzoh because the Hebrews didn't have time to let the bread rise. Okay...my Jewish tradition knowledge gets a bit hazy from here but let me just say: matzoh + horseradish + apple butter = hhhhawesome. So yay for Moses and yay for the slaves. The end.

SIKE!!! Jaaaaaay kaaaaay. While the throngs are exodizing, the Pharaoh has a change of heart and decides to go after them. CRAP! Run, millions of people! RUN!! So they're running and the Egyptians are close behind and there are chariots involved and it's all very exciting until they get to the Red Sea. BAH! WHAT NOW? So Moses finds a rickety hanging bridge and they all get across until the last person and then the bridge falls off and the one guy just barely makes it!

SIKE AGAIN!!!! You guys are seriously gullible. No, Moses takes his staff (if you are going to lead a multitude, you will need a staff. FYI.) and he raises it in the air and he says the magic words and he plunges it into the river and God makes the river part, and the people walk across.

And here is where we must pause. Because here marks an important moment in Emily's life. It is the moment when she came to terms with a great and mighty fear. A fear which clutches her entire being. A fear which she will explain in another post. The fear...of whales.

AVERT YOUR EYES, ALL WHO HAVE A SOUL!


This is another picture from The Prince of Egypt, where the people are walking past the wall of parted water, and the lightning illuminates the water. And a whale swims by. Apparently this is an awe-inspiring image to some. To me, it is bone-chillingly terrifying. If I was a slave walking by when that happened, I would be like, "Welp! That's about as much as I need to see. If anyone needs me, I will be back there, learning hieroglyphics." When I saw this moment in the movie, I think it was the first time I realized how scared I am of whales. It's been downhill since there. I will explain more later, promise.

So, amazingly, none of the Hebrews turns back around. They just keep on walking past the lightning beast. And when they all get out, the Egyptians are hot on their tail and still in the sea bed. So what does God do? Well, as a caring, loving God who appreciates all creatures great and small, he releases the parted sea and drowns every Egyptian in sight. HOORAY! *Our Godddddd is an awesome God, he reeeeeeigns from Heaven above with wiiiiiisdom power and LOVE, our God is an awesome Goddddd.*

So Moses and His People are free! Free to roam that is. Which they do. For a seriously long time. I think 40 years. Probably more? I don't really know why they can't just get over to where they've been promised. Clearly large bodies of water aren't an issue. But they roam, and I guess God gives them manna which is some kind of food. But it's pretty bland, considering he made it from rocks.

Oh, and some time during the Roaming, Moses goes up on a mountain and comes back with 10 Commandments from God. Thou shalt not kill, that kind of thing. And when Moses comes back down, he sees that people have built a golden calf and are now worshiping that instead of God. And Moses screams, "What the HELL people?! Do you realize how hard it was for me and God to get you here!?!? KILL THEM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL!!!"

And that (all of it) is why Moses is my homeboy.


Thanks for reading guys. Thanks for the encouragement. Thanks for existing, frankly. May I put in a little request for you--leave a comment here on the blog! It's easy! It's fun! And if you leave your first name, I'll know who wrote it! Exclamation points!