I think I must be the most boring person I know....i actually don't even believe that because I think I would have fun with me if I weren't me but this whole blog thing is enough to make you feel a little wobbly. I just don't understand how there can be thousands and thousands of people on this blog world and no one wants to talk to me except 1 or 2 people?
come on folks. Have you been talking to my in-laws. None of it's true. lies. all of them.
I've given you presents and hugs and baked goods.....GIVE ME COMMENTS!
oK, so I guess in order to give me comments you have to have a post that has something to comment on besides a glittery porch wreath and some toddlers......
ummm...
shooot.
um.
Oh, ok...when I was about 7 or 8 or 9 or something I used to ride the school bus and it let me out about 1/4 of a mile from my house along side a highway called 17. The road was lined with corn crops but there was a wide dirt path that ran between the asphalt and the corn. That is where I walked. The problem was that every single day it seemed I had this amazing need to pee when I got off the school bus. I don't remember her name very well but I know that she was the grandma of my older sibling's friends and she lived in this two story house that was mint green on the south corner of the bus dropoff. She had shrubs. I peed in them. Now I don't know if it's just my personality or my astrological sign or my mental illness but I think that if I wanted to, I could probably be pretty secretive and sneaky. I think I can figure things out pretty well and that I'm pretty smart.
I had a mission companion who used to walk down the street and poop her pants and grab her crotch while she peed and when she let go her whole dress would be wet and I was like, um, hermana Lunn....you take the next adobe shack? what? I don't think so. I was like, ok missy, step your smelly self aside while I do the work for two people and try to fix this first impression we've just made of being homeless, unattractive, white cotton sock wearing incontinent American Mormons. Anyway, this girl who was completely off the deep end crazy was talking to me one night and she was like, "the problem is that I'm just really, really intelligent and that's why I don't have very many friends. I was always the best in school and could learn extrememly fast." It was in this moment that I thought to myself, "am I the Hermana Lunn of my own life?" am I dillusional? Do I look homeless and smell like poop and move like a sloth in the fast lane?
Well, it turned out that I was dillusional because one day, Sharon (who is my mom) comes to me and she's like, "Erin, miss what's her face down the road called me and told me that you've been peeing in her bushes. you have to stop that." okey-dokey...that was awkward. How could this be? How did she know since I'm this amazingly clever 7 year old scorpio, fire dragon ,future social anxiety suffering welbutrin popping genius?
I think we all know the answer to that question.
I seem to be figuring this out a little at a time here. I actually am not all that. I am actually not the smartest person or the cutest person or the most talented person or the person who deserves things just because I was born. Did you all know this the whole time and you never told me? This is a hard truth people.....some might say it's even inconvenient...the truth of this. I am just a girl. It's not a huge mystery why I never had a boyfriend until I was 18 and he was a dork. I had that amazingly gigantic wake up call at age 7 and another chance in a steamy, pee smelling missionary room to realize that folks can figure me out! CRAP! I ACTUALLY AM DILLUSIONAL!
this is very bad.
I hereby promise that I will not pee in any of your bushes and I will not have an underlying notion that I am the shiz any more. Wait! This is not a sad moment. This is a moment of clarity. So far I'm about 24 years behind so by the time my kids are married I will be a good mom and by the time my husband is bald and blind I will be a good eternal companion (at least eternity will be a little closer by then).
So that's the skinny folks. That can go safely in your list of reasons why you always knew I was totally and competely normal (in a not normal but not extraordinary either kind of a way)
happy holidays.
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13 comments:
When I was about 10ish, I remember walking with my dad and he was pontificating about life. "Cindy," he said, "sometimes you might wonder if you're retarded and you're friends are just being nice to you." I think that was his way of telling me some hidden truth.
Here's a little something I think you might like: PARDON ME
your post reminds me of that awesome feeling i get when i stop worrying about my every action starting a ripple effect that will turn into the typhoon that ends the world.
phew.
peace.
and while i support you in holding onto peace and perspective i still think YOU ARE ALL THAT.
xo,
Raquel
cindy- parents have that weird way of making you wonder what they're saying, huh?
oooweee...that's what it feels like all right. Thanks, Raquel
I used to do things like that, too. It's pretty embarrassing. Oh well.
You're not all that bad. You're actually pretty fantastic.
Amy
Um, Erin, ask yourself this question ... do you put out when it comes to comments?
Ha, ha ... that's funny. I just labeled myself a comment slut.
oh erin, I do actually believe you are a super genius and could never in a whole weekend in Vegas even once be boring. that being said, I know exactly what you mean. exactly.
okay, I get the whole comment thing... it is like you are standing up all alone on open mike night and the only other person in the bar is your friend that you dragged there and your parents (not that these are not worthy audience members) or you are at a poetry reading and you finish reading and you are the only one snapping your fingers... audience, people I need my audience. Well, at least all of us that stalk you on your blog and love to read erin in all her naked reality but then don't say anything at the end other than just sit in awe thinking, "wow, I wish I could come up with something interesting like that to say on my blog." Followed by the inevitable writers block when it comes to commenting due to the tongue-tied awe as I have afore mention. Please forgive the lack of comments. Will be better.
Angela
I don't even know you, but I honestly believe that you do deserve things just because you were born. Because if you don't, then neither do I, and I'm just not ready to have my reality rocked with that knowledge at this moment in time.
I can't believe you peed in your neighbor's bushes. That's rad.
What do you want from England?
thanks people....way to comment!
Cindy...hmmm...um, I think I want a key chain. a really great key chain.
I know my comments are a bit late, but I hope one day to have lots of bushes and trees and stuff that you could pee in. I won't mind. But if you need to take a dump I only ask that you dig a hole far from the house and be discreet.
oh, don't you worry...I haven't stooped so low as to not dig a hole yet.
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