i don't even know what to write. i feel like i've been away from planet earth for so long. you see, i started a new gig this week and it's crazy. crazy in a good way, but crazy nonetheless. no longer do i have the empty time to sit and write the funniest shit you've ever read in your life (i'm sorry, was that cocky?) so, please forgive my lack thereof for a little while until i find the rhythm of this new position i am in (that wasn't meant to sound sexual at all).
however, i'll leave you with this thought:
when people say "i could make that" i want to say "THEN MAKE IT!" granted, a lot of art and clothing people concoct on their own seems pretty simple and it's easy to say to yourself "i could've painted a square" or "i could've sewn a patch to the crotch of those jeans" but guess what? YA DIDN'T. so don't comment about it! if you think you could come up with something really simple and make millions off of it... then make it. do it. get er done. yes, we question a lot of things that become "trends" or that sell for hundreds of dollars in art galleries because of how simplistic and not special they seem, but the difference is that YOU didn't think of it. you didn't come up with something so simple and somehow play it off as something extraordinary.
if you're one of those people, quit reading this and GO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
i'll give you a jump start: draw a circle with another smaller circle in it and then a triangle off in the upper left hand corner. you just made yourself $1000. COUNT IT!
-emma
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
guest blog - the first and (probably) last
i've never done this before and i don't plan on making it a habit. but the story i was told a few days was so incredibly out of control and hilarious, i told my friend she HAD to let me post it on here. i'm torn because half of me is jealous it isn't MY story but the other half of me is relieved beyond pepto bismol that it isn't.
this email came to me on friday. the title alone had me at hello. it read: "the tale of the worst morning ever." sounds like a children's book, right? well, the story that followed the title is not suitable for kids, but it is, however, suitable for young adults and real adults. so, please, allow me to share with you the worst morning in the history of mornings that my good friend lived to tell the tale about. enjoy.
Well. I thought I would share this with you all because it is almost unbelievable. Basically, this goes down as the worst morning in history. No questions asked.
I wake up at 6.30a to a great song on the Iphone and was like, "Ahh. I'm SO happy to be awake. Oh. Uh. OMG..." and then it happens. Nausea. Like no one's business. I was ill. Badly, badly ill. And oh, don't worry, after vomiting profusely, the toilet overflows. Onto my floor. So then I just start gagging and crying, which, in turn, leads to more nausea.
Well, having laid in or around the toilet from 6.35a to almost 7.30a, I realize that yes, I was indeed going to be late for work, if I was even going to make it at all. I shower, feeling strangely lightheaded and like I would pass out at any second. I apply my lotion, throw on some makeup and proceed to do my hair. Well, I trip on my straightener's cord and fall into the hallway door, smashing my previously injured elbow. I come out relatively unscathed, however it only added to the morning’s misery.
At this point, I decide it’s time to get my contacts in, which is always a problem. I approach the situation with caution, but alas, God has it out for me today. My contact goes too far up and becomes literally lodged BEHIND my eye. Behind it. I'm not fucking around, I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital. Fortunately (!) the excruciating pain of having plastic behind your eyeball invoked a stream of tears, which flushed the contact out after about 12 minutes of hell. Oh, but don't worry, the crying and digging around in my eyeball left me with NO MAKEUP ON, thus forcing me to completely redo my entire face.
At this point I'm worn out and it's 8.30a. I call my boss and tell her it's a miracle I’m even attempting to get out in the world today. “Is it Friday the 13th,” I ask myself. No, Stephanie. This is your life. This is karma or something. At this point I decide nothing else could possibly go wrong. I hop in my car and drive directly into the back of another parked vehicle. The Honda decal shoots off the front of my car and flies into my neighbor’s yard. Fortunately, the massive truck I drove in to has an extended metal hitch. THANK GOD, ya know? So his titanium metal hitch experiences zero damage, and the hood of my car is fucked up. Silver lining?
Here we are, worst day ever, and wow-it was only 9a. Don't worry, it gets "better" ("better" meaning "are you FUCKING kidding me, life?") I make my way to get gas because the only thing keeping my feet moving one in front of the other is the glimmer of hope I see in picking Emma up from the airport and getting the hell outta Dodge aka Tulsa aka my personal hell. Well, my card is declined. In front of 20 waiting eyes, glaring at me for taking so fucking long. "Who the hell pays at the counter anyway," was the question I read in everyone's eyes. Yeah, declined. And yeah, who pays at the counter anyways. Me.
I call Bank of America because I HAVE money. I know I do. Hmm, it seems when I opened my new savings account the day before, they managed to completely lose all my information on my checking account AND I wasn’t linked to my debit card. At all. Ha. At this point, I officially had no money to my name. Oh, and there was no way for me to get money either. I frantically call the bank and ask them for some help. They give me none. The only advice? Go to the local branch and they will sort it all out in person aka they think I'm lying/I’m a robber/something.
So. Here I am. Barely breathing. I'm at work. I have nothing in my stomach. I have no money to my name because my checking account doesn't exist. I have a wrecked car. My eyeball is red. My elbow hurts from the trip over the cord. I'm fat. I’m ugly. And I’m grumpy.
Yours truly,
Anonymous
this email came to me on friday. the title alone had me at hello. it read: "the tale of the worst morning ever." sounds like a children's book, right? well, the story that followed the title is not suitable for kids, but it is, however, suitable for young adults and real adults. so, please, allow me to share with you the worst morning in the history of mornings that my good friend lived to tell the tale about. enjoy.
Well. I thought I would share this with you all because it is almost unbelievable. Basically, this goes down as the worst morning in history. No questions asked.
I wake up at 6.30a to a great song on the Iphone and was like, "Ahh. I'm SO happy to be awake. Oh. Uh. OMG..." and then it happens. Nausea. Like no one's business. I was ill. Badly, badly ill. And oh, don't worry, after vomiting profusely, the toilet overflows. Onto my floor. So then I just start gagging and crying, which, in turn, leads to more nausea.
Well, having laid in or around the toilet from 6.35a to almost 7.30a, I realize that yes, I was indeed going to be late for work, if I was even going to make it at all. I shower, feeling strangely lightheaded and like I would pass out at any second. I apply my lotion, throw on some makeup and proceed to do my hair. Well, I trip on my straightener's cord and fall into the hallway door, smashing my previously injured elbow. I come out relatively unscathed, however it only added to the morning’s misery.
At this point, I decide it’s time to get my contacts in, which is always a problem. I approach the situation with caution, but alas, God has it out for me today. My contact goes too far up and becomes literally lodged BEHIND my eye. Behind it. I'm not fucking around, I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital. Fortunately (!) the excruciating pain of having plastic behind your eyeball invoked a stream of tears, which flushed the contact out after about 12 minutes of hell. Oh, but don't worry, the crying and digging around in my eyeball left me with NO MAKEUP ON, thus forcing me to completely redo my entire face.
At this point I'm worn out and it's 8.30a. I call my boss and tell her it's a miracle I’m even attempting to get out in the world today. “Is it Friday the 13th,” I ask myself. No, Stephanie. This is your life. This is karma or something. At this point I decide nothing else could possibly go wrong. I hop in my car and drive directly into the back of another parked vehicle. The Honda decal shoots off the front of my car and flies into my neighbor’s yard. Fortunately, the massive truck I drove in to has an extended metal hitch. THANK GOD, ya know? So his titanium metal hitch experiences zero damage, and the hood of my car is fucked up. Silver lining?
Here we are, worst day ever, and wow-it was only 9a. Don't worry, it gets "better" ("better" meaning "are you FUCKING kidding me, life?") I make my way to get gas because the only thing keeping my feet moving one in front of the other is the glimmer of hope I see in picking Emma up from the airport and getting the hell outta Dodge aka Tulsa aka my personal hell. Well, my card is declined. In front of 20 waiting eyes, glaring at me for taking so fucking long. "Who the hell pays at the counter anyway," was the question I read in everyone's eyes. Yeah, declined. And yeah, who pays at the counter anyways. Me.
I call Bank of America because I HAVE money. I know I do. Hmm, it seems when I opened my new savings account the day before, they managed to completely lose all my information on my checking account AND I wasn’t linked to my debit card. At all. Ha. At this point, I officially had no money to my name. Oh, and there was no way for me to get money either. I frantically call the bank and ask them for some help. They give me none. The only advice? Go to the local branch and they will sort it all out in person aka they think I'm lying/I’m a robber/something.
So. Here I am. Barely breathing. I'm at work. I have nothing in my stomach. I have no money to my name because my checking account doesn't exist. I have a wrecked car. My eyeball is red. My elbow hurts from the trip over the cord. I'm fat. I’m ugly. And I’m grumpy.
Yours truly,
Anonymous
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
left lane ends, merge right
hey there!
as you can see, my beautiful and talented sister is helping me revamp the ol' blog. be patient, stay tuned and go make me a sandwich while we get this thing just right.
oh, sidenote: in addition to the new look, i've also added a sidebar to show my daily tweets and made it an option at the end of every post to "share" the post using your gmail, twitter, facebook, YOU NAME IT! not that you have to appreciate or use any of these new additions. i just wanted to give everything a little more "umph!" and if you don't like it... get out.
exes and ohs,
emma
as you can see, my beautiful and talented sister is helping me revamp the ol' blog. be patient, stay tuned and go make me a sandwich while we get this thing just right.
oh, sidenote: in addition to the new look, i've also added a sidebar to show my daily tweets and made it an option at the end of every post to "share" the post using your gmail, twitter, facebook, YOU NAME IT! not that you have to appreciate or use any of these new additions. i just wanted to give everything a little more "umph!" and if you don't like it... get out.
exes and ohs,
emma
Monday, July 19, 2010
4 times is a charm
i didn't realize this was happening until after the fact, but when i put it all together i was pretty proud of myself.
today is one of those mondays. like it's a MON-DAY. tired, sloppy, frizzy, hungry monday. so what did i decide to do during my lunch break today? why, make this monday that much harder on myself, of course!
after pittling around for way too long, i finally decided to grab some lunch from (where else) chipotle. since i was by my abode, i went to the closest location. however, i got all turned around on my way there, had to u-turn twice, and once i arrived, no parking spots ANYWHERE. so... i left and headed toward the next available chipotle.
fiddle dee dee and a ratta tat too, for some reason, i also got completely turned around on my way to chipotle #2 and ended up being frazzled and whizzing right by it. this is when i started getting angry and yelling at cars.
"I'M GONNA NEED YOU TO MOVE. PLEASE. MOVE YOUR CAR. THAT'S ALL I WANT."
THEN i decided, in my determination, "this is fine. i'll just stop at the one on my way to the office." HA! said the universe. you're obviously delusional from your thoughts being saturated by cilantro rice sugarplums dancing in your head. upon pulling up to the THIRD chipotle in 15 minutes, the line was spilling onto the street to the point of causing an accident. it was at this point that i unleashed.
"ARE YOU KIDDING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
i feel like most people would probably give up by now. but, no. not this bitch. not this chipotle-addict-bitch. i drove PAST my office to the last chipotle i knew that was in reasonable distance and i pulled up to that sucker and i parked in a "compact only" spot and i marched in, gave the guy my order, made a comment about the new chip bags, got back in my car, drove back in a fury shoveling chips in my mouth, got to my desk and pounded that shit like it was going out of style.
take that, chipotle. YOU CAN'T DENY ME. I CAN ONLY DENY MYSELF. and i probably should next time....
emma
today is one of those mondays. like it's a MON-DAY. tired, sloppy, frizzy, hungry monday. so what did i decide to do during my lunch break today? why, make this monday that much harder on myself, of course!
after pittling around for way too long, i finally decided to grab some lunch from (where else) chipotle. since i was by my abode, i went to the closest location. however, i got all turned around on my way there, had to u-turn twice, and once i arrived, no parking spots ANYWHERE. so... i left and headed toward the next available chipotle.
fiddle dee dee and a ratta tat too, for some reason, i also got completely turned around on my way to chipotle #2 and ended up being frazzled and whizzing right by it. this is when i started getting angry and yelling at cars.
"I'M GONNA NEED YOU TO MOVE. PLEASE. MOVE YOUR CAR. THAT'S ALL I WANT."
THEN i decided, in my determination, "this is fine. i'll just stop at the one on my way to the office." HA! said the universe. you're obviously delusional from your thoughts being saturated by cilantro rice sugarplums dancing in your head. upon pulling up to the THIRD chipotle in 15 minutes, the line was spilling onto the street to the point of causing an accident. it was at this point that i unleashed.
"ARE YOU KIDDING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
i feel like most people would probably give up by now. but, no. not this bitch. not this chipotle-addict-bitch. i drove PAST my office to the last chipotle i knew that was in reasonable distance and i pulled up to that sucker and i parked in a "compact only" spot and i marched in, gave the guy my order, made a comment about the new chip bags, got back in my car, drove back in a fury shoveling chips in my mouth, got to my desk and pounded that shit like it was going out of style.
take that, chipotle. YOU CAN'T DENY ME. I CAN ONLY DENY MYSELF. and i probably should next time....
emma
Friday, July 16, 2010
put this in your daily dictionary
i came up with a new term.
you wanna know what it is?
it's amazing.
no, the term isn't "amazing." i mean it IS, but that's not the word.
are you ready?
you're gonna use it a lot.
i hope you do, anyway...
it's sexciting.
SEXCITING. SEXCITED. SEXCITE. sex + exciting = sexciting.
you can use it to describe a sexual endeavor or to say that you're sexually excited about something that's happening.
here's an example: "chipotle makes me sexcited."
that's just one of MANY, MANY examples. not all of them include chipotle, but most do.
please use it and spread it and utilize it and love it. even if you use it to pick someone up or say it in a sexual voice while getting it on with someone..... that's okay, too.
i'm so sexcited and i just can't hide it,
emma
you wanna know what it is?
it's amazing.
no, the term isn't "amazing." i mean it IS, but that's not the word.
are you ready?
you're gonna use it a lot.
i hope you do, anyway...
it's sexciting.
SEXCITING. SEXCITED. SEXCITE. sex + exciting = sexciting.
you can use it to describe a sexual endeavor or to say that you're sexually excited about something that's happening.
here's an example: "chipotle makes me sexcited."
that's just one of MANY, MANY examples. not all of them include chipotle, but most do.
please use it and spread it and utilize it and love it. even if you use it to pick someone up or say it in a sexual voice while getting it on with someone..... that's okay, too.
i'm so sexcited and i just can't hide it,
emma
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
a pick-up line to rule them all
if you're an avid follower of my blog, you're probably pretty cool.
if you're not... then you're probably not even reading this and for that, i hate you.
but, really. if you have read my past blogs, does my one about that horrible pick-up line ring a bell? ya know... the one where the short midget man was "shooting a gun" at the knot in my jumper? to get it come untied? so he could see my upper lady parts?
that was definitely one of the worst pick-up attempts that i have ever experienced.
HOWEVER, when the big man closes a door, he opens a window in hopes you won't attempt to jump out of that window but rather sit by it serenly with a cup of tea and spy on your neighbors. or maybe you just appreciate the fact that the window is there, but you're not sure what to do with it quite yet. or maybe you're just a conceited bitch who doesn't think she needs the window and hires some glass installers to install a mirror where the window was. REGARDLESS, read on.
for every bad pick-up attempt, there's a decent one and that is what i discovered today on my frazzled lunch break. while in line at the local burrito joint (i swear i'm not talking about chipotle) (no, seriously. it really wasn't chipotle), a kind burrito-maker and i had the following exchange of dialogue:
BM (stands for Burrito Maker. sickos): cilantro, onions, lettuce?
me: all 3 please, but go light on the onions
BM: are you going to be coming into close contact with someone later on today?
me: hmmm, not that i'm aware of. unless it happens randomly...
BM: well, i get off tonight around 8, so...
me: HAHAHA. that was good.
BM: the thing is, i already have plans. but if i didn't, i probably wouldn't be kidding
me: HA! ok. well. have a good day...
props. props to you, whoever you really are. being ballsy deserves a props. so here you go and thank you for my tacos.
emma
if you're not... then you're probably not even reading this and for that, i hate you.
but, really. if you have read my past blogs, does my one about that horrible pick-up line ring a bell? ya know... the one where the short midget man was "shooting a gun" at the knot in my jumper? to get it come untied? so he could see my upper lady parts?
that was definitely one of the worst pick-up attempts that i have ever experienced.
HOWEVER, when the big man closes a door, he opens a window in hopes you won't attempt to jump out of that window but rather sit by it serenly with a cup of tea and spy on your neighbors. or maybe you just appreciate the fact that the window is there, but you're not sure what to do with it quite yet. or maybe you're just a conceited bitch who doesn't think she needs the window and hires some glass installers to install a mirror where the window was. REGARDLESS, read on.
for every bad pick-up attempt, there's a decent one and that is what i discovered today on my frazzled lunch break. while in line at the local burrito joint (i swear i'm not talking about chipotle) (no, seriously. it really wasn't chipotle), a kind burrito-maker and i had the following exchange of dialogue:
BM (stands for Burrito Maker. sickos): cilantro, onions, lettuce?
me: all 3 please, but go light on the onions
BM: are you going to be coming into close contact with someone later on today?
me: hmmm, not that i'm aware of. unless it happens randomly...
BM: well, i get off tonight around 8, so...
me: HAHAHA. that was good.
BM: the thing is, i already have plans. but if i didn't, i probably wouldn't be kidding
me: HA! ok. well. have a good day...
props. props to you, whoever you really are. being ballsy deserves a props. so here you go and thank you for my tacos.
emma
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
coffee talk
i don't mean to put a damper on yesterday's blog, but i've just gotta say this:
the best part of waking up, is folgers in your cup.
WRONG. most deceiving jingle ever created. should've gone something like this:
the only (somewhat) decent part of waking up, is your general cup of morning coffee. other than that, it always blows.
have a great day...
emma
the best part of waking up, is folgers in your cup.
WRONG. most deceiving jingle ever created. should've gone something like this:
the only (somewhat) decent part of waking up, is your general cup of morning coffee. other than that, it always blows.
have a great day...
emma
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
tween angst
did your parents have weird names for body parts when you were growing up? do they still? do you have bad credit? if so, keep reading. this will really speak to your problems.
no, i'm kidding. if you have bad credit, get the FUCK off my blog site. you don't even deserve to be on here. i don't serve people with bad credit.
no, i'm kidding again. i don't even have credit. or maybe i do. i can't remember. if i do and i don't remember, i'm obviously on the right track to success.
let's get to the main thrust of my blog. when i was a young one, my parents created a word to reference our female parts. what's that you say? that's WEIRD? you may be right, but it's entertaining nonetheless.
they called it a "pupie." i just sat here for 2 minutes trying to think of how i could phonetically spell that for you, but i'm not having any luck. it kind of sounds like puppy, but more so like poopy. it's combo between puppy and poopy. poopy puppy.
ANYWAY - our parents claim to have told us it was a made up word at one point or another, but we either just didn't hear them or forgot about it, because, one night, while at the local movie theatre, my dad began to yell out "PUPIE!!!" as loudly as he could.
keep in mind, my sister and i didn't understand that it was a completely made up word that referenced our whoo-ha's. in our tween eyes, our father was sitting in the middle of a huge, crowded theatre at the most popular cinemark in town screaming, "VAGINA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! VAGINA!!!!!! VAGINA!!!!!" this was also the age where going to the movies was the end-all and be-all of the social scene. going to see shrek? might as well be attending a red carpet event, shooooot.
so as my father is screaming what we think everyone else hears as "VAGINA!", my sister and i are close to death. completely wedged down into our seats, tears beginning to form in our eyes, BEGGING my dad to please stop. as i saw my entire social life flash before my eyes (and when i say entire social life i mean hanging with my family and maybe 1 friend every other weekend...), my dad turns to us in utter confusion and says, "what are you freaking about?! it's a made up word! i thought you knew that!"
still weary of his honesty, he urged us to go to school the next day and test it out. "seriously. go up to any of your friends and say it. they won't understand. they'll probably think you're talking about a dog." so, the next day at school, i walked straight up to one of my best friends and exclaimed, "MY PUPIE ITCHES." "your puppy?" she asks. "how do you know your puppy is itching? wait, you guys have a dog now?!"
and, from that day forth, i would walk the halls of my school exclaiming things about my pupie. not really, but it definitely made conversations a bit more interesting on my end.
my pupie brings all the boys to the yard,
emma
no, i'm kidding. if you have bad credit, get the FUCK off my blog site. you don't even deserve to be on here. i don't serve people with bad credit.
no, i'm kidding again. i don't even have credit. or maybe i do. i can't remember. if i do and i don't remember, i'm obviously on the right track to success.
let's get to the main thrust of my blog. when i was a young one, my parents created a word to reference our female parts. what's that you say? that's WEIRD? you may be right, but it's entertaining nonetheless.
they called it a "pupie." i just sat here for 2 minutes trying to think of how i could phonetically spell that for you, but i'm not having any luck. it kind of sounds like puppy, but more so like poopy. it's combo between puppy and poopy. poopy puppy.
ANYWAY - our parents claim to have told us it was a made up word at one point or another, but we either just didn't hear them or forgot about it, because, one night, while at the local movie theatre, my dad began to yell out "PUPIE!!!" as loudly as he could.
keep in mind, my sister and i didn't understand that it was a completely made up word that referenced our whoo-ha's. in our tween eyes, our father was sitting in the middle of a huge, crowded theatre at the most popular cinemark in town screaming, "VAGINA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! VAGINA!!!!!! VAGINA!!!!!" this was also the age where going to the movies was the end-all and be-all of the social scene. going to see shrek? might as well be attending a red carpet event, shooooot.
so as my father is screaming what we think everyone else hears as "VAGINA!", my sister and i are close to death. completely wedged down into our seats, tears beginning to form in our eyes, BEGGING my dad to please stop. as i saw my entire social life flash before my eyes (and when i say entire social life i mean hanging with my family and maybe 1 friend every other weekend...), my dad turns to us in utter confusion and says, "what are you freaking about?! it's a made up word! i thought you knew that!"
still weary of his honesty, he urged us to go to school the next day and test it out. "seriously. go up to any of your friends and say it. they won't understand. they'll probably think you're talking about a dog." so, the next day at school, i walked straight up to one of my best friends and exclaimed, "MY PUPIE ITCHES." "your puppy?" she asks. "how do you know your puppy is itching? wait, you guys have a dog now?!"
and, from that day forth, i would walk the halls of my school exclaiming things about my pupie. not really, but it definitely made conversations a bit more interesting on my end.
my pupie brings all the boys to the yard,
emma
Thursday, July 1, 2010
disgruntled customers
i had a current follower of my blog let me know that my last post was more or less worthless. i understand that writing a 2 sentence entry about how i was just CHOKING TO DEATH may not prove interesting to most, but guess what?
I DIDN'T ASK.
however, he had a point. and i agree. so, i'm sorry. and just to make it up to you, i will now post something with a little more UMPH.
actually, ya know what? i'm not. i have work to do and i'm not here for your entertainment (HA). you're just going to have be patient and hopefully i'll come at you when you least expect it.
until then...
emma
I DIDN'T ASK.
however, he had a point. and i agree. so, i'm sorry. and just to make it up to you, i will now post something with a little more UMPH.
actually, ya know what? i'm not. i have work to do and i'm not here for your entertainment (HA). you're just going to have be patient and hopefully i'll come at you when you least expect it.
until then...
emma
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