Is It Curtains For This Here Blog? Or A Moving Box?

I'm thinking it might be time to move this rant of mine elsewhere. Or perhaps just call it a day. With the rising popularity of That Other Social Networking Site (use of that word may be a ban-worthy offense here... don't want to piss off Tom. Or get my knees broken by a Murdoch goonie.), and a decrease in the amount of time I spend per day online, I just don't check in with the old MySpace account nearly as often as I used to. One downfall of starting a new blog somewhere else is that the past 4 or whatever years of absolute bullshit I've written will no longer be there. Unless I move all that too, which I don't know that it's possible to do. Also, the 3-5 people who do read this do so because of the nifty little 'New Blog Posts!' notification... without that, I have no audience. Not that I need one to continue my bitching...

I finally get to use the car insurance I've been paying since I got a car. Yesterday I had a sucky day, which included having a sucky misperception of size and distance, and I ever so suckily clipped a coworker's pickup truck in the parking lot while turning into a parking space after my lunch break. Just a little cosmetic damage since I thankfully don't speed in parking lots. Perhaps I need an eye exam. Perhaps I just suck.

The other day I got a postcard in the mail announcing the date and place of my 10 year class reunion. I will probably go, even though I really have no reason to. I had a small group of friends in high school, and the number of those I still have some sort of contact with is even smaller. I was not popular, nor was I disliked really; I was just there. Anyway, from what I can gather from these folks' MySpace/Facebook pages, most of these people have somewhat real jobs and somewhat real families consisting of spouses and children. I don't have any of that, and by the time of the reunion I still won't have any of that (barring any unfortunate mishaps involving the use of prophylactics). And I'm OK with that, but it leads to conversations that are over in about 90 seconds what with the lack of wallet photos and shiny rings and business chatter. I suspect this could end up being a very boring event since people do pretty much end up all the same, though I tend to be pretty good at being nothing like them and therefore just don't fit in. However, I believe there will be a cash bar- not as good as an open bar, but a bar nonetheless. And events like this plus alcohol also have the potential to become awesome.

Speaking of spouses and children... babies freak me out. I don't like them much and I never have. Babies stare at me a lot. Pretty much every time I see one, it just stares me down. I don't get it. When I was little and someone in the family had a baby, it was assumed since I was a little girl I'd want to hold said baby. And ever since I can remember I never did want to hold the baby. "Erin, look at the cute baby! Do you want to hold him?" "No, thanks." "Why not? Why don't you want to hold the baby?"
Translation: What the hell is wrong with you? You're a six-year-old girl and you are supposed to want to hold babies and play dress-up and house and make believe you're a mommy to your dolls so you can be primed for the real thing in about 20 years! What is the problem? Is she gonna turn out to be gay? She is sort of a tomboy... is this her dad's fault? WHY AREN'T YOU A NORMAL LITTLE GIRL???
So, I didn't want to hold babies. And I still don't. You know why? Because when I do, they generally respond in one of three completely undesirable and highly irritating ways: They cry, puke, or shit themselves. Sometimes they'll do all three almost simultaneously. None of those are something I want happening in my arms. No thanks. I also don't think newborns are cute or adorable or any of those other kinds of descriptors. Newborns are not cute. They look like little aliens. They're red and wrinkly and a lot of times their heads are all misshapen. They don't get cute for a least a few weeks, if they ever do at all. No offense people... I don't HATE your babies, I just don't want to fawn over them. Or hold them.

Until next time...