Sunday, September 21, 2008

Egads, no!

Walking out of Wegman's the other day, I spotted a pregnant woman, and it hit me: I miss being pregnant. There, I said it. I miss the swollen belly, the great hair days and the baby wiggling inside of me. Considering that I gave birth only eight months ago and had the pregnancy from hell (not to mention a colicky newborn), I'm a bit horrified with myself.

Thank the good lord for Mirena.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

A Funny Thing Happened At Work Today...

Today at work, one coworker remarked to another that she has a massive collection of post-its, which he called "posties." Another coworker asked, "Did you just say 'pasties'?" To which he replied no... then asked what pasties were. I was elected to explain that one. I had to explain to someone NINE YEARS OLDER than myself what pasties are.

The sad part: this isn't the first time that I've been the bearer of this kind of enlightenment.

This reminds me of two incidents with another friend of mine. A classmate and I were discussing Henry Rollins and his theory that this generation is going to be more hardcore than both our parents and our children; my friend asked, "What do you mean, hardcore? What does that mean?" At that point, he was my still my teacher, and explaining "hardcore" to your teacher -- even if you're not repressed and have a friendly rapport with this person -- is admittedly awkward because of the first thing that jumps into your head: porn. Let's be honest, we're all thinking it. Having that in your head while trying to explain the meaning of a new word is a bit daunting, as you want to simultaneously giggle and be serious. And yes, I did hold back on saying, "It's kind of like porn..."

The next incident was even funnier. My hetero life partner Theresa (T for short), my friend (the hardcore one) and I went out for dessert one afternoon. On the menu at this event: T and I had debated for a solid week if we should tell our friend about a Freudian slip that he made a good five months prior. This slip was probably the funniest one I've ever heard: he meant to say, "Did he mean that literally or rhetorically?" What actually came out was, "Did he mean that cliterally or clitorically?" To compound matters, he said this --- you guessed it -- while teaching a group of grad students. Three people, myself and T included, were the only ones to pick up on this (let me tell you, that is certainly one way to snap a bored girl to attention -- "Wait a sec, he said what?"). Being the only ones that heard it, we debated whether or not we should tell him. It was amusing, but we didn't want history to repeat itself. T decided to be the one to break the news. After five minutes of, "You said, um... well, um... you know, um... it's just... um..." I broke down and told him, "Oh, Jesus, you said 'cliterally.'" To which he replied, "No, I didn't... Oh, I did. Oh, great, don't tell me that -- now I'm going to say it again!"

Once again, Erin spreads joy, knowledge and innuendo to her friends and neighbors.

All of this makes me ponder as to why I'm the chosen one that wind up explaining this stuff. Should I have been a sex ed teacher? Really, I'm starting to wonder. Let's review: I've explained the terms "hardcore" and "pasty", and I've also told someone that he made the Freudian slip that pretty much sent Freud tumbling down the stairs to break his ankle. I'm beginning to wonder....

What's In a Name?

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator:

Monday, September 15, 2008

Doing My Duty

So I'm being called in for jury duty as of next week. This should be entertaining, as the last time that I went, I knew the defendant (cop who was busted for feeling up women during traffic stops -- doesn't shock me, as the asshole told my ex while I was standing right next to him that he had managed to land a great piece of ass. SWELL guy -- totally respected women.). I was supposed to go last year, but as I was heavily pregnant, I was able to get out of it.

On one hand, I'd like to serve. Now that I have a job that will pay me for being out (as opposed to last year, when I was heavily pregnant and working as a contractor), this could be exciting. We always talk about wanting to put the bad guys away, and yet no one wants to actually do the work. Likewise, everyone should get a fair trial -- we're not all there to blindly convict.

Then again, this could just be a product of me watching entirely too much Law and Order...

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Huzzah for Science!

I would fucking laugh if this provided a mathematical equation that disproved the existence of god ala Smart Homer in The Simpsons:

In all seriousness, though, this is incredibly exciting. Scientists are creating the same conditions as the Big Bang Theory to see what will happen, and to gain knowledge as to how the universe was formed -- that is FANTASTIC! Given, there's always the threat that something could go wrong and a black hole could be opened up that would turn our planet inside out (I can see it now: Jesus standing there going, "That... was... AWESOME!" and God rolling his eyes behind him, shaking his head), but hey, no guts, no glory. The possibilities are mind-blowing. We could be looking at different dimensions, unraveling equations that we couldn't solve before, creating life on a whole new level. This is an amazing time right now.

Damn, I need to go punch the air.

Saturday, September 6, 2008


Today, my 87-year-old grandmother looked at my back and neck and noticed that I have four visible tattoos. She commented, "Oh, wow, I never knew that you had all those tattoos!"

There's just one problem: she's known about all of them from the time I got each one.

It's sad to think that grandma's getting older, but nothing lasts forever.

Monday, September 1, 2008

A Night at the Movies

My husband and I hit the Dryden Theatre last night to watch Grindhouse. Anyone who knows me knows that I love horror, especially the campy variety. There's something fantastic about the over-the-top gore and dialog that speaks to me.

One of the great things about seeing something at the Dryden: the previews. Last night, they showed some previews from bad B-movies of the 70s. My personal favorite was one for a film called The Uncanny. Plot in a nutshell: evil cats try to kill everyone. I laughed hysterically at this trailer. It was craptacular -- cats whining and hissing, and poor actors trying to look afraid (judging by some of these people, they looked as though they had barely mustered a "C" in their drama courses). Worse yet, it looked as though the cats attacking in the film were the product of a prop master throwing the creature at something. I can hear the director right now: "Okay, Susie, so you're scared, yeah, and this cat comes flying at you all whiskers and claws. Dave's going to throw him at you. Try your best to act surprised."

Some of the other highlights from the previews:
Devil Times Five -- five evil children are out to destroy your neighborhood, one pretty college coed and pruny-looking old woman at a time.
Blood Beach -- the sand is going to eat you!
The Pack -- they used to be your pets until you couldn't take care of them anymore and abandoned them in the woods; now they want to gnaw your face off. Go figure.
Jennifer -- a cheap imitation of Carrie, complete with a Robert Reed look-alike (the seventies years of The Brady Bunch, with the bad afro-perm) and horrific dialog ("The rich are always right!")

Then there was the movie itself. I have to admit that Grindhouse is one of my favorites from the past few years, if only because it's not the same drivel that studios try to push down everyone's throats. The film's tongue is firmly in its cheek. Besides, how can you not like the two films and the fake trailers? (On a side note, I would be the first person in line to go see Machete if someone made it.) Let's break it down:

Planet Terror -- Rose McGowan as a one-legged go-go dancer named Cherry Darling fighting zombies -- genius! The fact that the film jumps from the big love scene to a missing reel, and then suddenly the bar that everyone's gathered at is on fire! Naveen Andrews collecting testicles! Josh Brolin covered in goo! And then, the best yet, Freddy Rodriguez playing an infamous character whose back story is explained only on the missing reel. I fucking love it.
Death Proof -- Zoe Bell is the bomb. I take that back: Zoe Bell is the bomb diggity. Ditto to Kurt Russell. The car crashes/chases are fantastic. We need more movies like this. My only complaint: Sydney Poitier needed to put some shoes on. I had seen the movie before, but I still managed to get completely skeeved out by the fact that she was walking around a bar shoeless. Ever heard of warts, sweetie?

Overall, it was a wonderful experience, with the exception of one thing: the people behind me. Not noisy, but smelly. I'm all for being a bohemian, but dammit, soap can be made by hand -- I don't need to smell your funk all night. So if you're reading this, please, take heart: WASH UP!