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emmanation

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

Archive for September, 2010

best day ever

Thursday, September 23rd, 2010

I woke up to the best news I’ve ever had this morning.

That’s right, y’all. I’ve waited several long weeks, but the benefits of being a student are starting to roll in. Free two day shipping!! Think of all the things that are languishing in my Amazon cart that I can now have by Monday!

I never really got into Daria, but I feel like I'd love it if I just had the full DVD set.

Wouldn't I just be so Joan that you could die? Plus, I would avoid events like yesterday when I dropped a bottle of club soda at the supermarket and a cleanup crew had to come and everyone looked at me like I did it on purpose and should have mopped up my own damn mess which I would have EXCEPT how I am I supposed to know where they keep the mops at the supermarket? (The ones to use, I mean, not the ones to buy. If I'd opened a new one to mop up an 81 cent container of club soda that would have been silly.)

I don't really want these, but Amazon recommended them for me. I've certainly never ordered canned fish online before, so who knows what they're thinking - but the point is that if I want to find out, I could have them Monday! For free!

I’m used to that whole free shipping thing taking weeks. Crockett’s birthday isn’t until next month and I ordered his present three days ago, just so I’d be sure it would arrive on time. Now?

I want it?

Boom, I got it.

P.S. Yes, I understand that I still have to pay for the items themselves. Yes, that does mean I won’t actually be ordering any of them. However, it’s nice to know I COULD. ON SHORT NOTICE. AND GET THEM IN TIME. Yay.

P.P.S. Does anyone know what other cool stuff I can get with my .edu email address? I know Apple gives 10% off… what else?

17 computers a day

Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010

I’m going to need you guys to not laugh, ok?

I think I might have picked my current major of Computer Science because of Hackers. Sure, that sounds like the kind of life decision one might not want to leave to some mid-90s movie. But if one were going to do such a goofy thing, one could do worse than Hackers.

First and most pimportantly, the technology was so fascinatingly fabulous that it makes anything I can currently make a computer do look like a monkey with a stick did it.

No computer lab I've ever seen has looked anything like this.

Nonsensical text rarely floats around my head while I program.

Sure, it’s unrealistic. But it’s so purdy!

Secondly, how cool are hackers themselves?

The hotness!

Really fucking cool, that’s how cool.

Thirdly, there is a sense of humor and insiderness that I simply must be a part of.

The blue poster: Information is Penetration. Tell me that's not an inside joke and I'll tell you that you obviously weren't watching this movie as carefully as I was so you should probably zip your lip before I zip it for you.

And finally? The nicknames.

Sure, Crash and Burn are taken, but I'm sure I could find something else. Also, does anyone know why the lights in this office building are connected to a computer, making them hackable?

I’m a sucker for a good nickname. Some of my ladies on twitter are currently calling me Cajun Spice (for no good reason that I can see, but that’s not really the point, now is it?), and I’m accepting suggestions for a good hacker nickname.

So, Hackers, thank you. Thank you for shaping my life. And for being unrealistic, funny, and full of hot people.

Hack the Planet, y’all.

you can wake up younger under the knife

Tuesday, September 21st, 2010

Most of the time I write my posts in the morning, before I start the rest of my daily ablutions. (Does anyone else think that word is funny?)

Sometimes, though, I’ll have a half formed idea and write something up and stick it in the drafts folder for an emergency braindead day.

Today, I looked at my drafts. I found a post titled ‘you can wake up younger under the knife’ (why, that’s the very post you’re reading! How crazy!). The post had absolutely no content.

So, last week Emma who thought this was a good and useful idea?

You’re stupid.

Everyone, blame her for the lameness of this post today. Not me. This is totally not my fault.

P.S. I wrote a slightly less waste-of-our time post on The Road. If you’re bored. Or whatever.

diet tonic and dianetics are not the same thing

Monday, September 20th, 2010

I’m about to do something that’s going to sound like I’m fake bitching in order to compliment myself, but that’s not what I’m doing.

You know that thing, right? Like, if I were to say “you guys, it’s just so HARD for me to pay for my own drinks at the bar and as an independent woman I find that insulting”. That would actually be me saying “I’m so hot. No, really. I’m so hot. And it’s really irritating, except not. ” (A stranger has never purchased a drink for me, in case you’re wondering.)

That’s not what I’m doing when I say this, ok?

I really need my girlfriends to stop telling me that all men want to sleep with me.

I know they think they’re being complimentary. I know that because I’ve absolutely been guilty of throwing comments like this around. In a bar, if some guy looks at my girlfriend for longer than a passing glance, I point him out in hushed tones and we dissect whether he’s married (usually), cute (sometimes), and good enough for her (never). I say with absolute certainty that he wants to get with her in dirty dirty ways, and when someone looks at me the same way she returns the favor.

I have no problem whatsoever with this.

Let me give you an example of where the entire circle breaks down.

I recently met someone in an networking environment. This person was smart and trying new and exciting things and, in a possibly dubious move, thought that perhaps I’d have interesting things to say about … (my gender neutral pronoun plan has broken down, and clearly you know I’m talking about a man anyway) his new business ventures, and so he suggested that we have coffee.

I thought this was brilliant. I’m trying to become more familiar with the Boulder tech scene. I’m trying to make new friends. He’s smart and funny and seems kind of awesome and I freaking swear to all that is holy when he said let’s get coffee and talk about entrepreneurial shit, I assumed that he meant let’s get coffee and talk about entrepreneurial shit.

Know why I thought that? Cause that’s what he meant. And honestly? I was excited.

And then several people, including two of my best friends and my mom, said something like “he probably wants to sleep with you”.

Serioulsy, people.

Not everyone wants to sleep with everyone.

It’s like…. a thing. A thing where you can pretend that everyone wants to sleep with everyone when it’s fun and it’s just among you and it doesn’t have anything to do with anyone’s life, but ?

This is a situation in which it helps no one. And my youngish handsomeish male mentor, who I was never able to comfortably tell my friends about because they’d inevitably suggest that his glowing recommendations were somehow related to my appearance and status (unmarried and subordinate).

It’s nice to have girlfriends who bolster my confidence. It’s nice to have my girlfriends tell me that the hottest guy in the bar is totally into me and just isn’t buying me a drink because he doesn’t want to come across as desperate. It’s not TRUE, but that’s sort of the point, right?

It kills me that it’s possible that my mentor wanted to sleep with me. It kills me that I’m not able to say that it was definitely my promise and intelligence that made him want to spend time with me.

In situations like that, I need my friends to assure me that it’s not about sex. That I am more than a pretty face or a younger version of what’s waiting at home.

I didn’t have coffee with entrepeneur guy. I got sick and cancelled, and he hasn’t tried to reschedule.

Of course, neither have I.

Because now? I’m sort of worried that he just wanted to sleep with me.

the fates were against me

Friday, September 17th, 2010

I failed to post today for reasons that were entirely beyond my control.

First, a spider crawled across my lunch. (That’s first in order of DEFCON level, not chronology.)

Second, my clean clothes fell into someone else’s shower puddle at the gym.

Third, GoDaddy hates me and didn’t want me to be able to write or post.

So there you go. It’s possible that you’re thinking of genius ways to solve all of these issues, and to that all I can say is “where the hell were you 10 hours ago, smartypants?”

Oh, you were sitting at your desk? Waiting for me to tell you my problems so you could help solve them?

As long as your solutions didn’t involve me eating smooshed spiders, I stand down. You win.