Because this is my life now.

So remember how back in October I moved from Suburbia to Stars Hollow? (It’s true. I accidentally moved to the town that played a part as an inspiration for my favorite show, Gilmore Girls.)

To refresh your memory, I grew up on the equivalent of Wisteria Lane (with slightly less drama and murder) and then at the age of 23 decided to kiss it all goodbye and left my 3/4 acre yard in the dust and relocated here:

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That is my yard now. See that white dot at the bottom of the hill? That’s where I eat, sleep, and read.

So a fun fact about this area is that we don’t have cell phone service in most places. It’s not really a big deal because I have wi-fi and a landline, so it’s not like I’m cut off from the world or anything.

Until my phone/internet goes down out of nowhere like it did yesterday.

I figured it was some weird glitch at first, and decided to just go outside and read for a bit and then come back in to see if it had started working again later. Because, you know, technology heals itself.

When that didn’t work, I went through the normal procedure first, which was to go downstairs, unplug the router, wait 30 seconds, plug it back in aaaaaaand…. nothin’.

Alright, fine. Let’s unplug the router and the modem!

Nothin’.

So… I grabbed my cell phone, found the number for customer service, and started hiking up that hill you see pictured above. About halfway up is when you’ll probably get one bar, maybe two if it’s a clear day, so that is where I set up camp.

http://itcrowdgif.tumblr.com/

After fighting with the robot lady for a while who kept asking me to say things that I didn’t feel like saying, she finally informed me that if I didn’t like her, I could say “AGENT” at any time and a real human would be along to assist me. So, I said “AGENT” in my best Liam Neeson voice, which I’m assuming instilled some amount of fear in the robot lady because she didn’t even say goodbye. She just stopped in the middle of her sentence and then there was an awkward silence, eventually followed by the sound of the phone ringing. Conclusion? I intimidate robots.

CS: Thank you for calling customer service, this is Lauren, how can I help you?

Me: Hi, Lauren, my name’s Emelie. My internet and phone have been down for about an hour now and I was curious as to whether or not you could help with that?

Lauren: Oh, well I am just so sorry to hear that, Emelie, can I have the main phone number on the account?

Me: Sure.

Lauren: Okay… did you try unplugging the router and plugging it back in?

Me: … yes.

Lauren: Okay… Can you tell me which lights are blinking on the modem?

Me: Well… here’s where our situation becomes interesting, Lauren. I live in The Land of Noooo Cell Phone Service, which most of the time is actually quite magical, but in this instance is a little annoying, so I’m actually standing halfway up a giant hill behind my house right now in order to be able to speak with you. I can tell you which lights I think I remember being on when I plugged the modem in half an hour ago?

Lauren: Hm… well… the thing is that from the looks of things on my end, you’re online and everything is fine. Could you do me a favor and just pick up your landline and test it out for me?

Me: … I could…. but that is also in the house, so… it would be a few minutes… because I’d have to run back to the house… but I can tell you that it wasn’t working right before I walked up here.

Lauren: Yeah…. I don’t think we have any other option.

So… I begrudgingly set my phone down in the middle of the grass and ran down the hill. I got into my house and picked up my phone and WHAT DO YOU KNOW IT’S FRICKIN’ WORKING.

I glared at the phone for a second before I remembered Lauren, who was still waiting for me on the hillside.

So I ran back up the hill, which was great, because I’m totally in great shape and running up steep hillsides is like… all I ever want to do.

Me (breathing heavily): Lauren?

Lauren: Yup!

Me: It’s…working… now…

Lauren: Yeah, I told you everything looked fine…

Me: I swear… I’m not… crazy.

Lauren: Nah, sometimes glitches happen. I’ll make a note on your account in case this ever happens again. Also did you know that we offer a free service to all our —

At that moment two GIANT TRACTORS came bumping down the hill behind me OUT OF EFFING NOWHERE.

Me: Uh… Lauren, I’m gonna have to cut you off… there are large mechanical devices coming at me now because this is where I live. Thanks so much for all your help!

So I back out of the way and let the tractors (WHO ARE THEY AND WHAT DO THEY WANT??) go past me, waving politely as if to be all “Oh, don’t mind us, we’re just a couple of TRACTORS hanging out in your yard.” It was then that I realized that I didn’t in fact intimidate the robot lady on the phone, but instead I clearly INFURIATED her and now her army was descending upon me. I’VE SEEN THE DOCUMENTARY, BATTLESTAR GALACTICA, AND I KNOW HOW THIS ENDS.

I should clarify: There were men driving these tractors. The tractors were not speaking to me or waving at me because that would be insane, and as much as I totally wish I lived in a world where farm animals and equipment could talk, I don’t take the drugs for that.

The second guy driving the tractor stopped suddenly and turned around.

Me: How’s it going?

Tractor guy: You should watch out for poison ivy around here!

I looked down at my ballet flats and looked back up.

Me: Oh… yeah. Thanks!

Because, you know, poison ivy was my concern at this point. The two random men on tractors in my yard? Those are, apparently, totally normal.

So, I ran back down the hill, waving goodbye to the tractors as they drove away, and just as I got inside, my phone rings. Obviously.

Me: Hello?

Boss’s husband: Emelie! What are you doing around 4?

Me: Um… Nothing. What do you  need?

Boss’s husband: We need some help. Feel like baling some hay at our farm?

Me: Oh… sure. That seems like a skill I should acquire at this point.

Boss’s husband: Great! See you in a few hours.

So…that was my Sunday. What did you do?

 

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I’m baaaaaack!

So sorry to disappear on all of you for so long, Duckies! I’ve been out of the country for the past week or so for a family reunion in Sweden. (Yes. The new NBC show is actually quite accurate.) It was glorious and wonderful and all the positive words we could all think of and then when we run out of positive words that exist in all the languages, we’d have to create more in order to sum up just how much I love it in my family’s homeland. However, as you all know, I have a tendency to embarrass myself…. and Sweden did not take that away.

For those of you who follow me on Instagram, you’ve seen the photos and all that, but here’s just a little taste of how the whole trip started…

Checking in at the airport…

My internal monologue: Lalala, time to go to Sweden… Oh! The check-in line is super short! Like… only 3 people! Awesome!

Check-in Dude: I can help you here, miss!

Me: Thanks!

Check-in DudeHow are you today?

Me: Super! And yourself?

Check-in Dude: Good, thank you. …You know there’s a business line right here, right?

Me: …I did not.

My internal monologue: Am I at the wrong desk? Does this guy only take business class flyers? Emelie, that’s idiotic. He waved you over here from the regular line… Oh, he’s talking again.

Check-in Dude: Ha, well, now you do! Anyway, this green dot will get you through the priority security line and are you familiar with our business lounge for SAS flyers?

Me: …no… Wait… am I in business class?

Check-in Dude: …yes, miss.

Me: Oh. Well… isn’t that a nice surprise. Tell me more about this lounge!

So… Thanks to my father and his Swedish Mafia glory, that happened… However, I don’t know if he thought this through, you guys. I mean… it’s me, after all. Do you really think I’m a person who can handle herself in Business Class?

Let’s just say that I made sure I sat in the corner farthest away from everyone and drank my free cocktails in what I hoped was silence. I’m not sure. I might of been drunk when I got on the plane.

And then they came around with free champagne.

And then they came around with free red or white wine.

And then I spilled red wine all over my white sweater.

Like a classy adult.

A conversation with the flight attendant just after take-off:

Flight Attendant: Anything to drink?

Me: Coffee, please?

Flight Attendant: Um… anything cold to drink? We haven’t brewed the coffee yet.

Me: Oh… Um… I’ll just wait for the coffee, I suppose.

Dad: She’ll have wine.

Me: What?

Flight Attendant: Red or White?

Dad: Red.They let me into businessclass... (2)

Me: Am I still here?

Flight Attendant: Here you are, miss!

Me: …thank you…

45 minutes later…

Flight Attendant: Someone wanted coffee?

Me: Oh thank GOD yes.

Flight Attendant: Ha, should I just keep it coming?

Me: You can just leave the pot if you want.

Dad: You have a problem…. Oh, sir, I’ll take another glass of wine.

Me: Thanks, Kettle….

 

So yeah. That was my flight TO Sweden.

And now I can never travel again because I’VE BEEN TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT CURTAIN.

 

Anyway, the rest of the trip was grand and full of family memories, as most family vacations are, and now I am back home with my dog and my neighbor’s cows and happy to be back on the internet.  See you soon!

 

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I don’t think I’m doing this whole “sexting” thing correctly, you guys.

You know when you’re in the beginnings of a romantic interest and you do your best to make sure that the other person sees mainly all the wonderful and charming details about you? As far as you and that person are concerned, everything you do is classy and elegant and super attractive.

Unless you’re me….

A text I sent to my sister on Monday morning: I just dripped coffee on my white shirt…. attempted to clean said coffee with water. Now I have a very visible boob situation. This is my life.

At least… that’s the text I meant to send to my sister.

You see, my sister’s name happens to be listed in my phone right next to the guy that I really like…the guy that I haven’t officially met in person yet because we met online and for various legitimate reasons have not been able to actually be in the same place and the same time… anyway… in my panicked state of dealing with the clusterfuck that is me, I did not, in fact, send my sister that text. The best part? I didn’t even notice the embarrassing error of my ways until I found myself in this conversation:

Guy I Like: Lol work is not the right venue for a wet t-shirt contest. You should know these things.

My internal monologue: Oh noooooo…. That is not my sister’s name… fuuuuuuuck… Where is the nearest beach? I must go to it and bury my head deep into the sand now… Okay… just go with it. You’ll be fine.

My actual response: I’ve been shunned to the back until I can present myself in a less pornographic manner.

Guy I Like: Good PR Move.

Naturally, in my panic and shame, I texted my best friend, who for legal reasons has intelligently decided to go by the name “John Hamm” on this blog.

John Hamm: BahahahahahaAwkward Sexting

Me: Because I needed to really embarrass myself with this guy eventually, right?

John Hamm: Absolutely. Law of the universe.

Me: I haven’t even officially met this guy and I’m already sending him messages about my boobs LIKE A FLOOZY.

John Hamm: In all fairness, you meant to send your flooziness to your sister.

Me: Yes, but he doesn’t know that.

John Hamm: Did you explain that to him??

Me: No! We just went with it like it was a totally normal thing for me to send him!

John Hamm: Oh my gosh…

Me: He was all “Work is not the place for a wet t-shirt contest, Emelie” and I was all MORTIFIED.

John Hamm: That’s hilarious. You could have simply just been like “For the record…”

Me: Yes, but we both know I don’t possess that level of tact…. but I am going to tell him because I have to blog about this.

John Hamm: Yes. Yes you do.

****

In other news, I was featured on The Incredible Adventures of Malleable Mom, which is kind of awesome, so you should go check her out.

AND

There’s a new Page Break video, so you should go watch that, too.

Also, this ad is amazing and I feel the need to share it with the world, because Girl Power.

 

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Because Dad Is Here.

My dad surprised me and came to visit last night, so today I am hanging out with him and making sure he doesn’t scamper off and assassinate someone, as I’m sure that that’s the real reason he’s come to town… Anyway, because he’s here, I don’t exactly have time to sit down and write a real blog post, so I’m going to re-post the one where I introduced him in the first place, seeing as how many of you are new and this post is over a year old. I felt it was time for you all to reacquaint yourselves with the glory that is my father. The frightening, frightening glory…

Anyway, without further ado, I bring you….

My Dad the Mafia Man

It’s finally time… Meet my dad:

dadgrad

He’s the one on the left… I’m the graduate. I’m sure you didn’t need that clarification, but I didn’t want anyone to be confused.

For multiple reasons, my friends and I are convinced that he is the head of the Swedish Mafia (yes, it totally could exist…). I know that when you think of mafia, you usually think of Russians, Italians, or Irishmen, but we live in Ohio’s Suburbia… Swedish only makes sense. Of course, one would think that it would make more sense if we lived in Minnesota if we were leading the Swedish Mafia, but I was two when we moved to Ohio and had absolutely no say in that decision, so STOP ARGUING WITH ME.

Anyway, here is the list of reasons why we’re convinced that my dad works for the totally real Swedish Mafia:

  • Whenever we ask my dad what he does for a living, this is his response:

 

  • For a really long time, he drove a black Chrysler 300…chrysler300

 

  • …Until recently, when he decided that this would transport bodies more efficiently:lincolntruck

 

  • He goes to the “grocery store” like… 17 times a day. There’s no reason to do that other than as a cover-up, people.
  • He travels A LOT and often without warning. Seriously, conversations with my mother will sometimes go like this:  Me: Where’s Dad? Mom: Um… I don’t know…. I think he’s in Jersey… Or maybe Atlanta. Me: What? Didn’t he just get home from Denmark? Mom: Yeah…
  • Whenever things seem like they’ll never come together, my dad always says “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” And when we ask “BUT HOW??” he just holds up his hand to silence us. Then he disappears for a few hours, and comes back with the solution. We seriously don’t know what happens. Obviously, he’s making some sort of a deal with some other guy to get things straightened out. I don’t know who’s fingers these outings cost him, but I have to find that guy and hug him… or at least give him a really nice hook.
  • He’s taken to wearing a matching track suit around the house.
  • All deals with my dad are made over a drink. If it’s a serious deal, he’ll walk you through the proper procedures of how to seal the deal by taking a shot of Swedish alcohol with one hand while your other hand rests behind your back to keep you from reaching your weapon.
  • Oh, and let’s not forget the booming Swedish accent…
  • …or the 6’6″ height and build.

When asking my dad if I could write about him in this way, this was the conversation we had via text:

Me: May I please write a blog post about you being in the mafia? ;) I’ll be clear about the fact that it’s “not true” so that you don’t get targeted. :)

Dad: What mafia?

Me: Exactly ;)

Dad: :)

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This Superpower is USELESS.

So a really great thing happened to me today.

I woke up and was all “Today is gonna be great!”

I made myself a full pot of coffee (duh) and some eggs and toast. I was all “Look at me go! Productivity! Real food!” I was totally ready for a day of writing blog posts and editing youtube videos for Page Break. This was going to be a great day.

The plan basically went like this:

  1. Wake up whenever your body decides to because today is your day off and you don’t need alarms!
  2. Take Gio outside to pee and play.
  3. Make coffee and a real breakfast! Yeah!
  4. Have a skype date.
  5. Start laundry.
  6. Write a blog post.
  7. Edit Page Break video and post it to YouTube.
  8. Read so many books or finish season 2 of Orange is the New Black, depending on your mood.
  9. Go to a party for writers at the library! Wooo!!!

Talk about a great day, am I right?

I was doing so well, you guys. Everything was going according to plan. Until right after the skype date.

First it started with a slight headache, which then turned into a major migraine, and this baby did not show up alone. It brought along its friends, Nausea and Dizziness, to come and play!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a party, but this was not on my list. I like to stick to my lists.

To make matters worse, Fever decided to show up about an hour later. I guess his friends texted him and were all “Emelie’s head is so much fun! Come play!!” and he was all “No way! I love that place! I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with this game of tag at a child’s birthday party!” (Side note: Fever sounds like a real friggin’ creeper, doesn’t he?)

Why did this happen, you ask? Well, it’s pretty simple really: I have this issue with my spine: I was born with 1.5 extra vertebrae. When the doctor told me about this, I was all “I knew it. I’m a super hero. Where’s the nearest major crime scene? I shall save EVERYONE.”

Turns out it’s a lot less awesome then one would think. Most days it just means that I have to concentrate on my posture a little more and that if I don’t do my yoga, I’ll regret it only slightly. I should also be seeing a chiropractor on a regular basis, but I haven’t looked for one found one out here yet.

The really terrible part comes on days like today: Rainy days. Not all rainy days. Thunderstorms have no effect on me, which is great because I love thunderstorms. It’s the days when rain is just kind of hanging in the air. Those overcast days where you’re just like “WOULD YOU JUST RAIN ALREADY?!” Those days make my spine freak the heck out and then everything tenses up and it all concentrates on the right side of my neck and shoulder, which then disturbs this one nerve that runs from the base of your skull to right behind your eye and that’s where the migraine feels most comfy. I don’t know, maybe it’s the spot in my head with the best view or the best couch or something. All I know is that it’s like seven different ways of terrible.

So, because of this slight interruption in my day, my list was revised and looks like this:

  1. Untitled design (2)Wake up whenever your body decides to because today is your day off and you don’t need alarms! (check!)
  2. Take Gio outside to pee and play. (check!)
  3. Make coffee and a real breakfast! Yeah! (check!)
  4. Have a skype date. (check!)
  5. Start laundry. Get hit by a bus full of awful.
  6. Write a blog post. Spend some time shakily going from your bed to the bathroom, praying that you don’t puke everywhere.
  7. Edit Page Break video and post it YouTube. Be unable to swallow any pain meds without them coming back up.
  8. Read so many books or finish season 2 of Orange is the New Black, depending on your mood.  Vow to destroy every vehicle that drives SO EFFING LOUDLY PAST YOUR HOUSE.
  9. Go to a party for writers at the library! Wooo!!!  Finally stomach some Advil and water and fall asleep for some amount of hours, which probably could have been half an Orange is the New Black marathon.
  10. Wake up and find that Migraine thinks naps are lame, so he left, but he also took all my food and energy. That douche.

So yeah… that’s when I decided to pull out my laptop and finally manage to stare at a bright screen again (with the brightness down to the lowest level possible without blacking it out completely) so that I could write to you all. Because getting this post up is more important than soup.

That and I have no soup.

UPDATE: I finished writing this blog post and was about to start proofreading when the dog puked behind the couch. I don’t know if sympathy puking is a thing, but if it is, he’s kind of the best and the worst.

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An Oldie, but a Goodie, because #TBT… and my mom.

The great thing about me posting on Thursdays is that whenever I don’t have the time, I can just be all “THROWBACK THURSDAY, BITCHES!” and then all of you, my Duckies, are just like “Yay!! Trending social media topics!! I love them!!”

In reality, I don’t have the day off today, and so I’m scrambling to throw even these few sentences together before I go to work, but I wanted to get something posted because I’m leaving for BlogU tomorrow and I’m going to be meeting all sorts of new people who also blog and I figured that they should have a chance to get to know me (or my mother) a little bit better before we meet face to face.

So… I’m going with an oldie, but a goodie, because everyone loves stories about my mom and this was her debut into the blogosphere.

Quick side note: When I originally posted this, my mom was all “OMG, I’M FAMOUS!!” and then she emailed it to her entire office and they were all “EMELIE SHOULD SEND THIS INTO ELLEN!” and that’s when I knew that I really was in Suburbia… because only middle-aged white housewives would immediately start begging me to submit my stuff to Ellen Degeneres.

Anyway… on to the Blog Post…

And My Mother Makes Her Debut… with Assless Chaps.

I have a strange life problem. Well… it’s really a blessing and a curse.

I have a hot mom.

Don’t get me wrong, 99% of the time, it freaking rocks to know that my parents are still so young looking. It bodes well for my own future. It’s the other 1% I try and block out.

Let me explain:

My mom is in her mid-fifties and she looks like she’s… well… much younger. Mind you, she has had no cosmetic surgery, the woman just teaches six aerobics classes a week, three of which are at 5:45 in the morning, and then she goes and rides her horse for at least an hour almost every day. Throw in the fact that we’re 100% Swedish and you’ve got yourself one hot mamma. Needless to say, this woman can kick my ass. She’s awesome.

She is also wonderfully weird.

We were sitting around the other day and having coffee, and the subject of Christmas came up.

Mom: Oh! If anyone is stuck on what to get me for Christmas, go to [insert big country horse supply store here]! They have so many awesome things!

Me: Okay, like what? Keep in mind that I’m poor.

Mom: Well, they even have horse treats.

Me: Mom… I’m not going to buy you a bag of horse treats for Christmas!

Mom: Well, I’ll use them!

Me: Okay.. is there something that’s in between horse treats and like… a new saddle?

Mom: Oh, I wouldn’t ask you for a saddle. Oh, but you know what, they do have these awesome leather chaps that have fringe going all the way down the sides.

Me: As in… assless chaps?

Mom: Well, yeah, Emelie. All chaps are assless.

Me: I am not buying my mother anything that can be described as assless.

Mom: Why? I think they’re cool!

Me: Let’s change the subject please. How did your burlesque aerobics class go? I admit that this might not have been the best subject change, but this is how we talk, people.

Mom: Oh, it was so much fun! We had feather boas and everything, it was great. Oh, except my friend was sick and she was so upset that she couldn’t be there.

Me: Oh, that sucks! She would have had fun.

Mom: I know, and she was supposed to make “penises in a blanket” so then we ended up not having any “penises in a blanket” :(

Me: Mom… I think it’s about time I write about you in my blog.

Mom: Really? Why?

Me: Because I love you. And someone needs to start writing down the things that you say.

I’m not kidding, though. I truly do love my mom, and I rarely pass up the opportunity to hang out with her nowadays. I honestly hope that I’m as badass and free-spirited as she is for the rest of my life. She freaking rocks.

This also means I’m going to have to start working out, though…

I love you, Mom!

And yes… I did buy her the chaps.

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Window? Squirrel Parkour Course? I’ve Heard It Both Ways.

So, my best friend, who has decided to go by the pseudonym “John Hamm” on this blog (so as to avoid any Internet association with me) texted me this video just now:

Me: Oh my gosh. So cute.

JH: He’s growling at me now!

Me: Haha! I love him.

JH: I think I’m gonna turn on the air conditioner and show him what’s up.

Me: No! That’s so mean!!

JH: I think he tried to attack me through the window… It was kind of adorable, but totally fruitless.

Me: Awww. What a cutie! Name?

JH: Haven’t thought of one… But “Snape”* talks to the squirrels like they’re outdoor kitty cats, so maybe I should pick one.

Me: I think so… Neville? Or Seamus? Seamus was pretty squirrelly…. and he always caught on fire.

JH: Maybe Gerald. But I think I name everything Gerald.

Me: Ha. Gerald…

JH: Maybe Starbuck. Because it started of cute and then it got really annoying…

Me: YES.

 

*”Snape” is “John Hamm’s” boyfriend. He really does look and sort of talk like Snape. It’s uncanny and a little disturbing.

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And Once Again, My Mother, Ladies and Gentlemen…

So last night I was sitting at home and relaxing with some Netflix and my dog. It was perfect.

And then I went to wash my face.

“Why do my eyes look different?” I thought to myself. And then I realized that it wasn’t that my eyes look different, it’s that MY FACE IS FRAKING SWOLLEN AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY.

So, I immediately texted my mother (because that’s what you do in any emergency, and yes I count this as an emergency.), who is visiting my sister and niece in Chicago, which prompted this phone call:

Me: Hello?

Mom: What happened?

Me: I have no idea.

Mom: Is it allergies?

Me: I’ve never had an allergy! Why don’t you know that? All I did today was go to work and eat mac and cheese!

Mom: Weird… Do you have some Benadryl?

Me: No…and everything’s closed right now.

Mom: Alright, well… if it’s still like that in the morning, go get some Benadryl and go to the doctor.

Me: I don’t even know where there is a doctor… I’ve never needed one out here. I’M A CHILD.

Mom: Good God, Emelie…

Me: Anyway, how is Chicago?

Mom: Good. The baby has a fever.

Me: WE’RE DROPPING LIKE FLIES!!

Mom: Well, your sister and I are fine. We’re just hanging out and drinking wine.

Me: Oh, maybe that’s my issue. I was out of wine tonight. Maybe I’m having an allergic reaction to not having wine.

Mom: You’re out of wine?!?!

Me: I know… I have failed you.

Mom: Well, that’s obviously the problem. You need to fix that. Put that on your shopping list for tomorrow, too: Wine and Benadryl.

Sister in the background: What??? DON’T LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER!!!

Me: Mom, you give the best advice.

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It’s not an unhealthy relationship, I swear.

So, a few weeks ago, my bestie (who has decided to go by  “John Hamm” on this blog for legal reasons) posted this on my Facebook wall with the message “Please take and report back to me”:

Buzzfeed Quiz – click the image to check it out!

Initially, my result was that John Hamm and I were Seth and Evan from Superbad. The following conversation happened in the comments of said Facebook posting:

JH:  Haha I got Romy and Michelle from Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion.

Me: What?? I like your view of our relationship way better. I’m gonna take it again and go with the answers I decided against for certain questions.

Me: BOOM.

Me: At first I answered “tearfully” for our fighting solutions… then I switched to “talk it out” …to me? Same diff.

JH: To be fair, it’s usually a fine combination of both.

Me: Exactly! Anyway, we’re so much more like Romy and Michelle.

JH: I’ve never seen that movie, but from what I can tell it’s accurate haha

Me: Same here! I’m thinking that we have a movie night? Over the phone?

JH: Done. Now I just have to acquire it.

Me: HOW IS IT NOT ON NETFLIX?!?

JH: I already checked, Netflix didn’t even know it was a movie according to my search.

Me: Whoa, Netflix. Whoa.

JH: It ruins my life in more way than one.

JH: And no, I am not concerned that we are having a chat in the comments like it’s instant message.

Me: Are you kidding me? This is already a future blog post. Working title: “John Hamm and I Aren’t Afraid to PDA.”

Me: It needs work, but it’s there.

JH: Everyone who reads your blog is gonna be like, “What’s all this stuff about John Hamm? I liked it better when she was writing about dog poop…”

Me: Yeah, but he hasn’t shit himself in a while, so you’re all I’ve got.

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I’m Just Saying, I Wouldn’t Mind Meeting a Husky Wearing a Fedora.

So, I had this plan, right? I was going to meet my best friend, marry him, and live happily ever after. All of this was supposed to happen by the age of 23. See, the original plan included me bumping into some handsome guy in a college class or in my dorm hall and we’d have some awkward interaction, followed by a series of coincidental meet-ups and hang outs, which then blossomed into something we both couldn’t ignore:  Love and obvious sexual chemistry.

Stop laughing.

In my defense, I have a family with an uncanny success rate when it comes to love. Two of my siblings married their high school sweethearts, the third sibling met her husband in grad school and never looked back, and my parents, who are still happily married after almost 35 years, were engaged after 5 weeks of knowing each other, despite the fact that they lived on different continents.

So… my expectations were skewed as a child.

Me? I’m in my mid-twenties and I live with my dog on 100 acres of forestry. No husband. No boyfriend to speak of.

You see, Duckies, it turns out that life has this way of kicking your plans in the balls and then walking away without a second thought.

That whole best friend for a husband thing didn’t exactly work out, which is fine, because I actually kind of love my life right now. That being said, I’m not exactly hoping it stays exactly as it is. I mean, I still would like to meet SOMEONE.

So, what’s a girl who lives in the middle of nowhere to do?

She’s gonna fall down the rabbit hole of online dating, Duckies. And she’s gonna drag her bestie, “John Hamm,” right down with her.

That’s right: We went boy shopping. Let’s be honest, folks, that’s what online dating really is. I sift through profiles like their on the clearance rack at Target: “Ugly… ugly… ugly… oh this is cute… oh, no… way too small*… Nice, but not my style…”

*I’m referring to his HEIGHT. Get your head out of the gutter. 

So last night, after some wine for me and lots of coffee for John Hamm (she’s studying for law school finals), we ventured deep into the Internet… and this is what we found (and then shared on Facebook for all of our friends to see… – Hi Mom!):

 

John Hamm’s Facebook Status: Late night coffee and helping Emelie boy shop on the Internet. I’m super high on caffeine and judging people.

The comments:

  • MeThere are so many unfortunate people on the Internet.
  • JH: 
  • “Pixie Stick”: I mean, that’s how I met mine. You’d better start posting hilarious quotes asap.
  • Me: Pixie Stick – so many dead fish.
  • Me“Oooooh.. he’s cute. WAIT. 5’7″. HARD PASS.”
  • JH: “I’m just saying, if he uses the word ‘loquacious’ in his profile, he’s probably a tool.”
  • Me: “He owns his own clothing line and has a neck tattoo. Total winner.”
  • PS: … From now on, just assume that I “like” every quote you post. 
  • PS: Oh, I think I know that neck tat/clothing guy ….. wait, maybe there’s more than one of them out there. God help us.
  • Me: “This guy started out seeming nerdy and sweet… now that I’m looking at his profile in more detail, I’m realizing he might be a murderer.”
  • Me: “Okay, this guy seems like a tool, but he has a Husky and it’s wearing a fedora… can I use this site to meet people’s dogs?”
  • JH: I just found a guy who looks like a cross between Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaghey, it’s like the cast of True Detective got together and had a baby.”
  • Me: “LADIESMAN646 IS LOOKING AT MY PROFILE”
  • JH: I’m thinking about creating a fake profile and just calling it “Catfish” because this site keeps cock-blocking me.
  • Me: Whaaaat? This guy’s favorite book is Mansfield Park?
    JH: No. False. No man’s favorite book is Mansfield Park
  • Me: He’s kind of cute. I mean… I wouldn’t kick him out of bed…
    JH: Mostly because that’s a rude thing to do.

He-owns-his-own-clothing

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