Obligatory Procrastination & Other Musings/Rants

It wasn’t even third period, and there was already major dra-ma. But Chloe didn’t have time to meet by the water fountain as usual. She had places to be, work to get done, and only seven minutes to do it.

Maddie was pissed. Chloe was really screwing everything up. Obviously Brad was not on the approved boyfriend list. Not like there was a tangible list, but Chloe should know better. He dumped Maddie last spring because he wasn’t sure he could sustain a relationship from camp. Duh!

“Hey. Got any gum?” Brad coyly leaned on the wall of lockers. Chloe slammed hers. She didn’t even have time for him.

“Brad, you need to go away. I have things to do.” Chloe shifted her bobby pin and smoothed down her bangs. She was trying to grow them out - Maddie’s suggestion. She slammed her locker, and purposefully headed down the hall.

“Wait up!” Brad clumsily shuffled after her. “I don’t have a fourth period, so I thought maybe you’d want to go to Taco Bell or something.” He flashed his braces-free smile. This was his card and he played it well. The ladies were usually smitten.

Instead, Chloe rolled her eyes and kept walking. Brad raised his voice. “I thought Maribel said you wanted to like, you know, go out with me or whatever. She told Evan. Evan wouldn’t lie about that shit.” Expletives. He was clearly embarrassed at the way things were going.

“Brad, you’re fine. You’re a fine person and I’m sure a really okay boyfriend. I just don’t have time for that right now. Plus, Maddie’s already mad at me for what Maribel apparently told Evan who, I guess, told you. And I need Maddie to be angry at me like I need another hole in my head.” She turned on her heel and continued down the hallway. Four minutes left. Shit.

“Whatever. Who even says that?” Brad was never told no. “Psh, my grandpa says that.”

She sighed and kept walking. Her allegiance was to Maddie, and it would all check out if it got back to her. At least, in theory.

The warning bell rang. If she were really going to fourth period, she’d be on the other end of the school. French class. Mais aujourd’hui est different.

She quickened her pace, and her heart began to beat in her chest. Yes, today was different. Maddie probably wouldn’t approve of this, either. She’d be jealous. But this is exactly why Chloe wasn’t telling Maddie. Sure, they made a pact when they were ten and had sneaked into Maddie’s brother’s basement fort and decided from then on to always tell each other everything. But upon later reflection, Maddie HAD neglected to tell Chloe about Brad…and she waited a whole week and a day before telling Chloe she got her period for the first time. Loyalties wane.

As the final bell rang, Chloe just made it outside the building. Hall monitor-free. She caught her breath as the dark blue Subaru honked. She smiled. In her most mature voice, she called out, “Coming!” She then sauntered over to the truck.

He smiled, and she hopped in. “Where do you feel like going for lunch, honey?”

“Let’s get burgers!” Chloe let it slip out, maybe a bit too childish, and she checked herself. Regained composure. “If you want to.”

“I could use another burger like I need a hole in my head!” He laughed. “But if it’s what you want, we can go get some hamburgers.”

Chloe smiled, satisfied, and gazed as the school disappeared in the rear-view mirror. She then realized she forgot her wallet in her locker. But that was okay, he was paying. That’s what boyfriends do.

“Thank God for slips,” Maura muttered to herself. She hated that it was always her favorite dresses that faded first. Another Sunday, another reason to wear hoes. God’s day.

“Turn off the fucking goddamn light!” Bitsy was not a morning person. She was especially not a Sunday morning person. She neglected to mention this in the nonchalant Craigslist ad that bound Maura and Bitsy as roommates. They both should’ve been more careful, more exacting. Attention to detail prevents roommates from going Dexter on each other. They were both anal - they just had different definitions.

Bitsy rolled over and thrust a naked arm out from her comforter. Fumbling, she yanked the cord out of the wall. Looks like the light turned itself off.

Maura tripped on a nearly-empty Stoli, and out plopped the last precious drops that didn’t get a chance to mingle with cranberry juice the night before. It quickly seeped into the run at Maura’s big toe. There wasn’t time to rinse it. That would have to be her secret today.

Maura loved that she didn’t have to live in a college town anymore. Madison had been a nightmare. She definitely didn’t mind elderly couples speed-walking to the standard walks of shame. As she backed her Geo out of the driveway, she checked her mirror. Too much gloss, she thought. She knew she had no business buying anything in a Sephora.

Badump.

She screeched to a halt, her eyes wide, finger frozen on her sticky upper lip. She must have curbed it. That must have been what it was. She kept rolling.

Badump.

This time with the front tires. That was no curb. She put the car in park and sat there, mouth agape. That poor animal, she thought. What have I done?

She said a small prayer in her head, with the addendum of an apology for being late to teaching Sunday School. Snack would have to be cut short as a result. The kids were learning about the ark today. There was a lot to cover.

She slowly inched out of the driver’s seat, as if sneaking up on the animal would make it less dead.

Only it wasn’t an animal. Well, kind of. Maura screamed. It was a man. A shirtless, unshaven, pissed-his-pants drunk man. Naturally, a good friend of Bitsy’s. Panicked, Maura looked around. No one had seen. She’d have to say a prayer of thanks later. She knelt down and poked the man. No reponse. Blood sloped down the driveway and met Maura’s shoe. Another secret.

She leaned in for a heartbeat, hesitantly, as if he would reach out and bite her. She might have handled it better with an animal. Faint. She stood up and sighed. She was going to be very late, indeed. She popped the trunk. Grabbing the smallest part of his jean cuff as possible, she dragged him down the driveway and he moaned. Her trunk was spotless, which was about to come in handy. It was easier than she thought to hoist him in. Maura slammed the trunk shut and wiped her hands on her favorite dress.

She smiled. She always enjoyed teaching someone a good lesson.

Oh yeah, you’ll deck the halls, and you’ll like it!

…tree trimming tonight. Preceded by lasagna and other deliciousness. I’m pleased as punch to be home.

Things that are ridiculous:

- -15 degree weather…regularly. The coldest it got in NY (I think) before I left was 20 degrees. 20 degrees above zero. I’m an idiot for not feeling prepared for the cold. I mean, I grew up here, but it always catches me by surprise.

- Mean people, and people who are mean to my friends and family. They can suck it! I’m anticipating the arrival of their coal this year.

- Awful renditions of Christmas music - modern versions, jaunty remixes, anything that would make Jesus mad. And I think of a lot of it would…I mean, I’m guessing Jesus doesn’t get mad easily, but half of the songs I’ve inadvertently heard in the past week couldn’t possibly have put a smile on his face.

Things that are ridiculously awesome:

- Being in Minnesota, despite the cold, and being exactly where I want to be.

- Dangerbox is going to Chicago in February! Yahoo! We won the CIT wild card slot. Because we’re wild! …And we know how to pressure internet friends into doing things for us. We’ve got that down pat. Check it out! http://www.chicagoimprovfestival.org/web/ccc_home.php

- Peppermint Christmas taffies. Right?? Brach’s! Who’da thought! Way to pause on the bridge mix to make something delicious.

This is most likely how me and anyone in my family would sound if we tried to beatbox. We’re just that white. And generally rhythmically-challenged. And generally challenged.

Lots of spitting.

Happy Almost Turkey Day! I’m back home in Minneapolis (obviously) and basking in the glory that is the Midwest.

Things I’m supposed to do when I’m home:

- improve my Crock Pot beat sheet/start writing

- edit/continue my Breaking Bad spec

- better organize my portfolio

- eat a shit-ton of green bean casserole.

I fully intend on accomplishing number four…that goes without saying. I will see about numbers 1-3.

I want to live and work here. For my happiness, for my sanity…etc. I need to find a way to make it work and make it worth it - degree-wise. I will never regret attending NYU in a general sense. How could I? I got to live in New York City for somewhere around four years, meet interesting people, do interesting things, learn stuff. In that regard, it was a positive college experience that I’m sure I will look back on fondly. Do I regret my choice to get a BFA in Dramatic Writing? Eh…ask me in a few years. Better make that ten years. I mean, I’ll get a job…somewhere…right?! That’s a thing!

Went to Six Ring at the Brave New Workshop last night! How wonderful to see so many people again. :) AND I got to legally have a beer at the Green Mill afterward. And, of course, $1 slices of pizza. I was treated to a Grain Belt in celebration of Minnesota goodness.

It was only a matter of time until Papa Murphy’s was going to make a meat-stuffed pizza. How is that a postive advertisement? The guy falls through the floor because there’s TOO MUCH MEAT. That’s a pizza you give to someone to kill them. Slowly. And deliciously.

My favorite Auto-Tune the News - When it comes to relevant information, I prefer to think I’m listening to T-Pain.

This doesn’t mean I’m going back to my Twitter. Twitter can still suck it for reasons I won’t get into here.

Upon reflecting on my old livejournal entries, I asked myself, “Emily, what else should you be doing with your time?” But I also asked myself, “Would you be okay with everyone reading this?” And the answers were “anything else” and “no,” respectively. So I thought I might as well check out this “tumblr” everyone speaks of and contribute something potentially amusing.

This exists mostly as a warm-up/procrastination tool pre-script writing. You’ve been given fair warning.

We’ll see what this becomes.

This delightful child grew up to be:

a. a writer

b. a stripper

c. still working on that

d. a and b

e. a and c