I got an email from brandy, saying she needed to talk, and could she call me? of course! I said, and promptly sent along my cell phone. so I’m driving home (doot dee doo), waiting for the phone call, hoping she’s alright — especially since this is the first time we would have ever talked on the phone.
then the phone rings. I notice it’s not a NY area code and get slightly suspicious. I answer to this:
“Hi! This is Statia from SmackedAss Magazine, wondering if you’d like to buy a subscription!”
How silly of those girls! They totally got me. But that’s ok — I’ve got BOTH their phone numbers saved on my cell now.
(Really, it was awesome talking to both of them — Brandy called while I was talking to Statia to let me know she was really ok, and it was all just for the joke. Gotta love those kooky gals!)

Alisa just called, pretending to the “Daily Nag,” offering me a half-price subscription because I’m getting married. And while we were laughing at her oh-so-funny joke, ANOTHER telemarketer called! I pulled the “Yes, this is Jason” — and she hung up! Yay! Score 1, Erika!

Calls 3 AND 4 while I was in the shower. Yes, I brought the phone with me.
Next time a telemarketer calls and asks for Jason, I’m going to say, “Yes, this is he,” and see what they do.
“No, M’am, I’m looking for Jason.”
“Yes, this is he.”
“It says here that Jason is male, m’am.”
“I’m not a m’am. This is Jason. Can we please continue with this call that’s rudely interrupting my morning?”
I wonder what would happen. I’m going to try it next time.

9:40 — Caller #2 — MBNA Credit Card. Grump.

Let’s play a little game.
Let’s play — Guess-How-Many-Telemarketers-Will-Call-Me-Before-11am.
Call #1 — 8:42am. the Boston Globe. Nevermind that she couldn’t pronounce Jay’s last name for shit, she was loud, pushy and rude. Have I had any coffee yet? No. Move on.
Any dibbs on how long before the next? I shit you not — every morning, before 11, I get at least five calls. At what pisses me off the most? THAT IT’S BEFORE 11 IN THE MORNING.

You know, I’ve been thinking about my posts the past few days, and how spacy-new-agey they’re getting. That I’m getting. And then I thought about you guys, and I was afraid of what you were thinking, and the only comparison I could make was when Alanis Morissette came out with her “Thank U” song. Everyone was like, what the fluck happened to the bitter, seething, screw you Alanis that we loved and adored? Who is this freaky, thank-you-for-everything, zen-hearted flowy lala girl? And then I realized, I was never as seething as I liked to think I was, unless you were a masshole driver, and that I’ve ALWAYS been this spacy and want-to-be zen-hearted, and that you love me with all my flighty weirdness anyway.
And I smiled and all was good, and I jetted off to work because I was somehow running really late all of a sudden. Musta been all that musing about Alanis. (And oh! Jay burned me a copy of a live John Mayer show for my ride to work. How much does that rock?)

you know what makes me giggle? when I get an email from someone like this:

I almost dressed up as “Erika” for Halloween – I was going to wear pigtails, overalls, and my pink flashing minnie mouse lights. Totally groovy.

how silly and fun that someone had even a momentary thought about dressing up like me for halloween!

Why is it that I bop up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6 am, but when I come back and lay down for a little bit like a little snuggabunny with Jay, I crawl out of bed all exhausted and sleepy-headed again?
Either way, I’ve been productive. Drank lots of coffee, replied to some emails about designs (whoo hoo! we might be able to afford invitations to the wedding after all! ), drank some more coffee, saw Jay off to work, and then set up an old Plattsburgh friend with space on snazzykat — go say hi to leafie! Then I paid bills, did laundry, cleaned the kitchen up and ran a bath. And all this before 9am!
Of course, I ran the bath an hour ago, the bills were wicked late, the clothes still need to be folded, I have to head into work early, and I still haven’t packed up my carrots for the day. Oh, and my hands are twitching and my head is spinning in weird little circles from all the caffiene (it’s a very interesting sight. really).
Twitch. Twitch.
I should get in the shower. The computer sucks me in, and before I know it, it’s five hours later. Besides, my toesies are frozen, and I need to thaw them out!
(I swear, fresh-ground coffee is twice as strong as the ready-to-brew stuff. Twitch.)

I heart carrots! crunchy carrots, plain carrots, loud carrots, tasty carrots… mmmm….carrots! [crunch crunch]
(psst — I tell all the kids that I’m always this weird, and that somehow makes my weirdness ok. mmmm…. carrots! let’s all sing a happy song about carrots!)

To quote Spearhead, before you get all judgemental on this weirdness-filled post: All the freaky people make the beauty of the world. Remember that. Make it your mantra.
I’m wondering how to reconcile the yoga “Love your body where it is right now” attitude last night with the personal trainer “Push til it hurts!” attitude tonight. I’m all about the yoga “Breathe & fill your buddha belly” means of personal development. Where else are you taught to appreciate your body just as it is? Seriously, I love the stretching, but I think it’s the “Fill the room with your heart-light, feel it connect in the waves of everyone else’s light, feel how we’re all connected in this light-goodness” that sucks me in. I’m such a cheeseball, but I love it. I’m serious — these are the kinds of things she says to us. So the whole way into work this morning, every time someone cut me off or did some assinine thing, I’d take a deep breath and imagine spreading my heart-light out and into their energy. I don’t think it makes them any less of an asshole, but it certainly made me try to be a bit calmer, and therefore, less angry.
Embrace your freakiness. It will make the world a better place.
Be one with the weird-heart-light inside.
And no, I didn’t gargle with bongwater this morning, thanks.