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[01 Feb 2008|11:38am] |
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my favorite thing about French-Canadian music television is that they play Kylie Minogue's 1988 "Loco-Motion" on its regular programming.
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| bawls. |
[21 Dec 2007|02:44am] |
because long-distance charges are a less attractive investment to me at the moment than a fur-lined bra, im going to give a 'brief' summary of the last week on here so if anyone wants to know, they don't have to call me and waste precious long-distance minutes that would be better used to call in for one of those personal hair removers.
so last thursday i began phase one of project move to quebec city, canada. i had a flight schedule including a brief, 2-hour layover in Newark, New Jersey from where i would leave for quebec city and arrive Thursday evening. in my typical arizonan-psyche, i assumed that the weather conditions in the middle of December on the east coast would be optimal for travel and in my typical arizonan-psyche, i was horribly wrong. i managed to discover this before leaving my home in tempe and after a few frustrated calls to Continental Airlines and the overpriced Wyndham Resort, i was able to book a room at the Econolodge, located a convenient 5 minutes away from Liberty International Airport with a complimentary donut and coffee breakfast every morning from 6am to 9am. after 3 and a half hours of floating over the bread basket of the u.s., a little bag of carrots from the flight attendant, and one and a half viewings of the pivotal film ratatouille, an ongoing chorus of 'fuckin''s, 'yeah, brah''s and a potpourri of wedding crashers references from the three sigma chi epsilon brothers sitting behind me, i arrived in new jersey, retrieved my bags and eventually the Econolodge shuttle arrived to whisk me away to the magical, urine stained paradise of new jersey airport motels. my socks were not prepared for the cursing journey from the motel lobby to room 316, so after spending about 20 minutes rubbing the warmth back into my toes while sitting on the part of the bed i gambled would be least covered in semen, i called françois to let him know that i was alright and to confirm that he would be able to pick me up from the airport on friday at noon. everything is fine and all i need to do is go to sleep, wake up in 6 hours and go back to the airport. before doing this, i decide that i am in need of foodstuffs. so i call jorge's pizza, the menu provided in lieu of a bible in the nightstand next to the bed. jorge answers and immediately wants to know 'where are you?! what do you want?!' to which i respond 'im at the Econolodge in room 316. i would like a small pepperoni pizza and an iced tea, please.' 'what's your credit card number?............okay, 40 minutes. click.' 10 minutes later, jorge calls me back. 'what's your credit card number?...........okay. click.' 30 minutes later, someone other than jorge arrives at my hotel room door. i tip him kindly, wish him a good night and 5 minutes later jorge calls, 'you got your pizza?......when? okay, bye. click.' after the brick of cheese and pepperoni begins to snake its way around my intestine, i convince myself that the odds of being raped and strangled in this motel room probably aren't that big and i go to sleep.
i arrive to the airport on time. security line is longer than usual, but the employees are working hard and everyone gets through fairly fast. and the best part, my flight isn't cancelled! or even delayed!!! i buy some tea to nurse the sore throat and cold that fortuitously appeared a few days earlier and the plane boards and leaves the gate quicker than i think any other plane i have ever been on. we land, i pass through customs like a grinning breeze, collect my baggage and françois meets me in the airport arrival hallway and the last two days, semester, fall and summer of long-distance calls and thousands of dollars spent on airplane tickets hold about as much value as a tampon in a golf club. no more waiting. im graduated, i have a job here in quebec, im moving here and im going to be with someone whom i truly love and who i know feels the same way. im over 'how cold it's going to be' and the fact that im completely incapable of communicating in the local tongue of french and im just happy to be there. we drive through chez ashton, i get poutine and we devour our food before he leaves for work at 1:30pm. i take a short nap on the futon in the basement and after observing from the kitchen that his backyard is entirely covered in at least 4 feet of snow all the way around, i decide to call my boss, Taylor, to see when i should meet him to see about the documents i need to work legally here, aka a temporary worker's permit. to give you some background information, i interviewed for a job with this company, the ACA, in September to practice conversational English with clients and get paid for it. at the end of the interview, Taylor told me he wanted me to work there and said that with me sending the proper documents, he would get things moving and i would be able to start in january after i graduate from ASU. great, awesome, perfect. françois and i take that cue to choose an apartment and begin the process of me moving there, including buying furniture, adding me to his car insurance, everything. i send Taylor the documents and the non-refundable fee for the Temporary Worker's Permit for Quebec and after not hearing anything back from him after a few emails, assume that no news is good news. as you may have guessed by now, when i called him to set up a time to meet with him, he casually informs me that, 'yeah, we won't be able to have you work here. there were too many Canadians who were qualified for the job.' i thank him anyway, clenching my jaw to prevent it from cursing my way out of a possible job with that company later, and we say goodbye. i am crawled up on the futon at this point failing not to cry and wondering how any of this is going to be possible without a job. how can i live here legally without a job? how can i support myself financially without a job? well, i can't. i text françois the news and he is equally as upset, but unfortunately does not have the comfort of his own home to vent or cry like an infant in. after a good 20 minutes of woe-is-me blubbering, i decide that worse things have happened to people less fortunate than me and that there is a solution. i start sending cover letters and my CV to English Language Schools in the area and françois begins employing the web of support provided by the other members in his English-teaching program at school and his friends and things begin to look up. a few are already interested, but need me to be 'documented,' a concept that i am entirely familiar and respectful of, however it seems that many of these employers fail to understand that in order for me to get the status of a temporary worker in Quebec, i first need a job offer from them and then they need to submit the paper work in order to make me 'documented.' additionally, they have to be able to offer me 35 to 40 hours a week (full-time, in other words), which is quite difficult for anyone in the language school business to do because it relies entirely on contracts with other businesses. i keep trying to stay positive, maintaining that other Americans have done the same thing, so i can, too. i am optimistic and decide to think about it after the new year because that is the earliest that anyone is able to sit down for an interview. françois and i both pledge to be positive and just dedicate ourselves to making it work because there is no way after 7 months of waiting and fantasizing about how wonderful it will be to be living in the same time zone again that i am going to leave. we move on to saturday.
saturday is looking better. he works for the day and comes home in the evening, for which we have plans to go pick up a fridge for our apartment using his friend's car and trailer and after that make dinner together. the trailer is added to the back of etienne's car after we shovel a few feet of snow from it and we are only a few minutes behind schedule to pick up the fridge. still in the neighborhood, we approach a green light. facing us is a white van whose operator does not seem to be completely sure about whether or not he wants to turn, but makes the bold decision to go ahead and turn that wheel anyway, despite the fact that his van and its 10 ft long trailer could not safely clear the intersection even if there wasn't an inch of ice on the road or an oncoming flow of traffic with the right of way. we crash into the trailer and etienne's car is easily totaled. everyone is fine and we are reminded of the benefits of insurance before françois and i urge etienne to join us for dinner as a way of distracting himself from his certain future of deductibles and too-small-rental-cars. the fridge is out of the question for retrieval and we call its owners, who are glad that we are okay, but inform us that they will not hold it for us any longer. shucks. dinner is a success and saturday finally ends.
the days after saturday bleed together as hours spent on the computer looking for potential employers, attempting to contact those employers, watching american-made christmas films dubbed over in French on the CBC, and eating an occasional lindt truffle. when françois comes home from work, i update him on the job search and he updates me on his day before we eat, go see some friends, watch a movie or indulge in bad television. on monday morning, françois's mother buys us a bed, a gift we are giddily gracious for because apparently beds are like tires and cost ungodly amounts of money simply because people need them. she brings her new French boyfriend, a situation entirely awkward for françois and less for me because i do not speak French and i assume he hates me, anyway. i decide on monday night that i should just write a book if i cant get a job, but then remember that of course, i don't know what i would write about, i don't think it would be that good, and it would still leave the money pot dry and cracking. i stay up each night while françois slumbers on the lopsided futon in the basement watching documentaries on TLC or watching Gone With the Wind on the CBC.
tonight we meet with one of his teacher's, sara, for a drink and it's great. i have a bowl (a BOWL!!) of hot chocolate and a panini and we broach all of my favorite topics of discussion; politics, ethnic stereotypes, rushmore, steve buscemi and socialized healthcare. the night is almost over and im feeling more and more positive about everything; im convinced that ill find an employer willing to offer me a full-time position and to perform the paperpushing element of the process and after that, everything is going to work out fine and this non-sensical fear of moving back to Arizona is less and less prevalent. all of this optimism vanishes into the cold air when we approach his house and discover that the garage door did not shut all of the way and the dumbassed sheepdog-collie mix named Blackey (yes, he's black and yes, i feel weird calling anything black 'Blackey') had escaped while we were gone. this would be a good time to mention that Blackey is the dog that françois's dad picked out with ramona, his current girlfriend from Newfoundland whom he cheated on his wife with 10 years ago, which was when he picked out Blackey, a dog that coincidentally looks identical to the now-deceased family dog, Pitton. the two are gone on a cruise right now and left Blackey at the house to be watched over by françois and me. we attempted to follow the little paw tracks trailing from the garage, but they quickly disappeared under the new layers of falling snow. they are coming back in two days and we pray to the gods that we don't really believe in that he will either show up miraculously undead tomorrow morning or that they won't be so bummed out that the dog died several days before christmas.
so this has been my week. i hope that it is not an omen for the time i very much want to spend here until law school in the fall of 2009 and i hope that this is the worst. i just need a full-time job, a fridge and a new dog.
i miss and love you all,
erin
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[15 May 2007|12:17pm] |
two reasons why im not really that excited about today:
-had to say goodbye to frank at the airport, which marks the closest to crying in public that i'll probably ever reach.
-got two overdraft fees in my checking account because i forgot to add one $10 purchase into my register.
the first one is the main reason, but the second one is really, really irritating because i tried so hard to not let it happen. and it's not like i don't have money in my savings. humbug.
tomorrow will be better, though.
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| duuuuuh. |
[05 May 2007|02:12am] |
watching people leave is hard. it's not hard when they're jerks or you never really knew them, but it is when you love them and are too selfish to let them go.
also, we're going to flagstaff tomorrow and i cannot wait to see the following, in alphabetical order: clean air, greg, hippie scum, tami, tiffany.
summer begins!
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| the percocet has definitely kicked in. |
[19 Apr 2007|12:54am] |
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when he looked at the brown parcel, slightly tipped over the back right corner of his soggy welcome mat, he wondered how he missed the delivery woman ringing the doorbell. he assumed it was the same delivery woman that delivered packages in his complex because it wasn't that big of a place and unless she quit, which was actually pretty well within the range of possibility because it seemed like an awful job, it was probably her. he never met her because he never had anything delivered at this address before. he was waiting for his cabin to finish being built in the woods just a few miles away. he was supposed to have moved in a few months before, but there was some fire on the south end of the forest that the contractors were weary about, so he moved into an apartment so he could be close when it was ready. he had fantasized about having a cabin in the woods ever since he was a little kid and he read about one in a berenstein bear's children's book. he had never actually been to the woods. he picked out the property from the back of a conservationist's magazine and then hired his architect friend to design a cabin. he wasn't planning on going outside a lot because he was allergic to grass, but he thought it would be a cool place to paint or get high. when his parents died, he got a lot of money and he invested it into a california company that produces medicinal marijuana. then he remembered that he didnt have a doorbell and that what probably happened was the delivery woman looked for a doorbell to press, discovered that there wasn't one, knocked on the door, knocked on the door again and when no one answered, peered through the glass window that allowed for only an obstructed view of his apartment floor. it was messy. probably a college student. or one of those mid-thirties types that worked at a rent-a-car place or something and didn't have a lot of ambition to do anything else beside complete his burned dvd collection of lost episodes. not that this was a bad thing. but she just couldn't see herself with someone like that because she had pretty big plans for herself. plans that didn't involve dropping off big, anonymous brown packages on the doorsteps of slobs. she was going to fill out the paper work on thursday to become a surrogate mother. some rich family in shanghai wanted a baby that was at least half-white so it stood out more and they were willing to pay her like 80,000 in chinese yuan. she always wanted to have kids on her own, but she knew that she was too ugly to ever get married and also it was hard for her to meet met in her job because they were all either super attractive delivery men who dated super attractive florists or something like that or they were sloppy customers like the one she was trying to get a signature from right now. she didn't think that the chinese couple cared too much that she was ugly, or maybe they didn't even think she was. maybe how white people sometimes can't tell the difference with asian people, asian people cant tell the difference with white people. so they probably thought she was meg ryan. sleepless in seattle meg ryan, though. not you've got mail meg ryan. she loved the idea of being pregnant. she remembered how her mom got to stay home and take naps in the afternoon and then she would cut up strawberries and eat them while sitting on the carpet floor, brushing her hair. sometimes she would cry, but usually, her mom seemed pretty happy being pregnant. she thought about what it would be like to be the mother for real. to actually take care of the baby and raise it. she remembered that she didn't actually like the idea of being a mother. just the idea of being pregnant. she just wanted to be pregnant, have the baby and then deliver it to the parents so she could get at least a 9 month break from delivering these stupid packages that might have babies in them, but she didn't really care either way. she knocked on the door one more time and waited for a shuffling of feet against the sheets of old magazines or circuit city ads that he probably looks at every week to see if the price of plasma screen tv's was beginning to go down so he could watch one by himself. she got sick of waiting and had a lot of other packages to deliver before lunch, so she left the box and returned to her grumbling truck. he managed to move the package into his apartment and he opened it up hoping it would be the recordable dvd discs that he bought offline so he could record grey's anatomy for his girlfriend, but it was actually the dvds for the first season of lost. he fucking hated that show.
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| the percocet is yet to kick in, so im still very much awake. |
[18 Apr 2007|02:08am] |
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
- erin
- erinchelle
- maafee-san
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
- im a good scrabble player
- im good at baking things
- im loyal
THREE THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
- i tend to think that anything less than perfection is failure
- i can be unforgiving
- im really lazy when it comes to checking my voicemails
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
- irish
- english
- norwegian
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
- failure
- failure
- horses
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
- music
- toothbrush
- water?
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
- sweatpants
- tanktop
- hairtie
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS:
- death cab for cutie
- owen
- the beatles
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE ALBUMS:
- death cab | transatlanticism
- bright eyes | lifted
- saves the day | stay what you are
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE:
- my parents almost named me mackenzie
- i almost always wear a pair of earrings my mother bought for me
- i have never been to new york city.
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS:
- going to quebec
- going to quebec again
- poutine
THREE THINGS YOU NEED IN A RELATIONSHIP:
- laughter
- honesty
- passion
THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:
- fold laundry
- remember to take my birth control/charge my cell phone
- stop eating mexican food
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
- baking
- exercising
- sleeping
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
- sleep
- stop having the mumps
- be done with school for the semester
THREE JOBS YOU'D CONSIDER DOING OTHER THAN THE ONE YOU HAVE:
- attorney
- travel book company writer
- baker
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
- quebec
- london
- alaska
THREE KID'S NAMES:
- ender
- emilie
- vincent
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
- be a bombass attorney
- buy my dad a porsche
- maybe start a family with someone i love/buy jetskis
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[09 Apr 2007|11:30pm] |
right now, i could sure use one of those machines that tells you the long-term results of decisions you make now. i would only use it for, like, one or two things and then put it back in the box and return it.
i know that life is supposed to be about making mistakes and learning from them and all of that garbage, but i really don't want this to be a mistake. also, it would be embarrassing and painful.
but i guess i will determine if anything is a mistake by my own actions and thoughts and my reaction to others' actions and thoughts. it's only a mistake if i let it be a mistake.
no, no. that doesn't really make sense.
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| Erin's Tips for Success #52 |
[05 Apr 2007|04:34pm] |
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Don't believe people when they say they'll always be there for you. Believe them when they say they'll be there as long as something really cool like the 'Heroes' finale isn't on.
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[19 Feb 2007|06:30pm] |
i hate it when people tell me to "look at the brighter side" of what appears to be two-toned piece of shit.
just let me be upset about it for a few minutes and then i'll coax myself back into denial.
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| the loser bowl. |
[18 Feb 2007|08:42pm] |
and she gallops down the field, dodging the grunting giants obstructing her path to victory. she could go all the way. jumping over the fresh, white chalk line, she trips painfully into the friendzone. erin-0, romantic irony-5201.
what the hell is wrong with me?*
*rhetorical question. please don't tell me.
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[05 Feb 2007|06:09pm] |
BRADWELL V. ILLINOIS (1873)
Justice Bradley concurring in the opinion of the Court.
"The civil law, as well as nature herself, has always recognized a wide difference in the respective spheres and destinies of man and woman. Man is, or should be, woman's protector and defender. The natural and proper timidity and delicacy which belongs to the female sex evidently unfits it for many of the oc-cupations of civil life. The constitution of the family organization, which is founded in the divine ordinance, as well as in the nature of things, indicates the domestic sphere as that which properly belongs to the domain and functions of womanhood. The harmony, not to say the identity, of interests and views which belong, or should belong, to the family institution is repugnant to the idea of a woman adopting a distinct and independent career from that of her husband. So firmly fixed was this sentiment in the founders of the common law that it became a maxim of that system of jurisprudence that a woman had no legal existence separate from her husband, who was regarded as her head and representative in the social state; and, notwithstanding some recent modifications of this civil status, many of the special rules of law flowing from and dependent upon this cardinal principle still exist in full force in most States. One of these is, that a married woman is incapable, without her husband's consent, of making contracts which shall be binding on her or him. This very incapacity was one circumstance which the Supreme Court of Illinois deemed important in rendering a married woman incompetent fully to perform the duties and trusts that belong to the office of an attorney and counsellor.
"It is true that many women are unmarried and not affected by any of the duties, complications, and incapacities arising out of the married state, but these are exceptions to the general rule. The paramount destiny and mission of woman are to fulfil the noble and benign offices of wife and mother. This is the law of the Creator. And the rules of civil society must be adapted to the general constitution of things, and cannot be based upon exceptional cases.
"The humane movements of modern society, which have for their object the multiplication of avenues for women's advancement, and of occupations adapted to her condition and sex, have my heartiest concurrence. But I am not prepared to say that it is one of her fundamental rights and privileges to be admitted into every office and position, including those which require highly special qualifications and demanding special responsibilities. In the nature of things it is not every citizen of every age, sex, and condition that is qualified for every calling and position. It is the prerogative of the legislator to prescribe regulations founded on nature, reason, and experience for the due admission of qualified persons to professions and callings demanding special skill and confidence. This fairly belongs to the police power of the State; and, in my opinion, in view of the peculiar characteristics, destiny, and mission of woman, it is within the province of the legislature to ordain what offices, positions, and callings shall be filled and discharged by men, and shall receive the benefit of those energies and responsibilities, and that decision and firmness which are presumed to predominate in the sterner sex.
"For these reasons I think that the laws of Illinois now complained of are not obnoxious to the charge of abridging any of the privileges and immunities of citizens of the United States."
This breaks my heart every single time.
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[03 Feb 2007|05:53pm] |
"reminded me of a diesel truck flap."
-the buck-toothed lady on the lowell observatory tour after the tour guide asked what the lens cap looked like.
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| erin's tip for success number 27. |
[02 Feb 2007|03:16pm] |
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when you're at safeway and decide that you're ready to finalize your purchase, choose wisely which check out line you stand in. especially if you see the "express 15 items or less" line and you in fact have over 40 various items that include tomato sauce, fig newtons and gas-x, because that line is not for you and by disobeying the code of safeway courtesy, you really fucking piss me off because all i needed to buy was food coloring.
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[30 Jan 2007|01:08am] |
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i want to immediately correct my previous entry. i meant to type that back to the future TWO came on, not three. i apologize for the typo and hope that most of you already knew that i wouldn't be that excited over the third back to the future because we all know that movies about the west aren't that great when you actually live there.
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[30 Jan 2007|01:04am] |
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from my last entry, you probably wondered how my life could possibly get any better than yours. well, here it is: someone bought ben & jerry's and foolishly left it in the freezer and back to the future 3 just came on the american movie channel while groundhog day plays simultaneously on tbs. im so happy right now that i don't even care that i've seen that jenny craig commercial with kirstie alley at least 20 times.
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[28 Jan 2007|10:37pm] |
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out of the 1,046 sundays i have had in my life, this is probably one of the best. and the second i thought that it couldn't improve upon itself, back to the future came on tv.
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[27 Jan 2007|09:19pm] |
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i want to go to sleep and wake up to see that you're gone.
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[23 Jan 2007|06:52pm] |
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show me a man who doesn't think that the movie "blood and chocolate" is the worst thing since a venezuelan candy company actually produced a candy bar made of blood and chocolate in the 1980's and i will show you a fucking idiot.
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[23 Jan 2007|01:13am] |
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im at the library right now and there's a guy right next to me rolling what appears to be a rather large quantity of marijuana into a piece of rolling paper. i felt the need to document this for posterity's sake.
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erincorporation's journal