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OK, so let me get you up to speed: I had a cat once, Sammy. Two years and 16 stitches later, Sammy is the reason I have three eye brows. (NOTE: Sammy did sleep in my bed after I got home from the hospital that night because, you know…“it wasn’t his fault”, but goddamn was that cat an asshole). It took another 4 years of me crying to my parents to NOT give Sammy away (I never said I wasn’t crazy) and then ultimately Sammy LITERALLY peeing on my mom in her own bed for my mom to “bring Sam to a farm” (tho to this day she will never admit she wished him ill will). I was devastated, obviously. Now I’ve got scars and no cat to prove my story. But anyways, after this harrowing experience I’ve abstained from cats. Cats are selfish, manipulative, tricky, sly assholes (nothing like my sweetheart puppy girl TessieMay). So lets get up to present day – I have this boyfriend who is obsessed with cats (I know, I know…but he has other great qualities, ok?), anyways, turns out I love him more than I hate cats….enter Lucielle Ball.
Until next time…meow
This weekend I was B.U.S.Y. It all started Friday when Paul escaped from his cage – again. We captured him, THANK GOD – and now he is in solitary confinement with his cage taped shut until he can learn how to better behave. Sorry buddy, but that’s what happens when you can’t follow the rules.
Fast forward to Saturday and Sunday, which really did feel like was in double time. My boyfriend, mom and dad all worked their butts off to scrape down the paint on the front of my house (thank you, thank you, thank you!!!). The paint was, in my mom’s words, “alligatoring” (not sure that’s really a word, but the woman gets things done so she can make up as many words as she wants) like crazy, and had about a billion layers of paint either stuck on really really good, or completely flaking off. Needless to say, was absolutely brutal to take off in the 85-90 degree heat and sun! We got the majority of the scraping off on Saturday and Sunday we were able to prime by Sunday afteroon. With only that done, and still needing to actually put the real paint on, it already looks a million times better!
After we finished that project for the day on Sunday, for some ingenious reason I decided it would be a good idea to continue with a million yard chores. I transplanted some monster Hostas, weeded my gardens, put down the rest of the mulch, sprayed my patio with weed killer, and just for the fun of it, cleaned out my garage. While I’m thrilled that I crossed so many things off my never-ending list of busywork, you can only imagine that I was exhausted by the end. (So exhausted, in fact, that I cracked a beer and never even took one sip of it – and if you know me, that’s out of the norm.)
Now for the reason of this post: So after I finished I have a bunch of things at the road for Trash Day, which is Monday. I had a couple tube TVs out there, the old vanity mirrors from my bathrooms, some leave bags and my regular garbage. About 30 feet away, I have my car parked, and next to my car on the curb, leaning up against my car – not visible from the street unless you’re really looking, and clearly not with my pile of trash I have 3-4 bags of empty bottles and cans, a couple boxes of bottles and cans and a big plastic garbage can full of, you guessed it, bottles and cans. I’m guessing this could easily be around 500 bottles and can as it was the past 6-8 months of bottles and cans from me and my roommates and the parties we’ve thrown.
Anyways, I’m in my house and something catches my eye. Its an old beat up pick up truck with a bunch of sh*t in the back. I glance out the window and see if this person is taking one of my TVs or vanities – hey, you know “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”. To my disbelief, this stranger was actually parked in front of my trash, but walking over to my car and stealing all my recyclables. In fact, by the time I got to my door she already had all the bags in her truck and had her grubby hands on the (non-disposable) garbage can as though she was going to throw that in the back of her truck too! I don’t know if it was the heat, my exhaustion or my pure disbelief of what was going on, but the whole situation instantly infuriated me. Enough, in fact, that I stooped down to her WT level and opened my front door and yelled at her. I’m sorry, petty as it may be, I worked my ass off all weekend – I’m at least going to get $25 for it.
Listen, I’m the queen of up-cycling. I have absolutely no shame when it comes to taking things off people’s front yards. Truth be told I have gotten tons of things from outdoor furniture, to kitchen table chairs, to mirrors, to a dresser and even a nice desk that I’ve gotten completely for free. The difference, however, is that these items either had a sign that said “FREE” or if I was unsure, I knocked on the owner’s door and asked (hey, I said I have no shame), unlike this scoundrel. Let this be a lesson to you all…unless you are absolutely certain that they are being given away, or don’t care if some crazy lady comes out and yells at you – don’t take things that aren’t yours.
Peace, Love & Yardwork xo!
A few weeks ago, I enthusiastically expanded my family. #blessed. On this specific day, I spent the first half of the morning playing on a playscape with a 4 year old and 2 year old, and the second half of the morning watching the most adorable 2 year old laugh and holding a newborn. Needless to say, by the time we were eating lunch, the only thing I could think about is the fact that there is no way I could live my life another day without something cute to play with at my own house. So, I took the necessary measures and $14 and 2 hours later, meet Paul McNibbler.
Immediately after Paul got home, I knew he was the perfect fit. First off, we have a lot of the same hobbies.
Paul, like me, loves chips. It’s literally his most favorite snack. He tries to save some for later (don’t we all) by putting them in his food bowl when he’s done, but that never lasts long. You know what they say – once you pop, the fun don’t stop. And once he’s done snacking he licks his teeny tiny little fingers. I. die. everytime. We’re (me and Paul, that is) trying to lay off the chips, though, because he’s really started to pack on the grams and I’m starting to get concerned about him fitting through his tunnels.
He also loves running. In fact, his pure athleticism has inspired me to lace up my old kicks and get back out there. My fear, however, is that the combination of his constant carbo-loading and cardio-training has not only increased his curiosity about my homes’ nooks and crannies – specifically the nook of the couch and the cranny of everything inside the couch – but is also giving him olympic-level training.
Sweet Paul has already escaped TWICE. I will admit that the first time he got loose there is a possibility that it may have been because I left his cage open (jury is still out on that one), but this last time…it was really a doozy. Paul escaped sometime after 10PM on Friday from a cage that looked completely closed. By the time I realized his absence it was Saturday morning and I knew I wouldn’t be able to find him until Sunday because he doesnt normally get up until 8PM and I would be out at a concert by then (priorities). When i got home from the concert I put his cage on the floor and opened the door and put a chip (what else!?) in there. I guess I just figured that after a while he’d want to go home, and once he was home and saw his favorite treat he’d want to snack on it in bed with his eyes closed like I do and then go right to sleep…i mean….he’d have the decency to just stay there. I was wrong. Sunday morning comes and the chip is gone; unfortunately, still is the hamster. What a little rascal. So now I know this rodent is just playing me…but at least I now know he’s still kickin around somewhere.
Later in the day I’m watching TV when I hear something – yep, it was Paul…inside my couch. So I do what anyone would do, I flip the couch over and rip the lining of the bottom of the couch – perfectly logical. perfectly efficient. After all, I have been without Paul now for approximately 36 hours, which in hamster time is about 3 months – let’s be realistic people, he’s not going to live forever and I need to make sure I am able to spend the best years of his life w him. I got my wits about me and did the only thing i knew how – bribe him with food. 1 cheese-it and 2 lightly salted lays later (He was so cute for the first cheese-it and chip that I couldn’t get it together quick enough to capture him) I was able to lure him out of the depths of my sofa. I gave him a long talking to about how misbehaved he was and let him know that next time his punishment wouldn’t be so lenient.
There’s so many more adventures to share with you, but not today. Today I’m exhausted. No one ever told me how hard this parenting gig really got.
Stay tuned for more adventures with Paul and other random thoughts.
Peace, Love and Hamsters! xo
Dear teenage boy who literally stopped driving today to tell me I’m beautiful while I was out for my run,
Thank you. You made my whole day.
☮xo – Erin
PS- driving by a second time and giving me a thumbs up was a nice touch. 😉
So if you ask me, or one of my really good friends at work, there are two kinds of people in this world. People who love Starbucks, and People shouldn’t be allowed to talk to us people who love Starbucks. I know this statement may sound a little bit aggressive, but this is struggle of the world we live in. And, a true Starbucks lover not only loves Starbucks, but also hates Dunkin Donuts. Now I don’t want to hear any mumbo-jumbo about how DD is so much cheaper or how Starbucks is so much more pretentious because it’s just not true-so stop it.
I feel like I can say things like this because my first job, which was one of my favorite jobs ever, was working at DD. I was seriously so good at that shit. Light and sweet, no problem. Black one sweet and low, you got. So I know. I see what goes on, and I know how their burnt coffee tastes. Really, it’s insulting to your taste buds. I’d drink sitting-out-all-day-at-a-random-rest-stop-gas-station-coffee before I pulled into Dunkin. Erin does not run on Dunkin.
To really drill in my point, there as this one day, I did stop at DD on my way to work. I was at a low point. Really low. In fact, I also got a bacon, egg and cheese on a croissant, and hash browns, and the fat person inside of me gobbled that shit down and got crumbs and ketchup everywhere. Like I said, it was a low; I’m not proud. By the time I got to work I was so regretful, and quite frankly, embarrassed by this lapse in judgement I picked up multiple Starbucks coffee cups off the floor of my car and strongly considered dumping my Dunkin brew in so no one would see me this way. I couldn’t find one that I trusted enough to drink out of again, so I did what I had to do and slinked into work with my Dunkin Donuts coffee and pretended everything was normal. No joke, my coworker noted this cup on my desk and came up to me later in the day an inquired on my mental and physical health. <–this seriously happened.
Anyways, this past weekend, I went to Newport, and after a fantastic Crawfish Boil (aka a day that consisted of eating and drinking heavily) and I knew the only way I would get home would be to stop at Starbucks. So I went to Starbucks in downtown – no parking spots, fantastic. So I did what any sane person would do. I parked illegally and ran inside. OF COURSE the line was out the door (why wouldn’t it be, we are talking about Starbucks), but I waited. Sometimes a good coffee is worth risking that your car is going to be towed. After being in line 20 minutes, I made another extremely rational decision: I got not one, but two coffees. A cold one to suck down immediately, and a hot one to enjoy on my ride home. My only mistake was not buying larger coffees, or buying more coffees and asking some hipster sitting at table if they’d help me lug them all to my car. When I got back outside, my car was still there, with no ticket on it. The world was on my side that day.
I bought my first “new” car a few years ago and I’m pretty much obsessed with it. My sister openly makes fun of it and says it’s ugly and looks like a spaceship, but I don’t really care because this spaceship gets the job done. I bought a Honda Fit, and it’s amazing. I can fold the seats down and toss my dogs in there without getting fur on the seats, I can fold the seats up and 4-5 Rubbermaid bins in the back seat, I can put my bike in the back without having to remove the front wheel, and best of all I get about 40 miles to the gallon. For me, it’s great. Then a few a weeks ago, all my walls came crashing down around me. I was going about my business, I was doing fine (Jewel reference J), and a coworkers informs me that I’m driving what was rated the most unsafe car of the year. Great. Thanks for ruining my day, pal.
So I do what any girl would do in this situation – I called my dad. I guess I thought maybe he would sympathize with his eldest child and, you know, want me to be safe and not die. I thought he’d, I don’t know, give me his car or buy me a big (safe) Hummer or something. I thought wrong. “Are you seriously concerned with this?” he asks me…uh yea I’m concerned, a person with my luck (and by luck, I mean driving record) should not be driving around in a death box. “What, are you thinking about buying a new car or something?” he follows up with. Well, the thought crossed my mind!! “Just don’t get into an accident”. Great. Thanks for the advice pops. Before you said that getting into an accident was on the to-do list, but I’ll cross it off now. I proceed to tell him why my car was so unsafe and how if get into an accident apparently the steering panel is going to come into my car and smash my legs into a million little pieces. “I’m a runner dad, I can’t live my life from a wheelchair. I’ll DIE!”. It was at that point that he responded “Erin, you are ridiculous”. And hung up on me.
Nice to know I have a strong support system.
Have you ever met someone so dumb that you are literally embarrassed to be be sharing a country with them? I had an experience recently that really made me wonder about people.
After a couple years of going without, I decided to get cable, and after about a month of having cable in my living room and becoming completely addicted, I decided to go for the gold and add cable to my bedroom as well. Now this shouldn’t have been an issue as a cable line was already run in my bedroom and a tv in my basement, but unfortunately it wasn’t working. So I called Cox Communications to see if I could get some over-the-phone help. The first girl I talked to was not part of their tech team, but tried to assist me so I wouldn’t have to sit on hold. Although she was unsuccessful, she was very nice and I found our conversation quite pleasant. The next person I talked to really made me think twice about my fellow Americans. For lack of a better way to get across how utterly retarded this woman was, I’m just going to give you a play by play of our conversation:
Me: Hi, I’m having some problems getting my cable to work, can you help me?
Cox Woman (CW): I’ll try. Whats the phone number on your account?
CW: I’m sorry that number doesn’t come up.
Me: Can you look me up by my address?
CW: What is your address?
Me: (tell her my address), Street, City, Connecticut.
CW: Do you mean Rhode Island?
Me: No, Connecticut.
CW: I don’t see Connecticut on my list. Are you sure you don’t mean Rhode Island?
Me: No, I definitely live in Connecticut.
CW: Hmm…I’m not sure…pause…Connecticut? Where is that? Is it near Ohio?
Me: Are you serious?
Me: Connecticut is on the East Coast….It’s part of New England…..It’s bordered by MA, RI, and NY….
I was so completely dumbfounded by this conversation I literally told her I would call back another time. I mean seriously, do you really think she would be able to help me with, well, anything?! The woman doesn’t even know that CT is a state! Welp, you can’t win ’em all, hopefully she’s beautiful because no one’s gonna marry this chick for her brains!!
Typically throughout the spring and summer I spend many a weekend morning up early to run in races. Some of them are for fun, and some of them are for causes. This past weekend I did a race much different than one I’ve ever participated in before called the Fight For Air Climb. The Fight for Air Climb is a unique type of race that took place in downtown Hartford at City Place. Its not a road race or a trail run, but rather a “vertical race” where we ran up 34 flights of stairs at City Place. A good friend asked me to do this with them and I was was intregued, partially because I have never run in a “stair race” before, but mostly because the money raised goes to the American Lung Association, which is an amazing organization that works to save lives by improving lung health and preventing lung diseases, like asthma, emphysema and lung cancer to name just a few. This is something close to my heart as my mother lost her mother to lung cancer years before I was even born and I currently have other family members suffering from the same disease. No one should have to struggle to breathe, something that most of us can do so easily and naturally.
The race itself was…interesting…to say the least. There was a few hundred participants, all raising at least $100, but some over $1,000 for the American Lung Association. How it works was that everyone lines up and every 20 seconds a person starts up the stairs – this minimizes the “stampede” effect. I thought, since I work out frequently and am in pretty good physical healthy, that this would be easy. I mean really, whats 34 flights of stairs?! (That’s totally obnoxious to say, right? Don’t worry, I “got mine”). The stair climbing portion, was in fact easy…What was not easy was breathing.
I’m going to say this in the nicest way I possibly can…whoever thought that having hundreds of people tramp up 30+ flights of stairs in a completely 100% enclosed area with absolutely ZERO ventilation is an absolute idiot. No, seriously. If I knew who the person was that made this decision I’d tell them to their face. My legs were fine, but for about 10 hours after the race my throat and lungs burned with every breath I took. I literally had that irony-blood taste in my mouth for the remainder of the day (I finished the race before 10AM), and consequently 3 days later I’m still coughing so badly I’m literally hacking things up. Its not pretty. I’m sorry for the detailed description, but its the only way to really paint a picture for you! Apparently this is “how it feels to have lung disease”. I’m sorry, but I really don’t think it benefits anyone to make lung disease more prominent. I thought we were trying to raise money to prevent lung disease, not spread it!!
Though the actual race has passed, I still have a few more weeks to collect donations. If you’d like to support the American Lung Association (or my horrific experience this past weekend), please click HERE and click on the “make a gift” link underneath the thermometer. I’m sure just about everyone knows someone suffering from a lung disease, no matter how big or small it is, and any donation to this amazing cause (even if it’s just a few bucks) will really add up and help make a difference!