The Emily you know and love, (or, for those of you who read this blog and don't actually know me, here's a little sneak peak into my actual personality - that which doesn't always translate itself into my blogs) is not a morning person.
In fact, I'm not a morning person to the extent that one of my friends felt it was necessary and fitting to purchase the pictured pair of panties below for me. (Ewww. I said panties. Ewww. That word should be un-written from the English Dictionary. It simply served my alliterate purposes above. Otherwise, I wouldn't be caught dead saying it. PANTIES??? Ewwww).
The same friend (bless her) also bought me another pair of undies that inform viewers to "Bring Coffee." She gave them to me and apologized that she couldn't find something that said "Bring Tea." I said it not to worry about it and that it was perfectly acceptable and since starting grad school I've given up my tea habit and exchanged it for some of the harder stuff. We all know that tea is just a gateway beverage anyway(so all you green tea drinkers, beware. It's just a matter of time before your state of zen is replaced with something more sinister). At least my new undies don't say "Bring Me A Stiff One." Because then I'd have to go to Alcoholics Anonymous. Or something like that.
I guess I'm to blame for the outrageous undies in the first place. I think it started when I bought my sister a pair for her bachelorette a number of years ago. They were black, and in white writing they declared that my sister was, indeed, a "Flute Player." What? What's so wrong with that? SHE IS. I SWEAR. Check it out: www.natashachapman.com. She is also very attractive. And married.
In return for the Flute Playing undies, a few Christmases ago, I received a pair that declared I was a "Royal Brat,'' (complete with a crown and glittery rhinestones) across the buttocks. I don't have a picture here, because after they started loosing all their rhinestones, it devalued them a lot and I had to throw them away. At that time, I hadn't foreseen this blog. Silly me.
Not only have I been given an amusing underwear collection, but I've also been given a fitting t-shirt collection as well. And they're not just fitting because they're a size small.
I think it all started when I was 14, and the director of an operetta I was in nicknamed me "Crabbypants." He even sent me a first night good-luck gift to my dressing room addressed to Miss Crabbypants. Perhaps this was taking it a bit too far? After all, he was directing Cinderella on off-nights.
At any rate, about 4 Christmases ago I was given the shirt below by a now ex-boyfriend. This might have been his way of saying I needed to chill out a little bit. But I'm not sure. He wasn't always the best communicator. I still wear the shirt, not because I'm still pining away for the guy, but because...it fits.
See. It speaks to me.
For Christmas this year, my lovely sister gave me another t-shirt. I think this one is great, especially considering that during the holidays I can most often be heard mumbling "I hate Christmas" alternately mixed with "Bah humbug."
Natasha said she missed out on getting a t-shirt that said soemthing like "you say I'm sarcastic, I say I'm funny."
If only she could have managed to get that one.
*sigh*
3 comments:
Hahaha...I have to say, this is one of your better posts! The sarcasm alone almost made me weep acidic tears. Good stuff :)
Thank you. Thank you very much. I'm so sad because I've noticed how unfunny I've been getting. This rouses my spirits.
Happy New Year!
Ha! That's funny. Because it's so true. Takes me back to the days of sitting in an alcove hearing snorting laughter coming from beside me as you discovered new and interesting t-shirts.
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