Erin Waves At You

I look at the world. Very, very little of the world looks back.

Thursday, May 11

Pennies from Heaven?

Pennies are the devil. Why we still even use these vile things is beyond me. I hate them with a passion usually reserved for moose, rats, and people who bring small children to R-rated horror movies. I know a lot of people share my loathing for pennies. In fact, I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t spit at a penny, given the chance.

Pennies are not only extremely worthless; they are also disgusting. They smell like blood, turn stuff green, and, no disrespect intended, but that little picture of Ole ‘Onest Abe is just foolish, especially when compared with the new and improved TJ. Seriously, that’s one Father I’d like to Found.

I was sorting my coins today, as now I need to pay for both laundry and tolls (.60$, Maine? Are you kidding me? And, pray tell, why on earth do I have to pay $1.20 to get TO Portland from Saco, but only .60$ to get back? What the hell kind of math are you people operating with?) and also because I am obsessive and anal and like to sort things. Of course, the number of pennies I own far outweighs the number of any other coin of actual value. I sort of have an irrational dislike of nickels, but I’d rather have all the nickels in the world than one penny. (Who wouldn’t, really?)

So, like any other time I must deal in coinage, I’m going to sit on a cubic ton of pennies until I’m so cash-poor that I have to go feed them to CoinStar. That is pretty much always the most disappointing situation of all time; a trip to CoinStar. You cart in 35lbs of pennies, all excited that you can buy a twelver of Sam Adams and a pack of cigarettes AND put a few gallons of gas in the car, spend approximately the rest of your natural life feeding small handfuls of the hateful coins into the machine, and end up with a receipt announcing that you are free to go collect your $7.54 from the cashier.

And she ignores you when you tell her to make it seven-fifty even.

She gives you those goddamned pennies with a look of malevolent mirth. Because she is a bitch.


Saturday, April 29

TIDs. Zero BITs.

My sophomore year student ID card.

My future husband. He is preparing to play in the big game. The big game of Whatthehell?

Oh, puke.

Salt is the enemy of the people.

This is my brother. My monkey brother.

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You know what I do at midnight?

You better believe I do.

Thursday, March 30

I Had The Flu.

The kind where, when you get up out of bed, you throw up right on the floor.

Luckily, I recovered.

Friday, March 10

I have a tattoo!

I love it a very lot. It really wasn't painful- it just felt like she was pressing something somewhat sharp against me really hard, though the higher up on my wrist she went, the more it actually did hurt.

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I really love it.

Westminster Dog Show Pictures

God, I suck at blogging.

I went to the first day of Westminster, mainly to see the Standards being groomed. For an event where chalk and hairspray are discouraged at best, there seemed to be an awful lot of that stuff.

This is Justin. He was shown by the handler who showed Happy's dad, Lloyd, for all but his final major. Justin went Best of Op in the breed ring, and, though he looked very tuckered in the early evening, one could tell that he was excited about his upcoming retirement.
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Here are some white Standards being prepped for the breed ring:
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Here is a very sweet-faced Clumber Spaniel, being groomed for the Jr. Handling class (Sporting wasn't held that day, but Jr. Handlers can show any doggie.)
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Here is a Great Pyr being chalked like there's no tomorrow (chalk is used to bring out the white in a dog's coat or skin):
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The Great Pyr breed ring:
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A really nice-looking Komondor being "groomed." I think "groomed" in this case means "looked at, because we spent the last 3 years growing this coat out, and now there's not much work that needs to be done." I could be wrong, but it didn't look like they were messing with it too much:
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The Komondor breed ring- apparently, if you have all the time in the world on your hands, it would be a good breed to show, as there are very few ever being shown (though, that makes it a lot harder to finish a dog's championship quickly and easily, as you have to travel to shows where there are other Koms):
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A smiley Portugese Water Dog (cousin to the Standard) and his equally smiley person:
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A sleepy Saint:
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A Swiss Mt. Dog demoing cart-pulling:
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A super athletic Aussie doing really neat Frisbee tricks:
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It was really tiring and a long day, topped off by my placement of a bottle of Diet Coke with a loose cap in my purse, and totally soaking my digital camera and ipod. I just got me new camera, and it is very awesome. I'm waiting on the ipod.

Sunday, December 4

Nestor the Christmas Mule

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Wednesday, November 30

Back by popular demand...


Hi, there! How you doin'? Looking goood!


I don't really have anything funny to say anymore, though I have a really good story about how the other day, when I was washing the dishes... the um, spoon that was dirty got, well, clean?

I got nothing.

Oh! Wait! I'm learning magic! That's exciting news to everyone who is me!

Watching Penn & Teller's "Bullshit" show on Showtime is what inspired me. (Also I love them for being libertarians, but that's another post for another day.) I think they're a hoot, and I like the idea of knowing stuff that other people don't (though I will share my vast store of trivia with anyone at the drop of a hat- for example, the idea of a "Mad Hatter" came from the fact that, due to the mercury used in olde-tyme haberdashery, hatters would often lose their bloomin' minds!)

So far I am learning many a wonderous card trick. Greg has gone from billing me as, "Erin: The World's Worst Magician," to saying, "That one was pretty good." Also I am learning mentalism, which is the art of tricking people into thinking you can read their minds reading minds. Also I can sort of levitate.

In other news, I love Christmas. I really do. Greg is a Scrinch, which, of course, is a Grinch and a Scrooge rolled up into one surly unpleasant ball. I love the carols and the decorations and the stores and the shopping and the Christmas shows and movies. I really love it all. He claims that I am a huge sucker for buying into the media propagnada. I claim that being raised by a staunch atheist with no traditions is child abuse, but I guess that's just me.

Tuesday, October 25

Here's What Congress Should Do:

Instead of worrying about stupid unimportant stuff like steriod use in major league baseball and asking Supreme Court nominees questions, Congress needs to get on the ball and pass this here law:

In the even of the untimely cancellation of any and all wicked awesome television programs, the creators, producers, and actors are bound to complete one final 2-hour episode wrapping everything up so that I don't have to live the remainder of my life wondering just what in the hell was going on in HBO's 'Carnivale.' Yes, I went into watching all 12 episodes on DVD this week knowing that there'd be no resolution to an incredibly screwed-up show, but I still think I, and the brave men and women behind 'Carnivale' all deserve a little bit of a wrap-up. I don't care if it's sort of half-assed or even just the writers talking to the camera saying, "So then Ben was going to face off against Brother Justin and it was going to be totally awesome. Also Sofie was going to mind-meld with that lizard guy, and Samson was going to be eaten by a gorrilla."

I'm just asking for a little consideration here, Congress.