Greetings anyone who stuck around,
I'm kind of embarrassed. That kind of embarrassed you feel when you haven't seen someone in a really long time and you finally see them again and they're all like, "You owe me $150 a**hole". And the only escape in the situation is to turn around and move your tree trunk legs as fast as they will carry you. Well, I can't run away from you right now because 1) I'm not wearing shoes 2) I'm not wearing pants 3) I just had a lot of dairy. One of those is false. I always wear shoes.
I'm ashamed at how long it's been since I blogged. I absolutely hate excuses; however, I have a darn good one for not writing. Sit down for this; you'll never believe it. Take a deep breath...the reason I didn't write for over a year was: LIFE. Life got in the way. I finished undergrad, graduated with honors, deconstructed forklift motors for a summer (we'll probably talk about that often), and made and unmade a huge professional decision. Now that we got that elephant out of the room...and while were on the topic, HOW THE HELL DID THE ELEPHANT GET IN THE ROOM IN THE FIRST PLACE?!
Now for the fun stuff, I talk about all the absurd things I noticed throughout the day. I'm going to cheat you again by talking about something that happened yesterday, but it's just got me all upset. I've noticed something slightly interesting about life. There's a direct correlation (yes, I'm scientific) between rudeness and intelligence. If you're really intelligent, you're as rude as someone about to go to the bathroom in his or her pants (or lack there of). Now, before you say, "Emily, you went too far with that simile," let's really look at this. I want you to go to a time in your life when you HAD TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. There's no "We'll take the next exit" or "I'll walk to the back of the store"..it's a goosebump-causing, stomach-churning, why-the-hell-did-I-have-gas-station-burritos primal urge to allow something to escape your body. When you're in the midst of that and you're heading for relief, there's no such thing as manners. That 3 year old who was standing too close to the bathroom door, bam...goodnight. That little old lady who needed you to get the peanut butter off the highest shelf, sorry grandma. And you don't apologize either - not until you've rid yourself of those demons. So no, it may not be intentional, but people who are about to do dirty dirty things in their pants are quite rude.
Back to my story, so the really intelligent people think the world owes them something and are, therefore, rude. Really stupid people, well, they just don't understand the ways of the world, so they're even worse than really intelligent people. Again, before everyone gets their shoe laces tangled and yells, "Emily, you're being insensitive. I'm intelligent and I'm relatively polite" or "Don't pick on stupid people." I will say, "I'm intelligent too and am frequently confused for Mother Theresa (too far?)." These are EXTREMES. That means 80% of us fall into the "I can do math without an electronic device and are kinda rude" or "I eat glue and are kinda polite" categories. But that 20%...that 20% would make a priest want to drive his car over kittens.
Colin and I went to Kroger yesterday because we're so broke that we look at food for dinner. I found some spare change in my purse so we got to buy some cheese. While we were waiting for a self-checkout, I spotted them. I am not a person of judgment, so I will only say that I could tell these people were in the said 20%...and they weren't at the top. The employee assisting the self-checkout wasn't pay much attention, so, we'll call her...Rude Ruth, Rude Ruth decided to whistle and snap to get the employee's attention because Rude Ruth couldn't figure out how to self-checkout her tomatoes. Produce is always so darn elusive at self-checkout. Now, I didn't get a good look, but I'm relatively certain the employee only had 2 legs. Which, if I am correct, means she could not possibly be a dog. Rude Ruth, therefore, was not entitled to snap and whistle at this non-doglike creature. Aside from being quite frustrated that Rude Ruth could whistle while only having 2 teeth and I can barely whistle having all my teeth but the half of a molar I just chipped on a Hot Pocket, I was thankful I was merely a bystander and not the employee. Because, the first time someone whistles and snaps at me, I will react as any other creature that was whistled at; I will bark at them, and then proceed to bite Rude Ruth's finger.
Keep letting it be,
Em
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Those Are Some Good Looking Triceps
Hi,
Another day. Another day. This morning I got totally motivated and ran like 4.5 miles. Now, there is a small cramp monster in my right calf who keeps stabbing my muscle every time I move one of my toes or my foot (Think of taking a fork and lightly pushing it into your forehead. Now, JAB IT and turn clockwise..that's what my calf feels like). I recently read an "advice on blogging" column. The man told me my blog needed purpose, and it needed to help the reader learn something he or she didn't previously know. So for this blog, your words of wisdom are...this is huge people; you may need to read it twice...STRETCH YOUR LEGS BEFORE RUNNING 4.5 MILES. I was sort of stretching but then "Party in the USA" came on my Ipod. I just got so pumped up I had to start running. Therefore, to please Mr. Iknowsomuchaboutbloggingthatiwriteablogabouthowtowriteblogs, my miscue on stretching and my recording of this miscue in my blog will teach my reader that he or she NEEDS to stretch no matter how much Miley is encouraging him or her to run.
While on my run, I ended up at the track at my local football field. There was already a woman at the track and she was doing tricep dips on the bleachers. I have always been mesmerized by these "circuit training" individuals. When I run, I just like to run. If I tried to get my body to work out more than one thing at once, it would just get angry, protest against my idea, and I would be collapsed in front of the bleachers in a sweaty pile of limbs. Anyways, I assume from a distance that this woman is around my age..maybe a little older or younger. Turns out, she was my mom! Kidding, my mom was at home making brownies. But, this woman was old enough to be my mom. She is, most likely, a mom herself. At that moment, I realize she is crazy. When I am a mom, I'm not going to work my triceps on bleachers, and I sure as heck will not be running 4.5 miles. I plan on getting my workouts by bending down to yell at my children when they yell obscenities (do you really think I'm going to be able to have a clean mouth around my kids ALL the time? Accidents happen), running towards my children when they are trying to put Froot Loops covered in ant poisoning in their mouths (true story, mom had to call poison control. We had an ant problem and a hungry brother), and lifting them so high that they think the fan is going to chop their heads off (I had a really tall uncle). Don't get my wrong, this woman was legit, and I totally respect her for keeping her body in tip top shape. But I will NOT be doing the boring exercises I do when I am old....so my other tip for you readers (2 for the price of 1 today): work your triceps while you are young because people will judge you if you do it when you're older.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Another day. Another day. This morning I got totally motivated and ran like 4.5 miles. Now, there is a small cramp monster in my right calf who keeps stabbing my muscle every time I move one of my toes or my foot (Think of taking a fork and lightly pushing it into your forehead. Now, JAB IT and turn clockwise..that's what my calf feels like). I recently read an "advice on blogging" column. The man told me my blog needed purpose, and it needed to help the reader learn something he or she didn't previously know. So for this blog, your words of wisdom are...this is huge people; you may need to read it twice...STRETCH YOUR LEGS BEFORE RUNNING 4.5 MILES. I was sort of stretching but then "Party in the USA" came on my Ipod. I just got so pumped up I had to start running. Therefore, to please Mr. Iknowsomuchaboutbloggingthatiwriteablogabouthowtowriteblogs, my miscue on stretching and my recording of this miscue in my blog will teach my reader that he or she NEEDS to stretch no matter how much Miley is encouraging him or her to run.
While on my run, I ended up at the track at my local football field. There was already a woman at the track and she was doing tricep dips on the bleachers. I have always been mesmerized by these "circuit training" individuals. When I run, I just like to run. If I tried to get my body to work out more than one thing at once, it would just get angry, protest against my idea, and I would be collapsed in front of the bleachers in a sweaty pile of limbs. Anyways, I assume from a distance that this woman is around my age..maybe a little older or younger. Turns out, she was my mom! Kidding, my mom was at home making brownies. But, this woman was old enough to be my mom. She is, most likely, a mom herself. At that moment, I realize she is crazy. When I am a mom, I'm not going to work my triceps on bleachers, and I sure as heck will not be running 4.5 miles. I plan on getting my workouts by bending down to yell at my children when they yell obscenities (do you really think I'm going to be able to have a clean mouth around my kids ALL the time? Accidents happen), running towards my children when they are trying to put Froot Loops covered in ant poisoning in their mouths (true story, mom had to call poison control. We had an ant problem and a hungry brother), and lifting them so high that they think the fan is going to chop their heads off (I had a really tall uncle). Don't get my wrong, this woman was legit, and I totally respect her for keeping her body in tip top shape. But I will NOT be doing the boring exercises I do when I am old....so my other tip for you readers (2 for the price of 1 today): work your triceps while you are young because people will judge you if you do it when you're older.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
I Almost Cut My Hair Into A Mohawk Today
HIYA FRIENDS!
Confession: I really didn't almost cut my hair into a mohawk today. To be quite frank, the thought didn't even cross my mind. But, it got you to read. So now that you're here, you might as well stay a while.
Without a people associated job, life becomes quite slow. I have gotten myself stuck in a rut. I'm not sad. I'm not happy. I'm not angry. I'm just treading water (in the shallow end because I can't swim very well). Anyways, the one thing that still sort of keeps me going is working out. Recently (because of my rut), I have been eating like Paula Deen at a butter convention. So the need to work out burns in the very depths of my gut; well that's probably just indigestion, but it gets me to workout so we'll leave it at that.
No..no we won't leave that point. Today, I went to work out in the afternoon at the Y. The 4th of July meant 1 thing for me: GO CRAZY IN THE FOOD DEPARTMENT. I baked a jello cake, some brownie/peanut butter/ marshmallow fluff concoction, and 2 batches of "There Has To Be A God Because These Are Too Delicious To Come From Anywhere Else" brownies. I also pleaded with my mother to make me baked beans. My relationship with baked beans is like the summer fling you have in Cancun. I have them in front of me, and they look SOOO GOOD! On impulse, you absolutely devour the object in front of you. But once you're done with it, you realize they did much more harm than good; AND YET, you go back to them every year (but only once a year because they do WAY TOO MUCH DAMAGE to have more than once).
So today, my poor body was processing all the above listed desserts, a serving size of baked beans that literally paid for 12 bean farmers' children to attend college (and med school), a veggie burger loaded with onions and cheese, ummm baked chips, macaroni and cheese, o gosh I'm getting nauseated...you get the picture.
With all the food in my mind, I thought today was a good day to KICK MY OWN BUTT! I went to the Y at an odd time in hopes there would be no one there (in the event my stupid stomach decided to actually digest something for a change). There were only a few people there and no one around me on the elliptical. I didn't go crazy because there is always the threat of the "I Just Farted And It's Lingering And The Girl Who Always Made Fun Of Me In High School Is Coming Right At Me" fart, but I made sure my stomach wasn't cramping..this is TMI and I know I will never become president because I'm putting this personal information on the internet.
When I went to the treadmill, however, there was someone beside me. I just wanted to jog out a mile...just to burn some extra calories, so I wasn't too worried. Letting my guard down was a MISTAKE. We'll just say that it would have been more pleasant for the woman beside me to smell my gym shoe filled with cheese and gasoline. So I hurriedly stopped the treadmill, and like a good gym rat, I went to clean the treadmill. Guess who only "paused" the treadmill and didn't bring it to a complete stop? THIS GIRL! Not only had the woman found out the worst my body could do, but she also watched me step of a treadmill that was still slightly moving. After a small fall and a "WOAH", I bid goodbye to the poor woman and went on my merry way (I most definitely did not bid goodbye...I put my head down and kicked myself for wearing a shirt with my last name on it). I hope I never see baked beans again.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Confession: I really didn't almost cut my hair into a mohawk today. To be quite frank, the thought didn't even cross my mind. But, it got you to read. So now that you're here, you might as well stay a while.
Without a people associated job, life becomes quite slow. I have gotten myself stuck in a rut. I'm not sad. I'm not happy. I'm not angry. I'm just treading water (in the shallow end because I can't swim very well). Anyways, the one thing that still sort of keeps me going is working out. Recently (because of my rut), I have been eating like Paula Deen at a butter convention. So the need to work out burns in the very depths of my gut; well that's probably just indigestion, but it gets me to workout so we'll leave it at that.
No..no we won't leave that point. Today, I went to work out in the afternoon at the Y. The 4th of July meant 1 thing for me: GO CRAZY IN THE FOOD DEPARTMENT. I baked a jello cake, some brownie/peanut butter/ marshmallow fluff concoction, and 2 batches of "There Has To Be A God Because These Are Too Delicious To Come From Anywhere Else" brownies. I also pleaded with my mother to make me baked beans. My relationship with baked beans is like the summer fling you have in Cancun. I have them in front of me, and they look SOOO GOOD! On impulse, you absolutely devour the object in front of you. But once you're done with it, you realize they did much more harm than good; AND YET, you go back to them every year (but only once a year because they do WAY TOO MUCH DAMAGE to have more than once).
So today, my poor body was processing all the above listed desserts, a serving size of baked beans that literally paid for 12 bean farmers' children to attend college (and med school), a veggie burger loaded with onions and cheese, ummm baked chips, macaroni and cheese, o gosh I'm getting nauseated...you get the picture.
With all the food in my mind, I thought today was a good day to KICK MY OWN BUTT! I went to the Y at an odd time in hopes there would be no one there (in the event my stupid stomach decided to actually digest something for a change). There were only a few people there and no one around me on the elliptical. I didn't go crazy because there is always the threat of the "I Just Farted And It's Lingering And The Girl Who Always Made Fun Of Me In High School Is Coming Right At Me" fart, but I made sure my stomach wasn't cramping..this is TMI and I know I will never become president because I'm putting this personal information on the internet.
When I went to the treadmill, however, there was someone beside me. I just wanted to jog out a mile...just to burn some extra calories, so I wasn't too worried. Letting my guard down was a MISTAKE. We'll just say that it would have been more pleasant for the woman beside me to smell my gym shoe filled with cheese and gasoline. So I hurriedly stopped the treadmill, and like a good gym rat, I went to clean the treadmill. Guess who only "paused" the treadmill and didn't bring it to a complete stop? THIS GIRL! Not only had the woman found out the worst my body could do, but she also watched me step of a treadmill that was still slightly moving. After a small fall and a "WOAH", I bid goodbye to the poor woman and went on my merry way (I most definitely did not bid goodbye...I put my head down and kicked myself for wearing a shirt with my last name on it). I hope I never see baked beans again.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Sunday, July 3, 2011
My Blog is Like A Foot...You Forget It's There; You Give It No Attention...THEN IT FREAKING STINKS!
Hello Everyone,
It's been a while again. I apologize...I decided to become everyone's everything this summer and haven't had a gosh darn moment to myself in ages. So, I'm turning a new page today and trying to be a blogger again - because my brain is becoming overloaded with Emily footnotes to life.
First of all, I want to have a quick discussion about time. So we all know that when I want time, finding it is like looking for Waldo in the student section of a Ohio State football game. But when you don't want time...say like when someone gets a sub toasted and you have to stand in front of them like a visor wearing lawn gnome for 35 seconds...it makes itself very painfully present. Here's an exercise: Go to the stopwatch in your phone, start it, wait thirty five seconds..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................Alright, now imagine how that would have felt if you would have been standing in front of a total stranger both of you locked in an "I'm Really Trying to Think of Something to Say But All I Can Think About Is How Weird Your Eyebrows Are" stare.
That's my life, and for that reason, I am resigning as a sandwich artist. Okay, okay, it's not just because of that; however, I will be ending my tenure at Subway tomorrow. I have found a different job..or two..or three, so I will be leaving the mayo slinging and bread slicing to the rest of my colleagues. HOLLA AT MY PEOPLE!
On a brighter note, my grandma is finally getting situated at the nursing home. She is totally pumped about being at ICHAWYSU (short for "I Can't Hear A Word You're Saying University" and known by most as The Gardens Nursing home, but I renamed it. Because if I got a quarter for every time I heard "HUH? You went to church for cheese and rice?", I would have enough money to buy my grandma bumpers for her electric wheel chair so she stops putting holes in the wall and getting charged for damages).
Anyways, grandma actually loves the place. She had a few best friends (one of which she has been friends with since she was 3). They talk smack about everyone else in their nursing home (which I'm not sure what exactly this "smack" is because Lord knows none of them can do the things most people who get talked "smack" about do..if you know what I'm saying. But, I do know Stella cheats at bingo and Martin hides some of his dinner in his knapsack because he's "backwards" - I would be more worried about Stella and Martin seeing this if the font was 72 but it's not so we don't need to worry).
I was reading through the newsletter for ICHAWYSU while we took down my grandma's bed yesterday (she sleeps on her chair..she's 80 something. If she wants to sleep in the chair, who are you to judge?! BACK OFF). Turns out July 14th is Nude Day...FORGET LAWRENCE WELK...we're playing Twister! Kidding..I will be avoiding the nursing home at all costs that day.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
It's been a while again. I apologize...I decided to become everyone's everything this summer and haven't had a gosh darn moment to myself in ages. So, I'm turning a new page today and trying to be a blogger again - because my brain is becoming overloaded with Emily footnotes to life.
First of all, I want to have a quick discussion about time. So we all know that when I want time, finding it is like looking for Waldo in the student section of a Ohio State football game. But when you don't want time...say like when someone gets a sub toasted and you have to stand in front of them like a visor wearing lawn gnome for 35 seconds...it makes itself very painfully present. Here's an exercise: Go to the stopwatch in your phone, start it, wait thirty five seconds..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................Alright, now imagine how that would have felt if you would have been standing in front of a total stranger both of you locked in an "I'm Really Trying to Think of Something to Say But All I Can Think About Is How Weird Your Eyebrows Are" stare.
That's my life, and for that reason, I am resigning as a sandwich artist. Okay, okay, it's not just because of that; however, I will be ending my tenure at Subway tomorrow. I have found a different job..or two..or three, so I will be leaving the mayo slinging and bread slicing to the rest of my colleagues. HOLLA AT MY PEOPLE!
On a brighter note, my grandma is finally getting situated at the nursing home. She is totally pumped about being at ICHAWYSU (short for "I Can't Hear A Word You're Saying University" and known by most as The Gardens Nursing home, but I renamed it. Because if I got a quarter for every time I heard "HUH? You went to church for cheese and rice?", I would have enough money to buy my grandma bumpers for her electric wheel chair so she stops putting holes in the wall and getting charged for damages).
Anyways, grandma actually loves the place. She had a few best friends (one of which she has been friends with since she was 3). They talk smack about everyone else in their nursing home (which I'm not sure what exactly this "smack" is because Lord knows none of them can do the things most people who get talked "smack" about do..if you know what I'm saying. But, I do know Stella cheats at bingo and Martin hides some of his dinner in his knapsack because he's "backwards" - I would be more worried about Stella and Martin seeing this if the font was 72 but it's not so we don't need to worry).
I was reading through the newsletter for ICHAWYSU while we took down my grandma's bed yesterday (she sleeps on her chair..she's 80 something. If she wants to sleep in the chair, who are you to judge?! BACK OFF). Turns out July 14th is Nude Day...FORGET LAWRENCE WELK...we're playing Twister! Kidding..I will be avoiding the nursing home at all costs that day.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Saturday, May 7, 2011
It's Okay to Poop Your Pants if All Your Friends Are Doing It
Hello people who like me...and those who don't and only read this because they enjoy how much I irritate them,
In honor of Mother's Day, this blog will be dedicated to the best, beautiful, witty, eccentric grandmother anyone could have - Evelyn Shellabarger.
Today, I visited my gradmother at the nursing home. Just so you guys can get a mental picture, she looks a lot like me just with a much longer nose, uglier clothes, and an electric wheelchair.
After listening to my grandma for two hours, I realized that the nursing home isn't much different than college. Grandma and her friend, Madeline, are the "Queen Bees" of the nursing home. They decide where people sit, what people do, and whether or not certain things are "cool."
Similarities I have noted between the nursing home and college:
1) People in both places seem to be okay to pee anywhere but the toilet.
2) There is always someone screaming - be it in delight, or pain, or just to yell.
3) Two-thirds of the residents are usually sleeping.
4) The cafeteria smells like wet dog.
5) People will run you over if you get in there way.
6) The people smell.
Differences between the nursing home and college:
1) You almost get run over by electric wheel chairs instead of actual cars
2) You can talk smack about the people in the nursing home because they can't hear you, and if they do hear you, they will forget what you said right after you leave.
3) You're allowed to have cats in the nursing home
Anyways, grandma is my hero. She had beaten three types of cancer. She was married to the love of her life for decades, and she raised my wonderful father to be all he is today. I love her so much for all that. However, the most entertaining aspects of my grandmother are her nursing home stories. So, the rest of this blog are true, paraphrased stories that my grandmother told us today...enjoy:
I call this story: Prune Juice is Never Good
"Todd, your bowels need to move. Go to my house and get my laxatives; they are very gentle. You will barely notice. Well if you're not going to use them, at least have Mary get you some prune juice. Let me tell you what, my neighbor Madeline drank a glass of prune juice yesterday and she sh*t herself. She had to clean it up and she said 'I just threw my pants away because I don't clean up sh*t.'"
And this one is called: BINGO
"I like to sit by the bingo caller because I'm hard on hearing. Well, there is a woman here who doesn't like me and just to spite me she gets to bingo an hour and a half early and she sits in my seat. So, the other day, Madeline saw her coming down the hallway towards the bingo room and she ran to my seat and she put her cane on it and she said 'This is Evelyn's seat.' She hasn't sat in my seat since."
Last, but not least: Not So Mexican Hat Dance
"Madeline came down to my room the other day and asked if I wanted to go watch Mexican dancing. I went with her because Price is Right had just ended. We got down there, and I didn't see one Mexican. There were three old women up there dancing to Spanish music; there wasn't one Mexican. I looked at Madeline and I said, 'I sat here for an hour and a half to watch three old women make an a** of themselves.'"
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
In honor of Mother's Day, this blog will be dedicated to the best, beautiful, witty, eccentric grandmother anyone could have - Evelyn Shellabarger.
Today, I visited my gradmother at the nursing home. Just so you guys can get a mental picture, she looks a lot like me just with a much longer nose, uglier clothes, and an electric wheelchair.
After listening to my grandma for two hours, I realized that the nursing home isn't much different than college. Grandma and her friend, Madeline, are the "Queen Bees" of the nursing home. They decide where people sit, what people do, and whether or not certain things are "cool."
Similarities I have noted between the nursing home and college:
1) People in both places seem to be okay to pee anywhere but the toilet.
2) There is always someone screaming - be it in delight, or pain, or just to yell.
3) Two-thirds of the residents are usually sleeping.
4) The cafeteria smells like wet dog.
5) People will run you over if you get in there way.
6) The people smell.
Differences between the nursing home and college:
1) You almost get run over by electric wheel chairs instead of actual cars
2) You can talk smack about the people in the nursing home because they can't hear you, and if they do hear you, they will forget what you said right after you leave.
3) You're allowed to have cats in the nursing home
Anyways, grandma is my hero. She had beaten three types of cancer. She was married to the love of her life for decades, and she raised my wonderful father to be all he is today. I love her so much for all that. However, the most entertaining aspects of my grandmother are her nursing home stories. So, the rest of this blog are true, paraphrased stories that my grandmother told us today...enjoy:
I call this story: Prune Juice is Never Good
"Todd, your bowels need to move. Go to my house and get my laxatives; they are very gentle. You will barely notice. Well if you're not going to use them, at least have Mary get you some prune juice. Let me tell you what, my neighbor Madeline drank a glass of prune juice yesterday and she sh*t herself. She had to clean it up and she said 'I just threw my pants away because I don't clean up sh*t.'"
And this one is called: BINGO
"I like to sit by the bingo caller because I'm hard on hearing. Well, there is a woman here who doesn't like me and just to spite me she gets to bingo an hour and a half early and she sits in my seat. So, the other day, Madeline saw her coming down the hallway towards the bingo room and she ran to my seat and she put her cane on it and she said 'This is Evelyn's seat.' She hasn't sat in my seat since."
Last, but not least: Not So Mexican Hat Dance
"Madeline came down to my room the other day and asked if I wanted to go watch Mexican dancing. I went with her because Price is Right had just ended. We got down there, and I didn't see one Mexican. There were three old women up there dancing to Spanish music; there wasn't one Mexican. I looked at Madeline and I said, 'I sat here for an hour and a half to watch three old women make an a** of themselves.'"
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Thursday, May 5, 2011
And Here We Go Into Summer
Hello Hello Hello,
Long time no see! Have you changed your hair? You clearly have been hitting the dessert bar a little heavy this year by the way your chin has become your chins, but hey, it happens to the best of us. We will get that extra flab off of ya real quick this summer!
Anyways, my apologies for going MIA for, well, months. I go to this place that few people have ever heard of. It's a magical place, like Narnia or Hogwarts, it's the one and only (at least as far as I know) Bluffton University. Today, I turned in my last exam and I am DONE. Except for my Cross Cultural trip next Thursday that will keep me away from the blogging scene for three more weeks, but I am sure the trip will give me more than enough content to make up for my absence.
So, I need to keep this one short because I am exhausted. Why are you exhausted, Emily? Well my dear friend, let me share. I moved out today. ON MY OWN. The Emily of the Present was quite upset with The Emily of the Past today when she realized that Past Emily had decided that a wooden beaver, an ice shaving machine, an oven mitt, and 16 cans of soup were all needed to be kept in a room for an entire year. Sixteen trips up and down the steps and an '95 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme packed from door to door later, I was sweating like my little sister when she realizes that I know she was walking on the railroad tracks with her boyfriend. I had to summon the strength of Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mark Henry (WWE wrestler..Shout out to Colin!), and a panda bear to shut my trunk. There is, however, something comforting in knowing that all the belongings you have are packed into your car. Try to pull me over cop...I dare you. I have 16 cans of soup, 2 snuggies, a basketball, and my Ipod; I could evade you for YEARS because, aside from bubble gum, the previous list would be all I need to survive. It's also quite high risk as well. One wrong turn, and I'm flying into a ditch being impaled by my movie shelf while I watch all my ratty underwear blow on to 75.
GOSH, I'm tired. Time for bed so I can drag myself up to work out tomorrow. Happy Cinco de Mayo, but more importantly, happy 2 year anniversary of my vegetarianism!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Long time no see! Have you changed your hair? You clearly have been hitting the dessert bar a little heavy this year by the way your chin has become your chins, but hey, it happens to the best of us. We will get that extra flab off of ya real quick this summer!
Anyways, my apologies for going MIA for, well, months. I go to this place that few people have ever heard of. It's a magical place, like Narnia or Hogwarts, it's the one and only (at least as far as I know) Bluffton University. Today, I turned in my last exam and I am DONE. Except for my Cross Cultural trip next Thursday that will keep me away from the blogging scene for three more weeks, but I am sure the trip will give me more than enough content to make up for my absence.
So, I need to keep this one short because I am exhausted. Why are you exhausted, Emily? Well my dear friend, let me share. I moved out today. ON MY OWN. The Emily of the Present was quite upset with The Emily of the Past today when she realized that Past Emily had decided that a wooden beaver, an ice shaving machine, an oven mitt, and 16 cans of soup were all needed to be kept in a room for an entire year. Sixteen trips up and down the steps and an '95 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme packed from door to door later, I was sweating like my little sister when she realizes that I know she was walking on the railroad tracks with her boyfriend. I had to summon the strength of Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mark Henry (WWE wrestler..Shout out to Colin!), and a panda bear to shut my trunk. There is, however, something comforting in knowing that all the belongings you have are packed into your car. Try to pull me over cop...I dare you. I have 16 cans of soup, 2 snuggies, a basketball, and my Ipod; I could evade you for YEARS because, aside from bubble gum, the previous list would be all I need to survive. It's also quite high risk as well. One wrong turn, and I'm flying into a ditch being impaled by my movie shelf while I watch all my ratty underwear blow on to 75.
GOSH, I'm tired. Time for bed so I can drag myself up to work out tomorrow. Happy Cinco de Mayo, but more importantly, happy 2 year anniversary of my vegetarianism!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Excuse Me Ladies and Gentlemen..This is Mambo Number 5
Good evening friends with benefits,
Friday, I plucked 2 of my grandma's chin hairs. It was exhilarating. I love my grandma with all of my heart, but I must say, she makes me scared poopless to grow old. She asked me to get these two hairs off her chin because they had been bothering her for a while. "Sure grandma, I'll rip out 2 of your chin hairs." I was excited to help grandma...until I got closer to her chin...2 hairs?!?!?! MORE LIKE 200...if I wasn't in my grandma's living room, I would have thought I was looking at Willie Nelson...they say ignorance is bliss...but I really don't want to be walking around with a hairy chin in 80 years. I just hope I plucked the right 2.
I'm currently watching "Sonny with a Chance" with my little sister. "Emmie, remember how Demi Levato died her hair black? Well, it's brown again." "O cool Jenny. You don't know the capital of Ohio, but you know Demi Levato's hair color...our school systems are really excelling." She made me realize something very important though. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I want EVERY girl between the ages of 6-15 to know every aspect about me. "Did you guys here Emily used 3 sheets of toilet paper today?!"
Sometimes I think that the most interesting people in the entire world reside in Northwest Ohio. Exhibit A) We were having a garage sale on Friday (yea, you should have bought my stuff because you could sell it on Ebay when I'm famous). This has nothing to do with the story I'm about to tell, but Paula Dean's skinny twim shopped at my garage sale..she bought a pair of kneepads and a wreath. Anyways, this pale preteen boy rode by on his bicycle and said, "O a sweeper. Can I buy it?" He then gave me three dollars and rode away on his bicycle. I gave him the dirt from my dorm for free. Exhibit B) Colin and I were in Meijer last night getting a raincheck on Tidy Cat, and I saw a woman whom I thought was Sinead O' Connor. She was dawning the usual post 10 pm Meijer outfit (a wife beater and cut off jean shorts), so her calfs were right there just asking for me to look at them. On her left calf was THE GREATEST TATOO EVER! Was it a cross? NO. Was it a life motto? NO. Was it a Twinkie? NO, but OK I lied, it was the second best tattoo ever. It was a rainbow..but not just any rainbow...it was a rainbow with a teddy bear wearing scuba gear under it. God Bless America.
This last section of my blog is used to honor my ultra talented cousin. Her voice makes Whitney Houston (pre-crack Whitney) sound like a car muffler with a dead kitten in it. So if you would like to hear the most beautiful singing voice in the world...check this out people!! (I figure if I don't get famous, she will, and I can ride her shirt tail into stardom!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx5ctICBO0w
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Friday, I plucked 2 of my grandma's chin hairs. It was exhilarating. I love my grandma with all of my heart, but I must say, she makes me scared poopless to grow old. She asked me to get these two hairs off her chin because they had been bothering her for a while. "Sure grandma, I'll rip out 2 of your chin hairs." I was excited to help grandma...until I got closer to her chin...2 hairs?!?!?! MORE LIKE 200...if I wasn't in my grandma's living room, I would have thought I was looking at Willie Nelson...they say ignorance is bliss...but I really don't want to be walking around with a hairy chin in 80 years. I just hope I plucked the right 2.
I'm currently watching "Sonny with a Chance" with my little sister. "Emmie, remember how Demi Levato died her hair black? Well, it's brown again." "O cool Jenny. You don't know the capital of Ohio, but you know Demi Levato's hair color...our school systems are really excelling." She made me realize something very important though. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I want EVERY girl between the ages of 6-15 to know every aspect about me. "Did you guys here Emily used 3 sheets of toilet paper today?!"
Sometimes I think that the most interesting people in the entire world reside in Northwest Ohio. Exhibit A) We were having a garage sale on Friday (yea, you should have bought my stuff because you could sell it on Ebay when I'm famous). This has nothing to do with the story I'm about to tell, but Paula Dean's skinny twim shopped at my garage sale..she bought a pair of kneepads and a wreath. Anyways, this pale preteen boy rode by on his bicycle and said, "O a sweeper. Can I buy it?" He then gave me three dollars and rode away on his bicycle. I gave him the dirt from my dorm for free. Exhibit B) Colin and I were in Meijer last night getting a raincheck on Tidy Cat, and I saw a woman whom I thought was Sinead O' Connor. She was dawning the usual post 10 pm Meijer outfit (a wife beater and cut off jean shorts), so her calfs were right there just asking for me to look at them. On her left calf was THE GREATEST TATOO EVER! Was it a cross? NO. Was it a life motto? NO. Was it a Twinkie? NO, but OK I lied, it was the second best tattoo ever. It was a rainbow..but not just any rainbow...it was a rainbow with a teddy bear wearing scuba gear under it. God Bless America.
This last section of my blog is used to honor my ultra talented cousin. Her voice makes Whitney Houston (pre-crack Whitney) sound like a car muffler with a dead kitten in it. So if you would like to hear the most beautiful singing voice in the world...check this out people!! (I figure if I don't get famous, she will, and I can ride her shirt tail into stardom!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx5ctICBO0w
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
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