The Absence of Awesomeness

Okay, so in my last post I might have mentioned that I was “back”, which I totally was… for about 3 or 4 hours. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why would such an amazing writer, and all around great person like Emily, stop blessing us with her incredible writing and over usage of parenthesis? Well, to answer your question (to my Millions Of Dedicated Readers), it’s because I suck as a human being. To further elaborate, it’s because I told myself that I was going to write, but then I kept pushing it off until eventually it became this little nagging thought in the back of my head that I could eventually brush off completely. I apologize for not sharing my incessant sarcasm, stupid rants, and useless thoughts (hey, that sounds familiar) to my loyal “readers”. 

Some uppity old snob recently told me that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit (yeah, right) and that I was extremely unladylike for using it constantly (bite me, Old Snob). I was rather offended at first because hey, she basically just insulted my entire personality, but then I remembered that as an unladylike, simple-minded person, my role was to continue being sarcastic and dim-witted. By remembering my sarcastic duties, I was then again reminded of this wonderful blog that I created. So here I am. Again.

Also, I found out that apparently I use sarcasm as a psychological buffer (like I’m gonna believe that) to keep people away. When I was told this, my first thought was about how similar this must make me to Chandler Bing. Could I be anymore sarcastic?  That was a Chandler Bing reference from Friends if you are one of the uncultured swines that hasn’t seen Friends, but still dares to read my awful blog (just kidding, just kidding…my blog is pretty frickin’ awesome).

 To those of you who failed to read my last blog (which I know never happens because all of my Millions of Dedicated Readers are, like I said, dedicated), the title of my last blog was called “IM NOT DEAD”. It seems as though I jinxed myself and died shortly thereafter, which explains my prolonged absence (again, I’m sorry, my absence must have been very traumatic to all of you). 

In my absence, I read a lot of bad books and watched a lot of bad tv (although, I did watch a few Matt Damon movies, so bad didn’t seem so bad). In these books, I kept seeing the same, formulaic plots and  stories unfolding. It was actually pretty irritating. The characters were all stereotypical drones that made every high school movie ever made in the history of time look refreshingly new, unique and totally not stereotypical at all. I mean, these books were so awful, that I almost considered actually putting the book down and having an actual social interaction with someone. But then I thought “no pain, no gain” (which, in case you were wondering, there was a lot of pain, and absolutely no gain, so in conclusion, this saying actually sucks). These new books are really starting to go downhill in my opinion (with some rare exceptions). I mean, maybe it’s just me, but I feel like good books are the books that say things that haven’t been said before. Or books that have characters that you can just relate to and become attached to (sometimes unhealthily, in my case). Or the books where you literally have no idea about what’s going to happen. I miss those books. Maybe it’a just that I suck at picking good books to read (if you have any good suggestions, let me know). I’ll have to practice my book-picking (is that a thing?) skills. 

And one more thing to tell that I’ve been doing in my absence (not like it matters), is that I’ve recently taken up people watching. Now, before all (“all”) of you conjure up images of me with night vision goggles hiding behind bushes while Radiohead’s “Creep” plays in the background, I mean people watching in the most innocent way possible. Like watching people from a park bench. Or people watching while sitting in a coffee shop. Or waiting outside someone’s bedroom window at 1:32 am to take pictures of them while they sleep (is that wrong?). Or people watching when walking around at the mall (actually, the food court is a great place for this). You know, all the normal stuff. I’ll usually try to make up little backstories about each person. It’s kind of fun (in its own sad, little way). Then, I started to think about what story people would come up with for me as I was just sitting there, suspiciously watching everyone, and my thoughts weren’t so pleasant. I narrowed down my “story possibilities” to two. People either thought that I was a mentally deranged, psychotic woman with nothing better to do than stalk and stare, or that I was a sad, lonely woman with 13 cats that had names like Mr. Buttons or Princess Fluff-Bottom, that also had nothing better to do than stalk or stare. Either way, I end up looking like a winner, don’t I?

Alright, well I need to get back to my precious Matt Damon movies.

Thank you to the people who read my blogs! I will try to read and support the blogs of the people who support me!

Sincerely,

Emily (aka: the owner of Princess Fluff-Bottom)

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I AM NOT DEAD

Okay, it has officially been 1 year since I have posted anything on this blog. I sincerely apologize for the devastating inconvenience of not being able to read a bunch of crap that has no meaning whatsoever (my writing). It has been a rough year. Wait, let me rephrase that… it has been a crappy, awful, stupid, sucky year. I could go on with a list of synonyms but I think you got the gist.

So here I am. I’m back *horrified screams in the distance*. I know, I know, don’t get too excited.

Lately, I have been passing the hours by binge watching Netflix and shoving Goldfish down my throat (wow, okay, so I meant Goldfish Crackers, but the visual that just brought up was just too good to edit out). Does that make me pathetic? Or normal? Or if that’s considered normal, is society pathetic? Ugh, screw it. I don’t give a damn. Pathetic or not, Netflix is my passion and I am not ashamed. Well, maybe a little bit. I mean, a couple of days ago, I was watching The Office on my laptop and I had been decapitating a bunch of  leftover chocolate Santas and when I got up to go to the bathroom, I accidentally looked in the mirror and Oh. Dear. God. I screamed. My reflection was a combination of Einstein and Jabba the Hutt. But the most frightening part of this story is that I just went right back to ruthlessly murdering chocolate Santas and binge watching Netflix. Lesson of the story: don’t look in the mirror.

I will write again soon. I just wanted to let all of the hundreds of millions of dedicated, lovely readers and supporters I have know that I am not dead (hence the title) and that I have not forgotten to share my words of wisdom and knowledge. Ha. Okay, I’ll stop now.

Thank you! I will try to read the blogs of the people who support me!

Emily

 

Dinner with Grandparents

Dinner with my grandparents is like having dinner with two rambling time travelers from 1900’s with southern accents. Don’t get me wrong, I love them. They’re cute and happy and adorable and funny. Part of the reason that they’re so funny is because half of the time, they don’t even know what they’re saying. They both have bad hearing, so one of them will start to talk about something and then the other one will start to talk about something completely different. Their conversations might sound like this:

Grandma: “Did you pick up the medications last night?”

Grandpa: “I tried, but they were out of lettuce.”

Grandma: “Let us do what?”

Grandpa: “Yup, she told me the same thing.”

This happened on a regular basis last night when we had dinner together. At first, I tried to explain the conversations, but that just ended up with me talking and them staring at me through squinted eyes with puzzled looks on their faces. After a while, I just gave up trying to actually have them understand what they were saying and just went along with their “conversations” (more like random sentences shouted at each other from opposite ends of the table). One time, I asked my grandpa if he enjoyed his android phone, and he looked completely horrified before responding. He responded by saying  “I don’t have hemorrhoids, dear.” I took me a while to figure out what the hell he was talking about, but then I realized he just misheard me. I quickly tried to explain the misunderstanding, but I don’t think it did much good.

Before we met for dinner, I sent them an email to confirm the time that they were coming. I never got a response, so when they came for dinner, I politely asked them if they received my email. They responded by saying “Did you send the email to our upstairs computer email account, or our downstairs computer email account?”. I asked them what they meant and they told me that they have an email account that goes to their second floor (of their house) computer and another email account that goes to their first floor (of their house) computer. I told them that I never knew about this (how stupid of me for not sending it to their downstairs email!). They told me it was fine, and to just call them to see what floor they were on. I was about to tell them how illogical this sounded and that if I called them, then there would be no need for me to email them, but I just let it go. I didn’t want to confuse them anymore. It had never occurred to me to consider what floor of their house they would be on when they would receive my email.

After dinner, my grandparents pulled out a tablet and asked me if I could help them use their tablet. I said “Of course! When did you get a new tablet?”, and my grandma told me that it wasn’t new and that they have had the tablet for two years. I was kind of surprised with this answer, so I asked them if they needed help with something in particular. “Yes,” my Grandma responded, “How do you turn it on?” I explained everything to them, but in my mind I was thinking “What the hell have they been doing with this tablet for two years without knowing how to turn it on?”

The whole night was very confusing. They didn’t know what I was saying and I didn’t understand half of their conversations or logic, so all in all, it was a pretty dysfunctional night. It might have been extremely confusing, but I was with my family, and that’s what matters. We might have our off days (more like years), but it wouldn’t be the same without them. I love them. I am not saying all grandparents are like my grandparents. That is not at all what I’m saying. In fact, I know some of my friends grandparents that are quite technologically savvy. I guess my grandparents are just… special. In their own little way.

Thank you for reading! I will always try to read the blogs of the people who support me! Thank you again!

Sincerely,

Emily

If Pets Could Talk

Have you ever wondered what your pet/pets would say if they could talk? I have thought about this several times and each time it scares the crap out of me. My dog has seen several things that I would NEVER let actual human beings see. I have sung (more like screeched), danced (looked like I was having a seizure), ranted (not very pretty), and cried (also not very pretty) in front of my dog. Worst of all, I have confessed several secrets to my dog. One time, when I was younger, I had stained the carpet in my family’s house with bright, red food coloring (don’t ask). Since I was freaked out, I covered the big, red spot with the couch. It has been covered up for five years. Five years. To replace carpet, you need to pay an unreasonably, large amount of money, so you can imagine why I wanted to cover it up. Well, I told my dog the whole story. If my dog could talk, I have a feeling he would blackmail me into feeding him treats for the rest of his life, or else he would blab the whole things to my parents, forcing me to pay the fee for replacing the carpet. So, basically, if my dog could talk, then he would be a nefarious, evil mastermind who blackmailed people to benefit himself. The only thing that contradicts my theory of my dog being a corrupt gangster are his looks. My dog weighs twelve pounds, has white and fluffy fur that feels like cotton, and these huge, adorable black eyes. This may make my theory seem a bit unlikely, but we all know that looks can be deceiving.

Also, I have a feeling that my dog would be judging me every time I talked to him. Maybe that’s part of the reason why we love our pets so much. It’s because they can’t talk and all they can do is “listen”  and be there for us. For example, if I was talking to my dog about my opinion on politics and he disagreed, he could tell me he disagreed and start arguing with me. I would share my opinion and he would say ” Are you kidding me? How stupid are you? Do you even watch the news? ” . And then my dog and I would get into a heated debate about the taxes that the people in our country pay. Plus, if my dog walked in on me as I binge on Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-tarts (the best possible tasting thing), he would probably say “Seriously? That’s your idea of a “diet”? You repulsive pig. I can’t even look at you right now.” and then he would turn around and walk back to his water bowl.

I really hope that my pet doesn’t start talking all of the sudden. If he does, then my dog’s secret identity of a shady, evil, mastermind/gangster would be revealed and all hell would break loose. Dog treats from the supermarkets would be reported stolen all over the country, stuffed animals would be ripped to shreds in several houses, and slobber would be covering every open surface in the country.  I can only hope that my theory is wrong, but make no mistake, you have been warned.

Thank you for reading! I have rambled about something with no actual importance yet again and for that I apologize. If you have any “theories” of your own, I would love to hear them! I will always try to read the blogs of the people that support my blog! Thank you again!

Sincerely,

Emily

“Screw you,” said the Universe.

I am not a “smooth” person. I jam my fingers and toes, I trip on flat ground, I run into poles, I run into walls, I run into doors, and I run into things not even in my path. Why? Because the universe says “Screw you”. That’s why.

Today, I was especially prone to accidents. On top of my inevitable falling, there is currently snow and ice covering the ground where I live. Let’s just say this: snow and I do not go well together. Last year, my friends and I were shoveling snow (because we had nothing better to do) and my friend had a shovel full of snow and was dumping it into a pile. I was behind her and just as the snow was starting to fall off of the shovel, the wind started to blow. It blew the snow onto my face and hair. Now, ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been a big deal because snow is water which means it melts, but this snow was no ordinary snow (because that would be way too simple) No. It was yellow snow. Yup, that’s right, it was piss snow. I had piss snow all over my face and hair. Piss. In my hair. As you can imagine, I was not particularly thrilled with having urine stained snow all over my face. Some of it even got into my mouth. Why? Because the universe says (once again) “Screw you”. That’s why.

Today, I slipped and fell because of the wonderful thing that Mother Nature inflicted upon us called ice. I was walking over the snow and I stepped on what I thought was ordinary snow, but instead was ice covered in snow. It cracked and I slipped while realizing that the ice was actually covering a puddle (more like a miniature pond). Upon making my discovery of my unfortunate choice of footing, I fell into the miniature pond, all the while drenching myself in brown, murky water. That was the highlight of my day. I even got the brown water in my hair. Something disgusting got into my hair yet again.  Why? Because the universe says “Screw you”. AGAIN.

I feel like the universe has some weird fetish with screwing up people’s lives. Isn’t that life? Life is the universe saying “Hey, let’s make her get piss snow in her hair.” or “Hey, let’s make sure Emily is miserable today.” or “Oh, time to make Emily fall into a puddle of disgusting water.”.  We never get a “break” from the unfortunate moments that are the universe’s ways of entertainment. Sometimes I feel like there are these people that sit up in space and decide to torture the human race because why not? Well, I am fed up with these “people”, so I am saying this: Screw you, universe! I will probably get struck by lightning, get stuck in a ditch, or will fall into a well for saying that, but I just wanted to say it.

Please let me know your thoughts on how the mysterious, yet cruel, universe works!

Thank you to the people who read my obnoxious rant (“people”)!

Sincerely,

One More Person Screwed Over By the Universe

Imaginary Audience

Hello, imaginary crowd!

I have a blog because apparently, I like to write things to my imaginary crowd of people that read the things I write and will love me until my last dying breath (hopefully a little longer- I mean, honestly, I don’t know if my fantasy crowd can take me for that long).  I like to write and that is why I am currently typing  on a laptop on some crappy, squeaky chair that refuses to shut up while ordinary people would be, oh, I don’t know, having an actual social interaction with someone? If someone is actually reading this, I apologize for my sarcasm and attitude, and I am grateful that someone is at least reading my “words of wisdom” (Ha! Wow, am I delusional or what?). In my opinion (not like anyone would care or notice), I think the main reason we (our society) don’t write or share our feelings is because are scared. We are scared of not being accepted, scared of trying and not succeeding, and scared of being different. Our society always tells people to be who you are, but do we follow our own advice? No. We don’t. I am not saying that I am innocent because I fully admit that I am anything but innocent. I just wanted to say it, at least once. I think that anyone who shares their opinion to the world, even if it’s different from mine, should be proud of themselves. You took a step towards being your own person. It may be a small step, but you took it.

Have you ever thought about what people from the future would think of us? Sometimes I think “Hey, what if people read my writing many years in the future when I’m dead? *starts laughing* Nah, they would probably think it’s just some outrageous, insane ramblings of a sarcastic, pathetic “author” who writes to imaginary people.” Yeah, that sounds pretty accurate.

This is just my grand entrance into a world I have yet to figure out. Thank you to whoever is reading this, I will try to read the blogs of the people who support me.

Thank you,

Emily