go and look

hey, go to
www.emilykharrison.com
and tell me what you think. it's rough and temporary, but it'll have to do for now. i'm not "rockafella", afterall.

e-walk away, just e-walk away

so three or four years ago they broke up.

they had talked about marraige, then she went to europe for a few months and he dumped her long distance.

he also had break-up talks with her whole family who had grown to love him and had taken him in as one of their own.

right when she got back from europe she met up with him and they got it settled face to face. like civilized, respectful human beings.

hadn't seen him since.

heard he got married.

so she and her two sisters were walking into the airport to greet some incoming family.

and, because that's how her family is - they were wearing totally wacky hats.

her particular peice of headwear appears to be some type of lamb skin contraption that is intended for warmth beneath a hard hat. it basically looks like a blue, fuzzy, lamb lined, velcro hood. resembles the hood that an ewok would wear.

who is coming out of the airport at the same moment in time? ex-boy and his wife.

girl was temped to dive back into the floorboard of the car that ha just dropped them off and yell "drive! drive!"

but she bucked up and faced it like the brave little soldier she is.

the girl and sisters greeted boy and wife. had a brief akward interchange of words and then moved on.

later on they laughed and laughed about how that was the first time girl had seen ex-boy since the break-up.

fortunately he was able to see, in that breif encounter, exactly what he had given up. fool.

dashed fool.

hahahahaha

ewok hat.

:::update:::

I have failed to keep you in the loop as far as he goings on of BOB are concerned and I'm sorry.

Basically the only things of note are the shirts that show his back and belly any time movement is required. He's been flying a toy helocopter around the office for three days now. one incident saturated the office in awkward vibe, floor to cieling.

my sales team was standing around in a circle-like pattern discussing this weeks sales quotas. here comes bob. bob and his helocopter. so there bob is... flying a helocopter roughly the size of a watermelon while the circle of sales continues to converse. bob appears as a sort of side note to the focus of the room. he's venturing his chopper close enough to the circle to draw some attention to himself. at this moment one of the head honchoes from our most major account walks in. you can tell that the team desperately wants to relay that "he's not with us". yeah, him with the tiny shirt and the toy chopper... we don't know him.
but to no avail.
there's a painfully tense few seconds before bob returns to his cubicle and the honcho can introduce himself to the team...

wacky, bob. just wacky.
not that i don't think toy helocopters are cool. i do . i really do. but the facts are that this is not grade school show and tell. your fighter pilot helmet was at least silent. this is starting to get out of control when i have a hard time hearing my boss on the phone because the hover craft of sorts that is lingering above my cube is making too much noise.

why?
why?
why?

Bob. you have seemingly good intentions, but are severely lacking in poise and social couth.

oh and by the way, you sneaking up on me when i have earphones in is so not cool. especially when you're trying to hand me a cd of one song that your "band" recorded three years ago. I don't really feel like our relationship is at the level where we can share our past... you know. don't get me wrong. i think it's great that you have so much under your belt. and really, the song wasn't bad... but i was already listening to something. that's why i had headphones in. it's screamingly akward to have to take out the music i was thoroughly enjoying, put in your cd and have to listen to a song you "wrote, sang and played bass for" while you stand there looking at me.
in your tiny shirt.


also, when I'm on conference calls and they can here you saying profane expressions in the background in your typical loud voice... not cool, man.

okay.
that's all i got for now.



our office christmas party is tomorrow. bob's not going. it's just the sales team. i halfway want him to be there, for story's sake... but also, would never ever want to see him outside of the office.

ever.

but there will be food, scrabble, a fireplace and most likely alcohol. it's BYOB, so there will either be a whole lot of it or barely any. i don't think i'll be bringing any. i will, however, provide some nog.

i hope it's fun. i had a dream about it last night. in the dream version it was very not fun. but that is a story for another day








ps. bob faithfully uses the shoe string he has finagled into being a neck strap for the remote to his little chopper.

haha



now THAT'S funny

happy holidays?

I am sick over the fact that "happy Holidays" is the phrase of choice. How many years up until this pivot has we been saying "Merry Christmas" without incident?
And honestly, how often do when get to use the word "Merry"? merry birthday? no merry st. patrick's day? no.
And what the heck is wrong with using a word that originates from the root intent of having a celebration this time of year?
Oh oh... don't say that. "Christ" is hidden in the lettering. It might offend someone. Since when is Christ such a dirty word?

Why do we all have to water down our beliefs and generalize our statements to blanket the masses with a non-offensive grey mush?
Why is our society so afraid and cowardice? We are refusing, with every politically correct verbalization, to admit that there is something outside of ourselves. That there is something at work greater than our own feelings and something more important than whether or not we are offended by something.

If these people that are so much about free speech and so much about the liberty of the people would get over themselves, they'd see that they are a walking contradiction.
If they lived and stood for what they say they do, they would encourage everyone to speak boldly of their faith and views. instead they force feed everyone a list of what you can and cannot say as to maintain a cohesive feeling of nondescript numbness.
These people who pride themselves on being reformers are really just piddling in dopey side issues. like we shouldn't say "christmas" because it interferes with the delicate seperation of church and state. While at the core of it all they refuse to see that there is a smoldering flame of right versus wrong, good against evil, God and gods, and guilt and shame over abandoning foundational belief systems that could keep a civilization rooted.

so MERRY CHRISTMAS

as long as

to those:

Last night Lee Ann Womack was playing at Midnight rodeo. I feel like that's an indicator of a rocky patch in an otherwise wildly successful artist's career. She sang good. No problems as far as music was concerned.

However, I would like to spend some time disclosing the nature of the company. My dear friend who went with me, Courtney, can possibly attest to some if not all of this.
Subject numero uno - the first partener of the night. we basically walked around, two step-ish. He tried to spin me once but disaster ensued. so he resumed the "count in your head" method of moving across the floor. he was nice, though.

numero dos - this is the one that requires the most discription.
First answer me this, why would a five foot three guy ast a five foot eight girl to dance. Does he not know this is an uncomfortable set up. apparantly not. I don't remember what he said his name was, but i DO remember telling him ine and then not four minutes later him asking me my name, as though I hadn't just told him. so, naturally I gave him a different name. and the next time a different one... and so on. finally he started getting irritated. he and his compadres were hanging around me and mine a little too closely. The descent one spun courtney away and left me there to endure the awkward onslaught of frustrating conversation with short-boy. He was double fisting millers from the time they came over til i managed an escape - but the escape only led to further awkwardidity... yeah I said it. but more on that later. The recounting of the events to follow are in so way motivated by self glory- in fact they're more embarrassing than anything else.
now it's drunk-short-boy. he keeps coming over and standing RIGHT next to me. so i'll start to talk to someone else or look around, or go to the bathroom or something. occasionally i look over to catch him openly gawking at me. crrreee--eeeppeeeeeee.... one time i look over and say, "what? can I help you?"
"you're beautiful"
"thanks"
then I desperately start searching for some one to give the 'oh my goodness, for the love, please come rescue me' look. there's no one.
"why won't you look at me for more than five seconds?"
"because I don't want to."
then he changes his gawking to boring holes in my head.
I look over again, "what?!"
"do you smoke?"
"no"
"me either, do you want to go smoke with me"
"i just said i didn't"
"you know what i'm talking about"
oooohhh..... how could i be so naive. of coarse I don't want to go off with you somewhere. idiot. gross little,drunk, short idiot.
"no"
"come on, let's go"
"no"
"come on." tries to grab at my hand which i quickly pull away
"I said no"
then he goes back to boring holes in my head only with more intensity.weirdo.

mind you, this entire time I have been taking small steps away from him and trying to get in a place where i could either make a break for it or get picked up to dance by some knight in shining armor. we moved approximately a total of 10 yards.

I feel his drunk, short little eyes...
"what?! what's your deal?"
"you know if you're not interested you could just say so. you don't have to toy with me. blah blah blah..."
he grows to a level of hostility that makes me look at one of his buddies and say, "are you gonna tell your friend to stop yelling at me?"
He then turns to said friend and is trying to explain himself when I see my opportunity to get the hell out of dodge.

Thankfully some guy that was dancing with courtney earlier came along and took me around. so enters numero tres.

he is devistatingly unatractive. an okay dancer.but how many songs can you do the exact same steps and spin combos over and over and over and over and over and ove....

numero three is intermitantly peppered through the rest of the night as a dance partner. however. this boy was getting a little sloppy towards the end. at one point he elbowed me in the sternum with a force that knocked a little air out of me. he felt really bad - but the second time it wasn't my sternum he got and that's when it got unbearable.
"oh man I'm sorry, I hit you in the chest. which one was it?"
that's when i just walked off.
maybe a harsh reaction. but also,who asks that?
weird weird weird.

then there is quatro-
a seemingly attractive man.





WORST DANCER EVER.




cinco cut in on quatro and not a moment too soon.
cinco was fairly forgetable. nothing outstanding or painful.


Despite all the weird encounters and unatractive men, the evening was pretty fun. enjoyable.

But in retrospect - it only confirmed my opposition to going to bars to meet people. going just to dance id fun. but there are some wacky, shady, indulgent characters in that atmosphere.

I also felt assured in my apathy towards whether or not I get hit on or asked on dates. most of the joes.. wait... all of the joes i talked with weren't exactly the kind of men I would entrust with my number ... or my real name. and people are like, "i'm surprised you don't date more."
I'm not.
i am not.
maybe my "standards are too high."
maybe i'm "a snob"
maybe i do "shut people down"
maybe i do "make them feel like crap"
but really, i just gotta be me. ya know?

i just gotta be me.

deja vu

As I stood there, in awe, before the towering shelf of seasonally scented lotions and body washes, my eyes fell upon the perfect flavor. Eggnog. Not two weeks before had we had the discussion about the greatness off nog. I believe the phrase, "I like my eggnog like I like my men... thick and rich." was uttered. So I take a whiff of the tester and decide - YES, eggnog smellin' lotion will be the perfect gift. She loves lotion, after all.
So I grab a big bottle, purchase it and go on my way.

fast forward to later that night.

We had gone to grab dinner and she was taking me back to my car. I couldn't wait to give it to her. I retrieved it from the passenger seat, where it laid nestled among the other purchases of the day.
She was so excited, "I LOOOOve lotion! yay. Oh this smells soooo good!"
She administers a small amount in the palms of both our hands...
"It looks really shiny"
"yeah, it's sort of sticky"
"Oh my gosh, I hope this is lotion and not shampoo!"

She reads the bottle.

"It IS shampoo!"

queue histerical laughter and screaming and tears and trying to scrape shampoo off our hand into the bottle and the laugh where no noise comes out and stomping and more laughing.................




Oh my.


imagine if you will harp music and a thought bubble with blurry edges - you know all the indications of a flashback...

Mom, my two sister and I had driven over to Lubbock for the day. We were at the checkout line in Target (this was about 12 years ago.FYI). I talk my mom into getting me some chapstick that had breathspray that came with it, both a mouthwatering vanilla flavor...
We all get in the car. I want to try out the vanilla breath spray, so I bust it out of the package and begin giving doses around the car. I spray it into my mom's mouth. My sister's mouth. My other sister's mouth. As I go to spray it in my own I notice that they are all making terrible faces and smacking their mouths.
"This doesn't taste good at all.."
I read the label.
Sure enough it's not breath spray at all, but perfume, rather.
I had just sprayed vanilla perfume into my familys' mouths.
So we hauled to sonic to get drinks to try and rid their buds of the wretched taste.

Three lessons learned that day:
1. putting others before yourself is a great idea
2. read the label before you put stuff in your mouth***
3. spray perfume in someone's mouth and they'll treat you to sonic.

*** except for I obviously didn't learn the label reading one too well. I realized this as I was wiping the shampoo residue from my hand to my jeans.
But it sure did smell good.

So there you go, I bought you shampoo because I know you love lotion so much.
Merry Christmas.