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emmanation

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

Archive for June, 2014

god just get something to say already

Monday, June 23rd, 2014

Note: I read this before I published it and am aware that it is self indulgent whiny bullshit. However, I don’t have anything else to publish tonight so – maybe just don’t read it?

Are you ever bored with yourself?

I’m reading books. I’m watching tv. I’m building a house and playing the guitar and buying ridiculous dog accoutrements.

I just don’t feel interesting.

Maybe it’s because I’m not dating. That sounds fucking terrible, I know, but maybe that’s why. Maybe having someone who wasn’t me that cared about my minutiae helped to validate that little crap. Can that be right?

There are not-big things that happen that I turn into anecdotes, of course. Like, going dancing on Saturday night and the dumbasses who talked about my tattoos two feet behind me but then had nothing to say when I turned around. Or falling off my bike today because some dumbass opened his car door into the bike lane. These are the things I tell coworkers and acquaintances when we need something more than ‘how’s it going, good, you?’

(Is it possible that all my anecdotes involve people I think are dumbasses? That seems boring to me, even. I should have some about awesome people.)

OH ACTUALLY. My one of my coworkers (I would say I have four that are varying levels of friend. She is at the we-talk-about-personal-stuff but would never hang out outside work and I don’t trust her with real secrets even a little bit level. Like, she knows what I do about my mustache hair) had to run this pain in the ass errand today because she does a lot of volunteer work and whatever. She ended up in line in a government office through no fault of her own for two+ hours in downtown Denver.

At about three, we needed to work on something together, and she came and sat in my cube.

She smelled like chlorine.

Now I have this idea that she actually did have an errand but powered through super quick and spent an hour sitting by a pool somewhere. It was beautiful here today.

I really hope that’s true.

And that’s the kind of minutiae I’m talking about. There’s no punchline. No big reveal. It’s a smell and I hope that I have that a nice person snuck a Monday pool visit for herself.

SO BORING.

 

 

spoiled

Sunday, June 22nd, 2014

Maida isn’t particularly old. I sometimes have to remind myself of that, because of all of the old ladydog problems she has.

  • She has nine teeth. (That is a true statement. The others all fell out or were removed.)
  • She’s epileptic and takes four medications twice a day. I have one of those pill containers for her that has a little snap for each time of day/day of week thing just to keep track.
  • When she shakes herself off sometimes she does it too hard and falls over.
  • Her number one place to lay is on a person. I assume that’s because she hates laying on hard things, because she’s not picky about the person.
  • She has mild hip dysplasia and sometimes skips when she walks.
  • She occasionally inhales her own drool and then does this sort of reverse-sneeze gasping-for-breath thing for minutes at a time. Every time I think she’s going to die and every time she moves past it and forgets about it thirty seconds later.

Does it sound like I’m describing a six year old dog? No, right? It sounds like she’s right up there with my friend’s dog who is blind and deaf and has an ongoing case of mild pneumonia. Of course, that dog is fourteen.

Anyway, the point of the above list is as an introduction to something I recently purchased that might seem ridiculous if you were thinking she was a regular six year old dog. If you think of her as a fourteen year old dog trapped in a six year old dog’s timeline, it makes more sense. Or maybe as a six year old dog who was really poorly designed. She’s the lemon of the dog world.

Oh, also she doesn’t really like to walk and realllly doesn’t like to walk when it’s hot. Her legs are three inches long and her nose barely exists, so I can’t really blame her.

Ok. So the thing I bought:

Maida-in-a-bag.

Maida-in-a-bag.

It’s a bag/sling thing designed especially for carrying small dogs.

LOOK AT HER. She’s half asleep.

The pros are that Agnes and I can walk at a normal speed without leaving Maida at home, and Maida can get down for the occasional path party or what have you.

The cons are that I am now a person that walks my dog in a purse.

 

go sports go!

Thursday, June 19th, 2014

Here’s what I know about the World Cup:

1) The US isn’t out yet (that was true the last time I checked which I now realize was Tuesday so …). The US wasn’t out on Tuesday.

2) Some of the men aren’t ugly. (Every linked picture came from here. Just in case you’re looking for more. Or not. It’s all you.)

I am not a worldly woman.

 

have I already used ‘I’m so excited I’m so excited I’m so scared’?

Tuesday, June 17th, 2014

Today I got to go to the design center for my house.

 

This is what it the house currently looks like, so it’s a good thing I’m picking finishes.

 

The design center is a 6000 square foot fancy pants room that houses all of the things that I can put into my house. Wood floors, carpets, tile floors, bathroom walls, kitchen cabinets, tech center counters, bathroom counters, kitchen counters… Yeah. Everything.

 

I sent this picture to my family with the note 'not overwhelming at all' cause I'm a funny funny liar.

I sent this picture to my family with the note ‘not overwhelming at all’ cause I’m a funny funny liar.

 

I had basically the most fun I’ve had in forever. My designer Halsey (real name, awesome) was a woman about my age and was just super duper patient and helpful. (The salesperson for the houses is also a woman about my age, and is also super duper patient and helpful. I wonder if I would be as invested in this process if one of the people involved was a cranky crappy person.) Halsey said I was having more fun than anyone she’d ever worked with, which made me laugh and clap because that’s how the design center made me feel. Like laughing and clapping.

 

Floors.

Floors.

 

Halsey had an order for decision making in mind, but I told her that my priority was floors, kitchen, master bath, upstairs guest bath, and then everything else, so we went in that order. She’s the designer for the whole neighborhood, it turns out, so she was able to speak to what other people were doing which was really cool. Like, ‘you’ll be the only person with these floors so far’ kind of thing. I am not currently the only person with anything, but whatever. Things will be different inside because I am a different person and that’s how things work. I’m glad I was able to explain that to you.

So I started with wood for the main floor. Sorry. *Cough*. Engineered pre-finished wood. See, it’s real wood all the way through but it’s only solid hardwood for the very top part, like 1/8 – 1/4 of an inch. You can’t refinish it endlessly like you can solid hardwood, but it’s cheaper and just as real on top, so … suck it.

I was completely committed to the top sample for the first hour of the design. I built a whole kitchen around it, and then we moved onto the bathroom and everything looked so … BROWN. So we scratched that and moved on to the darker floor.

 

It's very pretty.

It’s very pretty.

 

It’s five inch hammered hickory. Yeah. Hammered hickory. (House name??) That means it’s all banged up. I pay extra for ripped jeans so you know I’m going to love that.

The tile on the bottom left is the Formica (Buffed Aluminum) that didn’t photograph very well, but it’s going to be the back part of the kitchen.

 

GRANITE.

GRANITE.

 

This, unless I decide to not be broke, is going to be the front part of the kitchen.

I didn’t think I had any interest in granite, honestly, but it just feels so … granitey. I mean, it’s cool and solid and heavy and just more beautiful than you can imagine by looking at it in this picture.

Wait, by ‘cool’ I meant literally cool, not like sunglasses on a dog cool. It’s chilly. It’s glacial. It’s perfect for rolling out pie dough. Cool.

 

The boring stuff.

The boring stuff.

 

This is for the upstairs guest bathroom. Whatever. I didn’t want to pay for any upgrades so this is going to be the only vinyl in the house.

Shit.

I feel kind of bad about that now.

Maybe it should be a vinyl free house.

Anyway, vinyl is in back, shower tile is on the bottom (it will be bricked, i.e. each row will be offset 50% from the row below), Formica counter is in the middle, and grout for the shower is the thin thing up on top. Flowery shower curtain and neon bathmat, y’all.

 

If I were on Cribs I would be like 'this will be adjacent to where the magic will happen y'all'.

If I were on Cribs I would be like ‘this will be adjacent to where the magic will happen y’all’.

 

For the non main floor flooring, I chose the grey carpet you see in back (and upgraded the padding cause the internet told me to).

Then for the master bath, we have the big tile in back – brushed porcelain in a color called steel (cause I’m a motherfucking badass obviously), subway tiles that will be horizontal and bricked in ‘artic white’ (significantly less badass, I know), a little leany thing that represents grout color in ‘winter white’ (I will forever think of this as the Song of Ice and Fire shower), and this Formica counter in a pattern that totally photographs as straight up black so whatever, let’s just call it black.

——

So, this is what the inside of my house that is currently a hole in the ground will look like. Unless I change my mind. Which I could. Crockett called my choices ‘manly’ which I take exception to because what I think he means is cool (AGAIN, not sunglasses on a dog cool. In this case I mean blue undertones cool) and that’s very much a pink/blue gender dichotomy that we’ve all internalized. In truth I just hate brown. A lot. And everything natural that isn’t grey is brown, so, there you go. It’s feminine because I’m a woman and I picked it.

I’M SO EXCITED.

 

 

that feeling, you can only say what it is in French

Monday, June 16th, 2014

SHAMELESSLY TITLE STEALING FROM STEPHEN KING.

Oh my god by the way, I was in the same room as Stephen King! And he was on a stage that I myself had been on not that long before! So basically I met Stephen King! (Last September. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, maybe? Or later this week? I would tell you today but…)

I am cranky as fuckity fuck. You know that feeling when you’re reeeeally reeeeally hungry and you can’t even figure out what you want to eat because no food seems like it will be good enough and you just want to punch ALL THE FOOD?

Do you ever feel that way about life?

That’s how I feel right now for literally no good reason.

I don’t actually think the French have a word for that. The Stephen King story of the-shamelessly-stolen-name is about deja vu. It’s about a woman who gradually discovers that life after death is whatever you expected it to be, and she was raised Catholic and expected a near eternal purgatory. Her purgatory is cycling the same half an hour in a plane then a car with her husband, aware that it’s going to happen over and over again and unable to do anything about it. I am obviously not appropriately representing the creepiness of this, because I am not my beloved Stephen King.

Tangent: Mr. Mercedes was good, but I love mysteries and thrillers as well as horror novels. This was more the former two than the latter, except in as much as people are HORROR-ible.

Did I mention that literally nothing happened today to make me act like the whiny toddler that I am currently being? I even think it’s rubbing off on Agnes. She has attacked Maida several times for no reason tonight, and I actually had to separate them (with myself, not with a door or anything).

Is it a full moon? Mercury is in retrograde, I know, but I also don’t know what that means.

I just tried to find a French expression that means what I mean, but instead I came across these gems on the BBC website. Weirdly, they’re making me feel better.

J’ai les glandes (very familiar) French people feel anger swell in them through some glands that they have in the back of their throat.

J’ai les boules ! (very familiar) Lit. I’ve got the balls. Same meaning as j’ai les glandes, which are often also called les boules. This expression can be completed by an appropriate gesture: Hold two imaginary pétanque balls, one in each hand. Then repetitively shake your hands in front of your neck, as if enormously swollen glands were growing out of your throat.

J’ai la haine ! (very familiar) Lit. I’ve got hatred.
I feel hatred within me. Definitely stronger than j’ai les boules. With this expression, it’s impossible for your friends not to take you seriously. They’ll get the message that today is not the right day to mess with you.

Do you think that’s true? That French people have anger glands in their throats that the rest of us don’t? I do not in any way think that that’s true but I think it’s adorable that there’s a saying about it. I think j’ai les boules is where I’m at. I may graduate to j’ai la haine… or I might just go make some dinner. And punch all my food first, of course.