Erin The Great

It’s my 100th post!! I feel like I’ve reached some crazy great mile stone and because of that this particular post should be awesome. What to write about, what to write about… hmmm…

As a lot of you know, I live in Provo. There isn’t a lot to do here, so people do things and invent things to keep themselves entertained. For the most part (when we’re not studying) we do normal stuff like Facebook, Youtube, and pranks, but it isn’t until we get sooo bored that the really strange ideas just start coming out. One such example of, we’ll call it Provo-tainment (Provo Entertainment), is called Spoon Rodeo. Spoon rodeo is when you wait for an unsuspecting victim. When you know the person hasn’t seen you, you tackle them and become the ‘big spoon’ as you wrap your leg around the other person like you would if you were spooning them on a couch and have one of your friends call ‘spoon!’ to make sure it was done right. Then you get up and walk away.

More forms of Provo-tainment include Truck Tubbing. This is where you get a truck and put a tarp in the bed and fill the bed with water. You can drive around town while relaxing in luke-warm water!

Naked Snow Run - Basically causing a stir by running onto BYU campus in the snow… in a bikini…and a pair of sneakers. We just call it the Naked Snow Run for the effect and the looks you get while you’re running are absolutely priceless!

The two at the bottom you should do at your own risk… I’m not condoning such behavior because it’s dangerous…but it is rather entertaining.

Sobe Bombs – These are tons of fun at big bon-fires. You drink the Sobe and poke a thumbtack through the lid. You then take gasoline and fill the bottle to the base of the neck and loosely screw the top back on. You have to screw it so it doesn’t fall off but not to tight that the pressure buildup doesn’t make the bottle explode shooting glass everywhere. You then place the bottle in the coals with flames hopefully taller than the bottle and watch the fun.

Molotov Cocktail launching - This was made up one wintery day out of boredom during Christmas break. You take rubber piping and make a slingshot. Then you drink a case of whatever you can so you can put gasoline or lamp oil and top it off with a rag sticking out. You light the end and sling shot it into nothingness… preferably in snow so you don’t start a fire. Trust me, the explosion is worth it.

When life in Provo gets just a little too boring, these are just some of the crazy things people do. Luckily I’m at the end of my ‘I’m immortal’ phase of my life. This is one of many reasons that I blog… it’s safer and legal.

I own a 2002 Mini Cooper that I drive like Stella Bridger on the ‘The Italian Job’ and I love the looks I get from guys when I’m driving my car. It’s a very strong look of the undeserving. Like I could possibly be a girl and actually drive my car the way it should be driven… I have news for you guys; I drive my car more then appropriately (like a bat out of hell). So don’t you worry!

I took my car in for an oil change earlier today, and of course received ‘the look’ as I drove up and handed my key over to the scruffy looking mechanic. After waiting for an hour completely zoned in the book I was reading (They Shoot Canoes Don’t They by Patrick McManus in case anyone is interested) I heard my name called. Awesome! DB loves getting her oil changed and I was very excited to drive her home. As I approached the counter I could see that the look in the mechanic’s eye was one of an inquisitive nature. ‘Super’ I thought to myself as I braced myself for the usual lecture. ‘I love it when you bring your car in’ said the man. ‘Thanks…’ I replied. ‘You have no idea how badly I want to take your car out to the salt flats and see how well she corners!’ he exclaimed. ‘Maybe next time’ I replied. He then went into the usual spiel on how I should be driving my car. ‘I don’t know how you’re driving your car but…yada yada doesn’t matter because everything he mentioned I already do (when cops aren’t around)’. ‘Thanks man, I’ll remember that’ I said simply as I left the garage. Guys are funny. But I appreciate the advice anyway.

I’ve been reading Dooce.com for over 6 months now and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. Today I had the opportunity to meet the woman in person at a book signing in Salt Lake, and I’m not going to lie, it was like meeting my Elvis. She is so nice and really funny, and after it was my turn to meet her, I’m sure she thought I traveled via ‘the short bus’. In my defense I was extremely nervous so I’m sure the words that came spewing out of my mouth were less then eloquent. Still, it was extremely cool.

To make the day even more awesome, I got to hang out with two very cool individuals. Nothing like hanging in SoJo with Bags and the leper! I had a blast.

Holy Canoli! Sisterhood unite! The blog The Secret Is In The Sauce is having a little contest where you e-mail them your Top 3 blogs, and they will feature your blog if they think it’s funny, cleaver or just downright cool. I like the way people can band together in order to get more traffic to their blogs. Heaven knows I have a lot to say and the more people who read my stuff the better. Hopefully people don’t think I’m too crazy… although that might not be a bad thing!

I may or may not work at one of the slooowest bank branches known to man…. At least as far as walk-in traffic goes. As far as phone traffic? That’s another story. That phone rings constantly! Unfortunately only about 70% off the phone calls are legitimate; the other 30% are solicitors, debt consolidators, people looking for the Utah state prison and/or Costco. I’m not sure why we get calls for Costco but we do.

Anyway, I arrive at 12:30 every day, and I can count on one hand how many people walk through the door in just a couple of hours… Until I start telling a story. Every time I start a story I can guarantee that at least 3 people will walk in and at least 2 people will call. I don’t know what it is, but it’s like the general populous has this ‘story’ radar and must come in when and only when you’re telling a story.

People will also walk through the door if you’re the only teller and you really need to go to the bathroom. When nature calls, so do the people… every frickin time! Thank you Murphy’s Law!

It all started with a story. My friend Kirbi from work began telling us this story about how her friend Steph (I changed the name to protect the innocent) had received a text message from one of their guy friends that said something like ‘Hey, do you have dibs on Steph?’ Obviously the text had been sent to the wrong person. But one thing did make itself apparent…. The ‘dibs’ factor is still alive and well. Personally I thought the ‘dibs’ factor ended in high school. Wrong!

I have been bitten in the butt from the ‘dibs’ factor on more then one occasion. The most frustrating thing for a girl such as myself is to have a crush on a guy and have that guy not make a single move because one of his buddies has already called dibs. It doesn’t matter if the guy you like likes you back because he’s never going to make a move until the ‘dibs’ is lifted. He doesn’t want to step on his friend’s toes and he doesn’t want to ruin a good friendship. That’s cool, I get that, but after it is apparent that the girl (who should have a say in the matter) doesn’t return the affections the ‘dibs’ should become null and void. About 4 and a half years ago I had a guy friend call dibs on me when it was his roommate that made my heart skip a beat. Unfortunately the dibs had been placed leaving me completely screwed with no chance of recovery. I was extremely frustrated because he never lifted the dibs even after it was more then apparent after the first and ONLY date that I didn’t return his affections … stupid stupid stupid!

I think (and this goes for both genders) once the declaration of affection has been made, I think you should do something about it, and if it doesn’t work then I think you should back off. Now if there is someone you are interested in and they like you back but you are just not quite ready to date them, but you have every intention of doing something about it, you should beware of others who just swoop right in. It’s the ‘You snooze, you lose’ factor, and that sucks even more. When that happens, all you can do is slap on a happy face and deal with it. It still sucks… especially if you have to watch them date but I guess all’s fair in love and war right?

Day 3

Basically everyone was so crazy exhausted from the weekends events that by Sunday the only thing that any of us could do was lay on the couch all day watching episode after episode of ‘Deadliest Catch’. I love that show so watching hour after hour of crab fishing was just what the doctor ordered. I also watched my first episode of ‘Extreme Home Makeover’ wow! That was touching… and yes, I cried like a baby.

Day 4

Homeward bound! My last day in Oregon and I still needed enough caffeine to jump start Vegas just open my eyes. I met up with friends, survived North Portland and flew home. Thank goodness for the warm shower and soft bed that awaited my arrival.

So I had never been to a Catholic Wedding before so this was a new experience for me. Most wedding ceremonies I’ve been to usually take about 15-20 minutes. Usually after the wedding party walks in, the priest says something wonderful and meaningful and the couple might light a candle. After that, or something along the lines of that, the couple will exchange vows and then rings, bing bang boom I know pronounce you man and wife you may now kiss the bride. At a Catholic Wedding, the wedding party comes in, the priest says something then the bride and groom sit down while the priest keeps talking. After almost an hour of the priest talking and a lot of standing and sitting there was the vows and then ring exchanging. About 5 minutes after THAT, there was the ‘you may now kiss the bride’. At that point my friend Kevin military dipped his new wife and laid a big fat juicy kiss on her. A job well done man!

After the ceremony, we weren’t even 30 steps out of the church when Mel and I went to go save our friend Jon who was being hit on by a random homeless guy. ‘Hey there studly!’ He exclaimed ‘you look dashing! It must be your lucky day! I have this for you… (The man pulls out a very used zippo lighter and puts it in Jon’s face) This is my pride and joy, and I’ll sell it to you for 50 cents!’ My friend Jon looks very uncomfortably at Mel and then I ‘Oh that’s ok, I couldn’t take away you’re prized possession’. ‘Ok’ says the man ‘but only because you’re so dashing!’ Awwkward!

After the wedding, and after saving Jon, Mel and I drove to the reception. We wandered around until we finally found the location, only to find out that the two of us were at least an hour and a half early for the much awaited shin-dig. Being the ‘fashionably late people that we are, we decided to leave and hold up in a more appropriate environment. After walking down the streets of Portland and realizing that we were in the middle of the raucous and havoc that would soon be one of the many parades paying tribute to the Rose festival, we found a local coffee house and watched in awe as some of Portland’s more colorful inhabitants walked, danced and sometimes moon walked in front of us. After gazing on stuff that you’d only see in movies (unless you’ve lived in Oregon for any stretch of time) we realized that we had finally wasted enough time and hurried back to the hotel where the reception was now taking place.

While walking back to the reception, Mel and I kept our heads up and alert while trying not to look directly at anyone. Suddenly we heard a voice over a loud speaker. ‘The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!’ Only out of morbid curiosity did we look at the individual. After we gazed upon the situation we quickly realized that this ‘concerned’ citizen was performing an exorcism on the city of Portland… I hate to break it to you pal but you’re going to need a lot more ‘holy water’ then you’ve got. It didn’t help that the rent-a-cop next to him was trying to take care of the situation by taunting the poor man as he looked upon Mel and I and instantly started proclaiming that we needed to be saved immediately! It was a nice gesture I guess that some random Portland crazy felt the need for the saving of my soul. Thanks man but I’ve already been saved… but have a nice day!

After dodging a few other interesting people, we made it safely inside the hotel and made a b-line for the crackers, breads and blue cheese. Finally we got a chance to sit down and relax from the day’s events. At this point I realized that I had tried in vain to keep myself up with mass quantities of caffeine. I may or may not have hit a wall at that point and needed a big pole (or a very cute catholic boy) to hold me up. I did manage to make it through though. After a crazy reception and a whole lot of drunken dancing (my personal favorite) my partner in crime and I made our way down to the car and back to Salem. We got home with enough energy to take off our shoes fall on our beds and pass out.

It all started while I was packing my suitcase early Friday morning. I noticed that I had become one of those girls that now require a million beauty products, none of which are expendable. This was not always the case. I used to be able to pack a week’s worth of stuff in my backpack and call it good… nowadays is an entirely different story. I was going home for the wedding of a good friend so of course the essentials were necessary.

After hauling my bag to work and receiving a bout of razzing from my co-workers for its size, I waited impatiently for the hour that would allow me to leave and venture to the airport ready to start my weekend. I arrived at the airport and then to security. Oy! I know all these precautions are for our own good, but mostly I was just glad that the man with the rubber glove was surprisingly gentle. I don’t fly very often but I’m pretty sure that security has increased since the last time I was in the air. You have to all but strip down to your underwear to enter through the security checkpoint (thank goodness granny panties weren’t an issue). Meanwhile while I was stripping off anything that would set the metal detector off, people with full bottles of gel and hairspray I know for a fact were making it through. So I guess you have the extremes… the ‘Half-assed I’m almost doing my job’ and the ‘Mr. Rubber gloves’ type that stiff you on the happy ending. Of course after you leave security you have to be aware of the rent-a-cops wandering through the airport giving you the ‘eye’, like you’re some crazy delinquent teenager… I’ve got news for you buddy… you’re about 10 years too late! At least I made it back to Oregon safely due in large part to the anal retentiveness of the airlines. I may complain but I am thankful.

After arriving safely in Portland, I made my way down to the drop off/ pick up zone where my friend Jon was waiting to take me back to my home town of Salem. I know I’ve been in Utah to long when Provo starts looking green, and then I come home… and then I see what green REALLY looks like! It’s so unbelievably beautiful here in the Willamette Valley. I don’t know how I don’t make it home more often. Especially when stories just happen being around my friends. Stories like almost getting the cops called on us for ‘casing out a house’ that we had accidentally mistaken for our friends.

After arriving in Salem we were given directions to a house where our friends were at, but our friends had gone to get food and we arrived at a house that was next door to the house we actually needed. We weren’t sure if it was the right house so instead of ringing the door bell and risking the chance of getting shot, we took the ‘looking suspiciously in the window’ approach in dark clothing…. Smart I know but by that point the two of us were ready to kill over from exhaustion. It’s amazing what seems like a good idea when you’re over stressed and dead tired and your friends are over stressed, dead tired and still relatively hung over from the bachelor party the night before. Thank you Salem police for not catching us so we could get frisked in front of a house and be denied yet another happy ending.