Monday, January 24, 2011

REPOST: Open Letter: To Hibernation

Dear Hibernation,

I am busy sitting here trying to understand you. I am doing this because I feel a deep need to hibernate right now, but I am not even sure what that means exactly. I learned about hibernation in grade school, but it was not as fascinating then as it seems to be now.

I am pretty sure that cold blooded creatures like me cannot hibernate. I perch on my heated rock under a sun-lamp on cold days like these. As I sit there, I dream of hibernation. To be a raccoon or some kind of bear and hibernate all through the winter, only to wake up a couple of times to eat some fish or garbage or whatever it is that animals eat, that would be the life. And that is all that I remember learning about you.

I think it would be cool to tell people that I was hibernating. At work they would say, "How was your day off?" and I would reply, "Oh, you know, I just hibernated, like usual." I think that would really impress people at work. At least more than saying, "Oh, you know, I was just thinking about hibernation." If I had to say that, they would think I was a total loser. (And I am not).

Anyway, I just hate winter and being cold. I am wishing for you, hibernation, but I am not some kind of weird, it’s just never gonna happen. It’s one of those things I talk about, but will never be able to do. Oh well.

Hibernating is so sciencey,

Emily Illinois

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Water Boat With Water Fowl Hopefully Not in Foul Water...

Thrift store findz! ♥

I saw my future

Do you ever do something and then think about how doing that same thing will suck when you get old?

Like, every time I flush a toilet in a public bathroom, I use my foot to hit the handle and flush the toilet. No matter how high up the flusher is, I will chorus-line kick myself into a strained muscle to not have to touch the handle or deal with possible splash-up from the water swirling...Every time I do this routine I think to myself, "Way to go Self! You dominated this toilet!" Then I think, "What the fuck am I going to do when I'm all old and unable to maneuver my shit like this?" Then this overwhelming fear/sadness ensues. Right there in some skanky bathroom.

And last night the same thing happened in my own bathroom. But in a slightly different way.

I was getting out of the shower, and every time I get out of the shower I hate to have my wet feet touch the ground in any way. Whether there is a clean towel there or it's just the tiles or whatever. So, I'm standing there contorting myself to try to dry off my feet before I get out of the shower and I'm almost falling over and I realize that there will come a time in my future where I won't be able to behave in this irresponsible, contortive, slippery and dangerous way anymore. And my wet feet will HAVE to touch the ground. There's a metaphor there somewhere. But I'm too lazy.


A fowl. Owl.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

A deer, dear

My fartpartment

When my boyfriend moved in with me he brought something I had never had before: a little dog. Jack is his name, and farting is his game.

Jack is a farting master. He can stink up a room in about ten seconds. Everyday I lay on the couch and pet him, and everyday he farts in my face. And his farts aren't normal, they stink like regular dog poo x10. Probably because we feed him this 'no filler' type of food, but, jeebus his farts stink. And they linger. You might be thinking, 'Why is this girl going on and on about dog-farts?' The answer to that is: this is my life now, it's an everyday thing. AND IT ANNOYS ME! The only way I can deal with it is by knowing that Jack is 12 years old and should be allowed to fart his head off at his old age...

But, there is a "Gas Competition" going on here. For every Jack Fart, my boyfriend matches it with either one fart or about three burps. I'm surprised I'm even able to be alive with all this gas swirling around in here. It's bad. I mean, there will be times that I'm cleaning the kitchen and I'll leave the room to put something away, then when I'm about to go back in, my boyfriend will be standing in front of the kitchen and physically stop me and be all like, 'you can't go in there' and then I'm all like, 'yes I can dude, I'm cleaning the kitchen' and he inevitably says, 'NO. I farted in there!' Then I have to wait forever to finish what I was doing. He says that I have some retarded magical power to need something from where-ever he just farted. I say that it's a small apartment and he just farts everywhere all the time.

And it's not like I don't fart or burp, I totally do, but it's just not a constant stream of smells and loudness every 10 minutes THANKYOUVERYMUCH!

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Just a past conversation

This popped into my head yesterday. It's a conversation that happened between me and my ex probably around a year or so ago. It really makes me appreciate what I have now.

Me: I feel like you never look at me. Do you even notice that I'm here?

Him: Maybe I would pay more attention to you if you had a movie playing on your face.

And yes, that did make me cry.
I'm so glad that whole relationship is dead and over with.

Monday, January 10, 2011

The oldfactory

I smelled something the other day. Something delicious. And the only category I could place that smell in was "Rich-Man's-Wife". Then I was like, well, if that's what a rich man's wife smells like, then what do I smell like? That's when I realized that when I'm not smelling like B.O. and garlic, I usually go for "Stripper-Smell", which is a flowery, perfumey smell. It's fun, it's easy and yes, it's cheap. Oh, you want to know what a rich man's wife smells like, right? Well, the perfume she wears lingers, it's complicated, and the expensiveness of it gets stuck in your nose.

And when I thought about what exactly I would WANT to smell like, I realized that I really prefer "Powerful-Lesbian-Who-Pulls-In-6-Figures"...That's really the one that stands out the most...

There are so many interesting smells. Dare you to notice.

Friday, January 7, 2011

A simple trip

My mom came to visit me recently. Here is the phone conversation after she got on the train to come see me:

Mom: Hi Honey! It's so funny! That guy who takes your money...Um...In the hat!...

Me: The conductor, mom?

Mom: Yeah! Ha! He asked me which stop I was getting off at and I suddenly couldn't remember! I'm such a scatter-brain! He said that he would just come back! Isn't that funny?

Me: Oh. Jeeze. I can't believe you don't know which stop to get off at...Did you write it down--

Mom: I'm going to have to run to the bathroom in a minute here...

Me: Okay, just make sure you bring your bags in the bathroom with you.

Mom: Why? They're heavy.

Me: Because--you don't want anyone to steal them. You're not being serious right?

Mom: Nobody'd want these heavy bags! Besides they'd feel really bad because there's a book of bible verses in there.

Me: They probably wouldn't care about the bible if they're already stealing...Seriously...Listen, just don't leave your bags alone. Okay?


Me: Are you being serious? Are you having this conversation on the phone on the train? ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS? Is this conversation really happening?! SERIOUSLY?!

Don't worry kids. Things got better as time went on. My freakout slowly dwindled, kind of...Wish you were here! HA HA ha ha ha!