The Pied Piper

If they were rewriting the story of the Pied Piper to feature a young woman who has an uncanny ability to make old men follow her wherever she goes, I would definitely be a good candidate for the star. Don't get me wrong, it's flattering to be told 25 times a day that "you are the most beautiful girl in the whole place," or to be called "a pretty little devil" by one of the more feisty members of the 5th floor's population, but it is comparatively less flattering when you realize that practically any man who has even looked at you over the past several years has been of old enough to receive a free subscription to Octogenarians Quarterly. The situation is really getting a little bit out of control. Let me just explain a bit so you may grasp the true gravity of the situation....

On nearly a daily basis, numerous members of the geriatric population ask me to kiss them, try to kiss me, ask me to climb in their beds, slap my rear end, ask me to marry them ("I have $1600 dollars in the bank, I'll buy a new suit!"), stare deeply into my eyes and tell me they love me, and beg me to say that I still love them. Their flirting tactics vary...some are kind of bumbling ("Gosh honey, but your hair sure looks neat!"), while others are quite direct ("I wish you would climb in bed with me!") It is not uncommon for me to open my office door to find a line-up of glassy-eyed looking men who, despite the fact that they cannot remember where their own room is, somehow seem to know that I was previously holed up inside. I find all of them extremely endearing, but once in a while I just wish someone who was even remotely near my age bracket would cast an occasional glance in my direction.

Sometimes I wonder if I was born in the wrong generation. Perhaps the soul of any man who has a chance of ever loving me is unfortunately trapped inside an 86-year-old's body. Or could it be that my elderly admirers are losing their eyesight to the point where I look fabulous to them, or at least better than the women their age? Who can say, really? All I know is that I'm getting a little lonely in my starring role as the Pied Piperess...

Stir Crazy

It has recently dawned on me that I haven't been out of the Twin Cities Metro area for nearly the past 12 months, with the exception of a couple of trips down to Gustavus. This fact didn't bother me too much until I realized that a) everyone I know is going/has gone somewhere recently, and (this is the clincher) b)that there is a chance of snow on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Very truly I tell you, Spring just cannot come fast enough. I know, I know, we've had a couple of beautiful days as teasers, but they are only making this cold, dreary April weather feel more unbearable. As my mother says, "Blie, blue, blah." That is how I feel. Ok, I am done complaining now. Now onto other topics:

1) I am fairly certain that the bouncer/crowd-worker guy at The Shouthouse was trying to tell me something on Friday night when he made me come up on stage and dance with him during the Big Butts song. I really need to start running again. Yet another reason it needs to get sunny.

2) The cat at work and I have come to a sort of understanding. I promise not to give him his pills, and he promises not to get any more bladder infections. This way, everybody is happy.

3) Old men are so smooth sometimes. The other day at work, I asked one man, "Do you you want to sit down in this chair?" to which he replied, "What? Did you say you were going to give me a kiss?" I'm really going to have to try that line sometime.

4) Last night I had a dream that my friend got two new cats, which she named Rose and Marie. I told her that Marie was a boring name and that she should really name it Tambourine. She agreed.

5) I think that the common email sign-off "Best" is really kind of annoying. What does it mean, anyway? Best wishes? Best friends forever? Best of luck to you, I really wouldn't try that? I might as well start signing my emails with some other superlative, like "Biggest, Erinn" or "Nicest, Erinn", or even just "Waffles, Erinn." My apologies to all of you who enjoy using that to conclude your emails.

Well, I'm pretty sure that I have nothing else to say tonight. Goodnight to you all, and best,
Erinn ;-)