Valentines

First - for those of you irritated that I didn't put an apostrophe before the "s" I just wanted to make sure you knew that this blog entry doesn't belong to "Valentine". Rather - it is about "Valentines" - those little cards we passed out in school.

I would just like to take a moment to THANK GOD that I've grown up and am no longer required to pass out and/or receive those stupid little esteem killers! ICK!!! What a horrible horrible concept!!

OK so first through maybe fourth grades were fine. Most parents filled out the Valentines for their kids anyway and so nobody was left out. (I've never seen such a variety of different spellings for "Erin.") But by fifth grade we were thinking, "Hey, I can do this myself!" and thus people started getting left out. You know who they were. Ugly girl. Ugly boy. And on occasion, Super Attractive Girl & Boy because you were "Ugly Girl" or "Ugly Boy" and didn't want to get made fun of. So then they implemented the rule that "If you're passing out cards you MUST PASS ONE OUT TO EVERYONE!" This was almost worse because then I, as one of the reigning "Ugly Girl" and "Fat Girl" and quite often "Weird Girl" and also "Big Giant Hair Girl", would get the reject cards.

Oh how it sucked - sitting there with 52 little assorted Valentines trying to figure out which saying wouldn't be too suggestive to someone. I.E. "I don't want to give the "You're a Cutie" card to Nick because then Nick will show it to John and Danny and they'll laugh. So I've gotta give him something more generic like, "Special Valentine." I'll give "You're a Cutie" to Andrea because she has dimples."

And I knew the other kids were all doing the same damn thing!! Thus, when I got cards like:



Or



I translated this into visions of "Nick" or "John" or "Danny" etc. sitting at home and thinking, "Hmm... who in the class should I give the elephant to. Oh I KNOW!!!" Or...."I'm definitely giving the sexy fox to Natalie, the lioness to Renee, the panther to Amy... this leaves the dog."

One year I simply avoided the whole conflict by buying blank heart shaped pieces of cardstock and some heart stickers and made everyone Valentines that said "To Nick, From Erin". No awkward phrasings!! And I got a "That's Really Cool!!" from a few people when I took the moment to make existing couples matching cards.

Then it was on to High School. Oh - my all girls high school was really such a relief! Granted - I did still spend my whole freshman year thinking that everyone was secretly a bitch before finally realizing that most people were actually just kind. (Until they were eventually bitches but bitches with reason.)

And before I end this entry - I would just like to give a shout out to those people that handed out the Valentines with the little packages of lifesavers. Those were cool!

Wild things

I don't get how sometimes I go to put on my shoes and shoes that were missing yesterday are now sitting nicely in a pair and the shoes I want to wear are just gone. I determine, then, that little people come into my room and switch them around just to mess with me. Then they sit back and Laugh ... and Laugh. But since there is at least 50% of me that believes that it IS possible that little people are coming into my room and messing with my shoes (and other miscellaneous objects) I'll sometimes slip this into conversation.

"Damnit! Little gnomes are running rampant in my room again."

Most often the conversation receiver will just continue as if I've said nothing because it's just one of those odd things that Erin sometimes says.

Current Fixation - PodCasts

Podcasts and videoblogs! They make me hate people and love them at the same time. I was all a-wonder about these mysterious things but then I got me a Video iPod for Christmas. I couldn't quite justify wanting an iPod since well... I already had an MP3 player but when those video gods put forth the miniature pod-o-video... I COULD JUSTIFY THAT.

AND I got one for Christmas!

So the current fixation, beyond just sorting all of my 1000 songs plus into fun playlists like "BlueBlack" (for when I feel like mass murdering while wearing leather and vampire fangs) and "Sex Music" (typically a soulful, bluesy mix of deep throated women), is looking for and subscribing to Video Podcasts. (And audio podcasts too but... videos are of course the key.)

My favorite, for the moment, is one called the "Four Eyed Monsters" who are a young couple videoblogging about their efforts to get their indie movie to the big screen. I have zero interest right now in their movie but their video podcasts are incredibly interesting. PERFECT for short attention spans like mine.

This is also inspiring me to think of what I could possibly do in this realm. Well I have some old radio shows of mine that I could digitize and release as podcasts... but the newsy news on them is old. Mostly I'm considering a project my friend Amy wants to do - a documentary of the two of us doing things that we wanted to do before we turned 30. What if we did it as an episodic videocast? That could be coo!

Anyway... the only thing annoying about the video podcasts is the stupid iTunes program that must download once you click on something... WHICH means that after perusing through 20 pages of podcast directory... I then lose my spot and have to start over. STUPID!

Hello, my friend

There is a plumber at my house now who is actually... ACTUALLY ... showing off his ass crack. This is supposed to be fiction, people. This is not supposed to be a real thing.

On top of this he just called my dad and I in to show us the faucet he was fixing.

Plumber: My friend, can you take a look at this.

Us: OK

Plumber: This faucet is leaking, my friend. It's broken.

Us: OK

Plumber: My friend, I put the new pieces in but now it is leaking.

Us: Isn't that the one that was leaking before?

Plumber: Yes, my friends. Now it is leaking worse.

Us: OK....What did you want us to do? Call a plumber?

(Blank stares)

Ass crack. Ass crack. Round buttock cheeks protruding from jeans.... ASS CRACK!

Mornings

How the morning went in my head (with a small dose of reality):

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

(Taysha is selling off a small paper sheet full of Kathyrn Hepburn's earrings...or are they hat pins... to high bidders for my mother, I hear. Mom is super impressed and making a lot of money. My inheritance? Taysha runs in...)

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Erin: HUH??

(...with a notebook full of drawings of balloons. Taysha: "Look at what Leslie was going to draw on my wall...er... I mean your wall." She whips out a drawing of one girl sitting at a computer with another girl laughing behind her. Taysha flips the page and addresses my mother. Taysha: "My mom called and my dad is having a cake after all." She shows my mother a drawing of balloons that says "The Neighbors.")

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Erin: HUUUHHH??

Mom: Can you come to the door?

Erin: WHYYYYY?

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

(Alarm is dinging.)

Erin: WHATT?

Mom: Can you come to the door?

Erin: WHHHYYYYY?

(Taysha flips to another page - a drawing of my room with two new chairs in it. Taysha: "Look - I got them! I got them!" I feign happiness all the while thinking - "Why the fuck is Taysha re-decoring my room?" I go to my room and put something in it... then move it and apologize saying, "Oh I should probably find somewhere else for this and not mess up the room any further." Thinking in my head, "So your fucking chairs can fit." I go to the bathroom ... Taysha screams and knocks on the door. I don't respond. I hear Taysha whimpering to my mother and then running to the back bathroom. Apparently she's having a "sudden" attack of the runs. I smile a little.)

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Erin: WHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYY?

Mom: Just come to the door!!!

I get up and go to the door. (Fucking God Fucking Fuck Fuck WHY?)

Door opens a crack. Mom is standing there in a cute little denim outfit.

Erin: WHAT?

Mom: Dina (the housekeeper) is here!

Erin: So????

Mom: Get up! Use the bathroom so she can get in there and clean it!

Erin: No!! (Fucking fucking fucker)

Mom: Just do it! It's one day every two weeks! Adapt!

Erin (just glaring)

Mom: Do it!

Erin: Why couldn't you answer me through the door?

Mom: I didn't want to yell that she was here.

Erin: (Fucking bitch...yells every other goddamn thing...yells it "once every two weeks" but today she won't?)

Mom: And straighten it up while you're in there! Are those Miriam's shoes I found in there?

Erin: Yes.

Mom: They were muddy.

Erin: That's why they were in the bathroom.

Mom: Well I put them in your basket.

Mom departs. Erin walks into the bathroom.

Erin: (Fucking goddamn! Why the fuck am I in here? Cuz the fucking maid needs to mess my fucking system up. She better not fucking change my comfy sheets. I hate that shit. I should be sleeping. My fifth alarm hasn't even gone off. Goddamn mother fucking Dina. I should fucking go back to bed and close both doors so she can't do a damn thing. Make her fucking wait until I'm up. Goddamn Taysha "re-decoring" my room! What the fuck is that shit? Oh THANKS MOM for putting a new "basket" in my room for my fucking shit. I already had two "baskets" and I had them down to a system. One for hair product. The other for everything else but goddamn Dina can't tell what a fucking system is and fucked it up every time. Now you've moved my two system baskets and gave me a third for what the fuck now? WHY THE FUCK would you put muddy fucking shoes on top of my shit in the goddamn basket?? I'm putting these shoes on the ground. Dina can fucking deal. If that bitch loses my fucking tweezers again I'll kill her. I better hide my goddamn shit. Fucking Dina.)

An alarm starts dinging from the other room.

(FUCKING fucker! I should still be sleeping! That's only alarm number 3!!! Maybe I won't put my fucking contact lenses in and then I'll have to kick Dina the fuck out when I get up again. Fucking bitches!!!)

I put my contact lenses on.

(I'm going back to the goddamn bed! If that fucking "housekeeper" brought that fucking grandkid again I'm going to have to smile. Why the fuck are there kids in my goddamn house? Fuck smiling! I'll just glare.)

I exit the bathroom glaring. No one is around. I re-enter my bedroom and close the door.

(I can't go back to bed now! My friggin' contact lenses are in. That makes me fucking grouchy! What the fuck am I supposed to do now?)



NEEDLESS TO SAY - I'm not a morning person. (I really should have gone back to bed.)

Why I Love My Dad

Dad: I think I'm going to have the pahsta.
Me: What are you, Canadian?
Dad: What do you mean?
Me: You said "pahsta." I've only heard Canadians say it like that.
Dad: How are you supposed to say it?
Me: "Pawstuh"
Dad: But I was using it in the past tense.

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."

A Simple Story in Two Complicated Parts

Part One

The first CD I ever bought was Madonna's "Like A Prayer" back when I was in 8th grade and my father had obtained a CD player by questionable means. He'd purchased hundreds of dollars of hair and skin care products, secretly, in order to qualify to win a car (the odds were supposed to increase in your favor when you purchased more product). Knowing my mother would freak if she found out what he had done, he hid all of the product under the bed. (You should note that my father is completely bald and thus has no need for hair care products.) And instead of the car he won a CD player! At the time it was still a big deal because they were new and expensive - but it wasn't a car. (And it would have been cheaper to buy the player outright.) (In the end it was OK because when my mother did find out she called up the credit card company and told them that it was an unauthorized purchase and they erased the charges... so in effect, it was free.)

We made a big deal of going to the Warehouse music store to purchase our family's first compact disc. Back then they still came in the long cardboard boxes (you youngn's might not remember them). My father peered at me a little wryly when I chose Madonna but I won out (after all he had hundreds of dollars of shampoo hidden under a bed) and we brought my purchase home. So there I was, 13 years old with a fascinating new piece of technology. I opened the box, removed the jewel case and opened it. What struck me first was the smell. The smell?? Yes - it had a smell. It wasn't an unpleasant smell but it was something unfamiliar to me so naturally I assumed it was the smell of all CD's. I listened to the item, enjoyed it and so the first CD was a success.

But since my first CD had a smell, whenever I opened a new CD I sniffed it. Imagine my surprise when none of the following purchases smelled the same as that initial Madonna CD. For YEARS I told people of this phenomenon and for YEARS people thought I was insane... sniffing my CDs and telling weird tales of Madonna. Finally I brought my CD into school and passed it around. Yes! Validation! A friend defined the smell as "dirt." OK... so my Madonna CD smelled like dirt. Odd... but at least other people could smell it. In college I was telling a new acquaintance this tale when she finally filled me in. "It's patchouli," she said. "The 'Like a Prayer' CDs were scented with patchouli oil." (As if it was common knowledge.)


Part Two

My family travels frequently and as frequent travelers with "collecting" habits we amass large stockpiles of mini-shampoos, mini-conditioners, mini-soaps, mini-shower gels, shower caps, shoe-shine kits, 2 cup pouches of coffee grounds and whatever else some hotel might give us. Mom always taught me to empty the little basket in the room, hide the supply of shampoo et. al. so that each day they would refill the in-room basket. Having ALL of this travel-sized product it finally ocurred to me that I could use it when I housesit (or, God forbid, when I travel!). So last night I'm housesitting and I decided to take an evening shower. I brought three items, courtesy of the Seven Feather Indian Casino, in with me - a shampoo, a conditioner and a shower gel. I followed normal shower procedures and then broke out the little bottle of shower gel. I opened it and began to lather when it ocurred to me that this shower gel was patchouli scented.


So there I was - in the shower - smelling like a prayer.

A Silvermany Sort of Day

It was a Sarah Silvermany day!

I went to see Sarah Silverman: JESUS IS MAGIC in the afternoon. Eh. It was OK. If you're lucky enough to be cool like me and have seen Sarah in person on more than one occasion - then there's not much new in the comedy concert film that you probably wouldn't recognize. The exceptions are the vignettes... which were probably much funnier at conception than they came across in real life.

Though the Amazing Grace performance at the end... CLASSIC!

Favorite joke: That's just retarded. And by "retarded" I mean THEY CAN DO ANYTHING!

Of course I went with Miriam and afterwards she kept telling me, "Erin, you can do ANYTHING!" with a wonderful smirk on her face.

But Erin, how does one Sarah Silverman movie constitute a "Sarah Silvermany sort of day?"

Great question, dear readers!

After our afternoon movie outing and then beers with dinner at The Yard House in Pasadena (and by "beers" I mean "a 50% ale/50% pear cider mix called a Snakebite" since I find beer disgusting) we went to see RENT!!!!

EXCELLENT! LOVED IT! I really want to go to a sing-a-long performance because it was HARD to not burst into song! It had my dumb heart in my throat the whole time. It's one of those movies I immediately put on my mental "to own" list. (OK yes... I did overkill play it in college so it was a little like one of those CDs you used to love but now want to skip through.) I much preferred Rosario Dawson to the original MiMi. (Sorry. The original Mimi's voice bugged me.) But as musicals to screen go... Chicago still has me wonderstruck. Of course that could be due to my lust for both Renee Zelwegger and Catherine Zeta Jones.

AND (to tie back into the theme of this blog) Sarah Silverman had a cameo as "Alexi Darling" - the art-killing tabloid TV producer!

Moment of Awkward Humor (brought to you by the Brady's)

So Friday night I go out with Miriam and her sisters (plus two German foreign exchange teenagers) to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

Now Nora, Miriam's middle sister (24), works for the Loyola University of New Orleans (her alma mater) as a student recruiter for the music school. And she was, up until a few months ago, living in New Orleans.

After the movie Miriam notices Nora's blouse and says, "I have a blouse just like that. In fact... I haven't seen that blouse in a while! Did you take it?" (Followed by a "I'm just kidding, OMG!" face directed towards Nora.)

Clare, the youngest sister (16 years old) starts laughing and pointing at Nora and making a "Ha Ha! You got caught stealing!" face.

Nora put her head down and mocked an "I'm not entertained" expression before she looked at the both of them, whipped out her Katrina card and said, "You realize you're making fun of someone who lost all of their clothes in a cataclysmic flood, don't you?!"

Then there was silence as this was not funny.

Now I don't mean "not funny" as in we all took a moment of silence to feel bad for her. I mean "not funny" as in her comedy really needs work because at no point was anyone making fun of her. Rather there was an implied fictional situation that was on display as the "funny." She whipped out the Hurricane card for nothing... obviously she'd been waiting for the opportune moment and she wasted it. Poor Nora.

(On a sidenote: I looked up "cataclysmic" on Dictionary.com just to make sure I was using it correctly and noticed that one of the definitions of "cataclysm" is "devastating flood". So when I say "cataclysmic flood" am I really saying "devastating flood-like flood"?)

Universal problems

Every once in a while you bump into one of those problems within a fictional universe.

For example - in Mr. and Mrs. Smith (the Bradjelina version) Adam Brody was seen wearing a "Fight Club" t-shirt while under interrogation by Brad Pitt. (Thanks to T for pointing this out.) This is a problem that should cause some sort of collapse (a la Donnie Darko) because, as we all know, Brad Pitt was IN Fight Club. So if Adam Brody was really a fan of Fight Club... then he should have been like, "Dude, you're Brad Pitt."



There's another one in Golden Girls when the actor who later played Rose's "Miles" also played an earlier character within the series. This is a problem. When he came back as Miles... no one recognized him.

Etc. Etc.

Tonight I was watching FRIENDS and there was one of these problems ... Isabella Rossellini was in Central Perk and Ross was hitting on her because she was on his list of the 5 celebrities he was allowed to sleep with. He had his list laminated on a wallet card and she asked to see it - she wasn't on it. He explained that since she was international he'd bumped her off the list and replaced her with Winona Ryder because she was "local."

THUS the problem within the FRIENDS universe (which, incidentally, is also the Caroline in the City, The Single Guy and the Mad About You universe... which means that it's also The Nanny universe...and if you can think of any more crossovers let me know)... because as we ALL know... Winona Ryder was in an episode as Rachel's old friend that she girl-kissed!!




So.... when you're writing your famous scripts... all I ask is that you pay attention.

Thoughts for the Day

Thought 1: If anyone says that God is on their side... I think that automatically means that God is on the other side by default.

Thought 2: See-saws can be awesome, if done right. However, I was always the heavy kid going nowhere with some littler kid stuck in the air screaming on the other side. I've had maybe one good see-saw experience, with a fluid give and take, in my life.

AllOfASuddenDecisionCool

Some of the best things in life are the impromptu decisions that lead to adventures! I love adventures. "Adventures" in Erin-land are basically when you're walking or driving along and you say something like, "Hey....what happens if we turn left?" and that silly decision leads to things like Taysha and I at a thrift store buying a giant, damn, dirty television and wrestling it back to our dorm in a taxi.

The second best thing to "adventures" are the all of a sudden movie plans. For example... "We could go see a movie." "Sure, what time." "In ten minutes." "To the horses, Pronto!"

I had one of these experiences in Boston during my trip East.

Chrissy: Well it's 10 - we could call it a night or see a movie.

Erin: Movie!

Chrissy: Really? I was just kidding but OK. Shall we go to the new theater next to Emerson?

Erin: To the horses, Pronto!

We decided upon A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE since we were both curious about it. Hooboy! Not what I expected. I mean, granted, "violence" was in the title but with the very dramatic looking Viggo on the movie poster... I was expecting something of Oscar caliber.



The note in the beginning credits that said "Based on a Graphic Novel" (a.k.a. "comic book") should have really prepared us. Lots of graphic violence (for example, Viggo stomps on a man's throat as a way of killing him) and a slew of overly dramatic bad guys and drama pauses. Not something I recommend, really.

Last night I was celebrating my godmother's birthday with my immediate family and Miriam (cuz she still celebrates family functions with me at my request). On the way out of the restaurant I picked up a "Campus Circle" magazine which featured a big ad on the back for Sarah Silverman's new movie, Jesus is Magic, which neither of us had previously heard about. Miriam freaked (we love Sarah Silverman!) and demanded that we make an attempt to watch it. It was 9:30 - it started at 9:40... we rushed and drove and ran and got to the theater at 9:55 but it was sold out anyway. (Sarah Silverman WAS supposed to be there in person and apparently she was on Howard Stern that morning promoting it ... so we were doomed.)

But since we were at the theater anyway (and this was our local quirky midnight movie theater that plays Rocky Horror and usually something good on Friday nights) I backed out to the sidewalk and leaned back to read the marquee. I saw the letters L E G...a little further.... B I L L I....

WHAT THE FUCK???? THE LEGEND OF BILLIE JEAN?!?!?!? TONIGHT?!?!??! I FUCKING LOVE THE LEGEND OF BILLIE JEAN!!!!

So then I spent the next couple of hours begging and pleading to find someone to see ONLY THE BEST FUCKING MOVIE EVER (after, you know, the other best movies ever) with me. I finally gave up and decided that I would be a grown up and go alone. (Something that I was completely capable of in Boston but somehow never capable of at home.) (I had missed the opportunity to see TEEN WITCH and CLUE at the midnight screenings and still haven't forgiven myself... thus the decision to go despite lack of company.) Miriam ended up coming through at the last minute because she decided she'd not be able to sleep if I went to the Nuart alone because of all the crazies. (It should be noted that she had a bad experience with the crazies... but at the RHPS and back in high school.)

Anyway.... so I got to see my movie. Gawwwwwwwwwdddd that movie is good! Especially when all the Billie Jean wannabes are passing her along on some sort of underground Billie Jean railroad. Makes me wanna wear a wetsuit top, pump my fists in the air and steal shit from toy stores! Today I'm feeling a little invincible! (Actually... a little tired and grouchy but had to work that Pat Benatar reference in anyway.)

Survivor

I just survived a terrible accident.

There I was, minding my own business, when the soap got away from me. I took a step towards it, slipped on a "soap just made this slippery" spot, completely lost all sense of balance and the world around me and toppled out of the shower.

There I was... lying on the floor, legs still inside the tub, tangled in the curtain and the curtain ROD that came down with me, shower head spraying water all over me and the rest of the bathroom. I sat (if you can call it sitting) there for maybe two minutes - dazed and really confused as to just how the hell I was going to get up. Finally, I managed to turn over, grip the floor and push backwards back into the offending bathtub - careful not to slip on the soapy spot again. And then I decided to finish the shower with the rod/curtain tangle still on the floor because what the hell - everything's already wet anyway!

But I seem to have injured nothing except my pride. (Which, since there were no witnesses, I could have saved from injury but I instead decided to tell you all about it and assault that pride.)

In times like these I'm reminded that I must have guardian angels/spirits/whatever... because I could have hit my head on the sink or a variety of other things on the way down but I'm fine. Maybe a little bruise on my ass but I think I'm still in adrenaline shock and don't know what hurts yet.

Bored

 

My first single.

TGMT

THE GAY MARRIAGE THING (a documentary featuring the marriage of my two big sisters) just got itself a blog: http://sassymedia.blogspot.com/