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When One Door Closes (It Means Your Kid Escaped)

August 16, 2016

Enter me, it’s 7:32pm on a muggy Monday night and the apartment is quiet upon my entrance. No, “Mommy! Mommy!” from a child, no “RUHRUHRUHRUHRUH!” from the other furrier child… No “Hello!” from the SO.

Everything is amiss.

Where are they? What happened? Were the aliens gentle in taking my whole family away? Will I ever see them again? What am I having for dinner? So many questions, the weird energy in the apartment is bountiful.

And then pops the SO from the bathroom, he sees my face and even though I think I’m neutral he suddenly says, “Nothing happened but…”

I pop an eyebrow and immediately stomp into the living room to see my child, completely naked, sitting in her stuffed chair, shirt dangling from her hand. Rosie sits avoiding eye contact on the couch, suddenly a fiber of the sofa is fascinating to her.

“What happened?” I asked the room, Rosie chooses not to respond. Corina tries to put her head through the arm hole of her shirt.

“I had just taken the fan apart and started the bathwater to clean it off when i heard the door close so I thought you had just come home. But then I don’t see Rosie…or hear her bark at you. And then the door opens again and there’s Corina, naked in the doorway. Rosie was still in the hallway.”

POP ALL OF THE EYEBROWS.

My daughter, apparently ready to join nature with her dog sister in tow, had walked right out of the apartment. Sure, she walked right back in realizing maybe nature (my old apartment building hallway) could wait until she could make well rounded cognitive decisions. Sure, she left Rosie in the hallway probably because Rosie orchestrated this whole thing and is trying to escape our love and medical attention on her infected eyeball. Sure, we should have boarded up any exit in our apartment the second we saw the crazy spark of independence in Cori’s lil baby eye years ago.

But we didn’t.

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A reenactment

A reenactment

So my daughter was given a taste of true freedom, decidedly in her birthday suit. Thank God no unsuspecting tenants rounded the stairs to see a small naked child with wild eyes and a winking dog, because what horror movies aren’t made from that kind of scene?

And now we live behind always locked doors.

Until she finds out how to unlock 3 deadbolts.

Or climb from her window to see a boy (hopefully clothed…for awhile anyway).

Or sneak into the garage for Dad’s car.

Or gets the keys to unlock her first apartment.

K, I’m gonna go cry now. AMIRITE?

Pee’s and Thank You

August 4, 2016

Ok, weirdos. I have a problem that I’ve had a constant thought stream about… and I can’t stall on the issue any longer… I have to sort through the P’s and Q’s of this dilemma and I’m just not able to hold it in any longer…

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Ok so clearly we’re talking bathroom stuff. But more specifically… Who the fuck goes first and how that can affect your entire bathroom experience.

There is nothing more awkward than walking into a public bathroom with a coworker (or friend), full of conversation, until the stall latches and you’re both dropping trou. The immediate seconds after are only known in horror films released between ’81-’86. It’s a GD nightmare.

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The laughter from your witty retort prior to slipping into the stall has long ago echoed away past the hipster exposed piping of your Brooklyn office bathroom. And you’re both sitting, multiple metal walls apart (God forbid it’s not directly next door), waiting for the other’s stream but wishing you could go first so it doesn’t sound like your stream needed their stream to release itself. But then going first makes you feel the need to quiet your stream as to not embarrass or scare away the shy stream of your bathroom buddy.

I know ladies, you’re sweating right now. I’m sorry to expose you to PTSD symptoms of the stall variety, but we have another level of this fresh hell that we must address: THE OVERLY DELAYED STREAM RELEASE. Or ODSR for all doctors reading this post.

This, my non urethra (is that the pee part? *can’t find anatomy books under all the Harley Quinn comics and YA book series*) wearing friends, is something of a phenomenon. We (the doctors) are not really sure how to medically explain the elusive ODSR but basically it’s an issue where you can’t pee because you’re lost in thought but you can’t focus on peeing because then the pee won’t come so you have to pretend to be lost in thought but really you’re focusing on peeing.

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This isn’t that big of a deal unless you can’t conjure the flow during the time your coworker or bathroom patron has peed, wiped, flushed and (hopefully) washed. Because then we go from pee paranoia… to POOP PRIDE. No, you are not pooping. Yes, you will pee. But if it doesn’t trickle into existence before that coworker walks out the door you might as well be hunched over taking a massive… You may as well just poop because your reputation for the rest of the day is “The coworker who waited to poop”.

As you can see, women have a tough go of things. You can say a period or delivering a baby or being paid less or being told to smile or being called a cold bitch if you don’t is a pain in the neck… but the real issue in the craw of the collective woman is peeing in the private public. Clearly.

Alexander Pineappleton: A Musical

July 29, 2016

Sup, weirdos. S’been awhile and oh how I’ve missed you. Per my previous post, I did indeed start a new job and it has been quite a good time. Still learning and absolutely loving it.

A nice perk working at this agency is the creative flow I’ve got all around me, and not just with work, these people ooze it out of the office as well. It’s contagious but I still found that, for some reason, I couldn’t peg down a blog post topic for months now. It was so frustrating.  I was thinking so damn hard about whether or not I wanted to write about Coconut Water (it’s like thick AND water…) or God forbid the damn politics… Nothing was working in my head. Until I realized, I’d been a busy lil chick lately and I HAD been writing. So why not show off something I’m very proud of. My bestie is obsessed with pineapple. Her husband and I have grown to accept this and for her birthday I chose to celebrate her illness instead of judging it. Because I’m amazing. And humble.

Some say it’s a masterpiece. Re-written to be a masterpiece about Pineapple.

And thus I present, my genius (after Lin Manuel Miranda’s original genius) adaptation of “Satisfied” from Hamilton… about Pineapple.

*Clears throat*

A toast to the fruit!
To the fruit! To the fruit! To the fruit!
To the spikes! To the spikes! To the spiiikes!
For Erinnnn, who’ll always take a bite!
To the whole foods! To the whole foods, to the organic choices! And the hope that it provides. (it’s provides! it provides!)

May you alwaaaaaays, have a bite.

I remember that bite, I just might-
I remember that bite, I just might-
I remember that bite, I remember that bite, I remember that…

I remember that bite, I just might regret that bite for the rest of my days.
I remember that produce aisle, tripping over ourselves just to get a taste
I remember that dream like, sunny light, yellow bright that you can’t quite place.
Oh Pineappleeee
I’ll  never forget the first time I had your taaaste
I will never be the same,
Green sprouty plant and a spikey edge frame.
And when you were sliced I forgot my dang name- set my mouth aflame, canker sore aflame

This Is Not A Game.

Pineapple: You strike me as a woman who will never be satisfied
Me: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, give me that fork.
Pineapple: You’re like me, I will never been satisfied.
Me: You’re- a- fruit.
Pineapple: I have never been satisfied.

Me: Her name is Erin O’Reilly
Pineapple: Alexander Pineappleton
Me: Where’s your tree from?
Pineapple: Unimportant, there’s a board to cut, let’s get it done. And just you wait! Just you wait.

SO SO SO, so this is what it feels like to wipe juice from muh-chin from the fruit, what the hell is this mess?
It’s the yellow, the sweetness, don’t eat the spikes.
It’s a Erin with a sweet appetite, you see it right?
The juicy snack lasted two minutes maybe three minutes everything I ate in total agreement it’s a dream and it’s a bit of dance, a bit of a dribble and a bit of a stance
He’s a bit under ripe but I’ll give em the chance
I asked about his tree, did you see his answer? His green started fidgeting, he looked askance. He’s not organic, he’s flying by the seeds of his plants.
Juicy, boy does he know it.
Spiked skin, and he can’t even shed it.
I want take him far away from this plate but then I turn see Erin’s face and she is
HELPLESSSSS
And I know she is
HELPLESSSSSS
and her eyes are just
HELPLESSSSSS
And I realize 3 fundamental truths at the exact same time….

NUMBER ONE!
I’m a girl in a world where my only job is to
give a gift
My grocer had not one, so I’m the one who has to search queens for one
They were the oldest and the shittiest, not the hottest but not so pity-ish
And pineapple at its shittiest HA!
Doesn’t mean she’ll want it any less

NUMBER TWO!
I’m a great gift giver I’ll search for the finest one, you’d have to be naive to pick precut for one, the price doubles I
Couldn’t imagine a pineapple so hard to find
Nice going dumb Erika, you were right it’s gonna be Whole Foods time.

NUMBER THREE!
I know these aisles like I know my own mind I will deftly find the ripest spikey of our time.
If I don’t pull through for Erin she would silently resign with no rind
She would say I’m fine-
I FINALLY FIND

The juiciest prospect I cut up before our eyes
And I romanticize what it might be like if I hadn’t sliiiiced it up so quickly… At least my dear best friend found it nice.

At least I have her breath in my life…..

TO THE FRUIT!

 

Mess With The Bull – Get The Antlers

March 2, 2016

I’m starting a new job next week.

I’ve been with the same agency for 6 years and now I’ve decided to move on to a new opportunity.

So exciting, right? YES. Yes. y…….es.

But I’m a Taurus, through and through. Predictability. Routine. Change is terrifying, even when the necessity reaches me to the core… I will hide my pride here and say I. Am. Terrified.

My friends and family are psyched, and I smile as I say this is great but inside it’s pretty much the scariest thing I could do. I birthed a human… I grew her and evicted her from my womb with sheer force and lots of pain…. But this is my soft spot. The new. The unknown.

So… Enough of being a wittle scaredy cat. Let’s suit up in the armor of my better Taurus qualities and find the positive things that’ll help me transition into a new journey.

  1. I have the backing of some pretty clear signs that this was right. I had other recent interviews and there was one particular “omen” in the form of an old boss who was a literal nightmare. I felt tainted immediately when I saw her randomly after an interview. But this go around? Some of the coolest and most precious signs I could get. I won’t go into detail except for one, my Grandma. She came to me 6 years ago in a dream to tell me I would get a job at the place I had just interviewed. I did. She came to me last week and here I am. I don’t question her role in my life. I might be scared of the new, but she’s letting me know this was a rad move and all is right.
  2. I will eat my fear in the form of sweet sweet treats. Cupcakes, donuts, whatever… There are a lot of anxieties to eat and who am I to let anxieties fester? I will murder them with icing and glaze. It will be okay.
  3. The agency alone is fucking neat. The people I spoke with were natural and honest. I trust the person who gave me this opportunity and I’ll lean on that aspect more than cupcakes because I have a waistline to keep in check. AMIRITE.
  4. Lastly… I was home with Corina when I got the call that they’d love to have me. We were dancing and having a good time when I picked up the phone. I took the news in excited stride and hung up. The song playing at the time was perfect:

This is indeed a new ride. And I will not only fall graciously into the unknown but I will fall with sheer determination. Will I make mistakes? Yes. Will I learn from them? More Yes. Will I grow, laugh, live, try, fail, try harder, look dazed, send gifs randomly in email? Of course.

So, I guess what I mean by all of this is…. Allow me to take the bull by the horns…cough…the Antlers.

This Girl’s Life Eating Grapes in Marvin’s Room While Writing in Her Basketball Diaries.

February 29, 2016

BBallDiaries

A few life friends of mine can vouch for the obsession and constant acting boner I have for Leo DiCaprio.

My mom can vouch for the endless VHS search of his lesser known roles (This Boy’s Life was the hardest to find, followed by Marvin’s Room).

My walls still linger with the ghosts of his Teen Bop posters.

I cried when I didn’t get to do my 6th grade power point presentation on him and I didn’t cry when my boyfriend at the time broke up with me because I loved Leo more (that boyfriend recently robbed a pizza hut with a gas tank or something… So I won.)

I was a girl and loved Leo, he’s adorbs.. I mean seriously. But beyond the teeny bop obsession is the first person who told me I was an actress. And what it meant to balance so many feelings and experiences in one person.

Not to my face, no. But through every role he played.

I was way too young watching Basketball Diaries in my Pine’s Apartment home. I wasn’t supposed to be learning about excessive drug use, prostitutes or skipping class. And for reasons of my own, secrets of my own, that movie helped me understand a part of my journey at a crucial time in my life.

Around that same too young of age, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape fell into my lap and carved its way into my heart. I’ve always been sensitive, I’ve always balanced the deep sadness of witnessing a life that wasn’t given as wholly as mine and the joy you can still give them even if they don’t think or live like you do. And while I related too seriously to Depp’s character (way too young), it was Leo who showed me the power of living someone else’s life. The vulnerability of absorbing yourself around those that aren’t like you and taking their experience and wearing the mask so seamlessly. I can barely write about this movie without crying, the impact it had on me will always shine bright.

Anyone who knows me understands the dynamic I have with my family. And if you’re close, you know what my grandmother meant to me…means to me. Marvin’s Room was a window into that teenage life of battling the emotions that come with growing up. I was given a glimpse into what my mom was possibly thinking and feeling, being a single mom with kids and struggling with who she was as her own person. And it gave me the hardest peek at what it meant to lose someone, to watch them deteriorate. I was given the gift of not watching my own grandma wither away before she left us, but when I think of Marvin in the room…watching those colors on the wall…I think of the love I have for her and the constant, cold ache her absence leaves me with.

And lastly, even though I’ve seen every one of his movies and it kills me to cut this list off here, This Boy’s Life prepared me for a moment I didn’t think I would live… The story centers on a boy and his mom, how she found someone to take care of them, and that man turned out to be an abusive asshole. As I watched someone I admire take on the role of a young kid, a teenager, who is suddenly responsible for getting his mother out of an abusive situation I had no clue it would put a spark in my soul that would lend itself to quick thinking to help someone I loved in the same situation.

Leo doesn’t know me, probably won’t ever know me… But he should know what each of his choice in roles did for my life growing up. I giggled and blushed at his looks…but I grew as a person as he grew in his career and he supplied me with the emotional range I would need to conquer many aspects of my life.

Last night was a long time coming for him. But in my world, he didn’t get an Oscar for The Revenant… he got an Oscar for giving me invaluable strength, not only in my actress soul but in my real life.

Made Ya Look.

November 5, 2015

On the daily I have battles with different Erika’s in my head. Future Erika, yesterday Erika, hungry Erika, drunk Erika…lots of Erika’s. But this morning I had the fortune of reuniting with 6th grade Erika, and boy, was she fun.

The problem is, while she was fun, nobody knew that’s what was happening and I’ve given at least one poor soul something to ponder on today.

Allow me to set the scene:

I was on the train, I had just sat down after squirming between the shoulders of two men that I am now perched below. They are deep in conversation when I notice that one of them has a very much untied shoe. Maybe it’s the mom in me, maybe I didn’t want to read a Buzzfeed article about a young man who lost a leg on an escalator, but my immediate impulse was to alert him to this tiny issue that could lead to a spectrum of troubles.

So…how could this go so wrong?

Have you thought about telling another adult, “Your shoe is untied” without immediately thinking “Made ya look!”

And thus, a completely unsuspecting girl cracked up laughing on the train. Alone. I couldn’t stop. People noticed. The man still had an untied shoe.

It took a few minutes to really get myself under control but once I did I couldn’t help but think, but his shoe is still untied.

Does an adult tell another adult that their shoe is untied? Does a stranger tell another stranger that their shoe is untied? I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW PROTOCOL! I ALSO DON’T KNOW THAT I CAN TELL HIM HIS SHOE IS UNTIED WITHOUT SAYING I MADE YOU LOOK. Or worse, not even getting that part out and just laughing wild eyed.

I wish it had been a short shoe lace but the thing literally looked like an ankle noose, just waiting for someone to step on it or a train door to close on it. I had a responsibility here. I had a life in a my hands. If I could just stop giggling.

In the end, I managed to sheepishly say “Excuse me” *far reach to lightly touch his hand because apparently touching his thigh would have been wrong* “Your shoe is untied.”

Bite cheek.

Avert eyes.

His shoe is tied.

I’m a hero.

Not To Be Overly, Irrationally, Emotionally, Stupidly Girly But…

October 13, 2015

You’re a fucking asshat, Sir.

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I knew this article would be vomitous before I took a bite. And just to be clear, the following phrase will not be used in this post, “I’m not even a huge feminist but…” Because not only does it dictate that being a feminist is something to be ashamed of but it comes from the same place of “I don’t mean to be sexist but…”…and in case you’re confused, the place phrases like that come from are stupid and sequitur to saying something normally ill informed therefore creating an asshat out of you.

For reference, this article is about T.I. saying a woman can’t be president…and it’s more likely that a mythical creature would gain entry into the office before a woman would. I literally laughed out loud writing that, it’s fucking hilarious…He’s so shitty.

I know T.I. means nothing to our political coupling coming up next year, and while he’s an ignorant human being, it’s not him I have a problem with. It’s not him that I fear. It’s who he influences. It’s who looks at another man saying these things and decides they agree with him and reiterates and thus causes a chain gang of stupid, stupid, stupid words.

Before we continue, here are his words:

“Just because, every other position that exists, I think a woman could do well. But the president? It’s kinda like, I just know that women make rash decisions emotionally – they make very permanent, cemented decisions – and then later, it’s kind of like it didn’t happen, or they didn’t mean for it to happen. And I sure would hate to just set off a nuke. [Other leaders] will not be able to negotiate the right kinds of foreign policy; the world ain’t ready yet. I think you might be able to the Lochness Monster elected before you could [get a woman].”

Blink. Blink.

Before we continue, here are all the “very permanent, cemented decisions” he’s done as a man…

  1. Manufacturing and Distributing crack cocaine (irrational, illegal)
  2. Battery of Law Enforcement Officer (violent, irrational or rash)
  3. Probation Violation (irrational, ignorant)
  4. Purchase and Possession of Automatic Firearms (violent)
  5. Possession of Controlled Substance (irrational, illegal)

And those are just on the record. I don’t know him personally but I’m thinking he’s not the best contender to speak about who should be president and why someone can’t. Especially if that can’t is simply that SHE HAS A VAGINA and that a vagina and the choices it can make are scary to him.

The issue is this:

A man does not get to say a woman is irrational and that her choices as a person can’t be trusted because she has emotions. I have two holes in my apartment walls because of irrational emotions from a man. And that’s a very, very minor example of how men act irrationally (no matter how they justify their actions), based on emotion or the compression of. Women are more apt to express emotion in our daily lives but that does not mean we’re risks for positions of power. Someone please ask Obama the last time he didn’t feel something and base his actions on it during his Presidency. You think he’ll fist bump T.I. and say, “True brah?”. NO. Because T.I., you, you over there, her, and me- we have no fucking clue what it’s like to truly be president and what he bases his reactions on. Not to mention, when a woman is President she’s not entering the rodeo a lone cowgirl ready to pop her period pistol all over the fucking White House, just like our current male President isn’t. There is a cabinet of advisors, you stupid twat.

T.I., you’re just a dumb shart they couldn’t keep your butthole of a mouth closed long enough to think about what you were saying or how to apply your own life to negate your thoughts.

There is no truth to a woman being too emotional to run the Presidential office and if I’m really being real: Loch Ness is considered a girl, you stupid ass. So you pretty much said there’s no chance a woman will be president but a woman mythical creature can be….Further stating how dumb you are.

 

*Rant Mic Dropped*

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