Category Archives: the people I love

the tiniest sprinter is a party pooper

tiniest sprinter: so how’s the butt?

emma: achy. i think it’s broken.

tiniest sprinter: whaaa? what does that mean? can you still do stuff? we’re talking tailbone here, right?

emma: yeah. tailbone. i think i broke it because the symptoms of bruising are different. it hurts when i sit on it. but not actually more than when i’m not sitting on it. its hard to explain. but i think it’s broken.

tiniest sprinter: i’ve heard they don’t DO anything for it if it’s broken anyway, though, right?

emma: right. maybe tell me to stop skating. and fuck that shit.

tiniest sprinter: you should have the tailbone removed!

emma: i was talking about that last night. and either get it replaced with titanium so i can mess some girls up. or some floppy polymer so i’m all bendy.

tiniest sprinter: or just removed. i doubt it does anything.

emma: ok but imagine if it was titanium. and i could put thread on there and then get a titanium tail and screw it on and off whenever i wanted.

tiniest sprinter: gross. the tail would come out from between your butt cheeks.

emma: wow you are just a serious party pooper today

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Filed under I'm a cranky brat, other people are sometimes funny too, the people I love, they let me on skates?

you say it's your birthday

Oh wait, that’s me. It’s MY birthday.

I usually drag the celebration out to a week or more, but this year I’ve only managed a couple of days. Saturday I had a birthday princess pajama slumber party complete with a tiara shaped cake, a dozen women in my 700 square foot house, and a drink menu that included champagne, cherry champagne cocktails, lemon drop martinis, and more wine than you can shake a princess wand at.

As you’re no doubt imagining, it pretty much looked like a cross between

This. The one in the middle is clearly me - she even has my hair.

And this.

I made these fantastic women, who had already left the house in pajamas just because I asked them to, play a series of goofy games.

  • Everyone had to pick a PJ name – kind of like a derby name but specific to the slumber party. There were some killers, including Rosey Glow, Pepper, Katie Kakes, and Suga’ Moma. I quite literally withheld drinks until names were chosen – because that’s the kind of hostess I am.
  • I passed around a notebook and a pen and made everyone write either the best thing about their 29th year or what their plan for 29 is, depending on their stage of life. Most memorably, my friends who are less than 29 are apparently going to cure cancer and AIDS in their 29th years – keep an eye out for that, it’s gonna be huge.
  • When I opened my gifts, I told the most embarrassing story I could think of about each person.
  • I made everyone tell their best Emma story. Not a single person reciprocated with an embarrassing story about me, even though one of the stories I’d told involved a roomful of teenage girls sitting around rubbing their eyelids because one my girlfriends-who-shall-remain-nameless told us that’s what a penis felt like.

In summary, the women in my life are fan-fucking-tastic and I am something of a brat when I throw a party.

29 is going to be a very good year.

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Filed under it's all about me, the people I love

you say it’s your birthday

Oh wait, that’s me. It’s MY birthday.

I usually drag the celebration out to a week or more, but this year I’ve only managed a couple of days. Saturday I had a birthday princess pajama slumber party complete with a tiara shaped cake, a dozen women in my 700 square foot house, and a drink menu that included champagne, cherry champagne cocktails, lemon drop martinis, and more wine than you can shake a princess wand at.

As you’re no doubt imagining, it pretty much looked like a cross between

This. The one in the middle is clearly me - she even has my hair.

And this.

I made these fantastic women, who had already left the house in pajamas just because I asked them to, play a series of goofy games.

  • Everyone had to pick a PJ name – kind of like a derby name but specific to the slumber party. There were some killers, including Rosey Glow, Pepper, Katie Kakes, and Suga’ Moma. I quite literally withheld drinks until names were chosen – because that’s the kind of hostess I am.
  • I passed around a notebook and a pen and made everyone write either the best thing about their 29th year or what their plan for 29 is, depending on their stage of life. Most memorably, my friends who are less than 29 are apparently going to cure cancer and AIDS in their 29th years – keep an eye out for that, it’s gonna be huge.
  • When I opened my gifts, I told the most embarrassing story I could think of about each person.
  • I made everyone tell their best Emma story. Not a single person reciprocated with an embarrassing story about me, even though one of the stories I’d told involved a roomful of teenage girls sitting around rubbing their eyelids because one my girlfriends-who-shall-remain-nameless told us that’s what a penis felt like.

In summary, the women in my life are fan-fucking-tastic and I am something of a brat when I throw a party.

29 is going to be a very good year.

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Filed under it's all about me, the people I love

Well you can tell by the way I use my walk

Chewbacca*: big Saturday Night Fever fan?

emmanation: nope

emmanation: I seem to remember it being quite depressing

emmanation: right?

Chewbacca: oh emma

Chewbacca: there are so many life lessons in that movie….I am really starting to feel distant from you.

emmanation: I hate depressing movies

emmanation: tell me the life lessons

emmanation: without me having to watch it

emmanation: then we both win

Chewbacca: and horror movies are not depressing…….mmmmmmm you have issues

emmanation: horror movies aren’t even a little bit depressing

emmanation: you have it backwards

Chewbacca: I wholeheartedly disagree….Horror movies desensitize you to the world

Chewbacca: life lessons from Sat night fever

Chewbacca:

  1. There are two types of women….Neighborhood sluts and girls that want more out of life. You are better off with the latter.
  2. Hard work in a paint store will get you a raise.
  3. The weekend is for dancing not just drinking.
  4. A group of friends with similar interests is what life is all about until one of them gets beat up in a gang fight and then tells you on his hospital bed that it is not worth it.
  5. It is ok to have a sense of community and strut around it….and to dream of visiting other places in a bigger city.
  6. Watch out for Puerto Ricans…..They can dance better than Italians.
  7. Put a napkin over your shirt before you go out.
  8. Spending extra time on your hair will get you the girl in the end.

emmanation: LOL

emmanation: these are excellent

Chewbacca: 9) Don’t give a short whiney guy drugs…..It exaggerates depression and he may jump off a bridge

emmanation: too far

*not his real name.

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Filed under I have a pop culture problem, I make lists, other people are sometimes funny too, the people I love, work

the tiniest sprinter gets and loses a girlfriend

me: i forgot to tell you something funny

there is a girl on my derby team named nicolette

and when i met her someone said she should marry my brother

and i said that i’d introduce you

but she’d have to steal you from your girlfriend

and that you were 25

and she’s like 32

and we decided that you were dating but then the age difference and the girlfriend thing were just too hard

and you had to break up

and then i took her picture

so you could see your ex girlfriend that you never met

and she said to tell you it was the best 30 second long distance relationship of her life

Sam: excellent

me: sending it now

Sam: we would have dark haired children with excellent cheekbones

me: that you would

The Ex Future Mrs. Tiniest Sprinter

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Filed under I think I'm funny, other people are sometimes funny too, the people I love, they let me on skates?

I'm just going to apologize in advance

I downloaded Picasa a couple of days ago to organize the 17 kajillion pictures that I’ve collected since I left college. Picasa has this truly magical facial recognition algorithm that pretty much blows my mind.

For example, it recognized both of these pictures as me.

Yeah I was wicked hot in college. No, you cannot go back and ask college Emma for her phone number, as tempting as that sounds. No, I was not stoned - this is just how I looked. No, I no longer wear blue eye shadow and cannot for the life of me remember why I thought it was a good idea.

Modeling my handmade princess necklace from the street faire last summer. Yes, that's really how they spell faire. No, I have no idea why.

Of course, it also thought this was me.

Yeah, it's not. One would hope the beard would be a giveaway. Not that the tiniest sprinter isn't a handsome fellow, of course, and you do have to give them points for recognizing the family resemblance.

So yeah, that one kind of makes sense. This one, though….

My uncle Jeff. Not, as far as I've ever noticed, looking much like me.

To summarize, Picasa’s facial recognition algorithms are both magical and occasionally kind of insulting.

It has, however, helped me locate every single picture of my dear girls.

Could they be any more adorable? That's a rhetorical question, of course.

This is where the apology in the title line comes in. Maida, the one on the right, currently smells like something crawled into her stomach and died. If I could swap her for the non-stinky version I remember from that picture, I would do it in a split second.

I have been so lucky with Cloey these past eight years, but I think it might be time to call a vet and find out what the whole anal gland squeezing is about. Yeah, I just said anal, gland, and squeezing in one sentence.

Again, I apologize.

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Filed under girl geek, it's hard being this beautiful, the people I love

I’m just going to apologize in advance

I downloaded Picasa a couple of days ago to organize the 17 kajillion pictures that I’ve collected since I left college. Picasa has this truly magical facial recognition algorithm that pretty much blows my mind.

For example, it recognized both of these pictures as me.

Yeah I was wicked hot in college. No, you cannot go back and ask college Emma for her phone number, as tempting as that sounds. No, I was not stoned - this is just how I looked. No, I no longer wear blue eye shadow and cannot for the life of me remember why I thought it was a good idea.

Modeling my handmade princess necklace from the street faire last summer. Yes, that's really how they spell faire. No, I have no idea why.

Of course, it also thought this was me.

Yeah, it's not. One would hope the beard would be a giveaway. Not that the tiniest sprinter isn't a handsome fellow, of course, and you do have to give them points for recognizing the family resemblance.

So yeah, that one kind of makes sense. This one, though….

My uncle Jeff. Not, as far as I've ever noticed, looking much like me.

To summarize, Picasa’s facial recognition algorithms are both magical and occasionally kind of insulting.

It has, however, helped me locate every single picture of my dear girls.

Could they be any more adorable? That's a rhetorical question, of course.

This is where the apology in the title line comes in. Maida, the one on the right, currently smells like something crawled into her stomach and died. If I could swap her for the non-stinky version I remember from that picture, I would do it in a split second.

I have been so lucky with Cloey these past eight years, but I think it might be time to call a vet and find out what the whole anal gland squeezing is about. Yeah, I just said anal, gland, and squeezing in one sentence.

Again, I apologize.

2 Comments

Filed under girl geek, it's hard being this beautiful, the people I love