Category Archives: Random Thoughts/Happenings

Spot On

Saleslady: “Has anyone ever told you that you have a dead-ringer celebrity doppelgänger?”
Me: “Yup, I get it all the time.”
Saleslady: “Ok, so I’m not crazy! You look exactly like–”

(in unison)

Me: “Sarah Jessica Parker!”
Saleslady: “Ellen Degeneres!”

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Pretty spot on visual depiction of how I like to delude myself vs. reality.

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Jewish Food

Getting Nora ready to attend a Yom Kippur break fast….

Me: “We’re going to eat lots of yummy Jewish food! Like bagels, and lox, and maybe even some kugel!”

Nanny: “Oh! I love Jewish food.”

Me: “Oh really?”

Nanny: “Yes my favorite is spaghetti bolognese.”

Me: Thinking_Face_Emoji

Nanny: “I worked for this Jewish lady and EVERY single Thursday she make spaghetti bolognese and I tell my husband ‘Oh, I LOVE this Jewish food!”

Me: “Ok, but spaghetti bolognese is not, like, a traditionally JEWISH food.”

Nanny: “But she is Jewish.”

Me: “Right…”

Nanny: url

Me: “She’s just a Jew who likes spaghetti.”

Nanny: images-1

Alabama

Every man I encounter, to Nora: “Oh, look at you, handsome boy!”

Me (very nicely): “Haha she’s actually a girl but thank you! She will take the compliment on her good looks!”

(abortion becomes outlawed in Alabama)

Every man I encounter, to Nora: “Oh, look at you, handsome boy!”

Me: “Oh you WOULD think she’s a boy. OF COURSE YOU WOULD. BOYS RULE THE WORLD, RIGHT? EVERYTHING IS BOYS, BOYS, BOYS AND NO ONE CARES ABOUT GIRLS. WELL SHE MIGHT LOOK LIKE A BOY BUT SHE’S GOING TO GROW UP AND KICK YOUR ASS BECAUSE THE FUTURE IS FEMALE MOTHERFUCKER!”

So yeah I’m upset.

I ❤️ NY

I get into the elevator with Nora and a (presumably married) man and woman are there.

Woman: “Oh my goodness look at this baby! She is SO cute! How old is she?”

Me: “Aw thank you. 7 months.”

Woman: “Look at that face! Ugh this makes me wish I had had more babies.”

Man: “It’s never too late!”

Woman: “It literally is too late.”

Man: “No it’s not! Why do you say that?”

Woman: “Because I’m fucking 50 and going through menopause, Larry! Jesus Christ!”

My 21-Year-Old Self Was an Idiot. Here’s Proof.

We are moving apartments tomorrow, so the past week has been a lot of packing and cleaning out old crap. All of which has been done by a constantly sweating yet not ONCE complaining Eric, while I sit on the couch rubbing my belly, drinking ice water, and grumbling that I’m overwhelmed.

Yesterday Eric pulled this huge dusty box out of the depths of the closet and said “Hey, Emily from 1990, here are your files. Maybe go through them and see if this is something we can throw in the garbage, since we now live in the computer age, and have for 20 plus years?”

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So I just went through the box and he was right– I do not, in fact, need a paper copy of the 1-year-warranty for the Sony Vaio laptop I bought in college, nor a receipt for a Gap cardigan purchased in January. Of 2004.

It took me over an hour to go through, rip up, and discard all the blatantly irrelevant crap this box possessed, but my hard labor was rewarded when I reached the end of the files and came across THIS little gem, posted below (in the form of a PDF link. Sorry, after a whole 2 seconds of trying, I couldn’t figure out how else to post it).

It is a paper I wrote during my senior year of college, entitled “The (abridged) Autobiography of Emily Lerman,” and it is ABSURD. Absurd because it is exactly the kind of sarcastic, self-deprecating shit I would post on this blog, except I HANDED IT IN TO A PROFESSOR. AT AN IVY LEAGUE SCHOOL. FOR A GRADE. 

Now, granted, I got an A. So my professor was either awesome (don’t remember that being the case) or EXTREMELY bored (more likely). Or maybe she appreciated seeing something “different” come across her desk? Most likely she was just drunk. I don’t know, but there’s no doubt something was amiss, because this shit is less a paper for a college course and more a bad audition for Last Comic Standing that ends with the comic sweat-stuttering offstage to a chorus of “You suck!”

So naturally, I need to share it.

A few parts are redacted to protect the innocent, but otherwise I left it in its purest, this-was-definitely-written-by-a-21-year-old-moron form. It’s not even that the writing is that bad (save for a few blatant grammatical errors), it’s just VERY dramatic. Not sure if that was for comedic effect (important in a paper for HISTORY CLASS) or because I was a CHILD when I wrote it, but I do feel the need to clarify that I probably wasn’t THAT miserable as a kid, and Potomac was not THAT absurd a place to grow up (furthermore, the random unneccesary dig I took at my mom, saying she was a real estate agent “when she felt like working” was completely unfair. I can make that joke NOW, but back then, the woman hustled).

Or maybe I was that miserable and growing up in Potomac was that absurd but I’ve now had 15 more years of distance from the “trauma” (img_7593) and kind of just want to smack my young self across the head and be like, “Lighten up, Sassypants. Your life wasn’t hard. You drove a 4Runner.”

Anyway here it is. Enjoy. ( shrug_1f937)

Yes I wrote this for an academic college course

P.S. Future daughter– if I send you to college and this is the kind of shit you produce on my dime, you’re paying your own way.

 

Completely Unfair

When I was in high school, I drove a Toyota 4-Runner. It was fucking enormous, and I was very bad at controlling it. My parents bought it for me with the mentality “Better she hit things than things hit her,” a sentiment I took far too literally and thus proceeded to hit all the things.

The parking situation at my high school was a certifiable shitshow. If you couldn’t wake up in time (so for me– every day, my whole life, always) to get one of the ten parking spots alloted to students, you had to parallel park on the street. You could only do so if you had a street permit claiming you lived in that neighborhood, which I obviously did not. Luckily, my oddly resourceful boyfriend (the kind of guy you could be like “I need a talking komodo dragon that knows karate and is wearing a tutu, stat,” and he’d be like “I know a guy”) was able to procure a fake permit for me, so I was one of the 1500 lucky students who got to illegally vie for a parallel parking spot within a .5 mile radius of the school every morning. It was a battleground.

One day after school I walked up to my car and found a note stuck to my windshield.

“Learn how to park, you fucking bitch. Your car is taking up three spots.” Then, scribbled in pencil at the bottom someone chimed in, “She has a $35,000 car and she doesn’t even think that’s expensive. She’s a spoiled cunt.”

Which is just completely unfair.

I had no idea how much that car cost.

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