Confessional

It seems I'm always leaving little facts about myself all over the place so here's a list for your amusement.
1.I grew up on a commune
2.I was in Empire Records
3.My mom had me buffed by an angel when I was in 6th grade (don't ask)
4.I have a pink MINI Cooper
5.My step Mom is a psychic
6.My sister use to live on Dawson's Creek (literally)
7.I spent many years thinking I drove my great grandma from Maine to New Jersey in a red fire truck when I was 5.
8.I made my dad burn my baby blanket in the furnace because I wanted to be a big girl.
9.My first cat was named Black Rat
10.My last cats name was Eggroll.
11.My first sculpture (6th grade) was named Herpes.
12.Cinemon makes my taste buds fall off...but I eat it anyway
13.My first stuffed animal was a Maine black bear which to this day still has hardened baby Emily puke on it.
14.I have asphalt from Bar Harbor, Maine permanently imbedded in my knee.
15.My boyfriend talks in his sleep.
16.I was threatened with suspension for wearing a fork in my hair to high school (apparently forks are dangerous weapons)
17.Late at night walking on the beach, not wearing my glasses I kicked two people having sex because I thought they were a piece of driftwood.
18.I use to eat Milk Bone dog biscuits and sticks of butter like they were going out of style.
19.I've pee'd all over Vegas.
20.I'm naturally blond.

To be continued...

Humbug

It's a quiet evening in the land of Emily. My delectable other half is downstairs passed out on the couch from food poisoning (yay Christmas) and I'm upstairs staring blankly at my computer hoping something interesting will magically pop onto my screen, sipping eggnog and waiting impatiently for the end of the year to happen.

tick...tick...tick

Cheers to cusomer service

My work gave me the day off which I'm very happy about and had awesome plans of nothingness. I thought I had avoided the Christmas insanity all together this year, until my couch surfing was interrupted by a phone call. It turns out my significant other needed me to run a "Simple" errand and pick up a few "simple" gifts. No problem I thought, it's the middle of the afternoon 2 days before Christmas, how hard can it be? 3 hours later I'm stumbling back in my humble abode and flopping on the couch like I'd just battled the vagina alien at the end of Starship Troopers and lost. I am now officially a casualty of the Christmas traffic, lack of parking and wonderful costumer service. The holiday spirit has never been something that runs through my veins...but sickness and impatience for bad customer service does. A few days ago I was at a doctor’s visit trying to find out if I'm just a hypochondriac or if I'm going to die, when the not so polite nurse jabs a needle in my arm and proclaimed loudly "These are bad needles; I don't know why we have them!" I looked up at her and replied "Do you really think you should say that to the person who's arm the needle is sticking in to?" she then yanked the needle out of my arm, left the room pissed, and starts bitching to another nurse. Moments later a new nurse who barely speaks English joins me in the room, and pulls out 6 more vials on top of the one already filled to the brim with my holiday spirit. She blushes and tells me in a polite foreign manner, "Oh, these aren't all for you." then ends up filling all of them with what's left of the blood in my body...Liar.
So much for nice people. Today the customer service and people I endured was definitely a little better then the nurses from hell but I did have one register run out of receipt tape, another girl methodically tap her fingers the whole time she rang me up, and almost got ran over 2 times by people pushing shopping carts. So to my wonderful day that went down the drains as fast as my blood filled enough vials to save 3 people with Ebola, I say Cheers to bad customer service and the holiday spirit. I say Humbug...good thing I have eggnog!

For the love of God Emily, shut your mouth!

Imagine if you will, standing outside on a nice sunny day enjoying the afternoon’s bagel bowling contest your work is hosting. You are at the end of the bowling alley with a perfect view of the festivities, the wind in your hair and a smile on your face. Two of your managers are standing in front of you when one of them delightfully comments, "We're the automatic ball retrieval!" Do not, I repeat DO NOT open your mouth and respond, "Yeah, I've heard that before."

$3,400 Ass Crack

Looks like that's the total cost to look at a big hairy crack. Last Friday I was doing laundry when I noticed my socks were soggy...the ones on my feet...not the ones in the washer. I've had all sorts of bad things happen to me in my life when it comes to home ownership and especially plumbing. Why can't it ever be simple? Why me? It's never anything small, small things just don't break for me; it's always big things. I came home once to a swimming pool in my kitchen that took 2 days to pump out after the water heater had been replaced. Twoooooo Days! Then a pipe burst in my bathroom wall. I know I've always wanted my own private waterfall, but not like that! As a result I didn't have a bathroom for a few weeks while they replaced the entire floor. I was in a one-bathroom house with 3 roommates, so we'll just say we invested in some Ziploc Baggies or the backyard, you do the math. Only once have I lucked out in one of these situations. My toilet backed up creating a horrendous site and smell. Nothing did any good, Liquid plumber didn't work and the little rooter thing didn't work either. When I broke down and called (dun dun dun) the Plumber, it turned out he just happened to be tripping on acid and was convinced he knew me, thus I only had to spend $140 on a new toilet. The psychedelic plumber came back on his lunch break and did the work for free. I can't say I've known anyone else have there plumbing done by someone who was tripping and telling stories about finding dead squirrels in toilets. My clog was not due to a poor misguided woodland creature, it was in fact caused by my deodorant that one of my roommates conveniently didn't remember knocking in the toilet. So here I am, staring at this mans crack waiting for the Mack daddy of all plumbing disasters. I am a woman who knows...I know there is a plumbing poltergeist and I know he follows me wherever I go. But this time I can't cover it, I don't have $3,400 to spend on the site of this mans butt cleavage. So what will become of me? Will I be forced to continue showering at our complex's pool area until the water fairy saves me? Will my beloved boyfriend do it himself? Will I inherit 50billion dollars from a relative I didn't know I have? Will I be forced into slavery or stripping? Will I sell my car?...stay tuned...only time will tell.

Woman-VS-Quarter....Quarter wins

If you love something, set it free
it probably wasn't ment to be.
If you hate something, let it go.
It will come back to you, fo sho.

There it is, my bad rhyme for the day. This is the lesson I'm learning.

Let's go back to about a month ago; I never carry cash anymore, I always have credit but for some reason I ended up with some greenbacks in my wallett. So, I spent them Yay! I don't remember what I spent them on but the green was downsized to silver. Whippee, I have change! Now to me, change is a valuable substance. Mere feet from my wonderful cubicle is a glowing and humming magic box we call a vending machine. This particular vending machine holds a substance more valuable to me than gold, it holds Redbull. Oh my glorious Redbull, sweet nectar of Gods. Happily I inserted my change into it's little opening, then the unthinkable happened. One of my quarters was spit back out at me. What is this? What kind of crazy machine are you? Is my money no good to you? I tried again, and again, it was no good. The machine would not have my quarter. Upon closer inspection I realized why, it was a Canadian Quarter. Damn you Canadians! You can do everything else right. They can make good wine, they don't shoot each other all the time like American's do, there are cute boys who live there with accents, and they use the term "aye" which makes me giggle every time I hear it. So if Canada is so great WHYYYYYYY can't they make a friggin quarter properly?! No problem I thought, I'll just get rid of it. The next time someone needed change for a dollar I gave it to them only to try and buy my precious life juice a week later to have my quarter spit back at me again. Ummm, I’m not sure how I got it back. I then gave it to someone else but again it came back to me. This last time I used it at our reception desk to buy a stamp only to get it back again a few days later when needing change. This spawn of Satan quarter is back in my desks drawer awaiting its next victim I will pawn it off on. If it returns again I will throw it off a bridge...all though I'm not really sure there are any bridges around here considering Arizona is kind of lacking in the water department.

Hate is such a strong word

yet it is so appropriate for the moment.

The Top 10 Sure Signs of PMS (at least the kind I get);

1. The TV show "America's Next Top Model" makes you cry during the elimination round when you watch it to laugh at the model chicks crying over elimination.
2. Nothing goes your way, including your cell phone that miraculously freezes up for no apparent reason and won't even turn off, not even when you take the battery out!
3. You can harvest enough oil off your zitty forehead to power New York City for the next 3 years.
4. Your ass now feels like a very large tug-boat as opposed to it's normal medium tug-boat size and you have to check behind you after standing up to make sure your chair isn't attached.
5. Chocolate sounds real good right about now.
6. You feel like the Creature from "Tremor's" is tunneling its' way through your' spine and an alien baby is going to pop out of your' stomach and sing the chorus "Hello my baby, Hello my Darlin'".
7. Standing, sitting, moving, thinking, and lying down do not sound appealing.
8. You have to poop something fierce.
9. Your concentration has flown the coup like a bat out of hell.
   
10. Nothing will make you smile, and if you do smile it will look incredibly fake.
    

So there you have it...Hate is a strong word, but I HATE CRAMPS! And right now HATE is the only word in my vocabulary...word of advice; STAY AWAY from a girl with PMS, she is evil. Unless of course you can overwhelm her with compliments, backrubs, hot baths and chocolate.