Momentum of the Muse

So, I haven’t yet posted about our first fund raising event for MJP. This is obviously me doing that.

Last minute, we decided to sell water at the last fireworks. We raised $400 in less than 3 hours. The water was sold by donation – some assholes paid 25 cents for a bottle, and others were very generous. We actually picked up a number of random volunteers over the course of the night. Brock Pennie stormed in near the end, a tour de force, like America at the end of both world wars.

Kudos to us for hustling water in the country that has the most fresh water in the world. Next year we plan to take the event to the desert, to be even more successful. Or the middle of the Grouse Grind which is nearly the same thing, but with scenery.

Anyways, since then, there have been many generous donations made through www.tweettoremember.com – please stop by and donate a dollar, or 15$ if you want a tax receipt e-mailed to you. Or $1000 if you’re loaded and swayed by my unparalleled charm. Don’t leave your name, either. Just sign the donation “One of Erin’s Many Suitors”. Don’t be shy. I know you’re lining up around the block – I can smell your money from a mile away.

We’re also looking for silent auction prizes if you have awesome stuff lying around in boxes that you’re too bored to even open. Or services. Maybe you’re a masseuse who can’t get enough of massaging.

If anyone donates a $500 or more, I’ll get a shirt made up advertising your business and wear it in my twitter profile for a minimum of 6 months. Ok, I’ll be loose with this. Vy for my attention and the winner gets the (semi)permanent place in my twitter profile. And in my heart. I’m easy like that. $10,000 and I’ll get a full back piece tattoo. We can get creative. You’re the high roller, you call the shots.

Ahem.

It’s been awhile, but a worthy cause brings me back to my trusty old blog.

My man, Michael-James Pennie, is hiking up Mt Kilimanjaro in September. Now, he wouldn’t bring his Brioni clad butt into unknown and potentially treacherous territory for any old reason. He’s making the climb to raise monies ($10,000) and awareness for the Alzheimer’s Society of B.C. It’s a cause that’s close to his heart since his Dad has been living with Alzheimer’s for nearly a decade.

Over the next month I’m helping him conduct a fund raising blitz. We’re going to raise $10,000 in one month. The kicker? Michael won’t just be fighting his way up African mountains. He’s going to make his way up our own local ass-blasting trail, the Grouse Grind, carrying the $10,000 in loonies with him.

How much does 10,000 loonies weigh, anyways?

Somewhere around 150 pounds.

I wonder what gave him that crazy idea! Or, rather WHO gave him that crazy idea. It’s rather amusing so it seems to have muse written all over it. Evil, evil muse…

Anyways, we’re going to be running a myriad of events this month, both online and in Vancouver. So, head over to his site and keep up with the campaign.

Post, link, tweet, stumble, digg your support and feel the good karma rushing in, ladies and gents.

1. Fake pregnancy.

So, yeah. Just kidding! I’m clearly the type of person who panics and takes the easy way out. But I’m trying to cleanse my soul, at least a little, so FYI, I am not and was not pregnant.

Just a lowly coward, ashamed of not reaching my 17th installment.

While I’m at it, screw you, too, NaNoWriMo! You can kiss my adorable ass!

Yup, I pretty much tempted the fates and now I’m pregnant.

Thank God my boyfriend pretty much never checks his twitter…

Please feel free to check out the first two installments in the “Are Bloggers Violently Opposed to Breeding?” series, anyways. They are still true.

Are Teen Parents Smarter Than Bible Thumpers?

What’s With Pregnant Women, Anyways?

For the 2.5th (I decided to count the introduction, then decided it didn’t count, then realized a compromise could be made) part of my series, I am going to share an anecdote which unquestionably proves my theory that bloggers hate anything to do with breeding.

Now, to preface this, I spent a large part of my growing years in Surrey, B.C. I guess it’s like a Canadian Compton. This means it’s not really scary at all, but people in the nicer, more citified areas, need to make fun of a shitty suburban satellite so that they can feel all elite and superior. Mmm, culture, the arts, goat cheese – who cares? Surrey has Ed Hardy hoodies, large groups of teenagers that hang out in front of the 7/11 or Mac’s, and teen pregnancy flagrantly displayed at transit depots.

This actually brings me to the point where I see the series expanding to 17 installments; what I have witnessed in Surrey regarding young people mating and breeding.

I will begin with a conversation I witnessed at Surrey Central. One main character is a young girl about 16 years old, give or take a year. She might have been 11 and just aged quickly due to her lifestyle choices. I don’t know. She will be known as “Saw No Options After Highschool, So Got Herself Knocked Up for Welfare Purposes” from here on out. Or, SnowGupaw, a loose acronym. The other character is a woman in her early sixties zealously handing out religious pamphlets. She will be known as “Good luck” from here on out.

Good Luck: “Hello young lady, I would like to take a minute to talk with you about the Lord, if you have the time.” Smiles sweetly.

SnowGupaw: “WhaaaAAAAT the #$@%?” Her eyes roll around in her skull a little, magic eightballs looking for words.

Good Luck: “Well, I know a lot of young people today are losing their way. I’d like to discuss what that means to you, and what that means to the Lord.”

SnowGupaw: “Like, whaaaAATT the *%$# are you talking about lady?” She pushes her gut out to achieve balance, her baggy thong is riding halfway up her back. She is smoking, and has hard pieces of food stuck in her crooked teeth.

Good Luck: “Oh, you know, lives that are not pure, that are full of superficial greed in place of love for the Lord, and fornication, WORST of all.”

SnowGupaw pauses and seems to throw up in her own mouth for a minute. She gulps and then answers the lady.

“Oh, fornications, like, %$#!ing, right?  I love that $%#@. How you think I got my baby here?” she gestures toward the child in the stroller beside her with her hand holding the cigarette, a piece of ash falling lightly onto the baby’s blue blanket. “And if that’s the WORST thing I did, then what the #$@! was smoking crack and cheating on his Dad when I was 8 months?”

That about sums up the conversation, or at least up until the point where I couldn’t fathom how this 17 year old crackhead managed to somehow outsmart this woman. I bleeped out the profanity in case you would like to show this to your children.

Please come back for the next installment!

Also, get caught up by checking out the introduction to the Do Bloggers Strongly Oppose Breeding? series.

And the first part, What’s With Pregnant Women, Anyways?

Welcome to Part 1 of the Do Bloggers Strongly Oppose Breeding? series.

This isn’t from a blogger, unless you count me, and I wouldn’t. I’m not on the front page of the WestEnder, not holding a baby so I am clearly no authority.

But it makes a point anyways. The point that pregnancy is annoying, and not just for the pregnant woman.

Please add any questions or comments! And come back to see how it all ties up in the next 17 installments.

I like the West Ender. It’s free, and has ads for all kinds of miscreants in the back. I imagine what getting a massage from some of them would be like, really. I’ve been doing this before I eat, and I have lost 6 pounds. Take that, Southbeach and Master Cleanse.

So, last week, the front page article on the West Ender was “Are Bloggers Making it Hip to Have Kids?”

Hmmm. Are they?

I conclude that maybe they are. But since when was it NOT hip to breed? It’s been hip enough for a bajillion years. It’s pretty much the point of anything. And if I wasn’t saving myself for marriage, I would probably say something like, it’s a hell of a lot of fun, too.

But, I wanted to present the other side of the case. That maybe bloggers are also making it hip to NOT have kids. Hence, introduction of my series “Are Bloggers Making It Lame to Have Kids?” Or something.

It was going to be just one post, but it evolved, and I’ve been so shitty at posting regularly that I decided to go with it. It’s like those women who are worried they won’t be good mothers because they keep killing their plants, or fish. “How will I ever raise a child when I can’t even post in my blog diligently?” Sob.

Come back for the next installment, which is actually something, not me just milking a long introduction to be a needlessly long series.

During the day, I work at a restaurant. It’s not a bad job, because the restaurant is filled with wine, more wine than a swimming pool filled with wine.

Late at night – right now, it’s 2:48 AM – I also work at restaurants.

While playing video games online …

• This one I am a sushi chef, rapidly putting out orders.
• This one I am working at a waffle stand, rapidly putting out orders.
• This one I am working at a cake shop, rapidly putting out orders.
• This one I am working at a flatbread shop, rapidly putting out orders.
• This one I am working at a movie concession, rapidly putting out orders.

In short, what is wrong with me?

I have seen the Vancouver 2010 mascots around for ages, and assumed Quatchi was a sasquatch but the others were lost on me. Today, I watched this official video that introduces them all as pokemon. Miga is the one who confused me the most – orca/beluga, but the tiniest of the bunch? And what’s with the emo haircut? Then Sumi I thought was a bear, until he grew three times in size and flew from Whistler to Vancouver with a sasquatch and a walking orca/beluga on his back. They communicate to one another speaking their names over and over, so immediately I thought, pokemon.

I started to write the post about them as pokemon and then realized this was probably old news. A quick search on google found about ten bajillion results. Apparently everyone was super choked about these ridiculous pokemon mascots and would have preferred a cuddly-and-cute spirit bear.

Then, it was clarified that the mascots were inspired by First Nations. Miga is actually part spirit bear, part orca, except the cuddly-and-cute component is completely negated by the emo hair cut. Squatchi IS a sasquatch so one point for me. Sumi wears the hat of an orca whale, has Thunderbird wings, and black bear legs. Then there’s Mukmuk, who is a Vancouver Island marmot. Mukmuk isn’t actually a mascot, though – he’s their agent.

I was looking through the blog of the design company Meomi and it looks like they’re the same people who make the cute little notebooks I like to buy at the Vancouver night market. Happy Together! I’m an elephant/tree/Cousin It! Happy happy happy happy! Granted, this one appeared to be grammatically sensical. No “Happy bear make love for you/ cute smiles for all life!” type of thing going on.

And Sumi is apparently the guardian of Whistler, but his dream is to share his forest and mountain land with the world. He is the shittiest guardian ever.

Sure. Ok. All of this is well and good. It’s educational for children.

Recently, I was smitten with Twitter.

I say “was” because the white-hot love has cooled to a gentle, under the surface bubbling.

Somewhere, somehow, I signed up for an auto-follow. That means, anyone who follows me, I follow back. Any ass-hat promoting their completely irrelevant product. Any mindless cow spitting out buzz words like cud – paradigm shift, add value, passive income. Any instant gratification junkie doing anything to get that 30, 000th follower who could care less about them, really. If you are none of these, please follow me – I’m erinmaher. My ideal person to follow is a bad ass/insecure narcissist with cheeky wit and humorous link-sharing abilities. Or, at least that’s what it would say in my personals ad.

It’s noisy. And not exactly useful any more.

I’m going on a merciless hunt to find this auto-follow and remove myself by any means necessary. I will be hiring a team of virtual mercenaries, so I will be posting ad’s on Craigslist. You can get the leg up by applying in the comments section, or via e-mail, with your qualifications. No experience necessary, just the ability to move like a butterfly, and sting like a bee, internet-wise.

THERE IS A BOUNTY… to be announced once I’ve figured out something obscurely awesome enough. Suggestions for bounty will be considered.