MTV Guide

Due to the aforementioned unpleasant weather conditions in the city of Chicago, I've been watching highly detrimental quantities of MTV. In fact, studies show that my brain has withered to half its normal size over the month of February. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that there's a lot more to MTV programming than the TV Guide capsule descriptions imply.

As a latecomer to the realm of digital cable, I remain fascinated with the control-it-yourself TV Guide feature and the "Info" button, which allows one to read the premise of a show before it is aired. But, if I were allowed to write the "Info" for some of the MTV shows I watch regularly (OK, repeatedly), I would really try to get my facts straight. See below.

MY SUPER SWEET 16

TV Guide premise: Teens plan elaborate 16th-birthday parties.

Emma's premise: Suburban youths make regrettable formalwear selections and emulate gangsta behaviorisms/porn-inspired dance moves at parties costing more than it will take to elect a new president in 2008.

THE HILLS

TV Guide premise: A reality series following Lauren Conrad from 'Laguna Beach' as she moves to Los Angeles, where she tries to break into the fashion industry, starting with an internship at Teen Vogue.

Emma's premise: A succession of blondes in designer sunglasses pine over unattractive sub-par love interests and practice the art of the long pause.

MAUI FEVER

TV Guide premise: A reality series following the lives of seven young people in Kaanapali, Maui.

Emma's premise: Against a lush tropical backdrop, people tanned to the point of crackling and in severe need of Blistex engage in elementary relationship-oriented dialogue using such key phrases as "I'm like, way bummed," "I'm super stoked," and "are you sad?"

ENGAGED & UNDERAGE

TV Guide premise: Following young engaged couples (ages 18-21) in the final weeks before their weddings.

Emma's premise: Mere children don bridal attire and make public declarations of love to fiancées for whom they have previously expressed extreme dislike.

Every Millisecond Counts (Conversational Shortcuts)

For those of you who can't be bothered to utter complete words in everyday conversation, please refer to this list of my favorite and most often used acronyms:

T.C. = Time Check OR Temperature Check
Usage 1: "Isn't American Idol coming on any minute now? Let's get a T.C., please."
Usage 2: "I know! Let's go around the circle and guess how cold it is outside; then we'll turn on the Weather Channel for a T.C.!"
Usage 3 (advanced): [To person with remote] "Can I get a T.C. on channel 96 and a T.C. on 99?"

P.T.H. = Ponytail Holder
Usage: "My hair's suffocating me to death. Does anyone have an extra P.T.H.?"

G.C. = Good Call
Usage: "Let's stop at Starbucks for hot apple ciders." "Oh, G.C."

V.R. = Volume Reduction
Usage: "Good Lord, I'm trying to concentrate on my crossword puzzle! Let's get a V.R. on that State of the Union address!"

V.I. = Volume Increase
Usage: "Are we watching this or not? V.I., please! I can't tell if they said Marissa DIED or she needs a RIDE."

B.T.S. = Back to Sleep
Usage: "My insomnia was so bad last night I was forced to watch an episode of The Real Housewives of Orange County to help me get B.T.S."

R.O. = Roll Out
Usage: "I can't listen to that Beyonce song again, and plus, my feet hurt. It's time to R.O."

G.P. = General Public OR Gently Priced
Usage 1: "There's no way I'm paying cover. That is sooo G.P."
Usage 2: Q. "What kind of wine should I get?" A. "Just grab something G.P."
Usage 3 (advanced): Q. "Where should we go for dinner?" A. "I'm in the market for somewhere G.P. but not too G.P."

To Do and Not To Do

Well, another New Year's Eve come and gone. I honestly have no idea how anyone lives up to the pressure to have so much Fun! Fun! Fun!, seeing as it's a close second to Valentine's Day for Most Overrated Night of the Year. But, rather than relive fiascos of New Year's Eves past (fights, tears, hours spent waiting for cabs, bad champagne, itchy sparkle sweaters, etc.), I think we'd all be better off with a few lists:

Five Things I Shall Do in 2007
1. Eat strawberries straight off the vine (something I just had an uncontrollable craving for due to the fact that I'm drinking a raspberry-apple Vitamin Water, which is somewhat reminiscent of a melted strawberry smoothie).
2. Go on a trip that does not involve taking Lake Shore Drive South to I-55; then 90/94 to Indiana; then the Indiana Toll Road to I-65 South; remaining on I-65 South through Indianapolis and stopping at O'Charley's for a chicken salad; counting down the last 100 miles; and taking I-71 to the Zorn Avenue exit in Louisville.
3. Wear colors other than black.
4. Pay off my Bloomingdale's and other similar charge accounts and shred the cards into a million little pieces.
5. Somehow, some way, get tickets to Oprah.

Five Things I Shall Not Do in 2007
1. Stare at various illuminated screens for more than half of a 16-hour day.
2. Forget people's names immediately upon meeting them.
3. Live under the assumption that people who have met me more than three times do not know my name.
4. Answer 4AM calls from notorious drunk dialers, especially on weeknights.
5. Become addicted to an array of new and incredibly tempting MTV programming, including shows with such titles as "I'm From Rolling Stone" and "Maui Fever."

Five Things I'm Not Desperate to Do Ever Again
1. Eat at Steak & Shake.
2. Forget there's a large but hidden hole in the floorboard of my car; take car through the automatic carwash with the "undercarriage spray" option; spend the next two days waiting for the bubbles to recede.
3. Be startled awake and momentarily placed under the impression that the city is under siege when my upstairs neighbor drops what are probably 50-lb. blocks of steel onto the floor directly above my head at 3:23AM.
4. Pay $75 for a single bag of groceries at Whole Foods.
5. Stand on my bed, frantically trying to hold the vacuum close enough to the ceiling so that it sucks up a swift-moving, 8-billion-legged centipede before the insect can fall on me in the dark and take refuge in my hair.

Ho Ho Ho

It's Christmas, and this morning I experienced one of the best "your mammy" moments of my life. Here's how it happened:

Mom: The coffee cake just overflowed all over my oven! The house is going to reek of smoke all day!

Me: I told you it was a bad idea to leave out the baking powder.

Mom: Well, it's not like the grocery's open today. What was I supposed to do? Anyway, this bundt pan is too small for this cake... it overflows every year. Next year, I'm giving up and ordering a chocolate pan roll from Plehn's [bakery].

[Silence, as I attempt to scrape an edible bite of half-cooked dough out of the pan]

Mom: It's sticking something awful... I don't think I got the bundt greasy enough.

Me: Your mammy's bundt's not greasy enough!

It just doesn't get any better than that. Merry Christmas.

Your Mammy

For at least the past year (and possibly since childhood), I have found myself unable to discontinue use of the phrase "your mammy." (It is occasionally written as "yer mammy," though I prefer the more formal variation.) This phrase is constantly popping into my brain as a response to almost any item of conversation. For example:

Mom (with meaningful glance at brother lounging on sofa): I wish people would get off their butts and help me put away these dishes.
Me (gleefully): Your mammy wishes people would put away dishes!

Anonymous friend: I'm parched. Let's stop for Vitamin Waters.
Me: Your mammy needs a Vitamin Water!

Surprisingly, not everyone is amused by these exchanges, which often carry a slightly vulgar subtext.

Meanwhile, who agrees that the Pamela Anderson/Kid Rock breakup won't last? Those two are meant for each other. I saw them at a Derby party in 1999 and I could tell it was love.

A Temptation, a Prize and a Dispute

It is sapping every ounce of willpower I possess to refrain from buying the third season of The O.C. on DVD. If I were to do this, I would likely neglect my work, friends, family, bills, blog, etc. until all 25 episodes have been viewed. Oh, Seth and Summer. Oh, Marissa and Ryan. I miss you so.

Last night I was at a truck stop in Who-Knows-Where, Indiana, and I asked the clerk to check a Powerball ticket I've been carrying in my wallet since my birthday in September. Shockingly, I won $100. It was my biggest Lotto win to date and a thrilling moment, to be sure. Powerball tickets provide such endless entertainment during the long, flat drive up I-65. There are so many moneyed possibilities to consider.

I'm currently enmeshed in a dispute with my sister Claire over a pair of dangly gold earrings. A former boyfriend purchased them for her, and soon after the two parted ways I transferred the earrings to my own jewelry box and began wearing them regularly. That was several years ago, and the statute of limitations on borrowed accessories now renders me the rightful owner (don't you think?). Anyway, I believe Claire to be the perpetrator of a plot to regain possession. The earrings mysteriously vanished from my bedside table whilst I was visiting the homestead in Louisville this past weekend, and when I asked her if she'd seen them, she said: "You better not have lost those earrings, Emma!" Hmm. I searched her room to no avail, but I am still convinced MY earrings are in there somewhere.

The Fate of a Fish

One moment you're walking by the lake, watching dark clouds roll in and suffocate the skyline; the next moment there's a small flopping fish at your feet. It happened this morning when a fisherman accidentally tossed one of his bait fish onto the path in front of me at approximately 7:20AM. What a sucky start to the day for that fish--first, stabbed by a hook, then, tossed onto blacktop.

I am experiencing a surplus of umbrellas. There are two in my apartment--both compact and black, both from gift bags. At my desk there is the indestructible Wind-Pro Deluxe, with a system of strings underneath that causes it never to turn inside out (especially useful in the Windy City). In the trunk of my car there are three more: a silver umbrella with "Bloomingdale's" written all over it; a white one printed with comics from the Louisville Courier-Journal; and a faded red one with a curved wooden handle. Is that more umbrellas than a normal person needs? Severe weather be warned: I am armed.