Thursday, April 28, 2011

A timeline of unfortunate events

2.40am- My boyfriend and I go to bed.

2.43am- My boyfriend falls asleep. I am still awake.

2.44am- My boyfriend starts snoring.
Me: *whispering* "Hey, roll over..."

2.46am- My boyfriend starts snoring again.
Me: *still whispering* "Hey, you're still snoring. Roll over..."

3.30am- More snoring wakes me up.
Me: "Lay on your side. You're snoring. Lay on your side."

4.00am- Seriously?!
Me: "You need to lay flat on your stomach. IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE SNORING.
Lay on your stomach."

4.30am- I wake myself up coughing. Did I mention that I'm sick? Oh, yeah, I'm sick. So, I go
take a cough suppressant and go back to bed...

5.00am- Guess who's snoring again. Hint: not me.
Me: "I'm going to stab you."
My boyfriend: "Wha? Stab...Wha?"
Me: "I'm GOING TO STAB YOU."
My boyfriend: "Your mom's going to stab YOU."
Me: "SLEEP ON YOUR FUCKING STOMACH."

I'm tired.
And yet...I still, somehow, love him...

Monday, April 25, 2011

I was a telemarketer for 3 weeks once

Back in my day there was this telemarketing business in my hometown. It was a total rip-off to the people we called, and to the employees that worked there. Big surprise right?

I'm not too proud to admit that I telemarketed for a few weeks of my young life once...

There was a binder of things we were allowed to say to people. They were called 'rebuttals' and they were specific and dumb.

The best one always goes through my head, even years later, because it was so humiliating for everyone involved:


Potential person getting ripped off: "This seems too good to be true! What's the catch?"

Me: "The catch is Red Snapper, and we're fresh out."


Imagine me saying it slowly and completely deadpan, no emotion in my voice what-so-ever. Yes, yes, yes. So perfect. Oh, to be 17 again...

Monday, April 11, 2011

Burlesque me no questions

If you knew me quite well, you would find it at least a little weird that I started taking burlesque classes. I know that I think it's totally fucking weird. I went into this not knowing very much about burlesque. I guess that it's basically classy stripping. But more positive, and more fun.

I don't REALLY know though, because I've never been to a burlesque show, and I kind of doubt that I ever will go to one...Who knows though, because I never, not even in a month of Sundays, ever thought that I would be taking a class like this.

AND NO, I do not get naked in this class. EW.

It's basically learning a few moves like sexy walking and 'bumping', 'grinding', and 'shimmying', all of which I can barely do (and some of which I can't do AT ALL [seriously]), in case you were curious. But being out of my element is kind of fun. And thinking about burlesque in the olden days makes me feel all black-and-white-movie about myself. So, that's pretty cool.

The only thing is that you're supposed to be all bouncy about everything that you do, and I've spent the best part of my life trying to NOT be bouncy. Eh, I just hate to jiggle, it doesn't feel awesome. I think that's normal behavior, but I'm being forced to go against the norm.

The only other real problem that I have in this class is the mirror. I know that's totally stereotypical (but also, not really), you see, every time that I'm trying to be serious about my skillz I end up glancing at my stupid face in the mirror, then turn into a ham. I can't keep a straight face to save my life.

But, sometimes you just gotta change it up bitchez.
Everyone should probably take some weird class that they wouldn't normally be interested in.
And that's my advice for the day.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Open Letter: To People With Babies

Dear People With Babies,

First off, you should know that I fucking LOVE the shit out of babies, AND children. I really, really do. I like trying to make them laugh, I like watching them interact, I like playing with them and listening to their insane stories. I even enjoy trying to figure out what the hell they're trying to say when they aren't making any god-damned sense. I truly can say that I get a real kick out of kids. I even want to have a pup or two somewhat soonish. It's a short term goal.

You need to know that I really, REALLY LOVE KIDS. Because what I am going to say next is going to make me sound like a hater.

There is no excuse for some of the things that you People With Babies put others through, specifically; me.

I do not care if your kid is running around a little. (Kids forget rules all the time, that's why we call them kids and not adults). I do not care if your kid doesn't say 'please and thank you' (kids don't understand social norms). I do not even care if your kid is having a fit (that's your problem, so you figure it out).

What I DO FUCKING CARE ABOUT is when you let your kid chew on shit in your shopping cart and then when I go to scan it, I GET FUCKING SPIT AND SLOBBER (AND ONE TIME BARF) ALL OVER MY FUCKING HANDS.

Now, you might say, "Oh, don't freak out, it's just a baby", yeah, I totally understand that, but it's not MY FREAKING BABY and NOT MY FRIEND'S BABY. It's just somebody's baby who may or may not have a contagious disease. Babies do have diseases. It's a god-damned sad fucking fact in this world.

So, when I get your kids expectoration all over my hands, I often-times am stuck on a register for an hour, sometimes longer. YOU ARE RUDE AND I CAN'T JUST GO HOP OFF AND WASH MY HANDS. That means that I have to touch the next persons stuff with spit on my hands. THIS MAKES ME AND THE CDC VERY UNHAPPY. I am working in retail, and getting paid for retail work, not working and getting paid to deal with bio-hazards THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

I am busy wondering why people are so rude. If I put spit on something and made you pick it up, you would probably either punch me or tell my boss on me. So, WTF PEOPLE? Also, and this is a fact; I know that the packages of almost everything are super dirty and have, at the very least, been on a floor. I take stuff out of boxes for a living, and my hands often get quite dirty just from opening and shelving a box or two of whatever. Think about what you're letting your kid put in it's mouth for a god-damned second. Then remember to bring a semi-clean toy for your little peanut to occupy itself with.

When your kid has a sloppy nose, I give you a kleenex. Don't hand me stuff with a bunch of spit on it. Stop being rude.

Social tips for parents from an anti-social, non-parent.
With love and rage,
emily illinois

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Snarky little peanuts

I, for some reason, have been pretty sick, on and off, for basically this whole past month. (Probably most of the reason why I haven't been inspired to post lately).

AND, I've been in a bad mood for the past two hours. Partly due to Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty...Maybe...

And my boyfriend just picked one of my prescription bottles up off the counter and (referring to my middle initial which is "B"), says to me, he says, "What does the 'B' stand for?"

I instantly yell, "BITCH!!!"

It's like a smooth-rollin' comedy duo up in here.