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Infomercials: I love you.

May 25, 2010

Last weekend my boyfriend was away visiting friends in Pennsylvania. That left me alone to paint my nails, dance to 80s music around the apartment, take up the entire bed, and to watch as many infomercials as my little heart desired. I love infomercials. I can’t even explain to you how much I love them. I think they are God’s single greatest gift to earth. Everytime I watch one, it takes all the strength in the world to whip my credit card out and dial the number on the television screen flashing in front of me. When Billy Mays died, a piece of me died with him.

So back in my middle school/early high school days, my friend Katie used to sleep over almost every night during the summer. Along with downloading Limp Bizkit songs off of Napster and watching Bewitched reruns on Nick at Night, we would stay up until the wee hours in the morning to watch infomercials. We watched them so often, we could practically quote them. We had our favorites: kitchen gadgets and beauty products, and our not so favorites: hardware tools and cleaning devices. Nothing compared to NADS. Nads was and still is in my opinion, the best infomercial to ever be aired. This product was used for hair removal. This gel based substance went onto your skin like butter and left your legs smooth and gorgeous. This was the greatest ever. I’m pretty sure we begged both of our moms on more than one occasion to buy us Nads (only 4 easy payments of $18.99…a $175 value!), but it just wasn’t happening.

Finally, about half way through the school year, Nads had made its way to the “As Seen on TV” shelf at Walgreens. We were fucking ELATED. We would never have to shave our legs again! No more cuts and nicks! No more sticky waxy mess! This was real. It was happening.

We couldn’t get back to Katie’s house fast enough to try this out. We ran into her room and got started right away. Now, the infomercial SAID there was no need to heat the gel up. It would go on all nice and smooth. Ok. We had our popsicle sticks ready. We opened the lid and dove in. The sticks couldn’t even break the top layer. Fuck. We decided that it was probably because it had been shipped to the store and sat on the shelf for awhile. We threw the tub into the micro for a few seconds and then settled back on the floor. This time, it looks like it was going to work. It looked JUST like the commercial. I volunteered my leg to be first. I mean, this stuff was supposed to be painless, so what was I to worry about?

The second that green goop touched my leg I wanted to cry. NOT out of excitement mind you. That stuff was so fucking hot, it could burn satan himself. I held back the is pain. I pressed the white strip on my leg and waited a minute to make sure it really stuck on there. I slowly started to tug at the corner, and I could tell it was going to hurt already.

“Katie..I need you to pull it off for me. I can’t do it.”
“But..its not supposed to hurt. The infomercial SAID its not supposed to hurt!”
“I know. But, its going to. Just do it!”

She finally ripped it off. Oh. My. God. I had never been in so much pain in my life. I BLED. I fucking BLED from this shit. Some areas of my skin were so raw that I looked like a fucking hamburger and the other areas were still prickly. Nads was shit.

I could’ve gone two ways with this. I could’ve said “fuck it, this is terrible. I’m done” OR I could’ve tried again, just to make sure it would hurt as much as it did the first time. I am an idiot. I deserved what I got. Why? Because I decided to try again.

And it hurt.

A lot.

Just as much as the first time.

I screamed. I bled. I cried. I almost slapped Katie.

Moral of the story: never trust what you see on television. I still haven’t learned. If Billy Mays came back to life and tried to sell a body bag to me, I’d buy it in a heartbeat. I recently bought a set of bump-its. Guess what? They don’t work in my hair. I look like a fucking pterodactyl. I am seriously considering buying the Pedegg. I don’t even have rough feet (I have alien/baby feet. Thats a different story for a different day), but I STILL want it.

Does anyone else have this same reaction to infomercials? I know I can’t be the only one because Katie and I still talk about infomercials. All. The. Time.

pz owt.

Edit: Katie just told me that Nads tastes better than it works. I don’t…I just don’t know. I had no words but I am currently questioning our friendship.


I don’t even care if this is photoshopped. So gross/hilarious.

May 19, 2010
tags: ,


There’s a full moon…this afternoon?

May 18, 2010

Every Tuesday and Thursday I go over to the other building at my work and I get a soda. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my long days so I feel like I deserve a reward for making it through 10 hours of torturous grown-up life. So, a few months ago I went next door and bought said soda. I slipped $1.25 into the machine. My fingers were tingling with excitement as I pressed the buttons “A,3”. The swirly coil thing (is there a word for that) started to recoil and let lose the delicious soda nectar. It fell to into the slot and I eagerly reached in and grabbed it. I was just SO ready for this coke. Like, I couldn’t wait to get back to my office and guzzle the drink down. And before I get 8347832943 comments saying “OMG, lyke soda is sOoOoOoO bad 4 u!” I don’t care. So are oreos. Please just stop.

So I walked back to my car, happy as a damn clam even though it was blistering cold out and I couldn’t really feel my face. It had been a hard day so far and I just wanted some alone time. I normally wait until I get back to my office to crack that coke baby open (I couldn’t resist), but today was different. I needed that caffeine. I needed the sweet taste of liquid cavities. I pulled out of the parking lot and as I stop at the stop sign, I open the coke. Ah, the first sip. So inviting and so refreshing. I had to have more. There was a line of busses in front of me and one bus driver was nice enough to let me cut in front of her. So, I pulled into traffic and sat in between 2 school busses.

Now, I was new to the area at that point. It was late in the day so  I figured that this must be an elementary or middle school just getting out for the day. As I am sitting there sipping on my coke, I noticed that the kids in the back of the bus that was in front of me were all waving at me and making funny faces. I am FAR too cool to acknowledge them. I’m 23 for God’s sake. I just couldn’t be bothered. I know now that whenever ANYONE waves to me while I’m in my car, whether I know them or not, I should just really wave back because nothing, and I mean NOTHING could’ve prepared my for what was about to happen.

So like I said, I was sipping on my coke, ignoring the kids in front of me and all of a sudden I see a butt. And not like a cute little infant baby butt…I saw a prepubescent dude butt pressed up against the glass.

. . . . .

Of course I am in mid-sip when I see this and I spit out my coke and in a panic drop the bottle. My precious coke was not only all over my steering wheel but it was also all over my crotch. I mean, really. I couldn’t even. I. COULDNT. EVEN. Like, what am I supposed to do at that point? I am on a break from work (which I live a half hour away from so going home to change wasn’t an option), I am stuck in a line of traffic between 2 busses, I have a sticky steering wheel, AND my crotch and legs were covered in soda.

I sat there in my car for what felt like 4 hours enduring the silent laughter of six 10 year olds. I couldn’t even look at them. You know its bad when you can’t look a 10 year old in the eye because you are SO embarrassed. Whats a girl to do?

I finally got to my own parking lot. I blasted the heat so I didn’t look like I peed myself (I still did regardless) and walked into my office with my head held high. I announced that I did not pee myself, I just dropped my soda and that everything was fine, I sat down at my desk and continued on with my day. Dignity-less, grace-less, and most of all soda-less.

tweetin, twittin, tootin.

May 16, 2010

by the by, please follow me on twitter!!


you won’t regret it. much.

The Tale of the Laundry Chute

May 15, 2010

Warning: This is going to be a long one (thats what he said).

Please keep in mind that in many of these stories, I am not the leading lady. In some, I am just somehow involved and in others, its a group effort. Also, about 90% of my stories being thrown at you involve my cousins and/or family members. For their benefit and for privacy purposes, I am going to change their names. This is really only because I don’t want to ask all 500 of my cousins if I can use their names while regaling these hilarious anecdotes. Lets face it, I’m lazy. Stop judging me.

So, I would like to tell you what I affectionately call “The Tale of the Laundry Chute”. This is my go-to story. When there is an awkward silence, I let break this baby out. I honestly can’t get enough of this story and I rarely make it through without dissolving into a fit of giggles. And yes, I know its probably not the best idea to put this story out into the blogosphere so early in my baby blog’s life, but I don’t care because I LOVE it. Again, stop judging.

Now what you must understand is that when I say that I have 500 cousins, I really only mean like 10. But thats still a lot to have on one side of the family. And THAT means that there was at least one birthday/holiday/random cookout/dinner party a month, so we saw each other a lot. Honestly, there is only so many nintendo games you can play with each other until boredom sets in. We had to get creative.

When I was about 10 or 11, my aunt and uncle re-did their bathroom and decided to put in a laundry chute. The hole to said laundry chute was inside a cabinet. One of us got a brilliant idea to jump down it. We ran all over the house gathering pillows, blankets, sheets, cushions, laundry, and anything else we could find and piled it underneath the hole in the basement (safety first!). We then had to decide who was going to be “the tester”. At first, everyone looked at me to do it. Nice try, guys. I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid. We then decided that Sarah would do it. It is still debated if we decided this for her or if she volunteered for the job. Either way, she was going in.

Into the cabinet she went. Now, I don’t know how Sarah managed what was about it happen or how none of us even realized what was happening, but shit took a wrong turn as soon as she got into the cabinet. Sarah ended up climbing into the hole with her hands at her sides. We had stationed Courtney and Jeremy in the basement in case something went wrong. Lauren and I were in the bathroom helping Sarah in. Everything was running smoothly until Sarah got stuck in the hole at her elbows. Sarah’s legs were dangling from the ceiling in the basement while her top half was still in the bathroom. I remember her just looking at us and saying:


Sarah’s eyes were starting to well up.


We were such dicks.

Lauren ran down the stairs to the basement to update Courtney and Jeremy. You know, just in case they couldn’t tell something had gone horribly wrong with our plan and that the poor girl was stuck in the laundry chute. We tried pulling Sarah out, we tried pushing her down. We did everything our prepubescent undeveloped brains could think of. NOTHING was working. So- we decided to leave her there. She’d be fiiiine, right? We shrugged, closed the cabinet doors, left the bathroom, and sat quietly in the living room.

Naturally, my aunts and uncles were suspicious. When they asked what we were doing, I think we all said a combination of “nothing!”, “waiting for dinner!”, “knitting a sweater!”, “solving world hunger!”, “carpentry!” you know, the usual. We were all silently praying no would ask “Where’s Sarah?”, but the dreaded questions was asked. At that moment, we all looked at each other and mumbled

“Sarah is in the laundry chute”

After that, the memory gets fuzzy. Sarah was freed from her cabinet prison unscathed but possibly a little emotionally damaged (she’ll be fiiiiine). We all (aunts and uncles included) still talk about that day. Putting someone down a laundry chute is something one would do when drunk, nevermind 10 years old and dead sober. I guess we are just really mature or really retarded. I still haven’t decided yet. Its probably a good thing that we only drink with each other on holidays because I can’t even imagine the shenanigans we could come up with when drunk.

I can’t even blame anyone else for dragging me into this situation. I openly and willingly helped shove (or try to) Sarah down a laundry chute. Consider this as my apology, my dear cousin. I think I speak on the behalf of everyone when I say “Holy shit, I am so sorry”. But…it’s still pretty funny though!

I wanted to be a Unicorn.

May 11, 2010

When I was little, I wanted to be a ballerina, a model, a nurse, and most of all- a unicorn. Yeah. A unicorn. I just had really high hopes for myself, okay? So anyways, I dropped this a-bomb on my parents at the ripe age of 3. They found it absolutely adorable (not that I can blame them) and said “You can be whatever you want to be!’ I took this as an insult. W. T. F. Why weren’t they taking me seriously? Here I am planning my life out and they are treating me like the 3 year old that I am! Blasphemy. Absolute blasphemy. So I did the only logical thing I could think of and decided to run away. I packed up my blanket that folds into a pillow (SO convenient!), a juicebox, some bandaids, a clean pair of undies, and a plastic Minnie Mouse umbrella. I was fully prepared to float away into the sky Mary Poppins style.
I stood in that yard for a solid 2 hours waiting for the wind to take me away. Thanks again, Disney, for giving me false hope. Not only could I not be a mythical creature, I also could not run away properly. Again: W.T.F.

Cut to about 15 years later and I am applying to colleges. After enduring the question “So what do you want to major in?” “What are you going to do with your life?” about 2784398423 times, I finally said to my mom:

“You know what? I’m just going to move to Vegas and become a stripper”

I didn’t really know what to expect from my mother after I made this statement. Would she laugh? Would she throw me out of the car? I did not know.

“You should, Em. Why not?”

Now, I know she wasn’t serious. I DO know this. but…um. What? Wait…what?  I am glad my family thinks so highly of me. I consider this 30 second conversation the reason why I went to college in the first place. There was a little while where I was thinking otherwise.
I mean, not only am I wildly talented and full of potential, I am also dripping with talent. Especially for exotic dance. Next time you’re in Vegas, holla at me!

Cut to 6 years later. I now have a bachelors degree from UMass in SOCIOLOGY (aka nothing) (aka not exotic dance) (aka glad that motivation went somewhere positive) (aka question mark) and I am working at a photography institute. So….not Lamplighters or Centerfolds.
Now, the other night I came home from work and I turned on MTV to find out that they are making a show based of the Jersey Shore called Massholes. UMMM…I AM PRETTY SURE THAT I TOLD PEOPLE THAT THEY SHOULD MAKE A SHOW CALLED MASSHOLES TO COUNTER ACT THE JERSEY SHORE. And by pretty sure, I mean DEFINITELY. I’ll say it again: W.T.F. First off, I would make a GREAT cast member for this show. I am pretty sure that if you looked up the word “masshole”, my picture would not only be in the dictionary, but there wouldn’t even be a proper meaning next to the word. It would just be my picture and everyone would just look at it and understand immediately.

So in other words…I’m thinking I should probably make a career change. Actually, I don’t even have a career at this point so it wouldn’t even be THAT big of a deal, right? Plus, if it doesn’t work out I could always fall back on stripping.

Or being a unicorn.

One Big Awkward Moment

May 10, 2010

I’m not afraid to admit that I am the most awkward person I know. I’m proud if it, actually. I embrace my awkwardness. If I had a book about me it would be called: The Life of Emily: One Big Awkward Moment (A Memoir). I might look into publishers soon. Haven’t decided yet. We’ll see how it goes.

Anyways, you know how kids go through “the awkward stage” at like 9-13 (approximately). Well, I feel like I never grew out of that phase. It just sort of stuck with me. And its not like I gradually grew into this. Oh no. I was pretty much awkward from the start of my social life. Lets flash back to 6 year old Emily. 1st grade. Circa 1993:

I’m sitting on the carpet with the rest of my classmates listening to some lame ass story my teacher is reading (what up Mrs. Cignoli!). I want to mention I was cute as a fucking button. CUTE. AS. A. FUCKING. BUTTON. As I’m sure we all remember, it was really cool to wear one strap undone on your suspenders. I distinctly remember wearing white overall jean shorts with purple and pink flowers all over them, a purple shirt, and some sort of kick ass headband my mom made me in my hair. I told you- cute as a button. Anyways, I’m sitting on the carpet and listening to this story and I look down at my overall straps. Much to my dismay, I had BOTH clasped on. The horror! The number of early nineties fashion rules I was breaking was incomprehensible. Luckily, it was easily fixed. I unclasped a strap and I could finally breathe easy. Before I knew it, it was time to get up and go back to our desks. Now, OF COURSE I was the first person to stand up. OF COURSE I was. Unfortunately, my eyes were playing tricks on me that day. OR I was just retarded. Probably the latter, because when I had unclasped my overall strap during story time ONE OF THEM WAS ALREADY UNDONE. Oh yes. I didn’t realize this until I stood up and my overall jean shorts fell to my ankles. Naturally, the whole class laughed at me and I felt like the ultimate fool. However, instead of running away and crying in the bathroom, I tried to play it off like I KNEW it was going to happen. Because 6 year old girls think ahead like that and want to moon the entire class with her Little Mermaid underwear. I will never, ever forget that incident.

FLASH FORWARD 13 years later: 20 year old Emily, circa 2006.

I am in the mall with Andrew. I am now a responsible (ha!) and mature (ha!) adult. When walking into H&M in the Holyoke Mall, Andrew and I split up. He walks towards the guy section and I stick to the gal section. Obviously. Hopefully that would go without saying. After a little while of perusing the clothing, I find nothing I like and try to find Andrew. I spot his green and yellow trucker hat from across the store and start to walk towards him. I also observe that he is standing in front of a rack of red and black striped shirts. I speed walk over before he can walk away and say “Oh my god! I love black and red striped shirts, you should totally get one!” I turn to look at him, and I realize….this is not Drew. THIS PERSON IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND. My face was a mix of


My thought process in the next .3 seconds was “oh my god, what do i do? do i run away? do i keep going with this? do i kill myself?”. I chose option number 3. Like my overalls incident, I decided to go with it. So I mumbled out something along the lines of “yeah, you should really buy this shirt. you should just do it. do it.” He then gave me a sympathetic smile, nervously looked around the room (looking for my caregiver, I’m sure), and then walked away. I then proceeded to run out of H&M while texting Drew this exact text “CODE RED. LEAVE STORE NOW. IN MALL. GO.” When Drew finds me outside of the store nervously pacing, I tell him the story. He proceeds to say “THIS IS WHY WE DON’T HAVE NICE THINGS EMILY” and we went to the upstairs restaurant to get some lunch so I could calm down. After 10 minutes of pounding cokes (I was 20), I cooled down. But, LOW AND BEHOLD, who walks in with their girlfriend and sits at the table DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF US? Yep. Red and black striped shirt guy. I mean, really. Naturally, he sees me and quickly breaks eye contact. To make things even more awkward, I make Drew switch seats with me so I don’t have to look at his face while I’m downing my spaghetti.

As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, I am awkward. Don’t be afraid of your awkwardness! Embrace it! You will come to terms with it at some point in your lives. Until then, stay out of most public areas.