Peace Up: A-Town Down,
I was off today, so I was quite nervous about this blog. You see, the only times I ever have anything interesting to say is when I have spent my day sticking small knives into long pieces of bread. However, today turned out to be more eventful than I had planned. Life is about the little things. People say I'm funny..and they can't believe all this funny stuff happens to me. I think it happens to everyone...we just need to take the moments to take in the little things. Life lessons from Emily! Ehh...you should probably just check out a self help book from the library instead.
Anyways, in regards to the library, I went today. I still have my Ereader...but I have no money. I have no money because...we'll just say that the money I make in a month at Subway would pay for one pair of Donald Trump's underwear, and my boyfriend and sister decided to be born 3 days apart, and the government wants me to celebrate the fact that my father raised me...C'MON PEOPLE! Kidding, I love giving people presents, and I love the people I am giving presents to. The money thing means that I can't buy new books for my Ereader, so I have to check em out old fashion style. I finished "Peter Pan," and I am not a better person because of it. I am now scared of pirates, crocodiles, small children, and Exlax (sometimes I read when I go potty).
The beauty of the library is silence. Who goes into the library and doesn't want to scream at the top of their lungs, "BOOBS!!!" I resisted the temptation to scream "BOOBS" but only because they were doing the kids' summer reading program, and I didn't think that was appropriate. I checked out a book on cross-gendered poetry, hence the title of my blog. No, this is not like dirty poetry. It's actually very interesting; women speaking in the voices of men and vice versa. Sometimes I speak like a man, but my boss says it bothers the customers, so I speak like Lucifer instead.
Today, I also made about 4 trips to Kroger. This is not unusal. We only consider it unusual when we go there more than 10 times a day. I was buying Honey Bunches of Oats, carrot cake, and crunchy peanut butter with my dad and sister. We went to self check out because I have always wanted to be a bag girl. There is something about making sure you don't put the bread at the bottom of the bag that makes me feel like a hero. Jenny thought it would be a cute idea to hit espanol. So, this machine starts screaming at us in Spanish!!! It wasn't a problem because I have the routine of the self checkout memorized (10 trips a day); the problem lied in the fact that EVERYONE IN THE STORE WAS STARING!! We'll just say I don't resemble Dora the Explorer in the slightest bit, so people sort of knew that I wasn't the type to speak espanol. While my sister is urinating herself in glee and my father was just standing there with his mouth half open, I was frantically trying to finish our checking out. It takes A LOT to embarrass me...and this might have been close. Glod Bless America.
My baking project of the day was Peanut Butter Crunch Cake. Carrot cake with peanut butter crunch concoction in the center and smooth peanut butter coating on top. When I got it out of the oven, it looked at me and said, "Thank you for baking me. I am so delicious that I will bring goodness and peace to the entire world" (in the southern drawl of Miley Cyrus..because she will someday save the world). Ok, cakes can't talk..but if they could, that's what mine would have said.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
An Average Adult Should Take In No More Than 2300 Milligrams Of Sodium A Day
Desiw,
Woeicjah eiwolskdch iewothidsp. weiothiois woeiicidaghtoisa sdkfjo, owiethskdkfjwithnskgsdsa. wieorjdsldkiesdiaotds.
Translation for the previous phrase:
Hey,
This is what my writing should look like right now. I hit my head harder than I have ever hit it before on the cooler at work, so now my brain has turned into Quaker Oatmeal.
I was minding my own business, stocking the bar at work so that I could provide the humble town of St. Marys with delicious delicatessen excellence. I grabbed the black olives, which I don't even think should be grabbed anyways because they are about as icky as an uncovered sneeze when you have a sinus infection, and I turned to leave the cooler. The cooler door frame, you know..the one that is 5'8'' which enables every employee to walk through with ease BUT ME, was a bit closer than I expected. Thank goodness I was in the store alone because not only did this run in with the stainless steel door jam move my ponytail to the same place it was in my third grade school picture, but it also caused me to yell (pardon me), "Dirty ball sacs on a leprechaun!" I now have a nice knot on my hairline that reminds me I am not 5'7''.
Once I came out of my coma, I decided to make a cake, well a torte. Torte..what a fun word. More like a body function than a type of dessert, but I won't judge. This was a root beer torte. I made my own whipped topping to go on top of the torte!!! Paula Deen, eat your heart out!! But make sure you barbeque it first on a charcoal grill (I'm an expert). I went into my room while my torte was being heated by the oven, and when I returned to check on it, I caught my sister committing a crime of beverage. You see, she thought no one would come in the kitchen, so when I came in, she got the "O poo, I didn't think you would come in while I was doing this," look on her face. What was she doing you ask? She was making Kool Aid..not just any Kool Aid, it was basically a block of sugar that was dampened by a little water and sprinkled with a Kool Aid packet. I caught her mid-dump; she had our giant sugar container in her hands and was DUMPING it into the jug. God Bless America! Colin asked if I taught her a lesson...nawww...when she is urinating Pez candies, she will realize she may have added a little too much.
Tomorrow, I start my training to become a WWE diva. Colin has gotten me into this obsession with WWE (wrestling). NEVER in a gazzillion years would I have thought I would like it. Now, I want to be a diva. All I need is about 5 more abs, 2 fake boobs, and some hair extensions...I'll start with sit ups. So if you are keeping track, that means I want to be a woman wrestling, pastry baking, tree hugging, poem writing giraffe. I won't forget you when I'm famous.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Woeicjah eiwolskdch iewothidsp. weiothiois woeiicidaghtoisa sdkfjo, owiethskdkfjwithnskgsdsa. wieorjdsldkiesdiaotds.
Translation for the previous phrase:
Hey,
This is what my writing should look like right now. I hit my head harder than I have ever hit it before on the cooler at work, so now my brain has turned into Quaker Oatmeal.
I was minding my own business, stocking the bar at work so that I could provide the humble town of St. Marys with delicious delicatessen excellence. I grabbed the black olives, which I don't even think should be grabbed anyways because they are about as icky as an uncovered sneeze when you have a sinus infection, and I turned to leave the cooler. The cooler door frame, you know..the one that is 5'8'' which enables every employee to walk through with ease BUT ME, was a bit closer than I expected. Thank goodness I was in the store alone because not only did this run in with the stainless steel door jam move my ponytail to the same place it was in my third grade school picture, but it also caused me to yell (pardon me), "Dirty ball sacs on a leprechaun!" I now have a nice knot on my hairline that reminds me I am not 5'7''.
Once I came out of my coma, I decided to make a cake, well a torte. Torte..what a fun word. More like a body function than a type of dessert, but I won't judge. This was a root beer torte. I made my own whipped topping to go on top of the torte!!! Paula Deen, eat your heart out!! But make sure you barbeque it first on a charcoal grill (I'm an expert). I went into my room while my torte was being heated by the oven, and when I returned to check on it, I caught my sister committing a crime of beverage. You see, she thought no one would come in the kitchen, so when I came in, she got the "O poo, I didn't think you would come in while I was doing this," look on her face. What was she doing you ask? She was making Kool Aid..not just any Kool Aid, it was basically a block of sugar that was dampened by a little water and sprinkled with a Kool Aid packet. I caught her mid-dump; she had our giant sugar container in her hands and was DUMPING it into the jug. God Bless America! Colin asked if I taught her a lesson...nawww...when she is urinating Pez candies, she will realize she may have added a little too much.
Tomorrow, I start my training to become a WWE diva. Colin has gotten me into this obsession with WWE (wrestling). NEVER in a gazzillion years would I have thought I would like it. Now, I want to be a diva. All I need is about 5 more abs, 2 fake boobs, and some hair extensions...I'll start with sit ups. So if you are keeping track, that means I want to be a woman wrestling, pastry baking, tree hugging, poem writing giraffe. I won't forget you when I'm famous.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Dolphins Can Stay Up To 15 Minutes Under Water
O O Hey,
Today was another lovely day for me. Let's just let every blog have the implication that I had a lovely day unless I state otherwise because I have realized that I say this all the time. Right now, I am watching The Next Food Network Star. Someday I will own a bakery, and I will provide everyone with delicious pastries. It will be called "Auntie Em's Place of Patries and Tasties." (I will use the name "Auntie" whether I am an aunt or not..it has a much better ring to it.) I will serve cake and pie and muffins and scones and wintergreen mints (those are the tasties that make your breath smell better after the pastries.)
So this morning I went to church. I LOVE church, but I don't ever have anything funny to say about it because I love it so much. Moving on, I rushed to Delphos so that Colin and I could see a matinee of "Splice." On the topic of "Splice," we will just say that going from worshipping Jesus to watching images of humans..umm..do the deed with odd scientific created characters was quite an intense transition on a Sunday afternoon. It was a good movie, don't get me wrong, but I'm not sure what kind of genre it would fit under. It's not Horror, it's not Sci Fi, it's not Romance...it's more like O My Gosh, What the Heck Did I Eat Before Bed To Have A Dream Like That genre. After the movie, Colin and I did it Beer Barrell style. WOAH! You guys are dirty...it's a restaurant. We ordered the cheese deep dish pizza...14 inch...after Colin said 14 inch, our waitress replied, "Are you sure you want the 14 inch?" That, my friends, is when you know you are going to have a good dinner. Our waitress came out of the kitchen pulling our pizza behind her in a Radio Flyer. The first difficulty was getting a piece of this out of the grips of the 600 degree pan. If there is a pizza cutting school, the cook at Beer Barrell didn't attend it. After Colin suffered third degree burns, we both enjoyed our pile (it can't be described as a piece) of pizza. It was DELICIOUS; however, each bite proved to be a serious threat. Everytime I swallowed, I feared that some of the cheese would stay in my mouth while the rest of it went down my throat. Like when you're eating cheese sticks..and you have to stick your fingers past the dangly ball in the back of your throat to retrieve a strand of mozzerella as you gag pitifully and your life flashes before your eyes. I didn't choke, and the Reds won! God Bless America!
I love food and coffee (we got Bigby after Beer Barrell) and Colin, so now you know why today was a lovely day. Update on my brother's diet. He has finished close to a half gallon of ice cream and is now eating the pasta mom made him for lunch tomorrow...this his is snack. There are competitive eaters that would get full eating the CRUMBS off Eric's couch everyday. He's cute though..and a nice guy ladies...and he showers at least once a week!!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Today was another lovely day for me. Let's just let every blog have the implication that I had a lovely day unless I state otherwise because I have realized that I say this all the time. Right now, I am watching The Next Food Network Star. Someday I will own a bakery, and I will provide everyone with delicious pastries. It will be called "Auntie Em's Place of Patries and Tasties." (I will use the name "Auntie" whether I am an aunt or not..it has a much better ring to it.) I will serve cake and pie and muffins and scones and wintergreen mints (those are the tasties that make your breath smell better after the pastries.)
So this morning I went to church. I LOVE church, but I don't ever have anything funny to say about it because I love it so much. Moving on, I rushed to Delphos so that Colin and I could see a matinee of "Splice." On the topic of "Splice," we will just say that going from worshipping Jesus to watching images of humans..umm..do the deed with odd scientific created characters was quite an intense transition on a Sunday afternoon. It was a good movie, don't get me wrong, but I'm not sure what kind of genre it would fit under. It's not Horror, it's not Sci Fi, it's not Romance...it's more like O My Gosh, What the Heck Did I Eat Before Bed To Have A Dream Like That genre. After the movie, Colin and I did it Beer Barrell style. WOAH! You guys are dirty...it's a restaurant. We ordered the cheese deep dish pizza...14 inch...after Colin said 14 inch, our waitress replied, "Are you sure you want the 14 inch?" That, my friends, is when you know you are going to have a good dinner. Our waitress came out of the kitchen pulling our pizza behind her in a Radio Flyer. The first difficulty was getting a piece of this out of the grips of the 600 degree pan. If there is a pizza cutting school, the cook at Beer Barrell didn't attend it. After Colin suffered third degree burns, we both enjoyed our pile (it can't be described as a piece) of pizza. It was DELICIOUS; however, each bite proved to be a serious threat. Everytime I swallowed, I feared that some of the cheese would stay in my mouth while the rest of it went down my throat. Like when you're eating cheese sticks..and you have to stick your fingers past the dangly ball in the back of your throat to retrieve a strand of mozzerella as you gag pitifully and your life flashes before your eyes. I didn't choke, and the Reds won! God Bless America!
I love food and coffee (we got Bigby after Beer Barrell) and Colin, so now you know why today was a lovely day. Update on my brother's diet. He has finished close to a half gallon of ice cream and is now eating the pasta mom made him for lunch tomorrow...this his is snack. There are competitive eaters that would get full eating the CRUMBS off Eric's couch everyday. He's cute though..and a nice guy ladies...and he showers at least once a week!!
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Saturday, June 5, 2010
"I Generally Avoid Temptation. Unless, I Can't Resist It" Mae West
Apples, Peaches, Pears, and Plums, Line Up When Your Birthday Comes,
Well folks, I have both good news and bad news. The good news is: the lockness monster does, in fact, exist, and I believe I may have found him. The bad news is: HE IS IN MY TOILET! (well plumbing...but my toilet is part of that.) It all started early Thursday morning. I went potty for the third time that night (like usual...I think my bladder stores the equivalent of a Capri Sun) around 4 a.m. I peed, wiped, and flushed. God Bless America. As I was nestled back into my comfy (that's an overstatement; I sleep in the same bed my mom slept in when she was my age) bed, I hear what sounds like a lawn mower. My first thought, "How efficient! Someone is trying to mow their yard at a more eco friendly time of day!" (Global warming people!) Then I realized it was coming from inside the house, and as often as I have begged to have grass planted in the kitchen, it is yet to happen. Ever since then, our toilet makes this OWEIRJWIOSICFEOI sound about 14 seconds after you flush it, and if you sit on the toilet long enough after you flush, it sort of rumbles with the growl (I tried it). Dad says we have an air pocket or something in our pipes. Give me a break! I know it's the lockness monster...but you know...the more I think of it...maybe an air bubble makes sense. It would explain where all the farts go....hmmm....
Anyways, toilets are pretty much stupid anyways. We're always like, "What would I do without indoor plumbing?" I'll tell you what I would do. I would NEVER have to clean up an overflowing toilet in a Subway bathroom!! You see, someone thought that the toilet looked like a much more logical place than the trashcan to toss the very thick paper towels that she dried her hands off with. I was panning bread, and I hear.."EMILY!! EMILY!!!" My coworker was in the women's restroom staring at an overflowing toilet. The water was rising quicker than we could clean it up, so we had to sandbag ourselves into the kitchen using all the footlong pieces of bread. When the water started dissolving the bread, all we could do was cling onto pieces of floating fresh vegetables so we didn't drown. Ok...everything after "at an overflowing toilet" was a lie, but we did have to mop up the overflowed mess. If only we had disposable port-o-potties...that would be a perfect world.
Today, I made the most beautiful Boston Cream Pie, but I am so confused by them. They are made from cake mix...how are they pies? There isn't even a crust. It's like false advertising. I made it because my mom is trying to get my brother to start a diet, and I just love to watch him squirm. What's more tempting than a warm Boston Cream Pake (I'll compromise) with homemade chocolate coating slowly dripping down the sides of a double layered yellow cake that houses a pile of delicious vanilla pudding in the middle. I also made it because it was a double batched recipe, so Colin will finally get to eat some cake that I made (he doesn't get it very often because my family usually demolishes it before he gets it.)
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Well folks, I have both good news and bad news. The good news is: the lockness monster does, in fact, exist, and I believe I may have found him. The bad news is: HE IS IN MY TOILET! (well plumbing...but my toilet is part of that.) It all started early Thursday morning. I went potty for the third time that night (like usual...I think my bladder stores the equivalent of a Capri Sun) around 4 a.m. I peed, wiped, and flushed. God Bless America. As I was nestled back into my comfy (that's an overstatement; I sleep in the same bed my mom slept in when she was my age) bed, I hear what sounds like a lawn mower. My first thought, "How efficient! Someone is trying to mow their yard at a more eco friendly time of day!" (Global warming people!) Then I realized it was coming from inside the house, and as often as I have begged to have grass planted in the kitchen, it is yet to happen. Ever since then, our toilet makes this OWEIRJWIOSICFEOI sound about 14 seconds after you flush it, and if you sit on the toilet long enough after you flush, it sort of rumbles with the growl (I tried it). Dad says we have an air pocket or something in our pipes. Give me a break! I know it's the lockness monster...but you know...the more I think of it...maybe an air bubble makes sense. It would explain where all the farts go....hmmm....
Anyways, toilets are pretty much stupid anyways. We're always like, "What would I do without indoor plumbing?" I'll tell you what I would do. I would NEVER have to clean up an overflowing toilet in a Subway bathroom!! You see, someone thought that the toilet looked like a much more logical place than the trashcan to toss the very thick paper towels that she dried her hands off with. I was panning bread, and I hear.."EMILY!! EMILY!!!" My coworker was in the women's restroom staring at an overflowing toilet. The water was rising quicker than we could clean it up, so we had to sandbag ourselves into the kitchen using all the footlong pieces of bread. When the water started dissolving the bread, all we could do was cling onto pieces of floating fresh vegetables so we didn't drown. Ok...everything after "at an overflowing toilet" was a lie, but we did have to mop up the overflowed mess. If only we had disposable port-o-potties...that would be a perfect world.
Today, I made the most beautiful Boston Cream Pie, but I am so confused by them. They are made from cake mix...how are they pies? There isn't even a crust. It's like false advertising. I made it because my mom is trying to get my brother to start a diet, and I just love to watch him squirm. What's more tempting than a warm Boston Cream Pake (I'll compromise) with homemade chocolate coating slowly dripping down the sides of a double layered yellow cake that houses a pile of delicious vanilla pudding in the middle. I also made it because it was a double batched recipe, so Colin will finally get to eat some cake that I made (he doesn't get it very often because my family usually demolishes it before he gets it.)
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Thursday, June 3, 2010
"I'll Have A Little Bit of A Lot of Salt and Pepper on the Tomatoes"
Hi friends,
Another uneventful day in the life of Emily Eileen Shellabarger. Summer is becoming quite, dare I say, BORING! So getting stomach ulcers and reading the equivalent of 15 Bibles every night during the school year isn't exactly a cup of Diet Cream Soda, but this workout, work, sleep thing is a Chinese finger trap on your thumb. My day itself was quite boring, but I witnessed and heard an abundance of interesting things throughout this bleh day.
First of all, I witnessed a woman breaking the cardinal sin of both working out and beverage drinking. This is NOT a lie; it's so unbelievable. So I am ellipticalling, sweating like a pig, listening to Lady GaGa, and reading Peter Pan (I have an Ereader and I am currently reading Peter Pan..JUDGE ME!) when a woman comes in wearing spandex capris and a tight pink shirt - she was not an extremely large woman, but my personal opinion is that only professional beach volleyball players should work out in spandex in public. She mounted the elliptical next to me and an aroma of sweet coffee scent filled my nose. I removed myself from Neverland and noticed that she was drinking a CAPPUCINO ON THE ELLIPTICAL!! Was she just planning on strolling through the park?! Because I am pretty sure the elliptical doesn't have a "strolling through the park while drinking a 500 calorie cappucino" setting. She was like an ellipticalling oxymoron. Burning calories, taking them in, burning them, taking them in.
My next two interesting experiences occurred at work. As much as people make me want to stub every toe by drop kicking a pile of bricks, they also make me giddy. Exhibit A) A young boy (probably like 6 years old) came in with his mother. "Hey Johnny (we will call him Johnny), what kind of sub do you want?" "UH I want cucumbers." "I know, but what kind of sub?" "UH..." His deliberation went on for about 3.5 minutes before he decided upon turkey. I then asked him if he wanted anything else but cucumbers and he looked at me and said, "When I put my arm up to the TV, the hairs stick straight up." Children are God's gift to fast food workers. Please, for just one second, imagine your mom looking at the McDonald's cashier and say, "When I do the dishes, my fingers look like prunes." It just wouldn't happen; without children, the life of a fast food worker would simply be full of people who act like the worst thing that has ever happened to them is the fact that you put 6 pickles on their sub instead of 8.
Speaking of decorating a sub, my final interesting occurrence was provided by an adult. I realized that Subway workers must be able to translate each persons' order into, what I call, the Subway Formula of Excellence. You see, my "a bit" may be your "a lot," or Bob saying, "Extra onions," may be Shelly's normal amount of onions. Therefore, I have developed a formula. If it could be written out, it would look something like: word choice + facial reaction upon putting on topping x body mass of customer = Subway Excellence. So far, so good. However, today I had a man who stumped the formula. This formula is difficult to use for salt, pepper, and oregano, so you just have to wing those. Also, this man used the most interesting word choice I have ever heard. "I will have a little bit of a lot of salt and pepper on the tomatoes." HMM..maybe he is dating the ellipticalling oxymoron because "SIR THAT MADE NO SENSE AT ALL!" So I just shook the shaker til it looked right. God Bless America.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Another uneventful day in the life of Emily Eileen Shellabarger. Summer is becoming quite, dare I say, BORING! So getting stomach ulcers and reading the equivalent of 15 Bibles every night during the school year isn't exactly a cup of Diet Cream Soda, but this workout, work, sleep thing is a Chinese finger trap on your thumb. My day itself was quite boring, but I witnessed and heard an abundance of interesting things throughout this bleh day.
First of all, I witnessed a woman breaking the cardinal sin of both working out and beverage drinking. This is NOT a lie; it's so unbelievable. So I am ellipticalling, sweating like a pig, listening to Lady GaGa, and reading Peter Pan (I have an Ereader and I am currently reading Peter Pan..JUDGE ME!) when a woman comes in wearing spandex capris and a tight pink shirt - she was not an extremely large woman, but my personal opinion is that only professional beach volleyball players should work out in spandex in public. She mounted the elliptical next to me and an aroma of sweet coffee scent filled my nose. I removed myself from Neverland and noticed that she was drinking a CAPPUCINO ON THE ELLIPTICAL!! Was she just planning on strolling through the park?! Because I am pretty sure the elliptical doesn't have a "strolling through the park while drinking a 500 calorie cappucino" setting. She was like an ellipticalling oxymoron. Burning calories, taking them in, burning them, taking them in.
My next two interesting experiences occurred at work. As much as people make me want to stub every toe by drop kicking a pile of bricks, they also make me giddy. Exhibit A) A young boy (probably like 6 years old) came in with his mother. "Hey Johnny (we will call him Johnny), what kind of sub do you want?" "UH I want cucumbers." "I know, but what kind of sub?" "UH..." His deliberation went on for about 3.5 minutes before he decided upon turkey. I then asked him if he wanted anything else but cucumbers and he looked at me and said, "When I put my arm up to the TV, the hairs stick straight up." Children are God's gift to fast food workers. Please, for just one second, imagine your mom looking at the McDonald's cashier and say, "When I do the dishes, my fingers look like prunes." It just wouldn't happen; without children, the life of a fast food worker would simply be full of people who act like the worst thing that has ever happened to them is the fact that you put 6 pickles on their sub instead of 8.
Speaking of decorating a sub, my final interesting occurrence was provided by an adult. I realized that Subway workers must be able to translate each persons' order into, what I call, the Subway Formula of Excellence. You see, my "a bit" may be your "a lot," or Bob saying, "Extra onions," may be Shelly's normal amount of onions. Therefore, I have developed a formula. If it could be written out, it would look something like: word choice + facial reaction upon putting on topping x body mass of customer = Subway Excellence. So far, so good. However, today I had a man who stumped the formula. This formula is difficult to use for salt, pepper, and oregano, so you just have to wing those. Also, this man used the most interesting word choice I have ever heard. "I will have a little bit of a lot of salt and pepper on the tomatoes." HMM..maybe he is dating the ellipticalling oxymoron because "SIR THAT MADE NO SENSE AT ALL!" So I just shook the shaker til it looked right. God Bless America.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Why Are The Little Candy Bars "Fun-Sized"...I Have More Fun With A Normal Sized One
Hi,
I ate a hot dog today...KIDDING..it was a Reese Cup Blizzard, but they're basically the same thing. It was a wonderfully delicious Blizzard, but the girl who made it seemed to have overestimated the amount of ice cream needed because there was a second small Blizzard towering over the rim of my first small Blizzard. I was not the slightest bit angry...not even for a second..ok maybe for like 4.2 seconds when it kept leaking onto my fingers (did I mention the girl forgot to give me napkins?)
Anyways, I made the most amazing cake today. I named it Pamela (I like to name inanimate objects, and this cake was extravagent enough to be named Pamela.) It was a triple chocolate, double layer cake with butter cream frosting garnished with crunched Twix bars. God came into my kitchen with Barbara Walters and asked for a piece; that's how delicious it was. My mom had a piece for lunch, and then she had a piece of the cream cheese cake she made Monday for dessert. She's a mom though, so she is allowed to have a pure cake diet.
I like getting ready for work. There is no pressure to it at all because I know that I am going to smell like a sub, be covered in mustard, and mess up my hair by hitting my head on the cooler within 10 minutes of being at work, so I just have to sneeze into my make up case (to powder my face of course) and toss my hair into a messy bun. The only problem with my uniform is that it's unisex. I happen to be what I like to call a "male-sized female." And since I have lost some weight, the fatty masses that are between between chin and belly button are not as prominent as they used to be. Subway workers also don't wear name tags. Sneezing into my make up case doesn't put on mascara or eye liner and my pants cover my hairless legs, so I can easily be confused as a boy. Once while working at McDonalds, a young boy asked his grandma, "Is that a boy or a girl?" The grandma was more embarrassed than I was, but I have actually been pretty self concious about it since. As if hitting my head on the 5'8'' freezer doorway everyday isn't enough punishment for being a large woman, young children also have to question if I sit or stand to pee. God Bless America.
I know where Jelly Bellys got their names. I just ate so many of them I fell like someone broke a jar of jelly and is pushing the shards of broken glass into my belly. Just saying.
Fascinating Quote of the Day: "This purse is kind of a nuisance. The opening isn't big enough for me to put my quilt in." My mother..she knits.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
I ate a hot dog today...KIDDING..it was a Reese Cup Blizzard, but they're basically the same thing. It was a wonderfully delicious Blizzard, but the girl who made it seemed to have overestimated the amount of ice cream needed because there was a second small Blizzard towering over the rim of my first small Blizzard. I was not the slightest bit angry...not even for a second..ok maybe for like 4.2 seconds when it kept leaking onto my fingers (did I mention the girl forgot to give me napkins?)
Anyways, I made the most amazing cake today. I named it Pamela (I like to name inanimate objects, and this cake was extravagent enough to be named Pamela.) It was a triple chocolate, double layer cake with butter cream frosting garnished with crunched Twix bars. God came into my kitchen with Barbara Walters and asked for a piece; that's how delicious it was. My mom had a piece for lunch, and then she had a piece of the cream cheese cake she made Monday for dessert. She's a mom though, so she is allowed to have a pure cake diet.
I like getting ready for work. There is no pressure to it at all because I know that I am going to smell like a sub, be covered in mustard, and mess up my hair by hitting my head on the cooler within 10 minutes of being at work, so I just have to sneeze into my make up case (to powder my face of course) and toss my hair into a messy bun. The only problem with my uniform is that it's unisex. I happen to be what I like to call a "male-sized female." And since I have lost some weight, the fatty masses that are between between chin and belly button are not as prominent as they used to be. Subway workers also don't wear name tags. Sneezing into my make up case doesn't put on mascara or eye liner and my pants cover my hairless legs, so I can easily be confused as a boy. Once while working at McDonalds, a young boy asked his grandma, "Is that a boy or a girl?" The grandma was more embarrassed than I was, but I have actually been pretty self concious about it since. As if hitting my head on the 5'8'' freezer doorway everyday isn't enough punishment for being a large woman, young children also have to question if I sit or stand to pee. God Bless America.
I know where Jelly Bellys got their names. I just ate so many of them I fell like someone broke a jar of jelly and is pushing the shards of broken glass into my belly. Just saying.
Fascinating Quote of the Day: "This purse is kind of a nuisance. The opening isn't big enough for me to put my quilt in." My mother..she knits.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Am I Allowed to Eat 2 Bananas in 1 Day?
Well Hello,
Exhaustion is approaching me faster than a used car salesman who hasn't sold a car in 3 weeks, so I really hope I make it through. Today, I want to tell you about something that's annoying, but it really shouldn't be. This morning, I took my brother and sister out for breakfast at Robert Evans (some call him Bob, but he told me he prefers Robert). I was being a wonderful sister and assumed that my sibilings would get the drift that I am paying so you find one of the more cheaper items and get water. Well, that memo stopped right before my brother got it. He got an open-faced pulled pork sandwich and home fries FOR BREAKFAST!!! Our waitress bent the rules for him since he doesn't like eggs. This meal happened to be $9.28..and you know what he washed the $9.28 down with? Water? Maybe if we were in a perfect world...he chased the pork down with $1.79 Diet Pepsi. Don't worry though, my sister got a child's french toast meal that was only 2 bucks, and I got a coffee...only a coffee...because my brother was across the table eating Babe and half of Idaho. I love him though, and I love doing those kind of things for them every once in a while.
Now where was I, o yes, other than people spending a lot of YOUR money...I am also annoyed by waitresses who give me more coffee without asking if I want it. It sounds like I am complaining, but does anyone understand how much this messes up my coffee drinking experience?! First, it messes up my cream/sweetener to coffee ratio. Umm HI..I like my coffee to be a delicious mix of bold, Columbian flavors with a gentle hint of the finest CoffeeMate cream and a touch of sweetness from my Equal. When you pour more coffee into my cup without asking me, instead of my heavenly coffee experience, I get a bitter swallow of scolding hot Satan water. I then have to add more cream (which isn't a huge deal because they have those cute little cream holders with the spout..I enjoy spouts) and Equal. The Equal is what is embarrassing. I end up with a pile of Equal wrappers that not only EQUAtes(I rock) to like 6 trees (global warming people!), but it also makes me look like a 12 year old who needs a million sugars in her coffee instead of the sophisticated adult I am! That's how much it messes up my cup. And speaking of scolding, pouring unwanted coffee into my mug also makes it 82342039 GAZILLION degrees hotter. Some people enjoy their coffee to be warmed, but I just don't like the feeling of a blow torch being ignited down my esophagus...maybe I'm weird? I enjoy free refills, don't get me wrong..WHEN I WANT THEM!! So moral of the story, please ask me before you pour Satan's armpit sweat into my coffee mug. And if you do not ask me, be prepared to fill a garbage bag full of empty Equal wrappers when you clean off my table.
I'm done. That was mean because I am tired. Sorry.
Quote of the Day by Grandma Shellabarger: "Why didn't you sit still and keep the fart in the chair?"
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
Exhaustion is approaching me faster than a used car salesman who hasn't sold a car in 3 weeks, so I really hope I make it through. Today, I want to tell you about something that's annoying, but it really shouldn't be. This morning, I took my brother and sister out for breakfast at Robert Evans (some call him Bob, but he told me he prefers Robert). I was being a wonderful sister and assumed that my sibilings would get the drift that I am paying so you find one of the more cheaper items and get water. Well, that memo stopped right before my brother got it. He got an open-faced pulled pork sandwich and home fries FOR BREAKFAST!!! Our waitress bent the rules for him since he doesn't like eggs. This meal happened to be $9.28..and you know what he washed the $9.28 down with? Water? Maybe if we were in a perfect world...he chased the pork down with $1.79 Diet Pepsi. Don't worry though, my sister got a child's french toast meal that was only 2 bucks, and I got a coffee...only a coffee...because my brother was across the table eating Babe and half of Idaho. I love him though, and I love doing those kind of things for them every once in a while.
Now where was I, o yes, other than people spending a lot of YOUR money...I am also annoyed by waitresses who give me more coffee without asking if I want it. It sounds like I am complaining, but does anyone understand how much this messes up my coffee drinking experience?! First, it messes up my cream/sweetener to coffee ratio. Umm HI..I like my coffee to be a delicious mix of bold, Columbian flavors with a gentle hint of the finest CoffeeMate cream and a touch of sweetness from my Equal. When you pour more coffee into my cup without asking me, instead of my heavenly coffee experience, I get a bitter swallow of scolding hot Satan water. I then have to add more cream (which isn't a huge deal because they have those cute little cream holders with the spout..I enjoy spouts) and Equal. The Equal is what is embarrassing. I end up with a pile of Equal wrappers that not only EQUAtes(I rock) to like 6 trees (global warming people!), but it also makes me look like a 12 year old who needs a million sugars in her coffee instead of the sophisticated adult I am! That's how much it messes up my cup. And speaking of scolding, pouring unwanted coffee into my mug also makes it 82342039 GAZILLION degrees hotter. Some people enjoy their coffee to be warmed, but I just don't like the feeling of a blow torch being ignited down my esophagus...maybe I'm weird? I enjoy free refills, don't get me wrong..WHEN I WANT THEM!! So moral of the story, please ask me before you pour Satan's armpit sweat into my coffee mug. And if you do not ask me, be prepared to fill a garbage bag full of empty Equal wrappers when you clean off my table.
I'm done. That was mean because I am tired. Sorry.
Quote of the Day by Grandma Shellabarger: "Why didn't you sit still and keep the fart in the chair?"
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
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