Things Not To Say In Therapy:

Heath: I guess I do do that sometimes.

Me: Did you just say that you doo-doo?

Eat My Leftovers, Eat My Shit: A Choose Your Own Adventure Meal

Me: I’m so happy to be home! Time for my awesome pizza leftovers!

Heath: Um…I ate them…

Me: No you didn’t! *opens fridge*

Me: WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY LEFTOVERS?!!!

Heath: I just told you, I ate them.

So, now what? This goes on all the time and nothing is ever resolved. I finally, in a fit of rage and anger, came up with a solution…I says to him, I says:

“The next time I put leftovers in the fridge, I am going to put a little piece of my poo in them. Then you will learn.”

This seems to work. Maybe only if you are bat-shit insane enough to actually do it. (Which I am [and Heath seems to know this]).

Try it on your boyfriend/girlfriend/roommate or whoever it is that eats your leftovers. Just a helpful hint at taste bud joy from your friend, Emily Illinois. XOXO!

I'm Not Putting That There...Oh Wait, I Just Did.

The first time I used a tampon was unremarkable. I was going to a dance and my friend gave me one. I had about as much fun that night as I ever had at a school dance: none. But it did start a better life for me, full of tampons and menstruation fun.


My sister on the other hand has a better story. The first time she used a tampon she imagined it sucking up all the fluid in her body. She then threw up and got to stay home from school.


I wish that happened to me.

This Was Found Floating In My Head

I used to work at a photo development store. The owner would sometimes keep copies of pictures that were weird or funny, even though it was probably illegal or something. Mainly he kept pictures of naked women or people doing stupid shit. Even though it was ten years ago, I can’t get these two pictures out of my head. I decided to badly reproduce them here for your enjoyment. You’re welcome.






And I censored these because I didn’t feel like showing you how badly I draw body parts. You’re welcome again.

And Then I Walked Away

This happened at work the other day while I was leaving my register.


Customer: “I was worried that you weren’t old enough to ring up all this wine I’m buying.”

Me: “No, I’m twenty-eight, definitely old enough.”

Customer: “Yeah, I was gonna say, if you were seventeen, you’d look like shit.”


I’m sensitive about my age now. And my face.