One of today's headlines on MSN is "Sundae Recipes"
Seriously? People actually make recipes for Sundaes?! Oh great, just another way to make me feel even more lame in the kitchen.
I hope they don't make recipes for cereal. I make a killer cereal dinner.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
E-to-the-M
I love when people shorten my name. Like Em or Emmy or E. Especially when they don't really know me.
I'm being completely serious. I think it's cute.
For example, there is this total jerk I was working with who was incredibly rude to me on the phone. I told him who my client was and he just started repeating "buh-bye, buh-bye, buh-bye." But he didn't hang up so I assumed he was bluffing. So I asked about the market in his area and he flipped out and told me to do my own job. Which, hello, it is my job to ask you. Geez, just google me to figure it out (no wait, don't do that). So fine. I thanked him and hung up. The next day he sent me an e-mail basically saying the same thing. I replied and told him to shove it.
Ha! Just kidding. I wish that was me.
I replied and was too nice. I think I even used "I apologize" in there. I know, I could totally be the "Before" in an Old Spice commercial (I should have applied my Swagger that day!). But I was typing really hard when I wrote it. Maybe his eyes could feel the anger. By the way, wouldn't it be cool if you could add animation to e-mails? Like, so each letter would be typed boldly, one at a time. Maybe they could make a sound, like a hammer hitting iron even! But seriously, who am I kidding, if you could do all that I would probably choose something pink with butterflies.
Where was I? Oh yah, well he replied again and said "Em, I put a voodoo-hex on your goldfish so that he will never play sports again."
And you know what? Since he called me Em all is forgiven and everything is peaceful and tranquil again. Little did he know all he had to do was impolitely and unprofessionally shorten my name!
I'm kidding about the goldfish. I don't have one. Mike is allergic to animals.
I'm being completely serious. I think it's cute.
For example, there is this total jerk I was working with who was incredibly rude to me on the phone. I told him who my client was and he just started repeating "buh-bye, buh-bye, buh-bye." But he didn't hang up so I assumed he was bluffing. So I asked about the market in his area and he flipped out and told me to do my own job. Which, hello, it is my job to ask you. Geez, just google me to figure it out (no wait, don't do that). So fine. I thanked him and hung up. The next day he sent me an e-mail basically saying the same thing. I replied and told him to shove it.
Ha! Just kidding. I wish that was me.
I replied and was too nice. I think I even used "I apologize" in there. I know, I could totally be the "Before" in an Old Spice commercial (I should have applied my Swagger that day!). But I was typing really hard when I wrote it. Maybe his eyes could feel the anger. By the way, wouldn't it be cool if you could add animation to e-mails? Like, so each letter would be typed boldly, one at a time. Maybe they could make a sound, like a hammer hitting iron even! But seriously, who am I kidding, if you could do all that I would probably choose something pink with butterflies.
Where was I? Oh yah, well he replied again and said "Em, I put a voodoo-hex on your goldfish so that he will never play sports again."
And you know what? Since he called me Em all is forgiven and everything is peaceful and tranquil again. Little did he know all he had to do was impolitely and unprofessionally shorten my name!
I'm kidding about the goldfish. I don't have one. Mike is allergic to animals.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Chocolate Babies
Babies, jobs, babies, jobs.
That's all that's been on my mind lately. But not in that particular order.
To all of my family and friends (and strangers at the bagel place), I apologize for not being able to pay attention to anything else. It's like someone asks me a question and I'm all "Do you think I would make a good mother?" And they're all "Sure, lady, now do you want that bagel toasted or not?" And I say "Maybe I should send the interviewer flowers. That's not too kiss-assy, right?"
Then as my bagel is being extra toasted (I get the point, dude) I start thinking about how I google people. If someone is rude to me on the phone, I google their name and hope there is a picture posted somewhere on the internet. Usually there is, because usually it is an attorney or real estate agent and they LOVE to put their pictures on things (although, you would think someone would come up with a better background than the light blue swirly - seriously, it looks like they all go to the same mystical location where everything is happy and swirly and all hair cuts are outdated...says the girl with no photo here, yes I know, those in glass houses...). Anyway, it makes me think what if the interviewer googles my name? She would probably find my facebook page. Wait, what did I put on there? Have I said anything too crass or too revealing? What about my pictures? Am I doing anything weird or illegal in them? And then the panic takes over and I have to rush to my computer to check it out. And now I'm analyzing every status update and comment making sure it's not offensive. And I'm starting to make up shit about my opinions on modern artists and posting them. Like how Cosimo Cavallaro's Chocolate Jesus is a reflection of the current society's need for immediate gratification and disaffection to figureheads.
When really, it makes me think I'm hungry.
And that I should go to church more.
So here I am furiously changing any connection of me to google and now I realize I left the bagel place without getting lunch. But I can't go back now, that would be embarrassing. So I guess I will skip lunch today. But skipping important meals - a good mother that does not make. I know! I'll have Mike go get it for me. Wait, did I leave Mike standing at the counter??
That's all that's been on my mind lately. But not in that particular order.
To all of my family and friends (and strangers at the bagel place), I apologize for not being able to pay attention to anything else. It's like someone asks me a question and I'm all "Do you think I would make a good mother?" And they're all "Sure, lady, now do you want that bagel toasted or not?" And I say "Maybe I should send the interviewer flowers. That's not too kiss-assy, right?"
Then as my bagel is being extra toasted (I get the point, dude) I start thinking about how I google people. If someone is rude to me on the phone, I google their name and hope there is a picture posted somewhere on the internet. Usually there is, because usually it is an attorney or real estate agent and they LOVE to put their pictures on things (although, you would think someone would come up with a better background than the light blue swirly - seriously, it looks like they all go to the same mystical location where everything is happy and swirly and all hair cuts are outdated...says the girl with no photo here, yes I know, those in glass houses...). Anyway, it makes me think what if the interviewer googles my name? She would probably find my facebook page. Wait, what did I put on there? Have I said anything too crass or too revealing? What about my pictures? Am I doing anything weird or illegal in them? And then the panic takes over and I have to rush to my computer to check it out. And now I'm analyzing every status update and comment making sure it's not offensive. And I'm starting to make up shit about my opinions on modern artists and posting them. Like how Cosimo Cavallaro's Chocolate Jesus is a reflection of the current society's need for immediate gratification and disaffection to figureheads.
When really, it makes me think I'm hungry.
And that I should go to church more.
So here I am furiously changing any connection of me to google and now I realize I left the bagel place without getting lunch. But I can't go back now, that would be embarrassing. So I guess I will skip lunch today. But skipping important meals - a good mother that does not make. I know! I'll have Mike go get it for me. Wait, did I leave Mike standing at the counter??
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