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emmanation

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

Archive for September, 2012

oh jason

Thursday, September 27th, 2012

Jason Mraz was in town on Monday and Tuesday, and several of my facebook friends went to see him. He was his regular goofy self. He wore a fleece dinosaur onesie onstage. Star says he seemed high, which, yeah. I think that’s sort of his thing.

I used to be really really into Jason Mraz. Like, not only do I have bootleg bar recordings of many of his pre-fame shows, I have them memorized, drunken banter and all. Even on my phone now I have 128 Mraz songs.

I could sing ‘If It Kills Me‘ from  We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things. even with amnesia and a concussion.

Somehow, though, I’m sort of over it. I mean, I still respect him as a musician (particularly as a lyricist, because he’s FUNNY and what’s better than funny songs?), but this one time in college I found out that he had a girlfriend and I felt like I’d been dumped. Literally. I was as upset as I’d ever been in high school when broken up with by an actual boyfriend – you know, one who knew that I existed and stuff? I even had a serious, live in boyfriend of my own at the time. Of course, I wasn’t happy. I had a job I hated, I was in the process of getting over that actual boyfriend (although we didn’t break up for like a year), I didn’t like my town, I didn’t like my roommates… I probably needed something to hang on to.

Oh Jason, thanks for being there for me, then. I’m sorry I don’t seem to need you anymore, but I’m sure someone else does, so you just keep doing your thing.

Dino suit and all.

(Photo courtesy of Star. Thanks, honey!)

 

ok, have some damn candy

Wednesday, September 26th, 2012

A couple of weeks ago I bought an enormous bag of pretzel M&Ms from Target while I was on a lunchtime shopping trip with my coworker.

30 oz of pretzel-y, chocolate-y goodness. It's PARTY size, even.

Then I opened the bag and left it on my desk.

The thing is, I don’t really eat chocolate while I’m at work. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the stuff, obviously, especially when mixed with salty delicious pretzels. BUT – my chocolate desire tends to kick in a little later in the day. Like, right when I get home from work. I suspect that’s because we go like three hours between breakfast and lunch and are then expected to go like seven between lunch and dinner, but since I have the power to make snacks for myself, I should probably stop whining about that.  It is dumb, though. Lunch should really be at like 2:30 to make sense, temporally.

The point is, I’m not really eating these M&Ms and the bag is open in the corner of my cubicle.

And people keep coming in to eat it.

Which is fine. If I didn’t want people to eat it, why would I have it open on the corner of my desk? That would be dumb. Except? I really don’t like it when people come into my cubicle. I’ve worked very hard to make it a cozy home away from home. I have sweatshirts, and plants, and a rug (no, really), and a tissue box with a pig face on it. I have hairties and deodorant and a picture my dad took of  a shut down diner and a paper delivery boy decades ago. I have pictures of Crockett and Star. I have, oddly, a cutting board.

Having people from work come into my cubicle really steals the homey feeling I’ve been going for, here.

So why don’t I just put the candy somewhere else and let people have at it? Good idea!

Except then I wouldn’t get credit for being generous with my candy, which is very important to me. I bought them, damnit, and I want people to be like ‘oh that Emma sure is cool’ while they happily munch on their handful of sweet and salty goodness.

Who knew M&Ms could be this much trouble.

franken-peanut

Monday, September 24th, 2012

Peanut butter is trying to kill us again and I’m having flashbacks to my one serious bout of food poisoning. This may be the only time I’ve EVER been glad that there isn’t a Trader Joe’s around (a fact that will soon be remedied, thank goodness, even if they are putting their liquor store down in Cherry Creek instead of in Boulder like they should).

Speaking of poison, Crockett and I have been joking that our house is poisoning us for some time now because we haven’t been sleeping very well and Cloey has been indulging in quite a bit of puking (thanks, Clo! Because dog hair seems inconsequential when compared to dog puke!), and I’m starting to think it’s true. Although Maida, the smallest member of the household, is fine, and I suspect any actual poison would get her first, right? Because she’s tiny and also because she eats everything that she stumbles across? (That includes all the things that I put between her teeth while she’s yawning, because it amuses me when she closes her mouth on something and then goes ‘hm, well since it’s already there’ and just eats it.)

Maybe we’re on an old graveyard or something and the spirits just finally got tired of us. Or maybe I’m just so excited about Trader Joe’s that I can’t sleep. One of those two things is definitely true.

 

well THAT’S unappealing

Friday, September 21st, 2012

Do you ever feel like you smell bad? (Don’t worry, I’m not talking to YOU. I’m talking to the other people reading. YOU smell lovely.)

This one time, in high school, a girlfriend of mine very casually asked me if she smelled like BO because she’d forgotten to put on deodorant that morning. She lifted her arm so I could get a better whiff, even. I know that sounds kind of gross, but it wasn’t – at the time it just struck me as incredibly brave. She was my best friend but I never would have asked her something like that.

There are lots of things that some people are embarrassed about that I’ve worked hard not to be. Like leg hair and my period. I’m a lady, y’all, and that comes with stuff like that. Then there are things that I know I should embrace but haven’t quite mastered – weird extra long chin hairs, I’m looking at you.

(To be clear, I get RID of my leg and chin hairs, it’s just that I don’t panic if someone sees me with unshaven legs. The time on of my McGuckin’s coworkers thought I had a dog hair on my face and then pulled it to find that it was attached? WHOLE DIFFERENT THING.)

Someone recently wrote to xoJane because her friend smells like poop. She thinks that her friend sort of knows but maybe doesn’t really know – she even did this thing where she said ‘I smell poop, do you smell poop?’ and her friend looked at the bottom of her own shoes and said ‘well it isn’t me’ even though IT TOTALLY WAS HER.

I have a point with all of this, and that point is that I’m wearing a very cute scarf today but I think the scarf smells. I washed it with some towels that were maybe a little musty, and I think now that some of that smell not only survived but transferred. (Crockett is very good about separating laundry and I always think he’s being anal, but I guess maybe he won this one.)

So it smells to ME, but it’s right under my nose, and probably no ones else can smell it? And it’s sort of integral to my outfit today. Without the scarf I would merely be a girl in khakis, a hoodie, and flip flops. Not professional. With the scarf, it looks like the whole thing was on purpose. But no one will tell me if the scarf smells without me asking, and if I ask them I’m the weird girl with the smelly scarf.

So.

Do you ever feel like you smell bad?

schools of… school thought

Thursday, September 20th, 2012

My mom always used to say ‘if you want something to get done, give it to a busy person’. I always used to want to smack her when she did that. Not because it’s not true, or even because it’s a particularly irritating thing to say, but because sometimes when you’re a teenage girl everything that comes out of your mom’s mouth seems designed to drive you insane.

Sorry about that, mom.

I know you (probably) weren’t calling me lazy.

So yeah! She was totally right!

Like, how, when I was in school, I totally wrote a mystery novel, and now that I have my evenings and weekends free (and, lets face it, some of my daytimes too because data analysis involves a lot of writing queries and then waaaaiiiiiting) I’m writing nothing. At all.

My mom is a smart lady.

Also, how much do I hate Mitt Romney? LIKE SO MUCH.

(That last part was totally unrelated but, you know, sometimes I say stuff about politics and it’s probably pretty clear where my allegiance lies, but I just wanted to get it out there into the world forever and ever amen that I hate the man.)