Monthly Archives: April 2009

someday, when I'm awfully low

Dear Prudence is one of my favorite things ever. I believe it comes out once a week, but it seems like years – decades even – between each new article.

If you’re not familiar with Dear Prudence, I strongly recommend you go read all of the back articles right now. Do it. I can wait.

Ok, now that you’re appreciating the wonderfulness of her advice, the fine line she walks between funny and useful, read this:

Dear Prudence:
I did something recently that concerns me on many levels. I am under a large amount of stress because I’m in an unhappy marriage (which we’re trying to work out) and because my company laid me off. I am under treatment for depression. A week ago, my doctor doubled the dosage of my antidepressant and, because I’m not sleeping well, he prescribed Ambien. On Saturday morning, I confused the vials and took two Ambien. I told my wife what happened and that I would probably sleep all day and went to bed. At around 10 p.m., my wife commented on how productive I had been: mowing the lawn, cleaning up, grocery shopping. I remembered none of this and said so. She said her only concern was that I left for “errands” and returned two hours later with nothing in hand. I talked to my doctor Monday, and he told me Ambien can cause amnesia and that some people have reported walking, driving, and cooking in their sleep. I know now what filled the missing two hours. This afternoon, I got a call from a woman who called me “lover” and asked when I wanted to come back. She called me her f–k buddy. This is a woman I had talked to only twice before in social situations. I do not even know where she lives; maybe I phoned her for directions. I do find her attractive, but I am stunned that I did something like this. My wife is vindictive, and if I say anything to her, it will end our marriage. I do not want to continue a relationship with the other woman. What should I do?

—Scared Sleepless

All I can say is LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE.

Now that I know you’re allowed to write LYING questions, I shall carefully craft my own. Stay tuned.

If you’re thinking, Emma, what happened to your week off from the internet?, all I can say is the internet and I have a forbidden love that transcends all time and space boundaries.

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Filed under I have a pop culture problem, other people are sometimes funny too

someday, when I’m awfully low

Dear Prudence is one of my favorite things ever. I believe it comes out once a week, but it seems like years – decades even – between each new article.

If you’re not familiar with Dear Prudence, I strongly recommend you go read all of the back articles right now. Do it. I can wait.

Ok, now that you’re appreciating the wonderfulness of her advice, the fine line she walks between funny and useful, read this:

Dear Prudence:
I did something recently that concerns me on many levels. I am under a large amount of stress because I’m in an unhappy marriage (which we’re trying to work out) and because my company laid me off. I am under treatment for depression. A week ago, my doctor doubled the dosage of my antidepressant and, because I’m not sleeping well, he prescribed Ambien. On Saturday morning, I confused the vials and took two Ambien. I told my wife what happened and that I would probably sleep all day and went to bed. At around 10 p.m., my wife commented on how productive I had been: mowing the lawn, cleaning up, grocery shopping. I remembered none of this and said so. She said her only concern was that I left for “errands” and returned two hours later with nothing in hand. I talked to my doctor Monday, and he told me Ambien can cause amnesia and that some people have reported walking, driving, and cooking in their sleep. I know now what filled the missing two hours. This afternoon, I got a call from a woman who called me “lover” and asked when I wanted to come back. She called me her f–k buddy. This is a woman I had talked to only twice before in social situations. I do not even know where she lives; maybe I phoned her for directions. I do find her attractive, but I am stunned that I did something like this. My wife is vindictive, and if I say anything to her, it will end our marriage. I do not want to continue a relationship with the other woman. What should I do?

—Scared Sleepless

All I can say is LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE.

Now that I know you’re allowed to write LYING questions, I shall carefully craft my own. Stay tuned.

If you’re thinking, Emma, what happened to your week off from the internet?, all I can say is the internet and I have a forbidden love that transcends all time and space boundaries.

Leave a comment

Filed under I have a pop culture problem, other people are sometimes funny too

haitus

Hi all. The internet is ruining my life. Ok – maybe not quite that obsessive, but I need a cleanse. I’ll be MIA for a week, but when I return I promise to be funny, fascinating, and .. um… fawesome.
There will be a mid week post because of the deadline for Stacy Ponder’s Final Girl Film Club, but other than that – see you next Monday.

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you're taking me for granted because I please you

It is so easy to be discontent. It’s really very pathetic (says she).

Last night I was lazing around, thinking ‘booooooo I have to go back to work tomorrow’. I’ve been toying with the idea of finding a job more in my beloved field of pastry, even though I had excellent reasons for leaving the field in the first place.

Why did I leave?

  • Reporting for work at 6 am.
  • Working weekends, with non-consecutive days off.
  • Working two full time jobs to make less than I make now.
  • Working every Christmas, every Easter, every Thanksgiving – basically any time everyone else is celebrating.

You should know, I put all but #3 in there so as to seem non-mercenary. The weird days and hours didn’t actually bother me, because most weekends, Christmases, and Easters I find an excuse to bake anyway – this way at least I was getting paid for it. Plus, going to work at six means you get off at 2 or 3. Lovely.

#3 though – that was a deal breaker.  It’s so sad that money is so important – but I remember wondering if I would be able to buy a house before I turned 40. 40. One little career change later and here I am in my very own lil townhouse, with two well fed dogs and a car that was NEW when I bought it. NEW. That’s right.

Lately, however, I seem to have forgotten what that was like. It now seems charming that I used to have to budget Cloey’s food into my groceries. Didn’t seem charming at the time, mind you – seemed like a pain in the ass to have to live without my beloved marmalade for weeks so that my girl could have healthy food. It also seems romantic that I could rarely afford to go anywhere, and instead took bread and desserts from work and cooked dinners at home most nights. It wasn’t – the idea of someone serving me and cleaning up after me was so tempting that I occasionally literally had dreams about it.

Full circle. Last night I was laying around, thinking how lame it is that I have to go to work. Well, actually I was thinking ‘gee, I’m pretty damn happy’. And then I thought ‘I wish I was making pie tomorrow’. Then ‘stupid non-pie making job’. And then I thought ‘oh shit’.

BECAUSE – now I’m worried that I somehow jinxed myself and will fall victim to the recession. I don’t want to live without marmalade again, people. So to my job, and my friends, and my pups, and my boy, I say ‘muah’. I am grateful and content.

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Filed under I make lists, it's all about me, yum

you’re taking me for granted because I please you

It is so easy to be discontent. It’s really very pathetic (says she).

Last night I was lazing around, thinking ‘booooooo I have to go back to work tomorrow’. I’ve been toying with the idea of finding a job more in my beloved field of pastry, even though I had excellent reasons for leaving the field in the first place.

Why did I leave?

  • Reporting for work at 6 am.
  • Working weekends, with non-consecutive days off.
  • Working two full time jobs to make less than I make now.
  • Working every Christmas, every Easter, every Thanksgiving – basically any time everyone else is celebrating.

You should know, I put all but #3 in there so as to seem non-mercenary. The weird days and hours didn’t actually bother me, because most weekends, Christmases, and Easters I find an excuse to bake anyway – this way at least I was getting paid for it. Plus, going to work at six means you get off at 2 or 3. Lovely.

#3 though – that was a deal breaker.  It’s so sad that money is so important – but I remember wondering if I would be able to buy a house before I turned 40. 40. One little career change later and here I am in my very own lil townhouse, with two well fed dogs and a car that was NEW when I bought it. NEW. That’s right.

Lately, however, I seem to have forgotten what that was like. It now seems charming that I used to have to budget Cloey’s food into my groceries. Didn’t seem charming at the time, mind you – seemed like a pain in the ass to have to live without my beloved marmalade for weeks so that my girl could have healthy food. It also seems romantic that I could rarely afford to go anywhere, and instead took bread and desserts from work and cooked dinners at home most nights. It wasn’t – the idea of someone serving me and cleaning up after me was so tempting that I occasionally literally had dreams about it.

Full circle. Last night I was laying around, thinking how lame it is that I have to go to work. Well, actually I was thinking ‘gee, I’m pretty damn happy’. And then I thought ‘I wish I was making pie tomorrow’. Then ‘stupid non-pie making job’. And then I thought ‘oh shit’.

BECAUSE – now I’m worried that I somehow jinxed myself and will fall victim to the recession. I don’t want to live without marmalade again, people. So to my job, and my friends, and my pups, and my boy, I say ‘muah’. I am grateful and content.

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Filed under I make lists, it's all about me, yum

When all these numbers tumble into your imagination

Going to a Gregory Allen Isakov show tonight. That starts at 10. It’s 7:13, we’re not even in the car yet, and I’m already tired.
Time to rally. Good thing I have an energy drink.

The best energy drink ever. It’s made just for me, too. Well, me and all other women. Know how you can tell? Cause it’s pink. And the slogan is ‘fuel to be fabulous’.

If it weren’t so delish, I’d be pissed.

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Filed under I have a pop culture problem, turns out I'm a feminist

this is the story of how we begin to remember

Best Easter ever.

Cept, you know, not really. Cause of all the blood n stuff.

My mother lives in the moutains and has two crazy dogs. When she is out of town, there are very few people who are willing to take care of those dogs…. cept me, since I have crazy dogs of my own.

This weekend she was out of town being a kickass cyclist woman:

Thats her on the right. Tiny and adorable just like her children.

That's her on the right. Tiny and adorable just like her children.

So I was the official dogsitter.  Which went fine. Until Sunday morning.

I should mention that she has a trampoline. She and I put it together ourselves over a decade ago – it’s a big rectangular one with no safety accessories at all. Nets? Pads? Not for these women.  On Friday afternoon I started dusting off my slightly rusty (rusty and dusty?) jumping skills, and after a few minutes had remembered the joy of backflips.  I didn’t actually land on my feet once, but I made landing on your hands and knees look cool, man.

Sooooo Sunday morning my guy joined me for some Easter breakfast. I of course felt it necessary to show off my moves. In my defense, I hadn’t run for two days and I was feeling a little restless.  I hit the trampoline and he stayed inside like a wise adult male. Until I started waving and making faces and begging for his company.

All I can say is that the man can flip. It was a great flip! He landed on his feet, which I am (as I mentioned above) currently incapable of.

Sadly, his feet didn’t stay where they were put.  He hit the edge with his forehead, and I am not writer enough to explain how fast and voluminous the blood flow was. You can be told a million times that there are a lot of blood vessels in the face, looks worse than it is, blah blah blah, but remembering that when your beau is bleeding out on your childhood trampoline is another thing all together.  Trust me. I was pretty sure he was dead, which would have made me an exceptionally sad chica.  He wasn’t, obviously.

Turns out Easter is not the busiest day in the ER, which was convenient for us. And that they don’t mind you taking pictures – which was convenient for me :).

small-j-stitch1

Happy Easter! (You can understand why the post is a day late, right?)

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Filed under dating is fun!, it's all about me