courtesy laugh

I LOVE MY COMPUTER

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 04:09:00 +0000

Dinner and a movie is one of my favorite ways to spend an evening with my computer. We never argue over what to eat--I have whatever I want, and my computer swallows a Blu-ray. Then we stare into each other's eyes for the next two hours, and neither of us says anything, but I laugh and cry out of sheer amusement nonetheless. "Did you like the movie?" my computer asks, and no matter how I respond, it's always so thoughtful to quickly find a new one for us to share on our next romantic night.

THAT MOMENT WHEN YOU GET TO COME HOME AND TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 21:26:00 +0000

Rejoice!

HOW NOT TO ENJOY A CUP OF COFFEE

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 17:00:00 +0000

Make your cup of coffee. Be caught off guard suddenly out of the corner of your eye by the visible heat rising from the mug and think to yourself (probably because you are half asleep and have not yet had your cup of coffee) that this is the most amazing phenomenon you have ever seen. Decide that you must photograph it. Realize that the memory card inside your camera is full, and head over to your computer to empty it. Panic for a moment--how much longer will the heat continue to swirl? Calm down, return to the kitchen, and take your first photo. Review it on the tiny monitor, and notice that the light's not right, and there are crumbs all over the counter. Turn off the light, open the blinds, wipe off the counter, and try your hand at taking some photos once again. You think they look okay, but would probably look better on the other side of the kitchen in front of the dark microwave so the steam will really stand out. Wipe the crumbs from that counter, and be annoyed at what a slob you are while you do it. Take several quick photos. Don't even care at this point what they look like, since you are an angry slob in desperate need of a cup of coffee. Bring your mug and memory card back to your computer to upload your efforts. Be full of regret as you view a string of photos of a steaming hot cup of coffee becoming less and less steamy and take a sip of your stale, lukewarm drink at the same time.

EVERYTHING YOU READ HERE IS TRUE. EXCEPT FOR THAT SENTENCE.

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 05:46:00 +0000

It's not sad to have the same dinner alone five nights in a row and time yourself consuming it each evening to see if you can eat it faster and faster each night. It's not. Nobody knows what "sad" means anyway.

ON THE BACK

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 23:26:00 +0000

Can someone please design this shirt for me? I would like to wear it every time I overcome adversity, like when I open a jar or kill a spider. Or whenever I work really long and hard on my schoolwork. Or whenever I feel like it would be fun to have people mistakenly call me Pat.

IF I WERE NOT MYSELF

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 19:49:00 +0000

If I were not myself right now but a version of me as a character on last decade's hit television drama LOST, I think I would be Claire, season 1, when she's super pregnant and having lots of nightmares about her baby. I'm not pregnant but I couldn't sleep last night because a lot of silly worries were loading up in my mind, so it actually might not be a bad thing if the Others kidnap me for a while to run some tests. Obviously "the Others" is what I call my psychiatrist.

claire photo via

WHAT VALENTINE'S DAY MEANS TO ME

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 23:27:00 +0000

Can't wait for romance to go on sale tomorrow!

I AM SO GRATEFUL

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 00:24:00 +0000

Today I am grateful for being a woman who lives in a beautiful town where I do nothing but learn for a living, making enough money to feed myself exotic fruits and buy around-the-clock entertainment and pay rent for a worn cottage to house none of the things I need in small, empty rooms full of light where I have the time, the freedom, the health, the nerve to sit quietly and feel sorry for myself.

THE LIVING ROOM FLOOR

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 19:43:00 +0000

I'm wearing a thrifted blazer and blouse, Loft pants, and Jessica Simpson flats.

The living room floor is wearing me, in an awkward state of pulling-my-pants-downedness. "Why did she post that picture of herself wearing an Austin Powers costume and doing some sort of crab dance on the floor?" you whisper softly to your monitor. Well, clearly I am auditioning for a role in this music video. Or maybe I legitimately thought this was a cute outfit and this is just somehow the best photo of it I got. You decide. But the point is I need to be in that video.

GARÇON

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 02:21:00 +0000

Recently, I have begun raising my eyes and coffee mug up at no one in the mornings as soon as I'm in need of a refill. Like most things in my life, I have learned this from film and TV. As soon as a character at a restaurant realizes they need or want more to drink, they signal to an imaginary waiter/bartender off camera who presumably is doing nothing but standing still, scanning the room, just waiting for a customer to summon them with some eye contact and a glass held high above their head. The scenario ends for me as it usually does on television or in the movies, in that we cut to an entirely different scene before anyone has to cast a Drink Refiller. In my case, the next scene is always me standing in my own kitchen, refilling my own coffee mug, wishing I had a hired wait staff on hand. And if I have learned anything from movies and TV, it's only a matter of about 20-90 minutes before my wish ironically/joyously/devastatingly comes true.

EYE CANDY

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 18:50:00 +0000

Happy weekend, peep[er]s!

THINGS THAT SHOULD NEVER BE CHARTED BUT THAT I HAVE PUT ON A CHART REGARDLESS

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 22:48:00 +0000

TODAY, I CLEANED MY HOUSE.

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 02:00:00 +0000

Not because it needed it (it did), but because I thought of how embarrassed I would be on behalf of the surviving members of my family if I died suddenly and the paramedics found my home in its usual disastrous state. God forbid I would survive some kind of event that left me incapacitated while strangers entered my filthy house, because I would wake up only to die of embarrassment a moment later. Now I take comfort in the fact that for the next few days at least, I could go at a moment's notice with my dignity intact. Unless of course I slip in the shower, in which case gimme a few more weeks, Lord, until I've had some time to work out.

PAT & VANNA DRINK MARGARITAS IN THE '80s

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 18:16:00 +0000

INT. LOS ARCOS RESTAURANT - DAY

PAT and VANNA sit across from one another in an oversized booth, with oversized margaritas in front of them, and three empty margarita glasses off to the side. MARIACHI MUSIC plays quietly in the background.

PAT

(smarmy, drunk)

Do you know what "Los Arcos" translates to in English?

VANNA

What.

PAT

(proud of himself)

"The Arcos."

Vanna slurps her drink, reacts for a moment to a brain freeze, and then looks up at Pat, her expression stuck in a cringe from the brain freeze.

VANNA

I'm starting to get really concerned about AIDS.

Based on a true story.

THE LIVING ROOM FLOOR

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 03:49:00 +0000

I'm wearing a thrifted silk blouse, thrifted silk pants, a Target belt, and Bandolino wedges.

The living room floor is wearing me, in a rare state of calm. I think it has something to do with the fact that I have basically dressed myself in bedsheets. If you are someone who is both physically and emotionally most comfortable while in bed but has found it difficult to support yourself in that manner, might I suggest draping your body from head to toe in the softest silk your local Goodwill-type store has to offer. It's the stuff anxious, lazy people's dreams are made of.

EVERYTHING YOU READ HERE IS TRUE. EXCEPT FOR THAT SENTENCE.

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 05:46:00 +0000

Lately I have been having these sinus aches, which I prefer to think of and pronounce in my mind as "Syna Sakes." That way it sounds like some sort of evil, sexy, black leather-clad Angelina Jolie character is constricting my head and throat, instead of just mucus.

I LOVE MY COMPUTER

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 08:01:00 +0000

No, ours is not a torrid love affair. We've been together for several years now, so we're comfortable. Both of us really enjoy our sleep. But I do have to brag that still, after so many years of parading around the house in sweatpants, all I have to do is touch my computer and it's instantly turned on.

WELCOME

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 08:01:00 +0000

I have never been to a ribbon-cutting ceremony before. I assume what normally happens at those things is that somebody rummages around for some ribbon, cuts it, and takes a picture at the same time in front of whatever symbol is being celebrated. That's what happened here, at least. Welcome to the first day my new blog goes live. It was kind of a lonely ribbon-cutting ceremony without you.

EVERYTHING YOU READ HERE IS TRUE. EXCEPT FOR THAT SENTENCE.

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 19:12:00 +0000

I’ve recently begun collecting mementos from the happiest moments in my life. And by that I mean, I stopped cleaning up the drops of ice cream that spill on my desk while watching Lost reruns alone on Saturday nights.

IT'S 2012

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 01:26:00 +0000

And yet we are still manufacturing adult multivitamins in choking hazard size, and people like me are still buying them. Gag reflex always included.

HOW NOT TO IRON

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 20:16:00 +0000

Thank you Mom, for buying me a steamer for Christmas.

THE LIVING ROOM FLOOR

noreply@blogger.com (amber) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 19:07:00 +0000

I'm wearing a Gap sweater, Express shirt, Asos pants, and Target wedges.

The living room floor is wearing me, in a state of total holiday-induced tiredness. I am suprised supermodels do not pose like this more often. You would think they'd be exhausted what with all the existing and not eating they have to do at the same time.