Sunday, November 29, 2015
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
First, if you're squeamish- STOP READING NOW! For real.
It was a Saturday morning. A regular customer came up to inform me that the men's room urinal was overflowing and all over the floor. At this time, I was the manager on duty. The other manager was in a dog costume for storytime. So, I grab the only other male employee available and head to the men's room. I'm thinking it's no big deal. Most of the time, guys stuff paper towels into the urinal and it overflows. That was not the case. Someone has actually shit in the urinal. Anytime it flushed, water overflowed onto the floor. My idea was to glove up, grab the shit, toss it into the toilet and free the urinal. Easier said than done. I immediately started to retch when I got close. I've seen many a gross thing in my time. This one topped them all. Seeing my struggle, my fellow employee and friend in the trenches offered to do the deed. God bless. He got close, but began retching also.
"I don't want to throw up in front of my boss" he said, apologetically.
"I don't want that either. Neither one of us can do this."
At that point, I decided to put an out of order sign on it and call it a day. The other manager finished with the story time and we agreed to let it go.
Since then, anyone that hears the story feels the need to tell me their story that they think beats mine. Listen, this isn't a contest. And, believe me, I've seen some gross stuff. At my former work place, a woman emerged from the restroom informing me that I need to clean it up because she had "explosive diarrhea" and her sister came in to help and threw up in the sink. I cleaned up that mess. That sink didn't drain well. So, I've seen gross. I've also pulled a cotton ball out of a dog's ass. Once, I accidentally ate dirt off the floor thinking it was a potato chip. That same summer, a fly flew directly into my mouth and I swallowed it. I'm a mother, too. I've seen some things go down. But, until you've seen shit floating in a urinal, shut the hell up.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Monday, September 21, 2015
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
My uncle was many things, but the two that stick out are intelligent and funny. At his funeral, the pastor that gave his eulogy mentioned these two things. He knew my uncle and it came through in his words. It was a very good service. I normally hate weddings and funerals because the person speaking usually has no idea of the people they're speaking of. This time, it was done very well. My uncle was very smart. One of the smartest people I've had the pleasure of knowing. But, if you knew him, you knew about his sense of humor. It was dry and methodical. A joke was a story with meaning:not just a one liner. He had a way of telling a story. There was no rush. He had thoughtful pauses and a sense of cadence. When the end of the joke or story was revealed, it had more impact. This also made him a good preacher. People felt comfortable with him. He was a great listener as well as a great speaker. If he knew you were troubled, he always lent a shoulder and an ear.
I always remember my mom talking about when my uncle first started dating my Aunt Sally. "He was so weird," she said. "He had these huge blowup pictures of rats on his wall." How funny is that? I thought that was the coolest. He walked his own beat. He was a great dad and husband. My heart is broken for my aunt. Watching her say goodbye to him at the funeral was one of the saddest things I've ever seen. They were married for well over forty years. They were always a model for me of what a good relationship is. The last time I saw him was at Bob's funeral. His presence was enough to comfort me. But, he went above and beyond by talking to me and trying to provide some solace. My aunt gave me an envelope with money. Money that kept me and V afloat and on our feet until we got things figured out. That's something I'll never forget. That's my aunt and uncle- huge hearts. They raised two tough kids. It's hard seeing them in pain. I know neither of them want to show it. They're very strong. I would give anything to take away the pain for them. My poor aunt. This is such a devastating blow. I worry so much about how they're all doing everyday. I'll never process my own grief because I'm too worried about them. However, when my cousin, Jeri, called and told me he died, I cried so hard. V comforted me. "Mom, you were there for me, I'm here for you." he said. It was so sweet. A child should never have any idea about grief, but he does.
I can't put into words what a cool guy he was. He was a lifetime father figure to me. He was the rock to the McClure family. Their beautiful hearts are shattered without him. If you had the pleasure of knowing him, you are blessed. Miss you, Uncle Jerry.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Friday, August 14, 2015
I walked into the women's locker room yesterday and it was like I walked into an eighties teen movie. I could smell a cocktail of perfume, shampoo, and hairspray. Standing in front of the big mirrors was a young lady, clad only in underwear, her hair wrapped in a towel. I've never seen anything like this in the locker room. I've seen women in various states of undress, but never this teen movie-ish. I felt like I was in a scene from Porky's. I swear she was dancing, but that might have been my imagination. Her confidence was striking. She didn't give two shits who was there. I quickly washed my pale hands, her tanned body bopping in the background. It was a fascinating scene.
Otherwise, my gym is pretty regular. There are a lot of older people. In fact, I remember seeing a little old lady on the treadmill, purse on her arm. It was adorable. The weirdest was a girl wearing jeans on the treadmill. It seemed counterproductive. I imagine she's thinking something like "They'll rip these jeans off my cold, dead body." She was committed to those jeans. I finally got real workout clothing. Before that, I wore what I think were pajama pants and an old man t-shirt. All black, of course, like a gothic refugee.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Saturday, July 25, 2015
It's been a month since I've been back with the Russian. I'm very happy. It's such a weird feeling. It all started when my friend said he saw him at a store one day. I bombarded him with questions.
"Did he look good? What did his hair look like? Was he tan? He gets really tan in the summer?"
After that, I couldn't stop thinking about him. So, I texted him. The rest is history. We desperately missed each other. Our reasons for splitting weren't really valid. I felt we didn't see each other enough. Now, I'm quite fine with it. I like my time to myself. I felt we didn't have much in common, but I find it actually makes our conversations more interesting.
We split not long after Bob died. I was in a very bad place. I think I pushed the world away from myself. I felt like we wouldn't last, so why not end it. He had the same weird philosophy. He felt we may break up in the future, so he thought it better to split.
The odds are probably stacked against us. We're very opposite - He's tall, lean and dark, I'm short, hefty and pale. There's quite an age difference. But, it works. We're enamored with each other. He treats me so well. Every time we meet, he brings me a cute card with some sweet message inside. This is accompanied by chocolate or something yummy to eat. I've never had anyone compliment me so much. He's constantly telling me I'm beautiful. No one I've ever dated before has done that. I feel good about myself with him. What an impossible thing to happen. A man that can make that happen is a miracle worker.
I won't lie, he's damn easy on the eyes. Plus, our chemistry is undeniable. When we're together, we smile at each other like fools. We're disgustingly happy around each other. It may not last. Hell, the world may end tomorrow. I say let us enjoy it while it's here.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Monday, July 6, 2015
I feel like such a failure to him. We were married and supposed to have this unbreakable pact. I feel like I didn't give enough to him or try hard enough. I crawled into a shell when things went sour rather than fight. I didn't try hard enough. Why? We had a child together. A life. Why didn't I fight for us? We were together for so long. We never fought. It was so symbiotic. When life set in and boredom or whatever arose, why didn't we both kick it in the ass? I should've made him happier. That is truly my biggest regret in life.
Regardless of any of that, we created an amazing boy. Just amazing. A little ball of genius, a weird sense of humor, a new little sun in the universe. Whether or not we made a good or bad impact in each other's lives, we made him. Everyday, he makes me laugh. There's elements of both of us in him, but, at the same time, he's a distinct individual. I wish Bob could see him now. His brain never stops. It's all my weirdness and all Bob's intelligence wrapped up in this tiny, little body.
I often wonder how my relationship with Bob would've been. Would we have just remained friends? Would we have gotten to a point where we realized we were being ridiculous and find ourselves back together? It doesn't matter. In the end, I always just wanted him to be happy. If that were with me or anyone else. Thankfully, he knew that. I told him quite a few times. I'm glad we stayed friends after the split. All crosses were buried and hurts put in the past. The boy was our number one focus. So, I should just continue that strategy, I suppose. I can't lament what occurred. It doesn't help anything. I always worry about messing up other people's lives, though. How do you make sure you're a benign influence and not some malevolent presence in someone's heart and soul?
Saturday, July 4, 2015
Speaking of boobs, my sister in law mentioned that her husband thought my boobs were fake. I laughed and told him I would've gone bigger if they were. I'm in possession of a great bra. When I lay down, they roll into my sides like pancakes. That's the true sign of real boobs. Fake ones stand at attention. Sometimes I lift them up to where they used to hang. My breasts are the one thing on my body that I don't hate.
There is the ever present misconception that I'm stupid because I'm blonde. At work, it's most prevalent. That could also be because I'm a woman. I experience blatant sexism from customers. No one ever assumes that I could be a manager. One guy stood at the customer service counter, yet said he didn't need my help. My male co-worker was busy and paged for help. Once again, I asked this guy if he needed help.
"I'm looking for a manager." he said, impatiently. That's when I get to flash my devilish grin and say "I'm a manager." His face fell. He was inquiring about a job. I'm sure he felt like an ass. Yes, women can be managers, even blonde ones. Welcome to this century.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Monday, June 15, 2015
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Today, a man told me I looked really good. Me. He was a normal man, not an octogenarian, like my normal suitors, so it was refreshing. But, first, let me paint a picture of what gym Erin looks like. I wear old sweatpants with bleach stains. This is accompanied by a shirt covered in cat hair and a sports bra pulling my boobs into my body until I'm like Hilary Swank in Boys Don't Cry. No make-up, glasses and disheveled hair. When I say no make-up, keep in mind my pink skin undertones that get pinker when I physically exert myself. It's like looking upon a human pig. This is what this man thought looked good. I wasn't attracted to him, but he was a decent looking, in-shape man. He almost walked into a sign looking at me. I felt like that Sex and the City episode where Miranda is wearing her old man Hanes shirt at the gym and the guy says she's sexy. How can this be possible? I can't even get guys to give me that reaction when I'm at my best. My running theory is one I read about- women send out certain pheromones during their periods, signaling to men that they're fertile. Since I've read this, I do notice men are more attentive during these times. Or maybe it's because I'm insane during my period and they're in fear. I get very feisty. Whatever it was, it was bizarre.
At work, I found a fortune from a cookie lying on the floor directly in my path. It said "In order to stay young, one must change." That same day, I found a Tarot card for the Queen of Staves (Wands) on a shelf. I feel like these are signs. Being a Cancer, I dislike change. But, I quite like all the changes that have recently occurred in my life. If I actually get in shape like I'm always threatening to do, I will be bizarro me.
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Thursday, April 30, 2015
My friend and I joined a gym. Me, for obvious reasons. I think she just wants to get into better shape. She's slender and a classic beauty who doesn't need a minute at the gym. We probably look like Laurel & Hardy when we enter.
Today was our second day, but I have a routine down. I do thirty minutes of cardio and thirty minutes of weight training. As I sat doing my thirty minutes on the bike, I noticed the popularity of the bike beside me. There's about a line of seven of these bikes. Plenty of personal space for all. So, why two different old men had to park it right beside me I'll never know. The first smelled like he fell down in a vat of IcyHot. The second freaking sang to himself the whole time. I'm trying to listen to Joe Rogan and read some Buzzfeed. Listen, gents, I know what you're up to. I only get hit on by old men, so I know their games. It's gross. I wear my wedding ring on my right hand. It's going to get switched to my left when these geezers are around. There are some hot guys there, but none looking my way. Story of my life.
Today the bike told me my weight. Thanks, bike. I needed to know that I'm ten pounds heavier than I thought I was. Instead, a punching glove should've extended from a secret compartment and punched me in the gut. I'm there and doing the work, so I guess it's the first step. I think it's boosting my metabolism because I feel like eating all of the food all of the time. Maybe in a month, I'll see some results.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Friday, April 3, 2015
Our computer recently died. Not a huge surprise. It was old. It's time had come. We only use it for goofy Internet searches, so I bought the boy a tablet. He likes to go onto YouTube and watch videos of people making modifications to Legos and Transformers using sharpies. It was priceless when he said, "Mom, these people are adults, but they're playing with toys." I replied with "I know. They probably live in their mom's basement. Don't become one of them."
Technology is great, sometimes amazing. Upon setting up this tablet, it synced up pictures I had saved at some point, somewhere. Of course, one being of Jon Hamm's crotch. Specifically his bulge. Jon Hamm likes to hit the town sans underwear. I know this because of the internet. I think there's a Tumblr dedicated to "little Hamm". So, one of these images was saved to some cloud and then downloaded onto his tablet. He hasn't explored all the components of his tablet, thank goodness. The problem is, I can't figure out how to delete it. I'm not tech savvy, but, by no means am I an idiot. However, I cannot find an option to delete pictures. It also downloaded a pic of me and an ex. That one needs to go away, too. We look very happy. While I look upon little Hamm with love, the same can't be said for the ex. As much as I enjoy a celebrity's exact outline of genitals in his pants, it's not something that needs to be on my child's tablet. Also, that thing is huge. He doesn't need to suffer penis envy this early in life. Quite honestly, I'm surprised that was the only salacious pic to show up. I've had many unsolicited junk pics sent to me. My girl friends can attest to this. Guys, just know that if you send one, at least 10 other girls are seeing it and giggling. While the child is away, I'm going to diligently research how to remove this pic. Let's hope I don't have to call tech support.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
I did have one date recently, but I'm sure it was a fluke. He was handsome, funny, cool. We discussed Hemingway, Kerouac and writing in general. It was a great date. So, I hold out 0% hope that there will be another one. I just can't have nice things. He'll flake. They all do. To say I'm jaded, at this point, is an understatement. I'm not even desiring that much. I just want a man to hang out with once in a while. The Russian was always concerned with marriage, saying he never wanted to be married. First, I would tell him that my experience was a great one. Then, I would remind him that I don't think I ever want to get married again. It was a moot point. Regardless, it was one of his focal points in our mutual breakup. I'm perfectly happy to "live in sin" or just hang out out whenever. I just want to kiss, snuggle and watch Netflix.
Maybe there are too many options. Choosing a potential mate becomes very dismissive. Some people get too specific. I had one guy message me, asking if I was dominant. He said it was essential in his relationships. It made me think about arranged marriages. Those people didn't have a choice. The man couldn't demand a woman be dominant. He was probably thankful if she was the least bit attractive. I have very few stipulations-no guns, Nascar hats or extreme obesity in the profile pictures. Sadly, that cuts out about half of my options. About 20 times a day, I wonder why I'm on any of these sites and consider deleting my profiles.
Monday, February 23, 2015
It's also the worst winter I can recall. Of course, I live in a place on a huge hill with a ton of steps and I have to shovel. My downstairs neighbor and I take turns. She's young and full of energy. I shovel slower and less efficiently than my elderly neighbor. Maybe because I adopt a Groucho Marx stance as I shovel. That's why I was hoping I just had a backache. When it's not snowing, the temperature is reaching below negative degrees. At this rate, I may as well live in Iceland. There's probably better dating opportunities there anyway.
Speaking of- there's nothing to speak of in the dating life. I have unsuccessfully tried for a third date with this one guy. We had two great ones and we get along famously. But, he's flaked out three times for the third date. The third time is not a charm. The other day, he told me he's trying to get himself together before he "brings someone else into his life". I completely respect that, however, I think it's a death note to this whole thing. It's a shame. We had chemistry and really got each other.
I joined another dating site, more for something to do rather than truly expecting anything out of it. On the bright side, they sent an email saying that I was one of the most attractive people on the site due to clicks to my profile and reactions in their quickmatch. Great. There are a couple of good matches on there, but, I really don't hold out hope. I will say, though, that when I'm feeling down, it's nice to read a funny/complimentary message. One guy wrote that he's "never done anything like this before, but you're a babe, so I'm trying", suggesting a hook up. While I'm vehemently opposed to the idea, it was nice to be called a babe when I'm feeling gross. I'm not even sure if I'm ready to bring a man into my life. I devote my attention to my kid and I feel even that's not enough. So, if something happens, it happens. Honestly, I'm ok. It's nice to hear some compliments and be doted on. I'll take that. That never gets old.