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emmanation

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

I might’ve known it would be red

February 17th, 2015 by biscuit

The bathroom at work that inspired my ‘common sense’ (i.e. wash your hands where I tell you to because I’m bossy) post has recently been the site of three new short episodes. The first two are weird, the third is gross and the primary topic here. Just warning everyone.

The first two are best represented by the IMs I sent immediately after they happened:

me: I was just in the bathroom and a woman came in and went into a stall and said OW a bunch of times and then started singing
friend: Ewww WTF
me: I have no idea

it was SO WERID
weird
she must have had drinks at lunch or something
I can’t think of any other explanation
or she’s having a stroke
?
friend: I hope nothing scary is happening with her lady parts
me: she seemed generally pleased

despite the ‘ow‘s

It was true. The ow’s were somehow not troublesome. More like pulling off an  irritating bandaid that you’re super pleased to no longer have on your skin.

No one was found in the bathroom later having suffered from a stroke.

Second thing: 

me: WHAT IS HAPPENIN
ok
so I was just in the same bathroom where the lady said ow ow ow the other day?
and there was someone who I am 85% sure was different
whispering to herself in the stall!
same friend: that is so weird
that bathroom makes people crazy!
me: the only thing I heard was ‘well that is disappointing’ but there was a LOT

Third thing. Same bathroom. (If you’re a man who knows me, just be aware this is about to get period-y. I don’t care if you read it as long as you don’t whine about it being yucky after I obviously forewarned you.)

I’ve been using a diva cup off and on for a couple of years, maybe? (Diva cup: a little cuppy thing you stick up into your vagina to collect menstrual blood. You change it every 8 – 12 hours unless you’re me in which case you change it once a day because a) I bleed a lot compared to how much I used to because of this dumb IUD but not actually that much in the grand scheme of things and b) I’m gross.) I would use it every day of every period if I could, but some days it doesn’t work, somehow. Like, you have to fold it and twist it and stuff and some days it just doesn’t fold and twist and you get tired of sticking silicone into yourself and spinning it around and pulling it back out, so you give up.

A couple of months ago, I took it out in the shower and my hand slipped while I was holding it and it hit the ground and bounced and I was covered in blood. It was very, very Carrie.

This morning was one of the not twisting and spinning and holding mornings. My damn period is almost over, so I put in a pantyliner and moved on with my day. It went fine (although I forgot deodorant because COME ON, there are only so many things a woman can remember on a given morning) but this afternoon I sneezed and I got that unpleasant ‘gosh something just came out of me’ feeling. (If you don’t know that feeling, that’s fine, but I suspect that means you’re a prepubescent woman or one of the aforementioned men who didn’t heed my warning. For you guys, it’s like … um, ok you know how sometimes you sneeze and you can tell a bunch of spit came out of your mouth? That’s the best I can do.)  I was wearing a red skirt. Red, good, skirt, bad, so I hightailed it to the bathroom to see what the damage was.

Minimal. However. The pantyliner had put up a good fight, but was ready for honorable discharge. I hadn’t brought any replacements to work, much less to the bathroom (downside of the diva cup, you get lazy) so I re-dressed and fiddled for a quarter. I tried the pad dispenser. It returned my quarter. I tried the tampon dispenser. It kept my quarter but gave me no tampon.

There was no option left for me but to build a toilet paper contraption that would last me until I found a better solution. You know the one – a wad of TP, with a long piece wrapped around it and the crotch of your underwear to hold it in place? Yeah, that one. As I was wrapping

deep breath

as I was wrapping, someone came in, and I realized that I had been muttering to myself.

I was talking to myself in the crazy talk to yourself bathroom. What was I saying? Don’t even know. Probably something about ow and being disappointed?

 

don’t you ever say I just walked away

February 11th, 2015 by biscuit

Dean peed on Maida’s head today. It left a cute yellow stripe. He was originally supposed to be neutered tomorrow, but that’s not happening now due to reasons that the foster coordinator explained over the phone while reception was bad.

I do know that neutering him won’t stop him from peeing on Maida’s head. He will of course still have a penis, and he will be able to point that penis at things, he just won’t have the dangly bits. I was sort of hoping that without the dangly bits he’d be less motivated to wake up at 4:09 am demanding belly rubs, wrestling, and her  warm spot near my belly from me, Agnes, and Maida respectively,  but that may have been wishful thinking. I don’t really understand testosterone, not having an ample internal source from which to draw.

Also, today I went to the dentist. At the dentist, I spent a lot of time alternately ‘ahahr ghgsh shsh’ing when there were hands in my mouth and ‘gosh I don’t know exactly what’s going on with me and Crockett’ when there weren’t, because the dentist went to college with Crockett and his charming wife who I actually love a lot would LOVE to come to a Crockett/Emma wedding.

Basically a lot of HOME TRUTHS today, people. I have the same friends and places to hang out and also dentists as I did when I had a boyfriend and sometimes that’s a pain in the ass, and I have a dog who pees really high instead of squatting like a delicate lady. This is my life now.

(What qualifies as a home truth? It doesn’t have to be, like, a real problem, does it? It can be a wussy I’m feeling sorry for myself because it’s just one of those times kind of problems, right? If not, please inform me of what I should be calling these issues.)

the basement

February 9th, 2015 by biscuit

I was totally sure I was going to be terrified of the basement when I moved into my new house.

Like, I was one hundred percent planning on installing a lock on the living room side. So much so that I’d planned my conversation with the people at the hardware store in order to minimize how likely they were to call the police and tell them some crazy chick had people locked under her house.

However, since moving in, it’s been sort of a non-issue. I mean, I don’t go DOWN there. Especially not at night, and really not even during the day when there’s no one else here. (Don’t worry, I put this thing that will beep really loud if it starts to flood on the floor. I am a responsible homeowner, after all. (As long as you have no questions about what else I’ve done.)) But I’m not nearly as stressed about it as I anticipated.

My little brother really thinks I should watch The Babadook. “A single mother, plagued by the violent death of her husband, battles with her son’s fear of a monster lurking in the house, but soon discovers a sinister presence all around her.”

Monster. House.

LOOK.

JUST LOOK.

I want to watch it, I do, but.

THE BASEMENT.

Anybody wanna come over and watch it with me?

dat elephant

February 8th, 2015 by biscuit

Ok, he’s not an elephant in the room. He’s a new dog in the house. Is there a saying for that?

IMG_1850

His name is Dean. First it was Little Britches (in whatever flyover state it was that he came from, I either didn’t ever know or am so bad at geography that I can’t remember), then when the rescue organization here got him they changed his name to Seymour. I loved it in theory, but in practice it just don’t fit, man.

The deal is, I applied as interested in an adoption from this rescue like a month ago. That lil guy ended up being adopted by his foster family, which is great, but the rescue said hey what did you like about him? I said he was a small male terrier not baby not old guy, and they emailed me the week after to say hey Seymour is coming on Feb 14th would you be interested in fostering him? I possibly, do you know how big he really is, and they emailed (days later again) that he’s 17 pounds. They attached the foster application paperwork to that email.

I gave it a lot of thought. Maida’s epilepsy is a source of stress right now because we don’t have her meds dialed in, and also three dogs and one person is a lot. I decided that it wasn’t the right time, and I didn’t submit the foster application.

Then on Friday they emailed me that Seymour was arriving in Colorado on Saturday morning and would be waiting for me at noon an hour south of my house.

So to be clear, I never confirmed that I wanted him, AND this is a full week before I would have been expecting him in any case.

And yet here he is.

IMG_1780

He’s potty trained and he likes to snuggle. Aggie’s not sure about him and Maida couldn’t care less.

Oh, and he’s named Dean after Dean Winchester. Yes, today, his first full day with our family (he’s only definitely staying a week but unless the girls completely fail to warm up more to him who am I kidding) is James Dean’s birthday. Yes, he does have a sort of Dean Martin old school gentlemanly charm.

Even so. Dean Winchester.

I am who I am.

 

 

well there goes my future man plan

February 5th, 2015 by biscuit

The day I closed on my new house, I went to Boulder optimistically at the time I was expected to be there for the closing, even though several pieces of information should have led me to believe that the closing was going to be delayed. (Spoiler alert, totally delayed.)

While I was waiting, I went to the mall and looked at expensive cabinet pulls at Anthropologie, and I went to Target and bought a microwave. Then, shockingly, the closing was further delayed, so I went to Barnes and Noble to look for the latest issue of Cherry Bombe. Didn’t find it, but did find something magical.

I half picked up two separate handsome Boulder dudes in the magazine aisle by looking at Modern Farmer. I don’t know what it was, but both of them started following me around after they saw me flip through it. I didn’t talk to either of them because MY LIFE but I had this idea that Modern Farmer would be my salvation should I need to meet a new fella.

AND NOW.