In which I announce the fact that I’m going to be on the radio tomorrow and talk about how awful the weather is today, which may or may not also happen tomorrow on the radio.
Dear Mr. Coffee, I have, yet again, felt the terror of your hatred and disdain. At this point, it’s all too clear: we have grown apart, and so have our wants and needs. It’s over, Mr. Coffee. I wish you the best. And no, we cannot be friends. Good luck with your future endeavors at …
In which I finally kind of finish up the whole Neurontin story. Kind of. Also I make two very important clarifications, one of which is about bongos.
In which Emma somehow manages to provide spoilers for her own damn blog.
In which Emma posts a lot of cat photos, even for Emma.
I’ve struggled with whether or not to post a weekly photograph post this week, just because it’s been a week of so, so very many griefs, personal and national, private and public. It’s been a week of far, far too many people, too many good and talented and hopeful people, gone. Just suddenly gone. And …
In which Emma gets all festive and glittery.
A belated but grateful photo recap.
In which Emma combines Instagram, poetry, and general misanthropy in an attempt to make the most obnoxious blog entry ever.
In which Emma is tired and skips the intro.