You have just stumbled upon the ramblings, photographs, creations, shopping habits and delirium of an unsound nineteen year old woman's mind. Hi, I'm Emma. The fact that I miswrote my age as 'thirteen' just now should be a tip off about what's to come. That said, I love such sweetnesses as bunny slippers, Hello Kitty, maraschino cherries, interior decorating, paper and sewing crafts, desserts, costume jewelry, and pinching snapdragons so that they may carry out conversations with one another. All of these things and more will be mentioned numerous times in my writings.

...It's not too late to leave.

This is mostly where I'll dramaticise my life events, record my memories to prevent having to scratch my head over when something happened or what it looked like later on, and complain. On the right, you will find numerous quick exits including my personal network, my wishlist (which doesn't load half the time - try refreshing!), my photo gallery, the blogs of the few friends I have who still keep blogs, a few other ways to keep in touch with me and other stuff like that.

Enough intro-ness? Mmkay, go do what you will. Off you trot.

A few thoughts:

Know what's lame? Being summoned for selection for jury duty twice in one week. Know what's funny? Old men who come up to you at work to say you're beautiful. Know what's sad? Technically having two parents, but feeling like you have none. Know what's cute? My furry little kitten who licks everything and can play fetch. Know what's weird? Meeting someone you've known for almost two years, 'cept not. Know what's great? BONBONS!

27 Oct 2009 by Emma 1 comments

I stopped using this again. DAMMIT.

Just woke up from a strange little dream in which my mother and I had moved into a big yellow victorian, like a Pacific Grove bed and breakfast. Very pretty. Lots of greenery about. I was rearranging my room on the second floor when she poked her head in my window (From a tree? A ledge? I don't know what she was perched on.) and told me she had lost all the pieces to her sea glass chess set. She doesn't actually own such a chess set, but it was very pretty in the dream. And she was admiring it on the roof. Hm. So I went downstairs and started hunting around the shrubberies in search of the missing pieces, which I found fairly easily. My mother warned me that the landlordess, CALLALILY, would be angered to find me crawling around in there. I rarely remember names from dreams but am so glad I remembered that... Anyway. I went to take my plastic Safeway shopping bag (Thank goodness it was Safeway and not Walmart) full of pieces and marbles and a plastic dinosaur back inside just as Lance drove up (He doesn't really drive...) with one of his friends who I have met one time. They're in a tricked out version of my mother's old Mercedes. The leather in the door occasionally stretched out until something burst through, like an umbrella or a jacket or whatever was being reached for, and then would return to looking like a normal car door. They wanted me to go somewhere with them, but I couldn't ride for more than half a block because I realized I had to go home and change my tampon. Then I woke up. I'm seeing Zombieland with these people tonight, minus the mother and plus several others. And I am, in fact, on the rag. Other than those two connections, I don't know what the hell was going on with that nonsense...

18 Oct 2009 by Emma 8246 comments

Overnight Workers

They must just rock harder in general. The last time I contacted T-Mobile's live chat support center, at nine in the morning, I got a dimwitted chick named Marilyn who didn't know what the hell was going on. I was getting 300 texts a month even though I was paying for 1000. She basically said, "Oh, I'm very sorry, I'll flag your account for the team to look into." Nothing happened. So a few days of textlessness later, I tried again at THREE in the morning. This time I got a swell fellow named Marc. ~Marc F: It looks like we added 50 messages to your bucket on September 3rd in an attempt to fix this. ~Marc F: Adding 700 messages would have made more sense. Emma Kerfoot: Heh, yes, that's for sure. ~Marc F: If it comes to that, I can do that to solve the problem. But before I jump there, I'm trying to see if there's an underlying cause that's make this error. I'd hate to "fix" it this way only to find the same thing happens next month. ~Marc F: I will just be a bit longer. Emma Kerfoot: Great, thank you! I shall do the problem-solving-happy-dance in the meantime. ~Marc F: I know that dance. It's a good one. He jokes! How awesome is that? He refunded my overages and gave me the missing texts. He also posted a memo that will remind him to check my account again at the end of my billing cycle to be sure that this doesn't happen again next month. Know what Marilyn did? NOT THAT! Marc, you're the man. Let's make babies. (Though I didn't actually tell him that, I totally did tell him that he was groovy and got major kudos and a gold star.) And on a related note, I've been given an offer to get 40 hours in four days instead of my typical 32 hours in four days. I'd have to work overnights and reset the whole domestics department with some incompetents who work in slow motion. I'd also have to completely reverse my schedule to adapt to working from 10 PM until 8 AM and then switch it back again four days later to return to my 1 PM to 10 PM normalcy. Unlike the last time I did this, I wouldn't have cool people whom I enjoy the company of on my team. Basically, I'd be miserable. For eight extra hours, that sounds pretty lame. But the overnight crew makes me laugh. And I called out for two days, so an extra eight to make up for one of those days wouldn't hurt. Plus I'd get like five days off in a row after because of the way they arrange the schedule. Same number of days off as always, just conveniently lined up next to each other. Decisions, decisions... At least I can text people about it now. You're a peach, Marc. Seriously.

07 Sep 2009 by Emma 0 comments

Why do my dreams always have to be so freaky?

[from 05/17/09 -- reposted due to the comments on the original being infected by spam.] WAH! This one was very, very, very long. It never changed into something else. It just kept going! And it was bad. Very bad. AKShfjkahfjA... And there was foreshadowing of the badness. And it never seemed like a dream because it played out more like a full length movie. And I didn't like it! The main characters involved were a husband and wife who own and live in an apartment building and their teenage daughter who is a high school drop out finally going back to school by force at a very private and religious place. I could explain a lot of randomly bizarre dream stuff, but I'll skip right to the part that caused me to wake up and wheeze. Ahem, so. One day, daughter is running late and barely getting herself ready and into her frumpy uniform to make it into school on time. The only reason she was able to wake up was a TV turned up enough to hear through the wall. Damn neighbors. She's almost run over by someone's truck as she's running down the street, but she can't see who's driving it. Either the windows are tinted or the light sucks. Something like that. But she kind of suspects that it wasn't an accident that it got so close. Meanwhile at home, husband is remodeling the bathroom. He owns the place. He can do that shit. It's already standard and just like every other bathroom in the building, so he's knocking out two walls to take the space between his bathroom and some neighboring closets. Extra foot or so on two sides. Awesome. Good for you, husband. So later on, husband has wife come in to see the finished project. She's very impressed and pleased. Being a female-y female, she appreciates a grand and luxurious bathroom. But for some reason, one of the neighboring closets had a little air vent or grate or something along the bottom of the wall. Hardly noticeable, husband put a decorative plant in front of it. He's not sure why it's there and plans to talk to the neighbors about going in and removing it. Wife shrugs at this, then notices a slight movement behind it. The two of them crouch down and peek in. It's dark and the spaces between the bars are extremely small, but after a minute their vision adjusts and they see their neighbor's young son (who looks sort of like Chunk from The Goonies) propped up in a corner, twitching, and covered in blood and vomit. He's also wearing a tupperware bowl as a hat, but I don't know if that's of any importance. Moving on. Husband and wife freeze in shock for a moment and then start running like hell to the neighbor's place while screaming the kid's name (Harold) in a full blown panic. Wife dials 911 while husband kicks down the door. They find that the whole place is trashed. Everything torn apart and even their pet cat has been slaughtered in a most gruesome and untypeable way. The parents of Harold are nowhere to be seen. Back at school, daughter is staying late for a detention. She smuggled in candy bars. When it's time for her to go, some long time friends of husband and wife show up to give her a ride home. Daughter is grateful. They all walk through the parking lot together and daughter asks them how their son Harold is doing as they point out their truck with tinted windows. Daughter frowns at this but figures it couldn't have been this particular truck and gets in anyway. Harold's eyes roll back.

16 Aug 2009 by Emma 0 comments

To eat, or not to eat?

I once went through a phase as a child when I absolutely adored jam and cheese sandwiches. Yes, folks. You heard me right! Jam. And. Cheese. It had to be thickly-cut jack cheese and strawberry jam on soft wheat bread. That was my sandwich. I lived off the damn things. Now I'm considering making one and eating it just to see if it treats me as well as it used to, but I'm a chicken when it comes to potentially disgusting food. After all, I liked a lot of weird things when I was young that I now despise. Like Babybel cheese! I made my mother buy those things by the truckload. Then after I'd pulled the little tab that opened the wax, I'd use the empty shell as a wobbly red PacMan and om nom nom the air with it. But Edam just isn't my taste anymore.

06 Jul 2009 by Emma 0 comments

The trouble with having a job...

...is that I have absolutely no free time to waste with blogging anymore.

13 Jun 2009 by Emma 0 comments

Oh, sure...

I go for MONTHS without being even the tiiiniest bit sick, MONTHS. Then as soon as I start working around people again, I get the worst fucking head cold since... since my last fucking head cold. Bah! I didn't even get sick when Scott had the flu with a 104 temperature and I was warming him up with my goddamn body heat. My nose is all dry and cracked and hard and gross. My throat feels like there's crumpled newspaper in it. And don't even get me started on my headache! I react very badly to night time cold medicine, I've discovered. Instead of suppressing my symptoms and making me tired, it just makes me feel like I'm drunk on top of being sick but without the happy feeling. I can't walk after I take this stuff. It's also my training week and I should be AT my training, making money and learning and, and... Balls.

30 May 2009 by Emma 0 comments

So, this one time...

I went to this job interview... And tried to be all charming and adorable... Which so totally worked... Because I was hired on the spot. I am employed again.

09 May 2009 by Emma 0 comments

Wow, well how about that?

Me: Rub my back! Scott: Read to me while I rub your back! Me: From what? Scott: The World Wide Pimpin' Manual! Me: ...Is there such a manual? Scott: ...No, but read to me from it anyway. Me: *grabs laptop, googles it* Scott: Are you seriously googling that? Me: Yeah, and... oh my god... Scott: What? Me: WorldWidePimpin.com, it's an online browser game. And there's a manual. Scott: AKAJHAJKFHAJK!!

07 May 2009 by Emma 0 comments

Awkwardness can be defined as:

Getting ready to kiss your boyfriend goodbye before he goes to work when suddenly someone you used to work with who still works with him appears in the doorway to pick him up for a ride to said work and you're just standing there in a silky black nightie with sex hair looking a little bit dazed.

02 May 2009 by Emma 0 comments

My bellybutton looks different.

I've also applied for fifteen jobs and am calling someone about a sixteenth tomorrow. Did Hollywood Slots put up 'do not hire' posters all over town because I quit or something? I had damn good reason, people. Six dollars an hour is not enough money to make the stress of that job worth it. The position doesn't even exist anymore! Grrrr. But I may have formed a partial solution to the whole Scott's annoying brother not doing anything situation. I wrote out a schedule spreadsheet for chores this morning and stuck it on the fridge. It evenly distributes the grunt work among the three of us on a weekly basis. Each of us does our shit and crosses it off on the list. If someone forgets to do something, they get to do it the next day regardless of whose turn it is, granting someone else a freebie, pretty much. I thought about creating some kind of bonus system for doing extra chores or having stuff done already when the next person needs to get to it, but then I started feeling like someone's stay at home mom with the minivan and the cooler full of Capri Sun, so I stopped. Yeah. In other news, Scott's birthday was yesterday. He's 24 now, hooray! He had to work all night, until after his birthday ended at 12:00 AM today, in fact. Which sucks. But we had some mushy-gushy us time for the first couple of hours from 12:00 AM yesterday until bedtime. It was nice. I wish the rest could have been as nice for him. Or nicer. The guy gets very little of what he deserves and it upsets me. I wonder if I'll ever make neat, structured blog posts with subjects that don't jump around on every paragraph. No, probably not.

19 Apr 2009 by Emma 0 comments

So I'm in Bangor now, where to begin?

To everyone's great surprise and relief, the move went fairly smoothly. Two weeks later, it's still sort of going, but we are almost all settled. Living on the third and fourth floors is kind of a bitch when you've got heavy boxes and furniture and groceries going up, but it's really more than worth it once you're done. I love this place to freaking death. Cool Shit: * Skylight * Personal stairs for Master Bedroom * Two decorative fireplaces * The cats looove everything * Very kind neighbors so far * Also a kind landlord * Big rooms * Lots and lots of windows * Hardwood floors * Right in downtown * Enough closet space for an army * Surprisingly quiet most of the time Lame Shit: * Most doors don't close properly * HARD to unlock door for laundry * Lots and lots and lots of stairs * Scott's brother lives with us too * Did I mention Scott's brother fails? Aside from having to constantly remind Scott's bitchy emo brother of what he's supposed to be doing (since he just plays video games and eats, basically), I am happy as a clam. Say, would you like to hear about my aviary adventure? Of course you would! The very first day I was here, I thought I'd get some major cleaning and unpacking done. Scott and Brian were both out, so it was the perfect opportunity. I knew there was some random leftover furniture in one of our two attic spaces left by the last people who lived here, so I decided to go take a peek and see if they'd be useful. When I poked my head into the cracked door, I saw something scurrying around. Hopping. Flying. At my face. Really fast. It was a giant Starling and it breezed through the door and just above my head before I could even tell what was going on. I'm fortunate to still have my eyes intact! It flew around on the landing for a little while, I ran into the bedroom and hid, and it eventually went up into the skylight where it trapped itself between the screen and the glass. At that point, I was starting to get over my insane panic and realized I needed to call somebody. Scott was at work, so not him. Brian was... somewhere, and I didn't have his number yet anyway, so not him. The logical answer was the landlord, Richard. But I didn't have HIS number yet either. It's on his card, but that was with Scott. It's on his website, but we didn't have internet yet. I ended up having to do my least favorite thing in the world, talking to strangers. I knocked on neighbor's doors until a Lisa finally answered and gave me Richard's number. Richard said he couldn't come help for several hours and told me to stick it out and hope the cats would get the bird. I did NOT hope the cats would get the bird. One of the cats sure did, but I did not. No, no, no. I asked my grandmother to come over and keep me company since the bird was freaking out upstairs and the fatter cat was licking his chops and staring at it. Things got more exciting when the bird decided to bust out of the screen and fly around upstairs some more. My grandmother, being awesome and less wimpy than me, managed to shut it back in the attic space from which it came! And there it remained until Richard and his little helper kid arrived with a big green net. The two of them opened the door and failed to bag the bird when it was cornered. They had to chase it around upstairs, then downstairs, from room to room. We were busy grabbing cats and chucking them out of the way. The bird ultimately crashed into the bathroom window several times and either knocked itself out or died, none of us could be sure which at the time. Richard never bothered to let me know later. They took the bird away. The end. Quite a thrill for day one when I was all alone, don't you think? Of all the times for the bird to bust out of the attic, it had to be then... I don't even know why it was there in the first place. Argh! Nothing so exciting as that has happened since, thank goodness. I just clean and decorate a lot now.

14 Apr 2009 by Emma 0 comments

NO!

I don't know who this fat old slutbag is, but the bitch is going down. Mr. Peanut is MINE, you cunt. The fact that he is tweaking your sagging boobs means nothing, because he loves me... and only me... He does! I know he does. ...

31 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments

More creepy dreams

Not a mummy, not a zombie... A partially bandaged, decaying humanoid creature that walks the night for reasons unknown. Is it a man? Eh. Is it a woman? I think so, but it doesn't really matter. Its face is almost shapeless, save for two rough holes to see with and patches of aging hair. So what does it want from us? Food? Power? The pleasure of killing? That doesn't matter either. It has incredible strength, and once it has chosen its victim, it does not change its mind. That's what my dream was about this morning. Scott and I were on the run from this... thing. Other people weren't aware of its presence even though we were hauling ass through a shopping mall in a panic with it in close pursuit. This thing always walked very slowly, but never fell behind during the chase. It's just be like... BAM! Oh, hi. You're back. Shit. It also had this little talent of unlocking Scott's car when we got in it. The creature would grab the handle, unlock it somehow, and I'd start screaming while Scott floored it and tried to shake it off. Which sort of worked. The door would fly open, the creature would be thrown onto the road... But as soon as I could slam the door closed and lock it again, it would be back. This happened several times because the whole dream replayed. It started from the point of us exiting the mall to get to the car each time. And each time, I did something different here, sort of realizing that I did something wrong the last time. I'd quickly steal a muted jacket to throw on instead of the rainbow garb I snatched before. I'd weave through obstacles more. Blah, blah. But in the end, we crashed the car into something and Scott was knocked out. The creature unlocked the car door, and I screamed and screamed and screamed as it leaned over me. Then I woke up. Still not sure if it was going to eat me or what, but it seemed like that was the case. Bleh. I think I really was doing that silent scream thing in my sleep. Though it was the very loud, voice killing scream in my dream. Did not like. I had another dream earlier in the night about some woman's creepy store in the same mall where she modified people's eyes to have colors and sparkles and pinwheels and other weird effects. She told me how to be granted a wish in a way that made it sound like I'd be doomed if I actually did it. It involved offering a gift and praying to someone with a funny name... I forget. Meh. That is all. ...Signed the lease yesterday, yay?

29 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments

The little things that make a day a happier

Aren't those great? Like when you're sitting in the waiting room at the dentist's office filling out a ridiculous set of paperwork that requests your signature and date of birth many more times than should be necessary (ten and six, approximately) and one of those super trendy asian girls (oh, you know the ones - they sometimes pop up in street fashion articles in magazines) grabs your attention to compliment your outfit. Golly, really? You like my shirt? Thank you, I sewed it myself! Yes, that's right. Aw, shucks. Your clothes are really cute too! Then you see her everywhere for the remainder of the time you're there, grin at each other across the room while you're both getting x-rays done... Shit, man. I should have asked her her name. But then there are those little things that make a day a lot more miserable. Like finding out that the x-rays you had done last month at the doc-in-the-box aren't good enough now that you're at a legitimate dental practitioner and you have to get about twenty more done, all of which you gag on. (Plus side: At least April, my x-ray chick, was super nice about it. She didn't look all pissy when I repeatedly gagged on and spat out the gargantuan plastic death card. She just gave me more "cherry" spray and hushed my apologies.) Then there's also getting your second period of the month. Yeah, about two weeks after my March period, I got another March period! Oh boy, oh boy! Now listen here, uterus. You seem to have your schedule a little missed up. THAT IS FUCKING EARLY, WHAT THE FUCK, YOU ARE A DUMB SHIT, DIE. Here I am, in pain, again. And I'm not even supposed to be yet. This is when my non-agonizing vacation takes place. Goddammit. (Plus side: I definitely won't be on my period on moving day now, which I was afraid I would be. Cool. Also, that shaves some time off of my monthly 'Hm, so I wonder if that 4% failure rate for my method of birth control is going to bite me in the ass THIS time' paranoia.) So yeah, ups and downs... But here comes the cool stuff! I am starting a business. Yes, you heard me correctly. A business. I am starting one. A web design business. And it's about time I did! I posted an ad on Craigslist to see if I could get an interested websiteless person or two locally, since I'm fairly decent at remedying that. I ended up with three such people, plus some potential overflow work. Within a DAY. This suggested a need to me. So then I looked at the web design services in Bangor and the surrounding areas.... They all suck balls. Ah, yes, there's the need. Gotcha. And now I'm making my own. The main difference between mine and theirs is that I actually know what I'm doing because I have the knowledge and experience. Therefore, I rock. I've always been open to doing designs for money, and have in the past. But I hadn't really considered launching an actual, legitimate business. I've had everything I needed this whole time. I could kick myself for waiting this long! Hello, world. I am pleased to introduce... Kerfoot Studios ...Yeah, there's nothing there yet, but there will be. I've got a lot to do! I'm still open for business. The contract is written up, the rates are established, blahblah. (I'm waiting on responses from a couple of interested customers as this is being written.) But the site is still under construction. Business is going through Fanciful Languor for the time being, unfortunately. That means people considering buying my service can see my blogs about periods and dentistry if they dare to click on my blog, yikes. All the more reason to speed up production on Kerfoot Studios.

26 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments

Ch-ch-changes. Also, drama!

Awkward, irritating, difficult, and shitty changes. Y'know, to be more precise. Yeah. The first one being that Cassandra is no longer going to be our roommate! Scott's brother is, Brian. Cassandra backed out because she didn't want to put her mentally retarded boyfriend with a thing for drugs and acts of domestic violence in danger. Yes, that's right. She couldn't stand to leave the guy who beats her. So we were almost doomed until Scott's wonderfultastic mother said she'd pay for Brian to live with us until he finds employment and becomes a fully-fledged roomie. So yes, we still have our big, beautiful apartment. Another change is that I have once again been forced to cut off my lying bitch of a mother because she is a lying bitch. This is something I should have expected when she told me she was hiding the fact that she had invited her ex-boyfriend to visit from Wisconsin where he enjoys fapping to chicks with dicks and whining about everything and misspelling the word 'banana' despite being a so-called 'chef,' but I have this stupid tendency to think positively about my mother. Scott and I went over on Friday afternoon. Aside from the guy acting like a holier than thou asshole about absolutely everything, it was an enjoyable evening. Scott got to learn how to make panna cotta and ravioli from scratch. There was a rocking wine and cheese appetizer hour, and anything called Drunken Goat is a win with me. We played Clue and had to pause the game to have a semi-buzzed guffaw over how filthy "Mrs. PEACOCK in the BALLROOM with the PIPE" sounds. There was some stripper dance time set to Short Skirt / Long Jacket which is now on video. But it all went to hell when asshole revealed his true intentions which my mother had previously sworn on her life against, multiple times, with witnesses. She said, and I quote, "Oops." This is the guy who almost punched me in the face when I was a little girl. Yeah, good choice. Emma pissed? Muchly. Then she sided with asshole instead of apologizing to me. Emma more pissed? You're damn fucking right. So that makes for some heavy complications in the moving plan, but it'll all work out. Bah.

22 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments

Woohoo!

Guess who got their dream apartment anyway? Me and Scott and Cassandra! The two story apartment of largeness with the two fireplaces and two attic spaces and two staircases! It's ours! We move in on April 1st. Gazillions of pictures abound. Check back in two weeks. Time for me to make a housewarming gift registry on Amazon and a wish list on Freecycle...

14 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments

No!

Every time I see this ad on television, which seems to happen during every single commercial break, I begin to scream. Like this, "AAAHHHH!" and then I leap up and switch the channel, sometimes injuring myself in the process. Owwie, my elbow hurts...

09 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments

And then we stuffed some dollar bills down his pants...

Okay, so! Waking up at six in the morning after roughly five hours of sleep sucks. It sucks a lot. And it wasn't even worth it! Actually, the result made me thoroughly upset. See, we went to the first apartment at seven. And it... was... fabulous. Right in downtown, close to places for me to work, a big brick building. The apartment itself was two stories with huge rooms, really nice. I love having stairs in my house! $950 a month with utilities included, okay for the three of us. BUT they don't allow small dogs. Jonathan has a small dog. I HATE JONATHAN AND HIS SMALL DOG! Goddammit. I wanted that apartment so much. ASKJFHKJFHAJSfas. The next one we looked at was too small. The third one we looked at was filthy and broken. We did not find a place to live. Suck, suck, suck. BUT... there is hope. The guy who showed us the first apartment, my dream apartment, said he has one he will be able to show us a week or two from now. And if it belongs to the owner of the dream apartment, it can't be half bad, right? Right. So we are going to call him next Thursday and see what's up. Yay! Mmmm. After apartment-ing for the day, Scott and I went grocery shopping and headed over to my mom's house for the night. That part was... yeah, wow. First of all, Mr. Beep loves Scott. That is bizarre. He immediately became all attached and snuggly. And it's not just Mr. Beep! Lulu loves Scott, Gray-kitty loves Scott (she slept on him all night), and my mom loves Scott. Mom and Scott hadn't really had a chance to find out just how well they'd hit it off before last night. They drank Irish Car Bombs, cooked, baked, laughed a LOT, listened to music... I watched and was greatly amused. The pasta they came up with was friggin' awesome. All veggie-y and alfredo-y. She taught him to make olive bread. He baked his first Guinness Chocolate Cheesecake. ...He also wrote "BALLSACK ON YOUR FACE" on it in sugar letters and made a pair of balls out of nilla wafers coated in peanut butter with some chocolate jimmies sprinkled on top. It's beautiful. After all the eating and guzzling (except for me, I had milked up Kahlua and Bailey's, each very slowly.), we were going to sit down and watch Blade Runner. But then we all wanted to sleep. Rightfully so. So we did! Next day, we played A Christmas Story Monopoly (out of season, eh) with Mr. Beep, who beat all three of us by far. He had dice placed atop his nose which he would shake off to roll. Mm-hm. So all in all, it was a pretty darn good weekend. Super fun shit. Lots more adventures inbetween, but way too much to describe. But trust me, it rocked.

07 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments

High hopes, holy cow!

Scott and Jonathan and I are going to go looking for apartments tomorrow. Yes, apartments. Places to live which are neither here nor there, but somewhere completely new and all our own! It's exciting. The tricky part is finding a cheap place in the area that accepts both cats and dogs. We have ten possibilities listed out from the internet which Scott is calling at this very moment. If all ten are duds, we are also taking my laptop with us tomorrow for the hardcore, down and dirty hunt. Some are little places just for me and Scott, and some are 2+ bedroom possibilities for Jon and maybe even a fourth to join us. We will see. But I am feeling very optimistic about this now. Among our assets are a pop-up toaster and a purple vinyl beanbag chair. Yeah. This apartment is gonna rock people's socks off. You just wait.

05 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments

Reasons why I'm cool:

I keep my candy bars in the same basket I keep my unmentionables in. Yes, that's right. Chocolate and panties. This isn't meant to sexualize the munchies in any way, I just ran out of baskets and I like putting things in things. And having my True Delights raspberry chocolate granola next to my lacy bits? It looks so luxurious. Whenever I see a scented perfume ad while I'm reading a magazine, I rip it out and cut off the scented part and put it in a pile on the makeup-y part of my vanity. I actually rub these all over myself later because it works just as well as spritzing and I'm way too cheap to buy real perfume. I get about twelve a month, so I can smell good almost every other night! If you ever need a piece of gum, a pair of scissors, a band-aid, a ball point pen, a sharpie, a Tide-to-Go pen, a deck of playing cards, a tampon, a sewing kit, a notepad, a hair tie, a scrunchie, a bobby pin, an odd bit of change, extra AA batteries, Kleenex, a camera, or a cell phone... I have all of the above in my purse at all times. Organized! I save the day so often, it's fucking ridiculous. I have a Lite-Brite, I have a Lite-Brite, neener neener nee-ner, and it's a travel Lite-Brite that runs on batteries I can use anywhere, ha ha ha ha haaaa-ha! Nine out of every ten times I get dressed and leave the house, I'm wearing some really crazy socks underneath my smart ensemble. It's like, oh, black, brown, navy, she's so coordinated, my my my... but wait! What are those sticking out the top of her expensive designer boots? Rainbow toe socks! You should try it, people. It really makes your day happier. I've had this little can of cocktail wieners which Penny gave me for a Christmas joke for more than five years. I will have it forever. She and I and her sister were walking around discussing what we all wanted for Christmas and that somehow came up. We all had a giggle, but then she actually got me some. It was great. I have a couple of collections which some people might consider to be... odd, but I take great pride in. Well, not really. Maybe for one of them. I collect Mr. Peanut memorabilia (especially vintage), I collect stuffed moose plushies, I collect dead batteries in a huge pickle jar... You know, I think perhaps I shouldn't list them all out. That's good enough. Every year on Easter Sunday, I wear a pair of fluffy bunny ears for the entire day while making eggstra eggstraordinarily eggsasperating egg puns. Eg(g)ad. I've told Scott about this, who I am making dye eggs and watch the Charlie Brown special with me, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he is dreading it. Bwa-ha. That tampon I mentioned? Really only for emergencies. I'm all greenish and eco-friendly, so I use a DivaCup. It's super cool. It's super silicone. It's super reusable for at least ten years. This saves the environment from some pollution and saves me from some money loss. Also, I got it on a discount with a promo code given to me personally by a dominatrix. Makes it more interesting. ...More reasons later.

01 Mar 2009 by Emma 0 comments