“HAHA, Gotcha” said God one sunny day.

I cant believe that it has been an entire year since I have started this blog. I wish that I could say that I finished the year posting as regularly as I was in the beginning, but I suppose I can try harder this year. When I started this little freakshow project of mine, I had an embarrassingly shallow social life and it seemed that I didn't have anything better to do than write. In the last year, I have come to terms with the fact that I may be living in VA for a while, formed some great friendships, took up running as a hobby, started applying to graduate schools, and worked diligently at perfecting my art of being the most awkward kid on the block.

I know that I took some time off from writing regularly but I am ready to come back in full swing. I miss the days that I would religiously check for comments and constantly update my pageviews. Thankfully, my fall travel season for work started this week and given that travel chaos was the original theme of this blog, I am confident that it will give me some inspiration.

It only took a few hours for this trip to be interesting.

I flew into Boston early Monday morning and everything seemed to be going smoothly. I firmly believe that the fate of my trip can always be determined by the success of my first flight. If I get bumped to first class, it will be a great week. If I have delays or if my baggage gets lost, I will be lucky to survive until Friday. If the plane crashes, that sucks too.

Although this week I was not bumped to 1^st class, my plane arrived on time an d my luggage made it to Boston with me. I figured that this was a sign from God was everything would run smoothly for the duration from the week.

Wrong.

Now that I think about it, it may have been presumptuous for me to even try to guess what God's signs are supposed to mean. Who am I to claim to know G's intensions. He and I both know I haven't spent any note worthy amount of time at his house lately.

Monday, I had a few visits with high schools and everything seemed to be going well. When I was finished for the day, I decided that I was going to go to the hotel, catch up on some emails and take a nap before finding some dinner.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I was enjoying my merry drive through the small towns of MA.

CRASH!!!!!!

I felt my car propel forward as the Jeep Wrangler behind me took residence in my back seat.

" Well that's not good" I said outloud to myself.

I get out the car to talk to wrangler's driver and I was surprised to see an attractive man in his mid-20s.

I introduce myself, smiling like a fool. He probably thought that I had suffered some sort of brain injury from the crash, who smiles after a car accident?

We exchanged info, called the police about next steps, and went our separate ways before it hit me that I was driving a rental car. panic set in and tears would not stop rolling out of my eyes.

I returned the car to hertz, got a new uglier car, and went on my merry way. Brian ( the wrangler) sent me an email later that night apologizing again and providing me with a copy of an accident report to fill out.

I responded:

Thanks, I was able to fill one out at Hertz. It was nice meeting you although the circumstances were not ideal. Maybe we will run into each other again sometime. Pun very much intended.

Erin S***

VP of fender benders and rental car relations

BadLuck Inc.

No response. Whatever. I had a good laugh.

Flying Urinating Squirrels Love Lemon Yogurt

It is no secret to you, my dearest readers, that for the last five weeks I have been suffering from a miserable case of writer'sblock. Although I do apologize for abandoning your reading needs for so long and I do worry that my reglegence is a clear sign that I should never have children, I want to assure you that my absense is not a sign that my life has shriveled into a series of boring cookie cutter days. Although I have found myself in several awkwardly noteable situations, I simply have not had the creative energy or the time to write them in a way that would be entertaining for any of you to read. I am hoping to change that today and give you a little taste of what has been happening in my freakshow life for the last couple of weeks.

The most important event worth noting is that I moved into a new house a few weeks ago. Although I will not bore you with the details of the physical move, you may take pleasure in knowing that I was welcomed to the neighborhood in the most sanitary of ways. I was leaving the local grocery store and daydreaming about the lemon yogurt that I had just purchased when I saw a man standing awkwardly close to a silver car. I chuckled a mighty chuckle and thought to myself: " Self, it sure looks like that man is peeing on that poor person's automobile" I then realized that the car being washed with human urine was parked in the same spot that I had left my own silver car and quickly my chuckle came to a halt. Those of you who read about my daily episodes on a regular basis know that I am by no means a stranger to odd encounters but nothing quite like this has ever happened to me before. I was not sure of the proper etiiquette for disturbing a stranger's public urination. After a few quick seconds of deep thought, I was able to place myself in his metaphorical shoes. I have personally never had to pee so badly that I felt the need to release myself in a public parking lot in the middle of the day, but if I ever do see myself in such a situation, I would hope that people would allow me to do my business in peace. No one likes being walked in on while using the restroom at the mall with the broken stall handle. Also, I was not sure what I would say if I decided to approach the urinating gentleman. Would I be obligated to give him $5 for washing my back tire? Ultimately I decided that it was best if I allowed him to finish his duties in peace before I went home to enjoy that lemon yogurt.

You may also be interested in knowing that I have been walking like Forest Gump for almost a full week. Although it is undeniably true that I am willing and able to do almost anything to draw attention to myself for the sake of a good story, this specific act of ridiculousness is not a direct result of my self adoration and instead is the product of the twisting of my two left feet.

The trouble all began a few weeks ago when my beloved roommate joined a running group called the Hash Harriers. Although this post is not intended to act as a marketing campaign the Hash Harrier group and I have full intensions of pulling this writing exercise back to my flying squirrel fall; I feel like I do need to take the time to admire a group that cherishes some of the things that I love most; beer, socializing , being outside, running, and generally inappropriate- adultlike behavior. Founded in 1930, The Hash Harriers identify themselves as a drinking group with a running problem. Although I have only participated in the rowdy shenanigans of this organization once, I have a deep respect for any group that allows me to act unladylike in public. When Kate invited me to join her last Wednesday, I was thrilled but a little nervous. I was a kindergartener on the first day of school. What if there were bullies? What if the other kids didn't like me? What if they pulled my hair and/or stole my lunch (or in this case beer) money? What if the little boy that spit in my hair when I was sledding was there? What if he spit in my hair again? Although several horror situations played through my mind, I had not even considered the possibility that I would trip and fall on my face.

When I arrived in the meeting lot, I felt instantly at ease. Everyone was very friendly and there was no sign of anyone who may want to spit on me. We circled up and sang some songs, everyone introduced themselves with their inappropriate hash nicknames and I was able to identify myself as a virgin hasher. I had been brainstorming ways to reinstate my virginity, so I was thrilled. As we began the trail of the evening, I ran approximately 103 steps before I tripped on a curb, shoelace, or thin air and dropped quickly to the pavement. "Virgin down!" someone yelled.

Although I do not tend to embarrass easily, I am sure that I blushed before kissing my mighty muscles and lifting my body to continue my epic hashing journey. It was not until another hasher pointed to the blood gushing from my bare knees that I realized that I had been wounded. Still not feeling the pain and wanting my new friends to think that I am super badass, I continued to run.

Our trail lasted about three miles and ended at a local watering hole where the group enjoyed more songs and beer and I used an entire first aid kit of bandages. I was brought to the center of the drinking circle several times for being a hashing virgin, for eating pavement, and for general awkwardness. I am the master of first impressions and I am really excited to go back next week.

Tomorrow I will try to find the time to discuss an emo man with gagged ears who I may or may not have proposed marriage to last weekend. He may or may not have tripped over his own foot to get away. I may or may not think that because of the events of last week, that we may be a match made in clumsy heaven.

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.

Good luck, Jerry

I like to talk to people on planes. In the past few years I have talked to single moms about their rebellious pre-teens, reviewed a wedding album with a jealous sister, and listened to a old man recite an impressive list of facts about roller coasters. Last Sunday though, I was just not in the mood. It had been a long weekend and all I wanted to do was take a nap. I was thrilled that I would be in a plane where there was really nothing that I could do BUT sleep. I could take a nice long nap without feeling guilty.

As I walked through Lynchburg security, I was greeted by one of the most obnoxious men I have met in real life. He was just one of those people who just assumes that everyone around them wants to hear about their jobs, about their daughter’s report cards, and about the bad case of acne that they had when they were 13. Normally, I would have been delighted to hear his life story, but Sunday I was only able to force polite head nods in his general direction and count the minutes until I would be able to sit in the plane and escape his chatter. I should have known that I wouldn’t be that lucky.

When I got on the plane, I saw that I was assigned to sit next to Sir Chatterbox and was temped to turn around and start walking to Boston. After deciding that if I was too tired to hold a conversation with a stranger that I was also too tired to walk 500 miles, I sat down and prepared myself for the longest 50 minute plane ride known to mankind. I listen to him ramble about his cable bill, about his boss, about visit to the dentist the previous Wednesday. When the plane finally landed, I politely wished him safe travels to his final destination and darted out off the plane like I was an IBS patient in search for a bathroom. I needed to escape before sir chatter had the chance ask me if I wanted to continue our conversation over coffee.

I go straight to the terminal, playing and winning my sidewalk race. I throw my body into one of the sticky plastic chairs infront of my gate and sigh loudly with great relief and confidence that I escaped my predator, sir chatterbox. I imagine that my feelings closely resembled those of jerry the mouse every time he escaped Tom the cat. I send the next hour watching season four of Dexter, which is a blog for a later time. The USAIRWAYS woman comes on the intercom.
Flight Delay.

Flight Delayed again.

And again.

Awesome.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, I boarded my final plane of the evening to Boston . Nap time? I wish. As I find my seat, I realize that I had never asked Sir Chatterbox where he was traveling. I know now that he too was traveling to Boston…. in the seat directly across the aisle from me. He was so glad that we could continue our conversation right where we left off.

Tom the chatty cat:1

Jerry the sleep/cranky mouse:0