between calls at Tiffany’s

So here’s the thing. I’m about to pull the ultimate jerkwad move and say this thing that I’m about to say and I’m sorry. I mean, I’m mostly sorry. I’m a little sorry. I know it’s a jerky move.

I’m stressed out. Like, kind of really stressed out. And the largest part of my stress isn’t even something I can really talk about publicly so I just have to be like “Wibble, wibble, I am so stressed out BUT IT’S A SECRET, OKAY?!?” But I realized the other day, while browsing the fricking Tiffany’s website on my phone at work and seriously considering buying something, I am getting stressed out to the point where I need to check myself and people are starting to talk. I think. I mean, I’m starting to talk. 

“So what’s the deal, Eeej,” I hear absolutely none of you saying because we’re on the internet, “and, really? Tiffany’s? SERIOUSLY? You’d just lose it, anyway.” I KNOW. But I’ve got this thing going on and a new job that I start training for next week and there’s the house thing and I’m trying to lose weight but I’m stressed out so I had a two hour lunch at the Moon the other day, which is code for “drank cider and ate a grilled cheese with some friends and laughed and had fun because it was fun” and that shouldn’t even be a thing because why would it be? But I always get eeked out and then do this thing where I just tiptoe around the issue and get all anxious and obsessive about something completely unrelated.

I don’t know if anyone caught this but I can be a little neurotic sometimes.

And I realized today, as the Halloween candy and Oktoberfest starts appearing, summer’s almost over and that’s a thing unto itself. It’s impossible for the seasons to shift without me being like “Hrm. So this is another chunk of time that slipped away from me” even if I’ve had a great time. Because I’m greedy for experiences, I guess. And not to be old and stuff but, really, where is time going? I remember sitting on the couch between Eeem and Will on New Year’s Eve and it seems like it was about two months ago. And that summer list? The less said the better.

Which isn’t to say that I’m not having a great summer and I’m probably just freaking out about the job thing. Which is about all I have to freak out about right now that is even worth it so I need to figure that out.

And you know what? There has been a string of remarkable good fortune here in Jameson Towers and that freaks me out more than anything. What is wrong with me? I wish I could just roll with it.

But, seriously, I am having a great summer. Me and my neighbor made some beer last weekend and, in approximately three months, we will be sippin’ on some delicious Vanilla Latte Stout, just in time for that kind of weather. My hair has reached a more manageable length and Will is doing fun-for-Will-stuff and we’re going to see Shakespeare in the Park with friends and hanging out with people we like and things are good. I saw Weezer in the VIP section of a casino for the cost of an ice cream cone. Dude, that happened. There’s lots of adventures happening and, no, they’re not exactly on my list but, really, who makes a list like that and actually does that stuff? But I’ve had a delightful summer and, as Mr. BFF just pointed out, there’s still time.

Right. Things are good. I think I just needed to remind myself. Or think about it. Or just calm down.


summer update

Well, in case you were wondering, I have gotten approximately fuck all done on the list below. Except the veggies. I have increased my vegetable intake significantly since posting this.

But! I am having a great summer, anyway, and that’s what the goal of this list is. I’ve gone out with friends to various things and played silly games and sat on my stoop drinking a lot of snooty beer. And some Shiner because, hey, a girl’s gotta have some Shiner sometimes.

Furthermore, you guys had to know that I was just going to do it all in the last two weeks of August and then the first part of September. September’s still summer-ish. It counts.


I would like to do each and every one of these things this summer:

1. Learn a Cure song on guitar.

2. Eat five servings of vegetables every single day. As a vegetarian, you’d think this would be easier for me but, alas, not so much.

3. Go to the zoo.

4. Go to the local art museum.

5. Paint a picture.

6. Get a tan. A nice one, not my usual weird one.

7. Go to LouFest.

8. Finish the scarf I started a million years ago and then actually learn how to knit for real, not just lumpy scarves.

9. See some movies in the theater.

10. Make myself a nice summer dress.

11. Write a novel. No, really, stop being a lazy ass and write a novel, Jameson. 

12. Read all the books.

13. Have a party. Possibly with sushi but probably not.

13a. Have a sushi night at home.

14. Go do karaoke at Crescent Moon one Saturday.

15. Be better at correspondence. 

Saturday morning, Jameson style.

“Hey, do you want some more coffee? Also, would you be Son of Jame or Son of James? I mean, there’s an extra s missing there.”

“It’s probably a contraction and I can’t believe you tricked me into this conversation with the promise of coffee.”
“I’ll make the coffee, I just wanted to know. It’s not right. It should have two s’s.”
“I’m sure it was there at some point.”
“Oh. … I’ll go make the coffee.”

Happy birthday, Mr. BFF!

Now with 100% more anonymity!


Mr. BFF is my dearest and bestest friend in the universe because I can feed him a line like this, and I fed him that line, and he’ll pick it up every time.

Here’s to another zillion years of nerd talk and goofy jokes and lectures that help keep it real!

Sundays are for bloggers.

So I turned in my column last Monday so I find myself with extra brainpower to spare today so, naturally, I’m wasting it on Dave Matthews Band and tumblr, which is a heady mix of ridiculous. I might bust out some Zelda later, too.

But I’ve also decided on something. I’m going to try to be happy this week. Like, honest to god happy and making an effort to do so. Calm. Zen. Level. But at a high level, a good level. Because I had a talk with Mr. BFF yesterday, via text, where he bemoaned my lack of middle ground. And, well, honestly, he’s right. He is so right, I am completely unable to be reasonable and find a happy medium and isn’t it about time I used that to my advantage? If I can turn that wild abandon inward to be a chipper human being, that’s a good plan, right?

Actually, I’m starting to wonder if therapy isn’t helping, even though I left my last session incredibly angry at my therapist. I’m wondering if he’s using some weird psychology thing where he’s making me feel stupid for having these weird and very particular issues that I have and since he’s completely downplaying them, I am now, too. Or maybe he’s just a jerk. Next session, I’m going to go in and just look expectant until he starts talking and he better say something useful. I feel like he’s telling me to do what I think would be the results of therapy without actually doing any therapy to get me there. It’s like an equation, a+b=c, where I’m a and he says “okay, do c” but he doesn’t give me b to get me there.

But whatever. I’m going to have a good week and whining about my therapist isn’t a good start to that. Besides, I don’t see him until next week and that’s probably a good thing. I can let this okayness sink in a little.

The rest of this weekend, however, has been an excellent start. We went out Friday! There were adventures! I made a new friend! And then I made pasties yesterday and they were delicious! And we hung out today and it’s been fun. I decided we weren’t going to go to this all-you-can-drink benefit, which I think was Good Life Choices. I make those so rarely that I feel like I need to point it out. Hey, Universe, I made a good decision! But Mr. J and I had an excellent morning just messin’ around and now we’re just kicking it in the middle room, doing our respective things. In his case, that’s reading a book. I’m currently between books. I have the last Thursday Next book that’s out and I think I’m stalling on reading it because I’ll be sad when it’s over.

Which probably completely sums up my life, right there. BUT HAPPY THOUGHTS HAPPY THOUGHTS HAPPY THOUGHTS.

In other news – Diet Snapple, work, cats, too much messing around on my phone, necklaces, jeans with irritating instructions, upcoming day off for Mr. J’s birthday, upcoming trip out of town, etc, etc.

Notes On a Lazy Sunday

1. It’s awfully hard to write one’s column when one knows their editor is on their way back from Chicago and will not be interested in posting it immediately or at all. It’s also hard to write one’s column when one is nursing the teensiest bit of a hangover and just wants to spend the whole damn day on the couch with Meowie reading romance novels.

2. We went out last night to what was kind of a work do for Mr. J. We took our friend, who is currently sorting some things out, and it was kind of weird. I had to bounce around a lot and was pretty concerned our friend was bumming but he insists it was fine. I still think it was weird but okay. I really liked one of the bands and another one, that is very good at what they do that is not my thing, is looking for a show in St. Louis this summer. I told them to contact the Firebird, which seems like where they would play, but know fuckall about getting someone set up with a show, other than that. My two takeaways from the night were that I need to stop drinking so much because I’m nominally pretty healthy otherwise and that doesn’t make much sense to drink with all that, I’m old and that I have something to tell my therapist about. I guess that’s three. But, look, Therapist! I left the house! I socialized with people! Many people!

2a. Who knew that that would end up being a thing that I actively had to work at, leaving the house and socializing with people? But, seriously, no, I don’t want to do anything ever. 

2b. I met a dj who didn’t know who Robyn was. What the hell.

3. But it was a work thing so there’s really a limit to how social I can be. It’s a truth universally acknowledged that hanging out with GC people is tricky, at best. And that’s, in turn, tricky for me. I’m not good at distance. Apparently, I’m getting better at it, though.

4. We are nursing a hardcore Diet Snapple addiction here at Jameson Towers. I might be freaking out a little because I am drinking THE SECOND TO LAST DIET SNAPPLE OMG.

5. I bought jeans this week and it wasn’t completely traumatic, just a little traumatic. And it might have even been edging towards not really traumatic at all. Except I accidentally bought a pair with fake front pockets. I’m considering making them real front pockets, though, because, hello, I like pockets. Ironically, the pair with pockets are skinny jeans that are ridiculous and I love them. 

5a. I wore my brand new skinny jeans out last night cuffed over some purple Chucks with a My Bloody Valentine t-shirt and my Pearl Izumi jacket. It was a pretty silly outfit. I even had a necklace with a little mixtape charm on it. 

6. I bought the necklace with the mixtape charm at Target and I always know when I’ve bought something age-inappropriate because it’s a pain in the ass to get out of the packaging.

7. Omaha has dried me out. Like, seriously, I’m having skin problems and hair problems and problems in general. It makes me feel gross and unattractive. I’m seriously considering giving myself one of those detox periods that Mr. BFF is always going on about. But part of that is probably just that it’s weird and dry and windy and that’s something I can’t help.

8. I learned a new thing at work but I really don’t want to talk about or think about work so that’s all I’m going to mention, I’m afraid.

Okay. So I have written things in list form, which is my favorite form and that’s what’s going on with me and I think I’m going to go back to my book and take some tylenol. Hooray.

Not even if I tried…

A girl walks into a therapist’s office. They chat for a few minutes and then the therapist settles in to ask some basic background questions.


“Ha, no, thank you.”

“But how will you meet hypocrites?”


So where have I been?

All kinds of places. I’ve been to St. Louis, where I returned with a little bit of my grandfather’s ashes, and I’ve been working, where I continue to do well despite the fact that I’ve started getting headaches, and I’ve been on the couch, where I’ve been live-tweeting Star Trek: The Next Generation and watching bad movies with Will. So we’ll take it in order, then.

I went to St. Louis last weekend during the long President’s Day weekend and I left feeling both relieved and miserable about the whole thing. I didn’t like who I was turning into sometimes when I was in St. Louis and I didn’t like that quicksand feeling that I get when I think of settling down forever and ever somewhere. Because I’m Adam Duritz’s proverbial girl who wants to settle and then always runs away. But I feel so loved by people there. My family, my friends, the city itself when I’m there – there’s so much there for me. But not enough to keep me because I’m not sure that person is sustainable.

So I hung out with my friends and we took our picture on the bridge of the Enterprise and I met new people and hung out with old friends and my family and, as I was leaving, my grandmother, Geem, pressed some of Geep’s ashes into my hand and told me she’d keep them for me if I needed her to. And then I drove back to my best friend’s house in tears and we spent the rest of the night talking about death and love and people we knew and went to bed early. And then I stopped by my friends’ house on the way out of town to meet their new baby. I’m sure there’s something there to take away about circles and whatever but I just can’t bring myself to walk down that path right now. Things are. Life is. And I’ve spent the week alternating between being fucking furious with my grandfather for dying and leaving us and delighted that he existed in this world and he was ours and we loved each other. And I guess that’s what death does to us. Only this isn’t the first time I’ve gone through this circle and it’s like doing it all over again, again and again, as these things happen. Things happen and I remember exactly what it was like. But, then again, other things happen and I remember exactly what it was like when I was 11 and we watched Carmen Sandiego every afternoon, when I was 17 and ran into him at four am when he got home from work and I just wasn’t sleeping, when I was 22 and slouching around the house with him before work in the early afternoons.

Work is. It’s exhausting, it seems like, despite the fact that we were supposed to get more people in my department to shift the workload a little. My annual review was acceptable, even for a perfectionist like myself. Despite the fact that I can feel myself slipping into a pool of work exhaustion, aka the inevitable burnout after talking to people on the phone, never mind this particular group, for almost a year. It’s exhausting. It’s busy. It’s consuming. But it is and I’ve put out feelers for things that I might like to do with the company when there’s something to do other than answer the phone.

And I’ve been on the couch hanging out with Will and not going to the gym. I’ve decided that that probably isn’t a good idea for me, the not going out to the gym. I like that time between worlds, where I’m not at work and I’m not at home. But we’ve been having fun at home, too, so it’s not a big deal. We watched Breaking Dawn last night and had some interesting conversation about it after it was done and then watched an episode of TNG as a palate cleanser. Today, we’re going to the bookstore and lunch and the store to pick up a few things and then we’re going to put up posters and tidy and things like that. Domestic stuff.

So, yeah. That’s where I’ve been. This weekend, I’ll chill out, read some books, write a column, think about art. Hang some things on the wall. Clean off some tables. Next week, I’ll go to work and the gym and watch Star Trek on the couch. It’s a life seemingly ordinary and maybe there’s something to that. Maybe that’s why I’m glad I moved to Omaha most of the time. Because our lives are quiet here and that helps it get quiet in my head.

And I’m happy with that.

Where in the world is Erin Jameson?

Oh, god, Budweiser.

As as mostly-native Maplewood girl, I was pretty disappointed when Budweiser stopped being a St. Louis company and became INBev US or whatever the hell it is. I was never that into their beer but, due to my training, will absolutely drink Bud Light if I’m somewhere where I can’t get the type of beer that I usually drink. Bud Select wasn’t thaaaat bad and it seems to be the beer of choice for Brown family gatherings back home. But then the foreign ownership was just a kick in the pants. Because it was our thing with our sign and our Clydesdales. And those things are still out there but…I don’t know, it’s just different now.

I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t want to like Budweiser or their beer or anything about those Brazilian jerkwads but I like this commercial.

P.S. Stella tastes like it’s filtered through dirty friggin’ socks and I’m a craft beer girl, anyway, SO THERE, INBEV.