Shopping Thoughts

So Jamie, Kate and I went shopping. This is usually a joyful experience for me. Not so much last night. Why is it that tall sizes are 33inches in length?? What genuinely tall person wears that length of pants? I’m practically a 36. This is ridiculous. And I really REALLY don’t want to spend in excess of $50 on a pair of pants that I have to dry clean anyway. GR!

Slackers.

First of all, what is it that these war protesters do for a living? Or are they of the many unemployed? What is the deal? Of course, they did start their protests after 5 and there were a few people in business suits…

Secondly, I work for the company that has the Army account. This means that we are automatically evil. Therefore we have protesters outside of our building. It’s a mild nuisance because sometimes we have to use different doors. But even then, not a big deal. And it was really not entirely a surprise when I heard on ABC this morning that there would be protesters at the Federal Buildings, the Boeing Headquarters and Leo Burnett. Not too shocking at all. The news cast indicated that the protesters would arrive at my office around the same time I would. I kind of looked forward to the excitement of rowdy protesters at 8 a.m.

As I walked to work, I passed the Boeing HQs. There was a paddy wagon in front of the building and blue barricades on the sidewalk. But, alas, no protesters! It was a few minutes past 8 a.m. I thought, “Perhaps these protesters are stuck in traffic or there was a long line at Starbucks.” A few minutes later, I arrived at my building. A block west of my building there were a few more squad cars than normal. There were a few officers putting on their riot gear, which was kind of thrilling. I always wanted to have a dangerous and exciting job!

I walked through the back entrance of my building and up the stairs to the lobby. Nothing was different. The doors on Wacker were free of any crazy protesters. I checked the time: 8:10 a.m. I talked to the security guards at the elevator.

“Hey guys, where are the protesters?” I asked.

“I dunno,” said the shorter one, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess they’re late.”

Which brings me to the greater societal issue at hand. Punctuality. Movies, shows, trains–never on time any more! It’s not to say they’re always late–sometimes trains have been early (something that also strands me on the platform if I don’t get there to cross in time), sometimes movies close the doors before the previews. Being ON TIME is a lost art. I am guilty. I bet you are too! You say you aren’t, but I know you are. What’s worse about the people who are early is that they then complain about people who are on time or late. They have cheesy mantras like, “Early is on time, on time is late.” This is to guilt the rest of us into their sick game.

What it all boils down to is it just isn’t good enough. And maybe that’s what the protesters are REALLY protesting.

“Whiney Time” is a Public Service Announcement brought to you courtesy of Crazed Caffeine Deprieved Chicks, Inc and This Bad Body Day, LLC.

First of all, I feel FAAAAAAT. Really, really fat. And ugly. urgh. This is what happens when your best fantasies involve chocolate… lots of chocolate. Swimming in chocolate. And in my perfect world, there wouldn’t be any hygeine issues relating to swimming in chocolate.

Secondly, my mom and I were talking on the phone. Then she put me on hold. Then she never came back. What kind of world is it when your MOTHER puts you on hold and never comes back??

I am itching to run a lap or something.

Have I mentioned that I’m getting old now too? OLD. I am decrepit, practically. Hmm. I wonder if the AA has any more brownies at her table?

NO! Emily, don’t think bad thoughts… Finish writing in your blogger and catch the train home. And go to the mall! That will stop you from eating… (courtesy of my inner conscience)

Oh! My mood is improving! Shoppy-shop time! I can’t wait!

Anyone want to go with me???

RA!!!!! YAY!! Spirit fingers!!!

I’ll let you all know how it turns out! CHEERS!

Today is icky. My tummy is throwing temper tantrums, as is my hair. Obviously for different reasons. My back hurts. Blah blah blah.

I’ll write something more inspired later.

Is it wrong that this exerpt from the NBC News update made me laugh?

FBI: Flight Attendant Spiked Kid’s Juice To Stop Crying

A Northwest Airlines flight attendant denies charges that he spiked a child’s

apple juice to put an end to her tantrum. Drink Tested Positive For

Prescription Drug

Hee hee.

Okay, I know–I should be working. But I don’t care. I was just in my training class and by 11:30 the sound of my professor’s voice is enough to send me climbing the walls! I can’t handle it!!!!

On the plus side, I did the cross word (okay, 30% of it) while she was going through some review stuff. Ah. Mondays.

Today was a record breaking 2 degress when I was waiting for the train. Have I mentioned that I hate the cold?? Anyway, I froze my bottom off waiting for the train. It pulls up to the station and only one side of the double sliding doors opens. I think, “Whatever, get me on this train! I am cold!”

The heat on the train was broken. But see, it wasn’t COLD… it was just chilly. Which means I wasn’t freezing, but I never got warm. Wow. I’m a whiner.

But anyway, the walk from the station to work was freezing cold and now I have to go to training. Sigh.

THE Dress.

Okay, JCrew won. I bought the dress. I took my mom and she said, “Oh, that is so cute. And look, these sandals go with the dress! How marvelous…”

But no worries. I only bought the dress. It’s in my car should I decide that I am not worthy of such a pretty dress. It’s SO pretty. Ask Jamie. It’s hottt. Now I just need to figure out what shoes to wear with it. Maybe I can find some strappy sandals?

Oh… but speaking of the dress…

Today is a fat day. All men beware! I figured a warning shot is fair enough.

Until later… Bye!

Last night we all went to Famous Freddie’s to celebrate Jamie’s sister’s birthday. Frank and I got there early to grab some eats before a night of drinking began. Frank and the beef sandwich (mooooo!) and I had the BBQ Chicken (bawk, bawk!) (noises sold separately). It was cheap and yummy. Actually, my diet coke cost more than my sandwich. How screwie is that?

After we finished eating and scoping out the crowd, Dorothy, Erik, Craig, Jamie, Debbie, Michelle and Chris arrived. We heard about the rockin’ downstairs area and decided to check it out. The music was pumping and there were a few free tables so we set up camp.

“ANY LADIES WEARING THONGS TONIGHT!?” screamed the DJ.

“Woooooooooooo!” replied a bunch of ladies in the crowd in an apparent tempt to lure in hook ups. The men who were previously standing idly by, rushed to the stage to meet these women.

“Come on up to the stage, you thong clad women!!” encouraged the DJ. All of a sudden the “Wooo”ing females in the crowd went silent. Hmmm, they collectively thought, I’m not really wearing a thong–those things hurt like nobody’s business! There were a few brave (drunk?) women who climbed up on the stage. “WOOO!” they yelled and then the women stood there, waiting for the DJ to do something. The DJ scratched his head. The two women on stage looked at him expectantly. This thong idea didn’t work as well as he had thought it would.

“Any men out there with great chests?”

Now all the men in the audience who had expected to see some thong action got confused. What happened to the thong-th-thong-thong-thong? they all thought, I don’t want to see some dude’s pecs!

“How about any guys with great butts?” called out the DJ as the situation deteriorated. Then a lightbulb went off in the DJ’s head, “How about women who think they are hot!!!” The same thong clad women got back on stage. “Nevermind,” said the DJ as he wisely turned up the volume of the music. The men stampeded off the dance floor, back to the safety of their drinks.

During this whole situation, Frank and I were cajoling eachother into going on stage. “Frank, you have a hot butt! You go!” Heh.

So as I continued to down the drinks, I got fiesty. “Dor? Michelle?” I said, “Let’s go DANCING!!!”

The three foxiest women on the dance floor really cut a rug. We were cutting SUCH a rug, we decided to get on the stage thing. “I wanna be a COWboy BABY!” we sang as we lassoed the air. I looked back at our table where my boyfriend adoringly watched as he did shots and drank beer. I waved and then seductively (sort of) gestured to him to join me on stage. Making his way across the crowded dance floor, he hopped on stage.

A firm hand appeared out of nowhere, stopping Frank in his tracks. “Excuse me, sir. Ladies only on the stage.” Casting a longing look at me, Frank was escorted from the stage. Hee hee.

It turned out to be okay because the next song sucked and we returned to the table. So that was about it for our evening. Anthony and Frank drank some more, Erik and Frank did another shot of Jack and we headed out into the wild night air.

I was the DD (my massive drinking was actually diet coke…). That’s about it!

The End.

Love,

Em