Let's Go Cry At Starbucks Together

What people talk about at Starbucks fascinates me. (Not like what I am doing is any less off at the moment). I am currently reading a book called "Giving Up The Ghost- A story about friendship, 80s rock, a lost scrap of paper, and what it means to be haunted". So, I'm pretty sure other people have thier own ideas about me.

Currently the two guys next to me are seemingly having a therapy session. One of them is gay (he has been talking about his past relationships). The other guy, doesn't talk at all.

The guy talking, lets call him Randy (because that looks plausible) has not stopped talking or smoking clove cigarettes for the past 20 mins. If I was dating someone who chain smoked cloves I would break up with them too, but I digress.

In the past 20 mins he has cried twice. He talked about at least 3 past relationships. He spoke about his fear of an impending tital wave that will wipe out Miami. (Scary). He spoke about his former suicidal thoughts as a teenager. He has spoken about how he is concerned his cat is the love of his life and he will never find love like that. (I hope this other guy he is with is not on a date with him). He mentioned drug use and then broke down crying, bit his fist and said it was just so hard to talk about this stuff to a complete stranger, and how he feels so comfortable talking to him.

Weird. I wonder if he just started talking to the guy at the table next to him. And it turned into a disaster. Poor non-talking guy.

Randy obviously has some issues.

As I am writing this, the two men just got up to leave. Randy wipes the last tear off his face, shakes the guy's hand and says "Thanks for letting me vent" and turns to get to his car and drives away. The other guy says nothing.

The possibility of how these two came to talk about Randy's life are endless. I'm pretty sure they don't know each other.

What is it about Starbucks- or coffee, chairs and tables outdoors that makes you want to talk to people? I know I have cried at Starbucks countess times for reasons way less severe than Randy's. At one point I wanted to go up to Randy and give him a hug. I didn't because Randy seemed particularly obnoxious and I didn't want to give off the impression that I wanted to talk. Although, his doomsday fears would probably make a good blog post.

Maybe I'm feeling extra sympathetic today because I am having a hard time myself and just finished reading Jaycee Duggard's "A Stolen Life" which is horrific. Her experience was so bad that I even bought a pinecone necklace to help support her foundation.

I'm probably admitting I'm going through a hard time right now cause I am drinking tea at Starbucks- FML. I am Randy and Randy is me.

Oh, I have recently become obsessed with Pinterest. I am attaching a picture of a joke that kept me laughing so hard I cried. No one else seems to get it, but I think it's amazing. Just think back into Math classes in middle school and high school, and tell me this didn't happen to you.

Nothing but Quality

My grandfather died a few days ago, August 13th to be exact. He was 92, a WW II vet who lived a long and good life. It was a cool ceremony- 21 gun salute (not 21 guns which I thought was pretty disappointing, only 4), they played taps, the soldiers were nice.

My grandparents lived in Lebanon, PA- which is where I am staying now for his funeral. Lebanon is an interesting place. Pretty, close to Amish lands, lots of corn and soy fields nearby etc. I remember coming here for my grandma's funeral and my boyfriend and I driving around and passing a gas station that advertised that they sold "live bait"- without a nearby body of water for at least 1-2 hours drive in any direction. So yeah, weird town.

There is one hotel, the Quality Inn. Everyone is nice, and thoughtful. At night there are bunnies running around over the hotel's courtyard. My question is what the f is going on in the room next door to mine?

If you can't tell by the picture, the light is on and there is a matress blocking the view of the inside of the room. They could close the blackout curtains if they wanted privacy... But taking the matress off the bed to the opposite wall?

I included a picture of the bunny- mostly because who doesn't love a good bunny pic?

Was that you?

It just wouldn't be me if I didn't have at least one post entirely about farts. Here are a few of my all time favorites:

- I was walking to my appartment in Brooklyn with a friend of mine. We approached a very business looking guy with a long coat listening to his headphones. (I am laughing histerically as I type this out) We approach the guy from behind waiting for an opportunity to cross the street. It had never been more quiet outside in the streets of Brooklyn. My friend and I stop being him, he farts. Loud and long. My face turns to utter shock, I am about to burst out in laughter. Then the guy lets out a loud and short follow up fart. I am about to spontaneously combust. I turn to my friend, his face is classic. His face is surprised yet also shows a hint of concern that I will not be able to handle the situation. I begin to laugh out loud. The guy turns around and looks at us, obviously embarrassed. I look at my friend to hold my laughter in, my friend looks at the guy, shrugs his shoulders as if to say "It happens to the best of us man". The guy practically runs across the street. I immediately start crying at the whole exchange- it's like it was too funny to bother laughing I had to skip to the tears of laughter. I recall my freshman year in college, 2 days after moving to New York and a friend I had met was sitting with me outside our dorm. He turns to me and says- "New York is great, it probably the only place in the world you can fart on the street unnoticed." The guy in Brooklyn was obviously a repeat offender to not have looked back to see if anyone was behind him before he farted. He was caught and I didn't stop laughing/crying for at least an hour.

- Some farts aren't funny. This story still bothers me. At work we have a valet for the building. I Valeted my car in the morning. When I give him the ticket to retrieve my car, he drives I back to me with all the windows open (odd). I step into my car and was overwhelmed by the smell of fart...almost like he had sharted in my car. He knew he did it, the windows were down, I knew he did it- but at this point there is nothing I can do about it. I can't get out of the car and wait I out, that would be embarrassing for him. So instead I am forced to drive away smelling in his farts. As a valet, I'm pretty sure it's understood that you fart on the way to the car and not in it. That was unacceptable. He didn't get a tip from me for a week after that one.

-I believed this has happened at least once to everyone of age. The inevitable sex fart. I'm not talking queefs, I'm talking about getting into having sex with someone and someone farts. This has happened to a partner of mine. Maybe a cooler, more mature girl can handle it. I cannot. If we are going to get down, you cannot fart. If I hear it, I will not be able to stop laughing. That's it for you. I wont describe who or how, but it's happened and I know it was bad for the guy. Nothing worse than a girl laughing at you uncontrollably, when you are naked and shutting all doors to the possibility. Sorry man, leave your farts at the door.

-My friend and I were in her kitchen late at night. She was talking all night about how her mom had made some awesome pie and she hoped her brothers didn't eat it all before she came home. Basically, we came home early for the pie. There was one slice left, and i have never before or since seen her so excited. She takes a slice and puts it on a paper plate. She takes one bite holding the pie with her hands and then drops it on the floor. We both start laughing incredibly hard. She then farts in her laughter. I'm already laughing so hard the fart puts me over the edge and I peed my pants. Good times.

- When I was about 16 or so I was the state representative to a steering committee for a young religious Unitarian group. I was in a steering committee meeting that had been going on for at least an hour. We were in a small room, people were sitting on the floor, sofas and the occasional chair. Here we are talking about serious issues...and then came the fart. No one laughed, we kept discussing the issues at hand. Everyone had assumed it was a chair on the linoleum floor. About a solid minute later, the wacky kinda funny guy interrupts the conversation and said "Excuse me that was me". It was like he farted, waited to see if it smelled, then when he discovered it did, he decided to own up to it. It was hilarious. He was so calm and straight forward. Everyone in the room had a good laugh... The laugh lasted about 1-2 minutes. I just could not stop laughing, it just kept replaying in my head. I would calm down and then start back up again. Long story short, I was asked to leave the meeting about 30 minutes later.

I'm sorry folks, I can't help it. There is nothing funnier to me than farts. The noise, the smell, the embarrassment, the who did it aspect, the admission from the culprit, the various victims. It's all just too funny. And yes, my friends and family are frequently embarrassed by my immaturity regarding this issue.

Fifty Shames of Earl Grey by Andrew Shaffer

This book is hilarious. I really needed to laugh the past few days and this is definitely working.

If you read the Fifty Shades of Grey series, you have to read this. I'm not sure it would be as funny if you didn't read the series though.

The book goes through the exact plot of Fifty Shades but slowly Earl Grey uncovers his fifty shames...one of which is that he is a Dungeon Master and into D&D role play in the bedroom. If that isn't enough to get you to read the book, I don't know what is.

Other things this book makes fun of:
Jersey Shore
Twilight
Nickleback
White Trash

Love it so far. There are definitely highs and lows, but the highs are really funny.

Making myself feel better

There is complicated stress and uncomplicated stress in my opinion. These two types of stress determine what books I am going to read.

I just returned from Barnes and Noble for my bi-monthly book run. I am a person who seems to be always stressed. I take pills for this as well as try home remedies such as baths and reading.

Uncomplicated stress is usually the type where I can take on a complicated book or series of books. That type of stress is, for example, I hate my boss but am going to stay at my job anyway, or I'm gaining weight, or I had a fight with a friend or boyfriend but everything will be fine in the end stress. For this type of stress you read "The House of Leaves" or take on "The Storm of Ice and Fire" series.

Complicated stress warrants lighter reading. Reading with a maximum of
5 characters and everything is going to be good in the end. Stories that make you laugh, David Sedaris books, or stories that are predictable yet are easy to read, Harriet Evans books.

Right now I am in a period of complicated stress. What am I going to do with my life type of stress. (It's much worse than I am prepared to describe on this blog). So, I must admit readers, I bought another Harriet Evans book. However, I am not going to read it yet.

My book choices today were hopeful. I bought 4 books, 2 uncomplicated and 2 complicated. I am hoping by the time I finish "Fifty Shames of Earl Grey" (a spoof book off the Fifty Shades series and the Harriet Evans book that my stress level will be down enough, or at least leave me in a place of hopelessness that I can take on the complicated books. One was the story of Jaycee, the girl that got kidnapped , and a story of a guy that went to a mental institution for seeing ghosts. (Just an FYI- I have an irrational fear of ghosts).

At least the last two may serve to make
me feel better in that horrible schadenfreude way. That's terrible and I am a terrible person... But sometimes you have to do what you can to keep going.

I leave you with this random image of a thing I found in my desk. It's a gooey fake boob that had a lump in it and
an example of a lump that can only e detected by a mammogram. I preformed surgery at work on this boob and now it is lump free.

Calling 911

I have called 911 exactly 2 times in my life. The first time was in New York and some old lady at the local deli was lying on the floor. I was trying to get a bagel to get to class. I realized, mostly because she was staring right at me, that I was going to have to get involved. There were 2 store employees helping her up. She was crying. (When old people cry it’s the saddest thing in the whole world). I asked they people there “Is everything ok?” to which they responded “Yes, she does this all the time.” She was staring at me asking me to please call 911. The store people said not to. I didn’t want to turn down a crying old lady, so I said “Ok”. I called, I told 911 the situation. I gave them my name and the address of the deli. I finally got my bagel and I went to school.

The second time I called, I was in NY with friends of mine from out of town. We were next to a park and it was late at night. We had been drinking, and my friend didn’t feel like walking around the park to go home. NY closes some of their parks at night for safety. I insisted my friend walk around the park, he said ok and then jumped the fence. We all had to at this point to follow him. We crossed the very scary park and saw one bench lit by one street lamp. There was a guy standing up in front of another man on his knees. It looked like he was holding a gun to his head. They were arguing. So, we decided to run the rest of the way across the park. We finally got out and sat on the steps of my apartment discussing what we saw. I decided to call 911 and let them know. When I called, they said “Hello, Ms. *****, how can I help you?”. I was PISSED. I don’t want 911 to know my name. I don’t want to call them in a personal emergency and have them say “What is it now Erin?”. I told them the situation and hung up.

There may have been one more time that I called, but I don’t remember. On CNN today, there is a link to a 911 call where a guy called 911 asking them to please pick him up and take him to the store to buy beer. When they said they don’t do that, he asked ok can you please go the store and bring beer back to him. That’s pretty funny if you ask me. Interestingly enough though, the 911 operator didn’t know his name. Why do they only know me?

Wash Your Face Or You WILL Die

Readers, if you are touching your face right now…STOP..immediately. Apparently a man died in South Carolina by the flesh eating disease necrotizing fasciitis, most likely because the bacteria entered his body through a pimple. That is a really really shitty way to die. Not only do you go through the embarrassment of having a pimple at age 55 to begin with, your flesh all of your body then gets eaten by it. This, my friends, is what nightmares are made of. Any teenagers reading? Get ProActive today.

Another terrible death:

My cat murdered my frogs. For about a year I had 2 of those controversial water frogs that you can buy at Hallmark. They lived in a plastic case with a bamboo plant, rocks and water. We fed them once a week. Fry and Leela, the frogs, lived happily in their confined cube for almost two years until we got a kitten. Oh man, this is where it gets bad. We have a loft apartment, so there are no doors on our bedrooms and everything is open air, so basically the cat had access upstairs and downstairs. Neither of us, me and the bf, had ever seen the cat go upstairs since she was a small kitten with a broken leg. Just in case, we put the frogs on the highest dresser on the top floor. (We couldn’t lock them in the bathrooms as the frogs needed sunlight to survive). Please, imagine being the frogs in this situation. All of a sudden and enormous alien-looking creature starts staring at you through the fish-eye type glass. The creature is massive in comparison to your size. She probably hisses bad kitten breath on you. Then slowly starts pushing your living space little by little causing your water to shake. The frogs are probably looking at each other scared at this point. Then finally, the kitten makes her last push and the frogs watch each other and their home fall about 7 feet to a crash landing on the floor. They are no longer in water. Their tree and rocks are all over the place. They are both suffocating from lack of water. Then the alien monster cat returns and eats one of the frogs, right in front of the other one. Hopefully, the frogs are dead on impact but doubtful. Then the kitten goes to eat the last frog. How terrifying. It was hard to love my cat that day. We came home and went upstairs only to find a tragic murder scene. All the evidence of the crash landing was there, but not the bodies. Only one drop of blood around the corner in the apartment was all we could find. It could be the frog’s but most likely the cat cut itself on a piece of plastic. She was upstairs lying by the crime scene taking a nap. Sociopath.