Volunteering or A Sight for Sore Eyes

mayhaps you recall awhile back when i kept signing up to volunteer and then ditched out at the last minute. my reasoning was that this way, i can still get the acclaim from people around me:

oh erin! you're SO great! you sign up to volunteer!

without actually having to be around people in need. not that i have really obvious commitment issues or anything, because i TOTALLY don't...ahem.

anyway, this week, i decided, what the hell? i'll go, i'll go. i'll go. i'll go. and i did. well, i went once, not four times. and i was a little bit late getting there. but that's not the point!

the point is something like this: so i went to do this project i sometimes do where i help people with severely low or no vision do art projects. basically, i'm their eyes in whatever capacity that means for the person i happen to be working with. (deal with the preposition there, dad. i'm exerting my independence). i like this program because i get to play with ribbons and paint, and if things end up looking a little crappy, no one's the wiser. everyone wins!

but this week, it became abundantly clear that i should NOT, in fact, be volunteering, that, in fact, tis better for me to drop out before actually appearing at the volunteer site.

turns out, i steal.

from the blind.

this is actually 100% true, but in my defense, i NEEDED that wire in order to complete my halloween costume, and what with broomball games* and hamburgers all this week, i didn't know when i would fit in a trip to buy the wire. also i kept forgetting. and i'm lazy.

but if it makes everyone feel better, i feel slightly bad about stealing from the blind. i would put it somewhere on the feeling bad spectrum between kicking kittens and not telling someone his headlights are still on:

pretty low on the continuum, really, but just in case, and since i just finished repenting, i thought i'd get it out there.

really, i don't want there to be any secrets between us....thanks for understanding. you're a doll.

*misleading. no brooms were actually used in the playing of this game.

My Body's Aching and My Time is at Hand or Free Fallin'

last night, mikey made me go to a total body workout class where a guy who looked like this:

made me feel like this:

today, i am sore. my body aches, and i know more than ever that my body exists because i can feel everything that it's doing, and not in a good way.

so, when i FELL in front of disheveled british guy (and we're kind of dressed alike again):

it was painful in multiple ways....

i mean, can you still be twins with someone once you've fallen on your ass in front of them?

did i jar our twinness out of our systems by falling?

did i really just do the splits?!

can i do them again?

all in all, it's been a horrible day. i hurt. so much. and i blame mikey....

The Haphazard Journey or Why are You Here?

so, a couple of weeks ago (who's counting?) this guy shows up at the office. not a big deal, and i wouldn't normally notice, as there are often people that i've never seen before floating about (also i may have a touch of the alzheimer's), but this guy was kinda comical.

he was all...flustered and...expressive and didn't seem to know where he was going. in short, he looked exactly like this photo i took of him:



a couple of days later, i noticed the same fellow wandering the halls aimlessly. i started to wonder if he actually worked with me or if he somehow found his way into the building and got lost. like in that book about the mall except that i don't actually remember what that book is about:


anyway, long story short(ish), he spoke and turns out he has an accent. thus was born the nickname disheveled british guy.* (does it count as a nickname when you don't know a person's actual name?)

so, i saw disheveled british guy yesterday, and we were dressed alike. no, really, it was like the day becky and i accidentally dressed to match back at the old job:

it was so crazy, and we laughed heartily about it.

ha ha ha!

then TODAY, we were dressed kind of alike AGAIN:



it was SO strange, and i think that disheveled british guy and i might actually be twins. it's strange to finally meet your twin after all of these years. i really feel like lily tomlin and bette midler when they meet themselves in big business:



i wonder what he's going to wear tomorrow....

*disheveled british guy might actually be australian.

**i'm not the only person who has noticed disheveled british guy. there may even be a plot to turn him into sheveled japanese girl just to mix things up. but perhaps i've said too much already....

Burlap Sacks or Why No One Will Ever Love Me (Ever)

so, jeff, a friend of mine, recently reminded me that he is taller, more lithe and generally more attractive than me. he did it in the most back-handed way, which was to basically tell me that he is so tall, it makes things difficult for him.

like the scene in bambi where he's trying to ice skate:

but you see how cute bambi is?

then jeff goes on to tell me that it's probably easy for me to skate and what not since i'm so short and squat. you know, all of that low center of gravity crap that is basically telling me that i'm like a lumpy sack of potatoes:

you think that this would be enough. i mean, i'm already crying (you want to point out how puffy my eyes get when i'm in TEARS, jeff??) and everything. but no. he goes ON to say :

sorry. if it makes you feel any better most shirts fit me like drapes.

hm...nope. doesn't make me feel better. i struggled long and hard to get into my t-shirt this morning since my head is too big, my neck too fat and my body all lumpy, so the fact that no one makes clothing to fit your skinny-ass frame doesn't actually make me feel better.

what does? the prospect of peanut butter and chocolate ice cream and hibernating through the winter:

(okay, so this isn't ENTIRELY me, but no one creepily takes pictures of me while i'm asleep. at least, not to my knowledge....)

anyway, thanks jeff. no, no, really. i like sleeping ALONE FOREVER since no one will ever love me....

sniffle.



PROOF!