The best way to deal with my bullshit

Whenever I say something bad about myself in front of my boyfriend this is what happens:

Me: Ugh. My face looks stupid today.

My boyfriend: Don't you EVER talk about my girlfriend like that.

This is probably the best deflection from my self-hate that has ever happened. He's a keeper.

I'm drinking cheap-ass beaujolie nouveau in case you were wondering.

I got rained on today, which seemed pretty shitty, but sort of okay. But then, right after I ate a burger, my stupid anti-depressant made me feel like I was going to barf. All. Over. Which was still okay, cuz I'm used to it, and I'm dedicated to not feeling like complete shit from chronic depression.


So, I'm getting freezing cold rain on me and I feel like I have to barf.


Fine. Fine. Fine.


Then I'm waiting for my bus, and my super smart phone tells me that it's gonna be a while. Okay. So, I light up a cigarette. Then this guy, maybe around my age, maybe a tad younger, tells me that he has the 'deal of the night, an offer you can't refuse' for me. Okay, he had me at 'deal'. So, I'm listening. He tells me that if I give him a cigarette, he'll give me a brand newish Bic lighter. I tell him that it does, indeed, sound like the deal for me. I give him a smiggidy smoke, and tell him that they're ultra lights, he then tells me that I should give him two...I only gave him one, cuz I'm stingy like that. Then he stands too close to me, maybe got spit in my eye (maybe it was the rain?) and tries to flirt, but I think he was too high (like on POT!), I know this because he asked me if I wanted to smoke pot. (I didn't because I don't trust strangers at all, and he may have had the herp...How do I know?). Anyway, I did discover that he was from Tennessee and basically temporarily homeless, and he tried to get me to invite him to my place (I DIDN'T, THANKYOUVERYMUCH). Then I got on my bus, because that was my plan from the beginning.


I'm a fucking bitch because I'm complaining about being hit on. I KNOW!


Then I got home. It smelled like ass up in this apartment. So, of course, I gave Jack some dirty looks. I was all like, "SHIT Jack! Where did you poo? Why did you poo?! PLEASEDON'TLETITBEONTHECARPET!"


But quickly, I realized that it was some stupid garbanzo beans that were rotting in my fridge, that I put on the counter last night, and forgot to throw away. So, I opened the stupid tupperware to throw them away, and pretty much spent the next five minutes trying not to throw-up all over. My face even turned red and Jack ran away. After I finished retching and panicking from how much my body was aching to barf and cry from the smell of rotten beans, I then had Major Diarrhea (and every time I talk about diarrhea I call it 'Major', just so you know). Don't worry. I made it to the toilet.


My boyfriend just walked in the door (as I was writing this), made a face, and asked me if I farted. I told him to read my blog.


And THIS is what I call "A Day in the Life of Emily Illinois".

a stupid interaction tonight

Me: Ramon! Look! Look at Shirley Temple tap!

Ramon looks up from playing WOW

Ramon: Don't care.

Favorite Thanksgiving dinner quote:

Babz is my sister.


"Babz...loves...fat girls?!..."

Where the fuck is my muse? Oh, it's somewhere in that bottle of whine...

Now that I've been laying off the vino more or less, I've found that the muse doesn't take me as much. This, in my mind, is a bit of a bad thing. Am I one of those writers who's creativity is influenced by self-destruction and chaos? I'm thinking; probably...

How bad is it to have 2 glasses of wine and go to town on the internet though? I mean, really...I do have a lot of fun...

The Right Choice

There are a few things that would make me abort a fetus. One of them is finding out that it was Republican.

A Note for the Ladies

Hey girls. Let's all just promise each other to stop saying that a vagina is like a 'self-cleaning oven'. Because it's not. It's like a vagina. It's been in use for hundreds of thousands of years. Doing what it does. Taking care of itself. Oven's haven't even been around for that long.

Maybe ovens are like a vagina? Just putting that out there...

But seriously, vagina's are like vagina's and they do what they do. Whether or not it is 'self cleaning' is really up to the owner, but comparing a vagina to an oven really sets women back (into the kitchen, bitches) in some small way. And annoys the shit out of me.

Let's say that a vagina is like a ninja, or a renegade, or a one-man-band, or a FUCKING VAGINA. A vagina stands alone motherfuckers.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Thanks for nothing, meat.

Now that I've started eating meat again I have noticed at least one change: my nails grow faster and are stronger than ever.

I like the stronger part. But I hate cutting my nails. I used to have to cut them like, once a month (I like to keep 'em short), but now I'm cutting them every week and that's even after I put it off...This is some annoying shit. I guess that means that I'm healthier, but I feel like a dumbass, I keep poking shit and scratching shit accidentally. I'm like an idiot who never had nails before.

Long nails make me want to barf. But cutting them takes out of my drinking/eating/interneting time. I know what I have to do. But I will probably put it off for another day.

Hey, motherfucking squirrels!

About a year after I moved into my apartment I accidentally left my back door open and a squirrel ran into my apartment. My landlord and I spent ten panic-filled minutes chasing it around with brooms until it somehow ran back outside.

Still, I didn't hate the squirrels. I just hated myself. Until this summer.

This summer was different. This summer my backyard was full of insane, half-tame squirrels. City Squirrels. They get too close. They have no Shame.

They live in my upstairs neighbors potted plants, harassing her, making her fear to leave her apartment. When I'm in my yard, they come right up to me. One fucking foot away. I hiss. I stomp. I charge. They still come back. WHAT THE FUCK?! Right?

So, this coming spring I have a plan.

This spring, I am going to buy a fucking squirt gun. Super Soaker style. And every time I'm outside I'm going to spray them. I bet they'll learn fast to stay THE FUCK away. I'll train them how to be feral again, and at the same time, improve my aim. Really, it's a win-win situation and no one gets hurt.

I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner.

People are stupid, probably.

One of my friends thinks that some skank her ex is/was with, will come into her work. I told her not to worry because she has a knife on her at all times (part of her job), and that anyone with half a brain would be smart enough to stay away.

Usually people are not that smart though.

A promise to my future children (but not yours):

I spend a lot of time thinking about my Future Children. I mean A LOT. I hope they will someday realize this and understand that even though they will technically be 'unplanned pregnancies', they were actually thought about very much, even before they were a twinkle in their fathers eye. I don't know if that kinda makes them sort of planned, but WHATEVER.

So, I have a lot of bad habits.

I mean like, a lot.

And one of them consists of eating TONS of ramen noodles. This is probably one of the least bad, of my bad habits. I justify the salt consumption by never drinking the 'broth'. Seriously. I don't drink used hot juices...GROSS. Or used cereal milk for that matter (but that's a blog for a different day).

I'm dumb enough to binge on ramen noodles. And I'm really into 'instant' gratification (PUN!!!), so, basically, I can't stop. But I'm also smart enough to realize, very clearly, that ramen noodles are fucking bad for you (me), and probably shouldn't even exist for consumption.

So, this is my promise to my future children: I will probably, in secret, eat ramen noodles. Probably a lot. But you will never eat them. Not until you can go buy them for yourself. And I will tell you that they taste like hot worms taking a bath in salt-water, to discourage you from eating them. Hopefully for your entire life. I will also pretend to like raw celery and carrots to get you to eat them. YOU'RE WELCOME FUTURE CHILDREN!

CLICK HERE-will ya?

I was too late...

I was walking Jackson Corndog today after work, when a little dog came running up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me and Jack. Sometimes a few people around here, for some stupid reason, walk their dogs without leashes, but I didn't see anyone around.

So, I try to get this dog to follow us. But he just barks. And I'm like 'oh shit I don't know what to do'. So, I'm calling him like a freak and he is just yapping and cars are going by and I'm freaking out. So, I run Jack home, grab his leash off of him, fly back out the door and take off down the sidewalk only to see a car stopped in the middle of the road and a guy standing, looking in front of his car, and I hear a dog yelping.

He's like, 'Do you have a dog?'

I'm like, 'That's not my dog...Did you hit him? Is he okay?'

All I'm thinking is: 'SHIT FUCK. I SHOULD HAVE PICKED THE DOG UP OR SOMETHING...now I have to look at a dead dog and find some neighbor person and tell them their dog is dead SHIT FUCK'.

Then the guy is like, 'I ALMOST HIT HIM! I was going to take him. Do you want to take him?'

So, this guy has this dog on the floor in the back of his car and I'm trying to get the leash on him when this woman walks over and is all like, 'Do you have my dog?' And we're all like 'Yeah.' And the guy tells her that he almost hit the dog, and the lady just looks at her dog and is like, 'Oh Frankie, you so stupid!'

Then we realize the dog crapped in his back seat.

Then I walked away.

The old man routine?

I was about to ring an older gentleman up for some wine today when he stopped me and asked, "Are you old enough to ring this up?"

I replied, "Oh, indeed, I am more, MORE, than old enough."

And he said, "Then I want what you've been drinking."

I assured him that it was red wine every night and a high salt diet, lots of dark chocolate, lots of swearing, and a loud refusal to act proper and dignified.

I don't know if he believed me or not.

Age is hard on a woman...

I wish I had written this:

Click ABOVE to go to there.

Jackson Corndog

My boyfriend has a dog named Jack, which he (my boyfriend), got drunk a week ago and tried to give me. I told him that he was insane. But what he doesn't know is that I already own at least 3 and a half of his (Jack's) paws; mainly because I take him for walks and buy him treats and let him lick my arm and stuff.

This is Jack:



This is how I see Jack:




Jack also likes to cross his paws all fancy style. My boyfriend says that he "Don't raise no 'mo's" but I like Jack even more for it. I don't like it when he (Jack) sneezes on my face. The end.

The nature of the season

As a kid, I used to be up all night with bloody noses. Hours spent in the bathroom bleeding out.

And every few winters or so, I get to relive it.

Winter has come early this year. And, my bathroom garbage-can looks like a crime scene.

I think I'm probably too old for this...

In retrospect, I should have locked the door...

This morning I was in the bathroom.
My boyfriend comes running in, no knock (yeah, he usually knocks or SOMETHING).
Then he just starts telling me stuff.
And I'm instantly all like, "DUDE! I'M POOING!"
He just looks at me sitting there AND KEEPS TELLING ME SHIZ!
So, I'm all like, 'okay. i guess we just poo in front of each other now? um...?'
Yeah, I'm not all that comfortable with it either.
Eventually I had to interrupt him and was just like, "Okay, can we talk about this in a few minutes? I'm totally sitting here and WAS pooing when you came in and this is weird..."
I'll admit, I was either too sober, or not drunk enough to handle this whole 'let's talk while you poo' morning.
He, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed...

Yeah, we work

my boyfriend: Emily...I don't know how you'll feel about this...but I think...I want to start wearing spandex...

me: Uh...what...why?

my boyfriend: For biking. It would be easier on my taint!


what I should have said: Tell that to your balls!

what I did say: Ummm...?