PDB's 24th Birthday or The Wager

so, today matthew turned 24. in honor of this occasion, mara, barret, chris and i took him out to this psychotic little indian place. no joke, there were four right next to each, two up and two down. bear and i accidentally got dragged into the wrong one, and we almost had to eat there despite the fact that mara and chris were actually waiting a different one.


conversation:

the strange little man: come in, sit down!

us: oh, we're meeting people. *looking around*

tslm: yes, yes, come in.

us: are they here?

tslm: no, you're the first.

us: (having already spoken to mara about how she's there) um.... *glancing at each other*

tslm: where are you going?

us: we, uh, er *bolting for the door*

so then we arrive upstairs and find mara and chris. now, barret describes this restaurant as being a kitten inside a box of fireworks with javan (psychotic older brother of jayanna) standing outside with a match. the restaurant describes it as "where chili pepper lights meets (sic) christmas tree lights". you be the judge:



anyway, after almost having a seizure and/or stroke at the restaurant, pdb eventually arrives and we regale him with birthday love and alcohol (also of the birthday variety). after dinner, we somehow decided that it would be a good idea to make a little wager. let's blame mara, because i think it was her doing.

so, this is how it goes: wouldn't it be interesting for us to each give something up for the month of march? we'll call it march madness, and we'll go a month without said vice. yeah, ha, ha, that'll be fun. these are the things we are giving up:

pdb- shopping and all that incurs. he can still take cabs and buy alcohol. (just one vice at a time.)

chris- coffee. he can have one cup decaf a day.

barret- smoking cigarettes.

mara- eating out. includes buying beverages, other than water.

and me? i'm giving up sugar. i am allowed one serving of fruit a day and that's it. after we made our pact, we all immediately regretted it. but being the stubborn people we are, none of us rescinded. yet. of course, we're not starting until tomorrow. we are each allowed my birthday to indulge in our addiction, so there's a "free" day in there. if any of us make it that long.

i'll keep you posted.

Blocked or How I Wrote About Nothing (Again)

remember on doogie howser, m.d. how doogie would write clever and meaningful entries on his super-advanced computer at the end of each episode?

yeah, well, i wish i could harness the ever-insightful and easily summed up wisdom of dhmd, as i like to call him, because:

1. i'm into circularity

2. i don't know how the hell to sum up the past few days.

now, i know it's not really my style to sum up, anyway. i'm more of a pick-a-random-happening-and-go-into-way-too-much-detail-about-it person. but, to be honest, i can't think of anything to write about.

let me take a moment to talk about this whole "nothing to write about" phenomenon. ben doesn't believe in writer's block. he says that sometimes he is just empty of ideas. this from someone getting his masters in poetry. i mean, really, how UN-poetic is that? besides, i think saying you don't have any ideas temporarily is the SAME THING as writer's block.

either way, i'm stuck. i don't know how i'm going to finish (start) my screenplay OR the t.v. show debbie and i are "working on" if i don't have anything to write about. i need a muse. you know like josie from the book the immortal:

don't pretend like you don't know what i'm talking about. christopher pike rocked (and still does, as far as i'm concerned).

and on top of the double problem of the screenplay and television series, i can't even come up with a decent blog entry. this is sad.

and the only solution is to peruse the immortal for ideas. i'll let you know how that goes.

The Complete First Season or I Wanna Be KATE!

so, today i received a very intriguing email. the subject was Dear Friends of Becky. thinking it was maybe an invitation to a surprise party for becky or something, i opened it. it was as follows:


now, i've actually only met kate once. and in that time she and becky were pilfering from my department. (to be fair, i DID open the door and those multicolored highlighters are very difficult to resist....)


but this email made me like her. i mean, REALLY like her. see, there are many things that kate and i have in common. for instance, we both sometimes talk to becky. what's that all about?

also, kate and becky did power hour for valentine's day:




and even though becky wussed out 2/3rds of the way through, kate plugged on. like a champ. i also drank on valentine's day, although it was more of the beer then margaritas then (ahem) more beer variety. also i played darts, which is super fun (although our game went on just a little too long. once you pass the two hour point, it gets old). so, there's that, too. even though that has little to do with kate.

also, kate is in rabbinical school, a long-held dream of mine. well, to be fair, rabbinical school seems like kind of a pain. my long-held dreams are more about actually BEING a rabbi. although, you know, the journey and all of that. i just can't wait to look like this guy:


sometimes my sibs say that i would be a great rabbi. other times, they advise me agin it (when they're feeling like the southern chicken from futurama). either way, kate is living the dream and procrastinating doing her homework at the same time. (this is less like me. i'm more inclined to make someone else do my homework FOR me than laze about for awhile before doing it myself). that is awesome.

i DO like that kate wrote the aforementioned email. that gains my total approval as it was both funny and something i would do. also, writing personal emails while one should be working gets a check plus.

overall, kate deserves some blog space, and i'm happy to oblige. making fun of becky is always a good idea, kate is funny, and debbie and i both got some enjoyment out of that short little email.

so kate, here's to your awesomeness:

Act I or How I Quit My Day Job

okay, i am finally concluding, as debbie and becky already have, that inextricably linking our three blogs is problematic. i am forced to write, even if i have nothing to say or don't feel like it. it's like a throw back to college. or high school. or middle school. elementary school was alright. beautiful building and all:



but since we can't all be randolph raiders forever, it's time to grow up and talk about grown up things.

i've decided to write a screenplay. i don't know yet what the screenplay will be about, and as far as i know i have no idea how to write a screenplay, but how difficult can it be? i mean, if gigli can be a movie, i can write a movie. plus, we all know that i like to write parts for people, such as:

you: you're thinking of writing a screenplay i hear.

me: yes, that's right. who told you?

you: you did, just now. via blog.

me: wow, word travels fast around here....

as you can see, i'm well on my way. i already know how to break up lines by who is saying them. also, i can do stage directions.

(erin enters from the front room and sits gingerly on the couch, feet up on the glass-topped coffee table. she pulls out the laptop and opens it. mara enters and brings her a drink.)

i've got it! i'll write a screenplay about a girl who starts a blog and how that sets off this whole crazy series of blog-related events and then something happens and it's resolved. brilliant!

wait, no, that other thing. boring.

hm.... maybe instead of writing a screenplay, i will use my witch-like powers to make people do my bidding by writing about it. (example: mara just brought me a drink because i wrote that she would. only, she actually brought it before i wrote that, which is how i knew to write it.). okay, let's try it out....

(annie hsu shakes her head slowly and thinks to herself, erin has finally lost it. i should send her a present. or possibly go visit her. or get her a job at my company.)

now, we just have to wait and see if that worked.....

doo be doo...

dum de dum....

la de da...

zippity do dah?

it's taking too long for annie to do my bidding, which makes me think that MAYBE this isn't working. or, maybe it is and she's just really slow (like in a condescending, wink, wink, pat her head kind of way.) i guess it's on to plan b.

i'll let you know when i figure out what plan b is. better yet, you devise plan b and fill me in later. right now, it's time for buffy.

February 16th or Forgotten Birthday

usually, i am really good at remembering people's birthdays. this makes a lot of people feel bad for not remembering my birthday, which is just an added bonus, really, because i don't put any effort into remembering birthdays, and they'd have to think about mine to remember it. unlikely, but it's nice that they feel guilty, anyway.

the fact is, i just have a useless brain where i can remember every line from the simpsons and futurama, as well as born on dates of people that i know (or have stolen their wallets, which therefore puts me in possession of their licenses, thus giving me infallible knowledge of their DOBs. or in play doh's case, patrick's DOB since play doh hasn't gotten a new license since his was stolen, but he refuses to miss out on the bar scene just because he doesn't have a "real" id.)

chances are, if i fail to call, text, or send a card on your birthday, it's not because i forgot, rather because i don't like you or you did something to piss me off recently. or i got distracted by something shiny:




this is why it is SO disconcerting that someone posted a message on my blog about her/his birthday. this ambiguous comment has been mocking me because i obviously forgot. to add insult to injury, said person posted ANONYMOUSLY, which is not only annoying to spell while hitting the shift key (yes, yes, i could just push caps lock, but i don't wanna), but also means that i still don't know whose birthday i missed.

let's look at the facts.

fact 1. this person posted a comment mentioning said birthday on february 16th, approximately 8:35 pm. this could mean the birthday in question is february 16th, or it could mean that the birthday just passed, (feb. 15th) and the comment was deliberating on how i failed to remember his/her birthday within the given time restraints, thus totally failing as a human being. OR it could be a subtle hint, like how jayanna always has birthday countdowns so no one is allowed to forget her birthday is july 31st (the same as manda bee's, in case you were wondering), and said birthday is actually today (feb. 17th).

fact 2. a preliminary scouring of the internet (read: i went on myspace, facebook AND friendster) failed to turn up a single friend who has a birthday on feb. 16th (and who is at all likely to read this blog. mike loretto and jodi bloom: happy late birthday! even though, i'm fairly certain you aren't reading my blog....)

fact 3. THIS IS DRIVING ME CRAZY! okay, i'm a terrible person and a bad friend. we all suspected this when instead of thanking my guest bloggers, i insulted them. but i honestly don't remember who's birthday it was yesterday, and for my own sanity, i need to know! this torture is getting us nowhere.

listen, here's what i'm going to do. i'm going to bribe you with promises of birthday cake and/or alcohol. i will provide one, the other, or both of these things to you, anonymous, forgotten friend, if you step forward and identify yourself, thus making me feel better (a face to the forgotten) and worse (how could i forget your birthday? it's so obvious now! kind of thing):


see? i'll even throw in some cigarettes from people who resolved to quit smoking, didn't, but throw out the occasional half-smoked pack in a moment of guilt, but then just go and buy some more the next day. everybody wins!

of course, i can't promise that i won't get distracted by something shiny while on my way to delivering said cake and alcohol (calchol??) and, of course, cigarettes.

i might be a little late....

Truancy or How to Be Late to Work

i have never been much of a rebel. i mean, sure, i lie a lot (and i mean A LOT. i'm lying right now because i don't actually lie that much. what?), but that's not really rebellion. and sure, i skipped a lot of high school, but high school is lame, and, anyway, there were more fun places to be:

pictured: actual day of skipping class

plus, my parents usually knew that i was skipping. mainly because i told them and/or got truancy notices. but i'm not on trial here!

the point is, i never rebelled against my parents. i never had to assert my individuality by pretending i didn't know them. i didn't even drink in high school, so i didn't have to lie about my activities (even though i could've since i'm such a liar).



but lately, all i want to do is rebel. not against my parents (probably because they approve of everything i do, as long as i'm witty about it), but against life in general. i've been fantasizing today--between writing annoying emails for work--about what it would be like to rebel against my life. here are some things i've come up with (in list form for debbie and annie's benefit. they seem to enjoy lists):



1. going to work late. okay, this seems really tame, and, as you may have read in a previous posting, i can't actually BE late, even when i'm trying. at worst i'm a couple of minutes early. but still, it would be nice to saunter in at 9:15 AM and not even care. take THAT non-profit sector! (of course, leah and i were talking today about how half of our office doesn't show up until 9:30 or 10 AM. one co-worker sometimes gets in at 11 and just kind of non-chalantly walks around in her coat so that everyone can see how late she is. perhaps we should start a who will be the latest to work war....)



2. pushing moms intentionally (and if need be, their annoying children). i am SO TIRED of mothers lecturing me. they lecture me on the subway, over the phone, and in lines about things that aren't even my fault! listen, lady, i know it's not polite to push oneself onto a train. MOVE IN four steps and the people behind me will stop pushing me into your obnoxiously over-sized fur coat. i can see that you have a child, but he's sixteen now, i think he can manage to fend for himself.



3. waking up whenever i feel like it. nuff said.



4. having fun without spending a lot of money. i don't actually HAVE any money, so it's easy not to spend it. having fun, though, becomes difficult, since i need alcohol and/or darts to have a good time. or a dance floor. or spaghetti. yeah, i said it, spaghetti.



okay, i'm tired of this list. but just be aware, if i don't go into work on monday, it's because i'm rebelling against life...



not because i have the day off....

A Day Off! or My New Boots Take II

i had a dream last night (actually this morning) about how, due to inclement weather, we did not have work today. when i woke up, i was so convinced that this was the case (even though it was only raining, not even snowing or icing outside) that i ACTUALLY called the number we have in case work is canceled due to bad weather, attacks by godzilla, or the coming of the messiah. actually, they'd probably expect us here early for that last one. maybe if the messiah WERE godzilla....



anyway, i called the number (which is actually just the general number here). fingers a-trembling, i dialed the extension that directly correlated with my fate. would i be spared this terrible thing called "work"?

no.

not only was there no message about work being canceled, but the automated voice said that the extension wasn't even a valid one. they disconnected the work cancellation line so that we'd be stuck here forever! i was reminded of that scene at the beginning of joe vs. the volcano.

and then i got back into bed, determined to be late to work rather than early.

that also didn't happen. i dallied as much as possible, but i was still on time. even a few minutes early. it was irritating to say the least (also, to say the most).

so, today womps. but, in order to cast my eyes upon that silver-lining, i feel i should mention one thing.

my NEW BOOTS! okay, they aren't new anymore, but you will be happy to know that they are STILL AMAZING! remember how excited i was about them at first? well, that hasn't worn off. there were tons of those slushy puddles all over the damn place today, but my feet stayed warm and toasty in my NEW BOOTS. i'm glad i spent a ridiculous amount of money on them. so there.

i was going to go into something else, perhaps how i used the word "dallied" and how awkward that is. but meh. i'm already over it.

and you are, too.

Fame! or I'm Gonna Live Forever

so, most people who know me know that all i want in life is to be famous. some people don't understand this. they say:

they: erin, i don't understand this. what do you mean you want to be famous?

to which i respond:

me: just that. i want to be famous.

and then we have a conversation like:

they: you mean, you want to be a famous actor or singer?

me: no. i mean, i like those things, but they aren't necessary for my fame.

they: so, you want to be wealthy?

me: i could use a little extra cash flow, but i don't need to make that much money. i played MASH yesterday, so i know wealth isn't in my future.

they: so, what exactly is it that you want with fame?

well, let me tell you. i really, really, really can't stand that there are people who i know about who don't know who i am. who are they that they are so important? seriously, i went to a bar awhile ago, and as i sauntered up to the door i saw a familiar looking man standing on the sidewalk, smoking, with a tiny blonde draped over his arm. it took me a second to realize that i didn't know this man, as i initially thought, rather it was heath ledger. i got so angry and indignant about the fact that i knew who he was, even though he didn't have a damn clue who i was that i just turned on my heels and went home.

and now he's dead. thanks for bringing that up. (this is a true story, by the way.)

anyway, people should know who i am. they don't have to love me. it doesn't have to be based on any sort of "talent" or anything. i just want more people to know of me than i know of. this is all i want. fame:


what's the point of all of this? well, my friend, let me tell you.

finally. FINALLY there is a blog out there dedicated to talking about JUST me and becky. that's right! debbie has decided to dedicate her blog to talking about ME and becky. so, after many years of waiting, i'm finally getting what i deserve. a forum for people to discuss me. so go. go and spread the word.

i'll wait here.

Laughter is Contagious or Cover Your Mouth When you Cough

i think i'm going through another manic phase:


there are some pluses to my manic phases. for instance, if one is going to be manic, it may as well be on a monday, when there is a catchy and annoying bangles song associated with said mood and day for her to then run repeatedly through her head and possibly start humming aloud in order that she may bring others down with her. just as an example, of course.

another plus is that apparently, i tend to pose as jesus when i'm manic:


so that's another good thing.

also, when i'm manic, i'm more fun for a minute. things are funny, even when they aren't and i laugh heartily at jokes, whether they be funny or told by becky or sean. of course, it's a little frightening. what's that you say?

ha. ha ha. ha! hahahahahahahahahahahahahah. a-ha. that's SO HILARIOUS!

see the problem? of course, that picture isn't even me. it's mara, but we look enough alike, and apparently people are so scared of me when i'm manic that they won't even try to take a picture of me while i'm guffawing.

but there are also some problems with my mania. for one, it makes me a little jittery. this is bad because i flail about a lot in general, and if i'm manic, this is exacerbated and then i tend to poke out people's eyes and punch a lot of noses.


this would be okay, but sometimes punched noses bleed, and who wants to clean that up? not i.

another problem with mania is that it is usually quickly followed by depression (see previous blog). this goes back and forth for awhile, and downward spirals aren't really that fun.



actually, that looks pretty fun. maybe i'll go find a downward spiral to slide down before my mania wears off.


weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Depression or Escapism is an Art Form

on my way to work this morning, stomping in puddles and squinting out of my rain-stained glasses, trying not to cry, i was thinking about one of my many (many) superiors, rebecca.

rebecca is quite the social butterfly:

while i sit at home on dark, cold winter nights, rebecca is out gallivanting around manhattan. last night, for instance, she had a date. (i already called dibs if things don't work out between them. and there's a line because this guy is apparently wealthy. we're up to "sloppy fourths" with becky, so take a number.)

sometimes, rebecca has benefit dinners or goes to the gym or drinks (but not with me. she always has an excuse for why she can't do THAT....)

maybe there's something to this "doing things". maybe people who do things with their evenings are happier, or at least less prone to burst into tears than me. maybe if i found a special purpose (but not in that "the jerk" sort of way) i too could somehow make it through the day to day shenanigans that currently make my life a living hell.

becky volunteers. i mean, she just started today, but she feels smug about it, superior and therefore good about life.

becca throws herself into her professional life at her hoity toity company. she makes a lot of money and gets rung by rung closer to the top of that ladder. (i'm sure she'll get there, too.)

i should think about this more. wait for it....wait for it....

okay, so i thought about it. it turns out that this theory only holds true for those named rebecca. therefore i've decided to change my name to rebecca.

no, scratch that. i've decided to get back into my bed until spring. wake me up when the sun comes out.

Spam or Karma Served Hot

i don't really believe that people gets what's coming to them. sometimes people are assholes, and they are just allowed to be assholes for the entirety of life. and seeing as how i don't believe in heaven or hell. unless you count going to a bar in topeka and running into everyone from high school as hell. and i sometimes do:



i don't really think that the world is balanced like that.

and yet.

i started getting TONS of spam to all of my email addresses. yes, all six of my emails have started bombarding me with the stuff. (i mean, i expect it of you, yahoo, but gmail? my beloved gmail?!?) my cup overfloweth with this crap, and i can't escape the offers to add a couple of inches to my unit, see paris hilton naked, or buy prescription drugs without a prescription. it attacks me from all sides:



secretly, i know why this is happening to me. as much as i have tried to poo-poo the idea of karma as ludicrous (due to the fact that life obviously isn't fair. i mean, matt leblanc had TWO tv shows AND starred in a movie with a monkey. what is THAT?), in recent days i have started to sing a different tune.

i have a confession to make.

my name is erin, and i am a spammer. (hi, erin.)

reluctant though i may be to do this, i do, in fact, send emails out to large groups of people who then email me back hateful responses about how they want to be off my list or they'll come after my children and loved ones. but i don't WANT to do this. and, to be fair, these people did give "me" their email addresses. and (because i'm obviously feeling guilty) i immediately remove people once they ask. and threaten me. three times. but i'm not on trial here!

maybe they are upset with me because i'm not giving them access to naked celebrity videos. maybe they can't read my quirky emails without downing handfuls of the prescription drugs that i haven't offered. at any rate, that bitch karma has certainly come back to flip me the bird.



maybe it's time to apologize and give something back to society for those little bits of sanity that i have stolen from people. or maybe instead, i'll just quit my job and go full time as a spammer.

anyone need any naked pictures of britney offering you drugs to elongate your wang? you know who to call....

End of the Week or Is it Time to Go Yet?

i find many things perplexing about "corporate america". (i mean, really, there are only ten people in my department, and i'm at a non-profit, so i'm pretty sure that there are some ridiculous things i'm missing out on. but i digress.)

for instance, inter-office mailing up or down two flights of stairs. (of course, once i decided to carry the mail upstairs myself because i thought it so silly, and what happened? i then had to relay a message back to the person who wanted to interoffice mail in the first place. hence, i became a messenger boy.)


then there is the blaming bug that goes around whenever anything goes wrong (inevitably, the bug comes back to bite me or leah on the ass, even though often, neither of us are involved initially).


and recently, ira has started wearing a bow tie more often, which i find offensive on many levels.



but the most perplexing and annoying thing are the emails. i get so, so, SO many emails every day, and some of these emails go back and forth, when a two minute phone call would easily suffice.

let's look at a random day. yesterday because i haven't deleted all of those yet. so, i just counted and i received 83 emails yesterday. 83! and that's just to my personal inbox. (i also check three other mailboxes every day, although most of those just have a lot of advice on how i can cure my erectile dysfunction.)

this is absurd. i don't like emailing at work because it means that i don't want to email my friends and loved ones when i'm not at work. of course, i don't really do that. if i email people at all, it is from gmail, while i am sitting at my desk, wondering when they're going to fire me for doing personal things at work. tomorrow?

anyway, i think this email thing is a conspiracy to isolate every person from every other person in some sick experiment to see how long and to what diminutive quality of life we can live if we have only the minimum amount of human interaction. i'm going to research this.

if i find anything out, i'll email you the details.