My Day Off In Wal-Mart
Today I set off to Wal-Mart in Cedar City, Utah. Now, the last time I went to a Wal-Mart was to perform an exorcism on the cash registers. No, I'm not kidding. Check out Reverend Billy and The Church of Stop Shopping…you might learn something.
Pulling into the parking lot I was feeling very hypocritical as my Pontiac with the bumper sticker that reads "Wal-Mart, Low wages, Low morals, Always" pulled into the parking spot.
But, remember I was on a mission. If you are confused, please read my previous posting called "I'm Getting Married in Wal-Mart". I had a list. Now I certainly did not plan to actually buy anything…clearly I would not give any of my hard earned cash to those fuckers...but I digress. The list: Toilet paper, socks, condoms, and guns. In one of those aisles would be the man of my dreams.
As I entered and tried desperately not to make eye contact with anyone in a blue vest or with a smiley face pin, my dyslexia freaked out a little bit and I slowly became very lost. After wandering though many aisles of crap, I found the toilet paper aisle…and there he was. He was tall, dressed in flannel and wore a cowboy hat that made his head look like a pea. I excused myself as I reached seductively in front of him and he says "Be careful, that one leaves extra lint in your butt".
Thanks for the tip. Moving along.
The sock aisle was lame. A woman with the Utah claw bangs chased around her twelve screaming kids. My head hurts. Moving along.
Now off to protect myself. Where are the condoms…wander…wander…holy shit there's a lot of crap in this store…wander…okay I'm gonna have to talk to a blue vested boob.
"Excuse me where are the condoms?"
The portly girl in the vest turned green and stuttered something that sounded like "uuuh smuhh dat vey mmmbuh". This is going well. Ah, behind a counter lie the condoms because Mormons must be kept far away from birth control. But, the boy behind the counter is mildly cute. Here we go.
"Hi. How are you? I'm gonna need some condoms. Um…some really big ones…and maybe some small ones too…cause you never really know. You know what I mean?" *wink.
Silence. Eye contact lost. Passengers, please fasten your seatbelts, the Mormon is going down.
More silence. Mmmkay. "The girl in the sock aisle needs them." Silence. No condoms. No boy of my dreams. Moving along.
Guns. Yeah baby. I will surely find a hottie in the gun section. Indeed there was a sea of wedding ringed men checking out guns and gun paraphernalia. I must have looked out of place because the man behind the counter said "Can I help you find something for your husband or your son?"
I look over my shoulder. Nothing. Try the other shoulder. Nope. Umm…is he talking to me? Yep. I explain that I don't have a husband or a son. The he asks HOW OLD I AM because I seem a little OLD to be single. As my jaw hits the floor, he invites me to a WARD event.
OH MY ACHING HEAD. I am starting to sweat. I have avoided lint in my ass, freaked out some undersexed locals, and ended my day by being called an Old Maid.
"That's so nice of you. My lesbian lover will be really excited to make some new friends. See you Saturday".
I took off running. I ran all the way through the maze to my car. I screeched out of the parking lot, past the Starbucks, and across town where I sit in my favorite local coffee shop.
Wow, days off in this town have officially atrophied my brain. I guess I am not getting married in Wal-Mart. Ho Hum.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
I'm getting married in Wal-Mart
The following article is from the St Petersburg Times in Tampa Bay Florida. It tells the Compelling story of a couple who got MARRIED in WAL-MART. It's a sweet story really...they met at Wal-Mart, work together at Wal-Mart, and of course there could be no better place to pledge their endless love than in the SOCK ISLE at fucking Wal-Mart.
Others have done it too. A couple once met in the toilet paper aisle and held their ceremony there.
Instead of my initial reaction of ANGELS AND MINISTERS OF GRACE DEFEND US WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD?????...I choose instead to further explore the theory of sparked love in the Wal-Mart aisles.
What if your eyes crossed with a hottie in the condom aisle? Well then...there is nothing to do but drop pants on the linoleum and test out some Trojans!
Perhaps you meet your perfect redneck at the gun aisle…or in the camping section. Well, you must live a while in the tester tents to see if your love will really last.
Maybe you meet your soul mate over some herpes medication in the Pharmacy. You really cannot leave the store until you find out if those pesky breakouts re-occur.
This article has taught me that I have been living my life all wrong! Here I am thinking that I am a responsible citizen who recognizes that Wal-Mart is EVIL and is ruining local business, continuing abusive trade practices, and employing people in deplorable conditions here in America and abroad. Well, HOLD UP…tomorrow I am going to find some toilet paper, socks, condoms, and guns (I'll skip the herpes meds thank you) and there….yes friends….THERE in WAL-MART I will find the Man of my Dreams.
I will let you know how it turns out.
FUCK.
***************
Wal-Mart wedding
They met at Wal-Mart, married at Wal-Mart, even bought their rings at Wal-Mart. So, where will they honeymoon? The Bahamas.
[Times photos: Carrie Pratt]
Store employees Debra and Mark Champagne kiss after exchanging vows Friday at a Palm Harbor Wal-Mart. Customer service representative and notary Carol Case, far right, performed the ceremony and shouts "W-A-L-M-A-R-T." Maid of honor Jennifer Nichols, left, works in accounting.
By JULIE CHURCH, Times Staff Writer
© St. Petersburg Times
published May 18, 2002
PALM HARBOR -- Wal-Mart shoppers hoping to take advantage of the three-pack sock deal in menswear Friday afternoon were out of luck.
A white wedding arch straddled the aisle between the men's Farah socks (three for $5) and the Wrangler denim shorts ($12.93).
A crowd gathered in front of the flowered ladies' pajamas and the Kathie Lee Gifford sportswear collection to witness the marriage of Mark Champagne and Debra Bechtel.
The couple met at the Wal-Mart on the corner of Alderman Road and U.S. 19 in North Pinellas. They work together at the store and chose to exchange vows there.
Mark and Debra slip away in a streamer-covered car filled with balloons. "I noticed her and thought she was cute," he says.
Mark Champagne, 44, first laid eyes on Debra Bechtel, 37, two years ago when he was visiting from Maine and shopped at the store. She has worked as a customer service manager for five years.
"I noticed her and thought she was cute," he said.
But it wasn't until he moved to the area last year and got a job in the garden department that they started dating.
Champagne popped the question last October on Pier 60 in Clearwater.
Then the planning began.
They were having difficulty finding a hall that wasn't booked when store manager Mark Telfer had an idea.
"My boss brought it up actually," Mrs. Champagne said. "He said, 'You guys met here, why don't you get married here?' "
Having the ceremony at Wal-Mart also allowed the couple to include everyone on their guest list.
"I starting making my list and it included just about everyone in the store. I thought it would be different and it would be fun," Mrs. Champagne said.
"Everyone works here," she said. "The guy walking me down the aisle, the woman performing the ceremony, the maid of honor and the best man, everyone."
Music from Mad about Classics, a CD the store sells, was piped through the store using equipment from the electronics department. The silk peace lilies and stone pedestals resembling swans were from the garden center and the crafts department.
Judy Smith, a former crafts department employee, made the bride's dress. The princess-cut diamond engagement ring and the gold wedding bands were bought at Wal-Mart.
"We get everything we can from Wal-Mart," Mr. Champagne said. "With three kids and a mortgage payment, we need the discount."
It was the second marriage for both. Mrs. Champagne's three children from her first marriage, Tabitha, 16, Tiffany, 14, and Jimmy Bowens, 13, stood up for their mom at the ceremony.
Carol Case, who works in customer service, is a licensed notary public for her other job -- working for a divorce attorney.
She has performed 14 or 15 weddings for Wal-Mart associates or their children. She shed her blue Wal-Mart vest Friday for a gold, floor-length gown.
"I love doing these weddings," she said. "It's a great excuse to get a new dress."
Katherine Tomaski and Etta Gannon attended in shorts and stood behind a cart full of paper towels and other household items. Friends of the bride who visit the store several times a week, they decided to get in a little shopping while waiting for the ceremony to begin.
"This is my favorite Wal-Mart," Tomaski said. "People are like family here."
A collective "oohhhh" came from the crowd of about 100 people as Mrs. Champagne rounded the corner near the cash registers in a white satin gown trimmed in lace and beads. A few people cried as she moved down the aisle.
Little did they know she almost tripped.
"My dress got caught on a (display) and I nearly lost it," she said after the 15-minute ceremony.
After a reception at the Palm Harbor Senior Activity Center, the couple is off to the Bahamas for their honeymoon.
Because the couple is registered on the Wal-Mart Web site, they expect a majority of their gifts to come from Wal-Mart as well.
While the idea of marrying in a Wal-Mart is novel, it certainly isn't unheard of, said corporate spokeswoman Sharon Weber.
She's aware of several weddings, including an 83-year-old greeter who met and married her husband at a Wal-Mart.
"They first laid eyes on each other across a shopping cart," Weber said.
She said two customers once met in the toilet paper aisle and held their ceremony in that same aisle.
As Mr. and Mrs. Mark Champagne faced the crowd for the first time as husband and wife Friday, the crowd recited the Wal-Mart cheer.
"W-A-L-M-A-R-T!" they yelled. "Who's No. 1 today? Debbie and Mark!"
Then they walked arm-in-arm from the store, and the employees returned to their stations, while shoppers returned to their carts in search of a bargain.
Others have done it too. A couple once met in the toilet paper aisle and held their ceremony there.
Instead of my initial reaction of ANGELS AND MINISTERS OF GRACE DEFEND US WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD?????...I choose instead to further explore the theory of sparked love in the Wal-Mart aisles.
What if your eyes crossed with a hottie in the condom aisle? Well then...there is nothing to do but drop pants on the linoleum and test out some Trojans!
Perhaps you meet your perfect redneck at the gun aisle…or in the camping section. Well, you must live a while in the tester tents to see if your love will really last.
Maybe you meet your soul mate over some herpes medication in the Pharmacy. You really cannot leave the store until you find out if those pesky breakouts re-occur.
This article has taught me that I have been living my life all wrong! Here I am thinking that I am a responsible citizen who recognizes that Wal-Mart is EVIL and is ruining local business, continuing abusive trade practices, and employing people in deplorable conditions here in America and abroad. Well, HOLD UP…tomorrow I am going to find some toilet paper, socks, condoms, and guns (I'll skip the herpes meds thank you) and there….yes friends….THERE in WAL-MART I will find the Man of my Dreams.
I will let you know how it turns out.
FUCK.
***************
Wal-Mart wedding
They met at Wal-Mart, married at Wal-Mart, even bought their rings at Wal-Mart. So, where will they honeymoon? The Bahamas.
[Times photos: Carrie Pratt]
Store employees Debra and Mark Champagne kiss after exchanging vows Friday at a Palm Harbor Wal-Mart. Customer service representative and notary Carol Case, far right, performed the ceremony and shouts "W-A-L-M-A-R-T." Maid of honor Jennifer Nichols, left, works in accounting.
By JULIE CHURCH, Times Staff Writer
© St. Petersburg Times
published May 18, 2002
PALM HARBOR -- Wal-Mart shoppers hoping to take advantage of the three-pack sock deal in menswear Friday afternoon were out of luck.
A white wedding arch straddled the aisle between the men's Farah socks (three for $5) and the Wrangler denim shorts ($12.93).
A crowd gathered in front of the flowered ladies' pajamas and the Kathie Lee Gifford sportswear collection to witness the marriage of Mark Champagne and Debra Bechtel.
The couple met at the Wal-Mart on the corner of Alderman Road and U.S. 19 in North Pinellas. They work together at the store and chose to exchange vows there.
Mark and Debra slip away in a streamer-covered car filled with balloons. "I noticed her and thought she was cute," he says.
Mark Champagne, 44, first laid eyes on Debra Bechtel, 37, two years ago when he was visiting from Maine and shopped at the store. She has worked as a customer service manager for five years.
"I noticed her and thought she was cute," he said.
But it wasn't until he moved to the area last year and got a job in the garden department that they started dating.
Champagne popped the question last October on Pier 60 in Clearwater.
Then the planning began.
They were having difficulty finding a hall that wasn't booked when store manager Mark Telfer had an idea.
"My boss brought it up actually," Mrs. Champagne said. "He said, 'You guys met here, why don't you get married here?' "
Having the ceremony at Wal-Mart also allowed the couple to include everyone on their guest list.
"I starting making my list and it included just about everyone in the store. I thought it would be different and it would be fun," Mrs. Champagne said.
"Everyone works here," she said. "The guy walking me down the aisle, the woman performing the ceremony, the maid of honor and the best man, everyone."
Music from Mad about Classics, a CD the store sells, was piped through the store using equipment from the electronics department. The silk peace lilies and stone pedestals resembling swans were from the garden center and the crafts department.
Judy Smith, a former crafts department employee, made the bride's dress. The princess-cut diamond engagement ring and the gold wedding bands were bought at Wal-Mart.
"We get everything we can from Wal-Mart," Mr. Champagne said. "With three kids and a mortgage payment, we need the discount."
It was the second marriage for both. Mrs. Champagne's three children from her first marriage, Tabitha, 16, Tiffany, 14, and Jimmy Bowens, 13, stood up for their mom at the ceremony.
Carol Case, who works in customer service, is a licensed notary public for her other job -- working for a divorce attorney.
She has performed 14 or 15 weddings for Wal-Mart associates or their children. She shed her blue Wal-Mart vest Friday for a gold, floor-length gown.
"I love doing these weddings," she said. "It's a great excuse to get a new dress."
Katherine Tomaski and Etta Gannon attended in shorts and stood behind a cart full of paper towels and other household items. Friends of the bride who visit the store several times a week, they decided to get in a little shopping while waiting for the ceremony to begin.
"This is my favorite Wal-Mart," Tomaski said. "People are like family here."
A collective "oohhhh" came from the crowd of about 100 people as Mrs. Champagne rounded the corner near the cash registers in a white satin gown trimmed in lace and beads. A few people cried as she moved down the aisle.
Little did they know she almost tripped.
"My dress got caught on a (display) and I nearly lost it," she said after the 15-minute ceremony.
After a reception at the Palm Harbor Senior Activity Center, the couple is off to the Bahamas for their honeymoon.
Because the couple is registered on the Wal-Mart Web site, they expect a majority of their gifts to come from Wal-Mart as well.
While the idea of marrying in a Wal-Mart is novel, it certainly isn't unheard of, said corporate spokeswoman Sharon Weber.
She's aware of several weddings, including an 83-year-old greeter who met and married her husband at a Wal-Mart.
"They first laid eyes on each other across a shopping cart," Weber said.
She said two customers once met in the toilet paper aisle and held their ceremony in that same aisle.
As Mr. and Mrs. Mark Champagne faced the crowd for the first time as husband and wife Friday, the crowd recited the Wal-Mart cheer.
"W-A-L-M-A-R-T!" they yelled. "Who's No. 1 today? Debbie and Mark!"
Then they walked arm-in-arm from the store, and the employees returned to their stations, while shoppers returned to their carts in search of a bargain.
Taking the Edge Off
Okay, it has been a long while since the routine installments of the *What the Fuck is Going on With the World* blogs. And it is indeed time to renew the tradition.
It has gotten really cold in hell…I mean in Cedar City, Utah. By cold, I mean that last night's lovely weather required me to wear a winter coat, scarf, and hat. There is no heat in my apartment. There is a mechanism of air ducts and a thermostat through which one would assume warmth would be released, but alas, no heat. So, yesterday I called Company Management.
Now, calling Company Management is like sitting at a craps table that is run by an autistic dealer with bouts of turrets (sp?)syndrome. You really never know what will happen.
A lovely young man answered the phone and directed me to call the manager of the building. We'll call him Bob. The manager has the same last name as the facilities manager who I deal with on a regular basis. We will call him Joe.
I say: Do you mean Joe?
No, I mean his brother Bob.
I say: Oh that's so funny.
What's so funny about it? I'm Bob's son and Joe is my uncle.
I say. Does your sister run concessions?
Silence.
Okay, thanks! I'll call Bob. I hate Utah.
Bob gives me the following information. The heat is not going to work until it gets cold. The fact that it is currently cold is meaningless because it will get warm again before it ACTUALLY gets cold. But, I should be assured that he checks the weather reports often and the boilers will be turned on once the cold is here to stay.
Great…so BOB what am I supposed to do right now during the FAKE cold front that is causing icicles to form on my nose while I sleep? There are polar bears trying to mate with my cat BOB!
He tells me to check my linen closet because there should be a space heater in there for just such an emergency. That should "take the edge off". Hollywood!
I run to the closet looking for one of those awesome radiators on wheels that you plug into the wall and Wamo! Hot air!
Instead there is a small box…no it is not larger than a breadbox…in fact it is smaller than a toaster. It is a tiny little white box with a short cord that will CLEARLY provide heat to an entire three-bedroom apartment. Not to mention the fact that it emits a noise that makes you wonder if it is about to sprout wings and fly around the apartment. I should work on that…at least the heat would spread.
Pajamas make me crazy. I hate pajamas. You cannot swish in pajamas. You know…swish…when you flail around to get comfortable under the covers. Pajamas get all fucked up when you swish. Suddenly you are a badly wrapped buritto with fabric turned all around on you…your pants are twirled around your legs, your t-shirt is pulled over your head…okay maybe I sleep strangely, but nonetheless…I HATE pajamas. Last night I slept in a tank top, long sleeve shirt, hooded fleece lined sweatshirt, pants and socks. SOCKS people! And the little white box of doom did not take the EDGE OFF.
Today is 76 degrees. Bob was right. It did get warm today. Thank god that was just fake cold. Perhaps Company Management will send out a memo so I know when I am actually allowed to feel cold…maybe then I will get a good night sleep.
Grr Hiss Boo.
It has gotten really cold in hell…I mean in Cedar City, Utah. By cold, I mean that last night's lovely weather required me to wear a winter coat, scarf, and hat. There is no heat in my apartment. There is a mechanism of air ducts and a thermostat through which one would assume warmth would be released, but alas, no heat. So, yesterday I called Company Management.
Now, calling Company Management is like sitting at a craps table that is run by an autistic dealer with bouts of turrets (sp?)syndrome. You really never know what will happen.
A lovely young man answered the phone and directed me to call the manager of the building. We'll call him Bob. The manager has the same last name as the facilities manager who I deal with on a regular basis. We will call him Joe.
I say: Do you mean Joe?
No, I mean his brother Bob.
I say: Oh that's so funny.
What's so funny about it? I'm Bob's son and Joe is my uncle.
I say. Does your sister run concessions?
Silence.
Okay, thanks! I'll call Bob. I hate Utah.
Bob gives me the following information. The heat is not going to work until it gets cold. The fact that it is currently cold is meaningless because it will get warm again before it ACTUALLY gets cold. But, I should be assured that he checks the weather reports often and the boilers will be turned on once the cold is here to stay.
Great…so BOB what am I supposed to do right now during the FAKE cold front that is causing icicles to form on my nose while I sleep? There are polar bears trying to mate with my cat BOB!
He tells me to check my linen closet because there should be a space heater in there for just such an emergency. That should "take the edge off". Hollywood!
I run to the closet looking for one of those awesome radiators on wheels that you plug into the wall and Wamo! Hot air!
Instead there is a small box…no it is not larger than a breadbox…in fact it is smaller than a toaster. It is a tiny little white box with a short cord that will CLEARLY provide heat to an entire three-bedroom apartment. Not to mention the fact that it emits a noise that makes you wonder if it is about to sprout wings and fly around the apartment. I should work on that…at least the heat would spread.
Pajamas make me crazy. I hate pajamas. You cannot swish in pajamas. You know…swish…when you flail around to get comfortable under the covers. Pajamas get all fucked up when you swish. Suddenly you are a badly wrapped buritto with fabric turned all around on you…your pants are twirled around your legs, your t-shirt is pulled over your head…okay maybe I sleep strangely, but nonetheless…I HATE pajamas. Last night I slept in a tank top, long sleeve shirt, hooded fleece lined sweatshirt, pants and socks. SOCKS people! And the little white box of doom did not take the EDGE OFF.
Today is 76 degrees. Bob was right. It did get warm today. Thank god that was just fake cold. Perhaps Company Management will send out a memo so I know when I am actually allowed to feel cold…maybe then I will get a good night sleep.
Grr Hiss Boo.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Travel and Pooping
Shit Happens. To everyone every day. It is a necessary part of life. Now, where is it most comfortable to poop? In your own bathroom of course. It is clean…or if not, at least you know who the germs belong to. The act of pooping is different every time. Sometimes it is taken care of quickly…like that beautiful morning post cup of coffee and cigarette poop. Done and Done. Let's start a good day! Other times, shit happens where you don't want it to.
Example: On an airplane. You sit in your seat wedged between fat strangers and think "No problem, just a little gas, readjust the position of the bootie and all will be fine". Then, you start to sweat a little bit. You look down many rows of coach and see hords of disgruntled people with their scowls and their germy hands and even germy-er other parts. As they wait on line for the metal hole called a bathroom, you refuse to admit that you have to poop. A few minutes later…still sweating…still adjusting the boot-hey ...adding in a little butt squeeze…there is no denying it.
Now, you start doing math. That's right. Math. How long have I been on this flight? How much longer till we land? What time zone am I in? Ok, so if I got on the plane at x:00 and it's now x:00 and with a three hour time difference, that means that I have: FUCK I HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH LONGER I HAVE TO BE ON THIS FLYING DEATH TANK AND I HAVE TO SHIT!
So, the voyage begins. Seat into an upright position. Tray up. Fwack. OW. Tray up. Fwack. OW. What? Do I look like fucking MacGeyver? Hold on, let me get my duct tape and my swiss army knife and I'll fix that broken tray. OH WAIT I CAN'T because my swiss army knife was taken at the airport because CLEARLY my Irish ass looks like a terrorist. I digress…I still have to poop.
So, you crawl over the broken tray and say excuse me to the fat lady seated on your left and the push the drooling Chinese man off your right shoulder (Apparently during the math debacle, Mr. Choo decided I looked like a pillow).
And now the long walk through coach. The dregs of society fly coach. I am in coach. I am a dreg. Did they only let large, drooling, handicapped people on this plane with me? Is this a joke? Walk faster and DON'T SHART!
Okay made it to the sliding accordion door of doom. Occupied. No problem, I can wait. Yep, it's all good. I am not panicking and I am not sharting. Nope, I am just standing in the aisle like a lady. A sweaty lady with a pooping emergency. HURRY UP YOU BASTARD! Wait…I hear voices. I hear two voices. A woman and…and a tiny voice. Now look…I LOVE children. I WANT children (tick tock). But, really, lady…do you have to educate your child on what happens to the ca ca as it spins down the metal hole while the big plane is flying? NO YOU DON"T! There are good people of the world who have to poop….UNfat, NON-drooling, good people of the world. GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM!
FINALLY! OK, don't touch the door handle. Paper, where is the paper? Okay, door closed. Work the button fly, girl! Come on. Now…..HOVER. Hovering in heels is not easy. Why am I traveling in heels? Maybe I am handicapped.
OH SWEET JESUS! Life is good again.
*staring into the hole* "I wonder where the poop goes."
BANG BANG!
"Hey lady, there's people waitin out here!"
oh, right. Hmmm.
Example: On an airplane. You sit in your seat wedged between fat strangers and think "No problem, just a little gas, readjust the position of the bootie and all will be fine". Then, you start to sweat a little bit. You look down many rows of coach and see hords of disgruntled people with their scowls and their germy hands and even germy-er other parts. As they wait on line for the metal hole called a bathroom, you refuse to admit that you have to poop. A few minutes later…still sweating…still adjusting the boot-hey ...adding in a little butt squeeze…there is no denying it.
Now, you start doing math. That's right. Math. How long have I been on this flight? How much longer till we land? What time zone am I in? Ok, so if I got on the plane at x:00 and it's now x:00 and with a three hour time difference, that means that I have: FUCK I HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH LONGER I HAVE TO BE ON THIS FLYING DEATH TANK AND I HAVE TO SHIT!
So, the voyage begins. Seat into an upright position. Tray up. Fwack. OW. Tray up. Fwack. OW. What? Do I look like fucking MacGeyver? Hold on, let me get my duct tape and my swiss army knife and I'll fix that broken tray. OH WAIT I CAN'T because my swiss army knife was taken at the airport because CLEARLY my Irish ass looks like a terrorist. I digress…I still have to poop.
So, you crawl over the broken tray and say excuse me to the fat lady seated on your left and the push the drooling Chinese man off your right shoulder (Apparently during the math debacle, Mr. Choo decided I looked like a pillow).
And now the long walk through coach. The dregs of society fly coach. I am in coach. I am a dreg. Did they only let large, drooling, handicapped people on this plane with me? Is this a joke? Walk faster and DON'T SHART!
Okay made it to the sliding accordion door of doom. Occupied. No problem, I can wait. Yep, it's all good. I am not panicking and I am not sharting. Nope, I am just standing in the aisle like a lady. A sweaty lady with a pooping emergency. HURRY UP YOU BASTARD! Wait…I hear voices. I hear two voices. A woman and…and a tiny voice. Now look…I LOVE children. I WANT children (tick tock). But, really, lady…do you have to educate your child on what happens to the ca ca as it spins down the metal hole while the big plane is flying? NO YOU DON"T! There are good people of the world who have to poop….UNfat, NON-drooling, good people of the world. GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM!
FINALLY! OK, don't touch the door handle. Paper, where is the paper? Okay, door closed. Work the button fly, girl! Come on. Now…..HOVER. Hovering in heels is not easy. Why am I traveling in heels? Maybe I am handicapped.
OH SWEET JESUS! Life is good again.
*staring into the hole* "I wonder where the poop goes."
BANG BANG!
"Hey lady, there's people waitin out here!"
oh, right. Hmmm.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
poop
When I was a smoker, my morning had a routine. I know, I know-a stage manager with a routine, unbelievable! Yes, I also structure my personal life. But moving on. Wake up, march to the coffee machine, stare angrily at the coffee machine until it is finished, pour coffee. Smoke cigarette while drinking coffee. Stare at the news and wonder why the fuck I was up so early-the world is going to shit anyway so why not just sleep through it, pour more coffee. Open the New York Times, read for a few minutes. Smoke cigarette number two with coffee and TADA! It was time to poop!
So, if you read this blog, you know that I have quit smoking. And pooping for that matter. Now, many of you know that I think poop is a very funny thing. What is NOT funny is NOT POOPING. Today I POOPED! With no coffee and no cigarettes, I woke up and pooped! Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way!
So, if you read this blog, you know that I have quit smoking. And pooping for that matter. Now, many of you know that I think poop is a very funny thing. What is NOT funny is NOT POOPING. Today I POOPED! With no coffee and no cigarettes, I woke up and pooped! Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way!
Crash and Burn and Do you speak English?
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
I woke up fairly early today...keep in mind I am a theatre girl so an early wake up means anytime before 10:00 a.m. Today was a 9:00 wake up. It was a cold morning, but a nice day for a run. I am beginning to realize how much I love this city and how much I will miss it during my six months away. I am thrilled to go back to Utah, but while I was jogging on the National Mall this morning, I thought about how much I take this city for granted, and how much of what it offers that I simply ignore. I guess we all get so busy with life that we don't see all that is around us. I don't know. Do people that live in Utah stop noticing the mountains? I hope not.
I was waiting to have lunch with Mark K when he called to cancel. Although it would have been fun, I was fairly relieved because my to do list was growing. I headed out to target to do some shopping for my trip to Austria. I needed batteries, a refill for my maglite bulb, an umbrella, a European electrical outlet adapter, and some other shit. I found myself having significant aisle rage.
WHY is it that women with babies in strollers see you walking with a cart at a brisk pace and feel the need to pull out right in front of you only to do the mommy stroll?
WHY is it that no one at Target knows where anything is?
WHY is it that LCD bulbs cost $20?
WHY is it so freaking hard to find an umbrella? I looked everywhere and finally found one in the Accessories aisle. Is an umbrella really an accessory?
WHY is that store such a fucking maze? I think I passed the maternity section (the only part of the store where I knew I didn't need to shop) a dozen times.
AND finally...WHY do they always over charge me? AND get pissed off at ME when I bring them the receipt and try to correct the error.
I want a fucking cigarette.
Okay, sorry. I am feeling better. I appreciate the time to vent.
I leave for Austria tomorrow to tour THE OFFICE. The company is DC based and produces Visually Based Theatre that is performed by deaf artists. I have worked with them in the past and am thrilled to take on this new adventure.
Here is the problem. My German sucks. And my ASL is atrocious. So, I called my father and told him everything I remembered how to say in German...you know things like: My name is Erin. I am a Stage Manager, Where is the bathroom?, I need a map, Where is a telephone?, I am hungry, Where do I buy shoes?...the important things. I nailed the words, but Dad laughed hysterically at my accent. If my father laughs that hard, the Austrian stage technicians will have a field day.
I have been sitting in front of the TV watching, pausing, and watching an ASL DVD. I am catching on a bit. I guess at the least, knowing the alphabet is good because if I can't think of the sign I can take four hours to spell it out letter by letter.
So, I am off to pack some more. I am trying to keep the bags small because I will literally be on subways, busses, planes, and trains in the next days.
OH!!! One more thing...the plane thing. I really hate to fly. Having said that...I am taking the AIRBUS from Amsterdam to Vienna.
THE AIRBUS!
The huge plane with the wing span of a football field that can hold 4 million people, a marching band, Ann Coulter's ego, and livestock-two of every kind. OK I am exaggerating...but it is HUGE and it is NEW and it is HUGE and I am not convinced that things that large should really fly...At least with me in it.
So, if you hear of an AIRBUS crashing, just think of me-drowsy and drooling from Dramamine with people signing at me and others yelling at me in Kraut speak to get out of the flames. I am screwed.
I woke up fairly early today...keep in mind I am a theatre girl so an early wake up means anytime before 10:00 a.m. Today was a 9:00 wake up. It was a cold morning, but a nice day for a run. I am beginning to realize how much I love this city and how much I will miss it during my six months away. I am thrilled to go back to Utah, but while I was jogging on the National Mall this morning, I thought about how much I take this city for granted, and how much of what it offers that I simply ignore. I guess we all get so busy with life that we don't see all that is around us. I don't know. Do people that live in Utah stop noticing the mountains? I hope not.
I was waiting to have lunch with Mark K when he called to cancel. Although it would have been fun, I was fairly relieved because my to do list was growing. I headed out to target to do some shopping for my trip to Austria. I needed batteries, a refill for my maglite bulb, an umbrella, a European electrical outlet adapter, and some other shit. I found myself having significant aisle rage.
WHY is it that women with babies in strollers see you walking with a cart at a brisk pace and feel the need to pull out right in front of you only to do the mommy stroll?
WHY is it that no one at Target knows where anything is?
WHY is it that LCD bulbs cost $20?
WHY is it so freaking hard to find an umbrella? I looked everywhere and finally found one in the Accessories aisle. Is an umbrella really an accessory?
WHY is that store such a fucking maze? I think I passed the maternity section (the only part of the store where I knew I didn't need to shop) a dozen times.
AND finally...WHY do they always over charge me? AND get pissed off at ME when I bring them the receipt and try to correct the error.
I want a fucking cigarette.
Okay, sorry. I am feeling better. I appreciate the time to vent.
I leave for Austria tomorrow to tour THE OFFICE. The company is DC based and produces Visually Based Theatre that is performed by deaf artists. I have worked with them in the past and am thrilled to take on this new adventure.
Here is the problem. My German sucks. And my ASL is atrocious. So, I called my father and told him everything I remembered how to say in German...you know things like: My name is Erin. I am a Stage Manager, Where is the bathroom?, I need a map, Where is a telephone?, I am hungry, Where do I buy shoes?...the important things. I nailed the words, but Dad laughed hysterically at my accent. If my father laughs that hard, the Austrian stage technicians will have a field day.
I have been sitting in front of the TV watching, pausing, and watching an ASL DVD. I am catching on a bit. I guess at the least, knowing the alphabet is good because if I can't think of the sign I can take four hours to spell it out letter by letter.
So, I am off to pack some more. I am trying to keep the bags small because I will literally be on subways, busses, planes, and trains in the next days.
OH!!! One more thing...the plane thing. I really hate to fly. Having said that...I am taking the AIRBUS from Amsterdam to Vienna.
THE AIRBUS!
The huge plane with the wing span of a football field that can hold 4 million people, a marching band, Ann Coulter's ego, and livestock-two of every kind. OK I am exaggerating...but it is HUGE and it is NEW and it is HUGE and I am not convinced that things that large should really fly...At least with me in it.
So, if you hear of an AIRBUS crashing, just think of me-drowsy and drooling from Dramamine with people signing at me and others yelling at me in Kraut speak to get out of the flames. I am screwed.
I told that Kraut a fuckin' thousand times, I don't roll on shabbos! ...
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
I told that Kraut a fuckin' thousand times, I don't roll on shabbos! ...
Austria is an amazing place!
I have been racking up the adventures as a stage manager in Austria...here's the short.
I left DC on Thursday afternoon and headed to Dulles airport. Driven by Luisray's friend Teddy...he is a lovely man but drives like his pants are on fire...not to mention that he was signing the entire time, so there was rarely a hand on the wheel. I think I pooped a little. Anyway, thanks for the ride, Teddy.
We took a long flight from Dulles to Amsterdam. I can't sleep on planes...in fact I can't do much on planes except for freak out. Now, Mark had sent me DVDs of the first season of LOST for my plane ride. Yeah, a very sweet gesture, but do you know what they do on the first season of LOST??? THEY CRASH A FUCKING PLANE. I made it through 2 episodes and then thought that I might be tempting fate a bit too aggressively, so I sat quietly while the German in front of me with eight foot legs slammed the back of his chair into my legs for a few hours.
We landed in Amsterdam and had no time to explore...off to the next gate.
Now, I will pause to tell you about the airport. The airport was beautiful. It was like a big shopping mall filled with artwork and the most plush smoking lounges EVERYWHERE. I almost jumped a man for a cig...this will become a theme of my trip.
At the gate, there was a screwup with my ticket and they weren't sure if I could board or if my luggage was still in DC…but after a few minutes, all was good and I was on plane #2. Now, if you have read my previous blogs you would know that plane #2 was expected to be a HUGE AIRBUS. It was actually a very small plane and I was quite pleased. Thank god it was only a two hour flight because I was sitting behind a small boy whose parents were seated five rows back. He found it necessary to jump up and down on his seat and yell what I decided was "Mom!" and "Dad" every two minutes. I almost strangled him. Or roll him up and smoke him.
Okay, so I can't type anymore…but to come is the following:
Vienna
Endless train rides with actors and chairs.
Drinking
Shows
Lienz and a techno dance club with a boy
Drinking
Amstetten and a MEAN Austrian lighting man
WEIRD theatre
Drinking
Walking tours
Drinking
And MORE!
I told that Kraut a fuckin' thousand times, I don't roll on shabbos! ...
Austria is an amazing place!
I have been racking up the adventures as a stage manager in Austria...here's the short.
I left DC on Thursday afternoon and headed to Dulles airport. Driven by Luisray's friend Teddy...he is a lovely man but drives like his pants are on fire...not to mention that he was signing the entire time, so there was rarely a hand on the wheel. I think I pooped a little. Anyway, thanks for the ride, Teddy.
We took a long flight from Dulles to Amsterdam. I can't sleep on planes...in fact I can't do much on planes except for freak out. Now, Mark had sent me DVDs of the first season of LOST for my plane ride. Yeah, a very sweet gesture, but do you know what they do on the first season of LOST??? THEY CRASH A FUCKING PLANE. I made it through 2 episodes and then thought that I might be tempting fate a bit too aggressively, so I sat quietly while the German in front of me with eight foot legs slammed the back of his chair into my legs for a few hours.
We landed in Amsterdam and had no time to explore...off to the next gate.
Now, I will pause to tell you about the airport. The airport was beautiful. It was like a big shopping mall filled with artwork and the most plush smoking lounges EVERYWHERE. I almost jumped a man for a cig...this will become a theme of my trip.
At the gate, there was a screwup with my ticket and they weren't sure if I could board or if my luggage was still in DC…but after a few minutes, all was good and I was on plane #2. Now, if you have read my previous blogs you would know that plane #2 was expected to be a HUGE AIRBUS. It was actually a very small plane and I was quite pleased. Thank god it was only a two hour flight because I was sitting behind a small boy whose parents were seated five rows back. He found it necessary to jump up and down on his seat and yell what I decided was "Mom!" and "Dad" every two minutes. I almost strangled him. Or roll him up and smoke him.
Okay, so I can't type anymore…but to come is the following:
Vienna
Endless train rides with actors and chairs.
Drinking
Shows
Lienz and a techno dance club with a boy
Drinking
Amstetten and a MEAN Austrian lighting man
WEIRD theatre
Drinking
Walking tours
Drinking
And MORE!
Leaving
Saturday, March 31, 2007
I really....
I really...
Don't want to leave Vienna
Miss my cat
Wish life was easy
Struggle not to cry
Want a room alone
Want a room together
Want to hear the noisy street outside my apartment
Want to get it out off my mind
Want to communicate
Want to talk aloud
Want to never talk again
Want to feel it with my soul
Want to press it with my body
Want to feel it again
Or never again
Or always
Want to cry for a little while
Need to gain perspective
I really....
I really...
Don't want to leave Vienna
Miss my cat
Wish life was easy
Struggle not to cry
Want a room alone
Want a room together
Want to hear the noisy street outside my apartment
Want to get it out off my mind
Want to communicate
Want to talk aloud
Want to never talk again
Want to feel it with my soul
Want to press it with my body
Want to feel it again
Or never again
Or always
Want to cry for a little while
Need to gain perspective
Relationship Advice From A Failure
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
So I am back from Austria and I really do have lots of great stories to tell….
But I must take a moment and give some needed advice to all of you stupid ass people out there…and there are many of you…
TO YOU MEN:
If you are spending time with a woman and it is clear that there is an attraction, she in all likelihood will ask a question…5 little words that go like this…"Do you have a girlfriend"
There are two ways to answer this question.
If the true answer is no…then say "No". Whoo Hoo that was easy. Look at that go light!
If the true answer is yes…SAY "YES"
If the true answer is yes…DO NOT SAY "NO"
And for the love of all that is good, do not say "NO" and then kiss her.
And do not say "No", kiss her, and then continue a fake relationship for two weeks.
And DO NOT say "NO", kiss her, continue a relationship and then e-mail her to say that you had fun but you actually have a girlfriend, but it is cool because you are in an open relationship so you weren't cheating.
AND DO NOT SAY "No", kiss her, continue a relationship, email her about an open relationship, and then ask her to be friends.
TO THE WOMEN:
If your boyfriend decides that he wants an open relationship-this DOES NOT MEAN THE FOLLOWING:
That he loves you so much but isn't ready to commit totally.
That he is young and wants to be free before he decides that you are the one and only.
That he wants you to experience others so that your love can grow stronger.
IT DOES MEAN:
THAT HE WANTS TO FUCK EVERYONE HE SEES…but don't worry he keeps you around to look pretty on his arm when he needs a girlfriend…or backup sex when no one new is around.
And to MEN and WOMEN: Remember that you have a lot of terrific friends who don't lie to you…and you don't need new ones that do.
Thank you that is all.
Don't drink the water. There seems to be something ailing everyone.
So I am back from Austria and I really do have lots of great stories to tell….
But I must take a moment and give some needed advice to all of you stupid ass people out there…and there are many of you…
TO YOU MEN:
If you are spending time with a woman and it is clear that there is an attraction, she in all likelihood will ask a question…5 little words that go like this…"Do you have a girlfriend"
There are two ways to answer this question.
If the true answer is no…then say "No". Whoo Hoo that was easy. Look at that go light!
If the true answer is yes…SAY "YES"
If the true answer is yes…DO NOT SAY "NO"
And for the love of all that is good, do not say "NO" and then kiss her.
And do not say "No", kiss her, and then continue a fake relationship for two weeks.
And DO NOT say "NO", kiss her, continue a relationship and then e-mail her to say that you had fun but you actually have a girlfriend, but it is cool because you are in an open relationship so you weren't cheating.
AND DO NOT SAY "No", kiss her, continue a relationship, email her about an open relationship, and then ask her to be friends.
TO THE WOMEN:
If your boyfriend decides that he wants an open relationship-this DOES NOT MEAN THE FOLLOWING:
That he loves you so much but isn't ready to commit totally.
That he is young and wants to be free before he decides that you are the one and only.
That he wants you to experience others so that your love can grow stronger.
IT DOES MEAN:
THAT HE WANTS TO FUCK EVERYONE HE SEES…but don't worry he keeps you around to look pretty on his arm when he needs a girlfriend…or backup sex when no one new is around.
And to MEN and WOMEN: Remember that you have a lot of terrific friends who don't lie to you…and you don't need new ones that do.
Thank you that is all.
Don't drink the water. There seems to be something ailing everyone.
The times they are a changin
Friday, April 06, 2007
So in the past few weeks I have closed a show and left Arena Stage, gone to Austria to tour a show, returned to the states, and now begin packing my apartment and seeing friends before I drive across this beautiful country to Utah.
I am really excited. My shows at Utah are challenging and exciting. If I close my eyes these last 8 months, I see the mountains of Cedar City and the faces of friends that hang their hat there. In a few short weeks I will be there.
But, I must admit I am a bit sad. I have felt like a grown up in DC. I have an apartment and consistent work in one city...and in a city that I love. I have a really cool aparment. I have a really cool cat. I have great friends. Now, I know that my apartment will be here when I get back, my cat has a good home with mom and dad, and my friends are just a phone call away.
Is the way that I am feeling normal? Or am, I getting old? Am I starting to wish that I was a normal person? You know, a person who lives in one city and goes through the same doors each morning and evening at a place called work. A person who has consistant health insurance and doesn't have to count weeks. A person who can meet other single people and not have to say "Hi, I'm Erin and I live in this city for three months."
Well, I suppose that the cramping feeling in my gut that started as I typed those words means that NO, that life does not appeal to me. Not enough to buy a suit and schedule interviews at a temp agency anyway. So onward and upward.
And if you are in DC and wanna throw back a beer or ten before I leave...call me!
So in the past few weeks I have closed a show and left Arena Stage, gone to Austria to tour a show, returned to the states, and now begin packing my apartment and seeing friends before I drive across this beautiful country to Utah.
I am really excited. My shows at Utah are challenging and exciting. If I close my eyes these last 8 months, I see the mountains of Cedar City and the faces of friends that hang their hat there. In a few short weeks I will be there.
But, I must admit I am a bit sad. I have felt like a grown up in DC. I have an apartment and consistent work in one city...and in a city that I love. I have a really cool aparment. I have a really cool cat. I have great friends. Now, I know that my apartment will be here when I get back, my cat has a good home with mom and dad, and my friends are just a phone call away.
Is the way that I am feeling normal? Or am, I getting old? Am I starting to wish that I was a normal person? You know, a person who lives in one city and goes through the same doors each morning and evening at a place called work. A person who has consistant health insurance and doesn't have to count weeks. A person who can meet other single people and not have to say "Hi, I'm Erin and I live in this city for three months."
Well, I suppose that the cramping feeling in my gut that started as I typed those words means that NO, that life does not appeal to me. Not enough to buy a suit and schedule interviews at a temp agency anyway. So onward and upward.
And if you are in DC and wanna throw back a beer or ten before I leave...call me!
The Bunny can't go home again
I am at my parents' house in PA for the Easter weekend. It is a wild time here in Amish country. Really just today there was a bird stuck in a cardboard box in my parents' garage. You should have seen my mom running and screaming. Anyway, as I get older I wonder about my mother's huge desire to celebrate Easter with her family. There are no kids to do an egg hunt, everyone is on a diet, so if I bring chocolate into the house it is a mortal sin, and I sure as hell do not go to church. So, basically my attendance at Easter means that I sit around, eat alot of their food, do free laundry and drink beer with my dad.
Now, keep in mind, I an not complaining about my role in Easter celebration. It just doesn't really feel like Easter. Yes, I suppose that if I went to church with the good people (my mom, sister and sister's fiance) I might get that "praise Jesus for rising!" kinda feeling-maybe that would be more Eastery. But I usually get the "Run the homophobic, racist, intollerant priest over with my car!" kinda feeling, and that doesn't seem Eastery at all.
So, instead I will sit in the house and watch the snow-yes I am dreaming of a white Easter has been sung by yours truly for two days-and covertly eat my chocolate bunny without any of the dieters discovering my secret gluttony and I will tell my father that his Bob Ross painting class in really improving his tree technique and keep a straight face while saying so.
Now, keep in mind, I an not complaining about my role in Easter celebration. It just doesn't really feel like Easter. Yes, I suppose that if I went to church with the good people (my mom, sister and sister's fiance) I might get that "praise Jesus for rising!" kinda feeling-maybe that would be more Eastery. But I usually get the "Run the homophobic, racist, intollerant priest over with my car!" kinda feeling, and that doesn't seem Eastery at all.
So, instead I will sit in the house and watch the snow-yes I am dreaming of a white Easter has been sung by yours truly for two days-and covertly eat my chocolate bunny without any of the dieters discovering my secret gluttony and I will tell my father that his Bob Ross painting class in really improving his tree technique and keep a straight face while saying so.
Annoying Moments of the day
1. News people who say "Wassup Gurl?" when cutting to a live story.
2. Blogs in which people actually state how incredibly smart they are…so smart in fact that they do not need to concern themselves with proper grammar or conjugations.
3. The red haired bug-eyed woman who is on the commercials for the Room Store. I think she's on crank. Have you SEEN her eyes? They are really insane!
4. People who send messages that say things like "can't wate till tomorrow night". WATE?
5. Production Managers who don't call me back when I am unemployed, but once I have a contract signed, they send a constant stream of offers for work in the city WHERE I ACTUALLY LIVE!
6. Hot men who say things like "I wanted to ask you out 8 months ago but I thought you hated me…such a shame you're leaving town".
7. When people sit next to me on the subway and fart AT ME when they climb over to get to the doors.
8. People who ask if you have seen a specific movie. You say no, you haven't seen the movie and they proceed to quote it and fall to the ground laughing. Hello People, I don't get the reference!
Ah I feel better.
And good things...if you haven't already, go see the WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY
It's a great movie about the IRA in County Cork Ireland in the 1920s.
And
THE LIVES OF OTHERS...a German film about the GRD and their obsessive monitoring of artists.
Yes, you have the READ the later movie. Don't worry, it's worth it :)
lata'
2. Blogs in which people actually state how incredibly smart they are…so smart in fact that they do not need to concern themselves with proper grammar or conjugations.
3. The red haired bug-eyed woman who is on the commercials for the Room Store. I think she's on crank. Have you SEEN her eyes? They are really insane!
4. People who send messages that say things like "can't wate till tomorrow night". WATE?
5. Production Managers who don't call me back when I am unemployed, but once I have a contract signed, they send a constant stream of offers for work in the city WHERE I ACTUALLY LIVE!
6. Hot men who say things like "I wanted to ask you out 8 months ago but I thought you hated me…such a shame you're leaving town".
7. When people sit next to me on the subway and fart AT ME when they climb over to get to the doors.
8. People who ask if you have seen a specific movie. You say no, you haven't seen the movie and they proceed to quote it and fall to the ground laughing. Hello People, I don't get the reference!
Ah I feel better.
And good things...if you haven't already, go see the WIND THAT SHAKES THE BARLEY
It's a great movie about the IRA in County Cork Ireland in the 1920s.
And
THE LIVES OF OTHERS...a German film about the GRD and their obsessive monitoring of artists.
Yes, you have the READ the later movie. Don't worry, it's worth it :)
lata'
Virginia Tech
To all my classmates and cherished teachers at Virginia Tech, I send you my love and my thoughts. Your strength of character will pull you through this tragic day. A future of bold and tender artistic choices will begin the healing. I think of you today and always.
Hurdeling
I'm talking the advice from a really special person.
I'm chilling the fuck out.
I haven't been allowing myself to have fun.
I have been allowing work to become my everything...cause work is fun...but what about life?
I've been hurdeling myself through time and space. I'm angry. I spend too much time crying until it hurts.
Letting Go.
Last night I drank way too much wine and had wonderful conversation with 2 lovely new friends.
Today, I took some Advil and a bottle of water and I drove up the canyon. I opened all of the windows in my car and sang at the top of my lungs. The wind blew through my hair and I felt more free than I have in a long time. I breathed deep as the air became cooler the further I drove. I stopped in Webster's Flats, got out of the car and drank in the day. I layed in the grass, danced with a chipmunk, and thought about all the bull shit I have put myself and the ones that love me through. I laughed, hard, at my own flaws.
The papers came today. Stamped and Sealed. Done.
I'm gonna stop blaming everyone around me for the pain of the past. I must let go, I must breathe in and exhale the poisen that has made me bitter and suspicious, and angry.
That's not who I am. It has been for a short while. But, no more.
I chose this path...because it is what makes me happy. Then, for fuck's sake Erin! Have some fun!
"I'm still trying to live half a life on the road. Seems I'm heavier by the year, and heavier by the load". -Indigo Girls
I'm chilling the fuck out.
I haven't been allowing myself to have fun.
I have been allowing work to become my everything...cause work is fun...but what about life?
I've been hurdeling myself through time and space. I'm angry. I spend too much time crying until it hurts.
Letting Go.
Last night I drank way too much wine and had wonderful conversation with 2 lovely new friends.
Today, I took some Advil and a bottle of water and I drove up the canyon. I opened all of the windows in my car and sang at the top of my lungs. The wind blew through my hair and I felt more free than I have in a long time. I breathed deep as the air became cooler the further I drove. I stopped in Webster's Flats, got out of the car and drank in the day. I layed in the grass, danced with a chipmunk, and thought about all the bull shit I have put myself and the ones that love me through. I laughed, hard, at my own flaws.
The papers came today. Stamped and Sealed. Done.
I'm gonna stop blaming everyone around me for the pain of the past. I must let go, I must breathe in and exhale the poisen that has made me bitter and suspicious, and angry.
That's not who I am. It has been for a short while. But, no more.
I chose this path...because it is what makes me happy. Then, for fuck's sake Erin! Have some fun!
"I'm still trying to live half a life on the road. Seems I'm heavier by the year, and heavier by the load". -Indigo Girls
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