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!

First Day of My Life or A Conversation with Matthew

My dearest Erin-

I have drafted this note to you in order to tell you that I'm quitting my life and moving to Hogwarts. I'm tired of my boring life that involves me moving papers around, shipping things to people, socializing with people I dont really care for, and drinking. Well, let's hope Hogwarts has some great booze, otherwise I'm not going. Now, I know what you're thinking! This is why I decided to email you and inform you of this decision. Yes! A million times YES! You are MORE than welcome to join me on this adventure. In fact I hope you do, for that train ride looks scary and I don't want to do it alone. Think of it you + me + magic!

Now, comes the part where we have to decide which type of wizards' we want to be.  I am shedding this life and with it, my personality (why are you applauding?).  So I'm up for suggestions on what type of person to be in the future.  All I know is that I don't want to be the red headed one.  For I do not like red heads.  Except the one from Will and Grace, she's pretty.  Enough!  That was our old life, no more referencing reality tv shows, the friends we associated with, and a benefit to the both us: our past sexual escapades! 

Dear Play Doh Boy,
I recognize your desire to get away from it all (especially the red
heads of the world), but really, do you think this is the best
solution? Hogwarts is a boarding school, so I'm sure there's more
cocaine than alcohol, and I know you don't like to be away from
absolut for too long.

 

Besides, I've seen the movies, and there only seems to be one or two

minorities (although the way Hermione's hair is, she's definitely got
some coffee in her milk), and now that you live in Harlem, methinks
you'll miss the colorful palette of humans and Nikes alike.

Alas, if you're set on going to Hogwarts, I'll of course go with you.
We'll join the Slytherins, and I shall shed my sunshiny demeanor and
torture people by feeding on their insecurities and making them cry
themselves to sleep at night. It'll be just like high school all over
again. I shall call you Mr. Biggems and you shall wear an eye patch.

Of course, there is still time to reconsider. Maybe instead, we should

move to Chicago and be on Dance TV with Sarah Jessica Parker....

Love,
Erin

Erin-

 

As I do in life quite often I have changed my mind.  Instead I think you and I shall become reality tv stars.  This way you get to be what you've always wanted to be: famous for no reason and I will get laaaaaid.

 

This way I can have cocaine AND alcohol for starters.  You know I can't live without my vices.  Also, you're right, a uniform everyday?  I'd go mad (Slytherin mad).  I definitely need a place where I can express my freedom and individuality with mass produced Nike's!

 

Now as far as our shedding the old identities and obtaining new ones this is perfect for reality tv.  Not only will the edit dept. decide what kind of people we should be I've put some thought into it also.  You can be the 'black woman who is bitter at the world for opressing her on so many different levels' and I'll be the 'Naive gay boy who doesn't understand why race is such a big deal, yet constantly mad at the world for thinking he is the typical gay (said with a lisp)'  However we find common ground in Dance Dance Revolution. End scene. 

Love,

Matthew

PDB-

The only problem is, I'm Blackish, not Black. They'll want that
"attitude" thing that Robert Townsend describes so well in his
masterpiece "Hollywood Shuffle,"

and we all know that deep down, I'm white, sadly. But that's what 

comes of growing up in Kansas. Wait! That's it! Our reality show 

shall be called Growing Up Kansan, and we'll watch as two Kansans 

(us) try to make it in the big city. That way, we don't actually have 

to go to Kansas, and we'll still get to be on TV. And maybe, just 

maybe, there will be cookies....

Sincerely,
Erin

Kansan Erin (for this is what we shall refer to one another during the show-no it's not awkward)-

 

I'm afriad, if there aren't cookies, I wont be doing anything!  Now, I did have this plan to make you 'blacker' and it was going to be a lot of fun (since it wont be happening I wont dangle all the fun in front of you then take it away but it did involve a lot of kentucky fried chicken and possibly a rental of a hummer with rims) 

This is going to work!  Now, do we know anyone in the entertainment, show producing, making random people famous arena?  No.  This could possibly be a problem.  However, at my job I've learned to be a 'solution thinking' individual.  I say we sleep with as many people as we possibly can and then we'll eventually sleep with someone who can help us.  This process can also include cookies.  Just fyi.  

Kansan Matthew

Kansan Matthew,

This sounds like the best plan I've heard all day. Now go. Go sleep

around! But careful not to get crumbs in the bed.

Love,

Kansan Erin

G Train or That's the Spot

so, even though i try to avoid it as much as possible, i went to brooklyn this weekend. going to brooklyn wasn't such a big deal this time, as i was going from manhattan, rather than queens. the hipsters and trendy, wealthy young families didn't notice as i slipped onto the train and snuck my way into fort green. so first crisis averted.

it wasn't until i was on the way back out that the great train debate began. do i take the a train back through manhattan and add an additional hour and a half to my journey? do i seek out the elusive g train and try for a straight shot into queens?

for those of you non-new yorkers who may not know, the g train goes back and forth between queens and brooklyn, effectively by-passing manhattan. the good thing about it is that it makes for a shorter journey. the bad thing about it is that this is purely theoretical.

since the g train doesn't go into manhattan, no one (e.g. manhattanites) cares about it, and so it only runs when, and strangely, where it feels like it. in fact, freud wrote extensively on how it doesn't even exist.

but the g train was actually discovered by whipple, and if you doubt its existence, you may just not be looking hard enough.

finding a g train station is the first hurdle in trying to actually take this train. it's kind of like in harry potter how the platform is hidden from site. only for the g train, it actually moves. so just because you may have caught a g train in one location previously in your life, it in no way guarantees that you will catch it there again. in fact, spotting a g train in the first place is likened to one of the most prodigious and unbelievable experiences in life:

but say you get beyond that first hurdle and you ACTUALLY discover one of these stations. then say that the train ACTUALLY comes to said station and ACTUALLY stops to pick you up. you may think that you're in the clear, but let me tell you, you aren't.

see, just because you get on the g train, it doesn't mean it's going to take you where you want to go. it doesn't even mean it's going to take you where it's supposed to go. no, seriously look:

note the dotted line. it sometimes goes to those places, and sometimes doesn't. and not on any schedule that i can figure out.

anyway, luck was with me this weekend, and the g train picked me up and dropped me in a place that was close enough for me to actually find my way home. and while that was nice, i'm in no way willing to endorse this train. i mean, i'm not even sure that it exists sometimes.

but for now, glide on the g train. oo yeah, ee yeah oo yeah. yes it's the g train. g train, holy roller....

What's My Name or Erin Squared

so, i currently have a house guest. this is not anything unusual, as i often have a house guest (not to be confused with the house boys of annie's blog posts...), but this particular house guest poses some problems. 

see, her name is erin. for those of you who haven't realized this yet, my name is ALSO erin (although, to be clear, i'm older [and wiser], so i was erin first), so when people ask what i'm doing, and i say i'm going home to hang out with erin, they think that i've turned into one of those people who talks about themselves in third person. then they look at me with a mixture of contempt and pity, slowly shake their heads and walk away. and erin doesn't like that*!

if i CAN manage to get through the awkward confusion of the fact that our names are the same, but that i'm not, in fact, talking about myself, then arises a second problem. people want to know how i know erin. so, i tell them, truthfully, that i know her from haiti. so they think she's haitian, which i'm pretty sure she's not:

not that there aren't whitey-magee haitians. i just know for a fact that erin is from colorado:

it's just i don't know her from there, i know her from haiti, so confusion abounds.  

unfortunately, our whole friendship has been peppered with such problems. there was a whole debate over who should be erin 1 and who should be erin 2 while we were in haiti. see, she was there first, so erin 1 would make sense, but since i'm older, i should really be erin 1. see how boring haiti is? we were forced to discuss these things at length.

but, i should get used to it. while she won't be on my couch forever, erin will be in new york to go to grad school with former first children:

so people are going to think that erin is speaking in third person all of the time when really she is going to hang out with erin. 

conclusion? to be honest, i don't even know what happened up there....

*erin 2, alias erin 1, alias, haiti erin, alias, girl on my couch could not be reached to verify her dislike of speaking in third person, but erin 1, alias erin 2, alias me, for sure doesn't like it. she wishes that she could've reached the formerly mentioned erin so as to make the joke work on multiple levels. alas, things didn't work out. now erin is sad. what?

Animal Farm or Here Kitty, Kitty Kitty

a lot of thoughts went (very rapidly- i AM add...) through my head as i was thinking about what write today. i mean, it's definitely time. you've gone too long without having to read (er, i mean GETTING to read) my deepest most inner thoughts.

so.

first i thought i'd tell you all the tragedy of how i'm dying. but i thought that would bring you too much joy:

then mara fowarded me an email that she wrote to kristen and helen eons ago, and it reminded me that i used to write funny emails, too. i was then going to dedicate a whole blog to reposting old emails that a lot of you already had to suffer through once. i mean, really, my mass emails were like a prelude to my blog. i decided agin it. (although if you missed them the first time around, i'm happy to send them your way.)

mara's email also reminded me of how funny SHE is, but then i couldn't printscreen the email to show you all, and i gave up on communicating that, as well.

and then, somehow, i got to thinking about the different animals i've been compared to in my life. thus i bring you:

ERIN'S BLOG ABOUT ANIMALS SHE'S BEEN COMPARED TO IN HER LIFE

my first animal comparison memory was being compared to cera from the land before time. interesting fact about this (interesting being the nicest word for no one really cares) is that while i was first compared to cera when the land before time (or tlbt as we hipsters like to call it) when the movie first came out. i was later compared to her when i went to college. specialady kt also saw the resemblance:

some might argue that cera doesn't count, considering she's

a. a cartoon

and

b. a dinosaur (as a kansan i don't believe in evolution and/or dinosaurs)

making her doubly fictitious. don't you worry, though, i have a whole long list of other animals

that i've been compared to:

cats (affectionate when i want to be, bitey when i don't):

dogs (although some just say bitch, but i'm sure they meant the loveable, fluffly kind of dog....):

chipmunks:

ferrets (for my desire, nay NEED to get into small spaces and break things. also the smell):

and just today i was compared to a koala:

a hedgehog:

and a unicorn (thanks, sean!):

what does this say about me? the same thing all of the colors mixed together says....BROWN.

Es-Cape or The Story of Ellie Moody

so, this past weekend i went to cape cod. for those of you who don't know, cape cod is attached to massachussetts. but, really, it's kinda its own thing:

look at me! i'm cape cod. i flex my arm muscle at the rest of the state of massachusetts. something about water, as well... and boats, we can't forget boats.

some good things about the cape include:

1. time with friends

2. finally seeing harleigh:

3. drag queens (the good ones):

4. chillaxation time

5. quirky t-shirts:

6. ellie moody (our awesome tram driver to the beach)

6. becky's mom!

some bad things about the cape include:

1. the traffic on the way

2. drag queens (the scary ones):

3. the people who sell quirky t-shirts (why yes i DID get into a fight with a woman trying to sell me a sweatshirt for more than was advertised on the sign above said sweatshirt. thank you for asking.)

4. almost dying on the way back.

some things that happened on the cape that were bad, but the cape can't rightly be blamed for:

1. everything about peggy sue got married. (how did i used to like this movie??)

but let's not dwell on the negative, as that wouldn't be like me. let's talk about the good. so, it was totally awesome to hang with debbie, becky, and harleigh. they hadn't met each other, which is weird because they obviously should've by now. so, we remedied that sitch.

also, watching becky and her legions of cats was really entertaining, if only because becky's head darts from side to side trying to follow the movements of all of them. it makes her look more spastic than normal (tough to do, i know). plus she refers to them as her siblings, which is amusing in an i'm-actually-kind-of-concerned way.

but the best thing about the cape was becky's mom! becky's mom summers at the cape, so we knew she'd be there when we went to visit. what i didn't realize is that becky's mom is a MOM. i mean, i should've put two and two together, but i'm an adult now (sorta), so i don't expect people to do things for me (unless you're one of my friends, read: minions. i DO expect you to do almost everything for me.) any more.

well, my friends, becky's mom! does it all. she provides beds and linens, gives advise on where to go and what to see, shares her lodgings, makes food(!) AND doesn't let you help clean up after yourself. she sneakily treats you to dinner, and she talks about how to improve becky's life with you while becky sits in the background making faces (stop pouting, becky!). all in all, i would definitely recommend her to a friend.

all of that AND i got to have nap time. hurrah! the system works.

And the Winner is....Or Fake Good is Better than Real Good

so, okay, i really want to be a good person. i guess i should say, apparently, i want to be a good person. i sign up for volunteer projects. i rally people together to go to charity fundraisers. and i give the people i'm hanging out with multiple ways to get ahold of me when we're going to meet up (you know, just in case i'm a tad behind or something goes awry).

i should get an award, right?*

well, apparently, it is a mere façade, and i don't ACTUALLY want to be a good person. i just want to give the impression that i'm a good person. 

let's take a look at this week, for example. monday, i was signed up to go help old people play bingo. they can't necessarily hear that well, and my fingers are much more dextrous than theirs, so it just makes sense that i would be there to help them when the numbers are called, right? 

no, no, grandmother, let me help you with that, sort of thing:

it only happens twice a month, and i really make an effort to sign up. 

which is a real shame since i didn't even go on monday. i had kind of a headache, and i wasn't feeling great, and i had a long day, and i didn't need old people to remind me of eminent death.

 no, thanks! instead, i came home and watched who's that girl?

oh, madonna, you're such a good actress!

then today, i had invited becky to go to this fundraiser with me. she was to meet me at work at a designated time, and we would go from there. yeah, well, not only did i get out so late and not respond to any phone calls for so long that becky actually thought i ditched her (she probably

 started to do the sad charlie brown walk away thing that she does), but also ALSO we decided not to go. 

good grief, indeed, charlie brown. 

so, i guess i don't support haitian education after all. pity, really. i thought i believed in things. i guess i just believe in appearing as though i believe in things. 

but really, isn't that just as good, nay, better, even? think about it. 

*i actually did get an award for volunteering. back in aught aught. actually, it might've been '99, but i like saying aught, so we're going to round up: