Image 01

emmanation

You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

as it should be

September 18th, 2014 by biscuit

There’s a website that I love, that I’ve always been a little embarrassed to love. I primarily read it at night when I’m trying to fall asleep. There’s something about the list format that I find soporific - maybe because it’s easy to quit? Complete little mental bites and then move right along to either the next one or sleepiness.

That website is Cracked, and it has recently, sneakily, become pretty fucking feminist.

I’m not embarrassed to read it anymore. (Please note that I am talking specifically about the articles and quick fixes (essentially shorter articles). The videos and stuff might be terrible, I don’t know, I basically don’t watch videos on the internet. Get off my damn lawn.)

Oh, you want examples? Let’s do it.

Old Cracked: The 6 Most Inappropriate Porn-Character Occupations
S
ample line:

CHARLES MANSON
She who believes in hell, must believe in me!
WOMAN
Do you believe that I’m sexy?


New Cracked: 4 Ways Gamers Still Suck at Dealing with Women
Sample line: There’s a baffling disconnect where gamers want to be taken seriously, but they also want to be able to call Quinn (or Anita Sarkeesian, or Brianna Wu, or Jennifer Hepler, or the woman who just chainsawed them in half in Gears of War) insults that the average convicted sex offender would consider over the line. They want to have their asshole cake and eat it too.

Do you think that’s cheating? Because the old article was not intentionally anti-woman while the new article was clearly pro-woman? WRT the old article, I’m not saying they used to be anti-woman, I’m just saying they used to casually write whole articles that were jokes about female porn stars. For the new article I could have gone further and used the fact that they published an article by Zoe Quinn. (Quick summary: Zoe Quinn is a gamer/game designer/game maker who had parts of her sexual past revealed online and then was … I still don’t really understand. She was one of the various women who has been attacked lately for daring to be a gamer with a vagina out loud.) I could have gone straight for the anonymous, true story of being a sex slave in modern America. The gamers article seems kind of tame in comparison, but let’s go for a more innocuous example.

Old Cracked: 14 Valentine’s Day Gifts Guaranteed to Not Get You Laid
Sample line: The other problem is that even if a guy appeared in a real wedding magazine, he’d go to the ends of the earth to make sure his friends never found out.

New Cracked: 5 Classic Movies You Didn’t Notice Were Completely Insane
Sample line: It’s parody so I can’t really quote it but they call out the statutory rape in Indiana Jones.

I know, it’s not groundbreaking. The old one illustrates the ‘men don’t like girl things’ attitude that was prevalent in a lot of articles as well as anything I could find, and the new one takes beloved pop culture to task for an adult man sleeping with a sixteen year old. One more.

Old Cracked: Wives: A Users Guide
Sample line: Wives do not have an off switch. They talk constantly. To check that you are listening, they will drop something intelligent amongst the usual inane shit. Respond to that. Or else.

New Cracked: What We Really Mean When We Talk About Leaked Pics
S
ample line: And, yes, this is an issue specific to women; there likely won’t be a public-shaming of men who take naked selfies, because those aren’t the pictures that hackers are going to track down and share publicly. 

Right? RIGHT?

I’m just pleased that a funny website that isn’t specifically (or even superficially) geared towards women is starting to read this way. To be clear, they’ve always had some reasonable content. They used to have a specific writer named Christina H who nailed a lot of body shaming stuff, and most everything else was pretty neutral and also pretty funny (which is why I’ve been reading off and on for years).

I guess it’s just nice that instead of being surprised by a random ‘those ladies be cray amirite’, I’m now more often surprised by content that treats women as people who are both worth reading about and respecting as readers.

It’s sad that I’m so pleased by a website being as it should be that I’m actually writing about it, but, you know. Steps.

let’s drink and watch …

September 12th, 2014 by biscuit

Watching: Filth.

Thirty seconds in and I’ve already lost track because of the accents.

This bodes well for the evening.

Watching: The Banshee Chapter

Drinking: NoCo

  • Starting with some MK Ultra trivia, I like it, I like it. Especially when it’s delivered by Bill Clinton and people in the dark or with their faces blurred out, old school 60 Minutes style or what have you.
  • Goddamn it the main female character has a British accent. Isn’t that why I turned off Filth? Her goofy face buddy is about to take whatever they gave people during the MK Ultra experiment. On purpose. I’m more likely to get all the way through this movie than this is to end well for him.
  • OH SHIT MAN. That went from eerie to jump scare to fuck me sideways in about eight seconds. If someone tripping on experimental government drugs ever whispers ‘it’s getting closer to the house’ to me, I am out like Neil Patrick Harris.
  • The drugs came from unnamed ‘friends in Colorado’. I’M in Colorado RIGHT NOW! I could be surrounded!
  • Now numbers stations. Does streaming this movie get you put on some kind of watch list? I already streamed it awhile ago but didn’t actually watch (writing? redditing? sleeping?) so I guess it’s too late to worry about that.
  • My general instinct regarding the question ‘did you used to work for the NSA’ is that you do not ask it of anyone ever. Particularly an old fellow who is about to give you directions regarding where to go in the middle of nowhere in the desert to listen to a radio broadcast. Of course, I would also never get out of the car and yell ‘is anyone here’ in the middle of said desert in the deepest dark of the night, so miss protagonist (Anne) and I are at odds about a lot of things.

Guys, I didn’t think this was going to be very scary but it is.

I have nothing but horror movies in my Netflix list.

What is wrong with me.

I mean I love scary movies but I’m alone and I have to take the girls out to pee in awhile and walk around a deserted parking lot and then come back to an empty apartment. THIS IS NO TIME FOR BANSHEE CHAPTER and the like.

I’m just going to watch Veronica Mars again. Have you seen it? You should. Since I already have my wine out, I’d drink and watch this for ya but it would look a lot like this:

  • She said marshmallow! (When we were in the theater watching this we all hollered when that happened, it was awesome.)
  • It’s Carrie Bishop!
  • MR MARS!
  • Oh my god Logan is the WORST.
  • “You should only wear that.”

Etc. Not even as mildly rewarding as my usual chatter.

Speaking of Kickstarter (which I was), I contributed to this and now I have some temporary literary-themed tattoos coming in the mail. Badass.

 

well fuck me with a chainsaw

September 9th, 2014 by biscuit

Here’s how this was supposed to work.

My lease on my apartment originally ended Oct 15th.

My house was supposed to be done Oct 30th.

I checked with my complex and sure enough, for about one million dollars, I could stay through Nov 15th instead. Perfect. Well, not perfect, but not the end of the world.

Now the house is going to be done ‘sometime in November’ but understandably (construction is a bitch apparently?) no one is comfortable promising me that it will on or before the 15th. That means:

  • extending my lease through Dec 15th (for a second one million dollars, of course) OR
  • hoping for the best and putting all of my shit into storage on Nov 15th and commencing the couch surfing if it doesn’t work out

Neither of those are good choices.

I knew this was a possible outcome, and this is not an impossible situation. If I commit to the second extra month of rent, though, and then the house is done in late Nov, that doubled up mortgage/rent combo money is money that would otherwise go towards a washing machine. Can I live without a washing machine in December? Of course. People make that shit work all the time. I don’t actually know where there’s a laundromat in the suburban Front Range, but they must exist.

I just kept thinking ‘it’s going to work out fine’ because I couldn’t see an alternative. I’m actually really tempted to continue doing so.

Either way, I have to let the complex know by Friday. Nov 15th? Dec 15th? Anyone wanna vote?

song & food

September 8th, 2014 by biscuit

You ever have a song that just …

Image-1

(That’s OBVIOUSLY me and OBVIOUSLY a big sword, right?)

I think Crockett tried to get me to go see the National once or twice, but I could be wrong about that. A lot of bands have names like that, kind of, ya know?

Speaking of names, what the ever loving fuck is going on with the ampersands in restaurant names? Allow me to present an incomplete roundup of new or relatively new restaurants in the Denver area:

  • Stoic & Genuine
  • Work & Class
  • Salt & Grinder
  • Beast + Bottle (counting it, pronounced the same)
  • Colt & Grey
  • Williams & Graham
  • Z Cuisine & A Cote
  • Mercantile Dining & Provision
  • Guard & Grace
  • Rooster & Moon
  • Olive & Finch

NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THOSE IS MADE UP. I left off some older ones like Eat + Drink and Hops & Pie, because I think they were pre-bandwagon, but fuck it, let’s count them too.

(Should I have warned of a curse heavy post?)

That’s a baker’s dozen with a mere 5 minutes of research. Is this happening in other cities? Is this a sign of something? Are aliens that are shaped like ampersands trying to acclimate us, perhaps?

If this name generator didn’t already exist, I would have wished that it did.

 

so many tiny hairs

September 7th, 2014 by biscuit

Being of Italian descent, there are a lot of ways I could go with a post about hair.

However, today I got the hairs on my head cut. By this woman who I think is the most amazing stylist ever.

This is our story.

Like four years ago, the daughter of the family that owns me and Crockett’s favorite restaurant showed up with an amazing haircut and I complimented her on it and asked who did it, because I was in desperate need of a haircut at the time. She told me it was a woman named Emmy and I called her and made an appointment.

She’s a teeny tiny brunette woman who, at the time, lived in Nederland (where I grew up). She had my goal hair (which, as always, was sort of piece-y and easy and just super hot) and I was shy and nerdy when speaking to her. She gave me an amazing haircut that I can’t find a picture of. (Facebook, what the fuck are you good for if not for finding pictures of your hair from four years ago?) She was basically like me if I was cooler and had decided to cut hair instead of do math.

She intimated the shit out of me, and by the time I called to make another appointment she’d moved to LA. TO LOS ANGELES. Best haircut I’d ever had in my life and the woman who did it just up and went halfway across the country.

Three years later, I had terrible hair. You can only go to cheap stylists and say ‘please do exactly what I have but shorter’ for so long. Eventually it gets blurred into generic hair shape.

I googled Emmy to look longingly at her portfolio, because I apparently remember a good stylist better than, say, high school boyfriends. (True story – my high school boyfriend’s last name was the French word for something else, and the other day I was trying to see if he’d gotten ugly because dear lord all the rest of my ex boyfriends (Crockett excluded, handsome as ever) have gotten ugly (or they always were? and I just didn’t used to be shallow?) and I googled his name with the English translation for like ten minutes before I realized what the problem was.) She was back in Boulder, so I made an appointment and went. It was right before we went to San Francisco.

Unwashed, unbrushed, amazing.

Then she went and had a baby and stopped working for awhile (and one million congratulations to her for that).

So I waited, and grew it all long, and went to a stylist a friend recommended and medium loathed the outcome, and occasionally googled.

And then.

Unmade up. Super pleased.

Just cut, unmade up, super pleased.

She’s back.

You guys, I don’t know how to explain how important this is. Everyone’s hair is a pain in the ass, and everyone should have a stylist who understands the ways in which that pain exists.

High school boyfriends come and go (patently untrue once high school is over unless you are an adult making EXCEPTIONALLY poor choices but just let me say this) but a stylist who understands your hair and that you like it to be a-little-punk-a-little-shaggy-but-never-ever-like-the-mom-from-the-brady-bunch is forever.