Category Archives: money to burn (apparently)

let them sleep, let them stay sleeping

Tomorrow will take us two weeks into the new year and the new decade. Let’s see how I’m doing with my resolutions so far, shall we?

1) Don’t get sick.

So far, so good. If you don’t count the tailbone that may or may not be broken (stupid motherfucking tailbone). I’m laying on my stomach writing this and haven’t sat up all day, if that gives you any indication of my current comfort level.

I was in so much pain last night that I let Jessica, one of my derby dearhearts, put Icy Hot patches on my butt for me. On my actual butt. I’m pretty sure she saw more than she wanted to, but that’s what derby sisters are for.

2) Stop obsessing over my damn hair.

Ah ha -hahha ha. Ha. Yeah, not.

Lookithowcutethisis!!

3) Stop buying non-consumables.

Done.

Well, except for these... but trust me, my butt has declared padded shorts a necessity.

And these... because it's my BIRTHDAY and I want them ok shutupaboutitalready.

So… maybe not so good. I have a whole year to get it right.

4) I will blog a minimum of five days a week.

I’ve been rockin that one like a rocking rock climber.

5) I will work on building strong friendships with women who want the same thing.

See above re: Jessica putting patches on my butt and below re: all the lovely ladies in the picture.

6) I will perfect a smile that I don’t mind being photographed.

I think maybe it’s just about looking happy without trying too hard. I’m getting there.

7) I will be a grown up in the ways that matter, and put off being a grown up for as long as possible in the ways that don’t.

This one is baby steps, every day. I’m doing ok though. YAY me.

There you go. Two weeks in and I give myself a C+. No, a B-. Because it’s the week of my birthday and I can.

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angels in the architecture

You may remember I shared my Christmas list some time ago (before I discovered the miracle that is Stiletto Spy School, of course). Since I felt it was appropriate to share my list of desires with all you lovely readers, I’m sure you’re dying to know what I actually got. Rest assured, it is nothing but gigantic piles of awesomeness.

From the boy. This is Angel Boy, by Jeremy Charles Burns. I have loved this painting since I first saw it, and apparently the boy was paying attention (three gold stars). It's now hanging at the foot of my bed.

Street Fight, from my genius mother. This is not a painting I requested, just one that she knew I'd love - and she hit the nail on the head. With a force I wouldn't have expected from such a tiny lady.

My dad got me Derek Shepherd, because he's a bloody genius. (Ok fine he got me the Grey's Season 2 DVD - but why quibble over details?)

My father also got me this super-nice-teeny-tiny-two-spout All-Clad saucepan. All-Clad calls it a butter warmer - they must know I'll be using it to melt butter to pour over Derek Shepherd's naked bod... wait, what was I talking about? I've already used it to make hot cocoa. Three times.

Gift from my family of the heart. Very similar to the picture except purpler. Which is totally a word.

Me enjoying the quite lovely sweater I received from the boy's parents. And enjoying some Irish Coffee.

There was of course more. There were books and cookies and laughter and honestly, if the tiniest sprinter had been in town, it would have been the best Christmas ever. It was as close as a girl can hope for, anyway.

Merry Christmas 09, loves. Soon I’ll have to start on my best of the year/decade lists, because heaven forbid I be the only one who doesn’t create them ad infinitum, you know?

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Ingenues with dark glasses

In my family, we make Christmas lists. They aren’t always honored, but they’re exceptionally helpful for a family in which three people bike and one can’t tell a Schwinn from a Bianchi, in which two read obsessively and two are lucky to find one book a year that holds their interest, and in which three eat dairy, one(ish) eats meat, and one eats none of the above.

I was the first to send out my list, although I have a sneaking suspicion that the tiniest sprinter has been working on his for awhile and is just waiting for the key time to distribute it – possibly after he next falls off his bicycle or talks about his migrating facial implants and we all feel bad for him. I wasn’t going to publish mine here because I thought there would be nothing interesting about it – and then I realized, I’m a blogger. I talk about uninteresting shit every single day (especially during NaBloPoMo) so there is really no valid reason to stop now.

So, here’s what I requested from my family.

1) A sewing machine. As I may have mentioned a bagizilllion times, I’m not the world’s tallest girl. That goes with me not having the longest arms and legs, and normal length shirts being long enough that they can’t be comfortably tucked in. Hence, I would like to become my own tailor. I realize that I could just hire a tailor, but that would reduce the chances of me discovering that fashion design is my calling and winning the next season of Project Runway (even though it’s lame now).

 

That could totally be my head on Heidi Samuel's pin.

2) A salt bowl. Preferably a beautiful ones in either dark or reclaimed wood or green. I have a little white porcelain bowl that I use now, and have absolutely no reason whatsoever to get a new one… but that’s what Christmas is for, right? Getting those little things you covet that you can’t justify buying for yourself? Oh, and something about virgins and mangers…. we didn’t really focus on that part, we were more interested in early morning croissants and those chocolate oranges you have to whack on a table. If whacking chocolate doesn’t spell Christmas, I don’t know what does.

I would more appropriately salt my cooking if I had this bowl, I'm sure of it. Positive.

3) Grey’s Anatomy, starting with Season 2. No explanation needed for this one – me and Meredith are soul sisters.

4) Art, baby. This is all from Gallery Nucleus, which I discovered after the boy bought me the absolutely fantastic Use Technology to Collect the Women.

The Host by James Jean

Torotoromarillaz by Mari Inukai

Tightrope by Vera Brosgol

Unsuited by Vera Brogsol

So there you go. That’s the list I put together every year to make sure I don’t end up with strange circular gears that I don’t know what to do with. I would of course also accept baklava, Whole Foods gift cards, and love – in that order. Of course, baklava and Whole Foods gift cards are synonyms for love in some languages, right?

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hakuna matata

I, like the rest of the United States, am trying to save money. I could get laid off, and then I could fail to find another job, and then I could miss a mortgage payment… and then before you know it, me and Cloey and Maida would be on the side of the road with a hilarious sign begging for money.

adorable puppy dog face

With this face, we'd be positively rolling in dough.

That’s a situation I’d prefer to avoid, so other than my fantastic new roller skates….

riedell vandal quad speed skates

Zoom zoom.

I’m not spending money. At all. Cept on, you know, necessities like beer and clothes and stuff.

Which brings me to my problem. ModCloth.com

 

The Lecture Series Dress. This would raise my IQ by several points, I have no doubt.

 

The Regina Dress. "Remember that month when I only ate boxes of tangerines?" This is the dress I would wear while doing it.

The Spiced Cider Dress. Otherwise known as the Emma on Thanksgiving Dress.

 

Concession Stand Print in Sweet. I'll buy you a corn dog, baby.

 

Knits for Pets On the Go. So Clo and Maida will be stylin when we're panhandling.

My credit cards are going into the freezer in a gigantic block of ice, Shopoholic style. Even that may not be enough to keep me away from all this adorableness.

 

 

 

 

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Fridayfriday friday friday… FRIday

(Sung to the tune of the song that is exactly like that except using the word ‘money’ in place of the word ‘Friday’.)

Once again, I have an idea for a post and will be saving my loverly contributors ideas for one of the days where it feels like the inside of my head is full of nothing but chocolate chip cookie recipes and dog fur.

At my old company, I had this friend who was something of a fashionista. Let’s call her… Betty. Betty is a beautiful, voluptuous, blond, Dallas woman. She lives in Boulder now, but I think Dallas is one of those places like Long Island – you can take the girl out but… well, you know.  Betty silently judges me for a lot of the things that I do and wear. For example, once we were having a conversation about shopping for unique sizes as I am practically miniature and she has boobs like Christina Hendricks. I said ‘I love the petite line at Ann Taylor’. She got allll excited and I thought we were having a real bonding moment, but then when she realized that to me Ann Taylor means Ann Taylor Loft (like Banana Republic vs. Gap), she shut that conversation DOWN. It was vaguely humiliating, even though I really have no intention of paying $45 for a tee-shirt.

However, Betty did teach me something about putting an outfit together that I now do every single morning before I leave for work. She said her mom found it in a magazine way back in the 70s, and they’ve both used it ever since. I googled it endlessly and can find no one else who does this, but I am totally in love with it.

Basically, you count what you’re wearing. Count as in 1-2-3-4 count.

Each article of clothing and each accessory, including jewelery, is worth 1 if it’s fairly plain. If it’s patterned or very unique in some way, it’s worth two.

That’s it, that’s the whole method. I know, it doesn’t sound that exciting, but bear with me. Once you’ve counted yourself for a few days, you start to realize what number makes you most comfortable. Betty is a 12. Her mom is a apparently a 14 (think about that for a second – it’s pretty fucking amazing). I’m an 8/9. If I forget to count and I feel awkward about my outfit all day, it’s almost always because I went up to 10 or 11.

This is what my 8 today looks like:

1

1

2 for the shirt, because of the detail. Also, this is not me. Obviously.

1. I love Fridays. Ripped jeans AT WORK.

1. Also, fake.

Necklace

1. My one of a kind naked lady holding a wine bottle necklace. Yeah, that's how I role.

1. (Betty would probably say 2, because of the button, but they feel like 1's to me.)

I know you woke up this morning wondering two things.

1) How can I be sure that I am dressed in a way that neither too much or too little for my personal style?

2) What is Emma wearing today?

You’re welcome. Happy Friday.

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NaBloPoMo

Hey everybody, it’s NaBloPoMo! That’s National Blog Posting Month, for those of you that don’t require everything you write, say, or read to be condensed to it’s shortest possible length. U no wat I mean?

Basically, every single day in the month of November I will be putting up a post. Halloween hangover? Post. (This is sooo much worse than the candy hangovers I used to get. Give me a sugar crash any day of the week.) Tofurky and red wine tryptophan coma? Post. Have nothing interesting at all to say (like every day this last week)? Post.  This sounds awesome, huh.  Fortunately I will have the brotherly support of the tiniest sprinter – he’s doing it too.

While I considered making this my entire post for the day and returning to laying on the couch moaning, I did want to show you one thing in the spirit of Sunday Best.

I want this.

And this.

Thank you, perpetualkid.com, for allowing me to bring my horror movie obsession to rooms where it never before existed.

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down to the wire, we’re gonna make it

Sigh. BIG GINORMOUS sigh.

I just wrote a long, hilarious post about these geeky watches that I found online, and when I tried to upload it it vanished. This is exceptionally depressing and while I can try to duplicate it, it will never be the same. SIGH.

Anyway. Yesterday I was reading an article on Maxim.com (yes, there is a tiny feminist crying in the corner of my mind, thank you for asking) about geeky watches. One thing led to another and soon I was doing what I do best – mining these internets for useless bullshit. I found about a billion geek watches that were hilariously awesome. I listed eight in the original post but now I’m tired and will only show you the coolest ones. They’re all by TokyoFlash, who is apparently the go to company if you do not actually want to know what time it is when you look at your wrist.

Equalizer

Equalizer

Pretend you’re looking at a soundboard. Now do you see it? The best part is that you’ll only get the single lights… you know, the ones that are showing you what time it is… for five seconds. Then it will actually look like a soundboard, with the rows lighting up randomly. This watch is perfect for a) giving yourself epilepsy and b) staring at your wrist waiting for your watch to deign to tell you the time.

Tibida

Tibida

What are those rows of lights on top, you ask? They’re telling you what time it is, obviously. Oh what? You don’t know how to read binary? Ok, hold on … 2 plus 8 plus.. wait that can’t be right. Let me start over. One plus 8… whatever. You figure it out. The boxes on the bottom will apparently tell you the date and the seconds, assuming you don’t shoot yourself because the lines at the top have destroyed whatever you believed to be true about your intelligence.

Infection

Infection

First, gross name, TokyoFlash. Really. I would not necessarily have seen a virus when I looked at this, so thank you for that. Second – wondering how you tell time with this one? I’m not even going to explain. I’ll just tell you that it’s 3:56 in the image above.  And yes, I may have used my fingers when figuring that out. I have an engineering degree, damn it!

I know I said three watches.. but… there’s one that came up in several geek watch searches that I find completely ungeeky and now crave with my whole heart and soul. It’s been discontinued and I cannot find it anywhere, which is depressing, but rest assured that if one pops up on eBay and one of you is bidding against me it will be WAR.

Half-Past Watch

Half-Past Watch

This one is not by TokyoFlash, shockingly enough. It was designed by Frank Gehry and that’s his handwriting. When it’s xx:30 it says ‘half past xx’. How fucking cool is that? This is the exact opposite of TokyoFlash – instead of making me work to figure out what time it is, it doesn’t even make me work to translate time into speech. I love it. That may or may not mean my brain is melting (and if it is I blame twitter), but whatever. I love this watch.

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