I Can't, Vol. 27

I can't... sit at my desk like a damn robot and not make ANY facial expressions when I listen to music. People who can scare me. Sometimes, when I'm sure no one is looking, I'll even do tiny dance moves that make me look like a T-Rex because it draws the least attention. The worst, though, is when you're super pumped up over a song, and all you wanna do is get up and blast it while running around the office... but you can't. Or can you?

I can't...

with this fashion blogger's husband. He's not a man. He's a robot wearing a mask... or someone mid-Ken Doll transformation surgery.

IMG_7377 When I was shown his face for the first time last night, I was screaming so loud and trying to text so fast, I wasn't making any sense.

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I can't...

hit any of Jessie Ware's high notes, but God and my Kia know I try.

I can't...

with cars in traffic that have tons of grandstanding bumper stickers all over their car (ex: "Abortion is NOT healthcare," plugs for local Christian talk radio stations, etc.) but DRIVE LIKE ASS. IF YOU'RE GONNA BE A LOUD MOUTH WHO INSISTS ON LABELING YOURSELF AND PREACHING TO ME VIA YOUR CAR, YOU BETTER PICK UP THE PACE AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY.

I can't...

that so many girls (women? No. Girls. Because they're babies) live their lives so systematically. I'm sorry, but it truly upsets me to my core. Everyone's entitled to play out their life how them deem most ideal, of course, but WHY does getting engaged, getting married, and having a baby exactly a year or so after marriage constitute the ideal? Do you guys really have nothing better to do as a couple? Are you already that bored and that ready to put tiny, weird humans in between the two of you? What about just enjoying being life partners for a little while, exploring and soaking in every childless minute? I don't even know why I bother publicly writing about this topic, since it's based solely on subjective opinion, but I can't help but bitch sometimes. I CAN'T.

I can't...

with GIRLS this season. It's so good, and if you gave up on it last year, that's okay. A lot of people did. But I am telling you, as a self-proclaimed Dunham critic, this season is heads above the rest. Breakups have happened, so many new characters have been introduced, Jessa is actually a terrible human being, and the other girls are, dare I say, maturing? Also, this line from Hannah paints a crystal clear picture of what goes on in my mind always (note: she has just been asked on a date by this Fran guy. Hadn't even gone out with him yet):

"I just think maybe this is the reason Adam and I broke up in the first place — so that Fran and I could get married."

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I can't...

press hard enough on you all to try this incredibly simple, but incredibly delicious side salad recipe with your next meal. Here's what you do: take some arugula, chop it up or at least kitchen-scissor it to get more flavor out of it, mix together a little salt, a little pepper, a little crushed red pepper, and about a tablespoon of Pecorino Romano (it's a special Italian cheese, duh). Sprinkle that mixture all over the arugula, then cut a lemon and squeeze as much juice as you deem fit. Finally, mix that shit up with tongs or two spoons or whatever makeshift mixers you can come up with. It's DUH-LISH-US. If you're Type A and can't follow my lax instructions, here.

I can't...

with Jenny Slate. I just love her. If you have yet to see "Obvious Child," that's something you should probably figure out how to rent this weekend and watch a few times. And, if you don't like it, DON'T EVER COME BACK TO MY BLOG. EVER.

I can't...

partake in crawfish boils. I hate them. It's gross. Yeah, I get that maybe it's more so about the social aspect of gathering together to pretend to enjoy cracking open "mud bugs," but even I can't fake the joy in that. I'll just be here, at home. Call me when y'all are done.

I can't...

with the fashion bloggers who literally have zero discretion when it comes to paring down their photo selections for a new post. Ladies, please take your time reviewing your photographs and give us, like, 5. Maybe 6 if you just have to include that second close-up. But, for the most part, we get it. After a full body shot, one close-up, and maybe a cute action shot, we're sold. Why you feel the need to include pretty much every single picture taken during the shoot is not only annoying, but confusing. Do you not trust our imaginations to know how this outfit will look for over there, and over here, and back over there, and while sitting, and while standing, and while putting one hand in your pocket? COME ON. The ugly truth is, the longer you make me scroll down to where I can actually BUY this shit, the less likely I am to do so. And, on that note, I will leave you with an example of all the above via my very own impromptu fashion blogger shoot from inside my cubicle space.

TODAY'S LOOK!

today's look!

Another angle of TODAY'S LOOK!

Another angle of today's look!

My earrings!

My earrings!

Another shot of my earrings, in case you just missed them.

My earrings, again. In case you couldn't see them.

THESE ARE MY EARRINGS. LOOK AT THEM.

THESE ARE MY EARRINGS. LOOK AT THEM.

Can't go anywhere without LEOPARD! Here are my booties, posed three ways so you can really envision them at every angle

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Being "funny"!

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Extreme close-up of my accessories and hair arm!

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Same exact picture, just farther away and with a thumbs up to mix it up!

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LOOK. LOOK AT MY ARM PARTY NOW.

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There. See how painful that is? QUIT IT.

xox,

emma

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