June272008

Frosting Update

Oh my God. I think I’m going to die.
6PM
VICTORY!!!
This afternoon, one full week ahead of schedule, I finished the can of chocolate frosting.  While I’m sweaty, nauseous, and have a headache, I know that this endeavor is noble and that I have done something for the greater good.  Jeff Rosenberg just passed by my desk and called the empty can “the filthiest thing he’s ever seen.”  My work here is done.

VICTORY!!!

This afternoon, one full week ahead of schedule, I finished the can of chocolate frosting. While I’m sweaty, nauseous, and have a headache, I know that this endeavor is noble and that I have done something for the greater good. Jeff Rosenberg just passed by my desk and called the empty can “the filthiest thing he’s ever seen.” My work here is done.

June262008

140 Calories Per 2 Tablespoons

Right now on my desk at CollegeHumor there is a can of Pillsbury Creamy Supreme Milk Chocolate Frosting, which I discovered a few weeks ago in the kitchen and stole for myself. This confectionary treat has become my constant work companion— I eat it every day with my fingers while sitting at my computer, prompting my co-workers to say things like “That’s disgusting,” and “You’re going to give yourself diabetes,” and “I bet the night janitor does gross things to that can when we’ve all left the building.” I don’t care though, even if I always do have food all over my face like the Leonardo DiCaprio character in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?. My big summer goal is to finish the entire can by July 4th weekend, and then move onto the vanilla frosting that is also on the kitchen shelf. Sadly enough, this is perhaps the most ambitious undertaking on which I’ve ever focused. I will keep all of you posted.
June252008
My deskmate Caldwell, who is CH’s super-talented illustrator intern, drew this for me after I asked him to design me a new blog header.  I think he did a great job and really captures my squirreliness well— even if Managing Editor Jeff Rubin claims I look like “the cartoon version of Sabrina the Teenage Witch.”  (This is actually not totally inaccurate.)  Now I just need to buy emilyrose.com from the people who currently hold it, learn how to code websites, and I’m all set! My deskmate Caldwell, who is CH’s super-talented illustrator intern, drew this for me after I asked him to design me a new blog header.  I think he did a great job and really captures my squirreliness well— even if Managing Editor Jeff Rubin claims I look like “the cartoon version of Sabrina the Teenage Witch.”  (This is actually not totally inaccurate.)  Now I just need to buy emilyrose.com from the people who currently hold it, learn how to code websites, and I’m all set!
June232008
Now I finally understand why people use “summer” as a verb.
The northeast is the only region of the United States I’ve never visited, and I have no idea what took me so long.  This weekend I took the Metro-North to go see Houli in Connecticut and arrived with two initial goals: get a tan and consume as many crabcakes as possible.  After those were accomplished, we worked on Houli’s sailboat, went to the beach, visited the historic Mystic Seaport, drank drinks with ridiculous names, and ate lobster with our hands.  Any day I get to swim in the ocean is a good day.

Now I finally understand why people use “summer” as a verb.

The northeast is the only region of the United States I’ve never visited, and I have no idea what took me so long.  This weekend I took the Metro-North to go see Houli in Connecticut and arrived with two initial goals: get a tan and consume as many crabcakes as possible.  After those were accomplished, we worked on Houli’s sailboat, went to the beach, visited the historic Mystic Seaport, drank drinks with ridiculous names, and ate lobster with our hands.  Any day I get to swim in the ocean is a good day.

June192008
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

If I Could Do It Again- Corey Smith

This song makes me insanely happy.  Not only does it remind me of my best friend Paige (who first introduced me to the track), but it’s about the pursuit of reckless adventure in the absence of common sense.  Perfect for summer.

June172008

Anyone who’s the least bit familiar with this blog knows how much I love pop-country music, and lately I have been completely digging Sugarland’s 2004 #1 single, “Baby Girl,” which is the singer’s letter to her parents after moving to the big city. At the beginning of the song, the speaker writes asking for some cash— “not much, just enough to make it through”— and by the final verse, she’s finally hit it big, and is the one sending sending money to her parents. I listen to this song constantly, and relate to its folksy charm in the face of scary, metropolitan intimidation and adventure. However, after about my thousandth listen tonight, I took pause at this lyric:

Black top, blue sky, big town full of little white lies.
Well, everybody’s your friend— you can never be sure.
They’ll promise fancy cars and diamond rings, all sorts of shiny things,
But, girl, remember what your knees are for.

It made me think, hold on, is Sugarland advocating giving blow jobs in exchange for material possessions? Is singer Jennifer Nettles just a savvy prostitute? And then I realized, oh yeah: prayer. That’s what she means when she says “what knees are for.” Not everything relates back to beejes. Right.

June162008

Going All DMX

Sometimes it’s difficult for me to feel comfortable in New York, but one thing that always off-sets this anxiety is big corporate chains. I can walk into a McDonalds, and, because of it’s uniformity and familiarity (called McDonaldization in my Sociology 110 class), I feel like I’m back in Ohio again. It’s comforting.

So today, realizing I was in need of a desk lamp, laundry detergent, and a bikini, I headed to that great catchall of big business emporiums: Target. Apparently Manhattan people don’t believe in the place, so I had to track the 40 minutes or so on the train out to Brooklyn. (I moved to the city yesterday from BK.) And at first, the store seemed fine: it has all the stuff with which I’m familiar, and its giant red emblem shone prouder and brighter than ever. Yet, at check-out with my desk lamp, laundry detergent, and bikini (all for a cool fifty dollars, thanks Target!), some wild-eyed homeless guy started screaming to the tiny Indian cashier, “You just assaulted me! Call the cops! Call ‘em! I’m ‘bout to go all DMX on yo’ ass!”

That’s when I realized that corporate conformity or not, there’s nowhere else like New York City. (Awww, cue cheesy Sex and the City fade-out music.)

June142008

There are no laws in Queens.

  • Two weeks ago:
  • Manhattan bouncer: ID, please?
  • Me: [hands over badly-laminated fake, my hands shaking] Here you go.
  • Manhattan bouncer: What's your zipcode?
  • Me: Ahh... you know, can I just have it back and leave? No harm done.
  • Manhattan bouncer: I'll tell you where you can get it back. At 2:30 AM, go to the Ninth Precinct. They will have your ID, and they will give it back to you, and issue you a ticket.
  • Last night:
  • Queens bouncer: ID, please?
  • Me: [digging into purse] Actually, sir, I forgot my wallet.
  • Queens bouncer: Eh... that's fine. Come on in.
  • Me: Thanks!
  • Queens bouncer: Wait... are you 21?
  • Me: Yes.
  • Queens bouncer: Yeah, come on in.
June122008
“Get back to work. You’re smiling, which means I can tell you’re not writing.” instant message from Jake Klocksien, who understands the suffering of artists
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