Now, I am not afraid of the naked.  I don’t enjoy seeing naked people, especially the wrinkled and unshaven (it’s not the 80′s…please trim), but I’m not too modest to change in the company of other gym goers.  It’s the sorority girl in me.  You reach a point where you just don’t care.  Boobs are boobs.  Butts are butts…well, at least that’s what I thought.

A butt is a butt until you are face to cheeks with it.  So there I was, bent over securing my tennis shoe when I lifted my head to be met eye level with a bare butt.  We’re talking less than a foot of clean air between my face and her ass crack.  The timing and angle of this encounter had to be one in a million, but unbenounced to her, one of my sculpting classmates was giving me an up-close and way too personal view of her butt.  Yeah, it was all there…cheeks, crack, dimples, hole.

Before I could think, I made a horrified look that involved opening my mouth.  I later realized the consequences that would have incurred if she had merely taken a step backward.  I quickly turned my head and dodged to my right fearing if I popped up too quickly I would make contact with the ass.  I stood up and hugged the lockers as I slipped out of the locker room to safety.  It had been a close encounter with a third eye.

My valentine picked me up and we headed East for our romantic weekend.  Things were off to a great start.  He surprised me with a heart-shaped balloon that read “I Love You,” and a gift card for a local Spa.  I showed my gratitude by buying him Subway from a gas station where we stood behind a 500 pound man with a ponytail.  Cupid’s arrow was on target.

We arrived in town to find an annoying amount of traffic and quickly falling snow.  I could sense my boyfriend was getting frustrated…well, really, it was quite obvious by the sighing, swearing, and yelling that was coming out of his mouth, but I assured him all of the trouble would be worth it once we arrived at our cabin. 

“Do you have chains?” the cabin rental attendant asked my boyfriend.  We didn’t have chains, but we did have a truck with 4 wheel drive.  “You should be okay,” he told us, “but, you may need them if it gets too bad.”  Of course they hadn’t expected snow this weekend.  Of course our cabin was at the highest altitude of the ones they rented. 

The snow didn’t look too bad, but always one to err on the side of caution, my candy coated sweetheart decided we needed to drive in the opposite direction (through the traffic) to find a Wal-Mart where we could purchase chains.  Our friends were four hours behind us and we had plenty of time.  I was excited to get to the cabin and have an intimate dinner before cabin mates arrived.  Though we had eaten some time at the world’s trashiest grocery chain, we still had plenty of time to make it to the cabin and start our weekend. 

“The snow looks like it is stopping,” I said as we started for the cabin.  I was sure our friends would be able to make the journey up hill by car without our help.  If not, we knew we could pick them up in the truck when they arrived. 

After a dark and confusing detour, we found our road and were moving steadily until we reached the bottom of what we could only assume was the path to our cabin.  “Shit, is that car stuck?” my conversation heart asked.  Yep, he was stuck. 

“The cars are all gettin’ stuck, but the four-wheel drives can get up,” a local told us.  We watched as other weekenders put on boots and began walking up the hill with rolling suitcases. 

“I’m not going to take any chances,” my boyfriend said as he hopped out of the truck.  He opened his newly purchased chains and began to fasten them to his tires.  About 4o minutes later (after he was completely wet from snow) he discovered the chains did not fit his tires.  We were just going to have to do without the metallic safety nets.

“Just drive and don’t stop,” we were told as we made our way towards the deadly incline.  We dodged stranded cars and suitcase rollers, but managed to make our way to our cabin…at the very top of the hill.

We had made it! Finally, time for some relaxation.  Oh wait, the driveway was almost as steep as the main road and it was covered in snow. 

Five trips and 40 minutes later our stuff was inside the cabin.  Groceries, luggage, a cooler, fondue pot, and bags of liquor had survived the hike.

“Well, let’s go,” my now wet and exhausted Valentine said.  We were going to have to drive down the hill to pick up our friends.  I must have read the calendar wrong.  It was Groundhog’s Day, not Valentine’s. 

“Babe, babe, babe, God, Babe,” my boyfriend said as the back-end of his truck slid out from behind.  We were now perpendicular to the road and heading straight for a parked and abandoned Yukon.

Phew.  We stopped 5 feet in front of the front of the vehicle.  I got out of the truck, not willing to risk my life for this journey.  He was stuck. 

“You’re going to have to try to pull up,” I said.  It was the only way to get around the Yukon.  Bust.  He slid into the other vehicle and landed in a reverse t-bone collision. 

Swear words, panic, even a few tears. “Please God,” I said.  “Let us get out of this alive.”

I was sure we were going to die.  Someone was going to see we had hit their truck and they were going to shoot us.  We were going to freeze to death on the top of this mountain.  If we did live through it, our friends were going to hate us.  They would say it was okay that we couldn’t get to them, but it would always be this unspoken awkwardness.  We had enjoyed the Valentine’s cabin without them.  They had spent the night in a crowded Family Inn with a green colored  indoor heated pool, chalky bar soap, and hair on the pillows. 

“I see headlights!” I said.  My boyfriend waved his arms…as if they weren’t going to see two giant trucks in the middle of the road. 

A man wearing a camo jacket and a long gray beard got out of his car and approached us carrying a flashlight.  ‘It’s a hillbilly KKK member,’ I thought.  ‘Surely this is his friend’s truck and he has come to kill us.’  I wondered if he pulled a gun if I would run and leave my boyfriend or try to fight back.  I run marathons, my boyfriend hurts his knee playing touch-football.  I didn’t want to think about being single again. 

My phone was ringing.  It was our friends.  As my broken Valentine and the Klan member strategized about the car, I fielded the call.

“We’re hiking,” our friend said.  “We are loading up my hiking pack with liquor and hiking to you.” 

“It’s about 3 miles,” I explained as I very crappily relayed directions up to our cabin. 

Fast forward two hours later and our friends arrived at the cabin’s door.  It was 10:30 PM.  My boyfriend’s truck would stay in the t-bone position until morning.  The Klan member turned out to be a family man from Kentucky, in town for a weekend with his wife and three kids.  Our friends hiked the three miles.  She had just had foot surgery in December and had basically traded her walking boot for a hiking boot.

We ate, drank heavily, and soaked in the hot tub.  It had been a long day.  It had been a nightmare.

The next day we retrieved the truck, made it to our friends’ car and pulled out the rest of the supplies for our Valentine’s fondue dinner.  We even made it into town for lunch and a visit to a jerky store.

Accidents, injuries, and the fear of death aside, it was really great weekend.

I have posted about the community bathroom many times.  I could devote an entire blog to that bathroom… people failing to flush, people talking on their cell phones about the difference between short-term and long-term life insurance (flush), and people making a mockery of toilet training.  Last week my angst with the bathroom hit an all-time high when I heard someone a few stalls down frantically unrolling toilet paper.  “Great,” I thought. “It is going to start to smell.”  I knew it was coming from the fourth stall or the stall furthest away from the door and last regular sized stall before the handicapped stall.  I discovered early in the game that this is the stall most people try to poop in, but fail to be stealth because it also is the stall that has problems flushing.  As I finished my business (and flushed, thank you) I heard non-stop flushing coming from stall four.  I opened my door to see one of my co-workers leave stall four and walk out of the bathroom- without washing her hands.  I knew exactly what had occurred in that stall, but I needed confirmation.  I took one for the team and peeked in the stall to see floating turds.  I am holding back vomit as I relive the experience again. 

My mind raced to everything in the office that we both touch on a daily basis.  The door, the key pad to enter our door codes, the refrigerator handle, the coffee stirrers…she usually takes cream…the creamers are tainted too! I was on the verge of hyperventilating.  The water dispenser, shipping labels, paper towels, mail, the candy bowl, the kitchen sink…it all had shit on it.  Everything is covered in shit.  My life for the past 7 months has been covered in shit.  I needed to go home.  I needed to shower.  I thought about telling my boss.  What would he say? Is that grounds to fire someone?  Would he believe me?  I was helpless.

Paper towels have been my main weapon of defense.  Now, every time I enter the office I have to use a paper towel to cover my finger when I enter my door code.  I then use the towel to open the door and toss it in the trash can under my desk.  Usually I also grab a handful of hand sanitizer from the bathroom and nonchalantly carry it in my left hand to rub on to my skin after I throw away the paper towel.

The kitchen is the worst.  I use a paper towel to open the fridge, the drawers, the cupboards, and to pour water out of the dispenser.  I don’t use stir sticks or cream. 

I was afraid people would think I was crazy, but yesterday I noticed another co-worker using a paper towel to punch in her door code.  She knows. 

As I type this, the fecally fingered culprit just walked by.  It’s 3:45.  She’s off for her afternoon deuce.  She just returned at 3:49.  It must not have required much wiping.

What have I been doing in the past 22 days you ask? Well, the same damn things.  I’m a creature of habit.  Almost every single day I eat oatmeal and drink coffee.  I work/watch the clock until a respectable lunch hour and I eat a turkey sandwich, apple, and carrots.  I count the minutes until 5:00, leave work, hit the gym or the pavement for a run, then return home to lethargically eat a baked potato and some other dinner combination while I watch horrible television.  Then my alarm goes off and it’s Groundhog’s day.  I wipe the sleep out of my eyes, pack my gym bag and turkey sandwich and head out the door with oatmeal on my mind.  I’m so freaking boring.  I’m confident I just caused you to skim this post.  Don’t deny it.  You’re falling asleep now.

Now that I have a roommate, or rather live with my boyfriend, I have a few extra dollars a month to invest in a worthy cause.  Re-building my shoe wardrobe.  “One pair per paycheck,” is my goal.  It is going to be tough (I’m completely lying), but I will find a few pairs each month to take home and replace the clicking heels in my closet.  Not that I plan to throw away the clicking heels, but you understand.  So far I have added two new pairs to my pile.

The first is a pair of Nine West gray and black animal print pumps covered in synthetic animal hair.  That kind of sounds like I’m wearing something from McDonald’s of Kenya on my foot, but trust me, they are delicious. 

The second is a pair of patent leather turquoise Kenneth Cole mary jane heels.  I found them hidden on a discount rack (gasp) at DSW.  I pulled them out of the box and slipped the right shoe on my foot.  Cue Rodgers and Hammerstein, because this shoe fit like a glass slipper.  I walked around the store and tried to forget them, but couldn’t.  I kept thinking of some poor, white trash person who doesn’t Kenneth Cole from Rocketdog taking home the shoes and wearing them around Wal-Mart.  It couldn’t happen.  The shoes deserved better.  Kenneth deserved better. 

So, that’s the latest of the lame.  Hate to cut this short, but I’m ready for my turkey sam.

First of all, I highly doubt the city will see much more than an inch of snow, if anything at all.  Despite the lack of accumulation, people are going to freak out.  And, they already have.  There have been reports of people flocking to the grocery store to stock up for the snow storm.  Rushing to buy bread and milk and bottled water as they prepare to brave the storm from indoors.  Just how long do these people plan to be inside? Even if Nashville received 4 inches of snow, are you going to stay inside all week?  Wait, don’t answer that.  I once worked with a woman who stayed in her house all weekend for half an inch of snow or “wintery mix.” 

Second, I am perfectly capable of driving in it.  Bring on a foot of snow and as long as my car doesn’t get stuck, let’s go to the mall, I’m not scared.  Everyone else in this town however, missed the severe road conditions day in Drivers’ Ed.  Not that the roads will be severe, but people in Nashville can’t drive in sleet, can’t drive in snow, and can’t even drive in rain.  This means, I will have to drive to work while everyone around me is flipping their vehicles, sliding into ditches, and spinning out of control (and hopefully not at my car).  Driving in bad weather (or slightly poor weather) is a life skill.  What if your job transfers you to North Dakota or your child has to visit the Mayo Clinic in Minneapolis?  Are you just shit out of luck?  Sorry Jimmy, you can’t get your dialysis today because we just can’t leave the house. 

Keep an eye on the weather. Complete and utter irrational hysteria is on the horizon.  The nuclear winter is upon  us.  It’s every man for himself.

It’s hard to remember all of the times we had together.  Looking back, you started off a lot rougher than you ended.  When you first arrived, you caught me kissing some guy from Atlanta who told me he used to play baseball for the Braves organization…or was it the Indians? I don’t know, but I tried to believe it.  Did you know, a couple months later I actually got sushi and a pitcher of sake out of the deal?  Yeah, he was in town for business and thought we could meet up.  I’m pretty sure he thought a few eel rolls meant he could have his way with me at the Nashville Marriott, but of course I politely declined the invitation.  Then there was Valentine’s Day.  2009, you probably gave me my worst one yet.  I had decided to get back together with the biggest mistake of 2008…thanks.  A carton of strawberries from the corner grocery store?  Oh yeah, and some cool whip.  “I knew you didn’t want chocolate.”  True, and I guess I didn’t want flowers, a card, a gift, or for you to purchase our tickets to the hockey game prior to the face off.  The only thing good about the situation was that he got ripped off by a scalper when he bought our tickets.  He charged him $10 over face value.  And I thought this guy was smart.  We lasted 3 more weeks.  Remember, he was chatting up his ex (and ugly) girlfriend behind my back.  It all came out at my birthday party.  “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.”  I did.  I actually cried over the loser, but you know what? I was reminded again of how much my friends really cared about me.  They picked me up and promised me that I’d be fine.  They were right. 

I shook it off and started dating again.  I signed up for a free week of Match.com and was determined to get a date without paying for it.  I had a whirlwind email relationship that quickly turned to texting and plans to meet up…at the mall.  Yeah, he worked nights and I needed to go there anyway to buy some new shoes.  The date was okay, he wasn’t as cute as his picture, but we had such great conversation right? I thought I’d give him another chance so I sent him a funny ecard.  It said “I had fun on our date, unless of course you didn’t, then I didn’t either.”  I received an email back at 1:30 AM that read “I didn’t. Best of luck!”  Wow. I could only blame myself.  Really? I went to the mall on a date? Now I understand why I didn’t date in junior high. 

On April 1, I was fired.  April Fools! It was actually April 2.  I almost bet they did that on purpose. “What if she thinks it’s just a joke?” Well, I was told my position was “written out of the budget.”  That’s the real joke.  I was completely over the place, i.e. wouldn’t spit on it if it was burning.  Why would I try to extinguish something I worked so hard to start? Still, it was a complete slap in the face. 

Sixteen days later I went fishing.  I know a guy who is basically a semi professional fisherman and he had offered to take me fishing. I think I surprised him when I responded with “When?”  “No, it’s not really a date,” I told my friends.  I didn’t catch any fish, but I did manage to capture the heart of the fisherman and he captured mine.  Finally 2009, you cut me some slack!

Seven days later on April 25, I used those shoes I had purchased during my failed date to run in my fifth half marathon.  That’s a pretty big accomplishment for a former fat kid.  Well not fat, but kind of chubby.  I didn’t run my best race, it was hot as hell, but I had my biggest group of fans to date.  Not only did I have friends cheering for me, but for the first time in my running career, my parents came to watch.  By coincidence, my aunt and uncle were in town, and my cousins and grandma made the trip, making it a family affair.  It was great!

In May, summer love started and the fisherman and I did a lot of…well, fishing.  We also went camping over Memorial Day weekend to Big South Fork national park.  We hiked, cooked over a camping stove, took a train ride to an old mining town, and spent some quality time together.  It sounds romantic, and it was until he heard me trying to pee in the woods.  I won’t go into details, but I will say it was embarrassing. 

Summer was a hot one.  I had to wake up early to complete my runs.  There’s nothing worse than running when it’s 98 degrees.  Well there are things that are worse, like not having any money.  Oh yeah, I was still out of work.  I was poor.  I was a deadbeat.

Oh 2009, do you remember when I planted pumpkins at my parents’ farm? Yes, in July I went home to Nebraska to visit the folks.  The fourth is my dad’s favorite holiday and I thought I would prove myself as the favorite child by spending it at home with my parents.  I brought the fisherman and boyfriend.  Don’t worry, I’m referring to the same person.  We planted pumpkins to add to the crop of growing Christmas trees and took a few spins on the tractor.  We also blew up a bunch of shit.  We honored my sister’s memory by dancing in the smoke of smoke bombs, a long time ritual we had when we were growing up.  Of course she didn’t die, she was just in Austin where she lives.

In July my unemployment checks ceased because I found a job! As you know it was (and is) a marketing job.  It took three months, but you finally came around 2009.  You about had me eating out of a dumpster. 

I was reminded of the true beauty of the earth when I visited Colorado in August.  It is amazing when you realize that most of life’s pleasures are free.  Blue sky, mountains, rivers and streams provide a backdrop for wild elk, moose, and other magnificent creatures.  Thank you for the much-needed reminder that the world is much bigger than I often think.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk some shit during football season this year.  The Huskers were back! Of course they had a few mistakes and one HUGE heartbreak during the Big 12 Championship, but I have never been more proud to cheer “Go Big Red!” My only regret is not attending a game in Memorial Stadium this year.

At least nine friends (and if I think about it, a few enemies) became engaged in 2009.  You really know how to make a girl feel special.  Could you have sent a less obvious of a wake up call that it’s time to grow up.  Thanks.  However,  for the first time most of my friends are very happy in the love department, and that makes me ecstatic.  Do I smell happiness? The weddings have already started and will continue into the new year (sorry about your luck 2009).

I became a world traveler in October when I visited Dublin, Ireland.  I ran the Dublin Marathon in 4:10:53 and loved almost every second of it.  I took a double dose of Imodium to prevent myself from runners trots.  It worked.  The trip was amazing.  I saw castles, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, pubs, and green country side.  Again, I was amazed to discover the size of our world.  It’s crazy to think there are buildings that have been standing for hundreds of years longer than the U.S.A. had been a country. 

Thanksgiving with my family was amazing.  So while you gave me the worst Valentine’s Day, you made up for it with the best Thanksgiving.  I’ll forgive you now.  It was wonderful to relax with the company of my family.  2009, you’ve also reminded me of how fortunate I am and the importance of the moments we get to spend with our loved ones.  I am truly blessed to have such an amazing family and really good genes.  Damn, we are good-looking!

Holiday parties and more time spent with friends brought a cheery holiday season.  I put up my Christmas tree in a new house this year.  Yeah, I moved in with that fisherman. 

Did you have to send 14 inches of snow for Christmas? This year, Lincoln received a record amount of snow with 8 1/2 inches on Christmas day.  It was a blizzard!  We weren’t able to attend Christmas church because so many services wer cancelled due to the weather.  Nevertheless, it was great to be home.  I hadn’t been back since July.  Though I cursed its existence, I truly loved experiencing the snow.  We just don’t get that kind of treatment in Nashville.  It was the first Christmas I haven’t spent with my sister.  As a nurse, she was scheduled to work on Christmas.  Ironically, she was put on call and never called in to work, which is even sadder.  It was tough, but thanks to technology we kept in touch throughout the day.  We even had a reading of “The Night Before Christmas,” over the phone.  My dad started laughing in the middle of the story, for reasons I have yet to fully understand.  Something about his neighbors potentially being “furries.”  Oh, how I love my family!

On paper, you weren’t too terrible 2009.  Of course I only remember the good and the really bad parts.  You brought me many milestones:

cooking my first turkey dinner, my first overseas trip, my first marathon, and my first time breaking wind in front of a guy (a complete *and mortifying* accident).

I changed boyfriends, changed jobs, changed my address, and changed my mind about a million times. 

I learned about myself and about others.

Not too shabby, 2009.  Not too shabby at all.   Your last seven and a half hours better not disappoint.

Sincerely,

Erin

The past two days I have been online shopping for the Christmas presents I should have purchased by last week.  I can’t be bothered by work requests.  “If my order times out because I have to reply to this email… Back away from my desk and don’t you dare look over my shoulder.”  I’m on a mission folks and I’m busy being busy. 

There is nothing worse than shopping for someone when you have no idea what you are actually shopping for.  You just wander aimlessly through the store hoping that something will jump out at you as if you are going to suddenly remember that this person needs the deluxe version of Scrabble or a Hillshire Farms meat log.  Why do I even bother? I know as soon as I park my car- better yet as I’m driving to the store that I’m going to be completely unsuccessful.  Thus, I have turned to online shopping.  The Internet is smarter than the average shopper.  You may Google “vintage jewelry” only to find out that you actually were looking for a GPS watch.  “Did you mean navigational pedometer?”  Why yes, I think I did.  Google is a mind reader.

Last night I made some Christmas cookies.  Actually, they probably are classified as “candy,” because they are shaped as balls.  Peanut butter balls coated in chocolate almond bark and topped with colored round sprinkles.  They taste like shit if you forget the sprinkles and you may as well just not show up to the party if you forgot the sprinkle topping.  Peanut butter balls have been a staple of Christmas tradition in my house since I was a child.  These balls are so coveted that the ball preparation becomes the main priority of the chef.  Nothing can get in the way of perfecting and finishing each peanut butter ball…nothing.  Case and point: As a child I fell down the basement stairs. I had tumbled down the stairs and landed on the hard, cold linoleum.  Fearing I had lost feeling in my legs, my sister called to my mother for help.  My mother was making peanut butter balls.  She sent a message to “shake it off.”  Afterall, her hands were greasy and she couldn’t let the almond bark dry. 

I think this may be my best set of balls to date.  They are sure to be a crowd pleaser at two holiday parties I am attending. 

The funniest thing that has happened at work lately is I’m supervising three temps.  These poor jobless people are making cold calls about a new set of services we are trying to whore out to unsuspecting business owners.  I just showed up one day and was told they were reporting to me.  It’s quite humorous to listen to myself attempt to explain the actual set of services we are selling.  Just make your calls and don’t ask questions.  If you’re good you can have a slice of the fruit cake some random old lady sent to our office.