what if...

i was actually keeping a food journal. you know what it would have listed today?

2 coors lights and a bag of $0.99 cheetos.

mmm, health nut up in here.

vicky, cristina, emma, kaitlyn barcelona??

before i dive into my most recent adventure, i need to get this off my chest. okay, bra's off. now where was i? HA HA. but, seriously. my pick for song of the day is "i remember" by yeasayer, and i'll tell you why. this lyric right here:

i remember making out on an airplane
still afraid of flyin', but with you i'd die today

all right, emo-emma. back in your box you go.

now onto the point of this post: my wednesday night.

my friend and i decided to hit the town and ended up at a hole-in-the-wall bar i'd never been to before. fun! i thought. a new scene! we walked in and the place was dead. i mean really, really dead. we were a tad sketched out, but decided to stick it out and see what we could make of it. luckily, the bartender was on coke, so he was extra-friendly and served us $2.75 drinks all night (yay for yay!). he also informed us that about an hour earlier, he had decided to host a local hip-hop show on his stage, so needless to say, we were pumped.

my friend needed a fag, so we ventured outdoors to sit on a bench and chit chat. a mysterious man was out there sort of lurking in the shadows, smoking a ciggy, so she decided to chat him up (because that's how she is). he had a thick accent, so we asked where he was from to which he replied, "madrid," but it sounded like "lakjf." he asked if he could join us and so he did...

this man was a legitimate spaniard. i mean, really strong accent, looks, swagger, everything. he had been in dallas since he was 18 because he wanted to go to school in the states. his dad went to harvard, but when he saw all the "incredibly attractive" women in dallas, he was sold. when he said this, he was staring at both of us in our eyes so intently, i started to become incredibly jittery. those men have a way of looking at you that makes you feel like, suddenly, you are sitting there completely naked without your consent. things were fine, but when he started talking about how anal he is about cleaning and making his bed every single morning and taking 3 showers a day, i couldn't help but think "killer." what?! you've seen those types of movies/shows, too. don't deny it.

anyway, we chatted with mr. madrid for a little while and decided to move inside to hear the music. the bartender was not kidding - local hip-hop show, yes. dangerously close to dallas version of "8 mile" even. the guys spitting were actually really good (i know, right? "spitting." i know what's up). i was taken aback by how good they sounded.

the moral of the story is, there is none. it was just a random night. we talked to a spaniard, listened to eminem wannabes show their stuff, smelled a lot of weed outside in the back, had 2 boys accost me about working for television and ask the stupidest questions known to man ("so, like, i guess it would make sense if a show was really popular, you'd probably charge more for it, right?") and then we left only to realize once we were in the car we hadn't paid for any of our drinks. not our fault - the bartender said not to worry and he'd just keep a running tab. that's what you get for being a coke-snorting, generous, happy bartender!

to adventures! and free drinks.

-emma out

water, water everywhere. no, seriously.

i am uninspired this week, and i know why. because i need to stop drinking copious amounts of casual alcohol. i honestly think that it's worse than it ever was in college and that's saying something because SHOOOOOOOOOT - I WAS A CRAZY GIRL BACK THEN (huh uh).

drinkin lots o' water
i'm mah daddy's daughter
who's your baby's father?
water makes me smarter...

that had a very specific rhythm and melody and i feel bad for you if you didn't catch onto it.

top quotes of the weekend

i took the time to write them down, so i might as well make them public.

1) "my favorite is to get a starbucks and walk on the katy trail like i'm a power bitch, but really... i'm a secretary."

2) "can we go to taste of addison yet? because it's gonna be like tastes... of boys."

3) "i'm a strategic facebooker."

and the top scenario of the weekend was as follows:
at a bar friday night, standing at the counter ordering a drink with a guy friend. i turn around and this short, pudgy blonde dude is pretending to shoot my back with finger guns. "what are you doing?" i ask. "shooting you," he so wittily retorts. "but why?" "i'm trying to shoot the knot in the back of your outfit in hopes it will come untied."

for the first time in a very long time, i was speechless. it was so ridicuously stupid that i couldn't even think of something surly to say back to him, so i just turned around. now, today, i feel like george costanza coming up with what i should've said days after the fact. please feel free to leave comments as to how you think i should've reacted. my mom said:

"you should've starting shooting at his zipper saying, 'i'm just trying to get your penis to flop out!'"
or
"that's the WORST fucking pick-up line i ever heard and you're an idiot."

if life were a movie, what i would've loved to do is just untie it and scream, "HERE! HERE YA GO. HAPPY?" alas, this is real life, and i just took my vodka pressed and moved along.

snap judgement

is it just me or was april and andy's kiss last night on parks and rec not good? i mean, it was well past my bed time and i may or may not have been under the influence and i also may or may not have rewound and watched it 3 times to analyze it, but it didn't seem great. obviously, my love of all loves (chris pratt) went into it looking really promising and like he would've and could've delivered beyond normal expectations. but, april messed that shit up what with her stiffness and all. oh well. that's why he should date ME.

a bloody good tale

it's "get healthy texas" day here at the station, and man, have i turned my life around in a matter of hours. not only am i sporting my sneaks, running pants and a sports bra (with no shirt), but i also ate a delicious station-served breakfast of warm, chunky yogurt and had my finger pricked in our conference room to test my choles and glouc levels (i'm healthy as a teenager, by the way. no, really. that's what the nurse said in reference to my numbers that showed up. to which i replied, "good thing! because i also LOOK like a teenager, so that works well).

anyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyhoo - the finger pricking and spewing fountation of blood stirred up a dark memory that i have suppressed for years, but i have chosen to share it with you because they say the best way to get over something is to talk it out. so let's talk.

in high school, i was broken up with. it sucked... a lot. what sucked more is that said breaker-upper began dating a new girl just shy of a month after taking a dump on my heart. so, obviously, i hated her guts. anyway, months passed, and they decided to hold a blood drive at our school. i had never given blood before but i decided, whatthehey! i went into it with a positive attitude, ready to give back.

well, little i did know, the new girlfriend was running the f*cking thing. i saw her and immediately felt my blood pressure raise. "no, emma. no. just calm down and ignore her." so i did. i sat in my chair waiting to be called by the nurse to get my blood pressure tested. then... she started talking to me. the b*tch came over and started carrying on a conversation with ME. WHAT?!

"hey emma! are you nervous?"
"no. but i do have something i'd like to say."
"what's that?"
"i.... want.... you to know..... that i'm.... hap...py... for you..."

no, i didn't really start singing alanis, but G-d, i wanted to.

here's the bottom line. she completely messed me up by talking to me and i got so unhinged that when the nurse finally called my name, she took my blood pressure and said, "your heart is beating so fast right now that if you were to give blood, you'd pass out. i'm so sorry, sweetheart. not today."

so there's my memory. i try and give back, and get cock-blocked by what's-her-douche.

oh well. at least i got to leave for the day.

bloody good mate,
emma

...so i says to her, i says

it's always fun when you catch the tale end of a conversation. sometimes, it doesn't deliver like you think it might. however, there are some snippets you catch that are real gems.

like tonight. i heard one of the greatest tale-enders i've ever been blessed to hear:

"so, anyway, i don't want the lemonade."

amazing.

mission completely incomplete

well, i guess my last post didn't really work. although it hurts me that you won't make our love public, i can't make you do something you don't want to do. so i'll let it go... for a bit. it'll resurface though, as all problems do.

as a sidenote, this is my 50th post.

50?!

50 POSTS?!

someone should've thrown my blog a birthday party. hell, i'll do it. i'm going to dress my blog up in garb complete with a tiara and go out on the town right now. that's right. we're gonna celebrate the right kind of way and make an impression on this town. a PERMANENT IMPRESSION.

get your dollar bills ready, boys. it's party time.

no, just kidding. i'll stay here with my wine.
cya.

what fixes a scratchy throat?

lozenges? salt water gargling? juice?

i'll let you in on a little secret: i struggle because a part of me wants my voice to be scratchy forever and the other part of me is like, "OW BITCH. THIS HURTS."

on that note, i have something to say. i like numbers. i like to see results. so, if you read me everyday and have yet to click the "follow" button, please do. don't be ashamed of our love. it's natural, and if you really love me, you should want to shout it to the world and let everyone know. and i know what you're thinking, "what if i make the decision to do this and we end up falling apart or things don't work out?"

listen here, you bleeding heart, you... i promise, as a sanction of our blog/reader love, that one day i will make it legal for a person to marry a blog. until then, be proud of who you are - a lover of an inanimate object.

my deepest affections,
emma

sound effects through text

man, there are some really awesome words you can text to create disgusted sound effects through text.

here are some examples:
"cuh"
"bluh"
"goo"
"ehhh"
"ugh"
"eee"

"cuh" is probably my favorite one right now and here's the real kicker... I HAVE YET TO TEXT IT TO ANYONE! WHAT WHAT!!! CLICK HERE TO BE THE FIRST (not).

seriously, try 'em out. i'll allow it. and if your friend texts back with a "???" response, they were never your friend to begin with.

more men to marry

from left: 1 and 3.

as for the other 2, i'd take you as my back-ups if all else failed.

http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/04/this_is_hilarious_guys_acting.html?f=most-commented-vulture-7d5

genius, obviously. they're from harvard.

it pays off to be friends with someone cool

that's what i tell people when they try and break off our friendship. some listen, some don't. and the ones that don't, well..... let's just say they's reallll sorry once they realize what fools they are.

however, that's not what i am writing about in this post. in actuality, that was a completely fascious first mini-paragraph i just typed out. GOTCHA!

i have a friend. she is cool. she's the kind of cool where you can't wait to go out on the town with her because who knows what will happen.

for example, over the weekend, we ventured to a restaurant/bar to meet some of her friends. upon our arrival, the hostess handed us wristbands. "hmm," i thought to myself. "i didn't know you needed wristbands to get into a bar/restaurant. shooooot." after securing the neon orange strips of paper on our wrists, my friend instructed, "this way!" as we entered a very crowded gathering, my friend explained, "she asked if we were apart of the SMU party and i said yes."

now, i didn't ask around, but i'm purdy sure it was one frat and one sorority and they were looking at us like, "WHO THE **** ARE THESE *******?!" so, you know what we did? danced. and got free drinks. and obnoxiously smiled at everyone there. it was kind of like wedding crashers, minus montage sex scenes and minus a wedding.

if you were at said party that we crashed by some really ironic stroke of random... so sorry. but thanks for the drinks!

list of the week

perhaps i'll make this a new segment. let's give it a try.

this week's list is NBC male comedians i would like to marry (in no particular order... after the first one):

chris pratt
seth meyers
nick offerman
andy samberg
jason sudekis
and, just to follow the trend, john krasinski

imma gonna have alotta husbands.

an ode to mother's day

when i was wee one, i needed to be sure that my mom was going to be readily available to me if i needed her during the night. i tended to have night terrors involving witches back during my single-digit ages, so mother's prescence down the hall was a necessity to me.

however, there was one night in particular that i was pretty adament about all of this... (dodododododo... that's me making the "dream sequence" noise):

"do you swear you'll always be there for me?"
"yes, emily. i am ALWAYS here for you, no matter what."
"but what about when i grow up???"
"well, when you're grown up, if you need me and we live in different cities, you can always call me on the phone."
"...I CAN?? REALLY?!!!?"
i let this astounding fact sink in and paused for a few seconds before bursting into tears and sobbing, "BUT I DON'T KNOW YOUR PHONE NUMBER!"

oye. mothas. thank G-d for unconditional love.

dad joke of the day

and it didn't come from my dad either.

it finally hit me who one of my managers looks like - matthew fox, aka jack shepard from LOST. the resemblance is uncanny, so i don't know why it took me so long to figure that one out. i was so excited when i did, though, that i had to tell him this morning. his response?

"i don't watch LOST."

"well, you still look like him."

"you know who else people tell me i look like?"

"who?"

"denzel washington."

HA! OHHH YOU! HAHA!

it's dadddd joke. dadddd joke. dad joke of the day (there's a melody to that, but i guess you can make up your own)

peace out.

de mayo de memories

my fondest cinco de mayo memory is of sophomore year of college.

i don't remember much except a large amount of margaritas and, suddenly, i was in a frat house. no, no. not in that way. actually, we were all downstairs and, if memory serves me correctly, we invited ourselves and more or less infiltrated their system.

then my friend at the time threw her phone at my face and busted my bottom lip open.

happy cinco de mayo. beware of flying cell phones.

is it weird?

is it weird that i love hip hop?

is it weird that i daydream about either

a) being a booty-girl in a hip hop video (not the hardcore stuff, though. like, for example, a cool kids video)
or
b) dressing in 80s hip hop gear, i.e. gold chains, neon colors, crazy cool nike sneakers and making underground rap videos?

your answer to both of these is probably, "yes." and you know what i have to say to you?

A WHITE GIRL CAN DREAM. A WHITE GIRL THAT LOOKS LIKE SHE'S SOME SORT OF ETHNICITY DURING THE SUMMER CAN DREAM.

insane in the membrane...

should i consider that a pick-up line?

"you're kind of obnoxious."

"ummm... all right."

"you're just a little bit obnoxious. has anyone ever told you that?"

"nope, but i'm sure they've thought it."

"it's charming, though. i like it."

"mmkaysies. thanks for playing. WHADDO WE HAVE FOR HIM, JOHNNY?"

A BRAND NEW CARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!