Thursday, April 19, 2007

Blog Today. Gone Tomorrow.

Dear Blog,

As I approach my 100th post in 10 months (9 more to go!) I'm amazed...

At the crazy topics I've covered.

The things I've done in the name of "research".

The high consumption of booze.

The bad dates (too many).

The good dates (just enough).

The high consumption of booze.

I've come a long way from the no-dating-til-it's-all-done-list little Redhead-Next-Door. Now I'm in a normal well-adjusted albeit crazy-in-love relationship. And I have you to thank dear Blog [well that, and my fantastic bottom].

We had some great times Blog. We've laughed. We've cried. We've had pillow fights in our underwear.

But now, it's time to say goodbye. I know this isn't something that we've talked about, but we always knew one day we would go our seperate ways.

I will miss you Blog; you were my first.

xoxo, Erika

[Post Blog Post Note: Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting over the last 10 months. I love you all! I'll be starting up another blog soon. For anyone who'd like the link, send me an email at].

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Zoom Zoom Zoom

I'm quickly learning that guys love tinkering and general fix-it's for a woman in need ["need" is often self-determined by said guy]. More than likely an automatic response that can be tracked back to caveman days when the cave dude was always trying to help a cute cave girl reach the cub off the top rock. Guys like to feel wanted and needed. It's not rocket science.

Liam offered to check out my stereo system because the sound in the right side speaker was dodgy. He peered around the component, and promptly asked for a flashlight so he could examine the wires and determine the problem. Ofcourse, I was assigned to be the pretty tech assistant/ flashlight holder. Liam was able to figure out after 2 seconds that my problem was "I need a man" for various things about the house. Ah huh. [I did get him back the next day while cooking lunch, he was unable to put saran wrap over a container of leftovers, so I told him he "needed a woman."]

In addition to gaget and electronic diagnosis, men also like taking on internet -based "research" for their girlfriend/ partner/ wife/ girl they're shagging. And no, I don't mean THAT kind of research. I'm talking safety ratings and fuel economy.

I'm in the market for a new car. While my current car is in relatively good condition considering it's age (think Demi Moore), I'm concerned about it's dependability (think Bruce Willis). With every thump, whirl and swish, I become more convinced that I should turn down the bass and stop listening to Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" and pay more attention to what's going on under the hood/ axel/ splash guard.

Liam was sweet enough to take me out for a test drive on Friday (the cars, not me). I had explained that I already knew which dealership I wanted to deal with (Toyota), and which car I wanted (Corolla Sport in impulse red). Naturally, being the man who's researched (and researched), he didn't want his careful hours of auto anaylsis to be wasted, so he pursuaded to get me to try a few others cars to get a feel for quality and performance.

The first dealership we went to had shoddy customer service. After our test drive, the saleman asked Liam what he thought of the car. Playing it "cool" Liam said that he really really liked it. I, on the other hand was not convinced and the salesman knew it. Silence sayd a lot.

Trying to work his salesman magic, the man offered that Liam's opinion didn't matter as I was the one with the decision making power. Well duh. Obviously he thought we were purchasing a vehicle together, and figured that women hold a lot of weight when it comes to making big ticket purchases. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

The next dealership had over-the-top customer service. The salesman explained every single minor detail about the car - what every button did.
The 400 pound salesman was leaning in from the driver's side door (I was sitting in the driver seat trying to remember which button gave the oil readout and which one pumped up the seat). He was two inches from my face the whole time, I was trying not to laugh, wondering whether I should smoke a cigarette afterwards.

We saved the best for last and Toyota did not disappoint. The moment Liam sat in the driver's seat and felt the leather bound steering wheel, he was hooked. I'll never forget his words, "You were so right, this car is THE ONE." We drove up to the Wal-Mart car park and I hopped into the driver's side, feeling a bit less nervous about driving a brand new car. I drove about 5 feet - the length of one parking space (just like in that car commercial) and said, "I like it!" Then we laughed hysterically.

Liam did show me how to measure performance and quality versus value for your money. Plus, he got to reve some engines and drive some cars. But sometimes you just need a woman ;)

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Every Body

Once in a while, you just have to stop and ask yourself, "What the fuck?" Because there are some things in this world that just don't add up [Like the continuing popularity of Ron Jeremy].

Or, like this binding is-it-a-diaper or-is-it-a-straight-jacket contraption (see right). No doubt, it was designed by a man because there's no way a sista would do this to another sista.

This tighty whitey body cast inspired undergarment is one of many similar lingerie warfare pieces pictured in North American department store catalogues.

Sheesh, remember when the bra and pantey section of the catalogue served to inspire moments of self-lovin' ? Ah, the good old days.

Since when are women expected to eradicate all traces of their curves in exchange for smooth silhouette lines you could bounce a quarter off? There is so much pressure on women to conform. Remember pre-Ben Afflect Jennifer Lopez? You don't? Um ok. How about ahhhhhh.....well, it's happening ok!

Surely men don't want to spend precious minutes (or hours depending on manual deterity) unwrapping a woman who's bound like an Egyptian style mummy. Could you picture a dude wearing one of these to feel better about how he looked in clothes? Exactly.

So women, embrace your curves - all of them.
Being comfortable enough to breath is way sexier than elastic-y containment. For the first time ever in a relationship, I actually feel sexy without trying so hard or feeling the need to be perfect and failing that, covering up. Before, I'd always buy a new shirt to wear for a date or exercise like a leg-warmer-wearing maniac. But Liam makes me feel sexy without feeling like I need to have my ta-ta's flanked by low cut v-neck shirts all the time.

Ladies, you don't need to hide what God (or Haagen-Dazs ice cream) gave you. Men, am I right or am I right?

Blog Post Fact: I ate a second helping of cheesey mashed potatoes while writing this post.

[Post Blog Note: I'm not sure what brought on this tirade. Perhaps it's the Vex I'm drinking right now (note to self:Vex makes you an angry albeit literary gifted drunk).]

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Not-So Mellow Yellow

When I first got my braces put on, I was given the option of picking the color of the bands that hold on the wire running across my upper jaw.

There was probably about 20 colors to chose from ranging from grey [too boring and/or robotic] to pink [too girlie] to orange [too raver] to blue [too boyish] to green [needs no further explanation]. This is to make braces wearing fun for the children and teenagers of the world, who account for 99.9% of the braces wearing population. The dentist that was doing my braces told me that pink and purple were the most popular colors for girls. Uh huh.

I had to choose wisely because the bands would be on for 4 weeks. Hmmm...let's be logical about this...what's going to match with most of my clothes and accesories. Being the smarty-thinking-ahead kind of gal that I am, I went with white (which for those of you in the "know" realize that white is not an actual color but I digress). My rational was that at least it would look natural, and minimize the visual effects of the grey metal against my teeth.

And it worked. From Wednesday to Saturday, I was told by coworkers, family and friends that you could barely notice I had braces at all. Naturally, I gave myself a hearty pat on the back.

That Saturday I went over to Liam's for supper, etc. Since my teeth were still very tender, he put careful thought into the menu, and what I was actually going to be able to tongue on the roof of my mouth and then swallow.

Liam is a fabulous cook. He likes things spicey - just like me. He decided to cook up a yummy curry, mushroom, pepper and potato dish. It was sooooooo delicious.

After supper I headed to the bathroom to brush/floss/mouthwash [repeat] the gobs of food stuck in my braces. Imagine my shock and horror when I looked in the mirror and noticed that my nice white bands were now a bright glowing neon curry-yellow color.

I brushed and brushed and brushed (all the while trying not to piss myself laughing). Still bright yellow. It reminded me of that episode on Friends when Ross whiten's his teeth and they glow in the dark. Now instead of looking like I had white teeth, I looked like I was a three pack a day smoker. My only consolation was knowing that at least they weren't green (or even much worse, brown).

When I went to the dentist for a quick check up the next week, I ran into the dentist that put on my braces and told her my funny story (of which I'm sure there will be lots over the course of the next two years). Without missing a beat, she said, "Oh didn't I tell you that? And, mustard is just as bad."

Alrighty then. Lesson learned.

Maybe next time I'll just get pink. Then at least I'll look like I have gum disease instead.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

A Face Even A Mother Could Love

Once in a while (though you'd think I'd learn my lesson by now) I am persuaded by the relentless Peter DeWolf to try something new.

His most recent quest is to recruit people to join Facebook. I firmly believe he holds shares or some sort of stake in the Facebook corporation. Free questionable massages perhaps.

I now tenderly refer to Peter as my "dealer" and Facebook is my "drug" of the moment. I only joined tonight and spent a mind boggling two hours like that [snaps fingers] when I could have been typing up a really good blog post. Because after all, let's face it - you all deserve one after all the non-posting that's been going on around here.

So instead of thinking of something clever, I'm left scrambling to crank something out before Dancing With The Stars comes on.

There's a whole lot of stuff I had planned to do tonight. Heck, I was going to be (dare I say...) productive.

Here's just a few of the very important things I was going to tackle BFB (before Facebook):
- 5 loads of laundry
- 1 sink full of dirty dishes
- 2 unruley eyebrows
- 1 drawer of un-color coded knickers
- 2 unmade beds
- 1 ultra-funny blog post
- 1 Glamour magazine
- 3 car quotes
- 1 mini-pedicure
- 60 minutes of quality time with Billy Blanks
- 1 piece of chocolate chunk cheesecake

And here's what I've accomplished:

Ok, so I DID eat the cheesecake. Oh well, I guess there's always tomorrow.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Eb and Flow


Hormones + full moon = one wacky girlfriend

Today it's Wednesday. The universe has returned to normal. Liam and I have returned to normal. He came over after work this morning. We talked, we laughed, we kissed (not necessarily in that order :)

Thank you for your advice, words of support and recommendations of mental health treatment facilities. It was appreciated.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Fighting Fair

After 6 weeks of passionate bliss Liam and I are having our first fight [or "row" as the English say]. At least I think that's what this is.

Although, I thought I remembered fights being two sided, back and forth, and then lots of making up. I guess we've had two mini-versions of those types of fights which lasted all of 30 seconds (the two sided back and forth part and not necessarily the making, I mean making up part).

This is different. He needs a few days to think. I'm not sure what happened exactly but apparently "it" got him thinking following our phone conversation yesterday morning. I was [admitedly] cranky and appologized in advance for [any] potential attitude. But mostly I was quiet. I didn't want my crankiness to rub off on him. (Yes, I really am THAT thoughtful).

I knew something was up today when I didn't hear from him until mid-afternoon. But I was thinking more along the lines of heavily involved in home renovation project, was in car accident, got deported, or (my favorite) was busy planning something sweet to cheer me up. If only...

And now, I feel like a woman possessed.

Normally, something like this wouldn't bother me. And I've come to the cold hard realization it's because I've never cared this much about any guy. Ever. Period. I love him.

I'm sick to my stomach. I can barely see through the tears to type this. And don't even get me started about the snot dripping from my nose right now.

To top it off the radio is playing songs like "Mad About You" by Belinda Carlisle.

I called, once. I emailed - the first time to say I "understood" (no, no, I don't really) and he could take a few days to think, and the second time to pour my heart out because I can't wait any longer. I fear telling him too much, or worse, not telling him enough.

It would be easier if I knew what was on Liam's mind. After all, I was president of my high school debate club. Perhaps I'm over reacting.

I feel so vulnerable and open. So this is why I usually keep that wall up around me.

I guess I'll just keep refreshing my email screen to see if he's replied. (Nope).

Arg. This sucks.

[Post Blog Update: My soul-baring and email screen refreshing have paid off. Liam is coming over after work. ]