Here are some pictures from our recent trip the the bahamas. We had to travel on the busiest travel day of the year, but it was worth it.

So I’m literally stepping out of the shower yesterday, reaching for my towel when the buzzer rings. ‘Tis the holiday season as you well know, so I’m thinking, UPS GUY WITH PRESENTS I ORDERED!!!!!!!! So of course I fly to the living room, towel in my hand, leaving puddles along the way. There’s no one at the door downstairs as I listen through the intercom, so a little confused and disappointed I start to head back to dry off. But then the doorbell rings. Through the peep hole I see my land lady, looking grumpy as usual, staring back at me. I stick my head out the door (seeing as I’m nekkid and all) and she asks to come in and look at my ceilings.

Now, for the back story, we’ve had a long and difficult relationship with our land lady and our ceilings. Ever since a VERY severe leak when we first moved in, the plaster in the bedroom and bathroom has been peeling off, even coming competely off and falling onto us from time to time. Every time she says she is going to fix it there is always some reason it doesn’t end up happening in the end. Excuses, I say.

So upon hearing the word “ceiling” my sort of automatic instinct is to say, “yeah yeah, come in, let’s talk about you ‘fixing’ our ceiling some more.” So I tell her to hold on, as I’ve got to get decent. Now, as I’m putting on my robe I sort of start to remember all the reasons that I shouldn’t be letting my land lady in at this moment, but it’s too late, she’s already waiting at the door and knows I’m home.

I should tell you, this realization and concern comes only because my land lady is particularly land lady-ish. It’s not as though we are running any sort of drug ring in there. She’s always hitting us with these sneak attacks, and every time there is SOMETHING we are doing wrong, or that is against the rules. Aka. “read your lease.” One time she literally still had one foot in the hallway as she was coming in the front door and says, “Where’s your smoke detector?” I don’t know how she spotted that we had taken it down that quickly (what? we were cooking and it kept going off!)

Another time she was standing outside and was able to tell that we had our air conditioner in “the wrong way” and made sure to call us to tell us to move it so it wouldn’t damage her window frames. She’s very much a “no” person. Really loves to give us a hard time. You know, land lady type stuff.

So as I’m opening the door for her I’m realizing that we have a Christmas tree and she might not be too jazzed about that. And as soon as she comes in I see her eyes land IMMEDIATELY on Justin’s new fish tank. And yes, we have a “no pets” clause in our lease, but fish don’t count, do they? Needless to say she was none too pleased.

So she has this plumber with her and they inspect the ceilings and what not. She makes sure to comment to the pumber right in front of me that now there’s no way they can fix it today because “she’s just used the shower.” um, sorry?? And as they are leaving, as I see her start to open her mouth to go off on me on any number of things: the tree, the fish tank, the wet shower (!!!), I see her, as well as the plumber, sort of get distracted and start awkwardly staring at my kitchen table in silence. That’s when I realize that the gift Justin received from his secret santa at his 5boro Christmas dinner the evening before is still sitting on the table, for all the world (and landladies) to admire.

Yes, they were both staring at our brand new box of pecker pops (in case you don’t know, and I certainly didn’t until Justin brought them home, pecker pops are popsicle molds in the shapes of tiny peckers) with the picture of a scantily clad woman demonstrating how to eat one on the box, as well as two penis straws. You know those obnoxious straws you see women drinking their vodka tonics out of at bachelorette parties? Yep, those.

And although I was instantly red in the face and wanted to shout out, “Those were a gag gift! And not even mine!” I held my tongue, because I realized that the pecker pops were making my land lady uncomfortable enough to leave the apartment as quickly as she could, without giving me grief for something! Amazing. I think I am going to buy some sort of bondage gear and just hang it on my front door. Maybe she won’t come knocking anymore.

And p.s. How hard is it to call first?

So here is the email that finally got my little brother to tell me what he wanted for Christmas. Should it be this much work?

Pete’s UNmerry Christmas, Act I, Scene I 

lump of coal: “But Pete doesn’t even like Coal! I’ve never seen him play with it, or like, draw with it or even bob cratchet himself warm with it!”

Erin: “I know!! But he was apparently on the naughtly list and won’t email his sister back and tell her what he wants for Christmas, so he is being punished.”

lump of coal: “Have a heart, I’m sure he meant to email you back, he’s probably just so busy that he hasn’t checked his email in a week, even though he has a brand new computer.”

Erin: “Lump of coal, you are too forgiving.”

Lump of coal: “Maybe you should get him some flying squirrel traps for his room at home, since they love to hang out down there.”

Erin: “ok ok, I see where you are going with this brainstorming idea, I will give him something other than coal, but I still don’t think he deserves it for not writing me back.”

Aaaaand, scene. You are in so much trouble, you don’t even know it.

So, the Christmas tree acquisition pretty much went off without a hitch. No one lost a finger chopping it down or anything. And since we bought it on the sidewalk already cut down, it would be really bad if we had managed to lose a limb getting that sucker.

But when I was all done decorating it and giving it a good once over, I realized that the cheap ornaments and lights I had bought for it were overwhelmingly red, white (well, silver) and blue. It was by far the most patriotic tree I had ever seen. It spooked me a little. Blue and white lights, red and silver ornaments, silver garland and a red star on top. Somehow the green of the actual tree didn’t manage to balance it out.

So yesterday I bought some gold ornaments and gold beads and she’s looking a little less like she’s rocking out to some “God Bless the U.S.A.” And I think that is a good thing.

I’m getting my first Christmas tree this year. I’m so excited I could puke. My parents weren’t evil or anything, I had one growing up. I mean my own Christmas tree that is in my own apartment. I’ve lived away from home for almost ten years now; I’d say it’s time. Plus, Christmas trees make me really happy. No, really. I’m like an old lady in that I could sit in a rocker and stare at one for hours on end and be completely content. 

It will have to be a really little one, but alive. Seeing as I have no lights or ornaments it will have to be decorated with a mixture of whatever I can find on a trip to the 99 cent store (my neighborhood is crawling with them), dig out of my junk drawer (I’m thinking some dental floss and maybe a little ribbon) and a handful of jiffy pop thrown into the mix. It’s going to be beautiful. Now in my head this all sounds so fun, and in this version I’ll be making hot cocoa and my apartment will be cold enough to put on a sweater (for once!) and the sweater will have snowflakes on it, and I will wrap presents and put them under the tree and all will be right in the world.

Here’s what’s really going to happen. Justin and I are going to sleep too late, then have to run around like assholes all grumpy and whatnot, trying to buy a tree, a stand, something to put under the tree, and lights in about an hour before it gets dark. Then we have to schlep the thing all the way home and make a mess of our apartment trying to put it up, probably get into a couple little fights along the way. I’ll be too tired to wrap presents. I don’t even have hot cocoa. I think I have a little bottle of godiva liqueur in the cabinet that I got for Christmas last year, and that’s about it. And snowflake sweater? I wish!!!

However, I just keep thinking about what it will feel like to curl up in front of it when it’s all done, and that keeps the version in my imagination alive and well. I do love a Christmas tree. 

Also, it’s really cold out here. I mean, Rochester cold. And at least there they take cars everywhere.

Euge and I were walking down the street today and there was this guy walking his dog. Well, not so much walking it, as the dog was digging his paws into the sidewalk and refusing to move, more dragging it really. But as he was doing so he was gently coaxing the dog by saying, “Come on Po Po.” We decided that is just an awesome name for a pet dog. If you are familiar with the lingo, and I think you are, po po can be a term for the police. So wouldn’t it be fun to be able to say things like, “I’m going to call the Po Po” or “Sick the Po Po on their ass” on a daily basis, and pretend like you’re talking about the cops? Ok, I don’t really know why you would want to sick your dog on someone on a daily basis, but maybe you work in a junk yard or something, and therefore, all the more fun to be had.

What else? Oh, how about, the Po Po just pooped on my rug. Or, if you give the Po Po a treat he will roll over and play dead. The other problem might be that I’m not sure why you would put “the” in front of your dog’s name. You don’t often hear, “The rover fetch the ball.” So the plan isn’t perfect! Also, it didn’t really seem fitting that the dog we saw today was a fluffy white toy poodle. But in some ways, I think that makes it even better.

In other news, went Christmas shopping today and ended up getting no gifts, but something for myself. I’d say I’m off to a stellar start this year.

Does anyone else not get the newish Geico commercials with the cave men? There are a lot of things I don’t get about them. Ya know, like everything. Why, for one, in the dinner commercial are they wearing 80s style suits? Isn’t this present day? And while we’re on that one… isn’t this present day? Um, why are there cave men here? But whatever, that one’s not as important as the suit question. But speaking of wardrobe and what not. If they are playing tennis (I think he has a racquet in the airport commercial) and ordering sea bass (or whatever the hell he orders) and being all sophisticated or what have you, why don’t they cut their hair and shave to reflect that style (be it 80s hair or a current hairstyle)? If they are so slick, wouldn’t they have some sort of stylin’ ‘do? Their hair looks like it has never been washed. Almost reminds me of something a dirty stupid cave man would do!

 And are we supposed to understand, with no previous knowledge of why these cave men are back or never left or aren’t really extinct or were evolved all along or WHATEVER, why they are so ticked off when they are talked about as if they are cave men and would do cave men type things. Them being pissed off kind of makes me pissed off. Like, “Well you are a cave man, dick.”

 All I do know for sure about those commercials is that Justin likes the song in the airport one and downloaded it…I think.

So I was reading this blog a while back, about this woman who often times while walking down the street would just decide that she didn’t like what she was wearing anymore. She would take it off (we’re not talking stripping in the street or anything, more like a sweater or a jacket) and hang it on a nearby tree limb or parking meter because, as she put it, someone else might like it even if she didn’t anymore. At first I was kind of, Okay, I can see that. So even though you liked it this morning when you got dressed, you don’t anymore and want someone else to enjoy it. I mean, someone else’s junk is your, um, new sweater or something, right? I’m thinking maybe she glimpsed her reflection in a store window and it had a whole new look that was somehow shadowed by bad lighting in her bedroom. And she just couldn’t wait to get home and had to tear the stinking coat from her body that second as though it were on fire. Cool, I get it.

 But. As I was walking to work today I passed a blue cardigan that was hanging from an iron fence post that surrounds the park near my apartment. And honestly, the first thing that popped into my head was, ew. It was all ratty and wet looking, and was all disformed from the pointed tip of the post stretching it out. I thought, even though that is probably a nice sweater, no one in their right mind is going to see that thing and think, just the thing I’ve been looking for! This will look great on me! And free! And take the thing home and put it on. You want to know what it really was? Pollution! Someone threw their garbage out on the street. That’s all miss “I’m going to leave a present for someone on this here tree branch” was doing. Polluting. So, not cute. Take it to the salvation army next time.