I Can't, Vol. 35

Let me start with this rant: MODERN MEDICINE IS AROUND FOR A REASON. BECAUSE IT WORKS AND WE'RE NOT IN MEDIEVAL TIMES AND YOU DON'T NEED TO NOT GO TO THE DOCTOR AND THINK THAT YOU CAN KICK ILLNESS ON YOUR OWN WITH FUCKING WEIRD ASS HOMEMADE REMEDIES. JUST GO TO THE DAMN DOCTOR, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS.

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On another several notes...

I can't...

that I didn't go to the doctor sooner last week when I knew I was sick and shit wasn't getting any better. It was just so... stubborn of me. It ended up taking me almost two weeks to get over being ill, and I only had myself to blame. I was unable to breathe properly out of nose, got all sorts of hopped up on antibiotics, and had to skip out on social fun all because I acted like a man who refuses the doctor unless death is near. Good job, Emma. 

I CAN'T...

believe Halls cough drops are 25 calories for 2. WTF is that shit? So you're telling me I digested probably over 1,000 calories of citrus-flavored candy medicine when I was sick? Too bad a Chipotle burrito doesn't have the same throat-soothing effects as cough drops, because that's WAY more worth the 1,000+ calories.

I CAN'T...

with my face lately. You know those weeks where it just looks WRONG? You can't exactly pinpoint what it is — stray zits? Washed out complexion? Or maybe you just got hit hard in the punim with the ugly stick that week? Whatever it is, it's not doing anything for you and no amount of perfectly executed makeup makes it better. Not even when your eyebrows are the most on fleek they've ever been.

I CAN'T...

deal with a banana that isn't perfect and I can't understand people who can. One bruise, one brown spot, one anything and I'm OUT. I am that piece of shit produce waster and IDGAF because bruised bananas are the devil's fruit. On that note...

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I CAN'T...

believe I'm admitting this but, last week, my level of lazy reached an all-time high: I ate around the sticker on the apple and threw the rest out because I couldn't be bothered to peel it off. 

I CAN'T...

believe there are still lawn tickets available for the Oddball Comedy Fest this Sunday in Dallas, and I'm so glad I decided to buy one this morning at 7:30. I had to skip out last year because of (YOU GUESSED IT) being sick (I think this time of year for me is a pattern?), and I will NOT miss little Aziz and perfect Amy headlining the shit out of that shit. Plus, it's on a Sunday night and I can't think of a better way to wrap up a weekend. AMIRITE? Buy a ticket and find me there (JK it's gonna be crowded as fuck and that's creepy).

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I CAN'T...

re: Lamar Odom. I never thought I'd say this about any Kardashian sister, but I feel bad for Khloe. Oh, and speaking of which...

I CAN'T...

with Amy Schumer and Khloe's little twitter spat. I also can't decide what my stance is on Amy's Khloe joke on SNL this past weekend. In case you missed the monologue, here is Schumer's riff:

“We have to be a role model for these little girls, because who do they have? All they have really is the Kardashians. Is that a great message for little girls? A whole family of women who take faces they were born with as a light suggestion? We used to have Khloe. Khloe was ours, right? Whenever there’s a group of women, you identify with one of them … but then Khloe, she lost half her body weight."

Part of me is like, she's right: Khloe was ours. Her realistic body spoke to the majority of females. She was the "real" sister. But then the other part of me that's been on my own "get fit" journey and knows the trials and tribulations of sticking to a routine is like, she's wrong: Khloe shouldn't be judged for her hard work or thought less of. She's still the same Khloe; she just decided to make a change and earned every bead of sweat of her new and improved look. Whatever — I'm getting cheese fries.

I CAN'T...

when you give a guy a clear out and he doesn't take it even though he definitely wants to. It makes no sense to me. Case in point: I was talking to this dude I had connected with via Bumble. We actually have several mutual friends; okay maybe not "mutual," but I somehow know all of his friends. We chatted in the app, moved it to text, and he was all "We should grab drinks soon." Ok. A week went by — nada. So, being the impatient and uncomfortably straightforward female I can be, I was all "Hey. Um, so did you ever wanna do the damn thing and grab drinks or are you sort of over it?" Ver batim. Shrug. I AIN'T GOT THE TIME, Y'ALL. And he was all "I for sure still want to! Let's go next week." And I was all "Okay, I'm free most nights as of now, so pick a date and lemme know!" A week went by — nada. I just. WHAT? Look, guy — you owe me nothing. I don't know you. I haven't met you. You were the one who suggested meeting, then dropped the ball. But I was interested enough to pick the ball back up and casually spike it your way. You could've easily not responded — this is one of the only situations in which it's okay to Houdini the fuck out of me. But, instead, you responded! And reiterated that, yes! You want to get drinks! But you really didn't, so why bother? You're too nice. It's gross.

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I CAN'T...

also, that I went on my first ever Tinder date with a legitimate nomad. No, really. This dude seemed to travel a lot – like more than what's normal for anyone, anywhere. Before we met, I was all "I have to know what kind of job you have that allows you take off an entire summer and travel like you do!" And he was all "I want to tell you in person so I can read your facial expressions." What? I should've known at that point this was gonna be disappointing, but I resolved he was either a trust fund baby or a fucking weirdo who has decided to try and "find himself" at 32 and has no life plan. With my luck, I knew it would be the latter, but still — I went. And low and behold, he had "retired" at 25 because he just "didn't feel like working in a traditional environment anymore," and has been couch surfing and (as of late) Air BnB'ing to his heart's desire. He's worked on a couple of farms up north and is heading down south to Austin "for the winter." He mentioned worker's comp checks and his parent's help, and I'm almost positive he was high when he showed up. A literal nomad. He even bragged that his backseat folded down perfectly for him to sleep in if need be when on the road. I just. Well, I can't.

I CAN'T...

help but wonder if some of my followers/readers have thought perhaps I'm writing publicly too soon about my newest "single and ready to get disappointed over and over again" escapades after being with someone for a good amount of time and making our relationship pretty public via my online presence. I noticed last week, after I had posted a status about two different guys I was contemplating, I lost about 4 followers. They could be my ex's friends; they could be total strangers who are just sick of my shit. Regardless, it got me thinking. I debated for a little while whether or not I should ever write about my recent breakup and decided against it, but I'll say this — it's life. It's just life. People date, and 9 times out of 10, it doesn't work out and you break up and someone moves on quicker than the other. I've had the shoes on both feet, and none of it is fun. However, when you know someone isn't your person — when you've come to the realization that, no matter how many good things you two have going and how good it might've looked to the general public from the outside looking in yet it still just doesn't feel how you needed it to feel — you have to end things for both of your sakes and move on. And moving on is scary, but exciting because you're older and wiser and your tolerance for putting up with bright, crimson colored flags is lower than it's ever been and it's a very empowering feeling. I'm just a human; I'm a girl looking for her person, and I have this blog as a lamenting outlet. So I'm gonna do that because it's what I've always done. AND YOU WILL LIKE IT. Or you won't, and I'm okay with that.

Okay. Emma out.

xox,

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