In which I blog unabashedly.

August 27, 2008 at 5:20 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , , , , , ,

Oh fellow Brains, it’s that time of year again.

School starts in exactly one week, and for the life of me I cannot seem to drag my ass out of denial and into a place of acceptance of that fact. Yes, I’ve done the necessary footwork (most of it anyway), but the mindset is just not there. It’s been a long and fabulous summer, and I just don’t want to give that freedom up. Whoa is me, etc.

On the topic of school-related footwork, Target is a mad clusterfuck back-to-school war zone. My Target List of the Day included cat litter, Motrin, and notebooks (an obligatory trip through the clothing section also occurred, although this is never on the list, because hello! it goes without saying). I got my cat litter and Motrin just as easy as pie, but oh my god  the notebook section. It was like every mother, father, and child decided that 3:15 on a Wednesday afternoon was exactly the perfect time to flock to the big red bullseye and flail through the aisles without abandon. Needless to say, I did not get my notebooks. I did, however, see a gentleman purchase an entire cart of nothing but coca-cola.

And while we’re on the topic of Weird Fucking People and the Things They Do, what is it with having no awareness of your surroundings? I’m at Ye Olde Bagel Shoppe, which is where I often come to blog, and decided to take a trip to use the facilities before I ordered my delicious tomato-herb-bagel-toasted-with-cream-cheese-and-cucumbers (note to new girl: two tiny cucumbers that cover exactly one quarter of the bagel is not quite what I was looking for, kthx).

So, I’m walking down the little hallway that leads exclusively to the bathrooms, which would indicate that I am probably going, you know, to the bathroom. An older gentlemen with an interesting gait is headed in the opposite direction. As I’m about to pass him, a little lightbulb appears over his head, and he turns around to head back the other way. I walk ever so slowly behind him (because that’s the fastest pace he would allow), only to see him walk straight into the women’s room. Now, these bathrooms are the one stall type deals, and as far as I could tell the men’s room did not seem to be occupied. So why would he, seeing that I am so obviously headed there, choose to enter the one with the little dress icon on the door? You may say, “Erin! Why didn’t you just use the men’s room?” to which I would reply, “because they’re always fucking gross.”  Seriously boys, what is that? Anyway, Interesting Gait Man was only in the restroom for about 23 seconds (Did he forget to wipe? Wash his hands? Blow his nose? Fart? The world may never know!), and looked quite taken aback when he came out and I was waiting there on the other side of the door. I must admit that I have, a time or two, gone into the wrong bathroom. Sometimes nature’s call is far too urgent to be bothered with little things like paying attention. However, I don’t think that was the case in this particular situation. I got the distinct impression that he simply did not give a fuck. Note to Bathroom Guy: giving a fuck is necessary for existing in a public atmosphere.

Also, I just saw a guy pick his nose and eat it. Srsly?

So, kidlets, the moral of my stories is this: the week before back to school can be summed up in one word – bleh. And if you did not get precisely that message from my ramblings, you are obviously not paying close enough attention, and may want to visit your nearest public peepot immediately.

 

P.S. - If you are as addicted to Project Runway as I am, and have not yet visited this site, your life is incomplete. Click the link immediately.

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An Open Letter to Creepers

August 20, 2008 at 5:26 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , , , , ,

Dear Sirs,

I am a professional.

I have been at my job for a little over two and a half years, and on most days, really enjoy what I do. My job consists mostly of helping people, which is an incredibly satisfying experience. It also consists of trouble-shooting, multi-tasking, and learning new things on an almost daily basis.

My job also consists of representing my company to our clients a few times a month when my boss is unable to make it to their meetings. Although I often gripe to mr. goo about having to go to these meetings, because they are held in the evenings (when I could be doing better things like watching the same reruns of Friends that I’ve already seen six times /sarcasm), this is actually one of my favorite parts of my job.

Not only do I get to meet a fascinating array of different people at these meetings, but it’s the real-life application side of my job in which I probably learn more about what I do in a few hours than I learn in the rest of the month. It’s challenging and rewarding, with the added bonus of highlighting the fact that I am a real live grown up professional.

What does not add to that challenging and rewarding and grown up experience is when you, Creeper, choose to ignore my experience and competence and ability, and instead spend the entire hour-long meeting doing nothing but staring at my tits.

As it seems that you have missed your lesson in Respect 101, here’s the short version: staring at someones body, when they are not your girlfriend, wife, or a professional stripper, is fucking rude.

Furthermore, not only is it highly offensive, but it completely undermines and dismisses the previously mentioned experience, competence, and ability. I did not get my job because I have a nice rack. My rack did not supply me with the necessary skills to advance in my job to the position I am in today; it will not be the cause of further advancement that will likely happen in the future. And while we are here, I will also mention: My rack is not the reason that people like me. It’s not the reason that I have friends, and that those friends trust and confide in me. I do not have the level of compassion, empathy, and kindness that I do because of my rack. It did not give me my ability to write well, dance well, or swim well. I am not a good student because I have a nice rack. It has nothing to do with my love of animals, or my sense of humor, or the fact that I have an almost perfect driving record. It doesn’t even have anything to do with the relationship I have developed with my boyfriend. My rack, and the rest of my body, are not what make me the person I am, and they have nothing to do with you or anyone else.

As wildly difficult as it may be for you to grasp, the fact is that my experience, competence, and ability stand for themselves, in much the same way that an Olympic athlete is still an Olympic athlete, even if she doesn’t have her breasts out for you to see.

I feel it appropriate to mention also, that sexist comments work in much the same way that your disgusting ogling does. When you, Creeper, tell me that I can stand in for my boss anytime, because I am “much easier on the eyes” (or any similarly narrow-minded comment), it accomplishes the exact same diminishing and degrading end. So let me say it again: My body has nothing to do with you.

I do not care who you are. I do not care if you are young or old, tall or short, fat or thin. I do not care if you’re gorgeous and fit and educated and rich and flash a winning smile. I do not care if you seem like a very nice person, or if you frame your misogyny in such a way that it sounds like a compliment. I do not care if I meet you at work, or on the street, or in a gas station, or at a coffee shop, or at a damn single’s bar. Whoever you are, and whatever setting we are in, I am not up for your review, and I do not exist for your viewing pleasure. Staring at and making comments on my body is inappropriate and extraordinarily unwelcome.

So I will say it again, Creeper.

And again, and again, and again.

I am a professional, and my body is none of your fucking business.

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Steve’s Goo is Broken

August 13, 2008 at 4:38 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , , ,

So I have this friend.

Ok, so mr. goo (heretofore known as my boyfriend) has this friend.

We’ll call him… Steve.

Late on Monday night, Steve’s wife called mr. goo , and proceeded to tell him that Steve had lost his mind. Now, I don’t mean in the “she done gone lost her mind” type of losing ones mind, as was the case with my post from a couple of weeks ago. I mean it in the “he thought it was 1986″ type of losing ones mind. He was in the hospital, and nobody knew quite what the heck was going on. (They still don’t, as far as I know, although last I heard they were thinking it may have been a small stroke. I personally wouldn’t consider a stroke that makes you think it’s 1986 as being small, but hey, I’m no medical professional).

I have absolutely no experience, personal or otherwise, with amnesia. Quite frankly, it freaks me the fuck out. I mean, you can’t remember anything. Which is actually an exaggeration, as in Steve’s case he remembered some things, mostly people, one of which happened to be mr. goo. But still. Not remembering anything is just not an option that I would be happy to consider. My family and friends would tell you that I already oftentimes have the memory of a goldfish, and I just don’t need any more help in that area.

Memory is a strange thing anyway. I am slightly embarrassed to admit that I have, in the past, mistaken something I have seen in a movie or read in a book for something that I either a) heard from a friend, or b) actually experienced in real life. And I realize that I am possibly an exception with my sporadically malfunctioning memory, but it’s not like it’s that far from the norm. Plenty of people I know have woken up from dreams and not had any idea as to whether or not they actually happened. So basically, our minds trick themselves, which is a disconcerting thought considering that they are the things that we base our entire reality on. And that just sort of flows right into matrix-theory, which I am sooo not even going to touch. I’ll just leave that little nugget to the conspiracy theorist bloggers.

So right – Steve.

I have it on good faith from the Big Dude that Steve will be just fine, despite this little brain glitch. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have blogged about it. But, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt if ya’ll would gave a little shout out to Jesus, or Allah, or Mother Nature, or whoever you happen to believe in, for the swift and total return of Steve’s Brain Goo.

Because, seriously, 1986? Nobody wants to be stuck there.

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Things on Sticks 2.0

August 10, 2008 at 2:35 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , , , ,

I do believe this speaks for itself.

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Non Sequitur, or: She Done Gone Lost Her Mind

August 1, 2008 at 12:35 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , , , , , ,

In the interest of not letting two weeks go by without a post (because I promised myself I wouldn’t do that), I am writing this despite the fact that I am feeling decidedly un-bloggy this week. I do not promise to be coherent, consistent, or witty, but I do promise to try harder next time. Because I read somewhere that lists make people happy in the blogging world, and because it appeals to my current sense of slightly disillusioned apathetic laziness (dillapziness), I present to you:

A List Of Things That Barely Relate To One Another, And Have Nothing To Do With Anything

[Thing #0.5: The fact that, when posted, the title of this list will not all be on one line, is for the crazymaking.]

Thing #1: While on our way up north for some rained-soaked camping a couple of weeks ago, I saw a man playing the harmonica while driving. Playing the harmonica while driving. To his credit, we were in the middle of a stop and go traffic jam, but still. I have seen a lot of people do a lot of strange things while driving, but this one clearly takes the cake.

Thing #2: For lunch the other day, I ordered a delicious bread bowl filled with delicious soup from Panera Bread. Yum. But wait! There’s more! The lovely people at Panera gave me an unsolicited side dish with my bread bowl – an extra chunk of bread. This is enough to make a person’s head asplode. Now, I love bread. Like, a lot. But as you may have noticed, the meal I ordered was already made up almost entirely of bread. I appreciate Panera’s sentiment that, seeing as how I obviously already love bread, I should probably enjoy even MORE bread with my meal, however I feel pretty bad for Extra Chunk. Because Extra Chunk’s final resting place was Trash Can. And that makes me sad for starving Ethiopians everywhere*.

Thing #3: A list inside of a list - Things That I Have a Serious Love/Hate Relationship With: 1) Healthcare, of all types. 2) The Dentist. 3) Red meat [happy on the taste buds, sad on the stomach]. 4) Weather. 5) Whoever it was that decided it would be a good idea to invent those little plastic key-ring thingamabobs for stores that you use religiously but in reality have no idea what you’re actually using them for [please note that it is the inventor of said item that I have the love/hate feelings for, and not necessarily the actual item, although that may be applicable too].

Well. I do believe that those are all the Things you are going to get today, dear readers. This list was originally meant to have 5 Things, not 3.5 Things, but my brain goo has since dried up, and I am no longer synapsing at a sufficient rate. So, until next time, I love you for reading this, and will love you even more if you actually come back next time. Ate mais tarde! :)

 

 *As snarky as that sounds, I really do hate wasted food, for that very reason and more.

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