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emmanation

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Archive for the ‘really? REALLY?’ Category

cursed

Thursday, July 6th, 2017

Oh hai I got a new tattoo.

So did my mom – same thing, opposite arm.

Our reasons were manyfold (not a real word probably? But didn’t get spellchecked plus language is a constantly evolving medium and anything’s a word if you get enough children to clap while you say it.)

First, I wanted a tattoo. I was just feeling that itch. I wanted something major, and I also wanted something simple. I’m a big fan of words and I was ready to commit to ‘patience’ along my collarbone, but … things went a different direction. Obviously.

Second, my mom is going to be 70 in four years, and she’s going to be fully covered in tattoos by the time that happens (citation needed).

Third, she and I had actually discussed this after my grandfather passed away eight years ago, and then again after we lost my grandma, and somehow it just seemed like time. We had only two blurry pictures of what we wanted, but we took it to an artist I’ve used before and he squinted out his best interpretation.

Image-1 (2)

Here’s the deal as I understand it. (Grandma and Grandpa, if you’re fact checking from the afterlife then … I’m sorry but probably you should have told me the story yourselves instead of trusting the telephone game that is your twelve children to tell it for you.)

They got married when my Irish grandma was a mere babe (in more ways than one *wink* (ew)) and my grandpa was in the Air Force (or the US Army Air Forces, at the time, because there wasn’t an Air Force yet). He’d been stationed in Egypt and she went back with him after the wedding, and he bought her the necklace you see above from a dealer in Egypt named Maguid Sameda. I know this because I’ve got a terrible photo of the paperwork Sameda gave my grandfather on purchase. Here’s what it says, medium (it’s an old school form so some is printed and some is handwritten in a brutal script, I’ve transcribed it as well as possible):

I the undersigned, Maguid Sameda, guarantee that the necklace with the cat of goddess Isis sold by me to Mr L W P- (ed: L Wildman!) on 11 (September?) 1943 is Genuine.

The object is of the 16th Dynasty BC 1600.

Found at the (?) of the (?, ?) of queen (?), 1943, and was added to my collection of antiquities on 1943.

Interpretation of art or heliographic inscription

The cat represents Goddess Isis Goddess of love who is worshipped by the greeks as venus There is a great resemblance in Cat and a woman for that they made the Cat her sacred animal

This guarantee is given to ensure that the above described object can be examined at any of the world Museums.

No 1 Fouad Street, Maguid Sameda, Egyptian Museum License No 108

So, my original understanding of the story was that at some point our family had been like ‘heeeeeyyyy is this a real thing from 3600 years ago orrr…..?’ and shown it to someone, but I think we actually have just been trusting this paperwork. Which is not unreasonable, because it turns out that a huge amount of Egyptian antiquities that are currently totally legit have passed through Maguid Sameda’s hands. (Ex: this wacky statue and this codex, among many others.)

Crucially, also, this relief from the tomb of Akhtihotep.

Tomb.

So, the first word that I couldn’t identify above looked sort of like nelly. Or … belly. Rally? Then there was something about a table, maybe? Here:

the words

The first word starts with a … n? W? Does anyone see something I don’t? It’s DEFINITELY NOT TOMB, though, right?

I mean, here’s the thing.

If this came from the tomb of some queen …. probably I shouldn’t have tattooed it into my skin. I don’t believe in curses, per se, but also I 100% believe in curses. My family’s been ok, so far (although, gruesomely, husbands of daughters actually  don’t have the best survival rate now that I think of it?) but what if there’s something about ink that really kicks it into high gear?

Seriously, what’s that first word.

Also, I don’t know where the necklace is so please don’t report me to the Egyptian museum. If I ever inherit it, I’ll send it over immediately for a promise of a curse free existence. Promise.

 

twenty minutes

Tuesday, November 22nd, 2016

I’m still thinking about David Blaine. I have a theory.

So, his wacky physical stuff can be explained by him being disciplined and willing to push his body farther than any normal person ever would. Like, he trained himself to hold his breath for seventeen minutes or some equally ridiculous shit. On the Netflix special, Crockett and I saw him teach himself to drink gallons of water, then kerosene, then spit them in reverse order onto an open flame.

Basically, physically he makes very poor choices but some of them look neat.

The other thing he does all the time, though, I am stymied! Or was, until I came up with my foolproof theory. The thing I’m talking about is the audience participation thing. He’ll have someone sign a card, then that same card will turn up in that person’s inner pocket. He’ll have someone think a name, and then that name will appear on the inside of the window of the store they’re standing in front of.

There’s only one solution.

He can see, like, twenty minutes or so into the future.

Think about it. It’s not really far enough to do much useful, and he doesn’t quite seem like the selfless type anyway. I mean, COULD he sit in the ICU and tell doctors when someone is pre-crash? Sure, but how would that bring in the ladies? Could he travel with SWAT teams and tell them when a situation is going to go south based on their current course of action? Totally, but SWAT members make, what, like high five figures? That ain’t Vegas money.

Short of googling how those tricks are done (which I have no interest in doing because it’s likely to be either technically complicated or prosaic and I’m not into that), this is the only explanation.

Right?

*Pats self on back*

oooookabob

Tuesday, November 15th, 2016

I’m sore.

Very sore.

FROM YOGA.

The fact that I’m so surprised says one of two things about me. A) I’ve been dramatically underestimating yoga-ites and the workout they get for quite some time, or B) I’m a gigantic baby with spaghetti for muscles and a minimal pain tolerance.

I’m going again tomorrow night, because either way, it’s a much better workout than I expected.

Yoga clothes are cute, right?

admire with me, would you

Wednesday, November 9th, 2016

This dress:

cewooldress

It is black. For mourning.

It’s made of wool and linen. Natural fibers that come from the earth, and probably won’t be available in ten years (a week) because someone doesn’t believe in global warming and wants us to not pass go and go straight to Mad Max land.

It’s got thumb holes for coziness, which is an excellent secret way to feel like one is wrapping oneself up in a blanket on the couch while still being out in the world.

In short, it’s the post-Hillary dress.

The post-Trump outfit OBVIOUSLY looked like this, in case you’re wondering:

burgandysuit

 

Ok, off to drink myself into oblivion.

(Not really, but I have said that several times today. Out loud. And half meant it.)

(Yes, this whole thing was dramatic but not entirely kidding because WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED to a day I was so, so excited about? I can’t write about it, I don’t have anything to say that isn’t being said by wiser minds all over the internet.)

I’m the villain in my own story

Wednesday, November 2nd, 2016

I worked from home today! It was super (mostly).

The non-super part was calling into a meeting. I was the only one on the phone and the project team is a group of raucous, funny as shit women, and the upshot was that they talked really fast and had a lot of fun and the most I was able to interject was a laugh here and there. I likely wouldn’t have had a lot to contribute on today’s particular topic anyway, but I felt left out and like everyone thought it was lame I wasn’t there.

Important point: my company is ‘retaining great people’ and officially instituted both a work from home program and gave us unlimited* vacation next year, so being at home was sanctioned and scheduled. I am being a good employee and taking advantage of dog-hanging-out-with related perks at the same time, in other words. (So is about half my team, we each take one different day through the week.)

Probably no one thought it was lame, in truth. Probably people don’t think about where other people are at all, really? But that’s the kind of thing I always worry about. Like, someone is secretly compiling a dossier of just very slightly disappointing things I’ve done at work and one day I’ll come in and they’ll hand me a box and a list? Two glasses of wine instead of one at the work happy hour, recommended too many people for employment here, actually used the work at home policy, didn’t write an appropriately heartfelt/formal/? thank you note for the incredibly generous wedding gifts … Those are not firing offenses, and I don’t really think they are. I don’t. But also I fret, sometimes.

Today a friend from another company was telling me about two men she works with (that I know personally). I won’t say exactly what’s going on with them, but in essence they’re treating normal working hours and manager feedback like suggestions. No, not even suggestions really. It’s like they’re seniors and they’ve taken their finals, but that is not actually true!! They are still employed! And have duties! Work, doing work, actually turning out the work you’re paid for – ignoring that stuff is what gets people fired! And these guys do not worry at all apparently?! They’re definitely not looking elsewhere, they’re long timers at that company, they just … don’t fret.

It makes me very angry. Because I still feel like I should write another, better, thank you note. I need some of that not fretting**, I guess. And they could use more.

* with manager approval
** do I mean Xanax?