Monday, December 22, 2008


The declining number of Christmas cards in my mailbox is definitely a sign of my increasing anti-social tendencies, but I look forward to them all the same. I know all of you are probably expecting me to now rant and rave about how annoying those little newsletters people enclose summarizing their year are. Au contraire mon frere. I actually like reading those little ditties. I know, pretty strange but I never said I was predictable.

My one regret is that every year I intend to make my own little newsletter. But I suck at the Christmas thing. I don't even have any Christmas cards, except the ones people sent me this year - but they wrote inside of them so I can't use those. The white-out might look suspicious. There's not enough of them anyway for all of the people who really need to know all the fun times I've had in the past year.

So, in lieu of wasting trees and petroleum, I thought I'd write my own personal newsletter here for all 10 of my friends and unhappy anonymous readers.

Here goes:

Greetings! And Happy Holidays!

I've actually stopped believing in God this year, and it's been great! But this doesn't mean I can't send you lots of holiday cheer because I've definitely downed quite a bit of it before writing this newsletter. Ha ha ha! Or should I say "ho! ho! ho!"?

It's been a long time since we've seen each other/met/slept together, so I wanted to give you an update on my life in 2008!

Well, I graduated law school. So, that's done. And I passed the Louisiana bar. And I got dengue hemorrhagic fever and almost died in a dirty clinic on the coast of Vietnam. I know, I know. I don't mean to brag. I did get really skinny, and that was awesome! Uh-oh, bragging again!

I'm finally making a salary folks, and it equals about 1/4 of the debt I currently owe Citibank for student loans. In a strange coincidence, my credit rating is the same number as the number of times I consider suicide each day. Life is full of wonders.

I'm happy to tell you about my significant other! Or rather others! They were only in my life briefly, but boy, did we have great and abbreviated relationships! There was the serial killer with the white velvet couch, a couple of douchebag lawyers who couldn't talk over dinner, and a professional tenderheart. And let's not forget the manipulative ex-boyfriend who likes it better when you're his emotional affair and then freaks out when you suggest you might still have feelings for him. And who can't fucking spell. I will always treasure the moments spent with these special men, even to the point of spitting if I am forced to say their names.

Now, I know you're all wondering "well, when is Erin going to take that big step into motherhood?"

I'm so happy you asked.

I'm not quite ready for motherhood. You see, I like to take all of those cute baby photos you post on facebook and send to me, and paste little Hitler mustaches on them. Then I replay what the Nuremberg trials would have been like if he'd been there. Oh, don't worry. I don't make ALL of your children into Hitler. Some of them get to be Stalin, Pol Pot, George Bush, the person who invented fake tan, etc. I like to mix it up, kinda like Barbie's dreamhouse where all the magic happens. What fun me and your children have!

I would have some kids of my own, but I'm scared other people won't share my playfulness. I guess for now the dogs will do, and I'd have an easier time eating them if there is ever a famine.

Well, it's probably time to wrap this up. I can't wait to see you/meet you/sleep with you again!

Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!


Sunday, December 21, 2008


You know those movies. The one where the spirited single girl starts off being perfectly happy with her life, her career, her ridiculously unrealistically sized apartment in a major city, and the fact that she looks polished 24/7. Obviously, I am not that girl.

My life could use some improvement. My career could use some improvement from me (as in me not being a retard). I have yet to feel perfectly comfortable in a suit, although I will note with satisfaction I have - except for the occasionaly grate - mastered heels.

I am sitting in my sassy single girl living room celebrating the fact that plunking $300 on an air purifier has finally managed to scare away the three year dog reek in my non-central air/heat apartment. Which is a nice size, but certainly not a palace. I am sitting here, among furniture from my parents and Target, listening to a "Pure Moods" CD I bought circa 1997. Which is currently playing the track from "The Exorcist." Somehow that once made sense.

I am also very ungroomed. In fact I went to dinner this evening with my father and someone asked me pointedly if it was windy out. I also had spinach stuck in my teeth, but I didn't discover that until I got home and began to floss. I am not lounging around in satin PJs. I am currently experimenting to see how long the hairs on my legs can grow.

But let's put all that aside and pretend that I am a Doris Day. At this point my Rock Hudson enters. We hate each other at first, circling like dueling sharks trying to get in the best bite, and the sexual tension is so palpable that all the much less good looking supporting characters drop their pants and start doing it right there.

Okay, I've circled a few times in the last year, and have definitely gotten my bites in. I've had my victories, and I've had my defeats, my highs and my heartbreaks, passionate nights, and some nights so awkward that part of me kept looking for the camera crew of Punk'd to leap out from behind the headboard.

But I have no happily ever after. At the time the credits roll in, I'm somewhat befuddled, replaying, marveling, trying to learn, and thinking ... well, who the hell has a happy ending anyway? I mean, it's great to have someone to love you, have sex with you regularly, and accompany you to fundraising events to assure everyone at your workplace you're not a dysfunctional spinster.

But even in happy ever after land, eventually someone has to die. Or they fall in love with someone else (usually blonde), and you have the misfortune of seeing photos of that. Or maybe they just vanish into their own minds, and you glance at them one day and realize that you never really knew them at all.

It's partly my fault. Men are a game to me, and I like racking up points, and some men are worth more than others. I definitely don't always win, but I know, being a woman, the odds of seduction are usually on my side. And of course, there's the thrill of the cockblock, even if it involves objects being hurtled at you.

It's probably sick, but it's pretty damn funny at the same time. I'd like to change it, but then I don't. So maybe the happily ever after - if it does exist - wouldn't suit me and my freewheelin' bachelorette lifestyle anyway.

Holy fuck. I'm not Doris Day. I'm Rock Hudson.

So, I guess I'm now in the market for a sassy girl wearing satin pajamas in a large Manhattan apartment.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008


Yeah, I probably shouldn't go here, but a recent article caught my eye during today's internet wonderings.

The subject was basically how a new study had come out saying there was NO link between abortion and depression. Which was then contradicted by studies that said they were. Then those that weren't. And so on, ad nauseum, each side citing ridiculously convoluted and biased scientific research for their own view.

Answer: Both sides are wrong.

Yes, abortion can be depressing. For some people (like those girls you see in the pro-life commercials). Others skip happily to the abortion clinic. Still others (who we will not name) would happily run a clinic in her own dining room if she had the equipment and the skills. And Indiana has started letting people purchase abortion "gift certificates" for disadvantaged folk who need one. Which is disturbing on more levels than abortion, but whatever.

But really, trying to use "depression" as a measuring point for whether or not any choice is the right one simply makes no fucking sense. Then having a child could be depressing (a lot of people having abortions think so). Or getting married. Or having worn that particular dress to your high school prom. None of these seem to be under attack.

Stop citing these stupid studies as scientific research, and let's just get back to the abortion debate for what it really is: a classic moral debate overridden with the undertones of just how much probing and control the government should have over our private lives and choices. There's nothing scientific about that.

Besides, just who are these "subjects"? I'm sure people who sign up to be interviewed are ones selected by the studies, or are feeling cathartic, or need attention (or potentially money) or want to push the fact they don't give a damn - either because they really don't or are in denial. There's no way to "objectify" an emotion like depression or trace its causes to one event. I'm not down-playing any trauma or second-guessing that goes into an abortion decision, but I don't think that is the pivotal "low point" for EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE WOMEN. Sheesh. Isn't that kind of implying we are only allowed to experience tragedy once we have to choose between being a mother or not? There are other things to weep about, you know. Even women who don't want babies aren't that horribly shallow or heartless.

If someone came up to me with a clipboard post-abortion and asked me how I felt after a procedure that involved me having to weed through harsh layers of judgment in a mind-numbing cost-benefit analysis probably weighed in solitude and said "so, how do you feel about that?" a baby/cells would not be the only person/thing to die/be flushed out that day.*

*The author maintains her purely pro-choice views. Meaning you're welcome to be pro-life. But if you don't want an abortion, just don't have one. It's easy. You're already doing it without even trying. How's that for choice?


I pride myself, perhaps excessively so, on my French. Years of practice lets me go through conversations at the speed of light and is often advantageous in situations where I need to discuss things I'd prefer that other people not understand. It also makes me look cool.

Or so I think.

One of my favorite British sitcoms is set in World War II occupied France, where the Resistance has been saddled with a British Intelligence officer who suffers from the delusion that his French is excellent.

Maybe this is what I REALLY sound like:

Monday, December 8, 2008


I was on facebook today and noticed a few "friends" (or whatever) had joined this group "facebook blackout." Apparently the goal of the group is not to log-in to facebook for an entire day in protest of the new facebook format. "Maybe you should listen to US for a change" is the group's motto.

Well, I'm listening to you. Thanks for reminding me a good percentage of the population making up facebook consists of total retards. Sort of like those people who want to stop capitalism for one day by not buying anything, without acknowledging the fact that capitalism actually allows them to make that choice. And that many of the hemp clothes they are wearing also comes from child labor.

Your use of facebook is a privilege, not a right. Your tax money does not support facebook. You do not pay a damn thing for facebook, except perhaps the price of dignity when someone posts an embarrassing picture of you. Yes, the spam is annoying. Yes, the ads are annoying. Yes, the applications are annoying. But why people cling to protesting something as stupid as what facebook looks like now (I've actually forgotten the old one except remembering that it made the pages long and very busy) completely escapes me. If people put effort into protesting something reasonable, we might actually get something done.

I would also like to note that the group's founder is French. I'm sorry that French people do idiotic things like go on strike for the fact that a cheese has not been properly labelled with the indication that a cow might've looked cross while it was being milked, or the fact they have to get an education (god forbid!), or that criminals get caught by police and take to (gasp!) jail. I'm sure blockading university doors, riots that light cars on fire and kill people, and waking me up at 4am with marches are all very useful. But, really. This is starting to border on the absurd.

Happily I am somewhat vindicated by the 3,448,000 people who chose not to accept the invitation. Add me to the list. I plan on hanging out on facebook all friggin' day long.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008


Work is kind of slow lately, so I've been spending a lot of time search for things to mock to make my life that much brighter. It was only today that I stumbled onto New Orlean’s Craigslist’s “Men seeking women” ads. I don’t why this previously escaped me since I have been spending hours at my desk huddled in a fit of laughter. What a cornucopia!

For your viewing enjoyment I include some of my favorites along with comments.

1. northern guy looking for a southern girl - 42 built and broad minded guy from up north living and working down here i.s.o. a southern girl with beauty, brains and morals oh yea if ya smoke or like getting drunk look else where cuz it'll never work and leave a pic or get no response ( i wanna know who i'm talking to )

**Um, someone needs to tell this dude that love is about giving as well as receiving. And that at 42 you can’t really expect a southern girl with beauty, brains, and morals. After all, southern women gave up on northern men with these qualities around age 18.

2. Won’t Last Long

**So he’s threatening to withdraw his photo? Probably not an effective wooing strategy. Or maybe so, considering the photo.

3. Looking For My Blonde Obscene Viking Queen - m4w (nola)single white guy 126pounds tan w/ smooth physique 5'5,dark hair seeks long curly haired blondie barbarian,nordic accent a big plus.Unleashing magical forces under the cold grey sky a possibility.

*Obviously a joke. But then again a Christmas Viking chased me down to flirt in front of the Hotel Monteleone this morning. So maybe not.

4. Re: Mr. T Monroe (All Over, Obviously!)I didn't know this "gentleman's" name, but I do recognize the email address. He's responded to my ads on numerous occasions. What's funny is I believe it is ALWAYS the same "form letter." He must send that out to everyone he emails. Of course, there are quite a few guys that respond EVERY time I post. So, I know some of them are probably responding to EVERY ad posted that might possibly have a "pussy" attached to it. Pretty pathetic! Luckily, the guy you speak of is NOT my "type."
**I’m not sure what this one is about, but this poster’s parents did not give him/her enough attention. Or teach him/her to post in the appropriate category.

5. Poem for you
Sitting here so alone…
The miles continue to torture me.
Time does nothing but lengthen and stretch out endlessly.
I am missing you something fierce,
And I can't make the pain go away.

To not think of you makes me go mad,
But too many daydreams of your body next to mine
Makes me crazier still.
And I can't calm my heart down.
All it wants is you.

**There’s about eight more similar stanzas. But this is enough for me want to drop an email begging them not to write any more poetry. Ever.

6. AB Fetish for Dominant Woman - 22 (Metairie/Kenner)About Me: 22y/o Student who is seeking a dominant woman for an ab fetish along with others. My stats if it matters are 5'9", 130lbs, Brown/Brown.

I am seeking a Dominant woman who has experience with dominating and humiliating men, having AB Play experience is not necessary nor is looks or shape. Chemistry and Compatibility matter most.

**Most 22-year-olds don’t even know their way away a bedroom properly, but this guy apparently does. In fact, he knows the way while wearing diapers. Impressive.

7. Still Looking - 40 (NewOrleans)
1. Name

2. Age
3. Height
4. Weight
5. Eye color
6. Measurements
7. Natural hair color
8. Current hair color


9. Home phone---
10. Cell Phone---
11. Email


12. Are you a virgin? Y N
13. If no, how many past sexual partners have you had?
14. Have you ever had a sex change? Y N
15. Do you smoke? Y N
16. Do you use any illegal substances? Y N
17. Do you have kids? Y N
18. If yes, how many?
19. Do you workout? Y N
20. Do you currently have a source of income? Y N
21. If yes, what is it?
22. Do you live on your own? Y N
23. If no, whom do you currently reside with?
24. What kind of car do you drive?
25. Furthest level of education: High School; Some College; Associates Degree;
26. Do you have a history of mental illness? Y N
27. Favorite sport & team...
28. Have you ever cheated on a girlfriend? Y N
29. Do you cook? Y N
30. Do you have any siblings? Y N
31. What is your religion?
32. What is your political persuasion?
33. How many piercing (not including ears) do you have?
34. How many tattoos do you have?
35. What is your current favorite movie of all time?
36. List your three favorite genres of music in order of most favorite to least favorite:


37. What is your idea of a perfect date in three sentences or less?
38. Explain why I should pick you as my boyfriend in one sentence:
39. List any special skills that you may have that are relevant to this position:
40. What do you want out of a relationship, specifically one with me?

List the details of your past three relationships starting with the most recent.

Start Date:
End Date:
Were you in love? Y N
Sexually active? Y N
Reason for breakup:

Start Date:
End Date:
Were you in love? Y N
Sexually active? Y N
Reason for breakup:

Start Date:
End Date:
Were you in love? Y N
Sexually active? Y N
Reason for breakup:

I hereby certify that the information given by me in this application is true to my knowledge and I give you the authorization to verify it using any means you deem appropriate. I understand that by filling out this form and submitting it for review does not guarantee that I will be chosen.


Applicant Signature


**I think the title to this particular posting is pretty self-explanatory.

8. Dinner is on me tonite
If you are up for a Thursday nite date with a complete stranger, shoot me an email and let's chat. The worst that can happen is that we end up having a good time and a fun evening.

*Um, that’s not really the worst case scenario.

9. creepy man fan club (somewhere)
few join up ladies contact me and i will tell you what it cost to join and the rules i wanna do tshirt "creepy man fan club" i will charge small fee for my time and effort thanks

*There’s a tee-shirt idea for you, Jen.

10.male seeking stoner/gamer girl - 19 (New orleans,LA)
I am a fun guy seeking a fun girl who loves to get stoned or game on xbox 360 I am really fun and nice so if you want meet up and chill hit me up

*This man will make a fine father … once he gets out of rehab.

I feel like I should end this entry on a less cruel note. There seemed to be a lot of nice down-to-earth guys on there too. I was almost tempted to drop a line to one or two.
Then I remembered that Ted Bundy seemed normal. And that people who don’t post their pictures are probably not physically attractive.


Say what you will, but muscly men in uniform striding in unison and handling their muskets with their brawny hands is damned sexy.

Which is why all of you will probably be glued to your screens for this one. And will like the soundtrack.


In Prague, there is a bar that has a legendary 80s/90s night every weekend which we frequented so much we would be there when the roll of widescreen videos cut off at closing time and would come back when it picked right back up. Seriously, Nothing Compared (2 U). Pints of beer were 75 cents, the dance floor was huge, and strangers asked you to slowdance in a non-sleazy way. And EVERYONE knew the words to Winds of Change.

Lucerna Music Club was the site of many of my cartharses.

Like Bjorn, the Norwegian weapons dealer I briefly dated until the fateful night that his cell phone rang while he was in the bathroom at our favorite restaurant and I made the excellent decision of answering it. So I could talk to his wife. She seemed very nice. She thought I was his secretary. She told me I had excellent English.

I left a note scribbled on a napkin that said "Your wife called." I went home and decided whether I wanted to cry. Instead, I called some friends and we went to Lucerna where we plugged Bjorn's name into every hate-fueled song that showed up on the enormous video screen.

The above was my favorite. Take out "Bjorn", substitute "Josh."

And we're done.


The only boy who ever broke my heart recently wrote me a letter in which he misspelled the word "apologize". He spelled it a-p-p-o-l-o-g-i-s-e. Even in Canada, his native land, that's probably not correct.

He also spelled "emotions" as "emoitions."

Of course, those were the only two (English*) words he managed to mangle. He did get "melancholic" right.

Even Nabakov's crazy boy never had it so good.

All the little words ... all the little signs and symbols. The universe is definitely communicating with me. I especially like it when it lets me know that my fly is down.

*I will not comment on the misspellings in the French sentences he wrote, because apparently people get really upset when I do that.

Monday, December 1, 2008


I got an anonymous message today from a guy/girl from (of course) Canada about how arrogant, shallow, and insensitive my blog is.

Um, yeah. That's kind of the point. Do you think I don't recognize that worrying that your local winesmith thinks you're getting cheap should not be TRULY at the top of my worries? Or that getting run over by a 400-pound woman in a wheelchair compares to watching a country explode into civil war and not being able to eat anything for days? Don't they get that I'm kidding? And that I make very serious efforts to watch films that portray all that suffering, while occasionally pausing to turn my heater up higher or to get something out of the fridge. I'm, like, aware. And stuff. I even use pages of the Economist to plug rat holes.

Let me sqare with you, my non-fans.

My goal is to make this blog a sandtrap, a time suck, a minute you can never recover. That's why every once in awhile I write open sensitive entries. To lure you into thinking I am human so I can then lambast you with teratomas, and discussions about dead bodies. Because I'm allowed to do both. This is my blog. If you don't like it, nothing but your excellent taste is forcing you to read it.

I would also like to note for the record I have said nothing insulting about Canadians in this entry. And that took a lot out of me. I may not be turning the correct cheek, but I'm turning one of them. But let's just think about this happy lesson.

Q: Why did God make your part of Canada so very very cold?

A: He hates you.

Q: Why did God make New Orleans warm with bars open any hour of the day or night?

A: He loves me. And my blog.

Thank you for your kind consideration and have a nice day.

Keep reading!



I'm kind of digging you right now.

Now start doing that with all violence against women crimes.