Dear Gwen Stefani,

Ok, look, I'm white, and your "Harajuku Girls" makes me queasy.  (This is probably because I'm marrying a man with family in Harajuku, and I at least know how to correctly pronounce it, which makes your song even harder to listen to.  But still.  Yikes.)

I'd always kinda thought you'd sold out, but now I've heard the gruesome proof ( Read more... )

...but I'm gonna be a snob. Staggering into work out of the inhuman cold, I enter the little kitchen/pantry kinda area for tea and am immediately confronted with this assault on written English:

SORRY, ICE MACINE IS
TEMPORAILY OUT OF
ORDER.
Seriously? We work in publishing.

I'm Emi.

It's simple. Three letters.

I'm not Emily. I can see how you'd call me that, though, because my email is programmed as Emily.

But I am definitely not Emy, Emmie, or Amy.

If you're going to work with me, at least learn my actual name. I feel sad and underappreciated when people I supposedly work for don't even know who I am.

Today at work I got a big box of books. Yay! I'm not entirely sure what for, but my best guess is the reprint library, so I've filed them like a good little reprint monkey ( Read more... )

If I had a shiny gun ( Read more... )

Things I think about while I'm out getting lunch:

- God damn it it's cold again and the wind is helpfully attempting to slice my face off. Winter is demoralizing ( Read more... )

Will and I saw Coraline on Thursday night. (OMG. SEE THIS MOVIE. NOW.) For some reason I can't figure out they decided to preface it with a preview for, of all things, Confessions of a Shopaholic, whose heroine appears to possess absolutely none of the spunk, resourcefulness, or critical thinking ability of Coraline herself. Let's say I think ( Read more... )

For what the opinion of a washed-up cartoonist is worth ( Read more... )

Dear work,

I know that my email was programmed before I got here, so HR used the only name on record.  I asked them to change it, but no dice.  I know how it reads, and how it sends, but for heaven's sake, you all see how I sign my emails, and some of you have actually spoken to me.  You know who I am.

I'M NOT EMILY

No love,
Me.

The downside of women's lib -- what with that crazy notion that a successful woman works to support herself -- is that it is no longer fashionable, or really even possible, to become a recluse ( Read more... )