Introducing...

I always wondered what made me procrastinate or lose focus on whatever I'm working on.  I think I figured it out.

But the good news is he has an arch nemesis.  So...

CAPTAIN DISTRACTO

VS.

Their Adventures to come, so stay tuned!

Heh. She's a Lizard.

Comic Strip 1

The following is an illustrated interpretation of an actual phone conversation I had with my younger sister.  This conversation is real and all the words in it are real.

The Pee Shorts

When I was little, my parents taught me never to interrupt adults while they’re talking.  This is all well and good, unless you’re a highly anxious child who takes everything as literally as possible.

One time, when I was in 3^rd grade, I had to go to the bathroom during PE.  I went to the coach to ask permission but she was talking with another coach.  So I waited patiently.

She didn’t seem to notice me.  I think I had the power of invisibility when I was little and just didn’t know it—had I known, I could have harnessed it and used it to sneak away to pee without even NEEDING permission.

After a few minutes, I started to feel more pressure in my bladder.

Neither of the coaches appeared to have noticed me yet.

At this point, no one else existed on any real, immediate level; the coaches and I were in our own little bubble of space and time, to go through this experience together.

The following action might have caused me embarrassment, with all my peers around.  But because of the bubble, I didn’t notice them.

So I held myself.

Then I bounced around a little, both as a way to keep my bladder distracted from being so full and also to garner some attention.  

 

It didn’t work.

But once I’d started the movement, I couldn’t stop it, because now my bladder was used to the movement; if the movement stopped, there would be no distraction for my bladder and it would find the discomfort too painful to withstand.

So I kept moving.

Finally I had the good sense to say, “Excuse me, Coach?”

But, without even looking at me, she said, “Just a minute,” and kept telling some story to the other coach.

I waited as patiently as an eight-year-old with a full bladder can possibly wait.  I was more—much more—patient, in fact.

But eventually, my body was telling me it had reached critical status.

So I found a pause in their conversation and knew I had to strike while the iron was getting ready to be peed on.

Me: “Excuse me, Coach?”

Coach: “Shh—Don’t interrupt grownups when they’re talking”

Me: “But”—

Coach: “Hush! Or I’ll make you sit in Time Out.”

At this point, I was willing to risk getting punished if it meant I could sneak off to the bathroom.  I ran through the school layout in my head.  What is the proximity of the Time Out zone to the closest bathroom?  Not close enough to do me any good and therefore not worth getting in trouble over (my worst fear in grade school).

So I didn’t say anything else, and waited, hoping, praying that she would finish her story soon and let me ask my question.

But she didn’t.

And I didn’t get to.

So right there, while standing next to her…

In broad daylight, with my classmates all around, playing games with their stupid empty bladders.

The cherry on top was that when the teacher noticed this, instead of sympathy or an apology for not listening to my question, I got scolded.  I’m not sure what her reasoning was as to how this was the eight-year-old’s fault, as opposed to the 30-something-year-old but oh well.  I was sent (as if for punishment) to the office.  I remember that walk of shame vividly.  The breezeway, inside the building, passing the bathroom I never got to use, down the hall, into the main lobby, past the cafeteria and into the office, all the while hoping no one saw me, Pee-Girl.

In the office, the front desk lady looked at me with what I perceived at the time to be an expression of displeasure and disgust.

She quickly directed me to the nurse, who pulled out a box of lost-and-found clothing, which she used for emergencies just like this.

The upside was the nurse (who was always very nice to me) let me pick out whichever pants I wanted to wear (though the only that would fit were a pair of boy’s denim shorts) while she told me that I shared my last name with the great and famous Dallas Cowboy, Michael Irvin.  I said I know because my dad told me that because he loves the Cowboys.  She then said Michael Irvin was her nephew and told me the story of how he got picked by the Cowboys and some other boring stuff I don’t remember but at the time was very excited to relay to my father.

I remember those denim shorts too.  They were snug and had that annoying denim-y texture that gave me the heebie jeebies when I touched it.

I also remember feeling doubly weird about the fact that I had no underwear on, because of course, I’d soaked them in my urine.  And the feeling of my bare skin against the denim shorts felt so wrong, especially knowing they belonged to someone else

who was also a boy.

I wondered under what circumstances these items of clothing came to be in the lost-and-found?  A coat I could understand—a belt, maybe.  But bottoms and tops?  Looking back on it, I realize that they probably belonged to kids who, like I, had peed on themselves and needed new ones.  I suppose sometimes they forgot to take home their soiled clothes.  I can only hope that the nurse or somebody thought to wash those things before just passing them on to another kid to wear.  One would think so.  But, this was, after all, the early nineties, before people were as adherent to hygiene practices as they are today, so I can’t be sure.

But here’s the kicker and why I’m pretty sure God has an insane and also slightly cruel sense of humor and often enjoys including me in the punch lines of these jokes.

The outfit I wore to school that day was one of my favorites.  To go along with the summery, watermelon design on the shirt, my bottoms…well, they were…

And they were that color BEFORE I had my accident.

I swear, irony follows me around like a trail of toilet paper stuck to your shoe.

Egg Social

Totally forgot this existed.  I did this back in '08, to entertain myself when I was bored at 2 AM.  Also, this happened while I was attending Leeds Uni, so it always reminds me of England:)

PS. I did this with one egg.  The eyebrows, eyelashes, bow-tie, and handles of the sunglasses are little pieces of tape, but the lenses, mask, hair, and face dots are Sharpie.  I probably had way too much fun doing this.

T-Shirt Idea 3

I Have Incredibly Strong Powers of Persuasion

But only with myself. I know this because I’ve taken note of situations in which my powers of persuasion work. For instance, sometimes I am out of stuff and I need to go to the store and get more. Sometimes this stuff is vitamins or shampoo. Other times it’s more important and necessary stuff, like toilet paper or food. Most of the time it is all of those things together because I wait so long that I’m out of everything. So I make a list and then I make a plan for when I will go, which is usually on my way home from work. Because once I’m home for the day, I don’t want to leave again. It takes a very awesome, enticing, made-especially-for-Erin treat to get me to leave the house once I’ve come home for the day. Like a movie I really, really want to see (sometimes even that’s not good enough).

Or the promise of lots and lots of snow that I can play in.

Or a present, like…

A rainbow-tailed pony with tattoos of tinier rainbow-tailed ponies all over its body!

And saddlebags full of both sweet and savory snacks to consume on the ride!

Or the ice-cream man is here (and even then I have to hear the music, to prove it’s true, before I’ll go outside).

Don’t get me wrong—I love the outside. But on days that I am forced to go out, like for work or errands or social obligations, I despise being out (especially during the summer, in Texas) and all I want is to go inside and work on my own, quiet, activities from the comfort of my home.

Anyway, the plan is set and has been set probably for several days, because I tend to set my plans for days in advance just to give myself ample time to mentally, emotionally, and physically prepare for the task(s). And then the day rolls around and I’m like, “Today is the day. After work, I must go to the store."

But then I go to work, get distracted from my self pep talk, forget all about what I was pepping myself up for, and then absentmindedly start to think about all the awesomely fun things I’m going to do when I get home and what delicious snack I will enjoy.

Then I remember.

And every time it’s like hearing a story about someone’s dog getting run over, which is especially sad because you knew that dog (well, you didn’t know him per say, but you met him a couple of times and had a nice play in the yard, with a stick), but also you have suddenly and mysteriously contracted amnesia, so your short-term memory is shot, so you forget everything outside of a ten second thought cycle, so you forget about the dog, think some more happy thoughts, then the person, who strangely knows all about your sudden and mysterious short-term memory loss, tells the story again, about the dog getting run over, because this person is a sadist, and this continues on and on throughout your day till you feel exhausted by the emotional roller coaster, but you don’t know why because of the amnesia, which you don’t know you have, because it’s fucking amnesia.

I think, on the day of, I subconsciously force myself to forget, as some sort of defense mechanism, or self-preservation against braving the wild of the outside world.

Especially the grocery store.

Because of such horrors, I’ve trained myself to believe there is only one track in my mind and no stops except the one at the end, called ‘Home’.

And the hour creeps closer and then it becomes a countdown to the moment when I know I must sacrifice my personal time to do things that will keep me alive and healthy.

But after a while, I remember that I was supposed to have already resigned myself to it.

I know it must be done, so I grit my teeth and say, “Get over it. Just do it because you know you have to and if you run through the store fast enough then maybe you can be in and out and only be ten minutes later than usual getting home!” So I get in my car, fully intending to stop at the store or the post office or the bank or whatever other boring but necessary buildings you can think of—oh! the oil-changing place for your car. Yeah, that one’s real boring.

Then, something magical starts to happen…My brain—completely independent of me—begins to throw out reasons why I shouldn’t go, or reasons why I don’t really have to go as bad as I previously thought I did.

I’ve done enough today, I deserve to relax.

There’s still enough toilet paper for at least two more pees, maybe three, if I conserve. So we’re not totally out.

They’re just vitamins I can skip one day—it’s not like a prescription medication—I can stop whenever I want—vitamins don’t rule my life! You can’t tell me what to do, vitamins, you’re not the boss of me‼

There is still that can of lima beans and a whole sleeve of crackers left. Plus there’s always Ramen. So I can’t really say I don’t have food and I need more. People are starving all over the world. How picky and spoiled am I? What, am I too good for Ramen now?

There are plenty of dishes you can make out of cream corn and Nutella…

Or maybe just the one.

Or maybe you’re better off just eating them individually.

And guess what, fatty? If you don’t buy groceries you will be forced to eat what’s in your pantry and then you’ll be eating super healthy and also not very much portion-wise, which will all serve to help you lose weight. I bet you can’t even do it—I bet you don’t even have it in you to eat that can of spinach for dinner.

Yep, all by itself.

 

Oh, you think you can? Prove it then. Go straight home and cook that spinach and eat it all for dinner with nothing else and then you can say you have conquered the act of eating.

Plus, if you chicken out, you can still order a Jimmy John’s sandwich and they will deliver so you still won’t have to leave the house. Mmm…Jimmy John’s. Yep. That’s dinner tonight. Way better than the spinach. I should save that anyway, in case of an emergency. Like what if the Jimmy John’s closes suddenly without warning?

Or what if someone comes over and I want them to leave but they stay until it’s clearly dinner time?  Solution: When food is brought up I can offer them the spinach. Spinach has an amazing knack for clearing a room.

 

  

Or in the case of a zombie invasion, I can use the hefty can of spinach to throw at a zombie’s decaying head.

 

It’s head will be so soft and the can so hard that it will go through the undead skull, like a meat tenderizer going through a jello mold, and that will take care of one zombie.

 

And if I can get past the thought of putting my hand into zombie brains to retrieve the can, I can use it against other zombies until they’re all gone because a can of spinach is the weapon that keeps on giving!

Spinach makes you strong because spinach itself is strong all on its own.

 

The cylindrical suit of armor reinforces that.

How did this become all about spinach all of a sudden?

Anyway, I also do this thing where I stupidly try to overthrow my much stronger subconscious self, who is controlling my brain, and I say things like, “Well, I still have time to go—I’m not home yet. Even though I’ve passed the grocery store, there is still that CVS on the corner.” Then, “Even though I passed the CVS on the corner, there is still that dollar store in the shopping center, across the street from my neighborhood.” Then, “Even though I passed the dollar store in the shopping center, across the street from my neighborhood, there is still that gas station. Gas stations probably have toilet paper at least—that’s the most important thing I need anyway.”

“Okay, now I’ve passed the gas station and I’m pulling into my apartment complex. If I pee more than twice for the rest of the night, I can always borrow some toilet paper from my roommate—or, in the event that he, too, is out, I can always ask the person next door, which, yes, will require me to leave the apartment, but at least I won’t have to walk down the stairs.”

“Or I can just hold my pee till I get to work tomorrow morning!”

Sometimes I also tell myself that if I’m not going to go to the place where I can get all the things, then there’s no point in going anywhere because I need all the things equally so I might as well wait till I can go to the place with all the things, because I certainly don’t want to have to go to two different places to get all my things. And this feels like a firm resolution and almost the same as the feeling of accomplishment I get when I’ve actually gone to the place and gotten all the things I need.

Thus, I end up at home, sans stuff, but still feeling pretty good about myself for making what is clearly the best choice. So I decide to reward myself for all the hard work I’ve done today and all the responsible behavior I exhibited both during and after work (having a logical train of thought and a reasonable discussion with myself totally qualifies as very adult-like, responsible behavior) and order myself a Jimmy John’s sandwich, and watch that documentary about lions on my Netflix Instant Queue.

 

 

See?? Extremely strong powers of persuasion!

Or I guess you could also call it having little to no will power.

But I’m a glass-half-full kinda girl.


PS. I will give someone a prize if they dare to actually make a batch of inverted chocolate chip cookies successfully.

PPS. But it has to LITERALLY be opposite—as in, melted chocolate chip balls with tiny balls of cookie dough mixed in.

PPPS. Bad idea? Good idea? Disgusting? Or the most delicious thing ever…?

PPPPS. There isn’t actually a physical prize if you do this. It’s more of a “I will send four minutes worth of happy, positive thoughts your way,” kind of thing.