Tag: humour

Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award.

So, this doll over at The Pretty Platform nominated me for an award. No, seriously. Look how cute this girl is.

Elke at the Pretty Platform

Right? Adorable. So, Elke, because you’re too cute to say no to, I accept 😉

sisterhood-of-the-world-bloggers-award

Okay. Here are the rules!

As I accept this nomination, the following must be accomplished:

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you, linking back to their site.
2. Put the award logo on your blog.
3. Answer the ten questions sent to you.
4. Make up ten new questions for your nominees to answer.
5. Nominate seven blogs.
I got this.
The Answers
  1. If there was a book written about you, what would it be titled? At Least She Meant Well.
  2. If you could go back to any age in your life, which would it be, and why? Well, I have made splendidly horrendous mistakes at every stage of my life, so I wouldn’t say I had any desirable “stage.” And I’m 42 now but have never minded the journey of getting older so there isn’t a younger age I’d want to be. That leaves the obvious – I would go back to any time prior to December 15, 2014 when I still had my mom and best friend.  That was all the best stage.
  3. What single accomplishment are you most proud of? I’m proud of my three as-yet-unpublished novels. Because I never quit. Even when I came so close the first time only to suffer a huge disappointment – I just moved on to the next book. Full-time job, kids, law school – didn’t matter. A writer writes.
  4. Country living or city living? Suburb living looking to escape to the country. I want chickens. And a goat.
  5. What’s your favorite joke? Do tell. The past, the present, and the future walked into a bar. It was tense.
  6. Are you an ugly or pretty crier? I’ve actually become an expert in the matter. I’ve got the pretty cry, the ugly one, the rogue-tear one, the cry-till-you’re-hoarse one, and the I-swear-to-god-I-seriously-need-to-stop-crying one.
  7. If you could donate money to one cause, to one organization, which would it be? St. Jude’s Hospital. Anything for children. And it was my mom’s favorite.
  8. What do you think should be taught in schools today that isn’t already? I’m not a huge proponent of shock value, but after I saw “American History X,” I thought it should be shown in high schools. With all the language, violence and hard R rating intact. I don’t know that I’ve seen another movie that more accurately embodies the futility and tragedy of hatred more than that movie.
  9. How do you like your steak cooked? I don’t remember. Haven’t had a steak in about 33 years.
  10. What vacation spot did you enjoy the most? That’s tough. I love love love to travel. I guess I would say Blarney Castle in Ireland. Sad that it’s only known for kissing that nasty stone. The grounds are so beautiful, I could have stayed for a year.

The Questions for the Nominees

  1. What are you most afraid of?
  2. Star Wars or Star Trek?
  3. What is your favorite book?
  4. Now what is your real favorite book that that doesn’t make you look as intellectual as your answer in number 3?
  5. If you could trade places with any currently living celebrity, who would it be?
  6. Do you believe in ghosts?
  7. What is your favorite Pixar movie?
  8. What is the most impulsive thing you’ve ever done?
  9. What is your favorite genre of food?
  10. Who is your favorite Disney princess?

My Nominees

  1. Gone Catawampus – love love love these girls. Sorry to be redundant, cause I’ve nominated them for stuff before, but they never disappoint.
  2. Never Trust a Jellyfish – just the name makes me smile. As do most of her posts.
  3. Heather Christena Schmidt – Love her humor and honesty.
  4. The Stay at Home Philosopher – Quirky and clever. And I love quirky.
  5. Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy. – AKA Aussa Lorens. Okay. She’s kind of a big deal and this is not news, but she’s just so damn funny.
  6. Some Offense Intended – because offensive is funny if you’re smart.
  7. Have You Seen My Glass Slipper? – because Kay is way more clever than I was at 18.

So, thanks to the lovely Elke. And I apologize to my nominees for the homework assignment.

Much love.

Erin

Give Me 5 Minutes and I’ll Get You Excited for the Zombie Apocalypse.

Zombie Apocalypse Of course, some of you need no convincing and are probably already stockpiling ammo and bottled water. But for the rest of you…

I’m a fan of zombie movies, new and old, and a huge Walking Dead fan. But what I’ve realized is that there is an emotional component to the draw of the zombie apocalypse that’s driving my desire for apocalypse-themed entertainment lately.

Think about it. It’s all about survival. Nothing strips away the bullshit of our day-to-day lives like a hoard of mindless, flesh-eating zombies. Because that parent-teacher conference you were dreading next week? Pretty sure it’s canceled. Still upset that a couple of your friends checked in on Facebook for happy hour without inviting you? Nope. Just worried about surviving till happy hour. Stressed about losing 10 pounds before bathing suit season? There is no more bathing suit season. Plus, you’ll probable be in kick-ass shape from walking all day and swinging a heavy machete.

The point is, there is no more worrying about your kids grades, their college paths, their life choices. Your new parenting goals? Food, water, no bites. I can get behind that. Plus, no more stressing over your career, your mortgage, your retirement account. Congratulations. Your five-year plan just went out the window. You’re now working on a 24-hour plan with one goal: survive.

This sounds good to me. Because I’m at a point where my threshold for bullshit is microscopic and there’s so much bullshit. The things I worry about in a given day are so insignificant in light of what I’ve lost. But somehow I still have to worry about them. Because life goes on, with all its bullshit intact. Unless we fall into a zombie apocalypse. Fingers crossed.

zombie-horde-the-walking-dead

12-Week Lessons.

Today marks 12 weeks. I thought, perhaps, my next post would not be about my mom. Well, I am happy to say that this post, much like my life, is not all about losing my mom.

So here’s what I’ve learned in the last 12 weeks:

  1. I like lists. They require little cohesion and no organization at all.
  2. There is a very fine, at times imperceptible, line between “grieving” and “crazy.”
  3. You don’t really get it – not really – until it’s you.
  4. I’m stronger than I thought. I lost the one person I talked to more, shared more, listened to more, relied on more, leaned on more than any other person in the world. And I’m okay. Despite my previous concerns, I wasn’t swallowed by the hole she left in the world.
  5. I like cemeteries. You can cry all you want and no one looks at you twice. Cause you’re in a cemetery.
  6. Death is arbitrary. My mom wasn’t even two weeks past her 67th birthday, she had low blood pressure, low cholesterol, ate healthy, didn’t smoke, rarely drank, got all her mammograms, colonoscopies, physicals, etc., stayed active, and took her vitamins. And she was literally gone in a matter of seconds. Be healthy so that you can feel good while you’re here – but all the healthy living in the world isn’t going to grant you longevity if it isn’t in the cards.
  7. The dead apparently do not haunt by request. No matter how much you wish for a visit.
  8. Apparently I don’t need to share every thought that ever pops into my head with someone. I used to have someone I told everything to. Now, I probably share 50% of those thoughts. Which, I guess, means I have a lot of insignificant thoughts. Or just no one that finds significance in them.
  9. Even on dark days, wine makes me happy.
  10. Getting my eye makeup tattooed on a year and a half ago was a sound investment.

Time Flies Whether You’re Having Fun or Not.

Time Flies

I have come to realize that the saying, “time flies when you’re having fun” is inaccurate. It’s not untrue – time does fly when you’re having fun. But time still flies when you’re not. So I’m not calling the creator of that catchphrase a liar…I’m calling them sloppy based on their half-truth.

There are undoubtedly periods of time that do not fly. So maybe time flies unless you’re in an internment camp. Or time flies unless you’re at the DMV. Or time flies unless you’re reading Moby Dick. Or you’re in solitary confinement in a state penitentiary. Or stuck in traffic when you’re running late for court. Or sitting through a graduation commencement. This list is not exhaustive and I realize time is relative. You may love graduations. Or solitary confinement.

But, otherwise, time does fly. Regardless of whether you’re having a good time or not. I have noticed that the only days of the week I seem to notice are Fridays and Mondays. Fridays, in that I can’t believe how fast the week went by. And Mondays, in that I can’t believe the weekend went by even faster. So the last eight weeks have been a blur. And yet, it feels like it was yesterday. And I can honestly say I have had little to no fun at all. But time still flies.

This Post Is Not About My Mom.

That’s a total lie and, frankly, the title should have been a dead giveaway so if you fell for it, you really have no one to blame but yourself.

So while staring at the ceiling this morning at about 1 a.m., I thought of an analogy for the workings of my brain these days. On a side note, I’m not sure why I feel the need to keep coming up with analogies…it’s not as though people are baffled by my situation and are only able to comprehend through my clever analogies. That being said, you know you love them.

Okay, here it is. Prepare for enlightenment.

It’s like I’m in a movie theater. And there is a movie playing all the time, day and night, on a loop. And we’re talking IMAX screen and Dolby Digital 5.1 sound. And the movie is about losing her. And missing her. And about how I feel like half a person most of the time now. And about how I don’t know how to regrow the part of me that was her. Ouch, that got sad fast. You get the point. Moving on.

Movie

So, I live here now. In the theater. And when I’m having a conversation, or cooking, or watching TV, or reading, or driving, the movie never stops playing. And the wonderful people in my life talk to me about trivial things and make me laugh and I am distracted. As much as anyone would be…if they were in a theater with an IMAX screen and Dolby surround playing a movie that was a cross between Beaches, Steel Magnolias, Saving Private Ryan and the end of The Green Mile. But I love these distractions and do my best to tune out the movie. But the point, I guess, is that it’s always playing and I never actually leave the theater.

Eventually, I hope to get to the point where I don’t live here, but simply visit on holidays…and birthdays…and milestones.

But right now? The movie never stops. And I never leave the theater.

The More True-to-Life Stages of Grief.

Don’t worry. It gets sarcastic.

When I was 14, my mom lost her mother. My mom’s mom was her BFF, was only 63, and inexplicably died of a heart attack without a single warning sign. (I know! Right?) We were all close and I was sad to lose my grandma, but it paled in comparison to watching my mother suffer through such a debilitating loss. And then she proceeded to miss her mom every day for nearly 29 years. Until history effing repeated itself and started this whole messed up cycle again. What kind of bullshit is that? I would like to think that, had my mom had a choice in the matter, she would have adamantly rejected any scenario that would put me through what she went through. Yet here we are. And I’m kinda pissed.

What stage of grief is “anger” again? I’m guessing it falls somewhere between the “WTF?” stage and the “Well, that was a bunch of bullshit” stage. (Note: I have not properly researched the traditional stages of grief but I’m pretty sure mine could catch on.)

Anyway. I’ve also had darling and well-intentioned friends and family tell me that something good comes out of everything, no matter how bad. But my family was already close, I already appreciated every day and didn’t take people for granted (thanks to the aforementioned Grandma) and I was friggin’ strong enough already. Not sure I’ll ever see a silver lining to this shitty little cloud. We’ll call this the “Don’t give me any of that ‘personal growth’ crap” stage.

In other news, I think I’m training Steve not to use the word “need” with me because when he makes the mistake of asking me if “I need anything,” I inevitably answer “yeah, I *need* my mom.” And this leads to the “I should probably try to stop making the people around me uncomfortable” stage. I’m not to this stage yet.

I am, however, simultaneously in the “It’s 10 a.m. on a Saturday and that is clearly late enough for wine” stage and the “I swear to God, if I don’t stop crying, I’m going to sew my tear ducts closed” stage.

And this. This definitely has to be one of the stages. burrito of sadnessBecause Mexican food is always good.

#tweetstoheaven.

I was out with a good friend last night and she told me that after her cousin died when they were teenagers, she wrote him a letter and left it on his grave. The problem with that idea for me is that I’ve been to the cemetery and I’m pretty sure that’s not where my mom is hanging out. But the idea of sending a message out into the ether seemed oddly comforting – and they probably have internet up there (minus all the annoying advertisements and spam).

So, I may have finally found a use for my Twitter account  – aside from stalking celebrities. Not that I do that. That would be creepy. Anyway. I could send random tweets about the kind of nothing I used to share with my mom twice a day out into the ether and she could read them and then we could be all caught up on our discussions about nothing. Well, it makes sense to me. This is the way I see it going: tweetstoheaven 1tweetstoheaven 7tweetstoheaven 6 tweetstoheaven 5tweetstoheaven 8

These are just examples. It could work. And then it could catch on and become wildly popular and the Twitterverse will be overrun by people having conversations with dead people. Then I’ll have more to do on Twitter than checking to see if William Shatner has been fighting with any fans lately or whether Nathan Fillion is finally gonna reply to one of my tweets. Not that I tweet him. That would be sad. #celebritystalker.

“Baby It’s Cold Outside” (aka “The Christmas Date-Rape Song”).

Baby its Cold Outside

Because nothing says Merry Christmas like a little GHB. So this song is catchy and disconcerting at the same time. You’ve all heard it, right? It’s a duet between a girl making poor decisions and a guy who is apparently a follower of the philosophy that 50 “no’s” and a “yes” means “yes.” Let’s look at the lyrics:

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside”
I really can’t stay
(But baby, it’s cold outside)
I’ve got to go away (Yes, girl. Run.)
(But baby, it’s cold outside)

This evening has been
(Been hoping that you’d drop in)
So very nice
(I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice)

My mother will start to worry
(Beautiful, what’s your hurry?)
My father will be pacing the floor
(Listen to the fireplace roar)

So really I’d better scurry
(Beautiful, please don’t hurry)
But maybe just a half a drink more (Let the poor decision-making begin.)
(Put some records on while I pour)

The neighbors might think
(Baby, it’s bad out there)
Say, what’s in this drink? (DANGER, Will Robinson! Seriously?)
(No cabs to be had out there)

I wish I knew how
(Your eyes are like starlight now) (Undoubtedly from whatever you doped her with.)
To break this spell
(I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell)

I ought to say no, no, no, sir (See what I mean? 50 no’s and a yes?)
(Mind if I move in closer?) (Creeper.)
At least I’m gonna say that I tried
(What’s the sense in hurting my pride?)

I really can’t stay
(Baby, don’t hold out) (Getting creepier.)
Oh, but it’s cold outside

I simply must go
(But baby, it’s cold outside)
The answer is no (Seriously. Is anyone keeping count?)
(But baby, it’s cold outside)

This welcome has been
(How lucky that you dropped in)
So nice and warm
(Look out the window at that storm)

My sister will be suspicious
(Gosh, your lips look delicious)
My brother will be there at the door
(Waves upon a tropical shore)

My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious
(Ooh, your lips are delicious)
But maybe just a cigarette more
(Never such a blizzard before)

I’ve got to get home
(But baby, you’ll freeze out there) (Translated to: if you don’t spend the night with me, you’ll die.)
Say, lend me your coat (I have a feeling he isn’t gonna lend you a coat.)
(It’s up to your knees out there) (See?)

You’ve really been grand
(I thrill when you touch my hand)
But don’t you see
(How can you do this thing to me?)

There’s bound to be talk tomorrow
(Think of my life long sorrow) (Wow. Guilt trip much?)
At least there will be plenty implied
(If you caught pneumonia and died) (Once more, sleep with me or die.)

I really can’t stay
(Get over that old doubt)
Oh, but it’s cold outside

Yeah. Cheery little Christmas ditty. So what have we learned? (Aside from how creepy men in the 50’s were.)

50 No's and a Yes

Even at Christmastime, apparently. So have fun singing along with this song in the future and good luck not focusing on the fact that this guy kinda needs his ass kicked.

And to all a good night.

If It’s Good Enough for Jenny…

So, as I’ve mentioned, I’m a big Jenny Lawson (the Bloggess) fan. Jenny’s hilarious ramblings and questionable love for taxidermy always make me laugh and her occasional heart-warming, insightful posts always seem to be interjected just when we collectively need a little inspiration (or a kick in the ass).

Well, Jenny decided to play along with this thing going around the internet where you Google your first name plus the word “meme” and see what you get. And then she posted about it. And I thought it was pretty hilarious so I yes, I’m copying Jenny.

Here are my equally disturbing results:

53351650

Um. Thanks? For the nightmares.

54487478

Not sure why we need to make this about age, Ron.

b70c1b2c02cf6040c4236d516dd6f3118adb2f70691df9d8aa1d8335aa58eb42

Look at that adorable little demon-spawn. And this one doesn’t even have my name.

Who-the-fuck-ekfsnl

If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one.

images

I feel like this one is both a little judgy, but also sort of issuing a challenge. Thanks, Bill.

This was good – an exercise that’s both frightening and fun. And makes me think that people should probably have to submit to a breathalyzer before creating memes online.

They Forgot to Include ‘Zombie Apocalypse.’

I was reviewing radio contest rules today that included the most complete disclaimer regarding force majeure I’ve ever seen. Except for their glaring omission of “zombie apocalypse(s).” (I guess it wouldn’t be plural…one would probably take care of it.)

The Contest Entities are not responsible or liable to any entrant or winner … for failure to supply the prize or any part thereof, by reason of any acts of God, any action, regulation, order or request by any governmental or quasi-governmental entity (whether or not the action, regulations, order or request proves to be invalid), equipment failure, threatened terrorist acts, terrorist acts, air raid, blackout, act of public enemy, earthquake, volcanic eruption, war (declared or undeclared), fire, flood, epidemic, explosion, unusually severe weather, hurricane, embargo, labor dispute or strike (whether legal or illegal) labor or material shortage, transportation interruption of any kind, work slow-down, civil disturbance, insurrection, riot, or any other cause beyond the Contest Entities’ sole control.

Now, is that any ‘public enemy’ like Bin Laden or Kanye West? Or is that ‘Public Enemy,’ the rap group. Cause I would be pretty pissed if Flavor Flav interfered with my winnings.