Words of Wisdom

Look, the oven is either heated or not. Pre-heat is the same as cold. That's all I'm saying.

An Erinku:
my beer
is over
there
get it for me.

Facepalm Worthy

Yesterday, I was advised to "Stop being a good girl and start being yourself." I wanted to scream with temper. This is such an on-going topic that I can't come up with anything new to say on the subject: I'm not a good girl and I don't like tea. I'm going to trademark that and wear it on my chest. I might even put it on a t-shirt first.

While I was thinking of slogans today, I came up with my second self-slogan: Erin, standing up for herself since mid-2009! I stood up for myself AGAIN today. While I know this is an important skill, I'm thoroughly sick of the myriad of stand-up-for-myself-opportunities I've been receiving. Today, I had to very clearly articulate what I do and do not want in a scary-to-me scenario. Hmm. I can tell the boxed wine has kicked in as my vocabulary gets nicely large when I drink. "Nicely large" is not a good example of my engorged verbage.

Anyway, I'm a woman who has tamed her fierce inner critic, who is standing up for herself, who is contemplating various slogans, and who is drinking very bad cheap boxed wine. If I were to run into myself, I would not fuck with me. The good girl vibe is a complete facade: be disillusioned at your own risk.

An Erinku (fierce, like bear!):
boring pants
folded
into
boring shapes

Yep.

In addition to certain states that really annoy me, one of the most annoying things in the world is having a fax machine keep calling your phone. I answer with my pleasant, chirpy “Blah, blah, blaaaah, blah, blah, Erin!” only to get an urgent MEEEEEEEEP! MEEP MEEEEEEEEEEEP! of a fax machine trying to do its job. This happened all day today. The last time I answered, I just let the fax talk to the phone for a good several minutes before hanging up. I suspect I will have at least 10 voice mails from this same fax machine tonight.

And yes, not all states are created equally. It has recently come to my attention that there are, in fact, at least five annoying states. I’ve not been to these states, but recently new representatives from these places have barged in on my life and have affected my view of places never been. The Midwest and East Coast have some explaining to do.

I meant to be more creative today, butMEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! MEEEEEP MEEEEEP MEEEEEEEEEP!!!

Moral of today’s story: snow day tomorrow. Please. That’s all I really want right now, right after work on this Tuesday.

An Erinku:
ring, ring
meeeeeeep
meep
meeeeeep

Where Cookies Meet Religion

I am relentlessly amused by the dumbest things and sometimes those dumb things come out of my mouth/brain/junction where my mouth and brain meet (a.k.a. nose, I’m guessing?). For the last few months, I’ve been posing as a Born-Again Cookie Evangelist on various chat rooms. Whenever I feel it’s appropriate, I type things like: “I am a cookie evangelist and I preach the truth! Cookies are awesome!” And, today, “That's how the cookie crusades started: saying the love of cookies can only belong to one group of folks. And we don't speak of the horror of the raisin wars.”

When I’m confronted with skepticism, I quickly reply with, “Are you a cookie agnostic? Trust your faith. Cookies are perfection. Have you heard the good word about cookies? I think Buddha ate them.” My smart-assery at the very least amuses myself.

I’ve yet to score an official convert to the Born-Again Cookie Evangelist cause. If you would like to make a donation, I like chocolate chips. I don’t like raisins. Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are perfection in cookie form.

Moral of today’s story: If you eat cookie dough ice cream and then sit in the sun on a really hot day, do you think your tummy could be warm enough to cook the cookie dough? I think so.

An Erinku:
tummy
full of
hot cocoa / coffee
content


(both meanings of content are appropriate)

Short Bit of Dullness

Today's epiphany involved me realizing two things: the first is that I had an epiphany yesterday that is important (I can't live an bizarrely wierd lifestyle if I only have traditional rolemodels) and the second is that I have become THAT girl. Everyone knows one. THAT girl is the girl who gives you shit for not knowing the song on the radio. Or who the Weakerthans are. Or who Dohnanyi is. My snobbery knows no genre bounds. I'm also the girl who boycotts various companies and organizations...enough so that it's a bit of an ass-pain to go shopping with me.

My second epiphany today is that while I'm typing and listening to the Weakerthans and drinking coffee with some Butterscotch schnapps in it, I've still managed to avoid cleaning the bathroom. I hate cleaning the bathroom. Perhaps it's time to practice instead...

An Erinku (unlike a smurf in all but name, color, and cartoonness):
butterschnapps
in coffee
pretty
tasty

It is the sound...of beeping

In spite of being a beer (and coffee) snob, or connoisseur as one person put it, I will sometimes buy these things from a store. Coffee from the store is fine, but here in Colorado only bad beer is sold in the grocery stores (3.2% or less). The other day, I and my purchases made our way to the check-out. I picked the slowest moving lane in the hopes that irony would come to my aid and make it the fastest lane ever. Ironically enough, it was a slow lane.

When it was my turn for the ringing up, silence ensued. Occasional beeps happened as the checker very deliberately scanned each item. When he got to my bad beer, he asked for my i.d. since, “You look 21, but I need to make sure you’re 22.” So. He looked and more silence ensued.

Onion. Beep. Taquitos. Beep. Bananananas. Beep. He looked up and said, “Did you know you were born on a Saturday?” Beep. I replied, “Uh. No. Huh. I didn’t know that.” Beep. English muffins. Beep. Tomato. Beep. “The next time your birthday will be on a Saturday is in 2017. It would have been in 2012, except it’s a leap year.” Beep. “Any stamps or ice today?”

Moral of today’s story: I am sometimes freaked out/amazed by going to the grocery store.

An Erinku:
still covered in
Dylan’s fur
eight weeks
after the move

Questionable

I received an invitation a short while ago from my writing group and writing friends to take a "Writing Erotica" class with them. I was mildly interested because it's not a genre I've written in before. Sadly, I've not been able to take this class with my ucky schedule so far this fall, but I've already started writing my first sex scene. It goes like this: His manly pointy bit was aimed at her girly bit. Wiggling commenced.

I'm going to be famous. Get your autograph while I still talk to mere mortals.

An Erinku:
cold toes
fuzzy blanket
where's
MY BREAKFAST???

Loose Change

A few days ago, I celebrated my half-birthday. There was no party; I just took a while to think back on how completely different I am now than I was two years ago when I started this whirlwind of life change. A few days before the half-birthday, I jokingly said that 90% of everything has changed for me, especially in the last 18 months. Upon reflection, I’d like to up that number to about 93%. I still play cello, drink Hornsby’s, and have much love for Birkenstocks/Modest Mouse/Jane Austen. I still have Bubbles the fish (who is now nine years old…just how long do $3 fish live, anyway??) and I still crochet like a mad woman.

Right around two years ago, I made a conscious decision to make no decisions until after I turned 30. I was freaking out big time about that birthday and was feeling like a colossal failure. I didn’t want to choose a life course based on freak-out-fear, so I gave myself a good six month bubble of non-decision time. I’d just joined an orchestra (after an eight-year orchestra break). I had my long hair and had lost about 25 lbs. at that point, so I was dressed in slightly-baggy, mis-matched clothes (this would of course become more and more weight lost and much more baggier clothes before the great make-over happened). I had been stuck in a small rut for three years at that point and a rather large rut for about seven years.

So. Big changes have came along and if I were to see life snapshots from then and now, I wouldn’t believe I’d been in either life; the gap is that large. For all those who’ve helped me adjust to my constant state of death and angst, watched me cry in my beer, or who have chased off god-talk people when I was freaking out: thank you. May you always get the lollipop flavor you desire! For all those who’ve made the transition harder: don’t worry. You’ll just keep having an inclination to cut lemons right after you get paper cuts….for the rest of your life. No big deal.

And now 32 looms ahead. The Daily Adventure Force remains undimmed (and has been in constant use since I was, oh, 12 or 13 I think?). I feel like I’ve finished with the spring cleaning of my life. And I also feel I should be practicing. And I should be, yikes!

An Erinku (stolen from my “Death & Angst” book from years ago):
I’ve had that
philodendron for
twelve years.
It’s not dead.