Camera Phones & Their Merit

Today I came home and found myself trapped in the driveway afraid to move because there was an excellent picture waiting to happen. If I moved - I knew I'd spoil the moment so I whipped out my cell phone and called my father who was in the house.

ME: DAD!! COME OUT HERE WITH YOUR CAMERA AS FAST AS POSSIBLE!!
DAD: Why? What's happening?
ME: Just come out here with your camera!!
DAD: OK but I'll have to load it.
ME: HURRY! Grab my camera. It's ready. Just come now!
DAD: OK

By the time he emerged (with his camera) - it was too late. DRAT! I need a camera phone!!

But what he missed was this (try to visualize it in your mind) -

J.T. (Julian Threadgoode, my russian blue cat) was sitting on the cement driveway behind the black wrought-iron fence with the low sunlight glinting off of his pet tags. He stared, rather blankly, at me and then continued to scan the driveway, the neighborhood, the cars driving by on the free entrance which runs past the end of my cul de sac street.

At the top of the fence - just above the "Beware of Dog" sign (which still hangs there despite the fact that my dog has been dead for almost 2 years) - was an old chunky squirrel perched on the curve of the fancy part of the gate. He stared down at J.T. while the cat pretended not to notice and his fluffy tail matched the gate curve perfectly.

IT WAS GREAT!

AND IT'S GONE!

The squirrel eventually did run off and J.T. couldn't give less of a crap. They're probably friends. This is probably the same neighborhood squirrel that once bit my mother on the finger - leading her to call animal control to ask if she needed a rabies shot. (The laughing responder said "No but HOW did you get bit by a squirrel???" She'd been handfeeding it nuts and it got a little overzealous with its chewing.)

Steal that mutha - Jesus H!

'Tis the season for the holiday party, tacky christmas garments and the "unwrap the miscellaneous present and then steal it" game.

Tonight I found myself at the house of a former high school friend for a two-hostess party which was literally around the corner from my house. (I MapQuested the directions and was informed that it would take me "0 minutes" to drive there.)

Lelian (house owner, high school friend and hostess 2) was attired in a billowy white blouse thing (it's winter Lelian!) while she floated from guest to guest and did, at least once, try to get me to say two words. (Little did she realize that she just had to pour the champagne a little sooner.) (As soon as I'd had two glasses the tale of the Indian dot in the bathtub came out... good times were had by all! I'm so not PC.)

Lisa (hostess 1 and high school friend) wore a wonderful Christmas vest with snazzy reindeer adorning it. She figured she was a teacher and teachers wear those sorts of things. (The week prior I'd been in Old Navy with Miriam so that she could find an "un-teacherly" Christmas outfit to wear in front of her high school students.) (Side note: Did you ever realize how young your high school teachers were???)

And I in my kerchief... wore the tackiest set of things I could find which included a Paul Dini's "Jingle Belle" t-shirt (a freebie from my old job), two red socks (which didn't match), green jeans (army green... sorta didn't count), a literal jingle bell ornament (tied to a necklace) and a lovely Christmas tree broach (snatched from my mother's jewelry cabinet). With this ensemble I won the "Best Christmas Outfit" prize. (Lisa, with her vest, was not a contestant since she bought the prize - a blue cross ornament with the word "Peace" on it.) (Did I mention that we all went to the all girl's Catholic school?)

(I was dismayed, however, because I had a great tacky sweatshirt that I'd "donated" to Goodwill last year. Lost opportunities!)

Then came the present game! I, myself, had donated two "white elephants" to the grab bag - a "French writing portfolio" and an ice skating fabric snowman (both things my mother handed to me to regift). My friend Monica brought a purse that said "I Love Me" filled with questionable items leftover from a bachelorette party. Lisa supplied the gift section with a wide selection of empty, but pretty, (but empty) boxes. Other items were a mish mash of unwanted gifts and party favors.

When it was my turn I stole a lovely heated lotion dispenser ... which was eventually stolen from me. I, in turn, just HAD to have the below item. Somebody gave it to Lelian as a housewarming present (price tag intact) ($10.99 if you're curious) and she just sorta had NO IDEA what to do with it. I suggested it was for washing the feet of your guests. (Catholic humor.)

My favorite part about the item is the absolutely horrified/appalled look that people are giving me when I pull it out of its box to show it off. (And these are church-going folk!)

WHY did I steal it? So I could blog about it. But now that I've blogged about it I don't know what to do with it.

I think I'll put it on the porch filled with some lovely palm fronds.

6 more days until Jesus' birthday! ;)

What came first?

(Warning: If you haven't read the blog entry about the rooster - this blog may not make sense. Go back and read the entry entitled "R.I.P. Rooster" first.)

So I'm walking Mortimer the chihuahua when what do I spy behind the fence at the park edge but a GOD DAMNED CHICKEN!!

I think to myself, "FUCKING CHICKEN!!" (And in my head I pointed at it.)

I said aloud (to Mortimer), "Oh God!"

So then these thoughts ran through my head in no particular order:

-Was that the rooster's wife?
- Was that chicken here the whole time the rooster was?
- Who the fuck keeps dropping off poultry??!
- God damned Ghetto poultry keepers!
- Do I save the chicken? Is this like my second chance?
- That chicken better stay on the other side of the fence!
- Does the chicken know that the rooster is dead?
- Is she looking for the rooster?
- God damned chicken!!

And then I had an epiphany. (Adrea was witness to the epiphany as I was on the phone with her at the time.)

Down the block is an egg farm!

I'm in the movie Chicken Run!!

Coulda Shoulda Narnia

The Chronicles of Narnia have just been released in theaters with the subtle and disguised purpose of "neener neenering" me. Actually that might be the tagline. "The Lion, the Witch and the NEENER NEENER ERIN"

Years ago I was working as the Exec Assistant to my "Hollywood Boss" for a film related company that was closing down. She was the President of said company. She was minorly well known around town. (Enough well known that when I recently approached a temp agency the interviewer said, "Wow, Hollywood Boss. She's known as a tough cookie. How well did you work with her?") (My answer, if you're curious, was "She likes my weird so we coo.")

Being a minorly well known president of a company with the past history of VPing production at a major studio .... she was approached with a lot of different opportunities for something "next."

One of the opportunities was the Chronicles of Narnia. One of the big wigs at wherever called Hollywood Boss and said "You're it. I want you to produce this film. You're perfect." She said, "Eh. I was thinking about retiring." He said, "Please. You're it." So I calendared the meeting with Andrew Adamson (the director) and she went and had her coffee meeting.

First of all - she was late. She has a late problem... pyschologically I believe it is an effort at constantly proving her importance. People wait hours for her. Second of all - she told him outright that he couldn't use a real lion. He wanted to use a real one and animate the mouth like Babe. She said no.

She said no because she used to work on Circus of the Stars and once the lions had playfully swiped at Linda Carter (a.k.a. "Wonder Woman") and Linda said, "I quit. My face is all I've got!" So HB figured lion + kids = super bad idea.

But her no-can-do attitude meant that Adamson didn't want to work with HB and so ERIN DIDN'T GET TO GO TO NEW ZEALAND TO WORK ON THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA.

In a parallel universe - maybe she was a Yes-Can-Do on time boss and I'm now super successfully working as the assistant on all the Chronicles films and transferring that wisdom and experience to future projects... eventually leading to the writing and filming of my magnum opus.

In this universe I'm writing out the ISBNs of books for two bickering potential lesbians.

(In yet ANOTHER parallel universe.. I'm still writing that Broadway musical which will lead to fame, success and Tony awards.)

(In this one I'm thrilled because the two bickering lesbians buy me Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf ice blendeds in the morning.)

R. I. P. Rooster

Yesterday I killed a rooster.

It wasn't on purpose - I killed him by ignoring a problem (similar to when I walk by mumbling homeless people). I saw him days ago in the park where I walk the chihuahua, Mortimer, that I pet-sitt. At first I only heard him and thought, "What the hell???? Why do I hear a friggin' rooster near those ducks??" Then I caught sight of him walking along the perimeter of the park - sticking to the cement areas. WTF? I saw him the next night walking near the park but more in the parking lot and thought, "Maybe I should call animal control. Some ass probably dropped him hear because they didn't want him anymore!" But then I thought, "Nah! The park keepers probably have something they can do with him."

Then last night I walked Mortimer out of the condo complex gate and the rooster was there - just stepping BACK onto the curb near the bus stop and fluttering his wings in an "Oh holy shit! That was close!" sort of gesture. Mortimer wanted to attack but I picked him up and we walked carefully around the fellow (I do slightly fear birds... ever since the parrot attack) and continued into the park for our walk in the misty rain.

I know the exact moment when he died - it was when the trees started crying.

(Or that could have been when all the misty rain had finally laden the leaves enough for bigger drops to start falling.)

When we emerged back to the sidewalk I looked around carefully (scanning - preparing for sudden bird attacks) and then I saw him.... or what was left of him.... spread across the road.

GUILT PRESSED UPON MY SOUL! I could have herded the rooster back into the park and thus saved him. Or I could have called some animal department DAYS AGO! But alas I didn't... and I murdered he rooster.

My friend Adrea was coming over for fondue so I shared my disgust about myself with her but she assured me that it was OK... that roosters really weren't animals.

Regardless - I posted the following anonymous letter on Craigslist today:

Dear fuckface who dropped the rooster off in the Peck Water Conservation Park,

The rooster is dead. This is your fault. I'm sure you "thought" it was a good idea to get rid of your unwanted rooster (or your ghetto neighbor's annoying rooster) by dropping him off to spend the rest of his days in freedom amongst the wildlife at the park but let's analyze this ...

A) He was a rooster.
B) Roosters eat grain/feed/rooster food.
C) Roosters like to spend their time with hens.
D) The Peck park is full of ducks, bunnies, some feral cats, fish, ground squirrels and birds. (Note - No hens, no roosters.)
E) The ducks, bunnies, fish, feral cats, ground squirrels et al have adapted to (by evolutionary means or sheer fortitude) to life in the wild.
F) Ducks, bunnies, fish, feral cats, ground squirrels et al do NOT eat feed/grain/rooster food. The best you could really hope for was that the citizens who bring bread to the ducks might spare a few crusts for the rooster.

I give the rooster some credit - it tried to fit in with the ducks and attempted communication. But duck and rooster.... nope - NOT the same language.

It went something like this:

ROOSTER: Cock a doodle do. Cock a doodle.... doodle... do.
DUCK: Quack. Quack Quack.

It was impossible to begin with!

This would be like me going to Mexico and saying:

ME: Hello friends! I am hungry, alone and confused. Please help me.
THEM: (pointing finger at me) ** Mire, mexicano del compañero, de que mujer de discurso está intentando conseguir nuestra atención. Me pregunto lo que ella está diciendo. Podemos fingir esperar a escuchar un rato más adelante pero nos dejamos ahora no hacer caso de ella. Ella manejará en sus la propia. ** (Then they walk away en masse towards the steaming tamale pot.)

The rooster lasted in the park for several days until he decided, last night, to give up on trying. At approximately 6:45pm he commit suicide by stepping into oncoming traffic on Peck Road.

Not only have you sacrificed the life of one rooster - you've probably traumatized a poor El Montian who was suddenly face to face (or bumper to beak) with the ill-fated rooster.

So SHAME ON YOU for your initial bad taste in pets, or your evil neighbor pet stealing ways. And shame on the Park groundskeepers who probably have some sort of animal control on speed dial! The rooster wasn't exactly hiding!

Signed,

Rooster Mourner

And now kiddos - remember to value life! I'm lighting a candle and pouring a little corn on the ground for my lost homie.




** Alta Vista BabelFish says this means: "Look, fellow Mexicans, that speaking woman is trying to get our attention. I wonder what she is saying. We can pretend to listen for a while later but let's ignore her now. She'll manage on her own." Or actually it says it means, "Watch, Mexican of the companion, of which speech woman is trying to obtain our attention. I ask myself what she is saying. We can pretend to hope to listen more ahead awhile but we let ourselves now not pay attention to her. It will handle in his the own one."