In case you are feeling lost and need some friendly life advice, today is your lucky day.
Life lessons to think about this week:
1. Never attempt to juggle 4 bottles of wine unless you are a trained circus clown. With out the proper technique, you will inevitably drop and crash a minimum of 1 bottle onto the street, turning the neighborhood dogs and squirrels into raging alcoholics.
2. There is nothing less entertaining than watching children attempt to run a full mile. If you find yourself in this position of boredom, it is crucial that you find the nearest bottle of wine and start a " tasting". If tasting to you means drinking a full bottle before 11 am, so be it.
3. Every girl deserves a friend who will offer to shave his head every Wednesday, just so she can touch his baldness. In return though, you may have to pick ticks of his dog.
4. Running in 5K races is a great way to keep yourself in shape. However, if you choose to drink wine in leu of stretching, you will experience a great deal of difficulty removing yourself from the couch the next morning.
5. If you are going to send a friend a text that says " eat lunch with me or I will release my ant farm into your bed and spit in your honey nut cheerios. The choice is yours,let me know what you decide."- make sure you actually text it to your friend...and not your roommates brother...who you have only met once.
6. It turns out that boys are good for more than eye candy. They are also remarkable at changing the lightbulbs in my kitchen.
7. If you feel the need to tell a stranger that your roommates are actually your identical triplets, it is best if they are not around. The story will quickly be proven to be false when said stranger can clearly see that you are not identical in the least.
- professional freakshow
Showing posts with label Baldness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Baldness. Show all posts
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Monday, October 4, 2010
Life Lesson Monday
I am a firm believer that there are lessons to be learned in almost every situation. My roommate, Kate, and I often review the weekend’s events in the form of life lessons and I think that through this blog I would also like to occasionally share these words of wisdom. I think that this should be a weekly event and since today happens to be a Monday, I shall declare every Monday as the day of life lessons.
Learn with me:
1. There is no such thing as a problem that can not be fixed with a glass or three of wine and a chocolate chip cookie.
2. Everything is more fun when I am surrounded by friends and family who not only refrain from judging my sometimes eccentric personality, but are able to celebrate my oddities.
3. Justin Timberlake has a bit of a stutter. He does not have the same effect on my fluttering heart that he did when I was 13 years old with a face of acne and a mouth of metal.
4. I have no business drinking caffeine. This is actually not a new lesson, but a lesson that I relearned this week. 1 cup of coffee= Erin bouncing up and down in the rental car.
5. If you take a tour of Mark Twain’s house at 3:30 on a Tuesday afternoon, you will be the only person there without a cane and AARP card.
6. One should never pass up the opportunity to touch a bald man’s head. It is simply incredible.
Learn with me:
1. There is no such thing as a problem that can not be fixed with a glass or three of wine and a chocolate chip cookie.
2. Everything is more fun when I am surrounded by friends and family who not only refrain from judging my sometimes eccentric personality, but are able to celebrate my oddities.
3. Justin Timberlake has a bit of a stutter. He does not have the same effect on my fluttering heart that he did when I was 13 years old with a face of acne and a mouth of metal.
4. I have no business drinking caffeine. This is actually not a new lesson, but a lesson that I relearned this week. 1 cup of coffee= Erin bouncing up and down in the rental car.
5. If you take a tour of Mark Twain’s house at 3:30 on a Tuesday afternoon, you will be the only person there without a cane and AARP card.
6. One should never pass up the opportunity to touch a bald man’s head. It is simply incredible.
The giant and the frogs
This weekend I succeeded in my mission to touch a bald man’s head and make it look like an accident. I have decided to grant myself double points of awesomeness due solely to the fact that my bald prey was nearly 7 feet tall; naturally making it difficult for me to swipe his baldness without a running leap. I believe that the extreme levels of skill and determination that were needed for such a challenging task deserve recognition and I would be lying if I reported that I am anything less than brilliant.
Saturday evening started out like any other Saturday evening. I had been out of town for 2 weeks and after spending 14 days alone in hotel rooms, I was more than ready to misbehave in Lynchburg. My flock and I decided to swing by our favorite bar before spreading our wings and trying a new club downtown that is typically a waterhole for strange locals and serves as a great venue to catch up on some quality people watching. This particular club also often displays videos of mating frogs on the dance floor so it is difficult not to be entertained.
After a few hours of dancing and frog porn viewing, the flock collectively decided that it was time to migrate back to the nest for some sleep and a light snack. As I waited for the tender of the bar to retrieve me my bill, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful bald giant. If he had been of average height, I may have been able to simply gather my belongings and find my way to the exit. Unforunately, his extreme height acted as a magnet that attracted my recent obsession with touching hairless heads. I couldn’t help myself and before I knew it I was standing next to him and plotting my attack.
As I opened my mouth to initiate a conversation, the giant looks at me, smiles, and says “ I’m 6-11 and no.. I do not play basketball”. That was the moment that I fell in love. He was tall, bald, and apparently some sort of mind reader. Absolutely amazing.
Unfortunately, I fell out of love as quickly as I fell into it when he began to talk about his ex-wife and children. I must say that I was disappointed however by removing all romantic intensions from the situation, I was able to focus all of my energy towards my original quest to touch is bald head.
After what felt like hours of forced small talk, my brilliance leveled to the surface and I was ready to attack. I knew that the first order of business was to get the giant closer to my own height so I staged a graceless mishap and dropped my clutch at my feet. I quickly apologized for being so clumsy and pretended to be greatly concerned that my cloth bag had somehow damaged his feet with its great fall. I then acted as if I was making a valid effort to pick my bag up off the floor. After 2 fake attempts, I asked the giant if he would be willing to reach it for me, fabricating an excuse about my bad knees.
Was this a lie? Yes. Am I proud of it? Only a little. As the saying says though, desperate times call for desperate measures and I think that this situation definitely applies. Mr. Clean and his bald head had escaped my fingertips on the airplane and I couldn’t let this giant get away. I am no quitter.
As he so kindly bent down to hand me my bag, I made believe that my roommate, Ashley, had called my name behind us. I spun my body around with great dexterity and accidently graced my fingertips across his smooth and shiny head.
It was even greater than I had anticipated. Although I did not have the time allowance or confidence to get a good grip and make his skin wrinkle, the brief swipe was well worth the plotting and struggle.
Life. Is. Complete.
Saturday evening started out like any other Saturday evening. I had been out of town for 2 weeks and after spending 14 days alone in hotel rooms, I was more than ready to misbehave in Lynchburg. My flock and I decided to swing by our favorite bar before spreading our wings and trying a new club downtown that is typically a waterhole for strange locals and serves as a great venue to catch up on some quality people watching. This particular club also often displays videos of mating frogs on the dance floor so it is difficult not to be entertained.
After a few hours of dancing and frog porn viewing, the flock collectively decided that it was time to migrate back to the nest for some sleep and a light snack. As I waited for the tender of the bar to retrieve me my bill, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful bald giant. If he had been of average height, I may have been able to simply gather my belongings and find my way to the exit. Unforunately, his extreme height acted as a magnet that attracted my recent obsession with touching hairless heads. I couldn’t help myself and before I knew it I was standing next to him and plotting my attack.
As I opened my mouth to initiate a conversation, the giant looks at me, smiles, and says “ I’m 6-11 and no.. I do not play basketball”. That was the moment that I fell in love. He was tall, bald, and apparently some sort of mind reader. Absolutely amazing.
Unfortunately, I fell out of love as quickly as I fell into it when he began to talk about his ex-wife and children. I must say that I was disappointed however by removing all romantic intensions from the situation, I was able to focus all of my energy towards my original quest to touch is bald head.
After what felt like hours of forced small talk, my brilliance leveled to the surface and I was ready to attack. I knew that the first order of business was to get the giant closer to my own height so I staged a graceless mishap and dropped my clutch at my feet. I quickly apologized for being so clumsy and pretended to be greatly concerned that my cloth bag had somehow damaged his feet with its great fall. I then acted as if I was making a valid effort to pick my bag up off the floor. After 2 fake attempts, I asked the giant if he would be willing to reach it for me, fabricating an excuse about my bad knees.
Was this a lie? Yes. Am I proud of it? Only a little. As the saying says though, desperate times call for desperate measures and I think that this situation definitely applies. Mr. Clean and his bald head had escaped my fingertips on the airplane and I couldn’t let this giant get away. I am no quitter.
As he so kindly bent down to hand me my bag, I made believe that my roommate, Ashley, had called my name behind us. I spun my body around with great dexterity and accidently graced my fingertips across his smooth and shiny head.
It was even greater than I had anticipated. Although I did not have the time allowance or confidence to get a good grip and make his skin wrinkle, the brief swipe was well worth the plotting and struggle.
Life. Is. Complete.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Victory!
There is an awkward convention at the Philly airport today and naturally I attended. Today I have seen women in ball gowns, a handful of large teenagers in small amounts of clothing. I have listened to a young child cry because he father refused to let her to eat pizza at 9am and I watched two separate men trip when they tried to escape the moving side walk. There also seems to be a strong bald population traveling today. I remember Mr. clean fondly. I love airports, the opportunities for people watching seem to be endless.
Sometimes I wonder if people are watching me to. I suppose its not a far fetched idea to think that a stranger may be telling her friends about something silly I have done in public. Maybe I am even in someone’s blog somewhere.
I have a game that I like to play in airports. I suppose that it is more of a race than a game but I often keep score, so I think that it counts.
I never use the moving sidewalks. Even if I am late. It never fails that I get stuck behind someone who either is standing completely still or walks slower than I would like and I felt like I could get to my terminal fast if I just walked at a brisk speed. I also had a bad experience involving a moving sidewalk last year and I am a little nervous about giving them another try.
How does this qualify as a game or a race? Allow me to tell you.
There are always people on the moving sidewalks. They are never completely empty. When people are stepping onto the sidewalk as I walk past the entrance, I use this area as the starting line. I make it a goal to walk fast enough, and dodge child and stroller obstacles so that I can beat my unknowing competitor to the end of the side walk. Sometimes when people are walking slowly and I feel like beating them to my finish line is no great accomplishment, I change the rules. Instead of racing one single stranger, I make a goal to pass as many people as possible on the moving sidewalk. Today for example I was able to pass 10 lazy strangers. Happy Birthday victory to me.
I will write more later about the friends that I made on the airplane today, but I am about to board the plane to Lynchburg!
Cheers!
Sometimes I wonder if people are watching me to. I suppose its not a far fetched idea to think that a stranger may be telling her friends about something silly I have done in public. Maybe I am even in someone’s blog somewhere.
I have a game that I like to play in airports. I suppose that it is more of a race than a game but I often keep score, so I think that it counts.
I never use the moving sidewalks. Even if I am late. It never fails that I get stuck behind someone who either is standing completely still or walks slower than I would like and I felt like I could get to my terminal fast if I just walked at a brisk speed. I also had a bad experience involving a moving sidewalk last year and I am a little nervous about giving them another try.
How does this qualify as a game or a race? Allow me to tell you.
There are always people on the moving sidewalks. They are never completely empty. When people are stepping onto the sidewalk as I walk past the entrance, I use this area as the starting line. I make it a goal to walk fast enough, and dodge child and stroller obstacles so that I can beat my unknowing competitor to the end of the side walk. Sometimes when people are walking slowly and I feel like beating them to my finish line is no great accomplishment, I change the rules. Instead of racing one single stranger, I make a goal to pass as many people as possible on the moving sidewalk. Today for example I was able to pass 10 lazy strangers. Happy Birthday victory to me.
I will write more later about the friends that I made on the airplane today, but I am about to board the plane to Lynchburg!
Cheers!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Madonna and the bald communist
I need to be better about blogging every day. In order to back track and review the important events of the days I missed writing, I think that a list will be the most effective and efficient. If use of the word penis offends you, stop reading now. I use it once in this blog. You may also want to check out seasemestreet.com
1. On Tuesday I thought I was going to have to shave my head. Madonna and I were singing in perfect harmony in the car when my gum grew wings and flew into my hair. Although I often joke about shaving my head to eliminate the need to remember to pack a hairbrush, I don’t know how well I could pull off the bald look. Mr. Clean had a very smooth and nicely shaped scalp and I am not convinced that I am that fortunate. What if I have a mole shaped as a toilet or a penis on the top of my head and I just never knew about it? That would be embarrassing to say the least. I decided that I needed to make a serious effort to remove myself from this sticky situation without the use of scissors or razor blade.
Unfortunately since I was in the car without the proper tools and since I was dangerously close to being late to my next visit, I had to put my one-woman crisis management efforts on hold. However, I also knew that I could not let the guidance counselors at my visit know that there was a wad of gum in my hair. Thankfully the flying gum landed in some of the under layers on my mane. I pull the gum wrapper out of the cup holder, and wrapped it lightly around the gum that was molesting my hair. The last thing I needed for the gum to infect other pieces of my head. I was able to hide the infected area for the duration of the visit and the gum was later removed with peanut butter and a little bit of olive oil. I wonder if this had ever happened to Madonna.
2. Sometimes I wonder if P. Diddy wakes up in the morning feeling like Erin Storrs. For his sake, I hope it happens at least once.
3. Until Wednesday I was a little concerned that strange things stopped happening to me as soon as I started to blog. I went almost 3 days with out anything bizarre happening and life was abnormally normal. Wednesday was my first college fair of the season and the high school students didn’t let down. My favorite encounter of the evening involved a lovely girl curious about out communications program. I think that direct quotes are necessary. Please read the following dialog.
Genius High School student: “ So…..you have a Communication Major”
Me: “ Yes we do! Communication is actually one of LC’s top five majors. Very strong program”
Long pause as a look of confusion took over the girls face.
Genius High school student: “So… does that have to do with like… communism?”
Congratulations. You just made it into my book of quotes
1. On Tuesday I thought I was going to have to shave my head. Madonna and I were singing in perfect harmony in the car when my gum grew wings and flew into my hair. Although I often joke about shaving my head to eliminate the need to remember to pack a hairbrush, I don’t know how well I could pull off the bald look. Mr. Clean had a very smooth and nicely shaped scalp and I am not convinced that I am that fortunate. What if I have a mole shaped as a toilet or a penis on the top of my head and I just never knew about it? That would be embarrassing to say the least. I decided that I needed to make a serious effort to remove myself from this sticky situation without the use of scissors or razor blade.
Unfortunately since I was in the car without the proper tools and since I was dangerously close to being late to my next visit, I had to put my one-woman crisis management efforts on hold. However, I also knew that I could not let the guidance counselors at my visit know that there was a wad of gum in my hair. Thankfully the flying gum landed in some of the under layers on my mane. I pull the gum wrapper out of the cup holder, and wrapped it lightly around the gum that was molesting my hair. The last thing I needed for the gum to infect other pieces of my head. I was able to hide the infected area for the duration of the visit and the gum was later removed with peanut butter and a little bit of olive oil. I wonder if this had ever happened to Madonna.
2. Sometimes I wonder if P. Diddy wakes up in the morning feeling like Erin Storrs. For his sake, I hope it happens at least once.
3. Until Wednesday I was a little concerned that strange things stopped happening to me as soon as I started to blog. I went almost 3 days with out anything bizarre happening and life was abnormally normal. Wednesday was my first college fair of the season and the high school students didn’t let down. My favorite encounter of the evening involved a lovely girl curious about out communications program. I think that direct quotes are necessary. Please read the following dialog.
Genius High School student: “ So…..you have a Communication Major”
Me: “ Yes we do! Communication is actually one of LC’s top five majors. Very strong program”
Long pause as a look of confusion took over the girls face.
Genius High school student: “So… does that have to do with like… communism?”
Congratulations. You just made it into my book of quotes
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Mr. Clean is kind of a jerk
This week I came to the realization that I should never, under any circumstance, marry a bald man. Although the idea of being legally bound to a shiny mirror to admire my own reflection in thrills me, I l also recognize that my level of productivity would fall faster than humpty dumpty.
On Sunday evening, as I found my seat in the back of the airplane traveling to Charlotte, I had only one mission. I was going to finish reading a book that I have been nursing for over a year. When I approached seat 12 A, I sat down, fastened my seatbelt, and cracked open my novel. Little did I know that within a matter of minutes my hopes and dreams of finishing my book were going to be crushed by a bag of pretzels and a razor blade.
When the man directly in front of me settled into his seat, I took a moment to admire his bald head and smiled as I compared him to Mr. Clean. Just as I was about to lower my face back into my book, Mr. Clean slighty turns his bald head and I am able to see his scalp wrinkle. It was amazing. With every movement of his neck, I watched the exposed skin shift. When he chewed his complimentary pretzels, I watched the veins in the back of his head wiggle. I was completely mesmerized.
I found myself plotting ways to touch his baldness and making it look like an accident. I brainstormed through take off, through the safety announcements, and through the warm water that the flight attendant so kindly offered me. It just looked so smooth and the skin seemed so thin and I really just wanted to make it wrinkle with my fingertips.
I had finally decided that when the pilot turned off the fasten seatbelt sign, I was going to stand up as soon as possible and use the headrest of the seat in front of me for support. As I wrapped my fingers around the seat, I was going to accidently grace my fingertips across his head and then quickly apologize for invading his space so carelessly.
It was not until the attendant came on the radio to prepare the flight for landing that I realized that I had only read 5 pages of my book during the 50 minute flight. I should have been disappointed with myself for being so easily distracted but I was still too caught up with my plan of attack to care.
As the plane pulled up to the gate I hear Mr. Clean say to his neighbor, “ I actually just moved here from Vermont”. Naturally, I had no choice but to tell him with excess enthusiasm that I too hailed from the great green mountain state and now residing in central, VA. I was hoping that this connection would instantly bond us and that by the time we unloaded the plane, we would be established BFF and that I could just touch his head without judgment.
Fail. Mr. Clean was not at all impressed about our common link and made a few comments about how people living in the greater Burlington area don’t really count as true Vermonters. I was bummed because. A) the man that I wasted so much time watching turned out to be an asshole. B) I was certain that I was not going to be able to touch his bald head and C) I never finished that damn book.
Cheers
On Sunday evening, as I found my seat in the back of the airplane traveling to Charlotte, I had only one mission. I was going to finish reading a book that I have been nursing for over a year. When I approached seat 12 A, I sat down, fastened my seatbelt, and cracked open my novel. Little did I know that within a matter of minutes my hopes and dreams of finishing my book were going to be crushed by a bag of pretzels and a razor blade.
When the man directly in front of me settled into his seat, I took a moment to admire his bald head and smiled as I compared him to Mr. Clean. Just as I was about to lower my face back into my book, Mr. Clean slighty turns his bald head and I am able to see his scalp wrinkle. It was amazing. With every movement of his neck, I watched the exposed skin shift. When he chewed his complimentary pretzels, I watched the veins in the back of his head wiggle. I was completely mesmerized.
I found myself plotting ways to touch his baldness and making it look like an accident. I brainstormed through take off, through the safety announcements, and through the warm water that the flight attendant so kindly offered me. It just looked so smooth and the skin seemed so thin and I really just wanted to make it wrinkle with my fingertips.
I had finally decided that when the pilot turned off the fasten seatbelt sign, I was going to stand up as soon as possible and use the headrest of the seat in front of me for support. As I wrapped my fingers around the seat, I was going to accidently grace my fingertips across his head and then quickly apologize for invading his space so carelessly.
It was not until the attendant came on the radio to prepare the flight for landing that I realized that I had only read 5 pages of my book during the 50 minute flight. I should have been disappointed with myself for being so easily distracted but I was still too caught up with my plan of attack to care.
As the plane pulled up to the gate I hear Mr. Clean say to his neighbor, “ I actually just moved here from Vermont”. Naturally, I had no choice but to tell him with excess enthusiasm that I too hailed from the great green mountain state and now residing in central, VA. I was hoping that this connection would instantly bond us and that by the time we unloaded the plane, we would be established BFF and that I could just touch his head without judgment.
Fail. Mr. Clean was not at all impressed about our common link and made a few comments about how people living in the greater Burlington area don’t really count as true Vermonters. I was bummed because. A) the man that I wasted so much time watching turned out to be an asshole. B) I was certain that I was not going to be able to touch his bald head and C) I never finished that damn book.
Cheers
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