6/30/2004 11:51:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|This morning, I stopped to get gas. When I took the gas cap off of my tank, I dropped it and it rolled under my car.
"Sonofabitch" I muttered, crouching to peer beneath the car.
I looked around. What would I do?
And then, I saw it...the window cleaning wand. I smiled.
I grabbed it, squeezed the blue window cleaner, and reached under my car with it.
Ah! Victory is mine!
All I needed was a package of chewy mints and a cheesy grin.|W|P|108861434247611079|W|P|The freshmaker!|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/29/2004 01:01:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I decided to pledge 25 books for the summer reading program. That's about two books per week. I think this is more than reasonable. Maybe I'll offer mini-reviews as I read them, keeping my faithful readers updated on my progress.
I just started Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood. I adore Margaret Atwood.|W|P|108853213652369536|W|P|Reading Rainbow|W|Pemail@example.com/29/2004 12:48:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Well, this is certainly going on my must-see list:
Clerical Errors: a new documentary questions the Catholic Church's views on celibacy
The basic contention of Celibacy, a new documentary by the Emmy-winning director Antony Thomas (tonight at 10 p.m. ET on HBO), is that sexuality is the Galileo of today's Roman Catholic Church.
I'll have to get the parents to tape it for me...
Thanks to Stephanie, for bringing it to my attention!|W|P|108853132223014238|W|P|Must-see TV|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/29/2004 09:51:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Erin v. the Big Cat, part XXVII
As most of you probably know, my roommie has two cats. I enjoy the cats. They're cute. They're entertaining.
But in the morning? They drive me crazy.
Since I'm usually the first one up in the morning, I give them their morning food. The second I open my bedroom door, they're right there, looking hungrily at me. Pathetically mewing. Running to the kitchen and gazing longingly at the food.
Sometimes I feed them immediately. Sometimes I make them wait until I'm dressed. On the days I make them wait, it's an endless game. Every time a door opens, they run. Sometimes they follow me into the bathroom.
Now Simba...Simba is a BIG cat. I'm not sure exactly how big, but I'm going to say over 20 pounds. Sasha is a normal sized housecat, but looks positively kitten-like in comparison. When I feed them, I have to shove Simba out of the way. He doesn't seem to understand that I can't pour the food in the dish if he's blocking it.
Fairly recently, we noticed something. The cats have two separate dishes. Both dishes are filled. Typically, the cats will eat some, leave, then come back and eat some more. But the greedy big cat, we've found, will return and eat ALL the food before the little one comes back. So we've taken to hiding the second dish and feeding it to Sasha in secret.
This does not please Simba. Not at all.
Yesterday, before I left for my tutoring job, they were both begging for food. I knew it wasn't time for them to eat, but I also knew that there was food left in Sasha's dish. I figured the poor kid was probably hungry, so I brought the dish onto the sun porch and closed the door so he could finish.
Simba was absolutely pathetic. He meowed. He scratched at the door. He paced back and forth in the kitchen.
Now, this morning, I was confused by the fact that they weren't begging for food when I got up. Hm. I figured maybe they were sleeping. Jen was asleep on the futon.
After I got dressed, Simba came up to me in the hall and gave me his "I want food" meow. I still wasn't completely positive that Jen hadn't given them food, so I gave them small portions...but both cats came running.
I walked into the living room, and Jen said "I fed them at 5."
So I went back into the kitchen and put both food dishes up, and said "Simba, you are a bad, bad kitty."
I will not be outwitted by a cat. ;)|W|P|108852075415711000|W|P|No kitty, that's a BAD KITTY|W|Pemail@example.com/28/2004 09:17:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|While working at one of my substitute teaching jobs, I had cafeteria duty. I watched the kids doing the high school thing...boys being stupid. Girls being catty. Boys and girls flirting. Etc. Etc.
I remarked to the teacher I was on duty with that, "You couldn't pay me enough to go back to high school."
"Really?" he said. "I'd go back in a minute."
I smiled politely and ended the conversation.
I didn't have a horrible high school experience, I suppose. It was pretty much normal. Well, there was the emotionally abusive ex-boyfriend who consumed the better part of it. There were nasty girls in the class above mine who wanted me dead. Well, maybe not dead, but definitely suffering...and suffer I did. I shed a LOT of tears my junior year.
I was reading a recent post over at Stephanie's blog about prom that got me to thinking about those girls.
See, I was on the cheerleading squad. My mom was advisor to the junior high cheerleaders, and acted as a judge during tryout time. Near the end of my sophomore year, tryouts were held for the varsity squad. A group of these girls, who would be seniors in the fall, were trying out. They hated me. Loathed me. Despised me. But, knowing that my mom would be (partially) holding their little cheerleaderly fates in her hands, they put on a good face.
Not that I didn't know better. Mostly.
See, I was naive enough to believe that one of these girls (Micky) could be trusted. I thought that we were, in some small way, friends.
A group of these girls had a class with Stephanie. She overheard them talking shit about me one day, and told me. I made the mistake of thinking I could trust Micky and asked her about what was said. (You know, I don't even remember what it was that was said...) I thought that it was in confidence. I didn't think she'd tell anyome.
Micky, of course, told them all.
The next day, Holly (the most dramatic of all drama queens) came up to me all weepy and apologetic.
"I don't know what you heard, but I would never say those things about you."
Or something like that.
I felt terrible about this. Horrible. Steph, if I never apologized for being such an idiot, I'm sorry!
And like I said, you couldn't pay me enough to go back to high school...
|W|P|108847692601226967|W|P|School's out for summer|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/28/2004 01:08:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Jen wants to be a slithery reptile...I'd be overjoyed to be a crawly amphibian. :)
See the TTLB link on my sidebar for more info!|W|P|108844622404049400|W|P|Link me, baby!|W|Pemail@example.com/28/2004 12:28:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Curtis, over at Singing Loudly, was talking about this article at Askmen.com.
Oh, I have so manythings to say about this article that I don't even know where to begin.
He begins the article by talking about that question every woman has asked..."Does ----- make me look fat?"
No matter what you say, it will be the wrong answer. She already knows she looks fat or she wouldn't be asking you the question in the first place. But if you fib and tell her she looks skinny, she knows it's not the truth -- and she'll punish you not only for lying to her, but also for noticing that she's been packing on the pounds.
BZZZZZZZ. Wrong answer. Yes, it might be an unfair question. But here's the REAL truth. Sometimes we're insecure. We just want to know that you think we're beautiful. If your wife/girlfriend asks you this question, take her in your arms, look her in the eyes and say "I think you look beautiful."
And mean it.
I've been the victim of mind games more often than I've been the player. It's not fun. But do you see me writing articles all about the mind games men play? Nope.
Mr. Fitzgerald takes women to task for "wearing sexy clothes" and then getting pissed off when they notice.
Let me start by saying that I hardly wear provocative clothing. You won't see me in any midriff-baring tops and micro minis. I occasionally wear a top that shows a bit of cleavage, and I admit, I enjoy attracting a bit of attention. But let me be clear about this...the fact that I like the attention does NOT necessarily mean that I want to go home with you.
Next, he goes on to talk about not calling, and playing "hard to get."
No phone call
She'll give out her number with no intention of dating you. Or she'll take your number and never call you.
What's her mind game?: This is another bid for power. She just wants to reassure herself that she can control men with her sexuality.
Ladies, please raise your hand if you've ever given a guy your number and then never heard from him again. Or worse, if you've actually gone on a date or two and then POOF! It's the magical disappearing act.
Now, here's my REAL favorite part:
She wants to go to the most expensive restaurant, the most exclusive club, the hottest play -- and expects you to fund the whole thing without a whimper.
What's her mind game?: She's aware that you know that if you don't fork over the cash, you won't have a prayer of getting her into bed. To make matters worse, she might even do this if she has unequivocally no intention of having sex with you. Woe to you if you've already proven to her that you're desperate for sex -- your credit card is going to be smoking.
For the record, I have never, ever, EVER done this. Ever. We're not all money-grubbing manipulative golddiggers. We don't all use sex as a weapon. I don't care about this stuff. Yeah, an occasional dinner at a fancy restaurant, or play, or whatever might be nice. I could care less about exclusive clubs, and probably would never date someone who did.
She gets you hot and bothered and then backs off, or otherwise restricts access to sex.
What's her mind game?: This is a perfect example of manipulation and exultation of her sexual power over you, plain and simple. She might also play this game to extract more cash from your wallet (see previous point).
I'm not even sure where to go with this one. Fitzgerald puts this in the "dating" category, so I'm not sure at what point of "dating" we're talking about. You're actually saying that if a woman backs off from sex, at any point after getting you "hot and bothered," it's about playing a mind game? She couldn't have, oh, I dunno, changed her mind?
He ends on this note:
Unfortunately, these mind games are a reality. If women would learn to respect men and honestly communicate instead of expecting us to guess what they're thinking or manipulate us, this would be a much better dating world. But it's up to us men to turn the situation around.
Or maybe you need to try dating different women? We're not all like the image you've portrayed, Mr. Fitzgerald. Try walking away from those shallow, manipulative barbie dolls you meet at the clubs and you might find a completely different world.|W|P|108844378280336947|W|P|Love is a Battlefield |W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/28/2004 08:41:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|This morning, it was my intention to get up early to get to the DMV at 8 (or shortly thereafter) so I could take care of my registration before work. (procrastinate much? sigh...it's the story of my life...)
I got there at 8:30 (which is, technically, when I'm supposed to be at work...), and miracle of miracles, there was only ONE other person there! He was just leaving as I arrived, so I just walked straight up to the window, waiting for the clerk to indicate that she was ready for me.
"Can I help you?"
"Registration," I say.
"Okay. You really should have been in line, though"
I look around, puzzled. "What?"
"The ropes, right there?" She points to the mazelike black ropes, that would normally be filled with people.
Is she kidding? I search her face for signs of humor...because, as we all know, DMV clerks must relinquish any sense of humor upon hiring. If she is kidding, I see no indication.
I half smile, and kind of shrug, and she proceeds with the processing of my registration.
But other than this puzzling little exchange, it is the quickest, most painless trip to the DMV I've ever had...|W|P|108843013127107644|W|P|Why I love the DMV|W|Pemail@example.com/27/2004 10:07:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Check out this little blurb, the latest in the "who wrote Shakespeare" debate:
Was Shakespeare a She?
Oh, and I forgot to mention the Shakespeare in Delaware Park t-shirt I desperately want:
Heehee...|W|P|108834896170590354|W|P|Unsolved mysteries|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/27/2004 09:22:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I've had so many thought swimming through my head these past couple of days...I'm probably not going to manage to get them all down!
Yesterday, ah...it was marvelous. Amazing. Please see all things jen(nifer) for more details. :) I did not enjoy lovely Elmwood yesterday with her, as I was entertaining my little. I was surprised at how easy that was. I was actually concerned because I didn't have real plan. I had originally planned to bring her here last Monday for dinner, but then it was the worst. day. ever. So I went with Saturday...figuring we could watch a movie, play some games.
She was so excited. She loved my apartment, and just couldn't get over how big and nice it was. When she saw the DVD player, she asked me if she could watch her new B2K DVD that came with the CD she just bought...so I got schooled on who the "finest" member of B2K is. ;) We tried to play Clue, before remembering that Clue sucks with two people, and then we played Connect 4. We went over to ghetto Rite-Aid to get some snacks, watched part of a movie on Disney (The Even Stevens Movie, thank you...), and then I let her play on the computer for a while.
"Your house is so fun." she told me on the way home. "I could never get bored."
So then, of course, Jen and I went to see Shakespeare. One day, I will remember that, no matter how nice out it is when I leave for Shakespeare, it gets COLD when the sun goes down. Brr. But the play was wonderful. I was a little ambivalent about it...I don't know the histories, and wasn't sure if I would care about Henry IV at all...but hot looking talented men always make things more interesting. ;)
The wedding taking place at the Casino was sort of loud and rowdy, but they definitely sounded like they were having fun. I felt a little strange giggling uncontrollably during the Dramatic Climax! of Henry IV, Part I because I recognized the bridge of Firehouse's Love of a Lifetime wafting over from the reception.
It had to be a joke, right? No one, in 2004, wants this song played at their wedding for real, right? I'm going to pretend that's what it was...the bride confessed that, when she was in high school, she wanted it to be her wedding song, and so the groom secretly had the DJ play it for her. Yeah, that's definitely it...
And now it's a lazy Sunday morning. I'm trying to decide which book I should read next. I have a pile of at least four...plus six or eight that Jen has...plus the four I just requested from the library...oh, what I wouldn't do for a couple of weeks to do nothing but read, read, read.
No jobs for me in the paper this week. Keep thinking good thoughts for me on the Catholic school job I just interviewed for. I want a classroom so bad I can taste it.
:)|W|P|108834755113826139|W|P|Weekend ramblings|W|Pemail@example.com/26/2004 09:23:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|These always amuse me so much. Here are the last ten google/yahoo searches that brought people to erin-go-blog!
Google: brian blog takac
Google: norm mattar
Yahoo: eln2004 firstname.lastname@example.org (I'd love tto know about this one...you were obviously looking for me!)
Google: psychic lilydale
Google: erin wee blogspot
Google: Lilydale Blog
Google: Scajaquada Jack Alligator
Google: jackdaw great music buffalo
Google: jackdaw college radio
|W|P|108825993831364283|W|P|Tell me how YOU got here...|W|Pemail@example.com/25/2004 09:20:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Gah. I awake this morning to hear the morning radio guys asking their high school
intern about his prom. He took a friend (apparently hoping that she would become a "friend"), and they all went up to someone's cabin in Canada. Well, our young friend said "Actually, I don't know if she's speaking to me anymore."And why, pray tell? Because the punk ass LEFT HIS DATE IN CANADA, apparently because he was miffed about not getting any. Can't they be trained better than this?
|W|P|108817324956370158|W|P|Like a prom dress|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/25/2004 09:03:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|As per the suggestion of Singing Loudly, I bring you magic erin-go-blog!
Post a comment. Ask me anything, (same rules apply, questions must be answerable by a yes/no reply) and I will supply you with a randomly generated answer.
:)|W|P|108817224444863717|W|P|Who needs Magic 8-Ball?|W|Pemail@example.com/24/2004 12:54:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Some random observations for today...
1. I am really, really antsy about the job I interviewed for the other day. I want to hear from them, like, now.
2. It is crazy windy outside. I almost blew away walking across the street to pick up Artvoice.
3. Gray hairs are annoying. Particularly when they are short, wiry, and silver, and they like to poke up out of your part for all the world to see.
4. My job is boring, and it doesn't pay enough.
5. My office building is testing the fire alarms today. It's incredibly irritating.
6. Someone burned microwave popcorn. The smell is making me ill.
7. There are a lot of things I enjoy about Slate.com, but one of my favorites has to be reading the Dear Prudence column on Thursdays. I believe it was Stephanie who got me hooked on this one. Thanks, Stephanie! :)
8. I am nerdily excited about participating in the summer reading program at my second job, the tutoring job. I have to decide how many books I'm going to pledge to read! :)|W|P|108809970712575695|W|P|Randomments|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/24/2004 09:18:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|As per the request of all things jen(nifer), I've been pondering my "top 5."
This is really, really difficult. Mine tends to shift, depending on how recently I've seen one of these guys IN something. And I could easily make a top 5 of only musicians...
But these are pretty much the constants:
yep, Jen and I share a love of the Ewan. Especially when he sings. Mmmm...
Oh, how I adored Aidan. Stupid, stupid Carrie...
I loved him as Lloyd Dobbler, and I love him still...
Whether playing a sexy spy or a sexy English teacher, I can't get enough of him...
The "musicians only" list:
I share many of these in common with Jen, although sometimes our lust does go in different directions.
Lawrence Nichols (Lowest of the Low)
(the loveable dork...what can I say...although I DO agree that Ron is yummy!)
Alan Doyle and Sean McCann (Great Big Sea)
Oh, where to look when these boys are on stage...
Jon Bon Jovi (duh...)
I admit, in my youth, Richie was the object of my affection, but the years have been good to you, Jon...
Carter (Carbon Leaf)
And oh, yeah...can't forget my Jackdaw boys...but it just seems strange to put someone on the "list" that I know in real life!
The inappropriately-old-enough-to-be-my-father list:
Who's your Spy Daddy? heehee.
I turn into a puddle of goo when this guy sings.
So there you have it. I may add links later, if I feel so inspired. ;)|W|P|108808676520751697|W|P|The list|W|Pemail@example.com/23/2004 07:53:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Ok, so I don't really know what "minty" means, exactly, but it looked so fun. :)
Thanks to all things jen(nifer) for the link!|W|P|108803842739661403|W|P|My mood is:|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/23/2004 11:46:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Well, it's been a while since I've been on a good church rant, eh?
Catholic Listserv to the rescue!
In my inbox today was this story (yes, the Albany saga continues) with the subject line:
Albany-Homosexual environment noted.
Oh, boy. Here we go again.
This time, the attorney actually did mention the problem, as he sees it:
"I don't have a problem with anyone being a homosexual, but in the diocese it's a problem because the gay priests are afraid to tell on the pedophiles out of fear of being outed by them," he added.
Indeed, that is a problem.
But why don't we get down to the real problem?
The Church insists on hanging on to this archaic notion that celibacy is a good idea. It's not. I daresay it's unnatural.
And can we please stop pretending that has anything to do with holiness or one's relationship to God, and admit that it's about money and land ownership? Or at least it was...
I don't think I need to say again that gay DOES NOT EQUAL pedophile. So many people can't seem to grasp that concept...but that's not the point. I do however, have this theory about people with what might be considered "unnatural" or "perverse" sexual inclinations (to the Church, homosexuality...to, well, pretty much everyone, pedophilia) being drawn to the priesthood believing that they can hide or quelch their desires.
Yeah. Like that's going to work.
So you put together the Church's utter inability to change or admit mistakes with a massive priest shortage, and what do you get?
Cover-ups. Scandal. Really, really bad shit.
And ever-so-timely to my latest rant is this article from the Buffalo News about celibacy and the priesthood. I haven't given it a careful reading yet, but it talks about a number of Catholic men who were drawn to a life of service to God, but still wanted to marry and have families.
So they became Episcopalians.
I think this is a trend that is not only going to affect potential priests, but parishioners in general. The Catholic Church needs a serious wakeup call. It is no longer a world power. How many young priests do YOU see?
Ordain women. Drop the celibacy bit. Otherwise, quit the whining about the lack of vocations. And for crying out loud, get rid of the pedophiles and those who helped them get away with it. Without giving them jobs in Rome...|W|P|108801111329060152|W|P|Now where did I put that soapbox?|W|Pemail@example.com/22/2004 09:42:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Decides? It is written.
I loved Ros 'n Guil. Although a rereading of Hamlet may have been in order, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I'd love to see it.
Another line I enjoyed:
We only know what we're told, and that's little enough. And for all we know it isn't even true.|W|P|108795896194310672|W|P|Who decides?|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/22/2004 09:38:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Okay, bloggers and blogfans. I need your help.
Back in the mid-to-late 80s, there was a sitcom on cable about a young teenage girl who was half alien. She had various powers, such as the ability to freeze time. Sort of a precursor to Sabrina the Teenage Witch, I guess...her father was the alien, and she communicated with him through...oh, I don't know, some sort of book or box or something that she kept in her bedroom.
This was the theme song:
Would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?
And be better off than you are?
You could be swingin' on a star....
Every once in a while, I remember this show, and I cannot for the life of me remember what the name of it was. Someone out there in the blogosphere has to have seen it...|W|P|108795852527395055|W|P|You could be swingin' on a star...|W|Pemail@example.com/22/2004 09:35:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Ray, I'm trying to help you out here, but the truth is, I'm just not sure...
craptastic is either a TWoPism, or it is courtesy of my close, personal friends the snarkers.
and skeevy? I haven't a clue. Anyone know?|W|P|108795823864714406|W|P|Where credit is due|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/22/2004 02:30:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Not really. But this is a fun quiz:
Take the quiz: "Which Random Irish Gaelic Phrase Are You? "
Ta me air meisce
Ta me air meisce - 'I am drunk.'You enjoy a drink - or five - now and then. You can usually be found in a pub - it doesn't matter which one, because they all look the same after a few drinks - or hugging the porcelain.
One of the things I found most amusing...in the question that is about song lyrics, all all of the responses are from Great Big Sea. Whee!
Thanks, Stephanie!|W|P|108793271009910631|W|P|I am drunk|W|Pemail@example.com/22/2004 11:21:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I've often said that job interviews are like dating. And, this shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who knows me well, I'm not terribly fond of either.
You get dressed to impress. You put on your best face, make sure to say the right thing, use the right body language, smile and nod in all the right places. At the end, you part ways and hope for a phone call.
And you wait. You hope that they don't meet someone else that they like better.
Or sometimes, it just doesn't feel right, and you actually hope that they don't call at all.
To take the analogy a little bit further, job searching while you have a job feels a little bit like cheating, doesn't it? Secretive phone calls. Vague excuses for your whereabouts. "Oh, I was...at an appointment."
And when you leave a job, it's kind of like breaking up. Getting fired, for instance, has a lot in common with getting dumped. Quitting voluntarily is like saying "It's not you, it's me. I've outgrown this relationship, and I need to move on." And on rare occasions, both parties involved mutually agree to part ways, and the split is amicable.
More than once, I've run into someone I knew from a job that "dumped" me, and it was every bit as uncomfortable as running into an ex-boyfriend. What to do...do I lie, and tell them all about my fabulous new job? Do I say nothing, just smile and exchange pleasantries and be on my way?
All of this pondering was inspired by my interview this morning. I think it went well. It's certainly not "the one," but it could be a decent start to my teaching career. Freshman and sophomore English. I got a copy of their summer reading list...could be more to add to my ever-growing list! I started "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead," so as to form my own opinion of it...and I still have to read "The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds," not to mention the five other books that Jen has that I want to read! I need a few more hours in the day...|W|P|108792139726682937|W|P|How job hunting is like dating|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/22/2004 08:05:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I awoke this morning to hear Shredd and Ragan (local morning show guys) talking about strip clubs. Something about Kid Rock going all wussy and saying something to the effect of "You shouldn't go to strip clubs when you have a girlfriend."
There was a time when I would have agreed...because erin-go-blog naively believed that "it's not like anything happens at a strip club. They're just looking at the naked chicks. There's no harm in looking..."
I still believe this (rationally, of course...however, I become completely irrational when my jealous streak sets in), but my attitude changed a little bit when assboy made that infamous confession.
A girlfriend's worst fear. There IS more than looking going on in those skeevy little private rooms.
Isn't this prostitution?
Maybe, as my good friend makes the case for, if prostitution were legal, there wouldn't be a need for the skeevy back rooms.
On the other hand, maybe my lovely ex would have just straight out gone to a hooker instead...
There are some, I know, who don't believe this is a true betrayal. Maybe not...I don't think it has quite the same significance as, oh, sneaking around behind my back and sleeping with a "friend" (ew. maybe that's why I find those Molson ads so obnoxious...) and then lying about it for months and THEN coming clean about everything. But still. I felt betrayed. My trust was broken...I hope not for good.|W|P|108791044536881303|W|P|Wakeup call|W|Pemail@example.com/21/2004 04:11:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|life seems so hard, but today I can�t complain.
so one more drink to make it all go away.
Hit the Floor
Ever get tired of drinkin? NO!
and even though this has nothing to do with my mood today, nothing, nothing beats belting out:
Rejection is one thing but rejection from a fool is cruel!
Proofrock|W|P|108785263527274056|W|P|Thank you, Jackdaw|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/21/2004 12:29:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|1. Silly stories about potential futures penned by my roommie.
2. Comments. Thanks for caring. :)
3. Emails from friends who live too far away.
4. Emails from other people who live too far away...
(patience, my friends...)
5. Learning that a new person has linked me!
(I'll be adding a link later, when I'm not on such a craptastic computer)|W|P|108783931599734017|W|P|Things that make me smile on a crappy day...|W|Pemail@example.com/21/2004 09:51:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Someday I will have a real job.
Someday I will not live paycheck-to-paycheck.
Someday the news that I need new brake pads in order to pass inspection will not be a cause for panic.
Someday I will pay off the evil credit card.
But not today.|W|P|108782967772867561|W|P|Someday...|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/20/2004 06:17:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|To my own dad, and any other dads who might happen to be reading. Thank you!|W|P|108777347115420831|W|P|Happy Father's Day!|W|Pemail@example.com/20/2004 06:13:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|This will be brief. :)
I finished "Portrait." Finally. I'm kind of indifferent about it. I feel better for having read it, understand its greater cultural significance, but I can't say that I'm in any great hurry to read more Joyce.
The last section, I thought, made for much more interesting reading. I was bored during the whole depiction of hell that was Chapter 3. Chapter 4 put me to sleep. Literally. (I attempted to finish the book last night, but fell asleep on the couch instead.)|W|P|108777343481114969|W|P|Musings on Joyce|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/20/2004 06:11:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|She said...|W|P|108777314229557999|W|P|Why are you so far away?|W|Pemail@example.com/19/2004 07:35:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I heard this story on the radio the other day, meant to write about it, and forgot until happening upon this silly VH1 show about sex:
Scott Stapp has a tip for strippers: pay me
We could make fun of the artists, suing over strippers not paying for their music. But I'd rather turn your attention to this:
Fifteen songs that the club is said to have used "without a license or permission to do so" are cited in the suit, filed in Florida's U.S. Middle District Court in Tampa. They include Jackson's "Black Cat," Creed's "My Sacrifice," Slaughter's "Fly to the Angels," and Poison's "Nothin' But a Good Time" and "Unskinny Bop."
Ok, the Poison songs, I get. "Black Cat," I get.
But who the hell is stripping to "My Sacrifice"? and "Fly to the Angels"???
Here are some songs that, IMHO, would make much better dance tunes:
1. Aerosmith, Love in an Elevator and Rag Doll
2. Van Halen, Hot for Teacher
3. INXS, Need You Tonight
4. Sam the Sham, Little Red Riding Hood
5. No Doubt, Hella Good
But maybe that's just me. ;)|W|P|108769211329199592|W|P|My sacrifice?|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/19/2004 05:52:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Ha...
US Weekly is an entertaining read. I'll give it that.
But of particular interest this week was the "Romance Report." It featured four celebrity couples, Demi & Ashton, Cameron & Justin, Renee & Jack, and Drew & Strokes drummer guy.
Amd what caught my attention about this?
All the women are older than their guys.
Demi is 41, Ashton is 26. (I still have a hard time taking these two seriously. And it's rumored that they're talking about a kabbalah wedding. Oy, vey.)
Cameron is 31, Justin is 23. (also questionable. Really, keep trying to convince me that Justin likes girls.)
Renee is 35, Jack is 28.
Drew is 29, Fabrizio is 24.
I said aloud to Jen, "did you notice that all the women are older?"
"No," she replied. "Only you would notice that."
Me: (on the computer, blogging about this fact) clickety clickety click.
Jen: (to the cats) "Erin is funny."|W|P|108768590589146222|W|P|Thanks, US Weekly!|W|Pemail@example.com/19/2004 04:12:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|All right people, here's the deal...
I started playing around with the new blogger templates yesterday. I thought it was time for a new look. I am, however, struggling a bit with the html coding. My links are giving me the most trouble.
But that's not the point...I'm sure I'll be able to fix that with some tinkering. No, my question is this...does erin-go-blog need a new name to go with the new look? I was toying with "Full of Sound and Fury." Please share your thoughts.
|W|P|108767966869319531|W|P|A poll|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/19/2004 04:05:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|My new gmail account is sad. No one loves it. :(
It's a lazy, lazy kind of weekend. This morning, I finally got the stupid crack in my stupid windshield fixed. Picked up a bunch of used paperbacks at a thrift store. I love this! Three for $1. Jen bought...well, I'll let her tell you what she bought!
We almost burned the house down last night cooking dinner. Important safety tip (TM Ray):
Do not, I repeat, do NOT set a paper plate on your gas stovetop and then accidentally turn on the wrong burner.
It's not pretty. Extra crispy bacon, anyone? :)
Jen and I were almost horrified to realize that we were quite content to say in our cozy little apartment, reading, watching movies, and generally lounging around on a Friday night.
Whatever has become of us?
I guess that's all. I'll be back when I have something of note to post...|W|P|108767950457298468|W|P|Where's the love?|W|Pemail@example.com/18/2004 10:08:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I like him, I really like him.
Pluck me naked as a scalded chicken,
I like him!
Don't ask me for why or wherefore,
'Cause I don't have a single good
"Because" or "therefore!"
You can barbecue my nose.
Make a giblet of my toes,
Make me freeze, make me fry.
Make me sigh, make me cry.
Still I'll yell to the sky,
Though I can't tell you why.
That I like him...
|W|P|108757141482811177|W|P|Tilting at windmills?|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/18/2004 01:25:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|GoFish is now Pesky Apostrophe. Carry on.|W|P|108758315409281789|W|P|Attention, blog fans|W|Pemail@example.com/18/2004 12:43:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|This little ditty in the Buzz section of the Buffalo News was brought to my attention yesterday:
Let's say the angels have told you that you have one day left to live. You will be allowed one last huge meal of wings and beer-battered haddock and sweet potato fries, and then you will pass through the looking glass, and that will be that. Any Buffalonian's natural question: Can I use a coupon? Well, for the last meal, you're on your own. But for the death part, the Catholic Cemeteries have anticipated your question. The cemeteries slipped a coupon into the Western New York Catholic newspaper trumpeting: "Buy One Grave, Get One Free." Ha, ha! Only in Buffalo. Just one question: What if the coupon expires before we do?
Hehe. Although I consulted the supplement, and I do believe the ad in question is one for "10% off your burial space."
But still...|W|P|108756993431072474|W|P|Death, 50 percent off |W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/17/2004 05:15:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|This post on age-appropriate dating over at Mediocrity's Co-Pilot got me to thinking...does the same mathematical rule apply to women? Spencer says "why not?"
But I know that there does seem to be some kind of societal taboo about women dating younger guys. I wouldn't think twice about dating a guy 7-8-9 years older than me...(although that does enter into the question of whether or not one should date men in their late 30s who have never been married. I've had this conversation with a few people who say no, absolutely not...because they're likely to be either unapologetically single with no intention of settling down, or have some deep dark aversion to commitment. Anyway...)
However, I start feeling a little weird about the prospect of dating a younger guy...why is that?|W|P|108749947747063736|W|P|Couldn't escape if I wanted to...|W|Pemail@example.com/17/2004 03:36:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|So yesterday was Bloomsday...as you may have read in all things jen(nifer), we began reading "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" the other night. She finished. I didn't...yet.
See, neither of us had previously read any Joyce, and we were told to start with "Portrait" and "Dubliners" before attempting to tackle "Ulysses." I just so happened to have two paperback copies of "Portrait" on hand. (Yard sales and thrift stores are beautiful things...)
In addition to "celebrating" Bloomsday, this effort is part of my "I need to read more classic literature because now I'm an English teacher" quest.
I meant to finish it last night, but had an awful headache. But I did listen to some brick-throwing Celtic rock. That must count for something...|W|P|108749435035545082|W|P|A dollar short|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/17/2004 12:33:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I find that songs have an odd way of working themselves into my consciousness. Sure, everyone has the experience of hearing a song and getting it stuck in your head for hours, days, weeks...
But what about those times when you didn't even hear the song?
The other morning, while getting ready for work, I found myself singing "Fresh." Kool and the Gang.
I know I have not heard this song at any time in the recent past.
And then I remember...it started when I was making my sandwich for lunch. I opened a brand new loaf of very fresh bread. I thought "I love fresh bread."
And there you go.
A while back, I had bought some hair gel from the Loreal studio line for straight hair. It was called (go on, guess...)
It took me weeks to figure out why I was walking around singing "Do do ya love me" in the morning.
More recently, I bought some of those Brilliant Brunette hair products. Somehow, this morphed into Bruce Springsteen's "Brilliant Disguise."
And don't even get me started on Venus...|W|P|108748316021216069|W|P|Straight up, now tell me...|W|Pemail@example.com/16/2004 09:15:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I left my tutoring job this evening with the worst sweet tooth ever. Before I tell this story, you should know that I've become addicted to vanilla ice cream with caramel syrup. This is not really a new thing...it's what I always get at Dairy Queen...but a few weeks ago, I bought a quart of vanilla ice cream and I've been eating that whenever I get the hankerin' for something sweet. I ran out of ice cream yesterday. So, I decided to stop at ghetto Rite-Aid around the corner for some candy.
What I really wanted was a Cadbury hazelnut chocolate bar. But alas, these are not available for purchase around here. Dairy Milk? Check. Fruit & Nut? Check. Almond? Check.
No, for hazelnut, one must venture across the bridge into the Great White North.
So I decide I'll settle for Crunch-n-Munch. But alas, there is no Crunch-n-Munch. Poppycock...which is tasty, but rather expensive.
I look at the Cadbury selection, and pick up a Caramello, mostly because they're on sale. (Why, oh why, does Cadbury not market more of their candy in the US? It's so yummy. Crunchie. Flake. Mmmmm....)
I look at the bag of Turtles, but it's kind of expensive, so I head to the checkout with my Caramello. And lo, at the checkout I see the three-pack of Turtles. Woohoo! So I get both. Oh, and the checkout girl was the nicest checkout girl ever. You have to be a really, really good person to be that sweet when you're working at Ghetto Rite-Aid.
I come home, and Jen is craving Nestle Crunch ice cream bars in a bad way.
"I have a Caramello and Turtles in the fridge," I say
"You bought both?"
"Yeah, I couldn't decide what I wanted," I say. "What I really wanted was Crunch-n-Munch, but they didn't have any."
"So you really wanted...caramel?"
Heh. I guess so. Except I get the toffee-flavored Crunch-n-Munch, which I point out after Jen has said she now wants a Butterfinger.
"I think I knew that," she said.
"But you know, what I really wanted was a Cadbury hazelnut bar..."|W|P|108743997586953833|W|P|Sweet tooth|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/16/2004 02:44:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Some days, I approach this whole turning 30 thing with a kind of detached indifference. Other days, it's almost approaching panic...as if 30 were some sort of mysterious deadline. For what, exactly, I'm not sure. What is the big IT I was supposed to have accomplished?
I was having a conversation (via email) on this topic yesterday, which began with the comment that some women have a sort of "mid-life crisis" at 30:
hmmm...a LOT of women (and even some men...) have a difficult time with turning 30. One friend was so down that we didn't even go out on her birthday. She wanted to pretend that it didn't exist.
It has a lot to do, I think, with the expectations we set for ourselves...and making peace with the fact that we aren't where we thought we'd be. I, for example, was "supposed" to be a whole lot more settled. Married. House. Maybe a baby or two. And I was supposed to be well-established in my chosen career at this point, without a doubt.
But instead, I'm single, scraping by on meager salaries from two part-time jobs, sharing an apartment with my best friend, and just beginning my "real" career. What's up with that? :)
I did some futher pondering on this yesterday, after a lunchtime conversation with coworkers started to go the direction of marriage and children and how it's more difficult to concieve the longer you wait...yada yada.
I have a tough time with this one, not because the tick of my biological clock has reached a thunderous level, and not because I'm filled with longing for a baby now.
No, what bothers me is the idea that women "should" or "shouldn't" have babies at a particular age...or the idea that it's always a choice. I am (almost) 30, and I am single. I'm okay with this. But did I choose it? No, not really. I was with a guy in college for three years, and I believed I was going to marry him. That didn't work out. I dated for four years after that, but didn't find anyone I could see myself spending the rest of my life with. I spent two and a half years with assboy, believing (again) that I was going to marry him. That didn't work out either. So here I am. It's not what I would have chosen, and it's not how I thought it would be, but it is what IS. In those 4 years after K, should I have, what, tried harder to find a husband? Uh oh, I need to be married and have babies. You, you'll do.
I don't think so...|W|P|108740457754251463|W|P|Tried for three years...seems like thirty...|W|Pemail@example.com/15/2004 09:41:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|A fiction writing professor I had in college said that the above is the only appropriate answer, for a writer, to the question "Why do you write?"
I write because I must.
I do not write for fame and fortune. I do not write to be liked. I do not write because it makes me happy, or because it entertains my friends. I do not write for other people.
I write for me.
Because I must.
I read some other blogs that create in me a sense of blog envy. The prose is rich, nuanced, magnificent. At times, I feel foolish spouting my little ditties about local music and the Catholic church and what I ate for lunch last Tuesday (okay, I made that last one up. But you know what I mean) when others are writing these beautiful evocative stories and posting them for the world to enjoy.
Funny thing about writing. I started this blog about two years ago, but didn't really write with much regularity until last October...when my world turned upside down and everything I thought I knew was wrong. I poured my heart out in those posts. My pain flowed through my fingertips, onto the blog page. It was cathartic. Cleansing. It was deeply personal.
But somehow, in some strange way, it was not nearly as deeply personal as my fiction (and in the rare instances that I write it, creative nonfiction). If I've shared that with you, well, then you know you're not just anyone...this, more than anything, involves baring the deepest reaches of my soul.
I just started reading "The Time Traveler's Wife" (yes, I know I still need to finish "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man," but my dear roommate sold the aforementioned book on half.com, and so now I must finish it before she puts it in the mail!) and noticed the little blurb on the back cover that says "This is her first novel." I wonder. I wonder how many unpublished novels, beginnings, scraps of stories, are tucked away in a file on her computer titled "story ideas," in a spiral-bound notebook beside her bed, on a legal pad in her desk drawer...I just wonder.
I write...because I must.|W|P|108735454593908232|W|P|I write because I must|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/14/2004 10:43:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|In 15 minutes, I will be exactly two months from my 30th birthday.
Here is a movie quote to commemorate this momentous occasion:
Sally: No, no, no, I drove him away. AND, I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's out there. It's just sitting there, like some big dead end. And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.
(When Harry Met Sally)
|W|P|108727191107006008|W|P|Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson...|W|Pemail@example.com/14/2004 03:22:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I should be working....but alas, it's a lot more fun exchanging fun, flirty emails and thinking about what to write in my blog.
First, I want to just briefly expand on last night's tired post. Johnny Goo! at the MIA festival! Both Jen and I had a feeling that he might show up, which is why we didn't leave despite annoying drunkards and sore feet. He only did two songs (Black Balloon being one of them...oh, how I love the live version of Black Balloon.), but how cool is that? The Goo Goo Dolls, playing for about 150 people at an outdoor music festival. Way cool.
I have a lot of respect and admiration for these guys, especially Robby Takac, for doing great things for their hometown.
Jen and I discussed what a bummer it is that our Jackdaw boys are not in on the Robby-and-Goo related local music scene. See, Jackdaw's drummer George was the original drummer for the Goos, and if you've seen "Behind the Music," you know the parting was not on the friendliest of terms...it's really too bad.|W|P|108723379378720905|W|P|I don't wanna work...|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/13/2004 09:30:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I know I promised all 7 of my faithful readers an account of the rest of the weekend-o-fun, but I am exhausted, so this is going to be brief.
1. Mamma Mia! rocks.
2. Blisters do not. :(
3. The Music is Art Festival rocks.
4. A surprise appearance by Johnny Rzeznik at said festival rocks even more.
5. Drunk men who try to push their way in front of you to get closer to the stage, then stand behind you and emit piercing whistles every 2.5 seconds, most definitely do NOT.
6. Klear also rocks.
I *heart* summer in Buffalo. :)
Oh, yeah, and I almost forgot...we got to see Saved! Friday night. It was hilarious.
That is all. |W|P|108718085889097064|W|P|Tired|W|Pemail@example.com/13/2004 12:30:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|So, is it pronounced "feet" or "fet"? This is a puzzle to me. See, where I come from, we had festivals. I'd not heard the term "lawn fete" until I moved here. Same basic idea. Greasy food. Games. Bingo. Beer tent. Interesting. Jackdaw went on late because of some electrical problem or something and only played one set. Boo.
Lots of mullets.
Ummm....Jen and I didn't go to Toronto last night, because we were tired and realizing that we are old...and (gasp!) responsible. We were both feeling too tired to drive up to Toronto, find a place to park, wait until 1 am to see the band we really wanted to see, to return home at 4 am. See? Old. ;) Spent most of today cleaning and setting up the apartment. Yay! It's feeling like home. Things on shelves. Things hanging on walls. This is good.
Ok, look for part II of weekend-o'-fun tomorrow!|W|P|108710509987931068|W|P|Partyin' at the lawn fete|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/11/2004 12:34:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Just in case you needed another reason to believe that Scientologists are crazy.
Thanks to Electablog for this!|W|P|108696478811182016|W|P|Cult of personality|W|Pemail@example.com/10/2004 10:07:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Movies on the erin-go-blog! must-see list:
The Stepford Wives
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Hmmm...I feel like there was more...I'll get back to you on that.|W|P|108692360148304827|W|P|More movie madness....|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/10/2004 09:46:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|
Back when I was just a wee lass, my friends and I discovered the movie Girls Just Want to Have Fun. Very cheesy, very 80s, very fun. Stars Sarah Jessica Parker and Helen Hunt before they were big stars. Also Jonathan Silverman and a very young Shannen Doherty
We loved this movie. We wore out VHS tapes of this movie. We would have sleepovers and watch this movie, start to finish, over and over and over again. We knew every single line.
Well, today I started working on a birthday surprise for my high school friends. I went looking for songs on the soundtrack (it is out of print), found one, and was singing along and dancing like crazy. Hee! I'm a really big dork...|W|P|108692312839436719|W|P|And...I love to dance.|W|Pemail@example.com/10/2004 09:37:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|As I was driving out to Albion today to do an interview for the paper(Albion, "A Great Place to Live!" Really. The sign said so.), I drove past several "pick your own strawberries" farms. These places also have stands for people too busy to pick their own. Oh my gosh...how could I have forgotten that it's JUNE, which means time for delicious locally-grown berries? Yum. I bought two quarts and made strawberry shortcake tonight. It was the best. shortcake. ever. :)
Also while I was driving, I was looking at all the cute little houses with big front porches, little white gazebos, fences, hanging baskets of flowers, wicker porch furniture...ah...sometimes, as Carolyn Dawn Johnson says, I just wanna live the simple life.
Spend my days in the sweet sunshine
Rock in my swing and watch my garden grow
Know that I'll always have someone to hold
Oh I wanna live the simple life
And today was a cold, cloudy, gloomy day. Imagine what a day I would have had if the sun had been shining!
The interview went well, I think...thanks to all who asked. It was very informal, just a meeting with the English department chair. If he liked me, I'll be called back for an interview with the principal. *fingers crossed*|W|P|108692199412949665|W|P|Strawberry fields forever...|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/09/2004 06:55:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I survived, just in case anyone was wondering... :)
I had a very surreal moment at around 4 am, getting on the eastbound thruway. See, I haven't driven this route since the breakup w/assboy. So here I am, driving down the highway in the wee hours of the morning, only my thoughts and the headlights of opposing traffic to keep me awake.
The thoughts just appear. I do nothing to summon them. They're not sad, not wistful, not even angry. They're just there.
Now, in the light of day, I'm not even sure what they were...the drive seems a faint memory, much like the relationship itself. Did I really spend 2 1/2 years of my life with him? Did I really think I was going to marry him?
It's amazing to me, still, how much less I cry now. I wonder why I didn't realize, all those times he asked me why I cried so much, that the reason was him.
I wrote a short story a while back that, while it had nothing to do with assboy or our relationship, has some moments in it that now seem strangely prophetic.
But here, in the dark of my room, I only know the pain of loving someone who can�t love me back.
Or maybe he does love me. Sometimes I think that he does. It just isn�t the way I
need to be loved, my narrator thought.
Maybe it had more to do with him than I believed when I was writing it...maybe it was my subconscious trying to tell me that I needed to move on.
Speaking of moving on...
The bread thing was actually kind of interesting. Just way, way too early! I didn't sleep so long when I got back, because I need to get a normal night's sleep tonight. Wish me luck tomorrow!
|W|P|108682668298103689|W|P|A drive down the highway of the past...|W|Pemail@example.com/09/2004 02:06:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|
Sixteen Candles is on TV right now. In case anyone cares... :)|W|P|108676528273387351|W|P|No more yanky my wanky...the Donger need food!|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/08/2004 11:55:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Has anyone else seen these commercials for America's Best?
I hate them. I hate the scary bobblehead people.|W|P|108675701487837147|W|P|Go away, scary bobblehead people!|W|Pemail@example.com/08/2004 11:32:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|(a million points to anyone who gets the above song reference...)
Yes, folks, erin-go-blog is pulling her first all-nighter in, well, a very long time.
Why, you ask?
Because, at 3:30 am (EST), she is driving to BFE, po-dunk, middle-of-nowhere to an abbey where a bunch of trappist monks make bread. And they start the bread at 5 am.
Oy. I don't get paid enough for this!
(speaking of, I'm probably the only person who hopes that Friday is NOT declared a national holiday as I, probationary employee, still does not get holiday pay.)
I've had moments where I've thought, "maybe I should lie down for an hour." No, no, I know that's crazy talk. It would just make it worse. I stay up. I don't have to go into the office tomorrow. I can sleep the afternoon away if I want to.
I put some Pepsi in the freezer and left it in just a touch too long, and now I have a Pepsi slushy. Which wouldn't be bad, except that's not what I wanted. I just wanted my Pepsi to be cold.
While it IS kind of fun being a part of the insomniac television phenomenon, I'll probably be sorry I did this in a few hours...caffeine, people. Caffiene is the key.
I feel like I should be doing something constructive. Writing. Reading. Job hunting. Journaling. Calling in the one... ;) Hell, even watching a movie...
Speaking of reading, I finally did read "Holes," and I loved it. I also read another YA novel that I'd been waiting for, "Messenger" by Lois Lowry. Anyone else out there read this one? I was so looking forward to it. I loved "The Giver" and "Gathering Blue," but this one disappointed me a bit. Thoughts?|W|P|108675645129655466|W|P|I'll sleep when I'm dead|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/08/2004 01:59:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I had a psychic radio moment as I was leaving work today. I was singing "Down Under" to myself, for no apparent reason. The second verse...
I got in the car just in time to hear the end of the first chorus. Isn't it just bizarre when that happens?
And if I'm going to be psychically in tune with something, why on earth is it 101.1, The River? :)|W|P|108672156366903336|W|P|He just smiled and gave me a vegamite sandwich|W|Pemail@example.com/07/2004 07:52:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|An outstanding post on education from Dave at Electablog today. Please go read the whole thing. I can't do it justice.
Food programs target the most hungry. Crime programs target the areas with the most crime. Educational policies and funds - not just number two pencils and multiple choice bubble sheets - should be directed towards the kids who need it the most.
|W|P|108665605632736087|W|P|No child left behind?|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/07/2004 07:47:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I just laughed out loud reading Regina's recap of the season finale of Alias.
Because this? Is exactly what went through my head when watching this scene:
"I'm not going to kill you," says Vaughn. "That would be too easy. But I'll leave you so disfigured that when you walk down the street, people will pity you." I'm sorry. I didn't realize that at some point during this scene, Buttercup's beloved Westley (a.k.a. "The Dread Pirate Roberts") had replaced Vaughn as Sark's torturer. What's next? What, are we gonna see Syd slamming into Jack's office and going, "My name is Inigo Sydtoya! You killed my mother! Prepare to die!"? Because that? Would rule.
Okay, maybe not exactly. But pretty darn close.|W|P|108665591987481156|W|P|TWoP, you rule.|W|Pemail@example.com/07/2004 11:39:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I have an interview sheduled for a long-term sub position (one year) at one of the Catholic schools this Thursday. Yay!
It was a very strange thing, as they sent letters to those people with resumes on file, asking us to call them if interested in interviewing. Weird. But anyway, keep your fingers crossed for me!|W|P|108661572377736205|W|P|Happy dance!|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/06/2004 09:54:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Last night, Jen and I headed out to Mickey Rats to see the Jackdaw boys along with a band they brought with them from a show in Cleveland the night before. Since we were a little bit late, we only caught the end of the first band's set, but they were very cool. Check out the Kissers.
Mickey Rats is a "beach club" on the lake in Angola. It is a place I would not be likely to frequent, but to see my favorite Celtic rockers.
We walked up to the entrance, and the bouncer held out his hand, waiting to see my id. I handed it to him, and he stood there, staring at it, for what seemed like ten minutes. He squinted, scanning the license for...something. He held it up next to my face.
"Yep," I said.
He looked at the license again.
"I'm 1971, and I'm old."
"Well, I guess I'm old too."
Random guy standing near the door says, "Wow, you look really good."
So, what do MOST 30-year-olds look like? Hmmm. Anyway...
We enter, and accidentally wander to the right instead of the left, and end up in the wrong club. (There are two, connected to each other...) There's a small dance floor, some awful hip hop dance music is playing, and one lonely old guy is on the dance floor.
"Jen," I said, "We need to be on the other side. This is not where the band is playing."
So we go through the bar, outside to the back deck, and around to the other side. Ah, there's the band. Good. The Kissers are on the stage. I see some familiar faces. I also see quite a few trucker hats.
Jen says, "You know you're at Mickey Rats when you see people wearing trucker hats and they're not trying to be cool."
A couple of girls walk by who are way overdressed. Little strapless dresses and strappy sandals.
"What are they wearing?" I say. "That's a little much."
"Well, where else are they going to go?" Jen says. "It's like the Chippewa of Angola."
"Yeah, but most of the people here are wearing normal--"
And then I saw them. The leather couple. Complete with fringe!
David saw Jen and me, and came over to greet us. The Kissers finished their set with a cover of "Teenage Wasteland" (which was very cool) and another song that I didn't know. As soon as the band was finished, the DJ put on some tunes. A few minutes later, a group of about three girls (one of them looking a little like Cameron Diaz, only not as cute) and one crazy dancing guy.
Now, let me just say that I had been ready to get my groove on since about 8, when "Hella Good" played on my Real Player.
So crazy dancing guy sees me kind of bopping to the music, and encourages me to come and dance with him and his friends. The girls are doing that silly grinding girl-on-girl thing that I find so annoying...except, apparently, when dancing on the bar at Roxy's. Er...anyway...
"Footloose" comes on, and crazy dancing guy is just getting the Kevin Bacon thing ALL wrong. Probably because he's too young. So I have to show him how it's done. ;)
Then, thankfully, the Jackdaw boys come out. I'm standing between Jen and this girl Tina that I know from the shows. Suddenly, out of nowhere, this couple comes and stands directly in front of us. The woman is wearing white capri pants with a loud black pattern. The guy has a mullet. And then...white pants lady and mullet boy started to grind. Ack! My eyes!
Our good friend David seemed to have a fan club forming...a little group of girls alternated taking photos of him with the same camera. I could just imagine the conversation.
"Here, you do it."
"I just went up there. It's your turn."
(in unison) "Hee hee hee."
Immediately following Joe Davies' way cool fiddle solo, David said "Dude, if I was wearing underwear, I'd throw them at you." Hee. And also, ew. ;)
At some point, I went into the ladies' room and got incredibly annoyed by the very, very young girls talking about their sexual encounters.
"Well, yeah, I slept with him, but I didn't give it up right away. I made him wait, like, a month."
(puff on cigarette. fluff hair)
Me: exit bathroom quickly.
During the break, the music started again, and some strange man stopped behind me on his way to the bathroom.
"Watch out, that guy's dancing with you," Jen said.
I turned and looked behind me.
"Sorry. I'm really not dangerous," he said. Heh.
During the second set, I had my personal space invaded a bit by the guy behind me (eek!). I was very happy that the boys played "Proofrock," but somewhat disappointed that they didn't play "Sorry Again." (sigh...probably better for me that way!) The guys had the Kissers join them on stage for a cover of "Sunny Side of the Street" by the Pogues, which was very fun.
As soon as they were finished, the DJ started up again. With some Def Leppard! Whoo! I loves my 80s hair bands. I got all excited and started dancing, which gave some guy the inclination to start talking to me.
"Is this Motley Crue?"
"No, it's Def Leppard. Pour Some Sugar on Me?"
I chatted politely for a few minutes, and then told him we had to go. Jen, not quite getting it yet, said, "I thought you wanted to listen to the song?"
So we left, but not without a brief spin around the dance floor (hee) and a hug from David. Being friends with the guys in the band is cool.
"That dumb guy totally saw that," Jen said.
Is that evil? ;)|W|P|108653510146406422|W|P|You can dance, you can jive....|W|Pemail@example.com/05/2004 05:33:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I went to the gym this morning (go, me!) and parked in the parking garage. Parked there, in the "small cars only" section, was a Little Red Corvette. Parked as so to take up two spaces. I can't even tell you how much this irritates me. Dude, if you're that worried about your precioussssss, park it somewhere else. Like on the next level where NO ONE ELSE is parked.|W|P|108647498006511667|W|P|Baby, you're much too fast....|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/05/2004 12:00:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I finally did it. I joined Big Brothers/Big Sisters. I had my first meeting with my little sister this week, and I'm really excited about this...I'm not sure if I'm supposed to wait to plan another meeting with her until I hear from the caseworker, but I'm thinking about seeing if she wants to go to the Allentown Art Festival next weekend. (I love the art festival, so much fun!)
I know people who have had really great experiences with this, and have formed lasting relationships. I hope that happens. :)|W|P|108645520597298858|W|P|Give a little bit...|W|Pemail@example.com/04/2004 06:43:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|This is WAY too much fun. Or maybe I'm easily amused. :P
Thanks to Anybody Got a Pen for yet another means of wasting time. :)|W|P|108639396595345899|W|P|Guess the dictator/sitcom character|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/04/2004 02:57:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|That henceforth, "sin, shmin" shall be adopted as the catchphrase of erin-go-blog!
:)|W|P|108636830086161789|W|P|It is hereby written and decreed...|W|Pemail@example.com/04/2004 01:32:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|This is such a cool blog:
Warning...the most recent post got me a little bit teary.|W|P|108636324157754628|W|P|Spreadin' more blog love|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/04/2004 12:07:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I am so excited about the new Harry Potter movie. :)
I don't know when I'm going to go see it, though. I would like to go see it this weekend, which would mean going by myself. Yes, I could go alone, but I've never been a fan of going to the movies alone. Ah, we'll see...
I read an article in which Daniel Radcliffe, the boy who plays Harry, speculates that Harry won't survive the final book. Well, that just wouldn't be cool. Frodo saved Middle Earth without plunging into the Cracks of Doom with the ring! Meg rescued Charles Wallace from IT and beat the dark thing without anyone dying! Buffy....oh, wait, Buffy DID die to save the world. But she came back! So listen, JK Rowling? Don't kill Harry. Thank you.|W|P|108635841885484270|W|P|I *heart* Harry Potter|W|Pemail@example.com/03/2004 02:59:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|erin-go-blog is looking for your input, dear readers.
It's been too long since I've read a really great book. I wandered around B&N last week, looking for the perfect book to jump out at me. It didn't.
And so I turn to you. Give me a recommendation. A classic, something new, an old favorite, whatever.
I thank you in advance for your help. :)|W|P|108628211661268463|W|P|Book recommendations?|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/03/2004 12:44:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Seriously. I get way more amusement out of this than I should.
I was amused, for example, to see that more than one person has found my blog by doing a search engine query for "assboy." Hee!
(Incidentally, this search also generates a LOT of gay porn hits...)
;)|W|P|108627396877714869|W|P|Having a counter is cool.|W|Pemail@example.com/02/2004 08:49:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|more fun with Catholic listservs, brought to you by erin-go-blog!
I have been to Congress for you - testifying before members of the House of Representatives. There, I saw firsthand what is happening ...
THE INSTITUTION OF MARRIAGE IS IN DANGER AS NEVER BEFORE.
So we are launching a new push to see the U.S. Constitution amended to protect marriage. And we need your immediate financial help.
I know that many members of the ACLJ like you have already spoken out in support of the Federal Marriage Amendment to the United States Constitution.
In fact, almost 300,000 people have already signed our Petition to Preserve Marriage.
But despite this overwhelming response, the amendment legislation is stalled in the committees and back rooms of Congress. It's going nowhere. Without further action, this movement is doomed.
Lawyers for same-sex marriage proponents are fighting this effort at every step with incredible financial resources. And now that the Massachusetts high court ruling favoring same-sex marriages has gone into effect, they are vowing to see legal homosexual unions in every state.
The executive director of gay rights group Lambda Legal said, "We can't and we won't stop until we have equality in marriage nationwide." He said courts in California, New Jersey, New York, and Washington are considering lawsuits seeking same-sex marriage rights.
We must launch a new campaign - a renewed effort - to get the Federal Marriage Amendment out of the committees and on to the floor of the House and the Senate for an immediate vote.
To make it happen, we need you to make a generous tax-deductible online gift today.
Your contribution will help us:
* mount a nationwide campaign to push Congress into action,
* mobilize as many concerned citizens as possible, and
* continue our ongoing efforts to preserve the federal Defense of Marriage Act and "Defense of Marriage" laws in various states of the Union.
To preserve the family as God designed it, we must preserve the institution of marriage. If marriage can be re-defined simply by a change of a few words, its meaning evaporates!
Enabled by you and other members of the ACLJ, through your prayerful giving, WE WILL KEEP ON BATTLING to preserve the institution of marriage in this country on every possible front - all the way up to the Supreme Court of the United States.
But we cannot fight this battle without you.
Please stay faithful to this important cause with your very best secure, online gift today.
Your support today will help us preserve marriage and continue all our efforts to protect your freedoms.
For some intelligent reading on the subject, please see Dahlia Lithwick's column on Slate.com.
|W|P|108622785851452543|W|P|A cause that will not get any of my imaginary money...|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/02/2004 12:12:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Check out the June issue of Toasted Cheese.
There's some good stuff in there. :)|W|P|108618563420212739|W|P|Cheesy goodness|W|Pemail@example.com/02/2004 11:54:00 AM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|I learned something odd about myself this weekend. (Um, keep comments to yourselves please!)
While we were helping Brandy with her project, we were discussing what we used to do in kindergarten. I was a bit of a precocious child. I could read when I was four. I had oodles of books. I got tons of encouragement from my parents, as well as two aunts who happened to be teachers, and I watched Sesame Street and The Electric Company constantly. (Allow me a moment of wistfulness for the good old days of children's television. None of that Barney crap. I actually learned stuff! Letters, numbers, Spanish. What Silent E does. How to make an adverb by adding "ly." What the ladybugs 12 brought to the ladybug picnic. ;) Yes, folks, I learned all of this on TV....but I digress...)
"I remember that my kindergarten teacher didn't believe that I could read," I said to my mom.
"That's because you pretended you couldn't read," my mom told me.
What? No really, what?
"Yes," my mom said. "The other kids couldn't read yet, and you didn't want to be different. So you pretended."
Whoa. I had no recollection of this whatsoever.
Here's the thing that really confuses me...where on earth did I learn such behavior at five? Where did I pick up on the idea that it was bad to be different and I needed to "fit in?" Gah. No wonder middle school was so painful.
This blog entry brought to you by the letters N and Q and the number 4.|W|P|108618456152588771|W|P|And the worst part is...I never learned to read!|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org/01/2004 03:21:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|Daily, in my yahoo! junk mailbox, I get one of these:
that is why they call you smallie
Is there a box somewhere that I can check to at least ensure that I get only spam relating to body parts that I actually have?|W|P|108611062686744361|W|P|Why I *heart* spam|W|Pemail@example.com/01/2004 02:45:00 PM|W|P|Erinna|W|P|On Saturday, my whole family decided to get Dairy Queen for dessert. I went up to the window to order, handed the nice young lady at the counter our very lengthy order, and what should catch my attention?
Why, the line of small, shiny plastic baseball helmets in the window, a long-standing DQ tradition!
"Excuse me," I said. "Could you please put the small caramel sundae in a Pirates helmet?"
Hee. I'm a dork.|W|P|108610860810616440|W|P|Young at heart|W|Pfirstname.lastname@example.org