detox, retox

As per my last entry, lately I have been feeling… gross. In every way. Why? Multiple reasons. Sometimes just working through life seems like this huge pressure that I am unprepared to deal with. 

When I am really overwhelmed by my existence, I like to revel in it. I’m like a pig in shit. (Is that the saying? Well, it fits.) Seriously. Normally I am a really tidy person. I have nearly impeccable hygiene. I like to plan, I don’t like surprises, I like to keep busy, I like to feel in control of my activities and actions… so when that goes out the window, it REALLY goes. We’re talking bad. I don’t buy groceries, I don’t do laundry, I don’t even bother to put clothes back in my closet or in the hamper… I either don’t eat at all or binge on random snacks in a drunken stupor. I don’t move or I obsessively workout all night long. I listen to bad music alone in my room while wondering where all my friends are, or if I even really have friends. I sleep at random times but not when it’s dark out. Symptoms of depression? Just apathy? Regression into the lifestyle of a teenage boy? All of the above, probably. I’ve been feeling like Lindsay Lohan, and not in a good way. (see pictorial evidence.)

Anyway, I was pretty lame this weekend. I mostly just slept way too much in the daytime, drank a lot of alcohol, and ate a lot of Taco Bell. I woke up with a dual hangover from both late Sunday morning. I was supposed to go downtown for the Seattle Pride parade. While I am clearly not gay, I do support the lifestyle as well as equal rights for everyone. Furthermore, and almost as importantly, I support any holiday in which I am encouraged to day-drink in public while watching people in funny outfits. My dreams for any afternoon activities were shattered, though, when I remembered the tequila shots at the karaoke bar, the stupid texts, the Chicken Crunchwrap Supreme… I wasn’t in a very festive mood, to say the least. Luckily, my friend Yumi pulled me out of my Mexican torpor with this text convo:

Yumi: We’re getting ready now and heading up there. Your plans?

Emily: …still at home. In my pajamas, listening to R&B.

Yumi: Emily!!! No R&B in PJs! Come hither and hang out! How was the Rickshaw?

Emily: Intense. I just re-realized I ate Taco Bell.

After she didn’t respond to my pathetic Taco Bell epiphany/excuse for being a lazyass, I decided I needed to get myself together. I was a mess and it had gone on long enough. It was time to put on a colorful dress, buy a Gatorade, go downtown, and participate in the celebration.

Revisiting the public and life outside my pit of a bedroom, I felt a lot better about life. If the gay community can be so festive in the face of such oppression, I can at least get out of bed at a reasonable time and keep my living space tidy, for christsake. I came home that night, and armed with determination. In true Emily fashion, about five minutes into my mission I got bored/unmotivated and was about to give up and watch Entourage, but when I stepped on a tortilla chip with my bare foot while making the journey to my bed, I knew I had to get my ass in gear. Not only was my abode an embarrassing disaster, so was my entire digestive tract and nutritional compass. I finished what I started and promised myself I would do even better the next day.

SO YESTERDAY, GUESS WHAT. Not only did I eat incredibly healthfully, I did not drink a drop of alcohol, I worked out a shitload, and even ran (literally!) to the grocery store to reload on healthy groceries. I was almost drawn into temptation by a gigantic display of the newly released “pretzel-filled” M&Ms (excuse me?!? This must be revisited after I lose 10 pounds in July), but the knowledge that I was trying to turn my life around propelled me to the produce section instead. Score. Then, last night, I fell asleep alone, naturally, which never used to feel like an accomplishment, but lately…
Then, granted, today I ended up doing happy hour, but it was to celebrate Shawna’s promotion, plus I only had two glasses of red wine, which is heart-healthy. I also walked for a very long distance to get to the bar, including multiple flights of stairs. That’s something.

Here’s the sad part. I was so proud of my Monday (and semi-Tuesday) of glory, but the truth is, that shining moment of health is over. Tomorrow I am going to a show with Matt and Mini, two of my favorite people in the world, and also two of the worst (and therefore, in a way, best!) influences when it comes to making decisions involving “having a good time”… Thursday a huge preemptive 4th of July BBQ blowout in my backyard… then I have a sick 3-day weekend which will have to be expounded upon in a later entry. So, enjoy that 48-hour period of health while it lasted, everyone. Let’s just take a moment though, and acknowledge that I knowingly made positive decisions. I at least don’t feel as Lohan-esque, more Ashley Olsen at this point. Yes!

gross

Signs you know your life has somehow derailed:

• Your friends forbid you from watching your worn DVD of Center Stage again.
• You cry in front of the checker at RadioShack.
• You actually mistake your digital camera for a cell phone and try to text someone on it. Sober. Actually.
• The cornerstones of your healthy diet are tap water, black coffee, Tums, and painkillers.
• You listen to the Cruel Intentions soundtrack on repeat.
• You contemplate wearing your father’s old thermal shirt as appropriate “business casual attire” (but luckily, back out at the last minute). But you still wear the same pair of pants four days in a row, because everything just seems like too much effort.

GROSS. I used to think that being tough and immune to messiness/emotions was my thing, but it looks like my persona is headed in a different direction. Now being a completely useless trainwreck is my new “thing”. (My other new “thing” is chewing a huge wad of gum while I work out, I think it helps concentration and rhythm… but that is a different theory for a different day.)

I am an official disaster zone. I slept in until 11:00 today. I never sleep in past like, 9:00 on the weekends. I was supposed to meet people to watch the World Cup hours ago, but nope, snoozing in my underwear is apparently all I could handle this morning. It’s now past 2:00 and I was supposed to be at a baby shower by 1:00. Once again, no, apparently couldn’t be bothered to go to that. Of course, it was supposed to be nice outside but it is grey and gloomy. This non-summer is really getting to me. I haven’t even changed out of my robe. My biggest accomplishment today: I just finally mustered up the strength to eat something. I made an egg and ate some Wheat Thins. Back in the day, I was so optimistic when I cooked for myself… what used to be an omelet with caramelized onions, mushrooms, goat cheese, egg whites, etc. is now…. one plain egg cooked in PAM spray. Sad.

Also, my living area is a disgrace. I’m a neat and organized person, and to enter my bedroom is shocking. We’re talking about half my wardrobe on the floor, the onion from my purse still sitting on my nightstand, DVDs from at least six different shows littered around various flat surfaces. Random paperwork everywhere. Empty pint glasses. Make-up. Right now, in my bed, is a box of checkbooks, a bunch of photographs, a paper plate, two remotes, and six pillows. (One of my friends, I forget who – maybe KJ? – has a theory that the more pillows a girl has in her bed, the crazier she is. I have gone from three pillows to six in the past few months. That means my crazy has doubled?!)

Well, in respect to the aforementioned chewing gum work out, I am going to attempt to run. The idea of moving at all is pretty horrible to me, but I am so embarrassed of my level of apathy and laziness right now. Then again, there is a slight chance I might just go back to bed.

summer blues

One of the most difficult things in life, for me, is returning from vacation. I can’t lie; relaxing and drinking in a warm climate is pretty much my favorite thing in the world, so after a weekend of doing just that, I am downright depressed returning to my so-called “real” life. Especially during summer, the most festive season.

I have just returned from the Oregon coast. I journeyed to Matt’s beach house in Manzanita with a handful of my friends, and as they can attest, it was a lovely time full of the beach, booze, BBQ, bonfires, ummm.. can’t think of any other alliteration… so also golf, shots shots shots sho-sho-shots!, hiking, pie, music, oysters, World Cup, horseshoes, Catan, questionable Dairy Queen, Camaro, semi-sunshine… you get the idea. I’m still shocked by the amount of activities we were able to pack in, considering (a) how little time we really spent there, only four days, and (b) how intoxicated we were the majority of the vacation. Productivity at its finest!

Now I am back home, sitting alone at my desk, looking around my room, and feeling deflated. This is borrrrringgggg. I don’t understand those people who are all, “I can’t even relax on vacation! After two days I am so ready to get back to the real world. I hate feeling so lazy, there’s so much to get done!”… oh, shut up. You can do my work, too, then. Don’t get me wrong, I do love my job and I feel good after working hard on a project or whatever. But let’s get real. If I could spend the entire summer the exact same way I spent this extended weekend, I would be in heaven. I would not feel guilty in the slightest (in this imagined scenario, clearly I would have a lot more money and maybe six-pack abs).
We were talking in the car on the way home about how awesome it was being a kid in the summertime. No job, no school, maybe, like, sports camp (or if you were me, theatre camp, holla!) and even for that “obligation” your parents are the ones responsible for scheduling and paying for it and driving your ass around to it. One drawback, there is no sex and no alcohol, so you do miss out on those summertime delights. As a kid, though, those aren’t even on your radar. (Hopefully.) That might be even better! You are free to be totally lazy and selfish… unless you were some superachiever prodigy but clearly that was not my childhood experience. Now we’re adults and have to work for a living and worry about finances, relationships, careers… ugh, so complicated and often so devoid of satisfaction. I can deal with it, but c’mon, at least give me summer break! Twelve months of this bullshit?! It seems so unfair.

That is why our trip’s theme song should be everyone’s ultimate summertime life theme song. Observe:

Special thanks to Patrick for busting out that song on his iPod on our ride down, and another special thanks to Matt for getting it permanently in my head by constantly humming it while we were playing golf together. And special thanks to me, actually, for finding this sweet vid on YouTube.
We love everybody but we do as we please
When the weather’s fine
We go fishin’ or go swimmin’ in the sea
We’re always happy
Life’s for livin’ yeah, that’s our philosophy
…would that it could be so simple, eh? I think that’s why I love/hate taking trips. For a few days, you can pretend.
Now to detox, work out, unpack, balance my checkbook… okay, jk on that last one, I have never balanced a checkbook in my life. I do as I please!

serious baggage

In a misguided attempt to be productive tonight, I decided to “clean and organize my entire room” which obviously means “empty out my purse, get annoyed, then watch DVRed E! reality shows on the elliptical.” Nonetheless, cleaning out my one purse proved to be a very daunting task. I became very overwhelmed by my possessions, and my life itself. Peruse this list of unnecessary handbag contents, and perhaps you will realize why.
(Note: I promise I am not exaggerating ANYTHING.)

- My passport (for all the international travel I so frequently embark on…)
- Two packets of Orbitz gum (normal)
- Two packets of Japanese Mamba candy (not normal)
- Three different chapsticks
- Three packets of oral contraceptives (cause I guess you just never know how protected you need to be)
- An eyeshadow that I swear I have owned since I was 17
- A personalized, signed copy of Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea
- No less than 10 expired Metro transfers
- A pair of $5 H&M sunglasses in a $100 Pucci sunglass case (because it’s all about appearances)
- Two pairs of earbuds
- One earring. I lost its match on campus at UW about four years ago, and here this lone earring shall remain.
- Mini tube of Colgate toothpaste
- Gatorade caps
- About eight different post-its with different people’s addresses on them
- Rosary necklace
Finally, and probably most hilarious/mysterious…
- A whole, large, Walla Walla sweet onion!

And BP thought they had issues cleaning up that oil spill! How much more work can one be expected to complete after dealing with this disaster?! In case you haven’t guessed, I carry a pretty large purse. It’s deceptively regular from the outside, but that bag can clearly hold some shit.
Now that I have completed the laborious mission of dumping all those contents on my floor, desk, and/or the foot of my bed, I am too tired to handle the rest. The new plan is to get into said bed with a glass of red wine and a DVD of The OC. Really, what more can a 20something young professional woman want out of a Tuesday night…

sunday morning smackdown

I awoke from a very vivid and realistic dream of being an Olympic swimmer (it could happen!) to the sad realization that I was fully clothed and fully hungover on Steph’s couch. We have spent a verrrry lazy morning here, mobbing on some delicious homemade bacon-avo eggs benedict and trying to piece together last night and how/why it quickly commenced on a downward spiral of self-destruction and gay leather bars. Oh well. Some things you will just never have an answer to.
Stephanie says: “I don’t think we learned any lessons, though.”

Here are snippets of our ultra-important and competent conversations this morning:

(Chris and Ryan are playing with an air rifle.)

Emily: What is that thing?! What is its purpose?
Chris: Nothing. To do this. (while Ryan is fake shooting it in his face)
Emily: But… why?
Chris: Had to spend money on something.
Emily: Wait, you refused to go out to breakfast this morning because you didn’t want to “waste money” but the air gun was a necessity?
Steph: …Yep.
Emily: But why own it? Is it, like, part of a program or something?
Steph: A “program”? A program for what?

Ryan: You guys, I had the best day at work on Friday! First of all, this lady gave me a gift basket full of candy for delivering a package to her door.
Emily: Why did she give you a gift basket for just doing your job?
Ryan: Because I bought it to her actual door! It was great. She even gave me sour apple Warheads! Those are my favorites, for all of your future reference.
Emily: I haven’t thought about those since junior high.
Ryan: Then, I was bored and was digging through the trash at work…
Steph: You were digging through the trash because you were bored?
Ryan: Yeah, and I found a Nalgene!
Emily: You found a Nalgene in the trash? Good one.
Chris: What’s a Nalgene?
Steph: Wait, no, do you seriously dig through the trash at your workplace?
Ryan: That’s shit’s like $10 in the store!
Chris: WHAT’S A NALGENE?
Emily: C’mon. You know what Nalgene is.
Chris: I’ll know once I Google it.
Ryan: Then we can go outside, cook some ribs, and toss around the Nalgene.
Steph: …What?

Chris: Steph, do you want to come to the store with us?
Steph: I can just tell you what I need and you can pick it up for me.
Chris: Sweet, then I don’t have to buy all that name-brand shit.
Ryan: Yes! Safeway Select brand, bitches!
Steph: But I need name-brand cheese because it tastes better!
Chris: Did you say “Velveeta”? I thought you said “Lucerne.”

totally burned

This latest debacle is all my own fault, really. I succumbed to a potent combination of temptation and vanity. Play with fire (or UV bulbs) and you’re bound to get burned.

That’s right, I have been going tanning.

Maybe I am just too critical (heh, “maybe”) but I have always considered indoor tanning a relatively trashy activity. It’s one thing to get a nice tan in the summer when you’re outside playing sports, traveling, or just lounging by the pool, but committing to cooking your skin via manufactured UV rays is so… ugh. I mean, we all know it’s bad for you. We all know it can give you leather face. We all know it can give you cancer. And hey, we live in Washington, everyone is pale the majority of the year. It seems pretty unnecessary to me. I put tanning on par with like, acrylic nails. Almost everyone will assume it’s fake, so why bother?

Having said that…

You get to lay naked, listen to dumb music, and feel warm. Then you look more attractive. While the longterm effects are negative, it’s a good source of semi-instant gratification. Indoor tanning is, admittedly, a fun activity. Not that I think “fun” is a valid excuse in this instance (in almost any other, I think it is, though). And there’s that old argument that tanning indoors before spending time in the sun is more “safe” because you’re in a “controlled environment”… I don’t know where I stand on that aspect of the issue, but I do know that I am going to Miami in about two weeks and don’t want to look gross and pale. Armed with this  motivation, last week I took a field trip to my local Desert Sun to get some color, and to use a phrase that immediately irritates me, “build a base.”

This is the most offensive tanning-related picture I found on Google Images, so of course I chose it.

I have indulged in Mystic Tan before (for Vegas!) and conventional tanning (for Spain!) in the past. I am unfortunately both judgmental and shallow; apparently my shallowness is the stronger of these two personal qualities I boast. But I judge myself the entire time I do something shallow. It’s a vicious cycle. ANYway, of course the 18 year old girl in the Victoria’s Secret sweatsuit could sense my inclination to sink tons of money into “investments” that are obviously bad and useless, so I ended up with a “Premiere Membership.” Fantastic. It was the part about getting to use the bronzer beds at no extra cost, plus a free Mystic, plus she’d throw in yet another free Mystic “just for you because you’re being so good about signing up for everything right off the bat!”… girl, do NOT encourage me. The membership has a $20 sign-up fee (what? WHY) and costs $60 per month or something offensive like that. Then add the lotions (“because you have to have lotion, it really amps up your tan!”) and I was signing a receipt for $97! For two weeks of base-building?! This is an outrage. But the person I should be outraged with is myself, because I let it happen. Sometimes situations are so ridiculous and wasteful that I feel compelled to ride them out, no matter what the personal or financial damage. This is the same reason I love Indian casinos. There is something psychologically wrong with me.

Then to add insult to injury (well, if we’re being literal, injury to insult) I have gone three times this week, once for five minutes and twice for six minutes. Pretty weak, but wouldn’t you know it? Yesterday I started to feel weirdly hot and itchy after my session (ew, two adjectives you really don’t want to apply to yourself in the same context) and… what up, GIGANTIC SUNBURN! What the hell! I thought tanning was supposed to deter your skin from burning! I EVEN USED THE DAMN LOTION! I didn’t have this issue before Europe last year. Once again: WHY.

Am I still going back? Well, yeah, I paid for a month of unlimited premiere membership, you bet I’m getting my $97 worth. For the next two weeks, I am going to smell like fake coconut lotion and carry those awkward tanning goggles in my purse. Secretly. Abashedly. I’d also like to add that I sometimes put the music in the room on the “Mexican fiesta station” so with my eyes closed I can feel like I’m tanning on the beach, naturally. I haven’t been able to trick myself yet, but the shame spiral has to end somewhere. Maybe the UV rays will fry my brain, too, then I can stop feeling so embarrassed of this new – albeit temporary – hobby.

I still vow to never get fake nails, the fact that I have abstained for 24 years and counting is the one shred of dignity I can still cling to.

shit dreams are made of these

As of late, I have experienced a few unpleasant obstacles in the incredibly engaging, ongoing fantasy that is my life. Most people must think it’s a walk in the park to be Emily Teachout, but I’m here to tell you, it’s not. I may have the internet fame and fortune that many dream of yet will never attain, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have problems, too. One of my biggest problems right now is: sleep. This is a bad problem to have, because it’s not something you can really avoid or omit from your life. You need to sleep in every 24-hour cycle, or you will go insane. True story. Your life will become Shutter Island. While that film is awesome and blew my mind, I don’t want it to become my reality.

The issue is, lately, I have such a difficult time falling asleep, then once I finally do, I have these intensely vivid, upsetting dreams alllllllllll night long and I wake up early in the morning, feeling a thrilling combination of panic, discomfort, confusion, and sadness. Always an exciting way to start your morning. For some people, Folger’s is “the best part of waking up” but for me it’s realizing I’m not in whatever horrific situation I dreamt. Or, on the flip side, the worst part of waking up is when I’m in the middle of a dream that is way better than my actuality, then the sinking realization that it’s not true. OH GOD. Why do I have to sleep at all?!?!?

Rundown of some of my recent dream “highlights”:

• Teeth falling out. Always. I have had this recurring one for years, but it doesn’t make it any less scary or gruesome every time it occurs. There is nothing like the panic of realizing your face is falling apart. When I wake up, I have to say it is pretty relieving to run my tongue over my teeth and realize they are still there. Definitely a good reminder to brush your teeth on a daily basis…
• Work panic. Very unrealistic things like “oh I can’t figure out how to work Outlook and it’s full of life-or-death emails” or “My boss is soooo mad at me because I’m trying to drive but I can’t get to work on time”… sometimes I will still get restaurant dreams although I no longer work in any sort of restaurant setting. Things like angry customers yelling at me, someone orders a beer but I can’t find the tap, I get sat eight tables at once, etc. I thought these anxiety dreams would retreat once I quit the industry, but I still get them on a pretty regular basis.
• School panic. HEY! Guess who graduated college two years ago?! Nope, doesn’t matter, I still have dreams I’m flunking out of math. I get the math homework anxiety dream a lot. I also have ones where I wake up and realize I have a huge research paper due that morning and I haven’t started it. Or that I have my final science project due… all pretty similar, but all of them have me bolting up in bed, panting and frantically searching for my nonexistant backpack.
• Phone calls. Weird one. I will see that someone really important has texted me, or someone I love is trying to call, but I can’t answer my phone or figure out how to unlock it or respond to a message in time.  I know it sounds minor, but it always gets me really upset in the dream. Then I wake up feeling this sense of regret that I couldn’t reach them in time… basically cut off from communicating with the ones I need to the most. This is actually one of the worst ones, emotionally, for some reason. Maybe I have been thinking about upgrading my iPhone too much recently.

So what are my answers, here, people? How do I relax?! Medication? Maybe, but I always feel like I’ve been hit by a truck in the morning if I fall asleep in a chemically-enhanced fashion. Putting on a DVD, chilling in bed, and hoping for the best? No, because then I wake up from a panic dream with the annoying “DVD menu screen” loop music penetrating my ears, only furthering my disorientation. Drinking? No, that’s way depressing even for me, plus I get heartburn if I drink right before bed. Staying awake and just letting myself get as crazy as Teddy Daniels? I dunno, maybe, as I said, I did really enjoy that film.

maximum mexican

My gastrointestinal system has taken a vacation south of the border. As if last weekend’s Taco Night and Laredo’s marg party wasn’t enough… let’s talk about the bender I’ve gone on this weekend.

Friday night (or Saturday morning, depending on how you’d like to look at it) I took a delicious trip to Taco Bell with KJ. Complete with a medium Diet Coke, because why not just have utter disregard for my health in both food and beverage choice?

Yesterday, Saturday, I went to El Chupacabra with Kasey and we split their huuuuge nacho plate. Along with a couple rounds of margaritas, of course.

This afternoon after an exhausting morning of breakfast, Sunday morning football, online basketball game, and house-hunting, Steph and Chris and I indulged in baby-sized steak burritos at Gordito’s. (Which, in my opinion, is one of the most fun Mexican places in Seattle, its atmosphere somehow reminds me of a Mexican Roscoe’s… or maybe I just experience that same level of gluttonous excitement at both establishments.)

…yep, looks like Cinco de Mayo came early this year.

When will this fiesta end?!?!? I don’t know if it ever will, and I don’t know if I want it to.

guide to internet acronyms (or, how to be annoying online)

Today we will talk about a topic I find absolutely fascinating… shortening words so you can communicate as quickly and obnoxiously as possible.
AKA:
My Definitive Guide to Trendy Internet Acronyms

They have been rampant since the late 1990s, when the first “LOL” was uttered in a chatroom… now none of us can escape them and they are spreading like wildfire on our computers and cellphones. No one is immune. From the classics (BRB) to the new and entertaining (FML) to the annoying (OMG), there really is an acronym for everything. And we all know I love good acronyms and abbreviations (or should I say A&As, or acs & abbrevs). Let’s cut to the chase and I will tell you what to use, what not to use, and what will cause you to receive instant judgment!

LOL: Laughing out loud
This is an obvious one. It’s pretty dumb because it has become synonymous with “what you just said is funny” and I’m willing to bet that 95% of the time, you are not REALLY laughing out loud at all. So even if you are, when you say LOL you are defeating the purpose, because no one really thinks you’re laughing out loud. This is why I prefer the simple “ha ha” or if something is really hilarious, “HAHAHAHAHAHA”… I find myself slipping and saying LOL sometimes, but I don’t feel that bad about it. If I am actually laughing out loud I have been known to say “I’m literally LOL right now” but that is so long… why bother using an acronym in the first place?
VERDICT: ACCEPTABLE. BUT NOT GREAT.

LMAO, LMFAO, ROFL:
All variations of LOL. All pretty superfluous. You’re laughing your ass off. You’re laughing your fucking ass off. You’re rolling on the floor laughing. Really? Are you? Probably not. If you’re going to commit to a dumb laughing acronym instead of saying “ha ha” just go with LOL. You don’t need to complicate things. Oh, any by the way, if you decide to defy all convention and use “hee hee” instead of any “ha ha” or acronym, you are super creepy and probably either an elementary school student or a pedo.
VERDICT: ALL UNNECESSARY.

BRB: Be right back.
This is a good one. Useful, short, to the point, letting someone know you aren’t ditching them on the computer, you just need to do something else for a few minutes. I use it all the time. I also use it in speech, like on the phone or something: “hey, BRB, I’m getting another call” – totally works. However, its variation, BBL (be back later)… it basically means the same thing. But for some reason looks dumber. BRB has no time limit, I mean really, what does “right” back mean? Who knows, and who cares.
VERDICT: BRB FOREVER! STOP USING BBL!

WTF: What the fuck?
Obviously a classic. WTF will never die. Plus, how many situations in everyday life cause us to ask the all-important question “what the fuck!??!?” MILLIONS. Also, remember that “End of the World” video that went around years ago? When the Australian guy says “W-T-F”? It was comedy gold at the time. Then again, I was also 17 years old and thought Ebaum’s World and Livejournal were the pinnacles of internet entertainment.
VERDICT: PROBABLY THE BEST AND MOST USEFUL ONE.

PS: Really, you don’t remember End of the World?! Well, here you go. Enjoy.

JK: Just kidding!
There is also a less popular variation, “JP” (just playin’) that attempted to make a statement in the early ’00s, but nothing really came of it. And just as well; JK just flows better. I have to give it some credit, when I am joking about things it’s an easy way to clarify… chat, text, or email, it’s universally recognized and a good way to get the heat off you if you make a controversial or offensive statement. “Emily, no one reads your stupid blog…..jk girl” OH IN THAT CASE!
VERDICT: EFFICIENT AND EASY. I ALLOW IT.

OMG: Oh my god.
In theory, it serves a purpose. You’re surprised! But it’s become so tween-friendly that I just can’t stand it. I hear “OMG” and I just think of Gossip Girl and “starting drama” and 14 year olds and Mean Girls and… the annoying demographic of people who would “customize” their cellphones with pink rhinestones. Those are the people who regularly use “OMG” in their texts and online communications. I can’t be a part of that. Plus, I don’t like its Christian undertones.
VERDICT: OMG, GIRL! LIKE, NO!

WWJD: What would Jesus do
Okay, I don’t know if anyone actually would use this online/in a text, but I was inspired by the previous acronym. For one thing, it was a dumb 90s bracelet trend. For another thing… really? Do we even have to ask about this? If someone ever uses this on you…. wow. WWED? (What would Emily do?) Block you on Facebook, that’s what.
VERDICT: NEED I SAY IT? NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FML: Fuck my life
This is a newer breed. Like its fuck-acronym sister, WTF, FML is good because it is so universally appropriate! (For example, it just took me four attempts to spell the word “appropriate” correctly. Pathetic. FML.) Unless you’re leading a charmed life, like, say, Hilary Duff (seriously, I bet her life is perfect), you probably feel pretty irritated with your life on a daily basis. I know I do. Man, fuck our lives! (This brings up a variation I also enjoy, FOL, although I don’t think many people besides my friend Mila and myself utilize that one.)
VERDICT: MOST PEOPLE’S LIVES DO SUCK AT LEAST EVERY NOW AND THEN. USE IT!

TWSS: That’s what she said
I wasn’t even aware people were using this dumb saying as an acronym now, but apparently they are. You know what? It’s obnoxious enough as a flash-in-the-pan catchphrase favored by drunk dudes who think they’re being funny. I don’t need it all over my internet now. There is almost no point in time when “that’s what she said” is even used in a correct, let alone humorous, way. It is so unnecessary.
VERDICT: NO. DON’T PERPETUATE THIS MORONIC TREND.

Well, that’s it for now. I do have more I could expand upon, BMSTWBASP.

(That means, “but maybe someday there will be a sequel post”… didn’t you know that one?!)

the perils of texting

Lately I have been experiencing a recurring fantasy.
It involves me, screaming in rage, furiously launching my iPhone into the fireplace, watching the device slowly melting in the flames…
Unsurprisingly, this vision usually occurs after I scroll through my text log and revisit my latest cringe-worthy conversations.

I have decided that texting is very dangerous.

I am not a phone person - as in, talking on the phone. I hate to talk on the phone. Especially cell phones, because usually you’re using one when you’re doing something else, or in the car, or outside, etc… the majority of the conversation consists of: “What?” “Wait a sec, I think you’re breaking up…” “Hold on, I can’t hear you.” “Are you there? Did my call drop? Hello?” UGHHHH so irritating. Plus I’m a really fast talker and I like to vehemently gesture with my hands, and I just really feel my message cannot be accurately conveyed over phone lines. (Or whatever cell phones use. Radiowaves? I should probably know this.)

Texting, in theory, is better. Simple words, concise messages… efficiency at its finest! BUT NOW I AM SEEING THE LIGHT.

Guess what the majority of my texts are? Humiliating things I wish I could take back! Whether it’s an overly crass comment that does not need to be immortalized, a misguided attempt at a late-night booty call, or a straightforward and sincere declaration I am too uncomfortable to say out loud… never a good idea! Because now there is physical evidence of whatever humiliating statement was blurted out!

AND ON IPHONE IT LOGS IT ALL FOREVER. Technically you can delete conversations, but I don’t do that. No matter how horrendous, I like to preserve it. Maybe it’s just a masochistic urge to punish myself and remind myself why I really, really need to think before I send. And so I can read and re-read exactly what I said and overanalyze the million different ways it could be interpreted and judged.

I’m starting to think that perhaps online chatting is the preferable method of communication (as long as you’re sober). For some reason, I just feel like I think before I type. I’m not as blasé when my fingers are roaming an actual keyboard. Then again, gchat does record everything just like iPhone. Meaning self-esteem boosting gems such as this can be forever commemorated:

 …sooooooooo I think my new preferred method of communication is handwritten letters, delivered by the traditional mail service. Then at least whatever regretful statements I write down will be out of my hands and into the “lucky” recipients’. Plus pencils (remember those?) have erasers so I can actually edit myself before putting it out there. I suppose I could also look into carrier pigeons and telegraph service. Actually, come to think of it, I’m not sure if I really even know what a telegraph is. But I’m pretty sure they aren’t effective for late night bad decision conversations, so at least I can cut myself off at the pass.