Again with the touching!

Everyone has a flaw (or two). One of mine is Geography. I failed it in elementary school and have regressed ever since. Another flaw of mine is disliking people touching me. This has been a topic for as long as I can remember (even longer, I suspect).

Chris and I had a conversation about how often we get touched in a given week, not counting each other. This isn't sexual type touching or anything like that, just touching in general. For the prior week, I recalled touching one person on the arm...barely. And that was it. Chris had given a hug to someone earlier that day and had many touching events throughout the week. I can honestly go weeks without physical contact with anyone and be totally fine. So when strangers loom in for a hug or some frisky waitress pats me on the shoulder for a better tip, I notice and am not amused.

It's better with people I know as opposed to strangers. I don't like the 'Hi I'm so-and-so. Here's a hug to show I'm sensitive!" This whole thing is an on-going topic and I go through life assuming that people understand. However, some people do notice that I'll go years without seeing them and give them a wave instead of a hearty hug-ride, but as it seems to be somewhat a part of me, they just let it be. I'm just grateful I live in the least touchy country in the world...I think I read that Italy was the touchiest...sheesh.

An Erinku:
pens
strewn about
lying in wait
for use

Mysteries

Mysterious things are afoot in the Hobbit Hole. Things like baked apples in the oven. Things like how my beer got finished so quickly. Things like Dana practicing "Peter and the Wolf" in the next room. Things like some ass monkey on t.v. talking about himself for 90 minutes and ruining a perfectly good, empty Monday night. I don't think it's too much to ask that people who hold monologues cut it short and sell the Cliff Note version. Nothing worthwhile has been changed by a televised address in my t.v. lifetime. Bleh!

An Erinku:
oh olive
so round
olive-y
deliciousness

Missing Lakes

Near my home are two different theoretical lakes theoretically accessible by trails. I have looked for either one of these lake for about four years now. Today, I hiked fives miles in the direction indicated by the trail arrows and found...a lot of dirt trail and no lakes. I'm not sure what to do about this. It's not like I can call up Colorado Recreation and report a missing lake or complain about false advertising. It's mysterious and rather boring for a Saturday adventure.

Moral of today's story: A History of Western Music can be a dull and uninspiring read.

An Erinku:
coaster
protecting wood
from beers past

Perils

In spite of theoretically having today off of work, I still managed to get called into my job for a...wait for it...photo shoot. My lovely face, and those of my co-workers, will grace the pages of the company's catalogs that get sent out to perverts, wierdos and regular people all around the world. There's also a habit of keeping the same company picture in the catalog for a decade or so. There was a girl who worked at the company for a week (magically, the week of the company picture) in 2000 and was still in this year's catalog. Assuming that I leave that job before 2016, my visage will continue there long after I do. I think that was a proper use of "visage" in a sentence.

I worked at ticket center in college (like a local version of Ticketmaster) and the VERY first order of business was to create a "phone name." This is because there are a lot of perverts, wierdos and regular people in this world and our employer wanted us not to get stalked, raped, or otherwise damaged after taking phone orders all evening. I was Julie. It was a lovely name and I did have some creepy ass wierdos who called up from time to time.

I keep this in mind at my day job as I answer the phone as Erin and will now have my picture in a catalog identified as Erin (I was going to be Mathilda, or Samantha, or Julie but it sounds like fake names are not an option). We currently sometimes have a little problem with "Phone Stalkers" and I'm a bit uncomfortable adding to this. On the other hand, if I refused to be in the catalog, millions of masturbatory fantasies could go unfulfilled.

An Erinku:
pant flap
doesn't hide
forgotten
zipper

Evil Preponderance of Squirrels

One thing that sucks about living a day-to-day life is the amount of choices you have to make every single day. Not knowing any other time period than the one I'm currently living (take that, history class!) I am going to assume that as we humans evolve, we give ourselves more and more choices.

While this might be nice if you'd rather a salad instead of fries with dinner, it really is awful when you think of all the little decisions made all the time. The decision of which type of toothpaste first thing in the morning, the type of breakfast (cooked or cereal or cooked cereal?), the whole coffee-shop thing I'll not even discuss (my favorite being an iced, soy, caffe creme caramel) and onward through the hours until you're ready to weep when the cashier offers you paper or plastic.

I've often fanticised (fantisized, fanticized...urg my spelling tonight is off) about going to some place called "Plain Old Diner" and there being three things total on the menu. You can't substitute, trade up or anything remotely annoying like that. You order 1, 2, or 3 and that's what you get. They even provide you with water, a beer and a coffee (again, no choice). If you raise a tantrum, they kick you out. Fantasies, just fantasies.

Someday though, evolution will stop because our descendants will have too many options (let's see, wings or chicken feet? feathers or fur? intelligence or a hot ass?), become completely befuddled and then the squirrels will take over. About my long-standing loathing/fear of squirrels I will not speak. It's a topic bigger than one sentence can handle....

An Erinku (like a haiku, only not):
tin foil
crunkled up
retaining that
yummy dinner smell

The Next Big Thing

I will sometimes have enough and will snap. Instead of rioting in a disorganized fashion, I will take to reading rational websites about the latest scientific updates. At times it is such a relief to get away from new-agey-feeling type of things. And yes-yes, while everyone feels things and "knows their own truth" I sometimes like the idea that a truth will be the same no matter the day, the time or how someone feels (like how having your appendix removed seems to work better than sending it positive thoughts).

This is a HUGE issue for me and will probably continue to be so until I've magically evolved/reincarnated/transcended all these attachments to logic that I've got. And just to keep me in the chaotic real world, I seem to have lost my belt and feel that my thermal undies aren't sexy enough to hang out the back of my pants....maybe thermal thongs are the next big thing in Colorado.

An Erinku:
clarinet
tipped by
trapped by
cello

Unexpected Art

I look like a hippie. Always. Even with short hair, tan pants and some sort of yuppie-type shirt, I still have a hippie vibe that cuts through, much like Peppe Le Peu always has that skunk vibe even when he looks like a kitty. That being said, I am the type of person who receives tye-dyed toilet paper for Christmas. Tye-dye (or tie-die or whatever spelling) toilet paper is a facinating idea because someone took the time to dip a roll of toilet paper into various colors for my own visual and personal amusement. As it's unravelled, there are more white bits mixed in with the reds, blues and greens. However, the pattern is lovely and the paper is soft. If I were less tired, I'd make some clever remark about funding the arts and toilets, but it's late.

An Erinku:
Aloe plant
overtaking pot,
neighbor, window
hogging weak sunlight

Twins

I seem to have a lot of toothbrush epiphanies lately. Today's involved the sexism about twins. More specifically, it involved the sexism about having sex with twins. It's always some guy terribly excited about sleeping with two girl twins. Having known a few twins, the girls are never that anxious about having sex in the same bed as their sister for some reason. But that is all beside the point. The point is that you never see a pizza commercial where a girl is fantasizing about having sex with two guy twins.

This whole threesome make-up has been a topic of mine for ages (keeping in mind that I'm a terrible prude and live through the threesome stories of my many, many adventurous friends...enough that I think I'm the last prude on the planet). It's always, in theory, two girls and a guy, which has all sorts of logistical problems. In reality, it's always two guys and a girl...which is much more anatomically correct and realistic.

Anyways, the whole sexism about twins was enough to pause my toothbrush this morning and is a topic worthy enough for me spend time about while waiting for my pizza to arrive.

The moral of today's story: table salt dissolves porch ice like rock salt does.

An Erinku:
blue ball
bouncy
wrecking
permanence

Sheep

While I was brushing my teeth this morning, pre-coffee, I had such an amazing thought I forgot to continue brushing. I will again stress that this was pre-coffee. I'd been thinking about my wool sweater and how you can't wash them in machines unless you want them to shrink (a.k.a. felt). While pre-coffee, it occurred to me to wonder "well, why don't sheep shrink in the rain?"

At this precise moment, Chris (also pre-coffee) was having his own epiphany in the kitchen (which sounds rude). Chris' was profound: he was wondering who ever decided that coffee was drinkable.

I researched on the magical internet and learned that while some sheep are miniaturized, they (sadly) do NOT shrink in the rain. I learned about how the scales on their hair will lock together when shorn and wetly agitated (sounds rude) and don't really shrink, but just become more compact. I was getting excited about people having sheep so small that it looked like they didn't even have sheep. For all I knew, I had an entire flock hovering near my ankles.

Chris made his coffee, forgot it on the counter, came home a few hours later to reheat the coffee and then forgot to drink it again. He moved on to orange juice without incident. Another pre-coffee day in the Hobbit Hole life.

An Erinku:
lights in bathroom
much much
better than
showering by flashlight

Cold, So Cold

Today it was officially cold enough to fuse my butt cheeks together. I've heard of it happening and today I got to experience the joy for myself. I was thinking about various body bits freezing while waiting for my bus and as the cold wind blasted through coat, jacket, sweater and shirt, I decided it was a butt cheek kind of day. There's just something so funny about butt cheeks...

On a completely unrelated topic, I heard the funniest joke and so far only one other person has laughed at it. Here it is Q: What is brown and sticky?

And after you think about all the gross things it could be, then all the different kinds of candies it could, you finally say "What?" and the answer is: a stick. It's funny every time! Adam enjoyed it enough that he's been asking everyone he encounters. No one has yet to laugh as much as he did.

I really had a better topic to write about tonight, but I thought of it before sleeping and forgot. Sigh. Here's another Adam joke instead: "You know how geese fly in those V's in the sky? Do you know why one side of the V is always longer?"

And you think of all the deep reasons, instincts, wind draft and what have you. Then you say "Why?" and the answer is: because there are more geese on that side.

An Erinku:
random pillow
always on floor
nestled by computer
untouched by toe

Drinking Buddies

One of the BEST perks of drinking with choir folks is that after a few beers, they are not afraid to sing along with the juke box, radio, band, etc. If you have a whole table full of choir folk, then songs by Michael Jackson get broken into four-part harmonies. And the best part of all this is that it's in tune. If/when you drink with a bunch of instrumentalists they, too, will start singing with Michael Jackson...and while it's fun, they totally suck at singing. So it goes.

An Erinku:
tiger tongue
o tiger tongue
long and drippy
on my calender

Theories

As I walk, I come up with many different theories about why things are. Today as I was hauling ass in skirt and tennis shoes, I got to thinking about happy little endorphins. (I think) they are the reason for runner's high. I find that after a lunch time walkie, I'm much more plesant and more relaxed than I am in the mornings.

It got me thinking about how many cranky people there are. And also about how there's press releases every day about Americans not exercising enough. The magic connection being that when someone tells me to "take a hike" it's because I've been a bitch. The end.

Moral of today's story: mmm. mmm. yellow post-its are fun.

An Erinku:
socks that were
brown at home
are really a nice
shade of purple

Walk Thoughts

While walking this evening, I found a park nearby that has horseshoe pits. Not just one or two, but twelve horseshoe pits. Who knew that there was such need in the suburbs for horseshoe pits? Besides a plethora of horseshoe pits, my little suburb has plenty of churches. All varieties are available and are conveniently located on every other block or so.

As I was passing by some church a service was getting ready to start. It was like a cartoon with the same background repeating over and over (like when Coyote is chasing Road Runner) with SUV's pulling into the church lot, four people getting out and then the BEEP BEEP of car alarms being set (as opposed to the MEEP MEEP of Road Runner). I wondered how good this church was that people felt their car would be stolen in the parking lot. On the other hand, I was walking by in a hoodie and perhaps I've finally developed that aura of troublemaking that I've been working on for almost 30 years. Meep meep.

An Erinku:
frozen fingers
slowly type
ears are
thawing

Lies and Needles

Whenever I get blood drawn or a shot or an i.v. or what have you, the nurse/doctor/person with the needle(s) always says it won't hurt. They are fucking liars. I had blood drawn today and the look of exasperated pity-annoyance the lady gave me didn't bother me. Her needle did.

I'm fine with blood (though I'm not fond of seeing me lose it) but the whole sharp metal thing writhing around in my vein is ghastly. I didn't even get a fun band-aid to cover the gaping hole in my elbow. Any minute now I could spurt forth a fountain of life, staining the floor and the walls, while howling in angst about needles. Pray I never need to sew by hand...

An Erinku:
little me
falling
sparkles in
your eyes

Being a Wii-Nii

I've got bowler's butt from playing the Wii. Bowler's butt is a term coined by Ducky to describe the pain you feel in your left (or right) butt cheek the day after bowling. Though I suppose I really have virtual bowler's butt. It just hurts like the real thing.

As I play the various sports games that came with our new toy, I realize there are many sports at which I suck ass. Tennis for one. I've played it in real life maybe twice. My virtual game is horrid; little screen Erin keeps falling over...which, while an accurate depiction of me, is disturbing.

I also very much suck at volleyball. I have freakishly long and bony fingers. With so little fat padding, it hurts like an ass-pick to whack a stupid ball (sigh, if I only knew the words in high school I so freely use now). And though I just came up with the term ass-pick, I don't really know what it means. It sounds either really painful or like something you do in the corner and hope nobody notices. I seem to be butt focused today.

An Erinku:
Dog on walk
created a
goose stampede

One or Possibly Three

In a strange meeting between my vegetarian leanings (not wearing fur and being confused by people who do) and my amazing ability to be a smart ass, while tromping about in my new fuzzy pink slipper-boots, I wondered aloud "How many Muppets died for my outfit?"

An Erinku:
tamales steaming
gently
on stove
hooray new pots!

Coincidence?

As I've wandered through various stores during my life, I have repeatedly noticed that the baby aisle is always right next to the pet aisle. In working at various stores during my life, I have often noticed that some people treat their kids like pets. It makes sense that there is some confusion. Some people probably really wanted a puppy growing up and accidentally wandered into the next aisle. I mean, there's even leashes for kids and if that doesn't blur the line between kid and pet, I don't know what does.

While I waited in line to purchase condoms, there were lots of families getting out of church who were also in line to buy things (not condoms). I seem to buy condoms on Sunday mornings unintentionally, but I'm going to do it on purpose from here on out. There was a guy in line behind me with two screaming little things and he looked enviously at my purchases. Maybe it was the condoms or maybe it was the Jane Austen movie that was on sale. I'll never know...

An Erinku:
savory rice crackers
for breakfast
sagging through lack
of coffee yet

Right Time

Imagine how sucky it would be to ride around in a covered wagon, hoe some rows and not have any midol if you felt crappy. Or imagine trying to haul hay with a migraine. While I rarely take painkilling-type things, I always think they are the best invention when I need them. Chris makes a good point that indoor plumbing is the best invention. Will a toilet help with a headache? Perhaps.

I'm off today to have various adventures that I wouldn't have been able to have 200 years ago. I've had a latte and am going on an Erin's Adventure Club outting on "Banjo Billy's Boulder Bus Tour" complete with saddles IN the bus (yeah, didn't make sense to me either). The things that fill up a Saturday...

An Erinku:
cats sleep
less than
you think

Signs of the Times

I once read an article written by some guy interviewing a native Alaskan-American-Eskimo (whatever the p.c. term is---sorry, I suck at this). The native guy kept talking about how, when faced with death while in the frozen wilderness, it was unacceptable in his culture to show fear. Fear didn't change the fact that it was 60 below in a blizzard. Bawling, pleading and screaming weren't going to bring you home any more likely than keeping your head and coming to terms that you might die would.

He went on to say he thought it very odd that Americans were always showing fear, although it would be in the shape of anger (temper tantrums) or in the shape of denial (control issues) or in some other mis-shape. I think of this interview sometimes when I encounter an adult who is in the throes of acting like a toyless three-year-old.

Today's example involved a woman having an electronic version of a tamper tantrum. She was unhappy about being charged $2.41 for sales tax on her internet order. While I spent time (once even a few hours) crafting kindly replies, her emails back were very instantaneous and said something like "If you charge me sales tax, cancel my order and I'll never speak to you again" only much more rude and agressive.

It's one thing to be anti-tax and protest in whatever fashion makes you happy, but by law, a busines has got to deal with that stuff. And to drag me into it is bullshit because I'm just the lowly peon messenger! It got to the point where I had two people reading over my answers and one person helping me write because what I wanted to say ("Look, how about you don't be a dumb bitch?") doesn't work too well over e-mail. The last email to her, masterfully crafted by a co-worker with much more backbone than me, ended the debate...for the time being. I wonder how sales-tax-lady would handle being stuck out in a 60 below blizzard far from home? She'd probably angrily text god or something. Bleh.

An Erinku:
new quilt
in bag on floor
new quilt smell
to be savored

Odd

The other night I fell asleep while watching the Twilight Zone. It's not a statement about the show, it's more a statement of how I sleep. The sad thing about sleeping while watching the Twilight Zone is that you're never sure if you really did wake up the next day. As my life has been very odd since January 1st, I'm choosing to wait and see just what twisted little event will tie it all together.

I also seem to have to a problem with writing short, little things lately. This too, like all bubble gum, shall pass.

An Erinku:
underwear gods
smiled upon
me and blessed me
this holiday season

Averages

I had a disturbing thought ago about how I'm nothing more than an average of all my friends. Since then, I've been overly aware of when I'm acting like so-and-so, or how I sounded exactly like miss-thing when I said that, and so on.

This would apply to other people as well (at least as far as my averaged brain can assume), so it makes sense to only hang out with exciting people. I imagine a world where everyone has very average friends and then passes it along like a terribly boring plague.

Since I'm now at a point where I'm not entirely convinced I have any unique qualities whatsoever, I'm typing on myspace while I drink coffee...

An Erinku:
fly on window
a vision
of summer
past

On Tiaras

Nothing says "Happy New Year" like a tiara emblazoned with the phrase "Happy New Year." For the past several years, I've found myself wearing these paper tiaras at various festive events. Every year involves being somewhere (and someone) very loud. And every year my tiara gets crunched during the festivities. I could make some analogy about plans being crushed like a New Year's tiara, but that would be a silly analogy. It's time for cake.

An Erinku:
empty shelves
untrustworthy
lack of dust
suspicious