Happy New Year's or Meh

so, i'm at work. people feel bad for me because i have to work on new year's eve. but honestly, what else am i going to do? laundry? unlikely! (actually, i really need to do laundry. if anyone who is off wants to break into my house and do it for me, that'd be swell....)


the nice thing about working on nye (see how hip i am with my abrevs?) is that there are very few people working. because everyone thinks i'm not here, i get fewer annoying phone calls, and the best part is that both of my bosses are gone, so i don't have to do any actual work. not that i do actual work on a daily basis, because i try to avoid it as much as possible. this would be easier if people weren't constantly asking me to do things.


for instance, i'm supposed to go upstairs to get something to ship, as well as downstairs to get supplies. i mean, we have an elevator, but i can't justify using it for the one and a half floor walk up, and i feel lazy not walking down the stairs. plus said elevator is small and scary. i feel like it's just waiting to kill me dead.

come to think of it, that might not be so bad. i mean, then i wouldn't have to do my work. not that i'm planning on doing work anyway, but meh.


speaking of meh, it was recently brought to my attention that i have a problem with monosyllabic definitive statements.

example:

person x: erin, i am having a personal life crisis and i need you to help me figure out the meaning of life so that i refrain from killing myself.

me: yeah.

person y: i think it's time you know, erin. i'm madly in love with you and i want to bear your children no matter how massive their heads might be.

me: bah.

person q: erin, do you think it's a good idea to invest in a magic 8 ball? i'm thinking it could help me when i'm trying to make important life decisions.

me: meh.

as you can see, i'm helpful. these one syllable words keep me coolly distant like this guy:

wait a minute. is this camel supposed to emulate a black man?? i think i'm offended. on the other hand, he is quite appealing to children, and therefore children will learn to think that black camel-men are cool and not scary, so that perhaps they won't grow up to cross the street upon seeing them or shooting them in the face in "self defense". on the other other hand, joe camel has been banned because he is appealing to children, thus trying to keep a black brotha down.

so, we've come full circle, and i'm offended. i could just remove the image and be done with it, but i think we all know i'm too lazy for that. maybe instead i'll sue the camel company. that'll be a shocker, no one is ever trying to sue the smoking industry.

speaking of smoking, i'm hungry. mayhaps i'll nibble on lunch 1. now.

meh.

Erin and the Chocolate Factory or What I Want for Dinner

so, my boss is pregnant. this means that someone in this office finally has the same eating patterns as me (breakfast 1. eight o'clock, breakfast 2. 10 o'clock, lunch 1. noon, lunch 2. 2:30, snack 4, end of day treat 5). this is great. also, it means that there is more food around. i like this.

the only downside is that it's a struggle to fit into my pants. the solution? pregnant pants!

aren't these hot? i'm thinking of getting many pairs. you know what would be even better? rainbow pregnant pants!

what could be better than these? nothing that i can think of. can you imagine how fantastic the reaction would be to me if i were walking down park avenue on my way to work in these? and i'm not even pregnant! i think people would respond pretty well. and then dolce and gabbana would want to carry them and i'd make a lot of money, all because i eat too much to fit into my pants. i think i'm on to something here.

on second thought, it'd be a lot of work to manufacture rainbow pregnant pants and then market them to people such as myself. it would take a lot of cleverness, and quite frankly, i'm feeling a little too hung over for all of that.

but if any of you want to go ahead and put the whole project together and give me credit, i'm all for it. just put princess erin on the label and call it a day.

also, send me delicious treats. i'm hungry.

I Can See Clearly Now or My Nose is Cold

it was my understanding that after the winter solstice, the sun is supposed to be out for more of the day. for those of you who can't remember, this is what the sun looks like:

see how happy she is? she just wants to come out and love us all, but NOOOO. mean man winter has to kick her ass with cloud coverage and early sunsets:and so i'm left in a downward spiral of depression and very few chocolates around to ease my pain. alas, what is one to do? if only there were a puppy to kick in the face.

and to top it all off, when i went to hula hoop today, the grass was closed at central park. how is the grass closed? it's a park! but this is the sign that was up:


needless to say, i was upset. it didn't help that the squirrels were laughing at me. stupid squirrels. anyway, i was forced to hula hoop on the mulch beside a tree near the sidewalk.

i looked like a crazy person.

and this is why we need to force our presidential candidates to actually get to the meat of the matter. we shouldn't be dallying with issues like "war" and "health care"--nay! we need to know where the candidates stand on such hot topic issues as where the hell am i supposed to hula hoop in the winter? what was the point of getting the fur-lined boots if i can't use them on the grass?! that is why i encourage you, my fellow americans, not to choose a candidate based on trivialities such as what s/he might do for you, rather pick the candidate that will free the grass and enable me to meditate on my lunch hour.


please. don't let the squirrels win.

Cat Scratch Fever or Jesus Sandals

well, i'm back from the motherland, so no more suffering through blogs from people who are less cool than me. i want to thank my guest bloggers, and by that i mean thanks for nothing! you people are too busy plugging your own blogs to get to what's important--me. those of you who did talk about me only talked about my evil qualities, which everyone knows only make up a third of who i am. what about the rest of me? so, to answer shifty-eye scher's request to rate your abilities, you all get a rating of kicked off my list of people who can post on my blog.

no, but really, you cracked me up, and i got a taste of what it's like to laugh at someone hilarious the way you all get to feel when you read my posts. what? that was a sentence.

so, as many of you know, today is a special day. no, i'm not talking about jesus day. because of him, i can't buy groceries. actually, let's think about jesus for a second. jesus is important. this is confirmed by a conversation i had on g-chat earlier today:

11:30 AM rtk: welcome back!

me: thanks

merry jesus day!

11:33 AM rtk: merry jesus day to you too

11:34 AM me: don't you know i'm jewish? yeesh

:)

11:37 AM rtk: the birth of jesus was no small matter for the jews

11:38 AM me: true enough. he gave us those trendy sandals

rtk: and the years of persecution

11:39 AM me: that's a footnote, really. it's the sandals that are important.

11:40 AM rtk: haha

so as we can all see:

plus


equals

but enough about jesus. today is special because i'm finally home from the motherland. i know you all missed me, and i can't say that i blame you. i'm great, and my absence caused a lot of tears.

on the down side, i came home to freddy vs. jason and olive. it turns out, they hate each other, and therefore, they hate me for introducing them. i was hoping that they would get along swimmingly, so that i could go about my business and ignore them. but no, they are constantly hissing at each other, and scratching and biting me for putting them together. so, i'm being punished. which should make a lot of you happy.

on the plus side, i'm on my way to becoming a cat lady:


and since i hate washing my hair, this works out nicely.

anyway, i'm already bored of myself, and there is futurama to watch as i cower on one end of the couch and pretend i'm invisible as to avoid the cats.

i'm so tired....

Gretch Guest GUEST Blogs...(Or, what are cousins for, anyway?)

You people. You Johnny-Come-Latelies. You HAVE NO IDEA! About Erin that is... Erin, Erin, Erin (I hate to repeat her name so many times in one sentence, she must love it so). Jayanna has shed light on her formative years. She is SO MUCH kinder and gentler now!!! When I first met her she was--how do I put this diplomatically?--oh yeah, Jew Demon Spawn (if I put "Jew" in the sentence, it's automatically funnier, right?). See, Erin was BFFs with my sister, Virginia, and my cousin, Jayanna, when they were all in high school. During that era, I was a busy young woman, who minded her own business and treated others well--just as she wished to be treated. But Erin--well, she undid all my best, most golden-hearted intentions. I spoke, she smirked. I offered my opinion, she threw her head back and guffawed. I held forth on important topics of the day, she berated every last one of them. My insights were stifled and my creative efforts were eviscerated. She accused me of being unfocused and--what?!!! You have something shiny?!

POST BLOG (P.B) -


This is Jane, Jayanna's sister, cousin to Virginia, two of Erin's childhood best friends. I too, know the perils of one you call Erin. Here's my story. At age 9, Erin stole my FAVORITE porcelain kitten music box, OUT OF MY ROOM. It was wonderful, having the cutest kittens and playing the song, "Tea For Two." Anyway, she broke it, wrapped it in a piece of dirty laundry, and hid it under my bed. Then she told me my sister was the culprit. This is all well and good, but I hated my sister for the next ten years, and it ruined our relationship for all time. The years we missed! The person she, I, we could have been! Only recently have I found out it was Erin who broke my toy. Only now can my sister's and my relationship begin to heal.

My Little Erin

Hello, my name is Jayanna. I have known Erin since we were just little Jews together in Sunday school. In other words, since she was REALLY evil. You think not sharing her ice cream is bad? You don't know bad. Erin has only become less ruthless as she's aged. Let me share just one example of her rotten reign. I'm sure everyone of a certain generation remembers My Little Pony. These little things were like crack to me for years. I mean, ponies cast in bright colors often with sweet tiny tattoos on their rumps? Where do I sign up? If you don't remember, here are some examples. There were fuzzy ponies, which always ended up with shiny bald spots where I would wear away the wonderful pony fuzz.
There were unicorn ponies that hurt like a little pony bitch when hurled through the air by an angry sibling. These often ended up with their horns chewed up by Javan, my older brother who to this day always has something in his mouth that probably shouldn't be.

There were Jewel eyed ponies. I loved these the best perhaps foreshadowing my later life when I would pour over the Tiffany web site for hours.
There were even seahorse ponies for bathtime fun.
There were male ponies, evidenced by the super sexy hair on their fetlocks. I never had these. My ponies were more of the lesbian commune type.
But the BEST pony was one I dubbed Lollipop. I was an extremely inventive child. She was so beautiful that she merits TWO pictures. Just look at her. She's amazing.















Specifically, note her glorious tail. Hours I'd spend brushing that tail...until it mysteriously disappeared. I never knew what had happened to it but always assumed it had been my own fault. I rued its loss for a long time. Years later, like high school maybe, Erin and I were discussing My (beloved) Little Ponies. She casually said "Remember that time I got mad at you and TORE THE TAIL OUT OF YOUR MY LITTLE PONY?" AHHHHHHHH!!!!!! So that's what happened! I'd known for years how awful she could be, but to tear the tail from Lollipop's beautiful blue butt? What kind of monster does that?
Okay, I have to go take a shower now. I think Erin assigned me Christmas Eve to blog because I'm a Jew, but I am at the beck and call of Randy (a whole other kind of evil) and have a million things to do. I'll collect more stories and report back.

I Will Resist! or Please Be My Friend

Hi. I’m Sean. Or, for the purposes of this blog and Erin’s life, Sean Standish. I know Erin from a mutual agreement we shared while in Boston. Some people mistakenly think we dated. These people, however, don’t know that Erin doesn’t actually date. She has certain needs – like someone to listen to her talk about how much she hates Boston, or a book from another room. I, as a person with both ears and legs and very little ability to think for myself, could fill these needs for her. In exchange, she would sometimes try to make a somewhat sincere effort to listen to my long, rambling stories for more than 15 seconds. This was very painful for her, and she rarely made it past 8 seconds without “I’m bored now. Why are you so boring?” or “Quiet now, TVs talking,” or “I can’t help but notice you’re not getting me ice cream.” But, to be fair, I wasn’t getting her ice cream because the last time I got her ice cream I had to walk through the snow in the freezing Boston winter to 12 different convenience stores to find one that had Triple Chocolate Chip Haagen Dazs (this was the favorite in the pre-Pomegranate Chip days) and when I finally returned with my fingers too numb to grip the two spoons I thought we needed, naturally assuming that we’d be sharing this delicious treat that I sacrificed my life for, I learned that this “sharing” was not part of our agreement.

So I was not, under any circumstance, getting her ice cream again. So, after I got back with the ice cream (she really needed it this time) she had moved on to checking her email and had lost interest in pretending she actually had interest in what I was talking about in the first place. Much like most of you now have. In fact, this is the only time she ever pretended to pay attention long enough for it to actually be caught on film.

Notice the pained look on Erin's face as she tries so hard to maintain focus.

So now you’re a little bit closer to Erin. Which, of course, is what she wanted anyway – I mean, when she invited me to be a guest blogger she clearly knew that I would tell some long, boring story and that you, as her devoted friends, would continue reading all the way through because its her blog and who among us wants to face the wrath of Erin if she finds out you’re not reading every one of her blog entries in their entirety. So it follows that she also knew that after the three excruciating minutes it takes you to read this, you would all come to her with an outpouring of empathy: “you had to live through that for over a year?! What are you, some sort of saint? Or god? Or godly saintly princess who can harness the patience of a cheetah on the prowl by sheer force of your godly, saintly, princessly will?” And for that, Erin, you’re welcome.

Anyway, when Erin asked me to write on her blog, I of course accepted the offer immediately. I mean, who wouldn’t want the honor of being published in such a prestigious place? But then I started to doubt myself. I mean, I’ve never done something like this before. I don’t have a blog. I don’t generally comment on blogs. I don’t even have a facebook account. Yes, I know. Who isn’t on facebook? Me, that’s who. I-I just said that, actually. C’mon, stay with me. So, no, I’m not on facebook. At first, this was borne of sheer laziness – I didn’t want to go through the 2-minute long process to sign up and then have to come up with descriptions of myself that could potentially be somewhat entertaining. Then, as I discovered that everyone else in the universe is on facebook, my resistance took the form of stubbornness. And I’m very stubborn. Obstinate, even. (I actually prefer ‘determined.’ I’m very determined.) But I was tested: “Why aren’t you on facebook, Sean? Its really cool, Sean. Don’t you want to be cool, Sean? Is it because you don’t have any friends, Sean? Because you smell bad and you’re ugly and people hate you…Sean?” Shut up!

They tried to wear me down, but I remained steadfast. It was an epic battle, one that desperately needed to be fought. At last, someone standing up to the massive community-driven greed for convenience. And I was winning. You want to stay in touch with your friends? Pick up a telephone! You want to stalk someone you haven’t seen in years? That’s what telephoto lenses are for! You want to do all this while playing magnificent games like Scrabulous or Risk or Fr---wait, they have Frogger? Hold on a minute.

No, this is not defeat. They have not worn me down. I just – I’ve made a terrible mistake. Facebook is not the enemy. Um. MySpace – yeah, that’s what we should be fighting against. Yes, this is a redeployment.

On a completely unrelated topic, I would like to offer you, the loyal readers of Erin’s blog, the very first opportunity to officially confirm (or establish) your friendship with me on my inspiring new Facebook page. I have decided entirely by myself – with no outside influences whatsoever

Go away! Stupid frog. What was I saying? Oh, I’ve decided to start my very own Facebook page. Apparently its quite popular – I just stumbled upon it myself. You should join – www.facebook.com – its very easy. I have to go now – I have a lot of, um, very important things to get done…I can’t even tell you what…that’s how important they are.

Procrastination or You expect me to come up with a second title?!

My name is Debbie. I procrastinate. It is in my genes. I often forget that I am a procrastinator, and so when I said yes to this guest blogging thing I had grand ideas. Especially when Erin sent out a schedule, I had over a week to plan out exactly what I would write (that didn’t stop me from trying to make Erin feel badly for putting me close to the end, I am nice, this is why we are friends). But of course, my procrastination genes kicked in, and instead of spending the week brainstorming my post, I spent it talking about how I really needed to start brainstorming my post. See, this is how a true procrastinator operates. We spend all of our time talking about what we need to do, how we are running out of time, when it would’ve taken half the time to just do what we were talking about (though that would be way less fun). Evidence that this is not the only thing I procrastinate:

1. I have my own blog – itsalltoomuch.blogspot.com – head over there and check it out (I even got a comment from someone I don’t know, I tell this “story” over and over no matter how much it bores everyone around me). Now, have you gone and read it (that’s right, I am not just going to tell you what is there). That my friends (or people I don’t know) is true procrastination.

2. I have a broken TV in my apartment that I still watch – it looks like a 3D movie, it has been this way since a week after I moved in (a year and a half ago). My brother and I (we share genes and an apartment) used to discuss getting a new tv a lot, of course we never actually did it. Eventually we will, maybe soon, maybe not, though we should start talking about it again.
   

3. My goal my last semester of college was to write a paper more than one day before it was due (I did not achieve this goal). However, that semester, I did begin writing a 10 page paper at 11AM, when it was due at 4PM that very same day (I got an A- on it, procrastination = getting good grades).

That was fun, how about another list (lists are procrastinators best friends).

These are all the possible topics that I thought or someone suggested to me for this blog entry. I bet you are wishing I hadn’t procrastinated and taken the time to write about them.

1. Gilmore Girls
2. Counterpoint to an earlier Erin post: Why I like to eat and SHARE my ice cream
3. Willie Randolph as
4. The Writer’s Strike (I support them)
5. Why the 2008 election should be postponed until Stewart & Colbert are back on TV (America is being cheated)
6. Tu B’Shevat
7. The joy of Beer Pong
8. Things I miss about Erin
9. Things I don’t miss about Erin
10. My year end top ten lists
11. TV shows you must watch (if I don’t procrastinate finishing this entry too much, I may have another list in me yet)
12. The best activities to do while procrastinating
13. The meaning of life and how I discovered it
14. Name that television quote! Here’s one: “Weapons of Mass destruction were found in Iraq. And what that means for your weekend?!”
15. Why the Mets are ruining my life
16. The best places to eat in Queens
17. Procrastination (oh wait, I did write about something I thought of earlier, maybe I am not a procrastinator after all)!

Okay, so now that I realize that my whole entire life is a lie, I need to go crawl under my desk and cry. And then get back to work yelling at insane Israelies and talking about Tu B’Shevat (don’t I have an awesome job)!

I think I achieved my goal of slightly amusing myself, boring all of you and making you salivate for Erin’s triumphant return. Who knows, maybe I will actually start writing on my own blog again.

Last idea: Who here thinks Erin should rate our guest posts? Maybe I should’ve written about my competitive streak.

Internal Debate on the walk to work.

Hello all! This is Matt Conley, also known as playdoh boy. I'm taking a moment out of my 'busy' schedule to contribute to this blog. First of all I'm also confused and put a lot of thought into what it was I was going to contribute on this blog. Should I be witty and pointless (very similar to erin's posts?) or should I dig into the depth of my soul and bring out my true identity and address existential questions? I chose to go with the first one. If I've ever left a message on your voice mail you completely understand that I can ramble like no one's business. I particularly do it to Erin because she expressed her distaste for it. So I'm going to attempt to have some sort of structure here.

I woke up early this morning and got into the office to help my boss with something, come to find out he called in sick. Which made me happy. Not only did I wake up early (NOT a morning person) but I fought the bitter bitter winter that is New York right now. I had quite the weekend (it was my roommates Bday) and I decided for all the brain cells that I killed this weekend, I need to rejuvenate. So, I brought my book instead of my ipod for the trip on the subway to work. However I got outside and was immediately reminded as to why I HATE WINTER! I walked so fast and by the time I got to the subway when I was suppose to start reading my book, I couldn't I was too cold to move. Instead I had to get annoyed with all the 72nd stop people being too rich and too annoyed to have to ride the subway thus making everyone around them miserable. So to them I say: Yes, you have more money than me, you can live on the upper west side, but you're taking the subway just as I am-Do not roll your eyes at me because the subway is packed. If you're that annoyed get a driving service. Ok I dont want to spend all my time talking about people you dont know. So I shall get my point (yes erin, I have one) I was thinking, it would be a lot easier in life if I just knew when I was going to die. I mean I could plan accordingly. Like a budget, you have X amount of dollars (or days in this case) and Y is what you plan to purchase (or experiences you want to be involved in) and thus you get a formula. So if I were to die next year, I'd obviously be sailing around the world, sky diving, getting almost killed by a bus driving in Nepal, etc. But I'm not, because the whole saying of 'live each day as your last' is really quite impractical. I can't make such harsh decisions everyday. I mean my screen name (ever since I was 15) has been Live4now, but that's when I was young and stupid and was in love with the dead poets society. (O Captain my Captain!). I have several things on my 'list of things I want to do before I die'. I plan to accomplish them all, but again, would like to know my time line. I honestly wouldn't mind all that much if they said a year or 2 (I dont want to live to be old, I want to go out with a bang somewhere around 50ish?) But I've gotten together a few photos of things I'd like to see before I die:

I know what you're thinking (wow this guy is really cool. I can assure you: I'm not, but just in case-cue self promotion-you can get more of me at: matthewaaron.blogspot.com)

So instead of seeking these places out before I die, I get ready, face the bitterness of winter, have a lunch, work a little, then see where the evening takes me. I mean everyday I enjoy, I dont have a meeting at the end of the day and measure my levels of happines vs. annoyances of the day and put it in an excel sheet and analyze month-month (hm.. that sounds excessive but practical, I'll look into it) But instead my daily sights are like this:

I can't decide whose my favorite expression is. I really like the guy on the far right, but I can feel the 3rd woman from the left's pain (ps. I googled imaged this photo by searching: new yorker annoyed subway)

So all in all I find joy in my day to day life, but wouldn't say I live it to the fullest, because how practical is that really? Exactly. On another note I was going to use the 'guest blog' experience to talk about how much I love Erin and respect her, because my usual vocab to her is 'you smell, you're not a lesbian, or ugh I hate you.' But I do love her and she's stuck by me for many a good days and many bad. (Even when she was the first one I told I was gay, then didn't talk to her for about a year she still wants to hang out with me. I know sucka!) But I love her. She's even good in bed. (I know what you're thinking, wait-I thought he was, and Erin likes to sleep naked.) Exactly! I will sleep with her only if she's fully clothed, and I get to drool on her sheets. But I dont snore and she enjoys that. I shall end with the great words of Cher from Clueless 'I'm outtie' (I mean I'm gay I'll get my card taken away if I dont say something over-the-top gay)

Love you Erin and you better come back (with my camera)

Finally! Substance! or What was I Saying?

Enough with this nonsense!

It is Barret Mindell (the brother Erin knows about) and I'm here to fix this blog of hers. I'm an enforcer, ladies and gentlemen. Or "lady and gentleman," if there are only two readers and one is a woman and one is a man. Or "ladies," if there are no men reading this but multiple women. Also, if there are any transgendered or other sexually ambiguous people present I am not sure what to call you but I fully respect your decisions and am perfectly willing to listen to your preferences!

What was I saying? Right! I'm an enforcer! I'm the substitute teacher who actually makes you do your classwork. I'm the babysitter that puts you to bed a half hour before your parents told me I should, so I can invite my wrong-side-of-the-tracks boyfriend over to make out on your couch. I'm the parent that you don't ask for five dollars to go buy a Butterfinger because it will rot your teeth and you and I both know perfectly well a Butterfinger only costs one dollar.

Seeing as this is my first time writing on Erin's blog (What's that you say? The Ice Cream expose? The one that is very obviously written by NOT Barret Mindell? Exactly.), I'd like to clarify how we're going to be working together. First and foremost, you are NOT allowed to mumble under your breath how "un-hip" I am, but if you are uncomfortable you are more than welcome to leave.

A NOTE TO ERIN:

Erin? Everybody left. I was just trying to make a good impression and they all left.. I'm so upset. I just... Erin, I don't know how to do this. I couldn't even tell which members of your audience are men and which are women. I mean, all the "men" were so girly, and the "women" so butch that most of them could go either way, you know? I'm scared and I was just trying to--Huh? What did you say? Keep writing anyway? Things like this take time? You're right, Erin! I'll keep writing and maybe they'll come back! What's that? You don't think they'll come back.. I see. But that doesn't mean my guestblog is bad, right? It does? Oh.

Achem. Now there are going to be a few changes on this blog while I'm writing it, er, today. There are going to be NO pictures whatsoever- pictures like this:

or this:

None! Other changes include the the word "I" will now be capitalized out of respect for Me, while the word "you" shall remain lowercased; and most importantly this blog will now have substance. None of this erinesque rambling about commonplace dilly-dallying and canoodling. No more cuddling, and cuddlebunnies are henceforth banned! Well, maybe a little cuddling. Everyone loves a little cuddle every now and then. Ok, cuddlebunnies are welcome, but all cuddlebunnies must remain on-task and only cuddle during allotted cuddle times! But that thing I said about substance stays. Today, this blog will have a point!

Things that make you go 'ew' or I have a horrible vocabulary.

Hello! This is Becky, guest blogger for Erin today. This whole 'guest blogger' thing is really building her ego, don't you think?

Speaking of ego building, sort of: http://www.cafepress.com/bluegreenred/980159.

Those of you who know me (and if you don’t know me, why not? I have facebook!) might think of me as a random person. I say things that normal people shouldn’t. But surprisingly enough, I favor consistency.
I take lunch around the same time every day. I like to take showers at regular intervals (every other morning-don’t judge!). I call certain people at certain times (i.e. friends with jobs before 10 pm, family members while I’m walking to/from places, friends in school whenever the hell I want to because they’re still in school and can take a nap if I really tire them out) and pretty much go to Target every three weeks (like clock-work).Don’t get me wrong, I hate repeating outfits and when I had long hair I tried to style it differently every day. Sometimes I wore barrettes, or ponytails, or headbands, or down, or pulled back with a little poofy-guy in front. But I stayed away from back-to-back ponytails, or three days-in-a-row of the poofy-guys. No one needs that many poofs or ponies in their lives. Is the plural of pony-tail ponies-tails?
Even now at work, I cringe when I had to repeat outfits. For the first month that I worked at JNF I tried to wear 20 completely different outfits. Except for shoes because I don't have that many pairs of shoes. I've given up on that dream now.

So, I have these two opposing ideas in my life: routine and randomness. I like routine, and I like to be comfortable. I like to watch ‘Heroes’ on Monday nights, and I liked to get 7+ hours of sleep every night. But, I get bored easily (go figure) so I like to keep things fresh (see above). I can’t eat the same thing for lunch every day, and I like to spend my weekends doing different things. A good example of this opposition lies in my movie-watching habits. I have a bad memory, so in order to really (anything keeping count of how many times I'm using that word?) remember a movie I need to watch it 2 or 3 times, at least. But, I get bored re-watching movies...


That doesn't even make sense and yet it's the world I live in!
A BIG area where I fail in my quest to ‘keep it fresh’ is my vocabulary. I think I only know, like, 100 words. And I use them over and over again. If something is good then it’s good, or really good, or great. A new person is cool, weird, awkward, pretty, funny, or really cool, really weird, really awkward…you get the point, don’t you? Sometimes, if I’m feeling very adventurous, I’ll spice up my speech with ‘awesome’. I’ll put a dash of ‘soooooo’ or toss in a sprinkle of ‘therefore’ or ‘obviously’. But I don't think that's enough variety. But what am I supposed to do? Carry a thesaurus with me everywhere I go? Carrying and walking are hard for me, so that's a 'NO' to that question.

And, I’ve even subscribed to Merriam-Webster’s word-a-day in the hopes that the internets can help me reform my simple ways. Maybe instead of being happy I should be jubilant? Or instead of saying ‘that shit’s crazy’ I should say ‘that shit’s folderol’ (that was my word-of-the-day today. And incase you don’t know it means ‘nonsense’). I'm determined not to let my simple-mind get the best of me!
I can improve my vocabulary, and make my world brighter, if I’m conscious about it!

Unfortunately, that's only half the battle. What about the words I say over and over again (like ‘over’ or 'like'), that I can’t control? What about the phrase ‘actually’ that I use before a lot of my anecdotes? I can’t control ‘actually’-it just happens! Or what about ‘loves’? The valley girl expression used to indicate that I really (see? Really’s here again) like something? If I 'loves' something I'm usually excited about it and don't realize I'm saying it. I'm not thinking clearly!

Or what about ‘ew’? I saw ‘ew’ all the time. It’s gotten to be a thing of mine, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t say 'ew', like normal people, when there are big monsters under my bed or bugs attacking me.


I don’t scream ‘ew’ if a homeless person pees on me (I mean, I would…but whatever), or if I find a toe with a green nail on it in the afternoon post (‘The Big Lebowski’ anyone?).

I scream ‘ew’ when: I’m surprised. Or I don’t like the weather outside (too hot, too cold, humid, rain, snow, mist, sleet, windy, lightning).
Or if my hair’s messed up.

Or if I don’t like what I’m eating. Or if someone says a gross joke. Or if I say a gross joke and surprise myself (sometimes I like to surprise myself…..BOO!). Or if someone relates an anecdote about a person that bothers me (like: He said he didn’t want to go out with me again because he had to go home and do laundry-ew!). Or if I take a shot of: vodka, rum, gin, tequila, absinthe etc. and it’s too strong.

Or, if the subway’s taking too long, or the bus for that matter. Or to bother ERIN. It's kind of silly, really.
If I'm going to have a 'thing' shouldn't it be wearing sunglasses inside? Or, sporting a white hermes scarf like Miranda Priestley in 'The Devil Wears Prada', or saying 'HEYYYYY' like The Fonz? I don't want 'ew' to be my bag, you know?

Also, I might say ‘or’ too much. Or ‘also’. Or ‘so’.

Did I conclude anything here? I know I asked too many questions so in that arena: mission accomplished. Well, Erin never concludes anything either (zing!) soooo peace out.

Read it because it's short!

This is Mara, Erin's sister. I know this is not the most creative or interesting beginning for a blog, but had I just started writing you would've perhaps thought this was Erin and been very confused. I don't want to confuse you yet, so I'm putting it all out there in the very beginning.

Now I have to admit, I'm not crazy about this assignment. Don't get me wrong, I love writing. And I'm really, really good at it. Superior to most. In fact, I've had my own blog since October 2006. You are welcome to check it out at http://marastace.blogspot.com/. In fact, I'll just paste it here:

So we've already established I'm an amazingly talented and prolific writer, but how does this translate to writing someone else's blog? Do I write about that person? Do I write about myself as though I'm that person writing about me? Or do I do what that person would do in my situation, which in this case is probably turn off the computer and go get ice cream or a chocolate treat?

I suppose I'll just write about my evening last night.

It was pretty typical. Around sundown, I decided to patrol the local cemetary. It was fairly quiet at first. I was actually a little bored, so I invited my boyfriend to join me. He looks like this:

We were peacefully making out on an old tombstone when we were attacked by these two vampires! We took care of them of course, with a stake I fashioned out of an old fence post, but by the time they were dust I had to rush to get home before curfew. Can you believe it? Oh how I wish I were normal like other girls.

Tonight should be more peaceful. I will be purchasing new sheets from Macy's. These sheets:

You can make a donation to Mara's sheet fund via PayPal to marastace@hotmail.com. I wish I could write more, but I'm bored now. Peace out.

Speaking in Russian or My New Career

i recently started communicating with my good friend renee again. and, as it turns out, she is now a personal trainer. after much thought, i've decided that i, too shall become a personal trainer. here is why. when i asked renee what exactly it is that she does, she said:

Renee: really i get to make people cry and they pay me for it and then rave to their friends about how much they love me for torturing them i think this is the perfect career.

i agree. this DOES sound like the perfect career. i know what you're thinking.

You: but erin, you hate any physical activity and you don't like to be in any space that in any way resembles a work out area.

you have a point. but i've thought about this, and, really, i won't have to do any of the work. i will get to boss people around without the physical despair. i get to say LUNGE! and they have to lunge. i say one more rep, and then they have to do four more because that's the kind of sadist that i am. HA! also, i like to watch people cry:





isn't that funny?

renee thinks i can make just as many people cry by writing. but then i don't get the joy of causing them physical pain. so we'll see.

speaking of things that will make you cry, i'm going to israel, and therefore i won't be blogging for awhile. awkward, i know, but lucky for you, i may have a couple of guest bloggers to fill in whilst i'm away.

and while i'm segueing so sweetly, let's talk about awkward for a second. i was eating with izzy last night at this place called caracas, which was pretty damn tasty. i had the arepas de pabellon because the special sounded good, but she used the term beef chunks, which izzy so sweetly mentioned reminds her of vomit, and seeing as how i've been followed around by my hangover friend of late, i wanted to steer clear of vomit. so i had the shredded beef instead.

what was i talking about? oh. right. awkward. so, obviously i think everything is awkward. i mean, just the way it looks is TOTALLY awkward, but izzy asked about the etymology of the word awkward. awkwardly enough, i had no idea about its origins. she said it seems like a sort of modern idea, and i concur.

lo and behold, i got this email today:

Erin, The World Wide Web tells me that:

"When awkward was coined, in Scotland and northern England, it meant `turned in the wrong direction.' Middle English had an adjective awk, which meant `the wrong way round, backhanded,' and hence `perverse,' and with the addition of the suffix -ward this became awkward. Awk itself was adopted from Old Norse afugr, which is related to German ab `away' and English off. The suffix -ward, which underlies toward(s), forward, and a host of other English adverbs and adjectives, comes from a prehistoric Germanic *-warth. This in turn goes back to the Indo-European base *wert- `turn' (source also of English convert, version, etc.) -- so etymologically, awkward denotes `turn the wrong way round.' Awkward follwed a similar semantic path to awk, via `perverse, ill-adapted' to `clumsy.'" First recorded 1530. I wonder when it took on its less physical meaning and started being used to describe emotional clumsiness...

What else was I going to look up? Oh well ... have fun in Israel.

so, it turns out, izzy is a "follow-up" person. i should've know, as the only time she's ever flaked on me in the seven years i've known her is when she sliced her finger open and had to get stitches. i know, lame, she still should've come to see me, but whatever.

anyway, leah is arguing in russian behind me and i really need to turn around and see her facial expressions in order to get a good sense of what she's saying. not that she's saying it to me, but i want to eavesdrop.

awkward.

What are YOU Looking At? or Engagements are Catching

10 dec. 2007
i don't have much blogging time before i leave for our holiday party. can i just say that for once i am going to a holiday party that really means chanukah? can i? thank you.

for once, i am going to a holiday party that really means chanukah. in order not to make the goyem:


feel left out, we don't call it a chanukah party. (to be fair, i should point out the becky pictured above donning a christmas hat, is, in fact, jewish. goyem is her nickname. why? because she said--and this is verbatim--christmas is an american holiday. huh?)

i have to stop making fun of becky now because it's time to go. but i'll continue later.

11 dec. 2007
i am signifying the day change by writing in a new color. i chose this particular color because it is the color of my hangover. this particular hangover has been around off and on for quite a few days, now. i think it may have a little crush on me because it really won't leave me alone. i am trying to be polite, you know, feign minimal polite interest, but i'm pretty much over it. even a kansan will eventually just come out and blow off an unwanted pursuer.

to be fair, though, i did start drinking yesterday at three, which means that i was encouraging it. but i'm done with all that now! turned over a new leaf and all of that. really.

on an unrelated note, i was drunk last night, and i realized that i'm really funny. i mean, i always suspected because people who are high always find me to be hilarious, but it wasn't really confirmed until yesterday. now, the details of said confirmation are fuzzy (blurry?) at best, but i know that walking arm and arm with bear, i laughed a lot. also there were rainbows and puppies. all in all, a successful evening.

i'm switching colors again because i just found out that an undisclosed childhood friend and partner in laughing crime, has just gotten engaged. this is news. big news. big, BIG news! but i can't give her name because my blog is very popular and her friends might find out via the internet and then she'll be in trouble. phooey. this also means that if you get too close to me, someone will propose to you.

and that's today's moral.

Head Explosion or What Bwings us Togeber Today

my sister got engaged this weekend. this makes me think that she is busy, seeing as how the definition of engaged, according to dictionary.com states this to be the case. but i know that she isn't busy because i know her. i'm pretty sure she's watching buffy right now....

anyway, since you probably have never heard of someone "getting engaged" before, it means that she's going to marry this guy:

he's the one in the red.

for those of you who thinks he looks like sean, you are COMPLETELY wrong. sean looks like this:

he's the one in the blue

and for those of you (julie) who watched wonderfalls, sean is his own person and in no way resembles this guy:

tyron leitso

now that we've cleared all of that up and we know that mara is marrying tyron leitso this coming september, we can move on to my point. because, of course, i have one.

being there right after my sister got engaged was really surreal. it was wonderful and touching (i mean, captain morgan was there). and we celebrated old school with champaigne. and it would have continued to be a great thing if no one found out about the engagement. as it is, i was drunk on champaigne and those shots the captain gave us, so i told everyone i know about said engagement.

big mistake.

everyone is happy for my sister, which is great. the thing is, though, everyone is now a little bit concerned about me. generally, when someone's older sister gets engaged, they would look to me (the obvious next in line), wink and say "guess you're next" and then wink some more. but people in my life look at me and they can't wink. i mean, at least some of them are physically capable of it, the reason they can't wink is because everyone knows i'm not next for anything.

let's look at the evidence. the text message i received from special lady kt when i wrote to her about mar-mar was as something like:

oh my god! call me if you need to talk. i love you!

the way i read this is:

oh my god! you are so alone in the world and no one will ever love you, but i pity you, even though i still won't let you spoon with me when we share a bed, and i need my own blanket, too, but if you need to talk, call me.

this from a best friend.

and then today my dad says something like:

i had to tell grandma not to mention mara's engagement around you. i mean, i could just see her turning to mara and saying, you're in love, honey, you're happy and getting married, then turning to barret and saying, and you've got your movie, you're on your way to being an acting success, and then turning to you and....well, that's why i talked to her.

i told dad that i was glad i wasn't going to see the family this winter. (which was a lie, but yeesh! can you believe he said that?) i also realized from this conversation that while my dad clearly adores me (and who wouldn't? i am pretty much his perfect little clone),

he's the one on the right (i'm the one on the left)

he clearly has no faith that i will ever in any way be successful in love, life, or the film industry. i don't know where he gets this stuff.

and i want to set the record straight. i am NOT going to die alone. i am completely lovable and wonderful and very attractive and not at all desperate. (please feel free to send this on to eligible bachelors that you know....) i'm awesome, and i call no man mister!

and all this is to say congratulations to my sister (who will probably quit reading before this point in the entry because there is buffy to watch) and chris. also congratulations to barret for his movie.

i'm going to go eat a bucket of ice cream (which i still have since i refuse to share it with anyone).