The Year of Balls Deep

Every year, I start thinking about a “Year In Review” blog sometime before Christmas.  Then I forget about it because I still have a few weeks left, and by the time I remember again (anytime between the 28th and New Year’s Day), I’m at a loss on what to write.  I’m not one of those people who authors a Christmas newsletter to my family and friends (that’s why the Internet was invented; if you really cared, you’d install Firefox) because I don’t have all those typical accomplishments to brag about.  I don’t get married, I don’t have babies, and I don’t graduate.  I just…work.  I hang out sometimes.  But overall, I have a fairly staid life that no one is ripping open envelopes to hear about.  Which is not a bad thing.  Show me an “exciting” life and I’ll show you someone on anti-depressants.  Seriously.  Apparently some 2nd cousin of mine on my mom’s side wrote a Christmas letter about how her husband of 40+ years walked out on her and is now living with “another female” in some trailer park.  Merry Christmas!  You stay classy, Southern Illinois!

Another reason I’m resisting the “Year In Review” this time is because I did not achieve my main goal in 2010.  I am still not a homeowner, a fact which disturbs and depresses me.  It really bugs me that I have the money and I have the downpayment; I’m doing this by myself, though, so I don’t have – or want – a cosigner and it turns out that laying low after someone ruined your credit over 7 years ago isn’t a good idea.  When I hit my first roadblock, I got very discouraged and unmotivated.  Then, when the person I was supposed to be working with stopped calling back within a reasonable amount of time, I used this an excuse to drop the plan and re-try next year.  Which I will.  I only renewed my lease for 6 months and I might have to develop a drug problem if I don’t follow through on this.  That’s how disappointed I will be.

Oh, but I was in a wedding this year.  It’s not buying a house, but getting me into a fancy dress for several hours is still an accomplishment on its own.

looking baller at a wedding at Chaumette Winery
(the groom’s sister-in-law’s camera made this all compressed…it was given to me on a disc so I don’t think I know how to fix it.  WHATEVER WE STILL LOOK FANCY.)

SO.  I’m still taking my 7-day vacation.  At 4:30pm on the 23rd,  I turned to my co-workers and said, “later, motherfuckers!” and walked out of the building.  I don’t have to go back until 8am this Friday, and after that I’m off for another 3 days in a row.  Jealous???

To those of you who’ve said that vacation time never seems to last as long as work time: I think maybe you’re bad at managing your time off.  Clearly, you have not awoken on every single day of your vacation and reminded yourself that you don’t have to work that day.  You have not made conscious choices to pursue activities that are only possible with time off.  You have not had enough booze.  You have not taken enough naps.  Even when you have actual responsibilities to fulfill (because you’re a fucking grownup), you have not fully appreciated that you’re not at your job, so you are therefore failing to live up to your full vacation potential.

I am living up to my full vacation potential.  I’m sleeping late.  I’m taking naps.  I’m watching all seasons of Intervention on Netflix Instant (also Joan Rivers’ documentary, A Piece Of Work, which is pretty great).  I’m drinking more than and earlier than I normally would.  I’m not leaving the house for whole days because I don’t have to.  That’s what a vacation is, people.  It’s not doing shit because you’re not at work.  Don’t come at me with itineraries and destinations.  Don’t get all up in my face with your Type A problems.  I am on vacation.

Also, today I’m going to Fast Eddie’s.

elbows out/Fast Eddie's
(that burger cost like $1.00)

Explaining Fast Eddie’s is like explaining why a joke is funny; it’s stupid and I refuse to participate.  Suffice to say that there’s cheap food, regularly-priced beer, and we can stay for hours before sobering up to drive home.  AND there are eagles on the bridge at this time of year.  I have issues with things like heights and bridges – especially suspension bridges, what the fuck, Alton Illinois??? – but the bald eagles soaring through the cables are just majestic enough to allay that fear.

That’s right, “soaring.”  Bald eagles don’t motherfucking fly.  Bald eagles motherfucking soar.  And you bet your ass they’re majestic.

We’re going to Fast Eddie’s with some friends of ours.  It’s not the same group of friends I normally go with, namely because I am no longer friends with those people.  It wouldn’t be a year in my life if I didn’t cut some people out of it.  This time, though, the reason was not related to drinking or whoring or a combination of the two (but 2009, 2008, and 2007 were the Defriending Because of Drinking, Whoring, and a Combination of the Two Years for sure).  It was disappointing to find that at least one person was not who I thought they were, and that the person they’d become was so deluded and influenced by other shitty people in their life that not only were they unaware of what they were doing, but they’d become totally convinced they were right.  It’s like how my parents used to tell me when I’d get all worked up over lying about my homework: “You’ve lied so much that you’re beginning to believe yourself.”  I’d looked up to them for a long time, too.  Such a drag.  And a loss.

The complete details – if I ever choose to write them – will have to be saved for another blog, but as sad as it can be to lose friends at first, ultimately, I always realize that the less people I have in my life who have come to view lying and treating others badly just because they think they can, the better off I am.

Until then, I plan to be balls deep in a Big Elwood and a Budweiser in about 3 hours.

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About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
This entry was posted in Everyone Else Is An Idiot, I Heart, Sads, Stuff I Didn't Know Before. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Year of Balls Deep

  1. Vern says:

    Yes, I’m completely jealous! All I wanted to do this morning was curl up in a blanket on the couch with my book and my pup. Kudos to you for enjoying every second of your vacation. Enjoy your afternoon of beer, burgers and soaring, majestic bald eagles. TAKE PICTURES! Or, at least let me know the best vantage point for taking pictures in that area. 🙂

  2. Becky says:

    Do you really cut people out every year? Does it make you sad or do you just feel relieved? I’m guessing the latter because it sounds like the friends you lose weren’t worth getting upset over. It’s a bummer to discover someone is what you thought they were, especially after knowing them for a long time.
    On a more positive note, Hooray for vacations! Enjoy every minute of it!

    • erineph says:

      Well, it’s not like I have a Friends To Remove list and make it my goal every year to put people on it. It just so happens that every year, someone reveals themselves to be a dick.

  3. Pingback: A Visit To the Dump | Ephemera Etc.

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