Laundry Day.

Faith Overcomes Every Obstacle

Meet Faith. See the awesome healing powers of booze. It's a miracle.

And further proof that alcohol makes you a dick.

Allergies Attack My Life!

It came out of nowhere. I was fine and watching Pregnant in Heels, and then BOOM! I can't breathe and my eye balls are gonna pop out and I am actively trying to gouge my sinus cavity. Allergy attacks make me look like a have a trout pout and a lazy eye. Sweetheart went to the store to get me medicines after midnight! This won him like, 3,816 best boyfriend points, and everybody knows you need that many to trade in for the good stuff. Less than that and you are stuck with Chinese finger traps and bulk candy from Oriental Trading. This is after a Singulair, a Zyrtec, and two Benedryl. I'm a drugged pollinated mess! Someone help my allergy woes!

I'm Not Loving It.

A few days ago, I got really REALLY pissed at Time Warner (because they are a rude, blood sucking, monopoly with stupid employees with bad attitudes), and canceled our service.

Direct TV is awesome.

We are still waiting on our new Verizon powered internet.

I tried to hook up my computer to a human-size hamster wheel, a phone jack, and a candle, but it didn't make internet. So I wait.

I am at a McDonald's right now for McWiFi. I have witnessed 3 fights involving the same drunk homeless man, the cops coming, an employee who shit in the bathroom for 42 minutes while the security man beat on the door (he thought he died) and a long line of angry customer formed, a gang of teenagers knock things over, and lots of questionable characters eating the Fish Filet special. I think they are only playing Taylor Swift and John Mayer songs.

This is what it must have been like in the old days!

My Little Apocalypse Pony

It's about to get real, My Little Death Ponies!

Sometimes things aren't what they seem. I am, of course, using this as a loose metaphor to compare people to My Little Ponies. As I feel like I am back on the elementary playground with all the secrets and fair-weathered friendships, I suppose a toy is an appropriate comparison. Like how they were once cute bathtub companions that filled Barbie's stall, and out of no where, they are evil creatures with no compassion or care for the feelings of others. My Little Spawns of Death! (I'm looking at the mid-to-late half of my mid-to-late 20's, I am old enough to embellish a bit.) What was once rainbows and glitter is now forgotten words and not getting invited to the sleep over flashbacks. So dumb. So enlightening. So hurtful. So boring. I really did like those cute little equines! C'est la vie.

Mad Haters and the Hare

Sometimes I feel like this. A tired rabbit mask person just trying to catch the carrot.

You think you have people in this world, friend people, to help swing the carrot in your direction, but it turns out they don't want to help you. They wanted to hop around with you when you had lots of carrots or when they thought they could have your carrot or when they felt sad and needed someone to make them feel better about their carrots. Then they drop you, say mean spirited things about you, and share their carrots with someone else. These friend people suck.

Well, fuck that and fuck them! When you get stuck in a carrot chasing rut, you just gotta get your shit together long enough to put things into perspective, like this little furry friend!

There are so many things for which to be thankful. I am lucky in so many ways. And I don't really like most of the dummies I let get me down, so that's silly! If that carrot is out of reach, fine! Grab something else. You'll get the carrot eventually. And when you feel like a sad rabbit, relax and give yourself a hand... to metaphorically bitch slap the haters!

Haters make me famous.

Buh-Bye, Valentine!

I, for one, had a pretty shitty Valentine's. Sweetheart and I got in a huge fight over something so stupid I refuse to even admit it on here. I was sure we were thisclose to hating each other forever. We have since worked it out, as you do when you have a stoopit disagreement, but I would still like to put this month of loveyshit out to pasture. Here are some sayonara V-day treats!

These Valentine's are pretty apropos. They are cute, but, bet you me, you don't wanna spend your V-day with a monster. They are super jealous and surprisingly needy.

This is more like it... until he eats your brains. You could trick him into eating your Sweetheart's brains, but as you are mad at him and not convinced that he has any, it's best to steer clear of handsome rose-bearing zombies.

I find that after this Valentine's Day massacre, it's best to carry on into March like it never happened!

Valentine's Day 2011, get the fuck outta my face!

Super Bowl Redux

Trademarks are expensive.

After the accident?

True.

Total Eclipse of the Eclipse

Tonight was 'The Last Time Before The World Ends In 2012 Lunar Eclipse'. Exciting, right?! The next will be in 2014. For the cockroaches, bedbugs, and mole people.

A full lunar eclipse coupled with the winter solstice? NASA reports that the last time these astronomical events took place in sync was on Dec. 21, 1638, and it won't happen again until at least 2094. Naturally, I was stoked. I am even home in the country, where you can see stars and UFOs and whatnot.

Welp, it's cloudy. Super cloudy. So me and brotherbear watched it stream on the interweb while talking about the legend of Slender Man. (Which only scares me because he's scared by it. The more you look for Slender Man, the more he looks for you. And the collective belief in him make him real. You paranoia yourself nutty! Seriously, research this thing. Watch some videos. Then try to fall asleep without thinking about it. Peeping around trees and looking in windows and dunking under the door frame. Fuck. That is one slender man!)

So the eclipse was eclipsed by clouds? Does that make it more special? Did the moon get shy? Are the clouds attention seeking bullies? Did Slender Man do it? Was it all a Truman Showesque ruse to allow brotherbear and me bonding time? Oh, what to make of it all?!?!

In summary, the moon is not real.

It's So Hard...

When you're rich and famous you are the dominant force in a relationship, even if you try hard not to be. I've talked of sacrificing everything for Fleetwood Mac, but I realize now that it is simply the only thing I've ever wanted to do.

-Stevie Nicks

Sing it, Siren Sister! Being an artist person is hard. It's what I eat, sleep, breathe, preach, and love the most. Sometimes it makes everything else confusing and hard and complicated. I just want to do what I love always! You know?

Lily White Gangsta

Now, the terribly terrible part of the weekend. Saturday night, after all day Quidditching, Sweetheart and I went to the Bronx for his Mami's birthday. We headed home late, taking a cab from the Bronx to 125th on the east side. There, we can catch the M60 bus right over the Triborough Bridge (literally, one stop) and be home. If the cab crosses the bridge, they charge you the toll there and back, and more just to be dicks, making your cab ride jump from $20 something to $40-$50 something. So, the bus is the best option. We are poor.

We were at the bus stop around 2 or 3 in the morning. Sure, it's late. And sure, it's Spanish Harlem... but it's not bad. And the stop is in front of a super well lit 24 hour grocery. And lots of traffic and people. And we have done it many times.

We were in the middle of the block. To our right was an empty corner. To the left was a busy intersection where all the cabs were turning.

Since it was late, the bus wasn't running as frequently. This was terrible. We were exhausted and cold. Then lots of sirens started happening. Police cars were rushing around, but we couldn't see where. I started to feel funny, but just chalked it up to exhaustion.

Then people started gathering at the empty end of the block. I assumed it was an evacuation from a fire. You know, sirens and a sudden mob of people. I almost walked down there to see if it was a fire. I figured it would make me feel better if I confirmed the sirens purpose.

Next, some teenage girls across the street were acting weird. These teen boys right across from us (who I had given the judgemental stink eye because I assumed they were hoodlums) were telling them to 'go' and 'get out of here' and the girls were resisting and rushing to go at the same time. Weird.

We decided we couldn't wait any longer and we should just walk up to the busy intersection to get a cab. Just as we started walking, pops started happening. I thought it was a car backfiring, but it kept happening. 'Oh, this is what gunshots sound like!' I suppose I had only ever heard them from afar during hunting season in North Carolina. It sounds different. Once this clicked in my head, I made the fight or flight decision to run behind the grocery store. A large scary man stopped me an said, 'They are shooting over here. Get in my van.'

The kids across the street (that's right, the hoodlums) were shooting into the crowd of people down the block. The crowd I almost walked into. Right by where we were standing 10 seconds before.

Suddenly my brain had a chance to rationalize the situation. I looked up and saw people running into the traffic of the busy intersection. I froze when I realized my options were to Frogger through traffic, run towards the gunshots, or get into a large scary strangers rape murder van. I stood there and turned in circles for at least forever (probably a few seconds). Finally, Sweetheart pulled me to the van and told me to get in.

Sweetheart later told me he had recognized the man. He always parks there to give people a ride home once they have their groceries. I did not know this. Stranger danger.

I told the man to take us home. I didn't care the cost. We crossed the bridge and got out right off the exit. As I still wasn't sure if he was going to kill us or not, as soon as I got one foot on the ground I had a full out panic attack.

Sweetheart, from the Bronx, tried to tell me it wasn't a big deal and we were safe and he wouldn't let anything happen to me. I gently wailed that I was not ok with that happening, I do not want it to be normal to me, and I will need grabbed and thrown to safety should it ever happen again.

I still feel very weird about the whole ordeal. I mean, really? A gun fight? Fuck NO!

We are safe. We will not be going to that bus stop for a little while. Because it's terrifying.

And my street cred has shot (errr... uhm. yeah.) though the roof. Gangsta, and whatnot.

10 Years Later, Who Are You?

Kirk Mason, 'Kirky', is one of my favorite people in the whole world. If I had to pick someone to be stuck in a horrible or good or sad or happy or challenging or funny situation with, one that had no foreseeable end, I would totally ask him to come with me! We share very similar backgrounds, brains, senses of humor, ideas, and beliefs. We help each other find perspective. We have young clean hearts. We play. He makes me laugh.

We both had 10 year high school reunions this year. His class was asked to send in pictures for slide shows depicting what you have been up to for the past 10 years and where you are now.

(My class didn't do this. Some of the boys club that stayed in NC played golf. We had gross food and no DJ. I was one of the 5 people who danced to the ipod. Apparently my parents 30 year high school reunion the same weekend was more hip.)

(Furthermore, I found the whole reunion to be less than I had imagined it to be. Partially because of the boys club friendly planning and general disinterest of the attendees, but also I blame Facebook. No one was truly excited to see their long lost classmates or surprised by what they were doing with their lives. It's like, 'Oh hey, I read on Facebook last week that you made a sandwich. How was it?')

Anyhow, Kirk and I were trying to come up with some really perfect trashy fun pictures we could send in for our reunion slide shows (well, my theoretical slide show). I thought I would share a few of my top choices over the next few posts. I think they would really be special featured in my theoretical 'Where Are They Now' 10 Year Reunion Slide show. People with their kids and weddings and ARMY adventures and car repairs and poorly composed vacation shots...

And me!

'Since high school, I've really been interested in finding the strength to stand up to my inner demons and overcome the power they have over me. And bears.'

I Don't Care! I'll Pull Down My Underwear!

I didn't have a single one of these delicious treats this year! And they are my favorite! I went to drug stores and grocery store today for the sale bags. Nope! None for me. LAME.

If you have any laying around, please send to:

Erin McCarson

24-50 28th St #6

Astoria, NY 11102

I will also accept love letters.

I Thought Love Don't Cost a Thing!

Stop wasting my time
You know what I want
You know what I need
Or maybe you don't

Do I have to come right flat out and tell you everything?
Gimme some money

Maura Kelly has Body Issues

Maura Kelly, a blogger for Marie Claire, wrote this article about the show Mike & Molly.

An excerpt:
'So anyway, yes, I think I'd be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other ... because I'd be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room...'

Freedom of speech is one thing, but being cruel and hateful is another. But it's her opinion and it should be taken with a grain of salt and blah blabbity blah blah. If it were about blacks or gays or women being objectified, it wouldn't fly! So how is it acceptable to attack someone solely based on their appearance/weight and non-medical opinion of their health?

Furthermore, fat men and skinny women are portrayed over and over again as couples in media. So, what? It's not gross if it's just the man? Because when it's a big lady with a skinny dude, it is always a sight gag, never as an actual relationship.

Perhaps she wanted to be an actress, but no matter how long she didn't eat, or how many times she purged, it just didn't happen for her. Maybe she's grumpy because she's hungry. Maybe she should attack the show for its poor writing and acting instead of the actors weight. Maybe she's just a bitch.

Later, she posted an apology at the end of her blog and spoke of her lifelong struggle with anorexia.

Boofuckinghoo, Ms. Kelly. You said it yourself, 'I think (insert eating disorder/body image problem) is something that most people have a ton of control over. It's something they can change, if only they put their minds to it.' Well then Judy Judgement, that whole anorexia thing, maybe you should just put your mind to it!

Don't take your years of meals consisting of gummy bears and Dexatrim out on me.

Brain, Brain, Go Away! Little Erin wants to Play!

My head is all a mess.

I can't seem to shake this gloomy, blue, sad, stay-in-bed-and-stop-participating-in-society feeling.

What to do?! Well, blog about it, for one! Who knows, maybe it leads to an answer. I'm willing to take the risk.

I try working out, talking it out, stuffing it, starving it, forgetting it, writing about it, rising above it, sinking below it, drugging it, sleeping it off... everything. I even resorted to seeking advise from my 10 year old friend. Surprisingly, more compassionate and valid than most adults, she still couldn't hit the nail on the head.

Although I am prone to, let's say, strong changes in emotion that affect everyone around me, I can usually shake the negative ones in a few days and hold on to the positive ones for months. As I am obnoxiously aware of myself and the people around me, I am pretty good about pinpointing the problem, using my words to process the feelings, and pushing through to the other side. I have a grasp on the epic disappointment that was the catalyst for the whole shitstorm, the ever present and never present straw that broke this camels back, but can't make my sparkle come back.

Equally frustrating, I am the mothertherapist in my circle of friendfamily. I am never the one you call to grab a drink, giggle over boys, and compare glitter. (Nonetheless, I am quite sure my regaled tales and glitter collection are above par.) I am the one you call when you are going to jump off the bridge. Or when you need someone with you at the cat hospital at 3am. Or when you are too sad and confused. Or when something bad happens. Or when revenge must be had. I need that friend for me now. Hell, I would settle for the grab-a-drink friend. Just someone who is sincere and tries to straighten things out in my brainhole. And who can talk and make sense and see things I can't. I don't know how to convey this or find this, but I need it.

A list of immediate thoughts to help my sanity-

My life would be easier with the following changes:
I am paying for my lifestyle in art alone.
The gym is more fun with easier results.
Food isn't yummy and expensive.
I make more money. Like enough to pay rent, for starters.
I don't have a job that comes home with me every day.
The cat litter doesn't smell so fucking bad ALL the time.
The cats don't tread said litter into my room ALL the time.
Friends are more.
Family is closer.
Relationships are always sparkly.
Babies are easy to have and be responsible for.
Karma comes around.
People aren't so selfish.
I learn to sleep.
I go on a secret dinosaur ride that I never share with anyone.

See, that helped a little. My friend Kirky helps put things into perspective. Not really making me feel any better or resolving anything, just reminding me that everything contains humor and we are going to be alright. We are smart people with strong support systems. And if there were anything else in the whole universe that made us even almost as happy as being an artist person, we are smart enough to have been doing that already. But there isn't. Thusly, we suffer with cause and ambition.

If I could just part the clouds and get back on track...

Are you my hero?

Mope

I have studiously tried to avoid ever using the word 'madness' to describe my condition. Now and again, the word slips out, but I hate it. 'Madness' is too glamorous a term to convey what happens to most people who are losing their minds. That word is too exciting, too literary, too interesting in its connotations, to convey the boredom, the slowness, the dreariness, the dampness of depression.

Tit Tit Pee Poo

Milk Milk

Lemonade

Around the Corner

Fudge is Made