Laundry weirdo, Inspector Clouseau, and texts... no calls

EVERYTHING!

BUT NOTHING!!!

Here is a random one for all y'all's. 


This one comes with a warning label:


IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHO WINO ERIN IS, STAY AWAY FROM THIS ONE, I MAY STRONGLY OFFEND YOU FOR I ONLY SPEAK THA TRUFFE WHEN I DRINK THA 
GEEE-ZUSS JUICE UP IN THA HOOD. 
SENSITIVE AND OVERLY SELF AWARE BEWARE!

I'm drinking a good Chardonnay and watching dance moms, randomly smashing in laundry and folding, smashing and folding, Salem is broadcasting the meow radio show in each corner, and seems to only want food, not attention or play. 

So last night I was working on the laundry disaster and came into the laundry room round midnight to get the last load of the night and there was a strangely dressed very tall man folding my towels, in the most obscure and kinda wrong way. 

Blonde with an accent that was either Dutch, or maybe even Transylvannian or something very different, I don't imagine these two sound anything alike but it was late and he was apologizing for touching my stuff as soon as I walked in the room, probably stayed in too many European Hostels.

Wearing a not so right for him teal sweatshirt with some tourist spot in god knows where across the front, clam digger sweats and high top slippers, and I've never seen him come in or out of the building.

Just because he was strange in appearance or accents doesn't mean I was offended by him folding my towels, even though he was folding them in a very strange way, some European folding technique for people who only own three towels, makes them bulkier and less storable.

I thanked him with a smile for folding my stuff, but he kept apologizing.


I kept telling him that it was fine and very nice of him to do so.

I told him my name was Erin and me and my husband Matthew lived in 305 and he was welcome to borrow a cup of sugar or a couple eggs, and he looked confused and said his name was Mario.

So Mario, you're weird, even by my standards.

I expect people to be kinda "weird" but this was definitely up there on my weird-o-meter.

So the laundry keeps on, it's like it never ends.

I just took a load downstairs and ran into the CENSUS man, YAY!!!

He is some British Codger type modelling his look after Inspector Clouseau, and he just came to my door and asked me:

HOW MANY PEOPLE LIVE HERE?

MARRIED OR SINGLE?

YEAR AND MONTH OF BIRTH?

DRIVE OR BUS?

Not much else, but he managed to complain about the horrible health system in the states, and how he popped his shoulder out in Denver and they had to pop it back in under some "humanity law" and managed to get in several times how he likes my pale skin, somehow not totally creeping me out and violating me. 

Then he said his pen was running out (he was using a pencil) and then told me more about working only three days a week so the government can't thieve too much of your money... and then about his pension not being enough, so he has to have two jobs.... and I am thinking:

well you look pretty healthy other than your fucked up shoulder, which I'm not kidding was as high as his jaw bone and the other was low low low, and somewhat dislocated itself, I kept thinking about how he had something else in him other than brit codger and then he told me about how his mother is Spanish but it was too fast and I started to wonder if he just had all those papers and knew how to look OFFICIAL and really just wanted to talk.


It probably took 20 minutes when it could have taken one minute, tops.


Inspector Clouseau is fucking lonely as fuck and needs to act like he's getting paid cause he's out of his mind and really is just an anarchist in disguise, and now he knows that I'm married and live in 305.


I like how he used my door knocker, three slow raps, and was such a fucking weirdo.

IN OTHER NEWS


What's with people who nevvvvvver answer phone calls, only texts?


Like, I wanna hear your voice.


Now I can feel my blog getting me into trouble again, with the way I say things but shit, I understand a text is noncommittal and you can get around to it whenevz, but c'mon now, to never never never answer a phone call.... what kind of bizarre non communicating humans are we that we don't have a house phone (most people I know)
and don't even answer our cell phones for a chat?


Is it that we like to be able to ponder what we would say in the text, with time for 20/20 hindsight even, some people answering texts two days after they were sent or not at all.
So why do we have modern technology then? If not to use it to our full advantage to: 


COMMUNICATE


Something that I feel can slide so quickly with Facebook and texts, and it's sad really.


When I was 14 and had some stinking, sticky lump of juice filled gossip I'd pick up the phone and call whoever was my BB at the time, and spill, spill spill, orally.


Not this constant and cold feeling texting.


By the way this is just a general view without anyone in particular in mind. 


Ok maybe several.


Throughout many years really, since people stopped answering phone calls and only texting.


I use texting all the time, but whoever I text, I call.


If they pick up or not isn't a determinate of what I think of them as humans, if I care enough to call or text them at all at least I know I can share great and warm moments with them in person. 


Thing is that I long to speak with those I love, and wish that some of them would have the same desire to return my call, and not just pretend it never happened and send me a text of randomosity later on, like a day later, maybe three.


It's funny cause I wonder if why someone wouldn't want to talk with me on a phone they bought and paid for communicating with, if it is just simply a phobia of pushing one's face against something they use with their fingers, or if it's that I always call at the wrong times (blaming myself) or that I'm not cool enough for them (blaming myself)


I also wonder why they would want to struggle through time with me in person if it's so hard to have a convo on the phone real-quick. 


I have had SOOOOOO many friends over the years since this texting technology has been so easy and affordable, and I truly believe it has ruined the way we communicate with one another, some more than others and believe :


"just a text"
or not
can RUIN a friendship, as I have seen with many many people, and have danced on that line myself.


A text is cold unless you can talk to that person later, or always send a heart and an XO.


That's my NO GUFF baby.


TEXTING WTF???


I'll still use it though.


And Facebook.


Instagram too....


But: AND THIS IS IMPORTANT:


 FUCK PINTREST!


GARBAGE! 

THE EMOTICOTION MOTION IN THE TEXTING OCEAN.

AN ANIMAL.




-E.