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emmanation

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

Archive for August, 2014

cow-what now?

Sunday, August 24th, 2014

There are cows outside my apartment (if you’re friends with me on facebook or instagram this comes as no surprise to you, because I’m sort of obsessed with them, and Aggie is too, and I’m more than sort of obsessed with how obsessed Agnes is with them).

Tonight the cows are being especially awesome.

First, I think some of them have penises, which confuses me because … I am not a farmer and I sort of thought whenever you saw a bunch of cows in a field they were ladies. Perhaps some of them just have penis shaped milk jugs? It’s unclear. I tried to look it up but when the ‘how to’ guide used the words polled and homed like that was a thing everyone should know I moved on.  Anyway, despite the possible penis sighting I’m going to pretend they’re all of the lady persuasion.

Second, many of them are very unladylike and it’s fascinating.

My two favorites are:

  • The yeller! I’ve named her Audrey II, for reasons that are unclear even to me. The original Audrey II was pretty loud, I guess? So when I first went outside she was mooing as loudly as possible while walking away from all her friends. They have a pretty big field, and tonight they’re all in the section closest to me. Audrey II went to the opposite corner and hollered the whole way there. I sort of thought she was lost or confused, but then she turned around and came back and didn’t shut up. When she hit the group again, she took a very large cow poo and stopped with the mooing for a second, but then started up again. No idea what she’s complaining about but it sounds important and I respect her dedication to being heard. She did get a headbutt to the side (that failed to shut her up) when she got a little too close to…
  • The meanie. I’ve named her Edna, because that’s a serious business name for a serious business cow. She’s brown and the biggest and she’s closest to the path. She’s also not taking any shit from anybody. She headbutted Audrey II because … I don’t know, and also another black one because I don’t know. She’s one of three brown cows, and in writing this out I’m starting to suspect that she’s a little racist. Perhaps she’s not one of my favorites.
  • Actual second favorite: the babies. BABY COWS. They’re definitely bigger than me, but they’re new this year and I’ve been watching them grow. I don’t know what they did today, but it must have been hard because for dinner they all laid down in the grass and took bites while fully prone. I swear I saw one of them chew while sleeping.

It’s a thrilling life I lead here, y’all.

awww-ka-ward

Friday, August 22nd, 2014

Tonight after work I decided to stop and get a beer at a new brewery that’s not that far from home. I was alone, but Crockett used to stop for drinks by himself a lot and he seemed to gain a lot of friends out of it, so I figured what’s the worst that could happen. I’d spend half an hour, drink one beer, and then go home to my sweet little puppy faces.

So I get my beer and I’m wandering around trying to decide where to sit. I was originally thinking I would sit on the patio, but the furniture looked recently stained and I came from work in my very whitest of white skirts, so I hopped on a stool inside at the opposite end of an eight top from a guy with a computer. When I did it, I loosely gestured to the other seats to say ‘is it ok if I sit here’ and he said “Oh, yeah, go ahead. I don’t have this many friends. I really only have one friend.”

I smiled and looked at my phone because what? What do I do with that? Offer condolences?

His (only?) friend joined him and it turned out they are in a band, a fact I learned quickly because I heard them pitch it to the owner/booker/person who talks to bands at the brewery as ‘we do Lady Gaga with a banjo’. Apparently the owner/booker/brewery person thought that sounded swell, because they all went into a back room and Mr One Friend and his one friend left their beers on the table.

I don’t think many women would leave beers unattended like that, but that does not excuse what came next.

When Mr One Friend came back, he picked up his beer and looked right at me, and because I am a not funny dummy, I said ‘some woman came by and dropped a pill in there. That’s ok, right?’

I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THAT CAME FROM. He thought it was funny.

Then he came over and I had to talk to him and his one friend for the ten minutes it took me to finish my beer.

Turns out the band also does Marilyn Manson with a banjo, though, so at least I found that out.

walls shmalls

Thursday, August 21st, 2014

The salesperson for my house (it’s weird that I basically bought my house like out of a mall, right? Like, not from a person but from a company that has a salesperson?) says it’s her instinct that it’s not going to be done on it’s original completion date.

Apparently we’re in something of a super duper build party on the Front Range right now. There aren’t enough people who know how to do certain things, like … um, build houses. I don’t know, I’m not one of those people so that’s as granular as I can get. The deal is, framing, then roofing, then windows and exterior, then plumbing and electrical, then drywall and finishing.

I know that seems like a lot, but…

IMG_0380

Doesn’t it kind of look done? Right??

No, obviously not done. I’m sure there are nails laying around, and I would probably get a lot of splinters, but … it’s so close! It’s an actual structure. It’s no longer a hole in the ground. Those are my windows! I mean, does a window really need glass? Technically? (Google says yes: “an opening in the wall or roof of a building or vehicle that is fitted with glass or other transparent material in a frame to admit light or air and allow people to see out”. I call bullshit.)

All I’m saying is that the original proposed completion date is 70 whole days away. It’s only been 78 days since I signed the contract in the first place, and definitely fewer than 70 since they broke ground. In 70 days this will be a livable structure. Will it have the floors and stuff I picked out? Perhaps not, but, you know. Simplicity is good.

Basically, I’m planning on moving in in 70 days whether they like it or not.

 

brace yourselves, this is going to hurt

Wednesday, August 20th, 2014

This is the worst breakup I’ve ever had and I’m not doing a very good job with it, you guys. Like, if it were a job, I absolutely would have been fired. If it were a relationship, I would have been dumped. Oh, wait.

So I have some things that I’m working on to try and help myself get and be better about the whole fucking mess, and they are serious, but I also thought it wouldn’t hurt to remind myself of things that hurt before that are now just things that I write about on the internet. As in, some day, in some context, this whole thing will be something that I write about on the internet. Hopefully.

In the order which they occur to me, rather than most to least painful or vice versa:

  1. In high school Andrew, this ridiculously tall fellow who was a grade below me (but my actual age), didn’t want to be my boyfriend even though we totally KISSED ON THE STAIRS. Like, laying down. That shit hurt my back like you would not believe. I don’t remember how I found out he didn’t want to be my boyfriend. I might have asked. I do remember someone telling me that he liked Courtney better and that I shouldn’t worry about it because she was ‘a dog’. That was the first time I’d heard that in the context of calling someone ugly, and I was embarrassed because I thought Courtney was really pretty. I cried a lot. (We’re going to let this story stand in for Brady and Jason and whatever other dumbass boy didn’t want what I wanted when I wanted it too (because he was a person with his own needs etc but it hurt me at the time and that’s what this post is about OK GOD), because if we didn’t this would just be a list of boys who I thought broke my heart at the time). Also, Andrew smelled like dampness, and not in a good way (if smelling like dampness in a good way is a thing that is possible, I’m not really clear on that).
  2. When I was a sophomore (high school theme, I know), Rose got the role of Rosie in Bye Bye Birdie instead of me. You know how many musicals have altos as leads? Like, two. Bye Bye Birdie is one of them, and she’s a co-female lead, but still. I did end up getting to sing a song at a little metal cafe table while wearing a poodle skirt with several of my best friends.

    In the middle. In case there was any confusing between me and the blonds and the redhead.

    In the middle. In case there was any confusion between me and the blonds and the redhead. We’re all wearing We Love You Conrad pins.

  3. I was in science class and Jessica called me a cunt. I don’t remember why but it was certainly the first time I’d heard that word out loud, and I was simultaneously mortified and heartbroken. Also, she was one of FOUR Jessicas in my class, and I don’t really remember which one she was. I might be facebook friends with her now? It’s not clear. Too many Jessicas.
  4. When I finished my first book (she says casually while the third languishes, ignored, in a window behind where she’s currently typing), I submitted it to the agents of my five favorite authors. Form rejection letters, all around. That is a thing that happens to writers, but goddamn that shit hurt. Then, instead of trying harder, I published it on amazon and felt better. Finding agents that were not already representing world class authors was too hard.
  5. That one review on amazon. I would link to it, but that would require me to go read my reviews and after that one review I’m never going to do that ever again. It’s funny now, sure, that she was so upset about all of the drinking in a book that is literally NAMED CORKED AND HAS A PICTURE OF A WINE BOTTLE ON THE COVER, but the fact that I’m yelling actually maybe seems like it’s not funny. Nope, not funny. Not upset about it anymore either, though.
  6. I made 300 cupcakes for a wedding, the only time I had ever made that many outside of a professional bakery setting, and it was 95 degrees and they did not look good by the time the wedding started. I took the money anyway and felt nauseous every time I thought about it for several years. The cupcakes didn’t end up in any of the photos.

See? And that’s not the serious things. That’s not that time I (and several doctors) thought I might have had MS (didn’t). It’s not the loss of Cloey, or my grandma. And I don’t cry (very often) about those things anymore either, right?

Oh! I forgot one. My best friend’s boyfriend, on whom I had a ridiculous thirteen year old crush i.e. I was pretty sure that he was my future husband and the only man I would ever love and the only person who would ever truly understand me, tried to kiss me but for reasons that are unclear we were laying in a pile of hay in a parking lot (Nederland is weird, y’all) and I was surprised and rolled down and hit my elbow and then tried to climb back up to kiss him but I couldn’t find my footing and I pulled down like half the pile. We never got to kiss. When you’re thirteen, that shit is life ending.

So. This is not those things. But this is a thing that will be ok, eventually. And then I will write about it on the internet.

day to night to weekend to shoes to arg

Sunday, August 17th, 2014

First, let’s get this out there. I visit too many clothing sites too regularly. I love my wardrobe enough to track it, but I have a hard time not seeing what sales are going on. Every day.

So, there’s a thing that women do when reviewing clothes. I don’t know if men do it, because I don’t shop for men’s clothes online, so maybe it’s out there for y’all too.

That thing? Is to make completely banal, predictable recommendations regarding the wearing of a certain garment. I’m going to give you an actual example from the review of a dress I was considering (copied exactly so that last ‘your’ is all her).

Madewell:

You can wear it a work with a cardigan around your neck and a pair of high heels and still look professional, or just going out to run errands with a pair of sandals or dress it up at night with a big bangle bracelet and a clutch if your going out to dinner or hanging with friends.

What’s so wrong this, you ask? This woman is trying to be helpful, you say?

Well to you I say NO. COMMENTS ARE NOT FOR STYLING SUGGESTIONS. Advertising copy is for styling suggestions. Catalog pictures and fashion blogs are for styling suggestions. Your friends are for styling suggestions. Stacie from Tracy, CA (actual name and location of above commenter), might be wildly stylish, I know. But I don’t know that for sure, and if she were suggesting something outside the box I wouldn’t have any way of knowing how much weight to give it.

More importantly, these comments to which I refer are literally never, ever, ever outside the box. No one ever says, ‘oh this dress ran a little short so I put it over a mini skirt that I am helpfully linking to and it was the cutest outfit ever’. Everyone always says some variation of ‘this piece of clothing is good for this situation wearing this accessory that always belongs in this situation OR that situation while wearing that accessory that always belongs in that situation’.

For example:

  • You can wear this shirt to work tucked into slacks or dark denim and then to the farmers market on the weekends with a cute tote.
  • This skirt is perfect for going out on the town with your highest heels but you could also wear it to a baby shower with wedges and pearls.
  • I bought this necklace to wear to a summer wedding with a low cut dress but I also find it’s perfect when I’m doing laundry naked.

I may have gone overboard with that last one.

The inevitable one, though, is the dress that goes from work with pumps to night with heels/weekend with flats.

I promise, guys, not new information.

Her’s what we want from online reviewers. Feel free to copy and paste.

I weigh ___. I am _ feet, _ inches tall. I have/do not have big/small/weird boobs/shoulders/butt. I usually wear size ___ at ___ (popular store) (can sub this for height and weight) and it fits baggy/tight/as pictured on the model. The item of clothing I’m reviewing was too small/big/loose/tight/short/long/none of the above. It was appropriate for winter/summer/spring/fall in (I just seriously considered listing out all of the state abbreviations, that’s how dedicated I am to this idea, but I’m not going to do it because I don’t actually know all the states (if you think you do try it and get back to me (if you sing the animaniacs song it counts but is sort of violating the spirit of the thing))).

Boom.

No styling suggestions necessary.