OH MY GOD I AM THE WORST BLOGGER EVER.
I recognize that this blog has been stagnant as of late, and I promise that I plan on rectifying that soon. I have all kinds of ideas, and all kinds of CAPITAL LETTERS and unnecessary punctuation!!!!?~ that need an outlet.
But today I had an 11 hour work day. And tomorrow starts early.
Things you guys will soon hear about:
1) I got a kitty!!!!!!!!!!1 meow.
2) I have some deep-seated glass-is-half-empty issues that need to be blogged out.
3) I want to give teenagers some advice
4) My summer Happy Place, which I promised you last winter.
So, for realz, blog posts are coming. Don't give up on me. This has just been a particularly busy time at work, so my time spent at home has been rather anti-computer screens.
I have two ways to make it up to you. Both are courtesy of Adrienne, of course.
1) Selleck, Waterfall, Sandwich
2) Pinup RDJ
Monday, August 30, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
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?
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?
People I Saw On My Walk To Millenium Park
1) The second large-chested African American woman this week using her cleavage as a cell phone holster.
2) A gay couple deciding that they would visit Dollywood this year.
3) A family of Germans. The blonde sons were wearing matching Rugby shirts. On the back instead of someone's last name, it just said "COLLEGE".
4) A crazy homeless woman wearing leather pants.
I don't judge. I just observe.
2) A gay couple deciding that they would visit Dollywood this year.
3) A family of Germans. The blonde sons were wearing matching Rugby shirts. On the back instead of someone's last name, it just said "COLLEGE".
4) A crazy homeless woman wearing leather pants.
I don't judge. I just observe.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Last Thursday: A Story In Pictures
Thanks for reading, guys! I love you all. Feel free to follow on Facebook for updates and other things I say when Joe isn't around to absorb my random comments. Also feel free to pass along to others. That's how this whole internet thing works, I hear.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Coming Soon: A Story In Pictures
I had an idea for a post yesterday called DO RIGHT in which I talked about companies and politicians and how they need to DO RIGHT and not be total dickwads all the time.
It was just one of those days, you know? Where nothing huge and terrible happened, but every little thing built up until I burst into tears because I had walked a block too far from my el stop. I wanted to make a cartoon about it, as I am wont to do, but I was too emotionally distraught all evening to do it. But I'm giving it some distance, and I'll post it soon. Hopefully it will be funny in retrospect. Plus it does involve yogurt, bruises and my slow and painful demise. So yeah. Should be a good one.
In the end, the thing that calmed me down was this video. Because I'm Emily and I use 70's Gonzo to cheer me up when I'm feeling blue.
It was just one of those days, you know? Where nothing huge and terrible happened, but every little thing built up until I burst into tears because I had walked a block too far from my el stop. I wanted to make a cartoon about it, as I am wont to do, but I was too emotionally distraught all evening to do it. But I'm giving it some distance, and I'll post it soon. Hopefully it will be funny in retrospect. Plus it does involve yogurt, bruises and my slow and painful demise. So yeah. Should be a good one.
In the end, the thing that calmed me down was this video. Because I'm Emily and I use 70's Gonzo to cheer me up when I'm feeling blue.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The Job Saga: Tentative High Fives All Around
Let me preface this by telling you that I just ate some old spaghetti sauce and since Joe is gone this week, if no one hears from me for a while, I may or may not have just given myself food poisoning. Just a head's up.
So for today I give you an update on my employment status. SO MUCH FUN, I know. I know. The thing is, they love me at this internship. I am the best freakin' intern they've ever known to exist (paraphrasing.) They want to hire me. But--
*HERE'S SOMETHING NO ONE'S EVER HEARD BEFORE*
--they're on a hiring freeze. Wah wah waaaaaaahhhh. Is anyone else getting really tired of this whole economy thing? I mean, it was all fun and games a year ago, but come on now. Let's all go out and buy a pair of jeans and kick-start this puppy on up, hmm?
Anway, they DID manage to keep us (me and my partner) on for two extra weeks. And we'll see what happens after that. Gunna try all I can to keep myself there. Because, honestly, I really like it. Everyone is awesome. I'm learning a LOT. I'm selling a sh*t ton of ads. And, let's face it. If I get to be there full time...
THIS GETS TO HAPPEN
meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer
....eeeeeeeer.
...eer.
So I'm keeping my fingers crossed, bowing toward Mecca, getting in some girl time with Mary, fasting a little extra during Rosh Hashanah, shaking my fist at religious billboards (or whatever an Athiest would do to make good things happen...try?) because I'm serious about doing all that I can about this.
Sorry for another short post. I'm in the process of writing one tentatively called To The Class of 2003: A Rewrite. It might take a little while. In the meantime, won't you be my Facebook fan? then you'll know when I actually post something! And get bonus Sesame Street clips! Good times all around, and that's no jive.
OH! And I'm also enlisting Adrienne to help stop this blog from being such an eye sore, so watch for that.
So for today I give you an update on my employment status. SO MUCH FUN, I know. I know. The thing is, they love me at this internship. I am the best freakin' intern they've ever known to exist (paraphrasing.) They want to hire me. But--
*HERE'S SOMETHING NO ONE'S EVER HEARD BEFORE*
--they're on a hiring freeze. Wah wah waaaaaaahhhh. Is anyone else getting really tired of this whole economy thing? I mean, it was all fun and games a year ago, but come on now. Let's all go out and buy a pair of jeans and kick-start this puppy on up, hmm?
Anway, they DID manage to keep us (me and my partner) on for two extra weeks. And we'll see what happens after that. Gunna try all I can to keep myself there. Because, honestly, I really like it. Everyone is awesome. I'm learning a LOT. I'm selling a sh*t ton of ads. And, let's face it. If I get to be there full time...
THIS GETS TO HAPPEN
meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer
....eeeeeeeer.
...eer.
So I'm keeping my fingers crossed, bowing toward Mecca, getting in some girl time with Mary, fasting a little extra during Rosh Hashanah, shaking my fist at religious billboards (or whatever an Athiest would do to make good things happen...try?) because I'm serious about doing all that I can about this.
Sorry for another short post. I'm in the process of writing one tentatively called To The Class of 2003: A Rewrite. It might take a little while. In the meantime, won't you be my Facebook fan? then you'll know when I actually post something! And get bonus Sesame Street clips! Good times all around, and that's no jive.
OH! And I'm also enlisting Adrienne to help stop this blog from being such an eye sore, so watch for that.
Monday, August 16, 2010
The Gym Saga: Happy Endings All Around
On Saturday, Joe and I went to our "new" Bally's at 5pm, hoping to get in one more crappy work out before we finally left that crappy, crappy place forever. And guess what? It was closed.
And this was, I'm pretty sure, my exact word-for-word reaction:
So Joe and I marched on over to XSport Fitness, slapped a few dollars on the counter and demanded a shot of whiskey and a tour.
They have a climbing wall. And TVs on all their cardio. And SUNLIGHT. Because, guess what? Their gym isn't actually just a moldy dungeon cellar with a sign that says "Bally's." We were sold.
On our test run of the place, I finally got to watch tbs again (yay!) Except apparently it's now the Tyler Perry channel (boo.) So I watched The Kids Are All Right starring Tyler Perry as a man named "Terry." Yeah. Feel it. Feel that in your soul.
But the point is, I got to watch SOMETHING that wasn't The Bally's channel, with a static screen suggesting that blueberries are healthy (ARE THEY NOW?!)
While we were walking home, Joe said "The only downfall is that there are still old men in the locker room walking around naked." I told him, "Yeah, but that's not the gym's fault. That's humanity's fault." Because, really. If you can go one locker room trip without seeing some old person's bits, you have performed a miracle.
So we've got a new gym now! And it's great! And I'm excited to work out again (I mean, as much as you can be excited to work out, really.) So hopefully this means that the saga has ended. We shall see.
And this was, I'm pretty sure, my exact word-for-word reaction:
So Joe and I marched on over to XSport Fitness, slapped a few dollars on the counter and demanded a shot of whiskey and a tour.
They have a climbing wall. And TVs on all their cardio. And SUNLIGHT. Because, guess what? Their gym isn't actually just a moldy dungeon cellar with a sign that says "Bally's." We were sold.
On our test run of the place, I finally got to watch tbs again (yay!) Except apparently it's now the Tyler Perry channel (boo.) So I watched The Kids Are All Right starring Tyler Perry as a man named "Terry." Yeah. Feel it. Feel that in your soul.
But the point is, I got to watch SOMETHING that wasn't The Bally's channel, with a static screen suggesting that blueberries are healthy (ARE THEY NOW?!)
While we were walking home, Joe said "The only downfall is that there are still old men in the locker room walking around naked." I told him, "Yeah, but that's not the gym's fault. That's humanity's fault." Because, really. If you can go one locker room trip without seeing some old person's bits, you have performed a miracle.
So we've got a new gym now! And it's great! And I'm excited to work out again (I mean, as much as you can be excited to work out, really.) So hopefully this means that the saga has ended. We shall see.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Voice Overs
So...I had an idea for what to talk about and then Joe made me look at a bunch of pictures from his summer internship and now I don't know what it was.
Apparently that is how important this blog is to me; easily forgettable at the sight of a self-service espresso machine.
OH I KNOW!...Nope, nope. Lost it.
Oh okay. Here it is. So I wanted to tell you about my Voice Over experiences as of late.
So my internship is going really well, but it's winding down. Looks like I'll likely be out of there in a week and a half and back to full-time skulking/blogging as a profession. And in true form of winding-downery, everything has turned to chaos. Of course, our last week includes about twenty thousand presentations. (Or five. But, you know. Still. That's a lot.) So we've been a bit on the busy side.
Today we spend a lot of time editing an animatic, which is something between a storyboard and a commercial, so we can see how timing will play out. We went into the recording studio and met the voice over talent for our impending ad. She was very nice, drove a minivan. Her voice sounded pretty normal, although you could tell it had a lot of layers to it when she talked. But then she got in there into the sound proof booth and just blasted us away. Like, "Oh, you think you wrote words? WA-BAM. Now they actually sound important." What was interesting, too, is that she put her whole body into it. Like, big smile, hand gestures, all that.
It's true that you can tell when someone is smiling without even seeing them. After the talent left, they asked me to go into the studio to record someone sniffing in, just a quick sound effect that they needed. First time I did it there was a bit of a snot situation, which was pretty embarrassing. But then the next time I was all clear. I thought I did fine--I mean, how hard is it to sniff? But they were like "Yeah, can you smile when you sniff this time?" So I did and they were like, "Perfect."
That kinda blew my mind a little.
Actually, before the talent came in, they asked me to read the voice over, for placement and timing's sake. I went in there and just read it through, and my Creative Director clicked his mic on and said into my headphones, "Yeah, you know how the voice talent does it? All breathy and sexy? Do it more like that." Which I did. It was awkward for multiple reasons and I'll tell you why.
A) My male creative director is telling me to be sexier and it is not cause for Human Services to come in and have a discussion with him.
B) The very idea of me trying to be sexy in the first place. I will tell you what I typically do to be sexy in real life: I attempt not to make weird faces, rub makeup in my eye, show my snaggle tooth, or fall down a flight of stairs. Easier said than done, my friends. Easier said than done.
But honestly, I have been told and thought myself that I could actually be a good voice talent before. Until I heard the direct comparison between my own attempts and a professional's. I mean, really. How does she get so many sounds into one word? There were little squeaks and laughs and general feelings in wonderment. And that was just in the word "the."
The woman's good. She's good. I've got to practice. I don't think Joe will mind if I walk around all day practicing my sexy voice. "Why, hello big boy. Mind if I join you? My teeth must also be cleaned within this bathing space."
Apparently that is how important this blog is to me; easily forgettable at the sight of a self-service espresso machine.
OH I KNOW!...Nope, nope. Lost it.
Oh okay. Here it is. So I wanted to tell you about my Voice Over experiences as of late.
So my internship is going really well, but it's winding down. Looks like I'll likely be out of there in a week and a half and back to full-time skulking/blogging as a profession. And in true form of winding-downery, everything has turned to chaos. Of course, our last week includes about twenty thousand presentations. (Or five. But, you know. Still. That's a lot.) So we've been a bit on the busy side.
Today we spend a lot of time editing an animatic, which is something between a storyboard and a commercial, so we can see how timing will play out. We went into the recording studio and met the voice over talent for our impending ad. She was very nice, drove a minivan. Her voice sounded pretty normal, although you could tell it had a lot of layers to it when she talked. But then she got in there into the sound proof booth and just blasted us away. Like, "Oh, you think you wrote words? WA-BAM. Now they actually sound important." What was interesting, too, is that she put her whole body into it. Like, big smile, hand gestures, all that.
It's true that you can tell when someone is smiling without even seeing them. After the talent left, they asked me to go into the studio to record someone sniffing in, just a quick sound effect that they needed. First time I did it there was a bit of a snot situation, which was pretty embarrassing. But then the next time I was all clear. I thought I did fine--I mean, how hard is it to sniff? But they were like "Yeah, can you smile when you sniff this time?" So I did and they were like, "Perfect."
That kinda blew my mind a little.
Actually, before the talent came in, they asked me to read the voice over, for placement and timing's sake. I went in there and just read it through, and my Creative Director clicked his mic on and said into my headphones, "Yeah, you know how the voice talent does it? All breathy and sexy? Do it more like that." Which I did. It was awkward for multiple reasons and I'll tell you why.
A) My male creative director is telling me to be sexier and it is not cause for Human Services to come in and have a discussion with him.
B) The very idea of me trying to be sexy in the first place. I will tell you what I typically do to be sexy in real life: I attempt not to make weird faces, rub makeup in my eye, show my snaggle tooth, or fall down a flight of stairs. Easier said than done, my friends. Easier said than done.
But honestly, I have been told and thought myself that I could actually be a good voice talent before. Until I heard the direct comparison between my own attempts and a professional's. I mean, really. How does she get so many sounds into one word? There were little squeaks and laughs and general feelings in wonderment. And that was just in the word "the."
The woman's good. She's good. I've got to practice. I don't think Joe will mind if I walk around all day practicing my sexy voice. "Why, hello big boy. Mind if I join you? My teeth must also be cleaned within this bathing space."
Monday, August 9, 2010
Emily And A Drunk Guy: A Conversation
On Friday all the interns at our agency got treated to a Cubs game. As I strolled back to our spot with a beer and a hot dog (as God intended it), I was confronted with a group of standing Reds fans. All standing there like a bunch of standing things. So I say in my cutest, flirtiest, get-the-hell-out-of-my-way-this-hot-dog-won't-eat-itself voice,
"Excuse me, boys (they are all around 40), I've got to get through here."
And that's when it starts. Some drunk guy, taking what I'm sure was astute note of my skirt and boobs, decided to be hilariously interactive. While all his friends move out of my way, he says, "It'll cost ya!"
Oh yeah? Really? Will it? ...SEE? Even now, I CANNOT come up with a good comeback to that line! What do I say? WHAT? So of course, asking me to think of one on the fly was a total disaster. Add the immense amount of sunlight, the already-consumed beer, and the sheer number of people around me waiting for a response, you can imagine how it all went down, I'm sure. But just in case you can't, here's the play-by-play.
Drunk Guy: I'll cost ya!
Emily: Okay...well...yeah. Pffssh.
DG: So what is this? [noting my plain gray shirt] Are you a Reds fan or what?
Emily: No, I'm a Cubs fan. Kind of. I just, I had a shirt, er, a blue shirt. But I lost it! And who loses a shirt?!
DG: Maybe someone stole it.
Emily: Yeah, probably some Cincinnati...jerk!
DG: Alright...
Emily: I'M SORRY I'M BAD AT COMEBACKS NOW LET ME GO BACK TO MY SEAT WITH MY $6.50 CUP OF BUD LIGHT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
It was disastrous. Not unlike the game (zzzzzZZING!)
Anyway, that's all I have for all y'all right now. Got a bit of a work...thing...the next few days. I'd explain it but it's TOP SECRET!!!1 (not really, it's just kinda boring to explain) So I might be kinda MIA for a bit. But in the meantime, won't you become a fan of this blog? Look on over to the right-hand margin. Click the ol' thumbs up sign there and you're good to go! Ta!
"Excuse me, boys (they are all around 40), I've got to get through here."
And that's when it starts. Some drunk guy, taking what I'm sure was astute note of my skirt and boobs, decided to be hilariously interactive. While all his friends move out of my way, he says, "It'll cost ya!"
Oh yeah? Really? Will it? ...SEE? Even now, I CANNOT come up with a good comeback to that line! What do I say? WHAT? So of course, asking me to think of one on the fly was a total disaster. Add the immense amount of sunlight, the already-consumed beer, and the sheer number of people around me waiting for a response, you can imagine how it all went down, I'm sure. But just in case you can't, here's the play-by-play.
Drunk Guy: I'll cost ya!
Emily: Okay...well...yeah. Pffssh.
DG: So what is this? [noting my plain gray shirt] Are you a Reds fan or what?
Emily: No, I'm a Cubs fan. Kind of. I just, I had a shirt, er, a blue shirt. But I lost it! And who loses a shirt?!
DG: Maybe someone stole it.
Emily: Yeah, probably some Cincinnati...jerk!
DG: Alright...
Emily: I'M SORRY I'M BAD AT COMEBACKS NOW LET ME GO BACK TO MY SEAT WITH MY $6.50 CUP OF BUD LIGHT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
It was disastrous. Not unlike the game (zzzzzZZING!)
Anyway, that's all I have for all y'all right now. Got a bit of a work...thing...the next few days. I'd explain it but it's TOP SECRET!!!1 (not really, it's just kinda boring to explain) So I might be kinda MIA for a bit. But in the meantime, won't you become a fan of this blog? Look on over to the right-hand margin. Click the ol' thumbs up sign there and you're good to go! Ta!
Friday, August 6, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
They Like Me? They Really Like Me?
So I finally did it. I made this blog a Facebook fan page.
BLARRRRGGGG.
I've been avoiding this day for a while. It just felt so narcissistic--making a little homage to myself and then telling everyone to like me? I couldn't bring myself to do it. I mean, I haven't felt this desperate since the 6th grade, when I got braces and decided that all the boys were going to like me because of how mature I was sure to look.
But what I COULD bring myself to do was constantly annoy people by posting blog updates on my regular profile, where everyone who I've had a conversation with in the past 7 years can see them. Not that I mind anyone reading my blog. I just figured there are some who might be a tad over me by now.
PLUS! There are people out there reading my blog who I don't even know! *looks at you all lovingly* and I wanted you guys to have a better way to keep up with what's going on. You know, so you have up-to-date knowledge about who I'm angry at RIGHT NOW.
So we're in experiment phase. And while I did not make the page in order to beg you all to like me, PLLEEEEEASE, PLEAASSSSEEEEE like me! Don't let it just be me sitting on there, updating to myself. Go over there to the right, click on the button and I can has fans?
BLARRRRGGGG.
I've been avoiding this day for a while. It just felt so narcissistic--making a little homage to myself and then telling everyone to like me? I couldn't bring myself to do it. I mean, I haven't felt this desperate since the 6th grade, when I got braces and decided that all the boys were going to like me because of how mature I was sure to look.
But what I COULD bring myself to do was constantly annoy people by posting blog updates on my regular profile, where everyone who I've had a conversation with in the past 7 years can see them. Not that I mind anyone reading my blog. I just figured there are some who might be a tad over me by now.
PLUS! There are people out there reading my blog who I don't even know! *looks at you all lovingly* and I wanted you guys to have a better way to keep up with what's going on. You know, so you have up-to-date knowledge about who I'm angry at RIGHT NOW.
So we're in experiment phase. And while I did not make the page in order to beg you all to like me, PLLEEEEEASE, PLEAASSSSEEEEE like me! Don't let it just be me sitting on there, updating to myself. Go over there to the right, click on the button and I can has fans?
Monday, August 2, 2010
I WANT TO QUIT THE GYM
Today is Monday. And it is very much a "My Monday" kind of day, but not really in a comically-funny way this time. Yes, there was an incident in which I accidentally spilled about a pint of hot water all over the editing floor today ("What, you have to STOP the water as WELL as start it? What kind of magician do you think I AM?!") But mostly all the things that have gone wrong have had to do with insurance and appointments and pharmacies and it is sadly not the funny kind of "oh EMILY."
SO! When one of those bad-day things turned out to be that in order to quit Bally's, I have to send them a letter in the mail, there was a bit of explosion on my part.
All I'm saying is, don't get a copywriter mad and then ask them to write you a letter. You will get this:
Dear Bally’s,
I want to quit the gym.
My name is Emily.
My member number is: (*my number is here*)
My enroll date is 5/31/2010
Unless the Postal system fails me miserably, this should arrive to you in plenty of time before my next payment date. I then expect to have an extra 30 days tacked on as stated in the contract I signed, which fully ends my membership at the end of September. That sucks, but I knew about it when I signed up.
Of course, I didn’t know that my gym would be an aquarium within two months of signing, but I guess that’s what I deserve for belonging to a gym that was created in the basement of a building next to a river.
Live and learn, I suppose. I’ll be switching over to XSport Fitness. They’re on the second floor, you know.
Wish that had worked out between us, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I would say, “it’s not you, it’s me” but it was definitely you.
By the way, you should tell your employees to quit turning off the fans and televisions over 15 minutes before you close. I know when you close; I don’t need to work out in still-aired silence as a reminder. I hated that, and it is a large reason why I’m not coming back.
Sincerely No Longer Yours,
Emily
SO! When one of those bad-day things turned out to be that in order to quit Bally's, I have to send them a letter in the mail, there was a bit of explosion on my part.
All I'm saying is, don't get a copywriter mad and then ask them to write you a letter. You will get this:
Dear Bally’s,
I want to quit the gym.
My name is Emily.
My member number is: (*my number is here*)
My enroll date is 5/31/2010
Unless the Postal system fails me miserably, this should arrive to you in plenty of time before my next payment date. I then expect to have an extra 30 days tacked on as stated in the contract I signed, which fully ends my membership at the end of September. That sucks, but I knew about it when I signed up.
Of course, I didn’t know that my gym would be an aquarium within two months of signing, but I guess that’s what I deserve for belonging to a gym that was created in the basement of a building next to a river.
Live and learn, I suppose. I’ll be switching over to XSport Fitness. They’re on the second floor, you know.
Wish that had worked out between us, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I would say, “it’s not you, it’s me” but it was definitely you.
By the way, you should tell your employees to quit turning off the fans and televisions over 15 minutes before you close. I know when you close; I don’t need to work out in still-aired silence as a reminder. I hated that, and it is a large reason why I’m not coming back.
Sincerely No Longer Yours,
Emily
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