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emmanation

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

Archive for the ‘whoops’ Category

I’d believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning

Thursday, September 4th, 2014

Last night I was coming home and all the spots in front of my building were taken.

I have a garage that’s actually also basically right in front of the building, that I almost never park in because it’s skinny and a gigantic pain in the ass. I have my bike and a desk in there and while technically my car can be wedged in, it MUST go in at a 90 degree angle and it must happen slowly with the occasional wiggle for  a mirror or something.

This is relevant, because in FRONT of the taken spots, a fellow was loading his car. That took what is normally a two-car width passage in front of the garage down by … well, one car width. He wasn’t directly in front of my garage, but he made it necessary for me to swing in before I swung out and I should have waited but.

I didn’t.

I’m not sure if you would consider the rear bumper of my car or the wood frame of the garage the loser in the interaction between the two, but if you include me? I am definitely the loser. The car is basically fine except for that big ass plastic part that’s no longer attached on one end. The garage is about to be repainted and I’m sure that will cover (or at least minimize? I hope?) proof of my sin.

Whereas I have a quote for $770 dollars in my hot sweaty little hand.

Couple of issues. 1) BUYING A HOUSE CAN’T AFFORD IT. 2) Even if I could afford it, can you think of something MORE boring to spend that much money on? If the car wasn’t working I could just be like ‘well it has to be done’, but with this, it looks like something that could be fixed with a liberal application of duct tape and some prayer. $770 buys a lot of duct tape.

Moral? Should there be a moral? The moral is that I should have waited for that perfectly innocent fellow to move his car, but who am I kidding, that was never going to happen. There is no reality in which I would patiently sit in a car for minutes on end while my dogs were upstairs and the radio was probably playing something dumb. The other moral is … everything sucks, my tiny garage can eat a dick.

 

undignified

Monday, September 1st, 2014

I went to karaoke on Saturday night.

First, I did Me and Bobby McGee, because that song is my jam, man. My lady jam.

Then, I was going for that song that goes ‘call me crazy, call me anything you want…’.

WHAT IS THAT SONG?

Because it’s not Crazy by Patsy Cline.

I don’t actually know Crazy by Patsy Cline. I found that out with a microphone in my hand in front of a room full of people.

I ended up calling for volunteers and this nice fellow who always had a least three songs in the queue (he liked to sing, I’m sayin’) jumped up and tried to help, but he didn’t know the fucking song either. I mean he sort of knew it, but it turns out there are parts that I sort of knew too.

It was a little rough, but I survived. The upside of karaoke is that the whole room is either a) hoping they’re next, b) hoping they’re not next, or c) trying to decide what to sing next. I’m not sure anyone but me and Mr Sure-if-there’s-an-0pen-mic-I’m-in even noticed anything.

Still. Not my finest moment.

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.

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.

 

sharing is caring

Thursday, May 29th, 2014

I think it’s about time to share that one comment. The one that STILL RANKLES. Comments in brackets are mine but I tried to keep them to a minimum.

Emma,

I don’t normally read your blog for the same reason I don’t watch reality tv. Your vanity and pretension are so absurdly high that they almost appear scripted. [I cannot overstate how much I love that part.] I get that that is somewhat the point of your blog, but I’ve met you in person and sadly life imitates art way too closely. One of your other readers [implying that people all over the place are talking about my blog would only work if I didn’t know there’s like ten awesome people who read it and two are related to me – I think our critic here had me in RSSpointed me to this post and I just had to comment.

A few points: Since you ramble it was difficult to pin down your main argument [the post this comment was on is here but was regarding my irritation with myself for taking a health test at work when I didn’t necessarily agree it was something that should be offered, and it was absolutely rambley- good call mean stranger], but it seems you are mostly concerned with invasion of your privacy, specifically your weight and cholesterol levels. First of all, understand that privacy is already lost when you blog indiscriminately about every little thing that upsets you on the internet. Now, you almost [so closedid the right thing and accepted responsibility: that your own greed for the princely [of or held by a princesum of 150 dollars led you to an embarrassing [embarrassed and irritated are not synonyms] couple of minutes at a health screening (295? Yikes, don’t make holiday plans!) [imminent death to me ahahahah fuck you]. But it is imbalanced by your diatribe about ulterior motives and intrusive company policies. While it is possible the company benefits monetarily from hosting health screenings, you have only suspicions, not facts. Why is money an acceptable excuse for you ($150), but not your company (probably more than $150?) I guess if you can cave, so can ‘Big Brother,’ yes? [All of this is a way of saying ‘I don’t agree with you’. I’m not sure I agree with myself either. But you didn’t have to be a dick about it.]

A couple other laughable points: The health screening was in the morning and you posted this before close of business the same day [This is true. I wrote the post and fired it off at lunch]. Safe to assume you aren’t always “doing your damn job.” It’s also known you routinely work from home and have others do your work by proxy. So please, don’t complain about your company’s attitude toward your attendance. [The work by proxy thing? I have no idea. I worked from home when allowed which wasn’t very often. Someone was grinding a confusing axe that I wasn’t aware existed.]

[Most interesting thing to note with regard to the preceding paragraph regarding my posting from work? The comment was posted at 9:08 am on the weekday following my post and is admittedly by a coworker. Plus I’m not an idiot (read: I asked someone how to do this) and I looked at the source IP address and found that it came from my office building. How long did this damn thing take to write, huh, meanie-pants??]

Also, if you’re your father’s daughter, shouldn’t you blame him and not your arteries? Sounds like this bad news was nothing you shouldn’t have known already.

You. Spoiled. Brat. [The opening three sentences are my favorite part, but this is a close second.]

Yours truly, A critic

I suspect I know who this was, honestly. Well, one of two or three people. I don’t work with any of them anymore. Upside.