Category Archives: Random Thoughts/Happenings

Funny Girl

Last week I saw Funny Girl on Broadway, which I HIGHLY recommend because despite the cringy plot (really quite bad), Lea Michele’s performance absolutely blew my mind to the extent that I’m able to earmuff the rumors that she’s a card-carrying mean girl/bully/everything I hate about people/society/the world. They’re only rumors, after all, and they’ve only been verified by every single person she’s ever worked with, so obviously filing it under fake news. *adjusts headphones of convenience*

Anyway, as I do whenever I see a Broadway musical, I’ve been obsessively playing the catchiest song over and over again in my car to a degree that is certainly diagnosable as a mental condition. (But seriously, other people do this blast-a-song-and-scream-the-lyrics-on-repeat-thing, sometimes actually acting out the words with dramatic hand and head motions, right? What’s that? Yes, but they’re 9? Kkkkk.)

This ritual of playing a Broadway song ad nauseum has pretty much been my MO since seeing Rent in middle school, and I’m always so excited when I get a new opportunity to be weirdly obsessive. It’s my (arguably sad) idea of fun.

But you know what ruins fun?

Children.

Especially Even the ones you birth!

It is rare that I am in the car without one of my half-pint humans nowadays, so my opportunity to blast a song and weird-out is limited. Sophie’s fun-ruining is more manageable. She’s only 1, so her idea of crashing the party is simply to scream at the top of her lungs until you start desperately searching the car for an eject button (to eject/kill MYSELF, guys, not the baby! Jesus.)

After 13 months of her car screaming I have developed some semi-useful coping mechanisms such as day dreaming that I am anywhere but here on Earth, tearless crying (also known as soul-crying, which is far less satisfying than classic, outward sob-crying, but gotta keep those eyeballs unobstructed because hello I’m driving a small child and SAFETY), and praying to a rotation of gods (I’ve now sampled all religions, and it turns out there is no god who will rapid-fire respond to an SOS emoji text).

But Sophie isn’t actually the problem, because her age/obliviousness and the above coping mechanisms allow me to at least semi-pretend it’s not happening. You think a 4-year-old is going to let you get away with that shit, though?

The fuck she’s not.

Me: (plays “Don’t Rain on my parade”)

Nora: “Mom, what’s this song about?”

Me: “A girl chasing after a man her dream!”

Nora: “Was this song in the start of the show or the middle or the end?”

Me: “Middle.”

Nora: “But why?”

Me: “Because that’s how the person who wrote the show wrote it.”

Nora: “Did the girl who’s singing write the show?”

Me: “No.”

Nora: “Then who did?”

Me: “I…don’t actually know. But I can look it up later.”

Nora: “But why don’t you know?”

Me: “Because I don’t know everything.”

Nora: “Does Dad know everything?”

Me (laughs): “Definitely not.”

Nora: “Why’d you say ‘definitely not?’ Why’d you say it like that?”

Me: “I was just being funny.”

Nora: “But how is that funny?”

Me: “I can’t really explain how it’s funny.”

Nora: “Maybe it’s not funny then.”

Me: “MAYBE YOU’RE NOT FUNNY THEN!!!!”

So anyway now we listen to Raffi.

Wisdom

A wise man once said, “Don’t wait until you’re 40 fucking years old to get your wisdom teeth removed, you dumb dumb dodo bird.”

I mean I’m paraphrasing/making that up entirely but the point is, don’t wait. Because you know what the OPPOSITE of wisdom is? Sitting on your ass and doing nothing about your wisdom teeth, and waiting until your body reaches the (apparently decrepit?) age of 40, which then makes the procedure about 10 times more complex and susceptible to multiple kinds of nasty post-surgery complications. WHO KNEW?!*

*All dentists. All doctors. Most adults. Definitely some kids. Not me, though!

Now, in my defense, I was never explicitly told that I needed to get my wisdom teeth removed. It was always a kind of “on the fence” situation. Three of them grew in fine, but the bottom left remained SLIGHTLY impacted (meaning part of the tooth did not emerge from the gums. Follow me for more definitions of things you already know).

Beginning around age 17, dentists started to comment that “they should probably be taken out, but if they don’t cause pain, there’s no rush.” Well, the procrastinator in me loves nothing more than to hear “No rush!” so I kicked my feet up and sat on that shit for decades, like a boss.

My teeth never hurt. So I did what I do best– nothing.

Dentists kept mentioning it “would be a good idea” to remove them soon, but my brain clearly has an aversion to ideas that are good. So I continued to live my life, eat my sweets, and pretend that my body was not deteriorating with age.

Then I got pregnant with Sophie and I’m not sure the exact correlation, but my teeth started to hurt like a bitch. I went to the dentist after a 2-year COVID hiatus, at which point he kindly informed me, in the most gentle way possible, that it was absolutely batshit insane that I was still holding on to these teeth.

Me: “But they give me wisdom, right?”

Dentist:

Me: “Maybe you’ve heard that one before…”

Dentist: “This is serious. You need to remove these IMMEDIATELY. You cannot wait.”

Hearing these words and digesting the gravity of my situation, I did what any responsible adult would do and waited 11 more months.

Which brings us to last week, when I finally had them removed. And you know what guys, I’m not sure what all the scary warnings and dire tones were about because it was, like, nothing.

No jk it’s been horrible.

Here’s why. Apparently, the reason to NOT WAIT to get your wisdom teeth out (a reason that was never explicitly explained to me before I met with the surgeon, but that I probably could have figured out with a quick google search or, you know, some common fucking sense) isn’t just because your body is older and slower to heal (although that never helps! Middle age is cool cool cool.)

The more pressing issue is that the longer you keep the wisdom teeth, the deeper the roots grow into your gums, and the closer those roots are to approaching a very important huge ass nerve that runs along your jawline (it’s called the Mandibular Nerve, but I try not to get too medically technical on this blog because, you know, #notadoctor, but if you’re interested in more information please feel free to use the google and then let me know what it says).

The oral surgeon determined from my x-ray that the bottom left tooth (the impacted one) had roots VERY close to this nerve, so he felt inclined to warn me that nerve damage was a possibility. A very rare possibility, but a possibility nonetheless.

Me: “Ok, but like HOW rare?”

Surgeon: “VERY rare.”

Me: “Like so rare that it definitely shouldn’t stop me from getting the surgery?”

Surgeon: “Yes, that rare. I’ve only had one patient with nerve complications, and he was almost twice your age.”

Me: “Ok that sounds pretty fucking rare.”

Surgeon: “INCREDIBLY rare.”

So naturally, I have nerve damage.

The bottom left side of my face, from lower lip to chin, is completely numb. Oh, unless you count the constant burning, itching and tingling sensations that I can do nothing about, because when I try to scratch or massage the area, it is paralyzed and therefore touching it is useless. It’s that exact feeling of when your dental anesthesia is starting to wear off, and you feel the tingling but you’re still numb and uncomfortable and if you try to sip wine water it will dribble down your chin like a 90 year old hospice patient. And it’s ALL the time. Additionally, I’ve lost partial sense of taste and smell, so I don’t even get the satisfaction of fully enjoying the ice cream that rolls out of my mouth, down my face and into my neck.

So that’s been cool.

The surgeon (the same one who really played up that “rare” factor) feels “cautiously optimistic” that the damage is temporary, which would be reassuring if I had more than -2% faith in him, which I do not. And even if the damage IS temporary, it will still take 3 months to a year to resolve. THREE. MONTHS. TO. A. YEAR. Who has that kind of time?! Alright, fine. I do. But it’s annoying.

So that’s where we are. Wisdom teeth gone, jaw aching, nerves shot. The only positive is that I can now use this as a cautionary tale to warn all of you, and save you from similar despair– DO NOT WAIT TO REMOVE YOUR WISDOM TEETH.

I’m sorry, what’s that? This advice is useful to no one, because you removed yours at 17, like a not-idiot? WELL CHEERS TO YOU THEN.

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?”

files.jpg

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.