Welcome to the new 2009 edition of getting to know your friends.
1. What is your occupation right now?
Currently I'm the Fetch-Tossing-Human for the cat. It's a full-time position but I try to narrow it down to an hour a day or less. The pay is little toy mice dropped at my feet over and over...sometimes after they've been dunked in the toilet and fished out by the cat. I don't play with toilet mice.
2. What color are your socks right now?
naked toes!
3. What are you listening to right now?
The creaky floorboards under my neighbor's very pregnant feet. Actually, it's her belly that's pregnant, yet she still walks with her feet.
4. What was the last thing that you ate?
I inhaled a sandwich from Deli Zone on the way to my lesson. Ordering from Deli Zone is always exciting because they are over-compensating for not being in New York.
5. Can you drive a stick shift?
Yes, but I'm pretty crappy at starting on hills. Except when I'm pointed downhill, then I'm absolutely fine.
6. Last person you spoke to
Dylan. Does a cat count as a person? Before that I was cursing out the printer with flowery language. Does a printer count as a person? Before that I was listening to a choir-type talk. Does listening count as speaking to someone? Even more importantly, does a choir-type count as a person?
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Well duh, it's Squeaky!
8. How old are you today?
30. It's been much better than 29.
9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?
Lacrosse! Men dressing up like SpongeBob to whack each other with sticks! What's not to like?
10.What is your favorite drink?
Large iced soy caffe creme caramel (a.k.a. Diabetes in a bottle). Sadly, Java Java coffee shop is closed. *sniff, sniff*
11.Have you ever dyed your hair?
Why yes, even with Kool-aid (to get that real berry red color that washes right out).
12.Favorite food?
Cottage cheese or potatoes or sushi. I think I could live solely on these three foods.
13.What is the last movie you watched?
Kung Fu Panda. "Legend tells of a legendary warrior whose Kung Fu skills were the stuff of legend."
14.Favorite day of the year?
My BIRTHDAY!
15.How do you vent anger?
To a person: frown so as not to cry. To an inanimate thing: swear under my breath and curse all its little bits.
16.What was your favorite toy as a child?
Well, I really liked My Little Ponies, I remember liking Strawberry Shortcake dolls, and I thought the toy piano was cool. I also liked roller skates before I realized I have a problem with falling over.
17.What is your favorite season?
It rotates: whatever season is six months away. Right now summer sounds pretty nice as currently the wind is dropping the temperature to a billion degrees below zero.
18.Cherries or Blueberries?
Blueberries.
19.Do you want your friends to e-mail you back?
Alas no. Not right now. I'm a good six weeks behind already and every email adds a little more pressure to the hermit/technophobe side of my personality. I have an audition in four weeks. I will need a beer afterwards. Talk to me then...
20.Who is the most likely to respond?
Respond to what? A beer invite? Clark. A frantic last-minute "I need a lesson" call? Cassye. A hollering about where I put my glasses? Chris. An actually emergency? Paramedics.
21.Who is least likely to respond?
Again, lest likely to respond to what? A solo dance performance audition? Thad. If I very fakely said "Can you lift that for me because I'm a weak little girl?" Cyndi. Me continually whining about having cold toes while not wearing socks? Mom. An actual injury resulting from tripping on the stairs in a train and cutting your pinky on plastic polyester and really, really needing a band-aid? the train conductor guy
22.Living arrangements?
I live in Dana's garage. Also known as "the Hobbit Hole."
23.When was the last time you cried?
Last Monday. I had food poisoning and absolutely needed to drive into Denver. I was stuck in a huge traffic jam and I realized I was almost completely out of gas and that I needed to puke. My stress resistance was non-existent at that point. Everything eventually worked out, but it was a weepy little while there.
24.What is on the floor of your closet?
Cat fur (it's actually coating the entirity of my world I think). SCSI cable parts. Fuzzy slippers. Dresses that fell off the hanger and I've not noticed yet.
25.Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?
Well, I'm just posting this as opposed to obnoxiously sending it directly to people's inboxes. I'll say mom, since I've known her for over 30 years.
26.What did you do last night?
The short version: practiced cello, rode the bus home, watched Buffy while crocheting a blanket, slept like I'd been up for 20 hours.
27.What are you most afraid of?
Black holes. *shudder*
28.Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers?
I'm swinging back towards veggie again. Cheese is good.
29.Favorite dog breed?
Cat-dog. I've got one and it's great. It's a dog, but in a cat body. No barking. No poo walks. Alas, there is still the chasing-cats thing, though.
30.Favorite day of the week?
Saturday. I've been insistent about it being a complete day off for me; I don't even socialize on those days.
31.How many states / countries have you lived in?
Five states, one country. I'm boring that way.
32.Diamonds or pearls?
Neither because "If he loves you, he'll buy you platinum." This was an actual ad in a bridal magazine. I've always sarcastically enjoyed the idea that love=things because it really helps out consumerism if you think that way. I've been quoting that ad for years and often changing it to suit my purpose as in: "Kristen, if you love me, you'd buy me a hot cocoa" Ah, guilting people into buying things. Brilliant!
33.What is your favorite flower?
Peony. Living, not wilting.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
25 Facts About A Lazy Erin
1. I'm related to Edgar Allen Poe and come from multiple long lines of strong matriarchs (think Amazon). I should probably be taller, better at archery, and much more fond of opium than I am.
2. I'm not convinced that the "Push Here to Cross Street" buttons actually do anything.
3. I compose while I walk. I can actually tell which days I've been exercising by looking back over my blogs.
4. I recently realized the beauty that the mind and the heart cannot control each other.
5. I crochet like a mad woman.
6. If you imagine a star (or pentacle, if that's your thing) with the five points: Dvorak, Birkenstocks, Hornsby, Jane Austen, and Modest Mouse; I am in the center because my love for all five is equal. If you don't know what one of these five points are, you really need to hang out with me more.
7. My fingers and toes are never warm enough...which is nice in the summer, I guess.
8. I'm pretty good at soldering.
9. I have a wide variety of friends and have managed to keep them through multiple political elections because I refuse to talk about politics.
10. I used to refuse to talk about religion, but as my day job is fond of the topic (and some folks have recently been making assumptions again, sigh): I am agnostic with athiest and Buddhist leanings...more or less depending on the day. I spent my life getting here; I'm not interested in changing; and I will not be attending your church/chapel/synagogue/se....rvice/what-have-you, thanks.
11. Hot tubs: I have lived with them and I hope to do so again.
12. I seriously suck at crosswords. I'm working my way through a "Super-Duper Easy Crosswords!!" book and I'm still having to look in the back.
13. I read freakishly fast and enjoy trashy magazines. There is probably some lesson in there about pearls and swine...me the pearl and (everyone knows) Angelina Jolie as swine.
14. I'm in the process of auditioning for graduate school in Music Performance. I already have one master's degree. I'm apparently a grad school junkie.
15. I realized a few years ago I made all decisions based on fear. I've been working on it and am now down to about 40%.
16. I am terrifyingly motivated by logic...see #15 for the other 40% of my motivation.
17. I like Facebook and MySpace because when I actually hang out with everyone I know, I get dreadfully burnt out since I end up double- or triple-booking parties daily. This way, I can keep tabs on folks without the overload. If only you people would show up when I have parties! Those who do show up, thank you! you helped my transition into 30.
18. Though I used to enjoy it, I now really hate doing laundry. I'm fine with dishes.
19. I am constantly driven insane by my hair. No matter what length it is, it's annoying. I will sometimes have a fantasy of chopping it all off. Alas, I have chipmunk cheeks...
20. One high-school boyfriend bought me a cassette tape of one of my favorite bands: Live. But. He said I had to fast-forward through one of the songs because they said "shit." People who know me should find that pretty funny considering my language is often not suitable for minors.
21. I try to be as honest as I can. When I don't feel like doing something, I make myself say "well, I don't feel like it" instead of coming up with lame lies like "Oh, I can't that night because I've...um...got to watch...t.v.?" It wierd how our culture expects white lies for things that don't matter. When I started down the path of polite lies, I felt like a phony in everything I did.
22. My first-grade boyfriend stole my artwork and put his name on it. I was very angry (even though his mom made wicked good cookies) and since then I've been paranoid about plagerism. "Little boys stealing art" would be an awesome cover-band name.
23. I seem to be immune to cayenne pepper. I can eat the "super-hell-fire" sauce at Chicken Joe Bob's without warming up at all (while others start to sweat). Sadly, I'm not immune to any other type of spicy and I get whiny pretty quickly.
24. Twice I've been told that I should not play music (by teachers after a first lesson) and twice I've been called a bad influence. I'm more proud of the latter.
25. I sing badly loud a lot. I make up the songs. Sometimes they're about the cat, or the dishes, or peeing, whatever is going on at the moment that is song-worthy. I've actually sung about peeing a disturbingly high number of times. Hmm.
2. I'm not convinced that the "Push Here to Cross Street" buttons actually do anything.
3. I compose while I walk. I can actually tell which days I've been exercising by looking back over my blogs.
4. I recently realized the beauty that the mind and the heart cannot control each other.
5. I crochet like a mad woman.
6. If you imagine a star (or pentacle, if that's your thing) with the five points: Dvorak, Birkenstocks, Hornsby, Jane Austen, and Modest Mouse; I am in the center because my love for all five is equal. If you don't know what one of these five points are, you really need to hang out with me more.
7. My fingers and toes are never warm enough...which is nice in the summer, I guess.
8. I'm pretty good at soldering.
9. I have a wide variety of friends and have managed to keep them through multiple political elections because I refuse to talk about politics.
10. I used to refuse to talk about religion, but as my day job is fond of the topic (and some folks have recently been making assumptions again, sigh): I am agnostic with athiest and Buddhist leanings...more or less depending on the day. I spent my life getting here; I'm not interested in changing; and I will not be attending your church/chapel/synagogue/se....rvice/what-have-you, thanks.
11. Hot tubs: I have lived with them and I hope to do so again.
12. I seriously suck at crosswords. I'm working my way through a "Super-Duper Easy Crosswords!!" book and I'm still having to look in the back.
13. I read freakishly fast and enjoy trashy magazines. There is probably some lesson in there about pearls and swine...me the pearl and (everyone knows) Angelina Jolie as swine.
14. I'm in the process of auditioning for graduate school in Music Performance. I already have one master's degree. I'm apparently a grad school junkie.
15. I realized a few years ago I made all decisions based on fear. I've been working on it and am now down to about 40%.
16. I am terrifyingly motivated by logic...see #15 for the other 40% of my motivation.
17. I like Facebook and MySpace because when I actually hang out with everyone I know, I get dreadfully burnt out since I end up double- or triple-booking parties daily. This way, I can keep tabs on folks without the overload. If only you people would show up when I have parties! Those who do show up, thank you! you helped my transition into 30.
18. Though I used to enjoy it, I now really hate doing laundry. I'm fine with dishes.
19. I am constantly driven insane by my hair. No matter what length it is, it's annoying. I will sometimes have a fantasy of chopping it all off. Alas, I have chipmunk cheeks...
20. One high-school boyfriend bought me a cassette tape of one of my favorite bands: Live. But. He said I had to fast-forward through one of the songs because they said "shit." People who know me should find that pretty funny considering my language is often not suitable for minors.
21. I try to be as honest as I can. When I don't feel like doing something, I make myself say "well, I don't feel like it" instead of coming up with lame lies like "Oh, I can't that night because I've...um...got to watch...t.v.?" It wierd how our culture expects white lies for things that don't matter. When I started down the path of polite lies, I felt like a phony in everything I did.
22. My first-grade boyfriend stole my artwork and put his name on it. I was very angry (even though his mom made wicked good cookies) and since then I've been paranoid about plagerism. "Little boys stealing art" would be an awesome cover-band name.
23. I seem to be immune to cayenne pepper. I can eat the "super-hell-fire" sauce at Chicken Joe Bob's without warming up at all (while others start to sweat). Sadly, I'm not immune to any other type of spicy and I get whiny pretty quickly.
24. Twice I've been told that I should not play music (by teachers after a first lesson) and twice I've been called a bad influence. I'm more proud of the latter.
25. I sing badly loud a lot. I make up the songs. Sometimes they're about the cat, or the dishes, or peeing, whatever is going on at the moment that is song-worthy. I've actually sung about peeing a disturbingly high number of times. Hmm.
Friday, January 23, 2009
The Pain of Polyester
While riding the train the other day, I managed to damage myself. It wasn't in a fascinating way. It was when I tripped and fell against a staircase and managed to slice away a bit of my pinky. As the blood gushed out, I turned to look for what on god's green train had cut off my pinky part. There was nothing but plastic encased polyester. Being used to freak accidents, I quickly grabbed a tissue and wrapped up my damanged bit.
Right by my seat was a plastic-encased first aid kit behind a locked plastic door. I started to wonder about all the plastic-encased parts of the train. It's as if they don't want the passengers to get hurt or something. When the train dude walked by checking tickets, I embarrassedly mumbled that I needed a band-aid because I hurt myself on the stairs. He stared at me and said, "what?" I explained again, pointed to the scene of the damage and he ran his hand over the plastic and polyester. He came away unscathed and completely confused.
I asserted that I did fall, I did lose a bit of pinky, I needed a band-aid and that I routinely suffered freak accidents. After figuring out that I probably wouldn't be suing (unless he didn't hustle his ass over to the band-aid station), he started the process of releasing my band-aid from it multiple plastic prisons.
The main lesson I got from this is that I would not survive as a caveman. Or cavewoman. I suspect that the human lifespan significantly increased due to the invention of band-aids. And fingernail clippers. Between these two inventions, I'd say that human life more than doubled.
Fingernail clippers actually might be more important than band-aid in the continuation of life. This is becuase when you have a hangnail, there is no other possible solution to dealing with it other than fingernail clippers...unless you have a band-aid. Imagine being a caveperson (it's probably the politically correct term) and having a hangnail for, say, 10 months. It snags on everything, even things across the cave you were only looking at. There would be no fixing it, just one snaggy day after the other. All day. It'd get caught on your favorite berry tree, snag on your rock pillow, and catch on your rock scrubby-thing-that-is-a-rock-pretending-to-be-not-a-rock. Seriously, with this quality of life who wouldn't "accidentally" trip in front of the saber-toothed tiger?
This event was very much akin to the day I got a paper cut on my hand from a maxi pad. The universe is a strange place that circles black holes (a.k.a. compressed wool sweaters) and I routinely quote myself.
An Erinku:
mysterious calculator
actually two
a world without a
lack of calculator
Right by my seat was a plastic-encased first aid kit behind a locked plastic door. I started to wonder about all the plastic-encased parts of the train. It's as if they don't want the passengers to get hurt or something. When the train dude walked by checking tickets, I embarrassedly mumbled that I needed a band-aid because I hurt myself on the stairs. He stared at me and said, "what?" I explained again, pointed to the scene of the damage and he ran his hand over the plastic and polyester. He came away unscathed and completely confused.
I asserted that I did fall, I did lose a bit of pinky, I needed a band-aid and that I routinely suffered freak accidents. After figuring out that I probably wouldn't be suing (unless he didn't hustle his ass over to the band-aid station), he started the process of releasing my band-aid from it multiple plastic prisons.
The main lesson I got from this is that I would not survive as a caveman. Or cavewoman. I suspect that the human lifespan significantly increased due to the invention of band-aids. And fingernail clippers. Between these two inventions, I'd say that human life more than doubled.
Fingernail clippers actually might be more important than band-aid in the continuation of life. This is becuase when you have a hangnail, there is no other possible solution to dealing with it other than fingernail clippers...unless you have a band-aid. Imagine being a caveperson (it's probably the politically correct term) and having a hangnail for, say, 10 months. It snags on everything, even things across the cave you were only looking at. There would be no fixing it, just one snaggy day after the other. All day. It'd get caught on your favorite berry tree, snag on your rock pillow, and catch on your rock scrubby-thing-that-is-a-rock-pretending-to-be-not-a-rock. Seriously, with this quality of life who wouldn't "accidentally" trip in front of the saber-toothed tiger?
This event was very much akin to the day I got a paper cut on my hand from a maxi pad. The universe is a strange place that circles black holes (a.k.a. compressed wool sweaters) and I routinely quote myself.
An Erinku:
mysterious calculator
actually two
a world without a
lack of calculator
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Ruminations on Vomitations
While I do enjoy new experiences and breaking out of a routine, the whole food poisoning adventure I can really do without. For yet another magical event, I spent many hours alternating between water, pepto bismol, and brushing my teeth. While Dylan was excited I was home all day, he became grumpy that my multiple trips through the Hobbit Hole were not to:
a. give him a kitty treat, or
b. give him a kitty treat.
He eventually became uber cranky and started biting my ankles any time I passed him. I also had to be vigilant about him jumping on my tummy--one of many, many things that wasn't pleasant that day.
This classy event marked the end of a long weekend that had been fairly pleasant. I was away to Glenwood Springs (by train) and sat in hot tubs and pondered why I suck so much at my new video game "Big Brain Academy" which is solely designed to make you feel stupid. I did not stay in the insane-aslyum-hostel I'd been in before, nor did I have random people on acid/cocaine appear in my room, nor was there any week-old milk decomposing in the garbage can. No, I did not stay in the hostel and no, I did not miss it.
Alas, my story is boring. I think I puked up the best part of it. Alas.
Moral of today's story (a.k.a. fact of the day): ankle bites from cats take a little while to heal.
An Erinku:
O pepto
I weep
with joy
for your pinkness
a. give him a kitty treat, or
b. give him a kitty treat.
He eventually became uber cranky and started biting my ankles any time I passed him. I also had to be vigilant about him jumping on my tummy--one of many, many things that wasn't pleasant that day.
This classy event marked the end of a long weekend that had been fairly pleasant. I was away to Glenwood Springs (by train) and sat in hot tubs and pondered why I suck so much at my new video game "Big Brain Academy" which is solely designed to make you feel stupid. I did not stay in the insane-aslyum-hostel I'd been in before, nor did I have random people on acid/cocaine appear in my room, nor was there any week-old milk decomposing in the garbage can. No, I did not stay in the hostel and no, I did not miss it.
Alas, my story is boring. I think I puked up the best part of it. Alas.
Moral of today's story (a.k.a. fact of the day): ankle bites from cats take a little while to heal.
An Erinku:
O pepto
I weep
with joy
for your pinkness
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Clear Light of Morning
It starts off innocently enough. I'm practicing cello in front of a mirror (for technical reasons). I have a little glass of wine. Then I get distracted from playing because my hair looks stupid. I reach for the scissors and snip. Snip. Snip.
This same habit has been with me since I was little (the cutting of my hair, not the wine). Much like birds migrate annually, much like lemmings decide to see if they can bounce after a fall, I always managed to cut my hair right before school picture day. There are many pictures from growing up where I kinda tilted my head a little bit to the side to make my hair look straight.
So now I have some hair of varying lengths. And as I stared at myself in the mirror this morning, it crossed my mind that I should never have access to scissors, ever, because I keep doing stupid things like cutting my hair after a glass of wine. At least I've gotten better over the years cutting in a straight line. Sort of. If I kinda tip my head to the right a little. Sigh.
Moral of today's story: it's kinda self-evident, ERIN-DON'T CUT YOUR OWN HAIR!
An Erinku!
pink, plastic
kazoo
wrapped in
plastic
This same habit has been with me since I was little (the cutting of my hair, not the wine). Much like birds migrate annually, much like lemmings decide to see if they can bounce after a fall, I always managed to cut my hair right before school picture day. There are many pictures from growing up where I kinda tilted my head a little bit to the side to make my hair look straight.
So now I have some hair of varying lengths. And as I stared at myself in the mirror this morning, it crossed my mind that I should never have access to scissors, ever, because I keep doing stupid things like cutting my hair after a glass of wine. At least I've gotten better over the years cutting in a straight line. Sort of. If I kinda tip my head to the right a little. Sigh.
Moral of today's story: it's kinda self-evident, ERIN-DON'T CUT YOUR OWN HAIR!
An Erinku!
pink, plastic
kazoo
wrapped in
plastic
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Etiquette 101
On Friday, the bus gods frowned upon my journey. In between one of four separate bus trips home, I saw someone drop and break an entire case of beer. The resulting "NO!!!!!!" of yelling echoed my internal cry of something equally important: nacho etiquette.
As beer poured forth over the curb, I thought of how people don't respect the "Super Chip." The "Super Chip" is, of course, that chip buried under much nacho goodness. It's the cheesy one, or the one soaked in sour cream, or salsa or whatever version of nirvana that is each person's nacho.
The real rules for nachos are:
1. eat from the side facing you. As the nachos empty out, you can start to encroach on other nacho "encampments."
2. the "Super Chip" should be the last chip to be eaten.
3. you CANNOT eat the "Super Chip" twice in row...it must rotate.
These rules are inherently true and can never be broken. It's an agreement you make to be born into a human body.
There are people who break these rules. For these folk, I wish massive dismay. These folk eat the super chip every time or they'll eat it right at the beginning. THIS IS WRONG! DO NOT ATTEMPT! You will lose friends over this.
I feel I always lecture about the super chip. I've even written angst-ridden poems about someone who always ate the super chip (grr). This etiquette came up recently as my out-of-town friend came and had nachos with me. She recited the three rules of and brought up different violations she'd seen. It's tragic, really. While many people can list a few of the ten commandments, so many people break the three nacho rules. I do my part by spouting off in pubs like your typical end-of-the-world/nachos-girl.
An Erinku:
smoke
drifting daintily
from kitchen to here
alarm: worryingly silent
As beer poured forth over the curb, I thought of how people don't respect the "Super Chip." The "Super Chip" is, of course, that chip buried under much nacho goodness. It's the cheesy one, or the one soaked in sour cream, or salsa or whatever version of nirvana that is each person's nacho.
The real rules for nachos are:
1. eat from the side facing you. As the nachos empty out, you can start to encroach on other nacho "encampments."
2. the "Super Chip" should be the last chip to be eaten.
3. you CANNOT eat the "Super Chip" twice in row...it must rotate.
These rules are inherently true and can never be broken. It's an agreement you make to be born into a human body.
There are people who break these rules. For these folk, I wish massive dismay. These folk eat the super chip every time or they'll eat it right at the beginning. THIS IS WRONG! DO NOT ATTEMPT! You will lose friends over this.
I feel I always lecture about the super chip. I've even written angst-ridden poems about someone who always ate the super chip (grr). This etiquette came up recently as my out-of-town friend came and had nachos with me. She recited the three rules of and brought up different violations she'd seen. It's tragic, really. While many people can list a few of the ten commandments, so many people break the three nacho rules. I do my part by spouting off in pubs like your typical end-of-the-world/nachos-girl.
An Erinku:
smoke
drifting daintily
from kitchen to here
alarm: worryingly silent
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