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
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
I'm Gonna Give All My Secrets Away
O hey guys,
Long time no speak! Miss me? That's ok...neither do my dogs when I go to school. Anyways, this blog is going to be of a different format. The beginning will be normal....but the second half will be a bit deeper (more serious Emily), so I understand if you want to quit reading after the lighter half...because the second half may be the equivalent of seeing your mom naked (you probably won't look at me the same after you read it).
So I think I have a disease. I diagnosed myself with KMMPS. It's a horrible disease that interferes with my everyday life. It especially ruins my grocery shopping time. KMMPS is short for, "Kroger Makes Me Poop Syndrome." You see, I will be minding my own business, looking at frozen vegan dinners, and WAM BAM UNCLE SAM..my intestines feel like they are going to explode all over Aisle 8 (thank goodness the toilet paper aisle is right beside the frozen dinner aisle). For a normal human being, this wouldn't be a giant problem...but I also suffer from PBSTHOOMS. "Public Bathrooms Scare The Heck Out Of Me Syndrome," causes me to break out into a cold sweat and sing random show tunes so using the bathroom at Kroger is NOT an option.
Because of this, I can't even pick out my dang meal..I just sprint to produce and grab a sweet potato. Then, I do self check out and book it to my car. Here, the pain begins. You know that feeling when you wait until the LAST possible minute to relieve yourself? Well, I deal with that for about 4.5 minutes because the traffic gods set up the most ANNOYING 3 lights in all of St. Marys on the road to my house. All that stands between me and porcelain relief are traffic lights that are timed so that you must stop at every one of them. I know someone up there is getting a real kick out of watching me have poop trembles at every light. There is, however, always a fitting song on the radio during my misery. Today, it was "Jesus Take the Wheel." Fitting.."Jesus take the wheel. Take if from my hands 'cuz I can't do this on my own. I'm letting go" because I need to hold my pants! God Bless America.
SPOILER ALERT: I'm bout to get surious!!
Life has been sooo turbulent for me the past 2 years or so. I wouldn't trade a second of it for anything because every laugh, every relationship (or lack there of), every tear, and every Marbeck meal (k not TOTALLY serious) has made me the person I am today. Most of you who read this probably know me life you know a Babe Ruth candy bar. I look DELICIOUS and fairly normal on the outside..but inside..I'm NUTS! Basically what I am trying to say is even if you don't think you had an impact on me...you did. And I may not be perfect, I understand that now more than ever, but I'm Emily Eileen Shellabarger. And there isn't a darn person who can be Emily Eileen Shellabarger better! (except for maybe my sister..she does GREAT impressions). I just love you...that's all.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Long time no speak! Miss me? That's ok...neither do my dogs when I go to school. Anyways, this blog is going to be of a different format. The beginning will be normal....but the second half will be a bit deeper (more serious Emily), so I understand if you want to quit reading after the lighter half...because the second half may be the equivalent of seeing your mom naked (you probably won't look at me the same after you read it).
So I think I have a disease. I diagnosed myself with KMMPS. It's a horrible disease that interferes with my everyday life. It especially ruins my grocery shopping time. KMMPS is short for, "Kroger Makes Me Poop Syndrome." You see, I will be minding my own business, looking at frozen vegan dinners, and WAM BAM UNCLE SAM..my intestines feel like they are going to explode all over Aisle 8 (thank goodness the toilet paper aisle is right beside the frozen dinner aisle). For a normal human being, this wouldn't be a giant problem...but I also suffer from PBSTHOOMS. "Public Bathrooms Scare The Heck Out Of Me Syndrome," causes me to break out into a cold sweat and sing random show tunes so using the bathroom at Kroger is NOT an option.
Because of this, I can't even pick out my dang meal..I just sprint to produce and grab a sweet potato. Then, I do self check out and book it to my car. Here, the pain begins. You know that feeling when you wait until the LAST possible minute to relieve yourself? Well, I deal with that for about 4.5 minutes because the traffic gods set up the most ANNOYING 3 lights in all of St. Marys on the road to my house. All that stands between me and porcelain relief are traffic lights that are timed so that you must stop at every one of them. I know someone up there is getting a real kick out of watching me have poop trembles at every light. There is, however, always a fitting song on the radio during my misery. Today, it was "Jesus Take the Wheel." Fitting.."Jesus take the wheel. Take if from my hands 'cuz I can't do this on my own. I'm letting go" because I need to hold my pants! God Bless America.
SPOILER ALERT: I'm bout to get surious!!
Life has been sooo turbulent for me the past 2 years or so. I wouldn't trade a second of it for anything because every laugh, every relationship (or lack there of), every tear, and every Marbeck meal (k not TOTALLY serious) has made me the person I am today. Most of you who read this probably know me life you know a Babe Ruth candy bar. I look DELICIOUS and fairly normal on the outside..but inside..I'm NUTS! Basically what I am trying to say is even if you don't think you had an impact on me...you did. And I may not be perfect, I understand that now more than ever, but I'm Emily Eileen Shellabarger. And there isn't a darn person who can be Emily Eileen Shellabarger better! (except for maybe my sister..she does GREAT impressions). I just love you...that's all.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Monday, August 9, 2010
Would you like to share my toasted cheese?
Holla,
I worked today...for the first time in 3 days. O Subway, I missed thee. However, I do have a bit of venting to do. I would like to vent about the patrons I would like to call "Picky, Picky Princesses." Don't get me wrong, I respect and appreciate people who can't stand sauces or lettuce or peppers (I HATE MAYO...if Satan bathes, he uses mayo for soap). These are not the people I am addressing. PPP's are people who think that they deserve the GREATEST veggies on Earth...veggies that grow in the buttcrack of sunshine. I NEVER put pickle or banana pepper butts onto subs, I always toss brown lettuce, and I never use a green tomato...so DON'T YOU DARE criticize the vegetables I do use.
So the most Picky, Picky Princess of them all came in tonight; she is a frequent customer, so I thought I was prepared. Well it turns out she was deemed the Queen of Pickiness before she came in, so she was in rare form tonight. "Your tomatoes look skinny; I think you should get out different ones." "You really skimp on the onions." "Keep the sub on the paper, so I get the vegetables that you dropped off my sub."
OKAY!! First of all, SOMEONE HAS TO GET THE SKINNY TOMATOES!! And sorry mam, today it's you..They taste EXACTLY the same. I'll give you 6 instead of 5..RELAX!! O my bad, I forgot the 11th Commandment was, "Thou shalt not put skinny tomatoes on a sub."
Secondly, I did not SKIMP on your onions. I put the amount I was supposed to! If you would have said "EXTRA", it would have been skimpy. BUT NOOOOO, you were so busy worrying about the "skinny tomatoes" that you forgot to say "EXTRA." "O, OK, you want more onions...HERE is enough onions to fill the void in your heart that causes you to come in and terrorize me!"
Thirdly, if you would have just let me put the "skinny tomatoes" on...your other veggies wouldn't have fallen off :)
I am more than willing to make your sub eating experience comparable to the joy you will feel on your wedding day, but it kind of tickles my pickles when you try to tell me how to do my job. I am the certified sandwich artist..you, Picky Picky Princesses, are simply tomato hating, onion judging, stingymonsters. So if you think I'm being stingy, buy a pig, grow a garden, kill the pig, pick the veggies, watch Jeopardy (that's just a good show), milk a cow full of honey mustard (they make those you know?), mug Aunt Millie, and MAKE YOUR OWN SUB!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
I worked today...for the first time in 3 days. O Subway, I missed thee. However, I do have a bit of venting to do. I would like to vent about the patrons I would like to call "Picky, Picky Princesses." Don't get me wrong, I respect and appreciate people who can't stand sauces or lettuce or peppers (I HATE MAYO...if Satan bathes, he uses mayo for soap). These are not the people I am addressing. PPP's are people who think that they deserve the GREATEST veggies on Earth...veggies that grow in the buttcrack of sunshine. I NEVER put pickle or banana pepper butts onto subs, I always toss brown lettuce, and I never use a green tomato...so DON'T YOU DARE criticize the vegetables I do use.
So the most Picky, Picky Princess of them all came in tonight; she is a frequent customer, so I thought I was prepared. Well it turns out she was deemed the Queen of Pickiness before she came in, so she was in rare form tonight. "Your tomatoes look skinny; I think you should get out different ones." "You really skimp on the onions." "Keep the sub on the paper, so I get the vegetables that you dropped off my sub."
OKAY!! First of all, SOMEONE HAS TO GET THE SKINNY TOMATOES!! And sorry mam, today it's you..They taste EXACTLY the same. I'll give you 6 instead of 5..RELAX!! O my bad, I forgot the 11th Commandment was, "Thou shalt not put skinny tomatoes on a sub."
Secondly, I did not SKIMP on your onions. I put the amount I was supposed to! If you would have said "EXTRA", it would have been skimpy. BUT NOOOOO, you were so busy worrying about the "skinny tomatoes" that you forgot to say "EXTRA." "O, OK, you want more onions...HERE is enough onions to fill the void in your heart that causes you to come in and terrorize me!"
Thirdly, if you would have just let me put the "skinny tomatoes" on...your other veggies wouldn't have fallen off :)
I am more than willing to make your sub eating experience comparable to the joy you will feel on your wedding day, but it kind of tickles my pickles when you try to tell me how to do my job. I am the certified sandwich artist..you, Picky Picky Princesses, are simply tomato hating, onion judging, stingymonsters. So if you think I'm being stingy, buy a pig, grow a garden, kill the pig, pick the veggies, watch Jeopardy (that's just a good show), milk a cow full of honey mustard (they make those you know?), mug Aunt Millie, and MAKE YOUR OWN SUB!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Monday, August 2, 2010
Jenny...The Becoming of a Woman
Friends, Relatives, Kidney Stones, and Colin,
Good news...Jenny is now wearing a bra! Why is this good news you ask...well, it means that I have an eye patch in case I sustain a serious eye injury at home or want to dress up as a pirate for Halloween. It basically looks like two Mcdonalds napkins held together by floss. If I wore it, I would have two black eyes and ten times less dignity, but it's really special to her. It also gives me one more object to grab on to when she is about to get hit by a car in the parking lot of Kroger...I think it really hurts her when I grab her ponytail.
I don't know if I have ever told you, but I LOVE SWEET POTATOES..tos..toes..who knows? I love them for a variety of reasons...1) they are orange..orange vegetables are like little bits of sunshine (I love carrots too!)...2) they are cheap. ONE DOLLAR with my KROGER PLUS CARD!!...3) my brother hates them...so I know they will always be waiting patiently for me on the counter and 4) I CAN SALT THEM. I have developed this odd obsession with salt lately. I literally have a salt shaker in my room....I keep it in my chair. It fell down the cushion yesterday, and I had a small panic attack because I thought it was gone forever. I salt my potatoes..I salt my lean pockets..I salt my grilled cheese...I salt my pajamas...hell I salt my extra salted popcorn! It's probably unhealthy, but so is smoking..and I don't smoke..so I have the slack to salt my salt!
I am entering my last two weeks of Subway...at least of fairly constant work at Subway. For those of you who haven't had a small bite of Heaven, you may want to stop by before the thirteenth (my last day). For those of you who won't be able to stop by or don't live close enough to come to my Subway, I would like to give you rules that you must always hold your sandwich artist to:
1) The cheese slices are friends, not lovers. They should be close to each other...but not so close they overlap. There is NO NEED for an extra cheesy bite in the middle, but no cheese at the ends.
2) For those of you who are vegetarians, the lettuce IS THE MEAT of our subs. That means 2 tablespoons of lettuce does NOT cut it...demand what you deserve!!
3) Jalapenos should NEVER be stacked. Who wants their bumwhole to burn when they digest a double jalapenoed bite?
4) Sauce should be distributed from end to end. Lazy stripes mean bland bites. GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT!! MAYO!!
and most importantly.............
5) Extra means extra. If the artist puts too much on, you can always pick it off. However, very few people have a head of lettuce in their pocket to add more if there is not enough (I carry beets, not lettuce).
Just remember..you are paying 5 dollars...you deserve nothing less than the best.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Good news...Jenny is now wearing a bra! Why is this good news you ask...well, it means that I have an eye patch in case I sustain a serious eye injury at home or want to dress up as a pirate for Halloween. It basically looks like two Mcdonalds napkins held together by floss. If I wore it, I would have two black eyes and ten times less dignity, but it's really special to her. It also gives me one more object to grab on to when she is about to get hit by a car in the parking lot of Kroger...I think it really hurts her when I grab her ponytail.
I don't know if I have ever told you, but I LOVE SWEET POTATOES..tos..toes..who knows? I love them for a variety of reasons...1) they are orange..orange vegetables are like little bits of sunshine (I love carrots too!)...2) they are cheap. ONE DOLLAR with my KROGER PLUS CARD!!...3) my brother hates them...so I know they will always be waiting patiently for me on the counter and 4) I CAN SALT THEM. I have developed this odd obsession with salt lately. I literally have a salt shaker in my room....I keep it in my chair. It fell down the cushion yesterday, and I had a small panic attack because I thought it was gone forever. I salt my potatoes..I salt my lean pockets..I salt my grilled cheese...I salt my pajamas...hell I salt my extra salted popcorn! It's probably unhealthy, but so is smoking..and I don't smoke..so I have the slack to salt my salt!
I am entering my last two weeks of Subway...at least of fairly constant work at Subway. For those of you who haven't had a small bite of Heaven, you may want to stop by before the thirteenth (my last day). For those of you who won't be able to stop by or don't live close enough to come to my Subway, I would like to give you rules that you must always hold your sandwich artist to:
1) The cheese slices are friends, not lovers. They should be close to each other...but not so close they overlap. There is NO NEED for an extra cheesy bite in the middle, but no cheese at the ends.
2) For those of you who are vegetarians, the lettuce IS THE MEAT of our subs. That means 2 tablespoons of lettuce does NOT cut it...demand what you deserve!!
3) Jalapenos should NEVER be stacked. Who wants their bumwhole to burn when they digest a double jalapenoed bite?
4) Sauce should be distributed from end to end. Lazy stripes mean bland bites. GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT!! MAYO!!
and most importantly.............
5) Extra means extra. If the artist puts too much on, you can always pick it off. However, very few people have a head of lettuce in their pocket to add more if there is not enough (I carry beets, not lettuce).
Just remember..you are paying 5 dollars...you deserve nothing less than the best.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Everyone who is not ME, KERRI, BRENDA, or...DANIELLE..i think..are NOT champions!
Hello NON champions,
Today, I put my basketball shoes back on. It was liberating. Basketball and I have an odd relationship. We broke up around October, but I am still madly in love with it. However, it hurts me. It hurts my joints and my schedule...so we just can't make it work. BUT, I still get to do Gus Mackers sooooo we're kind of "friends with benefits" you could say.
Anyways...we played in a Gus Macker today. We being Kerri Imwalle, a friend from high school, Brenda, and Danielle (2 of Kerri's friends..I didn't know their names til the third game). For those of you who don't know what Gus Mackers are, I will give a brief explanation. They are basketball tournaments where all bets are off basically. No blood, no foul...unless you call it. Which when it comes to women, becomes the SCARIEST part of the tournament. Men are all like, "ME MAN. ME HAVE PRIDE. ME NO CALL FOULS!" Women are like, "I am a civilized individual and this girl just graced my nipple..FOUL!"
We played four games. The first game was against a bunch of fairly older women. I think half of them were going through menopause. Not because they looked old, but because they were CRANKY! O but we beat them...then they went back to the nursing home...KIDDING..I think they were just getting lunch. The next team turned the crankiness up 500. Think of your mom in the morning..now picture yourself dropping your whole box of Honey Bunches of Oats on the floor...now think of your mom coming down stairs into the kitchen just in time to see you sweeping all the cereal into the basement because you're too lazy to get the dust pan out...that's how cranky this team was. Not only were they cranky, but they were TATT TATT TATTED UP! I'm glad I made it out alive...and with a victory.
The third team was a breath of fresh air. They had school buses on their shirts...I think I missed the joke. This game was AMAZING because it was POURING down rain. As a matter of fact, I was knocked into a giant puddle at one point, and I began to yell, "BEACHED WHALE! BEACHED WHALE!" And did I mention...these girls were sophomores in high school? No one signed up for their age bracket...so they got the priveledge of being spanked by our awesomeness.
The only fun thing about the last team...we beat them. They were tattooless...normal looking...no anger management issues..they all had hair long enough for ponytails...and they were our age...BORING. But we won..OOO..and we got the sportsmanship award. I think that was because I didn't punch the 45 year old woman in the face after she ripped off 3/4 of the skin on my right arm.
At Subway the other day, a man asked for a breakfast sub. I responded, "Would you like me to put egg white or egg whole on it?" He heard, "Would you like egg whites or my 'A' hole on it?" Even though he asked...my 'A' whole was not put on his sub.
O..and at the Dollar Tree yesterday...I was asked if I was a boy or a girl by a NOT CUTE child...I'm a girl...in case you guys were confused.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Today, I put my basketball shoes back on. It was liberating. Basketball and I have an odd relationship. We broke up around October, but I am still madly in love with it. However, it hurts me. It hurts my joints and my schedule...so we just can't make it work. BUT, I still get to do Gus Mackers sooooo we're kind of "friends with benefits" you could say.
Anyways...we played in a Gus Macker today. We being Kerri Imwalle, a friend from high school, Brenda, and Danielle (2 of Kerri's friends..I didn't know their names til the third game). For those of you who don't know what Gus Mackers are, I will give a brief explanation. They are basketball tournaments where all bets are off basically. No blood, no foul...unless you call it. Which when it comes to women, becomes the SCARIEST part of the tournament. Men are all like, "ME MAN. ME HAVE PRIDE. ME NO CALL FOULS!" Women are like, "I am a civilized individual and this girl just graced my nipple..FOUL!"
We played four games. The first game was against a bunch of fairly older women. I think half of them were going through menopause. Not because they looked old, but because they were CRANKY! O but we beat them...then they went back to the nursing home...KIDDING..I think they were just getting lunch. The next team turned the crankiness up 500. Think of your mom in the morning..now picture yourself dropping your whole box of Honey Bunches of Oats on the floor...now think of your mom coming down stairs into the kitchen just in time to see you sweeping all the cereal into the basement because you're too lazy to get the dust pan out...that's how cranky this team was. Not only were they cranky, but they were TATT TATT TATTED UP! I'm glad I made it out alive...and with a victory.
The third team was a breath of fresh air. They had school buses on their shirts...I think I missed the joke. This game was AMAZING because it was POURING down rain. As a matter of fact, I was knocked into a giant puddle at one point, and I began to yell, "BEACHED WHALE! BEACHED WHALE!" And did I mention...these girls were sophomores in high school? No one signed up for their age bracket...so they got the priveledge of being spanked by our awesomeness.
The only fun thing about the last team...we beat them. They were tattooless...normal looking...no anger management issues..they all had hair long enough for ponytails...and they were our age...BORING. But we won..OOO..and we got the sportsmanship award. I think that was because I didn't punch the 45 year old woman in the face after she ripped off 3/4 of the skin on my right arm.
At Subway the other day, a man asked for a breakfast sub. I responded, "Would you like me to put egg white or egg whole on it?" He heard, "Would you like egg whites or my 'A' hole on it?" Even though he asked...my 'A' whole was not put on his sub.
O..and at the Dollar Tree yesterday...I was asked if I was a boy or a girl by a NOT CUTE child...I'm a girl...in case you guys were confused.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Sunday, July 25, 2010
"He will probably die a lonely man" THE Jenny Shellabarger
O hey guys!
Soooo today was absolutely splendid. First of all, I need to tell you that Moccasin (my fish) is currently doing the electric slide in his tank. I'm not joking...I think he is hungry. Anyways, I didn't work today which is much more depressing than it sounds. You see, I have found my place in this world. Subway, yes Subway, is my place in this world. I am surrounded by vegetables (and some meat..BLAHHH can't have everything) and cookies. I can talk to myself as a please, and I get to make children both happy and healthy (well except for the little girl who wants a footlong white bread with marinara and mayo..God Bless America).
We went to grandma's today. Grandma is my hero. We made her supper, and I went grocery shopping for her. Aside from her chronic pain and her bladder that is as unreliable as my dad's car (the trunk is held shut by a bungee cord..the car's trunk, not grandma's...grandma's is held shut with an adult diaper), she makes me want to get old. Why do you ask? Well, one look at her shopping list will tell us. Here it is folks, word for word:
1) 2 Plums
2) All Beef Hotdogs (MUST BE ALL BEEF)
3) Cookies
4) Gravy (the microwave kind from Bob Evans)
QUICK SIDENOTE: SWINGERS ON TLC...WAAAHOOOOOOOOOO!!!
5) Red Baron Single Slice Pizza
6) Cookies
7) Trashbags
8) Potato Skin Chips
That, my friends, will last her for a week. And yes, we did buy 2 boxes of cookies (1 oreo 1 Pecan Shortbread). Do you see any vegetables (2 plums..all week!), any bread, and ANY NUTRITIOUS FOOD AT ALL?!?! This is the woman who also has 36 Milky Ways in her fridge...hello menopause..I'm ready when you are!
When we returned, my sister had her rollerblades on. Grandma had given her the beautiful suggestion that we should let her hold a string and be pulled by her $1000 Hover Round that had never been used. I jumped at the oppurtunity. Picture this..I am sitting in a Hover Round (which is obviously set at the fastest setting) pulling my sister who is holding on to a piece of yellow yarn tied to the chair. She was having a blast and giggling like a toddler with a kitten............until I decided to off-road. I not only drove the Hover Round through grandma's backyard, but I decided to drive it through the alley as well (the alley that is full of stones...the kryptonite to roller blades).
Grandma knew she was going to have to pee in like a half hour, so we decided it was time to start heading in (we were in her driveway). While grandma was relieving herself, Eric, Jenny, and I decided to gang up on dad. It started with Eric pulling dad's arm hairs (one of my favorite past times). Then, I performed Nipple Annhilation (a titty twister from hell). Dad, however, countered that with a painful snake bite (don't call children's services..he's not that strong), and while he was distracted, Eric went for the grand finale. AN ATOMIC WEDGIE. Just to add insult to injury, I gave dad a Wet Willy while he was trying to make his bum and underwear 2 seperate items again. All the while, grandma was yelling at us to "quick pickin on your dad. he's a nice man." Thanks grandma.....but you take a snake bit from him and tell me how you feel!
I decided I wanted to go to clown school today. It's a 30 week course and costs $1500, so I am going to have to make a decision...Grad school..or clown school...opinions would be appreciated. However, I was trying to find my clown niche today, and I discovered one of the most exciting things to do. It was more fun than jump roping on a rainbow (I've done it). I decided that maybe I should juggle cotton balls as a clown...really..I was taking a poo on the toilet and was curious if I could juggle cotton balls...cotton balls are kind of light though, so I got it wet to see it that would make it easier. Instead of juggling them, I decided to chuck them at the shower wall. OMGshness....Go to your bathroom right now and throw wet cotton balls at the shower wall. You can thank me later.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Soooo today was absolutely splendid. First of all, I need to tell you that Moccasin (my fish) is currently doing the electric slide in his tank. I'm not joking...I think he is hungry. Anyways, I didn't work today which is much more depressing than it sounds. You see, I have found my place in this world. Subway, yes Subway, is my place in this world. I am surrounded by vegetables (and some meat..BLAHHH can't have everything) and cookies. I can talk to myself as a please, and I get to make children both happy and healthy (well except for the little girl who wants a footlong white bread with marinara and mayo..God Bless America).
We went to grandma's today. Grandma is my hero. We made her supper, and I went grocery shopping for her. Aside from her chronic pain and her bladder that is as unreliable as my dad's car (the trunk is held shut by a bungee cord..the car's trunk, not grandma's...grandma's is held shut with an adult diaper), she makes me want to get old. Why do you ask? Well, one look at her shopping list will tell us. Here it is folks, word for word:
1) 2 Plums
2) All Beef Hotdogs (MUST BE ALL BEEF)
3) Cookies
4) Gravy (the microwave kind from Bob Evans)
QUICK SIDENOTE: SWINGERS ON TLC...WAAAHOOOOOOOOOO!!!
5) Red Baron Single Slice Pizza
6) Cookies
7) Trashbags
8) Potato Skin Chips
That, my friends, will last her for a week. And yes, we did buy 2 boxes of cookies (1 oreo 1 Pecan Shortbread). Do you see any vegetables (2 plums..all week!), any bread, and ANY NUTRITIOUS FOOD AT ALL?!?! This is the woman who also has 36 Milky Ways in her fridge...hello menopause..I'm ready when you are!
When we returned, my sister had her rollerblades on. Grandma had given her the beautiful suggestion that we should let her hold a string and be pulled by her $1000 Hover Round that had never been used. I jumped at the oppurtunity. Picture this..I am sitting in a Hover Round (which is obviously set at the fastest setting) pulling my sister who is holding on to a piece of yellow yarn tied to the chair. She was having a blast and giggling like a toddler with a kitten............until I decided to off-road. I not only drove the Hover Round through grandma's backyard, but I decided to drive it through the alley as well (the alley that is full of stones...the kryptonite to roller blades).
Grandma knew she was going to have to pee in like a half hour, so we decided it was time to start heading in (we were in her driveway). While grandma was relieving herself, Eric, Jenny, and I decided to gang up on dad. It started with Eric pulling dad's arm hairs (one of my favorite past times). Then, I performed Nipple Annhilation (a titty twister from hell). Dad, however, countered that with a painful snake bite (don't call children's services..he's not that strong), and while he was distracted, Eric went for the grand finale. AN ATOMIC WEDGIE. Just to add insult to injury, I gave dad a Wet Willy while he was trying to make his bum and underwear 2 seperate items again. All the while, grandma was yelling at us to "quick pickin on your dad. he's a nice man." Thanks grandma.....but you take a snake bit from him and tell me how you feel!
I decided I wanted to go to clown school today. It's a 30 week course and costs $1500, so I am going to have to make a decision...Grad school..or clown school...opinions would be appreciated. However, I was trying to find my clown niche today, and I discovered one of the most exciting things to do. It was more fun than jump roping on a rainbow (I've done it). I decided that maybe I should juggle cotton balls as a clown...really..I was taking a poo on the toilet and was curious if I could juggle cotton balls...cotton balls are kind of light though, so I got it wet to see it that would make it easier. Instead of juggling them, I decided to chuck them at the shower wall. OMGshness....Go to your bathroom right now and throw wet cotton balls at the shower wall. You can thank me later.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Life's About Finishing A Box of Jujyfruits at 11:30 PM
hi, o hey, wassup, HOLLA,
What are you doing here? I'm just reading a blog; what are YOU doing here? I'm writing a blog; no one asked you to come. Why wasn't I invited?
Gosh, I wish I was schizophrenic. Now before you go thinking, "That's horrible! Some people are actually schizophrenic and would love to be like you," let me finish. I wish I was schizophrenic for your sake. You see, I feel like when Emily was getting annoying...Tina and Marge (the other 2 personalities) would make sure she knew. Therefore, you would have all the entertainment of Emily minus the excessive elements that get annoying. Perfect right? Now does anyone know where I can get schizophrenia?
Anyways, in terms of real life, today was SLOOOOOWWWWW, slow like Queen Latifah on a moped. I woke up at 7:30 because I have "I can't sleep past 8 syndrome." I ate 1 cup of Honey Bunches of Oats (I have a complex), and I checked all the important sites (facebook, aol, my email, shirt.woot.com, and teefury). Once I realized no one was engaged (facebook), Lindsay Lohan made it through her strip search in jail (aol), Coldstone has 3 new summer flavors (my email), and I won't be getting a new shirt in 2 weeks (shirt.woot and teefury), I realized there is no purpose whatsoever to being awake. So, I cheated my syndrome and WENT BACK TO BED at 8:30. I dreamt i was on a soccer team with Colin and Kelly Ripa (Regis and Kelly was on TV when I woke up) and drooled all over my pillow....I either have a crush on Colin or Kelly Ripa (or maybe both).
In the afternoon, I got a Pecan Pie Blizzard. If angels can poop, I'm sure they poop out Pecan Pie Blizzards. If angels can't poop, I feel really sorry for them because a good poop can really make your day. Anyways, this blizzard was vanilla ice cream mixed with caramel sauce. That, my friends, is perfection in itself. The Dairy Queen employer (who should be knighted because this was so delicious) then puts pecans and little pieces of graham cracker crust into the frozen mass of caramel delight. So I ate this blizzard, then sat in my huge pile of guilt on the way home..HELLO FUPA...here I come!!
Colin and I went to a Locos game tonight. Lima, Ohio, is such a beautiful place. I saw a man wearing a baseball helmet (he was 65 and NOT on the team), a very boisterous man with a very fluffy beard and a bucket o' beer, and a woman who claimed to be selling $0.50 ice cream from her van that continuously played the "OOMPA LOOMPA" song. God Bless America.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
What are you doing here? I'm just reading a blog; what are YOU doing here? I'm writing a blog; no one asked you to come. Why wasn't I invited?
Gosh, I wish I was schizophrenic. Now before you go thinking, "That's horrible! Some people are actually schizophrenic and would love to be like you," let me finish. I wish I was schizophrenic for your sake. You see, I feel like when Emily was getting annoying...Tina and Marge (the other 2 personalities) would make sure she knew. Therefore, you would have all the entertainment of Emily minus the excessive elements that get annoying. Perfect right? Now does anyone know where I can get schizophrenia?
Anyways, in terms of real life, today was SLOOOOOWWWWW, slow like Queen Latifah on a moped. I woke up at 7:30 because I have "I can't sleep past 8 syndrome." I ate 1 cup of Honey Bunches of Oats (I have a complex), and I checked all the important sites (facebook, aol, my email, shirt.woot.com, and teefury). Once I realized no one was engaged (facebook), Lindsay Lohan made it through her strip search in jail (aol), Coldstone has 3 new summer flavors (my email), and I won't be getting a new shirt in 2 weeks (shirt.woot and teefury), I realized there is no purpose whatsoever to being awake. So, I cheated my syndrome and WENT BACK TO BED at 8:30. I dreamt i was on a soccer team with Colin and Kelly Ripa (Regis and Kelly was on TV when I woke up) and drooled all over my pillow....I either have a crush on Colin or Kelly Ripa (or maybe both).
In the afternoon, I got a Pecan Pie Blizzard. If angels can poop, I'm sure they poop out Pecan Pie Blizzards. If angels can't poop, I feel really sorry for them because a good poop can really make your day. Anyways, this blizzard was vanilla ice cream mixed with caramel sauce. That, my friends, is perfection in itself. The Dairy Queen employer (who should be knighted because this was so delicious) then puts pecans and little pieces of graham cracker crust into the frozen mass of caramel delight. So I ate this blizzard, then sat in my huge pile of guilt on the way home..HELLO FUPA...here I come!!
Colin and I went to a Locos game tonight. Lima, Ohio, is such a beautiful place. I saw a man wearing a baseball helmet (he was 65 and NOT on the team), a very boisterous man with a very fluffy beard and a bucket o' beer, and a woman who claimed to be selling $0.50 ice cream from her van that continuously played the "OOMPA LOOMPA" song. God Bless America.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
"I love these things."
Mammals who are capable of reading,
ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!!! I'm blogging. You know what? I can't keep a bloody promise to save my life, so NO MORE PROMISES!
Anyways, I have been exceptionally busy this summer. I love me some sub making, so that really takes up the majority of my time. The good news for you..sub making creates quite entertaining stories. I have come to be what you may call "A Sub Master." This means I construct subs of excellence and beauty. However, like Tiger Woods and BP, I mess up occassionally. The good news is...people can only find out about my screw ups through my blog instead of Good Morning America and The New York Times.
Yesterday, Sarah and I were painfully busy...like busier than the showers in the ladies locker room at the Y after water aerobics. Therefore, we ran out of white bread. We had also been out of the new italian sausage for a few days because it was such a hot seller. A man came in and wanted italian bread. After we crushed his spirits by telling him we were out of his "normal bread," he asked for the italian sausage. "EXCUSE ME SIR..could you be more difficult?!?!" I thought he was going to shed a few tears, but he finally decided upon tuna......about that...Sarah says, "Emily, can you get me some tuna?" "Sure Sarah, I'll just grab it out of the...." TINA TURNER! There is none prepared in the cooler.
HAVE NO FEAR..EMILY THE SUB MASTER IS HERE...I decide this is my moment to shine. I dive into the cooler and grab the tuna pouch. I then proceed to frantically cover it in mayo, glove my hands, and delve my fingers into the gooey mass. In my intense tuna mixing, I seemed to cover the wall, the table, my face, the pens, my apron, and even the calculator in tuna. The kitchen looked like someone threw the Little Mermaid and a bunch of mayo into a blender without a lid. As sweat dripped from my brow and I grabbed a small container to rush the tuna of excellence to the front, I hear Sarah wrapping the sub......."O..sorry Emily...I made the tuna we had in the front work when I heard you grabbing all the stuff to make it." "That's fine Sarah, but you can come to my house tonight and wash the tuna from my hair and sports bra."
I do love my Subway though, and I have started to develop "The Subway/English Dictionary," which translates customer requests into real English..here are a few I have so far:
-"Brown Bread": Wheat Bread
-"Spicy Hot Cheese": Pepperjack cheese
-"9 Grain White Cheese Bread": I have never been to Subway before so I won't even notice what kind of bread you give me
-"Red Sauce": Marinara sauce (NOT HOT SAUCE..they will come back in 10 minutes later with a sub with 1 bite taken out of it to remind you of this)
-"Purple Pepper": Red Onions and Peppers
-"Dem Peppers that aint gonna make my eyes water": Banana peppers
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!!! I'm blogging. You know what? I can't keep a bloody promise to save my life, so NO MORE PROMISES!
Anyways, I have been exceptionally busy this summer. I love me some sub making, so that really takes up the majority of my time. The good news for you..sub making creates quite entertaining stories. I have come to be what you may call "A Sub Master." This means I construct subs of excellence and beauty. However, like Tiger Woods and BP, I mess up occassionally. The good news is...people can only find out about my screw ups through my blog instead of Good Morning America and The New York Times.
Yesterday, Sarah and I were painfully busy...like busier than the showers in the ladies locker room at the Y after water aerobics. Therefore, we ran out of white bread. We had also been out of the new italian sausage for a few days because it was such a hot seller. A man came in and wanted italian bread. After we crushed his spirits by telling him we were out of his "normal bread," he asked for the italian sausage. "EXCUSE ME SIR..could you be more difficult?!?!" I thought he was going to shed a few tears, but he finally decided upon tuna......about that...Sarah says, "Emily, can you get me some tuna?" "Sure Sarah, I'll just grab it out of the...." TINA TURNER! There is none prepared in the cooler.
HAVE NO FEAR..EMILY THE SUB MASTER IS HERE...I decide this is my moment to shine. I dive into the cooler and grab the tuna pouch. I then proceed to frantically cover it in mayo, glove my hands, and delve my fingers into the gooey mass. In my intense tuna mixing, I seemed to cover the wall, the table, my face, the pens, my apron, and even the calculator in tuna. The kitchen looked like someone threw the Little Mermaid and a bunch of mayo into a blender without a lid. As sweat dripped from my brow and I grabbed a small container to rush the tuna of excellence to the front, I hear Sarah wrapping the sub......."O..sorry Emily...I made the tuna we had in the front work when I heard you grabbing all the stuff to make it." "That's fine Sarah, but you can come to my house tonight and wash the tuna from my hair and sports bra."
I do love my Subway though, and I have started to develop "The Subway/English Dictionary," which translates customer requests into real English..here are a few I have so far:
-"Brown Bread": Wheat Bread
-"Spicy Hot Cheese": Pepperjack cheese
-"9 Grain White Cheese Bread": I have never been to Subway before so I won't even notice what kind of bread you give me
-"Red Sauce": Marinara sauce (NOT HOT SAUCE..they will come back in 10 minutes later with a sub with 1 bite taken out of it to remind you of this)
-"Purple Pepper": Red Onions and Peppers
-"Dem Peppers that aint gonna make my eyes water": Banana peppers
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Sunday, July 4, 2010
My Middle Name is "WORSTBLOGGEREVER"
Hello,
I suck. If sucking were a sport, I would have the gold medal at the Olympics. If sucking were legs, I would get a lot of funny looks because I would have like 304982039483 legs. I suck because I didn't blog for a gazillion years. I can't make excuses; I have just been so busy and tired. But I'm back, and I'M SO SORRY FOR SUCKING!
Anyways, I have some very interesting events coming in my life. Well, possible events. You see I emailed a woman approximately like 2 months ago about doing an open mic night at a comedy club. Well, I am apparently lower than clipping your toenails on her list of priorities because she just got back to me yesterday. She said I could come on Sunday July 25th, but I needed at least five guests. HMMM? I REALLY want to do it because I want to hold myself accountable to my goals and "dreams"..BAH! dreams! laugh...everyone always laughs at other peoples' dreams. I don't know..maybe I'll try. I'll keep you updated..unless I fail...then I will pretend like it never happened and join the convent and move to Indonesia and make lanyards for people who don't even have anything to put on them..it's a win win situation.
More exciting events...my giant cousin is getting married this weekend. And when I say giant, it's not a lie. He is six ten...as in if you took two Gary Coleman's and stacked two infants on top of them...they would be up to AJ's nipples! Anyways..he is marrying a beautiful, wonderful woman, and I am so very happy for them for two reasons 1) she is tall too...there is NOTHING more annoying than short women who steal tall men! There should be a law that you can only be 3 inches shorter than your date/husband/significant other..MAX...so us tall women don't have to go to prom with men who are 5'6''..you were a great date though ED!! and 2)Because of their marriage, I get to stay the night in a hotel room with my nine year old sister and eighty nine year old grandma. Yep, we're getting drunk....KIDDING!!! I just hope neither wets the bed.
STARS AND STRIPES FOREVER!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
I suck. If sucking were a sport, I would have the gold medal at the Olympics. If sucking were legs, I would get a lot of funny looks because I would have like 304982039483 legs. I suck because I didn't blog for a gazillion years. I can't make excuses; I have just been so busy and tired. But I'm back, and I'M SO SORRY FOR SUCKING!
Anyways, I have some very interesting events coming in my life. Well, possible events. You see I emailed a woman approximately like 2 months ago about doing an open mic night at a comedy club. Well, I am apparently lower than clipping your toenails on her list of priorities because she just got back to me yesterday. She said I could come on Sunday July 25th, but I needed at least five guests. HMMM? I REALLY want to do it because I want to hold myself accountable to my goals and "dreams"..BAH! dreams! laugh...everyone always laughs at other peoples' dreams. I don't know..maybe I'll try. I'll keep you updated..unless I fail...then I will pretend like it never happened and join the convent and move to Indonesia and make lanyards for people who don't even have anything to put on them..it's a win win situation.
More exciting events...my giant cousin is getting married this weekend. And when I say giant, it's not a lie. He is six ten...as in if you took two Gary Coleman's and stacked two infants on top of them...they would be up to AJ's nipples! Anyways..he is marrying a beautiful, wonderful woman, and I am so very happy for them for two reasons 1) she is tall too...there is NOTHING more annoying than short women who steal tall men! There should be a law that you can only be 3 inches shorter than your date/husband/significant other..MAX...so us tall women don't have to go to prom with men who are 5'6''..you were a great date though ED!! and 2)Because of their marriage, I get to stay the night in a hotel room with my nine year old sister and eighty nine year old grandma. Yep, we're getting drunk....KIDDING!!! I just hope neither wets the bed.
STARS AND STRIPES FOREVER!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
I Think I Made Someone Pretty Important Pretty Angry With The Way Things Have Been Going
o hey,
I can hear the wind raging outside (I'm sure that our windchimes may have just impaled a small bird that was flying to safety), my dogs are crying like a child on his first day of kindegarten, and my boyfriend is in his basement. I think I am the closest to death I have ever been. And death seems like it would fit right in with the luck I have been having this week. So, mom...you can have my collection of books about Native Americans. Jenny, you can have my stash of gumballs in my bottom dresser drawer. Eric, you can have all my trophies so you never forget how much better I was than you. And dad, you can have my neck, knee, and ankle braces along with my shoulder sling and my crutches as I know you will need them sometime in your life. O and Colin, you can have all my dirty clothes so you never forget what I smelled like (even though my later days, I have smelled like Subway) BUT IF I DON'T DIE...NO ONE BETTER TOUCH MY GUMBALL COLLECTION! (I will find a new hiding place!)
Anyways, blogs must go on..even when life is hanging in the balance. I hate my life. No I don't; I have just had a rough week. I will first start with the good news. I GOT A FISH!!! I named him Moccasin, and he is ugly. But he is my fish, and I love him. Why did I name him Moccasin? Well, it's just sort of the first thing I thought of.
Other than the new addition to it, my life has been pretty, dare I say, AWFUL! Let me make it clear, I love EVERYONE in my life that makes it ever so amazing. I know I am very blessed with everything I have, but it's just been one of those weeks. Let me start with yesterday. Have you ever had a toilet in a Subway overflow all over your shoes? O yea..HOW BOUT TWICE?!?! Words of wisdom...if anyone ever tells you, "Alright...Flush, then plunge, then flush," DON'T LISTEN. For if you do, you will have a squeegee in your hand and you will be chasing 2 inches of water back into the women's bathroom so your customers won't know anything is wrong while you spend an hour and a half using a mop to sop up the mess. God Bless America!
My next adventure in my blissful fast food life involved me ruining 60 dollars worth of meat, cheese, and salad. I don't know how the cold bar got turned off last night, but it did. How does this 60 dollars become accounted for? O you know..me and the girl I was working with have to pay for it. "Hi, my name is Emily, and I thought I was broke. Then I ruined 60 bucks worth of cold meat, and I realized that I am now not only broke, but I am not the Subway worker I thought I was." O but don't worry, if you thought that was the worst of it, you're wrong! All the ruined meat had to be thrown away. Well, whoever threw it away put it all in the same trashbag and then put the rest of the day's garbage on top. Therefore when I went to take the trash out around 8pm....let's just say I thought there was a baby hippo in the trashbag. The trashbag then busted open in the grass, and I spent a half an hour picking room temperature meat (which oddly feels kind of neat), plastic gloves, TUNA SALAD, coffee grounds, and other things that may have been delicious in a different condition out of the grass by the dumpster. Picture this..a giant woman in a Subway uniform picking up cheese from the grass while she gagged and cursed and attempted to hold the trash bag down in 20 mph winds. Laugh..it's ok.
Now that I am done complainging...I'M GOING TO SLEEP!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
I can hear the wind raging outside (I'm sure that our windchimes may have just impaled a small bird that was flying to safety), my dogs are crying like a child on his first day of kindegarten, and my boyfriend is in his basement. I think I am the closest to death I have ever been. And death seems like it would fit right in with the luck I have been having this week. So, mom...you can have my collection of books about Native Americans. Jenny, you can have my stash of gumballs in my bottom dresser drawer. Eric, you can have all my trophies so you never forget how much better I was than you. And dad, you can have my neck, knee, and ankle braces along with my shoulder sling and my crutches as I know you will need them sometime in your life. O and Colin, you can have all my dirty clothes so you never forget what I smelled like (even though my later days, I have smelled like Subway) BUT IF I DON'T DIE...NO ONE BETTER TOUCH MY GUMBALL COLLECTION! (I will find a new hiding place!)
Anyways, blogs must go on..even when life is hanging in the balance. I hate my life. No I don't; I have just had a rough week. I will first start with the good news. I GOT A FISH!!! I named him Moccasin, and he is ugly. But he is my fish, and I love him. Why did I name him Moccasin? Well, it's just sort of the first thing I thought of.
Other than the new addition to it, my life has been pretty, dare I say, AWFUL! Let me make it clear, I love EVERYONE in my life that makes it ever so amazing. I know I am very blessed with everything I have, but it's just been one of those weeks. Let me start with yesterday. Have you ever had a toilet in a Subway overflow all over your shoes? O yea..HOW BOUT TWICE?!?! Words of wisdom...if anyone ever tells you, "Alright...Flush, then plunge, then flush," DON'T LISTEN. For if you do, you will have a squeegee in your hand and you will be chasing 2 inches of water back into the women's bathroom so your customers won't know anything is wrong while you spend an hour and a half using a mop to sop up the mess. God Bless America!
My next adventure in my blissful fast food life involved me ruining 60 dollars worth of meat, cheese, and salad. I don't know how the cold bar got turned off last night, but it did. How does this 60 dollars become accounted for? O you know..me and the girl I was working with have to pay for it. "Hi, my name is Emily, and I thought I was broke. Then I ruined 60 bucks worth of cold meat, and I realized that I am now not only broke, but I am not the Subway worker I thought I was." O but don't worry, if you thought that was the worst of it, you're wrong! All the ruined meat had to be thrown away. Well, whoever threw it away put it all in the same trashbag and then put the rest of the day's garbage on top. Therefore when I went to take the trash out around 8pm....let's just say I thought there was a baby hippo in the trashbag. The trashbag then busted open in the grass, and I spent a half an hour picking room temperature meat (which oddly feels kind of neat), plastic gloves, TUNA SALAD, coffee grounds, and other things that may have been delicious in a different condition out of the grass by the dumpster. Picture this..a giant woman in a Subway uniform picking up cheese from the grass while she gagged and cursed and attempted to hold the trash bag down in 20 mph winds. Laugh..it's ok.
Now that I am done complainging...I'M GOING TO SLEEP!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Monday, June 21, 2010
I Could Really Go For A Tall Glass Of Beer With About Eight Olives In It
pffffffff what in tarnations are you doing here?!
I didn't blog for 2 days again. I didn't blog because, on Saturday, a starving child from Malaysia came to my door holding a puppy whose eyes had been infected by rabid squirrels. While I was feeding the child a corndog and cleaning the puppies eyes with q-tips, my roof caved in, and I was forced to drag the child and the dog through the destruction until I made it safely to the road. Then, the three of us were hit by the ice cream truck. We got free ice cream, and it turns out the starving child just lived down the block and forgot to eat breakfast, and the dog had just gotten into some heavy pollen. But, now it's Monday, that was all a lie, and I am ready to blog again.
Well, today I was going to get back on to my healthy eating habit train again. You see, my boyfriend's birthday, father's day, and just loving food has seemed to make me start to get squishy again. So I woke up this morning and said to myself, "EMILY, you are going to give up ice cream for a week!" Ok -that lasted til around 4 pm. Then I said, "EMILY, you are going to give up chocolate for a week!" Alright - that lasted until I made myself some puppy chow. Food and I have a very interesting relationship..actually let's just say junk food. We're kind of like Romeo and Juliet...star crossed lovers. We only meet at night when no one can see us..I can eat just lovely all day..fruit..yogurt...hummus...vegetarian chicken...but once the sun goes down, OOO MAN...we go at it. "But soft! What scent through doorway does my nose smell? It is something to eat...and PUPPY CHOW is the sun!"
So I guess I'll plan to stick with the healthy eating tomorrow. Speaking of delicious food, I watched WWE Pay Per View at Buffalo Wild Wings last night. The people who come to these events are simply delightful. It almost looks like a trailer park vomited into the restaurant. I am by no means judging because guess who hasn't missed one since she started dating Colin? THIS GIRL...but that doesn't mean I can't get my giggles from it. One of my personal favorite people is, who I call, the Underfaker. For those of you who don't follow WWE wrestling, here is the real Undertaker...
It's ok..I'm scared too. Here, my friends..is how I perceive the Underfaker...
The Undertaker picks his teeth with items bigger than the Underfaker, but this man is relentless. He is what my hero, Dr. Phil, would call "FREAKING CRAZY!" God Bless America. And last night, he was extra CRAZY. He may or may not have taken some controlled substances before he came because he kept pacing around like a lion trying to find somewhere to drop a load. Then all of a sudden, he grabbed his knee and made a face that was mixture of pain, anger, and constipation. He proceeded to explain to anyone who would listen that a roof fell in on him 2 weeks ago. WHAT IN LINDSAY LOHAN'S NAME WAS HE DOING ON A ROOF?!?! I hope he's not dead right now because he is the most interesting person I have ever seen in my life.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Friday, June 18, 2010
I Can Balance On My Left Leg For 12.3 Seconds When There Is A Breeze From The Southeast
HI (I may or may not have just jammed my "I" key into my keyboard...I'm angry)
My name is Emily, and I am the queen boss of every Subway on the face of the Earth. Not only do I determine the rules for Subway, but I determine all the prices, and all the places that take Subway points as well. WAIT...I DO NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's play a game....it's called yell at a 19 year old girl who is just trying to work her summer job because YOU CAN'T READ A SIGN!! Congrats man with a giant tattoo on his ribcage..YOU WIN! Let me tell you, this man looked like he had been in the sun for about 309482 hours. I should have known he was going to be cranky. Secondly, he had this tattoo on his ribcage..I'm pretty sure it was the first chapter of Harry Potter or something; it was just a bunch of words. It could have also said, "I have never been happy with any Subway in my entire life, so you might as well just start crying now."
This man was also with a woman...a woman who obviously knew he was about to make my life Hades. She was very quiet, and she just tried to keep him from making me stick my head in the oven. He wants a turkey ham sub with chicken pieces. WTF!! This is NOT the White House kitchen, and you are NOT Barack Obama. You cannot have any kind of concoction you want! After he yelled at the other Emily, she gave in and we found a way to ring it up. They also got a buffalo chicken and another turkey ham...none of which are 5 dollar footlongs. The total $22.50. They pay, yell, and leave (in no particular order). We carry on with our other customers who appreciate what we do and here comes Cranky McSunburn yelling somemore. "WAS MY SUB 15 BUCKS?!?! I DONT EAT 15 DOLLAR SUBS!!" "Um..no sir..your sub was $9.50. I can get you a receipt.....here you go." "THIS IS AWFUL!!!"
Out storms my new favorite customer, whose head was steaming more than my fingers do when I accidently stick them into the meatballs, with the receipt in hand. Back to the wonderful woman with the beautiful newborn boy in her hands. DING DONG..."O shitake moo moo!" Now he has the subs in his hands, and he is stomping on the newborn...k the newborn thing is a lie...but I wouldn't put it past this man. "WERE THESE NOT 5 DOLLAR FOOT LONGS!?!?! I DONT WANT EM!!! GIVE ME MY MONEY" At this point, I am more defeated than an overweight fifth grader with no arms playing dodgeball. I give him his money. I lost.
It take a lot to make Emily Eileen angry. My friends, I was angry. Tell me that I ruined your life by making you pay for your subs...I didn't did I?..ok..just making sure.
For future reference....You have to pay for subs...just makin sure you guys understand that so you're never as confused as Cranky McSunburn.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
My name is Emily, and I am the queen boss of every Subway on the face of the Earth. Not only do I determine the rules for Subway, but I determine all the prices, and all the places that take Subway points as well. WAIT...I DO NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's play a game....it's called yell at a 19 year old girl who is just trying to work her summer job because YOU CAN'T READ A SIGN!! Congrats man with a giant tattoo on his ribcage..YOU WIN! Let me tell you, this man looked like he had been in the sun for about 309482 hours. I should have known he was going to be cranky. Secondly, he had this tattoo on his ribcage..I'm pretty sure it was the first chapter of Harry Potter or something; it was just a bunch of words. It could have also said, "I have never been happy with any Subway in my entire life, so you might as well just start crying now."
This man was also with a woman...a woman who obviously knew he was about to make my life Hades. She was very quiet, and she just tried to keep him from making me stick my head in the oven. He wants a turkey ham sub with chicken pieces. WTF!! This is NOT the White House kitchen, and you are NOT Barack Obama. You cannot have any kind of concoction you want! After he yelled at the other Emily, she gave in and we found a way to ring it up. They also got a buffalo chicken and another turkey ham...none of which are 5 dollar footlongs. The total $22.50. They pay, yell, and leave (in no particular order). We carry on with our other customers who appreciate what we do and here comes Cranky McSunburn yelling somemore. "WAS MY SUB 15 BUCKS?!?! I DONT EAT 15 DOLLAR SUBS!!" "Um..no sir..your sub was $9.50. I can get you a receipt.....here you go." "THIS IS AWFUL!!!"
Out storms my new favorite customer, whose head was steaming more than my fingers do when I accidently stick them into the meatballs, with the receipt in hand. Back to the wonderful woman with the beautiful newborn boy in her hands. DING DONG..."O shitake moo moo!" Now he has the subs in his hands, and he is stomping on the newborn...k the newborn thing is a lie...but I wouldn't put it past this man. "WERE THESE NOT 5 DOLLAR FOOT LONGS!?!?! I DONT WANT EM!!! GIVE ME MY MONEY" At this point, I am more defeated than an overweight fifth grader with no arms playing dodgeball. I give him his money. I lost.
It take a lot to make Emily Eileen angry. My friends, I was angry. Tell me that I ruined your life by making you pay for your subs...I didn't did I?..ok..just making sure.
For future reference....You have to pay for subs...just makin sure you guys understand that so you're never as confused as Cranky McSunburn.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Thursday, June 17, 2010
I Found A Mosquito In My Messy Bun...Am I A Skank?
Hello Friends,
I'm blogstipated. I didn't blog for too long...TOO LONG...I will apologize again, even though my apologies are worth about as much as 2 pesos in Donald Trump's buttcrack. Let's talk now. Wait..I will eat a bowl a cereal...then we will talk.
Anyways, I have no excuse for my lack of blogging. I have just been writing for the newspaper, reading about writing a novel, trying to write a novel, constructing subs of greatness, attempting to work out daily, and trying to build a giant Q-tip that can clog the hole that is spilling all that dang oil in the gulf, so I have been a tiny bit tired.
I want to talk to you today about flies on poop. I saw it, like legit, for the first time in my life yesterday. I have had dogs my whole life, but I have NEVER had a dog that could drop a load like Lily (who is a golden retriever/lab/something else that we don't know because her mom is the dog version of a Vegas prostitute..she gives favors for male dogs who bring her treats). KIDDING..BACK TO PG...So, I am walking out to my car, and I see the Mount Everest of Dog Poo sitting outside. First, I gagged. Then, I high fived Lily on the fact that she was still live because I honestly thought her digestive system had become a new lawn ornament. Then, I had an ephiphany. Flies on dog poop is the MOST DISGUSTING SIMILIE IN THE WORLD. The next time someone says, "Man you were on that like flies on dog poop," I am going to say, "FLIES HAVE NO BUSINESS BEING ON DOG POOP!" They were swarming around this poo the way my brother hangs around the dessert table at the Golden Corral. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran it over with my car. Now before you judge me, let me first tell you that the fly gods already punished me, so I don't need your judgment. The fly gods punished me by making my car smell like a rolling corn field that was just freshly fertilized. It did override the smell of Subway when I got off work though...
I believe that I will never ever achieve greatness in life. My calling in life is to be a competitve eater. I know this for a fact. I was watching Man vs. Food yesterday and realized that, with the right amoung of Tums on hand, I could complete the majority of the challenges his faces. However, my show would be called WOMAN VS. GARDEN...I would eat an immense amount vegetables...Now you're thinking, "Well if she is so good at it, why will she never achieve greatness?" I'M SCARED TO THROW UP!!! O my goodness...I ate one too many marshamellows yesterday, and I freaked out because I was feeling a bit too bloated. Then I burped, I was ok. Long story short, I have the ability to achieve greatness...but my fear of acidic stinkiness will keep me from ever reaching my full potential.....I'm sorry mom and dad.
BOOOOOO I'm tired.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
I'm blogstipated. I didn't blog for too long...TOO LONG...I will apologize again, even though my apologies are worth about as much as 2 pesos in Donald Trump's buttcrack. Let's talk now. Wait..I will eat a bowl a cereal...then we will talk.
Anyways, I have no excuse for my lack of blogging. I have just been writing for the newspaper, reading about writing a novel, trying to write a novel, constructing subs of greatness, attempting to work out daily, and trying to build a giant Q-tip that can clog the hole that is spilling all that dang oil in the gulf, so I have been a tiny bit tired.
I want to talk to you today about flies on poop. I saw it, like legit, for the first time in my life yesterday. I have had dogs my whole life, but I have NEVER had a dog that could drop a load like Lily (who is a golden retriever/lab/something else that we don't know because her mom is the dog version of a Vegas prostitute..she gives favors for male dogs who bring her treats). KIDDING..BACK TO PG...So, I am walking out to my car, and I see the Mount Everest of Dog Poo sitting outside. First, I gagged. Then, I high fived Lily on the fact that she was still live because I honestly thought her digestive system had become a new lawn ornament. Then, I had an ephiphany. Flies on dog poop is the MOST DISGUSTING SIMILIE IN THE WORLD. The next time someone says, "Man you were on that like flies on dog poop," I am going to say, "FLIES HAVE NO BUSINESS BEING ON DOG POOP!" They were swarming around this poo the way my brother hangs around the dessert table at the Golden Corral. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran it over with my car. Now before you judge me, let me first tell you that the fly gods already punished me, so I don't need your judgment. The fly gods punished me by making my car smell like a rolling corn field that was just freshly fertilized. It did override the smell of Subway when I got off work though...
I believe that I will never ever achieve greatness in life. My calling in life is to be a competitve eater. I know this for a fact. I was watching Man vs. Food yesterday and realized that, with the right amoung of Tums on hand, I could complete the majority of the challenges his faces. However, my show would be called WOMAN VS. GARDEN...I would eat an immense amount vegetables...Now you're thinking, "Well if she is so good at it, why will she never achieve greatness?" I'M SCARED TO THROW UP!!! O my goodness...I ate one too many marshamellows yesterday, and I freaked out because I was feeling a bit too bloated. Then I burped, I was ok. Long story short, I have the ability to achieve greatness...but my fear of acidic stinkiness will keep me from ever reaching my full potential.....I'm sorry mom and dad.
BOOOOOO I'm tired.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Sunday, June 13, 2010
If I Could Have A Bag of Popcorn Without Kernels....I Would Be Happier Than Breath Mint in a Garlic Shop
I like the way ya work it..NO DIGGITY,
So I was reading the newsfeed on AOL today and saw that Kroger recalled a bunch of ice cream. In a frenzy, I read the story because I LOVE KROGER and I LOVE ICE CREAM! I was writing my will because I assumed the ice cream that I ate was full of arsenic or something when I noticed that they simply recalled it because it may have come in contact with nuts, and it does not emphasize that it may have done so. At this moment, I said a brief prayer for the human who was allergic to nuts and discovered this. When recalls come out, I don't think we think about the person who first discovered that the product needed recalled. Imagine sitting in your kitchen, enjoying your Superman ice cream, and all of a sudden YOUR FACE IS THE SIZE OF A PEEP THAT HAS BEEN PUT IN THE MICROWAVE FOR 6.8 SECONDS!! You yell, "O NUTS! (literally)" and have to rush to the emergency room. I just pray that in the event that the Charmin Toilet Paper Factor is bombed by an itching powder bomb, I am not the person who realizes that the toilet paper needs to be recalled.
I ate vegetarian chicken alfredo today. IT WAS EVER SO DELICIOUS!! I started not eating meat because I simply hated meat. It wasn't for the environment, or animals, or my body. However, all three have now become reasons as well. I feel so much better physically, and it's nice to know mentally that I am helping the environment (not eating meat for a day saves the amount of water not showering for a year would) and animals. I will never preach it..because that's just annoying...but if it sounds like something for you, I would def encourage it. I do want to say that the only thing that tempts me anymore is the smell of toasted pepperoni. I am at work, and I toast these BMT and Spicy subs..and O MY GOODNESS!! If the Cher could fart (she can't; it's scientifically proven), it would smell like toasted pepperoni. I see the juicy, loveliness sitting below the gently melted cheese, and the aroma dances in my nostrils. I JUST WANT TO GRAB THE SUB AND EAT IT (even though I know that it would burn more than salt on a hemmoroid). I resist though...so I can guiltlessly watch Babe (the pig is SOOO adorable..I could never eat it).
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
So I was reading the newsfeed on AOL today and saw that Kroger recalled a bunch of ice cream. In a frenzy, I read the story because I LOVE KROGER and I LOVE ICE CREAM! I was writing my will because I assumed the ice cream that I ate was full of arsenic or something when I noticed that they simply recalled it because it may have come in contact with nuts, and it does not emphasize that it may have done so. At this moment, I said a brief prayer for the human who was allergic to nuts and discovered this. When recalls come out, I don't think we think about the person who first discovered that the product needed recalled. Imagine sitting in your kitchen, enjoying your Superman ice cream, and all of a sudden YOUR FACE IS THE SIZE OF A PEEP THAT HAS BEEN PUT IN THE MICROWAVE FOR 6.8 SECONDS!! You yell, "O NUTS! (literally)" and have to rush to the emergency room. I just pray that in the event that the Charmin Toilet Paper Factor is bombed by an itching powder bomb, I am not the person who realizes that the toilet paper needs to be recalled.
I ate vegetarian chicken alfredo today. IT WAS EVER SO DELICIOUS!! I started not eating meat because I simply hated meat. It wasn't for the environment, or animals, or my body. However, all three have now become reasons as well. I feel so much better physically, and it's nice to know mentally that I am helping the environment (not eating meat for a day saves the amount of water not showering for a year would) and animals. I will never preach it..because that's just annoying...but if it sounds like something for you, I would def encourage it. I do want to say that the only thing that tempts me anymore is the smell of toasted pepperoni. I am at work, and I toast these BMT and Spicy subs..and O MY GOODNESS!! If the Cher could fart (she can't; it's scientifically proven), it would smell like toasted pepperoni. I see the juicy, loveliness sitting below the gently melted cheese, and the aroma dances in my nostrils. I JUST WANT TO GRAB THE SUB AND EAT IT (even though I know that it would burn more than salt on a hemmoroid). I resist though...so I can guiltlessly watch Babe (the pig is SOOO adorable..I could never eat it).
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
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