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emmanation

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Archive for the ‘writing while drinking’ Category

I’m with her

Monday, November 7th, 2016

I always have been. I thought she was a better choice than Obama approximately 1000 years ago. I might have been wrong, since the Obama’s administration has been pretty fucking solid, but she might have had the same opportunities and made the same choices.

I’m so, so scared. I mentioned I’ve been crying, right? About politics? Endlessly? The Rachel Bloom video makes me cry. The FiveThirtyEight election forecast page makes me cry. Our Colorado end of life proposition makes me sob like a bad actress in a bad romantic comedy (that is to say, at an unbelievable level).

I’m having a hard time mustering up a lot of concern for most of my local initiatives, honestly, and it’s probably like that in a lot of places. I did research and vote all of them (except the tax ones, I mostly just vote yes when they ask if I want to pay more taxes (<- not a joke)), but I’ve forgotten about most but 106 (end of life). Oh, and the single-payer healthcare thing. That’ll be interesting. And the minimum wage hike, actually? Ok, fine, I’m concerned about all of these things (and in favor of them).

But mostly I’m concerned that a woman who should be in the middle of a trailblazing, history making, well deserved run for the presidency is actually surrounded by the still burning dumpster fire remains of our national political process.

How did we get here? How did we as a country land in a place where a man who is openly misogynist and racist as the TIP OF HIS TERRIBLE ROTTEN ICEBERG is being lauded, if even if mostly in small but loud communities? It doesn’t look like he’s going to win, but, you know. Brexit. Polling error. A 1/3 chance of Hillary losing to him (as of this writing) is about twice her odds of losing Russian roulette, if she decided to go that way.

Anyway. I’d be with her no matter what. This whole ‘it’ll be politics as usual’ complaint is fucking fine, especially if those politics are the ones we’ve had for the last eight years. But considering her opponent is a man who is actively making the world worse just by opening his mouth in public

Holy wow am I with her.

 

you have reached your final destination

Friday, August 12th, 2016

Crockett got on a airplane without me yesterday. He’s now in the UP for family love and various two-wheeled-foot-powered shenanigans.

(Did I mention he did very well in a 68 mile mountain bike race at NINE THOUSAND FEET recently? I didn’t?? What kind of proud pre-wife am I, honestly?)

Maybe ten minutes into his flight, he started smelling smoke.

Then chicken.

Then the pilot turned the plane around and landed back in Denver because some birds had met an unfortunate end and the plane needed to be poked and prodded before it could be allowed to continue on to it’s final destination. It was fine, he’s where he needed to be, and Southwest has graciously credited him back part of his purchase price without him even asking. All around, it could have gone considerably worse.

Which leads me, in a round about way, to the very fine Final Destination films. I cannot be the only one who thinks of them every time I’m in a airport bathroom and I notice music being piped in, can I? I mean, it’s never John Denver (that I’ve noticed), but still – every damn time. Don’t even get me started on when I see a truck with logs in the back on the highway.

Final Destination: Plane crash. Not birds. Electrical failure? I’ve seen it 10000 times and the fact that I don’t know what the reason for the crash is means that it’s v v unimportant. The best death sequence, hands down, is the teacher when everything in her house is trying to kill her like they’re the cartoons from Beauty and the Beast except instead of cleanliness they’re focused on fate and nothing but sweet, deadly fate.

Final Destination 2: Enormous car crash on the highway, started by logs falling off the back of a big ol’ trucks. Wait, not logs. Trees. Redwoods, basically. The survivor from the first film teaches everyone there is no ‘safe’, there is only paranoid and doomed.

Final Destination 3: I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS ONE. Trust me, I’m rectifying that wrong as I type these words. Roller coaster malfunction, in case you’ve sadly missed it as well.

The Final Destination: Basically a NASCAR crash that sends deadly detritus into the stands. I’ve seen it but remember nothing. Based on the name, I think they expected this would be last. Twas not to be.

Final Destination 5: Bridge collapse! Everyone loves a bridge collapse. I think I’m mixing this up in my head with The Mothman Prophecies.

It’s been five years since that last one, so I’m thinking Final Furious 7 … no, wait. Final Destination 7 should be any day now. In case they think they’ve played out ‘crashes’ (spoiler, they mostly have), I’ve got some ideas for them:

  • Surfing accident – let’s get Kate Bosworth acting AND surfing again (<3 you 4ever Blue Crush)
  • Food poisoning – sure, the premonition would have to be hours long at a minimum, but it’d be a fun new technique! Maybe it’s on a cruise ship, and Kate Bosworth can be the body boarding instructor!
  • Zoo accident – lions? Gorillas? Seaworld disaster? So many choices, so many opportunities for Kate Bosworth to be an animal trainer.

I guess what I’m saying is a) Crockett is super duper, b) I love these movies, and c) I have surprisingly strong feelings about Kate Bosworth’s current underutilization in fine American cinema.

 

let’s drink and watch: The Bachelor Episode 1

Friday, January 8th, 2016

There are some women down the hall from me at work, and they asked if I wanted to join a Bachelor bracket with them. I dig my immediate team, but … also I would like some super fun lady friends. So, for the very first time, I am watching the Bachelor. Ben (he himself) is from Denver, who knew. Anyway, I have sparkling wine and I paid Hulu extra monies so I wouldn’t have to watch commercials which REALLY works out in a show like this. Let’s go, people. 

Caila knew she had to dump her man after seeing ben on the bachelorette WHAT. We are off to a these-are-not-reasonable-people start.

Jubilee says ‘I’m on a mission to win Ben’s heart’ and she obviously thought it was the dumbest thing to say in the world. I’m guessing she was picturing her military friends watching this and internally cringing.
No one, Mandi. No one wants to be like everybody else. You’re SO UNIQUE, no one else has ever even wondered who wants to be like everyone else.
TWINS EVIL. Watch a horror movie sometime, Ben.
Wtf is a chicken enthusiast and why do you refer to them as your human babies, Tiara, do you know what humans are?
Ok I know I’ve had 20 chances to find this out, but do they all say something cheesy when they get out of the limo?
Oh a dick joke, that is super risky. That’d be me, and I’d currently be like ‘what the fuck was I thinking?’
Girl who didn’t tell him your name, he’s now thinking of you as ‘online stalker’, so .. whoops.
And also speak a language that Ben knows, it’s weird to force someone to not understand you.
DON’T TALK ABOUT THE OTHER GIRLS BOOBS oh my god I’m not going to be able to watch this show am I.
Ben was just visibly aroused by the twins which, chill your baloney, pony (which is something I say to Deaner when he’s getting all worked up, it’s not a dick reference)
MINIPONY. Awww, bye bye Lil Sebastian.
It’s weird how much I expected Ben to be freaked out by the woman who brought a save the date card. He’s literally there to find a wife. The patriarchy is in maaaaah head.
Oh I read about this host guy! He’s recently divorced and also looking for love, I guess? I wonder if he gets to chat with the ladies when Ben is otherwise engaged – he looks like he’s in his forties or fifties though so perhaps young women aren’t his thing.
I wanna be friends with Lace. I feel like that means she’s going to get kicked off.
BEN IS CALLING HIS DAD. If true, man, hugs to that guy. If staged, hugs to whoever had this idea, because it’s goddamn adorable.

If you quit your job to go on the Bachelor, you’re effectively saying that being his wife will be your job. Maybe he’s into that, maybe he ain’t, but … it doesn’t really bode well for thinking through your choices, maybe? Or maybe her job was fucking terrible, we don’t know her life. (Edited to add, she got the first rose so perhaps he’s into hiring a wifey.)

Oh Laces (which is what I would call Lace if we were friends), I think you maybe need to think about dating somewhere that isn’t TV. This doesn’t seem to be the best thing for your stability. Not that I think you’re unstable, just, stuff is hard, and processing it on TV seems even harder. Or you’re a little drunk? Or possibly both.
I wish the website had said that whats-er-face liked to be called Red Velvet. I would have picked my bracket differently. (Full disclosure, I don’t remember who was in my bracket or where, I’ll have to check tomorrow.)
Whoever had Ben call his dad also just suggested he say these women are out of his league. I hope that person is being well paid (or is Ben, I guess).
Giving out this many roses takes many times.
Crockett just got home and is asking me a lot of questions that are super good that I don’t know the answer to. Like, have there been twins before?
Laurens, there are four of you. One of you is going home.
LACES HONEY you got a rose.
Crockett thinks it’s for the best that Red Velvet did not get a rose, since Ben would just be guaranteeing himself a moment where he holds her hand as she dies of melanoma. Crockett is mean but also funny.
Success rate: I have no idea. I think I might have called one of the cancelled ladies, maybe, I’ll check tomorrow. Only …. twenty-four episodes to go? I have no idea. This is going to be awesome.
*Those two women who showed up in the middle and upset everyone are a mystery to me and I have no comment.

shut up and dance

Wednesday, September 30th, 2015

I started a post about Pinterest and cultural appropriation like, half an hour ago, and it’s going nowhere. Tomorrow. Or, you know, soon.

So let’s talk about amazing songs instead, huh? Cause earlier tonight an excellent friend of mine who has been on the blog whose nickname I cannot quite conjure up at the mo’ finally quit the company that we both used to work at, and it’s been a long time coming, and he had one of those ‘hey congrats man!!!’ happy hours where if you’re an ex-employee you know a lot of faces and many fewer names and you drink a fair amount and answer the so-what-are-you-up-to-now questions as quickly as possible because you’re going to lose them after the word statistician anyway. That kind of happy hour makes me want to listen to songs.

So.

Nathaniel Rateliff and the Nightsweats:

Elle King:

I’m not going to type the name of this band because I find it stupid:

Each amazing, yes no maybe?

yes privilege I know

Monday, January 26th, 2015

I had a really nice iPhone 5s and I broke it.

Well, clarification, I had a normal 5s. There was nothing particularly nice about it except that all 5s’s are nice. Either way, I broke it. I was at The Post with a darlin friend and I held it up and somehow (cough*beers*cough) I dropped it from the barstool I was sitting on flat onto the concrete patio floor below. The screen shattered. It was an ugly moment. I may have blamed the girlfriend I was with because she may have asked to see the phone – that part is unclear and has likely been exaggerated in my head every time I looked at my shattered screen, but who can say for sure?

I still have that 5s but it is no longer really nice. Or normal. See, I thought it was a good idea to replace the screen myself. Which, to be fair, with my coworker’s help, it totally was. It costs upwards of $175 to get the screen replaced on a 5s by a professional, did you guys know that? Possibly because of the fingerprint thing? Dunno. You can buy a screen, and the tiny screwdriver that apparently exists for no purpose other than removing iPhone screen screws, for like $50, and there are instructions online.

It turns out that the instructions leave a lot to be desired and the tiny screws that are removed by the tiny screwdriver are very easily lost. My very kind coworker and I replaced the screen really adequately! We used my tiny fingers to hold things in place and her smart fingers to actually do the work and it was an excellent division of labor. No matter what we tried, though, we couldn’t get the screen to load afterwards. I took the phone to a professional who shifted one tiny thing, told me I was super close, didn’t charge me, and handed me a functional phone.

A functional phone missing a single screw. A screw that I’d taken out and put somewhere for safekeeping. Somewhere so safe I still haven’t found it.

Turns out it was an important screw.

This is a very long way of telling you that I HAVE A NEW PHONE. It’s a 6 and it’s very pretty and my tiny fingers will perhaps eventually get used to the size?  However, I’m thinking of making a rule that I’m not allowed to touch the phone at bars. At least while I’m drinking? Or over concrete floors? The details are still up in the air, I’m open to suggestions.

Please be aware that if you currently receive intermittent hilarious texts from me after 8 pm on Friday or Saturday nights, any rule you put in place may curtail that.