The Erin O'Brien Owner's Manual for Human Beings

Three dollars for a Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 16:05:00 +0000

$1 The dollar is in very serious trouble. Even his own mom is trying to get rid of him.

$2 The money guys are starting to admit that deregulation was a very, very bad thing. Told you so--I've been crowing about Glass-Steagall for over a year.

$3 Think the US national debt is troublesome? Dig the derivatives market. It's good for about $190,000 per person ON THE PLANET.

And some spare change for a guy who maintains the best economic news aggregate around.

Cold and creamy

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 11:45:00 +0000

I am one of the last American woman who uses cold cream. The store didn't have Pond's, so I bought Suave. I don't care. It's cold cream for chrissake.

I'm not going to tell you what I do with it. Me and the other seven women who still use cold cream are going to stay all mysterious about our cold cream secrets. We think it makes us sexy in a Playtex-18-Hour-Cross-Your-Heart bra kind of way.

For more important historical information about cold cream and how it defies radioactive dirt, I invite my readers to view this concise and entertaining footage:

Being married, vol. 3

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 17:24:00 +0000

At the Offices of Erin O'Brien, Erin O'Brien is obliged to review a vast array of media, including sexual websites such as Beautiful Agony, wherein people film their own faces as they do what people have been doing by themselves ever since they figured out how.

On occasion, the husband of Erin O'Brien will enter the Offices of Erin O'Brien and puzzle over what Erin O'Brien is studying.

* * *

Husband of Erin O'Brien: What's this?

Erin O'Brien: Beautifulagony.com.

Husband of Erin O'Brien: What's she doing?

Erin O'Brien: She's flicking the bean.

Husband of Erin O'Brien: The bean?

Erin O'Brien: The most significant bean associated with the female anatomy.

Husband of Erin O'Brien: Oh, that bean.

The woman fiddles with an off-screen object and a low buzzing ensues. The woman's head jerks back as her eyes and mouth open to perfect O's.

Erin O'Brien: Welp, I think we know what that was.

Husband of Erin O'Brien: Yep.

The husband of Erin O'Brien and Erin O'Brien simultaneously lean in closer to the screen. The husband of Erin O'Brien squints.

Husband of Erin O'Brien: Sounds sort of like a muted leaf blower.

Erin O'Brien: Like if you were in our bedroom with all the windows closed and the neighbors were running their leaf blower.

Husband of Erin O'Brien: Exactly: a muted leaf blower--or maybe a miniature leaf blower.

The husband of Erin O'Brien and Erin O'Brien blink at the screen.

Erin O'Brien: She looks so stunned.

Husband of Erin O'Brien: And surprised.

Erin O'Brien: But why? If anyone should know what's happening, it's her.

Husband of Erin O'Brien: She does hold her future in her own hands.

The woman inhales sharply, squeezes her eyes shut and snaps her head to the side. The husband of Erin O'Brien sucks in his lower lip. Erin O'Brien swallows hard.

Erin O'Brien: Hon?

Husband of Erin O'Brien: Yeah?

Erin O'Brien: Want to go in our bedroom and see if we can hear the neighbor's leaf blower?

Husband of Erin O'Brien: Will you bring your bean?

Erin O'Brien: The bean is already on board, you want to flick it?

Husband of Erin O'Brien: Baby, I was born to flick.

* * *

play windows media

play quicktime

beautifulagony.com

* * *

Available

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 21:34:00 +0000

All of these locations are on a 3.3-mile stretch of Broadview Road, which is the only major business district near my home. Click any image to enlarge.

* * *

The Ninnies

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 14:27:00 +0000

Sports generally confound me.

Look at the shape of a football: it's dumb. Shaq and Lebron only need one more guy and they could open a law office: Put your faith in the Law Offices of Plevinson, O'Neal and James. Those hockey guys look like aliens; and why do people stretch during the seventh inning of a baseball game? What if I want to stretch in the sixth?

Sport is one letter away from spork, which, incidentally, has the same dumb shape as a football.

Despite this weird attitude, I am a Clevelander and I have to care about Cleveland sports. It's a law.

I am obligated to display a good natured aversion towards Denver on account of one John Elway. The same goes for Pittsburgh because of Terry Bradshaw, who is practically a senior citizen by now.

Cleveland fans are downtrodden for many reasons. I won't get into the most obvious, but will mention the announcers. Even if our team does something right, they belittle it. Cleveland Brown Jamal Lewis could run the pigskin through 67 yards of snarling armor-clad Jets, score a spectacular touchdown and the announcers would react with subtle disgust:

Looks like the refs are gonna hand them this one on a platter, Mike.

Heh, heh. Yep, Jim, the Browns pulled another one out of their hat.

When it comes to the New York Yankees, however, I harbor a particular distaste. I call them the Ninnies.

My loathing for "America's Team" began in 2007, when the Cleveland Indians did something unusual: they were winning. The Indians beat the Yankees in the American League series that year, which was hard to notice on account of the national sportscasters. They predictably talked about how the New York Yankees (gasp!) were losing instead of how the Cleveland Indians (shhh!) were winning. The zenith of this outrage ensued when Yankee manager Joe Torre was getting canned on account of his team losing to the Indians.

You could almost a collective sigh of relief coming from the press box. No need to mention those stinky Clevelanders now! Instead, anchors far and wide suspended coverage of the series and thankfully dropped to their knees in order to fellate The Magnificent Torre.

The insufferable lackeys (lickies?) reverently mused over his sparkling career while heroic photos of Torre graced the screen and dramatic music played in the background. Cleveland? What Cleveland?

The entire experience set me squarely and forever against the Ninnies. So, um, go Phillies. This concludes my coverage of the 2009 World Series.

* * *

Human skull

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 13:44:00 +0000

In Voluptas Mors, 1951, photograph by Philippe Halsman, in collaboration with Salvador Dali

The most stunning thing about this work is the point of view of the skull, which feels overwhelmingly masculine despite its feminine composition. He's just an insinuation, yet he completely dominates the image. He is at once evil and laughing.

He is not the sum of his parts. He is the sum of his parts.

The women's feet are delicate and vulnerable as feet and chaotic as teeth. Their flesh appears soft, but when viewed as bone, it's harsh.

Dali was Spanish, Halsman was Latvian. What of the women? What was it like in the studio that day? Imagine how many takes it took to get the women positioned just right.

Then there's Dali sitting on the left. I'm so preoccupied with the skull and the women, that my brain can barely process Dali, yet there he is and will have to be gotten through like all the rest of it.

When something blows up your mind, it's art. This is art.

Imperative companion notes

I am a complete freak for jigsaw puzzles and have one 2,000-piece Dali puzzle, Femme a Tete de Roses.

Growing up, one of my good friends was Latvian. I was frequently invited to family events, wherein tables would overflow with traditional Latvian food. My favorite was pîrâgi, or bacon buns. We pronounced it pea-dog. Now that I've found a recipe, I think I'll bake up a batch. My friend's mom and aunt always used Spam in lieu of bacon or pork. I like the Spam substitution. It fits my Cleveland sensibility.

* * *

Clickity-click-click-click

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 13:18:00 +0000

A day of rest is in order for me, but here's a handful o' funsize treats for you courtesy of some of my more covert associates:

Click here to receive a postcard from a stranger.

Click here to view the first film to use the word vagina in its screenplay--a 1946 Disney effort.

Click here for a peek at a bevy of secrets.

Click here for tips on decorating with motherf***ing gourds.

* * *

Confidential to new readers: Welcome. I'm so glad you're here. Please keep dropping in and commenting, telling me off, turning me on and making me think. You illuminate my tiny corner of the world more than you'll ever know.

* * *

treat treat treat

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 22:37:00 +0000

Hershey Kisses, Nestle Crunch and Zagnut. 100 Grand. Goobers, Raisinettes and SnoCaps.

Laffy Taffy. Nerds and Runts and Spree.

Um, Tootsie Roll?

Pez and Jelly Bellies and Peppermint Puffs. Choco Rocks and Chiclets. Hot Tamales and Candy Sips. Pillow Mints, Zots and Twizzlers.

Starlight Mints and Butterscotch Discs.

Blast pops, Pixie Sticks. Kooky Chews. Dots, Chunkies and Licorice Snaps. Bit-O’Honey and Mary Janes; Necco Wafers and Razzles.

OH Henry!

Reese's Cups, Baby Ruth, and Snickers. Twix.

**Butterfinger**

B-B-Bats, Lemonheads, Atomic Fireballs. Mounds and Almond Joy. Milk Duds. Malted Milk Balls and Charms Pops. Junior Mints.

PoP RoCks.

Good and Plenty and Double Bubble. Mike and Ike, Jujubes. Skittles, Gummy Bears and m&m spells mmmmmm.

Now and Laters.

Now and Laters?

Now and Laters!

Now, and … later and later and later.

The preceding post was inspired by b. a. Sweetie Candy Company and Halloween!

An intimate speaking engagement

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 13:29:00 +0000

List

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 15:18:00 +0000

1. There is a ballerina in my soap.

2. I love the word bejeweled.

3. Only three windows in my house have blinds.

4. I've never read the Bible.

5. Part of me is always sad.

6. I have brown eyes.

7. Sometimes I call the Goat a warlock.

8. I live next to a Serbian church.

9. My other neighbor's dog is named Sassy.

10. Elizabeth Shue hugged me fourteen years ago.

11. I love to choose cars for my fictional characters.

12. I once maintained a website exclusively for my erotic writing.

13. There is a bottle of 100 proof Rumple Minze liqueur on the window sill of my office.

14. I make a good scalloped potato.

15. I have a friend who was a heavyweight world champion cage fighter.

15. My great-grandmother's name was Emily.

16. My favorite piece of jewelry is a Zuni bracelet.

17. I love that my kid loves salted licorice.

18. I once had a 17-pound cat named Al.

19. I buy luxury sheets, but can only afford the "slightly imperfect" ones they sell at TJMaxx.

20. I am a terrible housekeeper.

21. I have a medal that reads "2 MILE RUN Ohio University June 5-1905" that was garnered by my great grandfather.

22. My favorite number is 22/7, aka pi.

23. I have an old Schwinn "Hollywood" that I pulled from a trash pile.

24. My house is not air-conditioned.

25. There are things I am not telling you.

26. My chewy brownies won third prize in a bake-off when I was eight.

27. I walk 20 to 30 miles a week.

28. I am afraid of the ocean.

29. I always listen to "The Pina Colada Song" in its entirety when it plays randomly on my iPod.

30. I possess magical powers.

31. The Serbian church hosts loud elaborate week-end long parties.

32. I used to travel constantly for my job.

33. This bunny is cute and I adore the person who sent it to me.

34. I love to pet and nuzzle the Goat.

35. I have reed scent diffusers all over my house.

36. I used to cough for 10 minutes every morning when I smoked.

37. My first car was a $200 10-year-old VW Bug.

38. It ran for two weeks before throwing a rod and dying.

39. I have never been overseas.

40. Unless Jamaica counts.

41. I don't want an iPhone.

42. I hate macaroni salad.

43. I climaxed the first time I had sex.

44. I paint my toenails sometimes.

45. I don't paint my fingernails.

46. My hair is 20 inches long.

47. I miss my dad.

48. I have triumphed over evil people.

49. I married the Goat in a private ceremony in my parent's living room.

50. I found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

51. I floss daily.

52. I wonder if there is such a thing as plastic underwear.

53. I remember biorhythm charts.

54. Strangers talk to me all the time.

55. My letter opener is a tiny faux sword.

56. I LOVE Jelly Bellies.

57. I have screamed at tombstones.

58. I have visions.

59. My grandfather became wealthy manufacturing instrumentation for the military in WWII.

60. I think pomegranates are weird.

61. I physically repel at the site of a gun.

62. Men.

63. Treating people well is more important to me than anything else.

64. I will probably get breast cancer.

65. I cannot do cartwheels.

66. My Kitchenaid mixer is over 50 years old.

67. My Gram pulled it out of a garbage pile and gave it to me. It works perfectly.

68. I make my own chicken stock.

69. I am terrible at parallel parking.

70. I played the clarinet in grade school.

71. The Goat just brought me coffee.

72. I waited for him to return to the kitchen before using the landline to call him on the cell phone to say thank you.

73. This is fun.

74. Sudoku drives me crazy.

75. I love jigsaw puzzles.

76. My kid is beautiful.

77. I am chubby.

78. I love Johnny Cash.

79. I fantasize about ballroom dancing.

80. Down dog is my favorite yoga position.

81. I like silly hats.

82. I long to have better style, but never will.

83. I always fall asleep on the couch.

84. My house is surrounded by trees.

85. I am an artist.

86. There are 2974 songs in my iTunes program.

87. I made throw pillows from my dad's Pendelton shirts after he died and gave them to my mom for her birthday.

88. I have flown in a helicopter.

89. Coffee ice cream, please.

90. Profound grief almost killed me before I realized it was a gift.

91. I was 32 when my kid was born.

92. I have nice legs.

93. I like to play with men's nipples.

94. A very talented seamstress designed and sewed the outfit I wore on my wedding day.

95. The Missionary position is my favorite.

96. I am superstitious.

97. I make a wonderful apple crisp.

98. I am a lot like my dad.

99. I loved algebra and trigonometry and calculus.

100. Hi. I'm Erin.

First posted in August 2007. Original comments left intact.

Being married, vol. 2

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 13:56:00 +0000

My dearly beloved and I are watching television.

I pick up the remote and with the push of a button, I vanquish some inane sporting event ("the New York whos?") and the screen fills with a bevy of chefs scurrying around a TV kitchen set with armfuls of kale, slabs of tuna, or bowls of ganache. They're racing against a competition clock as they frantically try to create an appetizer in 20 minutes, dinner for 400 society snobs, or a towering cake for bridezilla in eight hours.

Be it Chopped, Iron Chef, or Dinner Impossible (with--be still my heart--Robert Irvine, who's the latest addition to the short list), I'm addicted to all of them, even that miserable Chef Ramsey's Hell's Kitchen show.

Not my husband.

"What are we watching?" my husband will say as a sweat-beaded team moves a towering doughnut-shaped cake, complete with a phallic Marge Simpson on its top, to the display table.

"This is ... um ... " I hesitate, " ... this is called ... " My husband awaits my response with knitted brow. Then a brilliant idea dawns!

"This is called," I say confidently, "suburban middle-aged guys with receding hairlines watch football then get blowjobs from chicks in mini-kilts and knee-hi tube socks." I smile broadly then add, "with big boobs."

"Really?" says my dearly beloved.

"Yeah," I say, nodding emphatically, "with beer and lots of sports scores."

"No kidding?"

"Uh-huh," I say, "And golf stuff. And Hooters chicks with wings. And cheese dip."

"Sounds like a pretty good program," he says.

We turn to the television wherein a panel of judges scrutinize a statuesque Homer Simpson, forged from golden fondant.

"Just give it a few minutes to warm up," I say.

My splendid king blinks a few times, then returns to the sports page. I click to see what's coming up next on Bravo's Top Chef.

* * *

Being married, vol. 1

* * *

An honest question for conservatives and libertarians

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 14:51:00 +0000

What country today models the type of government you'd like to see in the United States? Who is doing government the right way right now?

I'm not asking for a vision of conservative utopia, just a place that loosely follows the doctrine.

Call for entries: Official Gitmo Torture Playlist

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 17:59:00 +0000

Tweople are requested to post their suggestions on Twitter. Others should feel free to utilize the comment section herein.

Special thanks to GTZ for planting the seed for this diabolical plan. Somewhere, Dick Cheney is smiling.

Brace yourself

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 18:52:00 +0000

My kid had to use those tiny rubber bands on her braces that help adjust the teeth. Sometimes she had to use strong rubber bands, sometimes weak. But dig this: the rubber bands weren't delineated by a number or color system. They were named after countries.

There was New Zealand and Switzerland and Italy, which is the weakest rubber band. The strongest rubber band my kid had to use was Japan, which was pretty strong, but not as strong as Korea. Korea is the strongest rubber band available (one of the orthodontist's assistants told me that).

Even though the rubber band portion of the Braces Trauma was over weeks ago, I'm still finding tons of itty bitty Italys and Japans all over the house, as if the kid was shooting them out like it was some sort of trick orthodontic slingshot. They're squished in the corners of the bathroom vanity drawers, they come out in the laundry, and they still pepper every carpeted surface of the house. They're like needles from a Christmas tree; I'll still be finding them in six months.

Other people swallow the Italy and Japan orthodontic rubberband thing whole and move on. Not me.

I wonder who came up with the countries-for-orthodontic-rubber-band name system. I cannot find the brand on the internet. Perhaps it was a disgruntled Korean man or woman, or someone who does not like Italy.

Note: As I took today's photo, my daughter asked me if the rubber band was just there or if I planted it for the photo. I told her it was just there (truth). Then she said, "That's a Japan. Italys were really wimpy and if that had been an Italy it totally would have been broken."

Artifact

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 16:10:00 +0000

In 1961, young Chris Kendall broke a fall by grabbing for a hot stove. The burn was bad enough to require medical attention. Behold the resulting paperwork in its entirety:

One slip of paper denoting a three dollar and 25 cent bill--stunning, no matter which side of the healthcare reform issue you are on.

Click the image to enlarge. Many thanks to Darryl Kendall for sharing this with me. Darryl is available at jckendall[AT]adelphia.net.

* * *

cool/uncool

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 11:23:00 +0000

Lipstick stains are cool.

Old underwear is uncool.

Vintage magic posters are cool.

Beatniks are cool.

Cats are cool.

Calling beatniks "cats" is cool.

Catfights are not cool.

Not cool is different from uncool.

Beer guys are cool.

Guys in kilts are cool.

Guys out of kilts are cool.

Being lukewarm is uncool.

Getting hot is cool.

Parking meters are uncool.

Saying uncool is uncool.

Standing in the "dental" aisle of the discount grocery for 10 minutes staring at the rows of toothpaste while you try to decide between advanced fresh, whitening, and anti-gingivitis is uncool.

Dandruff is uncool.

Vitamins are uncool.

Knowing that toothpaste indecision, dandruff and vitamins are uncool is uncool.

John McCain is uncool.

Meghan McCain is cool.

Silk stockings are cool.

Support hose are uncool.

Sunglasses are cool.

Obama is cool.

Cover-ups are uncool.

Undercover agents are cool.

Being under the covers is cool.

Coolers are cool.

Wine coolers are uncool.

Wine is cool.

Whining is uncool.

Vespas are cool.

Hummers are uncool.

Fishmongers are cool.

Fearmongers are uncool.

Fishmongers throwing fish at fearmongers is cool.

I am cool.

I am uncool.

Being uncool is cool.

* * *

What is sexy?

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 17:18:00 +0000

One of the things that surfaced during my research for the RealDoll story was the topic of real women. Many of the doll owners complained that "RealGirls" just want good-looking young men or wealthy and powerful men. One even referenced Hugh Hefner and his little darlings and I laughed out loud at my computer screen.

Maybe that's fine for the trophy wives and their respective hunters, but babies, if you want to know sexy, Erin know sexy.

I'm not going to give you that tired old list of looking-into-my-eyes, rubbing-my-feet, champagne and strawberries stuff. I am 44 years old for chrissake. I can do a little better than that. Here goes:

-Overtipping the overworked lunch waitress is sexy (and I mean just slipping a few extra bills under the sugar bowl without making a big showy deal of it).

-I do not miss smoking, but I do miss men lighting my cigarette.

-Whispering something sophisticated and funny in my ear at a dinner party is sexy.

-Work Chinos are sexy. So are the men in them. I don't care about that beer belly, darlin'.

-Desire is sexy. I'm not talking about simply being horny, I'm talking about profound desire, the sort that says I want you. I want to be as close as two people can be, to draw you into me and put my mouth on your mouth and have you so completely that the edges between us blur.

-Taking both my hands in either of your hands and pulling them up above my head and holding them there with our fingers interlaced while we kiss in bed is sexy.

-The concept of coupling is sexy.

-I've watched many people climax. Almost all of them get a smoky satisfied look in the moment between the apex and the denouement--arguably the very essence of sexy.

The sexiest thing a man can do is love women for who they are, for their crow's feet and bad coffee and tears.

Twilight in Northeast Ohio

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 11:57:00 +0000

I am conducting a whole slew of guided discussions for the Cuyahoga County Public Library system. Illuminating Twilight covers all four books in Stephenie Meyer's popular vampire series.

The kids have the best time with this. They simply love talking about the books and I love seeing them get pumped up about reading. Plenty of adults attend as well. Sometimes I even get mom/daughter teams, which is wonderful.

Here's the schedule:

Parma Hts. Branch, Oct. 22, 7 - 8:30 p.m.
Strongsville Branch, Oct. 26, 7 - 8:30 p.m.
Middleburgh Hts. Branch, Oct. 28, 7 - 8:30 p.m.
Bay Village Branch, Oct. 29, 7 - 8:30 p.m.
Fairview Park Branch, Oct. 31, 2 - 3:30 p.m. (boo!)
Brecksville Branch, Nov. 4, 7 - 8:30 p.m.
Maple Hts. Branch, Nov. 5, 7 - 8:30 p.m.
Mayfield Branch, Nov. 10, 3:30 - 5 p.m.
North Olmsted Branch, Nov. 16, 7 - 8:30 p.m.
Solon Branch, Nov. 17, 7 - 8:30 p.m.
Brookpark Branch, Nov. 18, 7 - 8:30 p.m.

This great mix of vampires and literature is fun and free. Contact the CCPL for more info.

* * *

Who the hell's Wolf?

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 10:07:00 +0000

Best Balloon Boy montage to date:

The old hospital

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 01:48:00 +0000

The Army Veterans Hospital in Broadview Heights (south of CLE proper) opened in 1939 and catered mainly to WWII veterans. After the war, it housed tuberculosis patients. In 1965 the facility was transferred to the Ohio Department of Mental Hygiene and facilitated people with disabilities, many of which were children. It officially closed in 1992.

The City of Broadview Heights purchased the complex from the state in 1996 and moved the municipal administration to the adjacent Thorin Building. The old portion of the hospital was essentially abandoned, with much of the equipment and medical records still inside.

With no heat or maintenance, and area animals finding shelter inside, the vacant hospital fell into startling decay within a few years. To make matters worse, teenagers, homeless and the curious were constantly getting into the building, which was also rumored to be haunted.

Controversy always swirled around the old hospital, from the way it was abandoned to whether or not it contained asbestos and black mold. The building was razed in 2006. I was a local reporter in this area from 2001 through 2006 and the old VA hospital was often the subject of my beat. I had a chance to "tour" the interior of the hospital before the wrecking ball put it in it's grave.

I will never forget the inside of that building. Here are some pictures I took that day. Click on any to enlarge.

I expected it to feel creepy inside--and the space absolutely had a specific energy, but it thrummed with an overwhelming sadness. It was the saddest place I've ever experienced.

Metal cribs were strewn about in one ward. They included locking tops and resembled cages more than anything else.

The exterior of the building was literally falling down before the city could amass enough funds to demolish it.

Many of my best photos went to the publication I was writing for at the time. The industrial kitchen, with its massive mixing machines and ovens, should have been cool, but it just felt empty and sad like the rest of the facility. The operating room was horrible, with decrepit cases of knives and drills lining the walls.

The chapel remained as one of the least damaged portions of the facility.

The curtains were cropped so children couldn't reach and climb them. At some point in the 70s, the grounds surrounding the hospital were opened up as sporting fields for local clubs. One of my neighbors still recalls hearing the screams of the patients through open windows on warm summer days as he played soccer in the front lawn.

It was terrible and dangerous inside the old hospital. There was broken glass and dangling debris everywhere. I had to sign a release and don a protective mask before I could enter.

By the time I toured the hospital, much of the contents were gone, but what was left still told stories ...

... and told and told and told.

I was fascinated with the demolition of the building. On one unseasonably chilly afternoon in September 2006, I watched for a few hours along with a small crowd as two backhoes chewed away at a particularly obstinate wing. A massive steel bucket pounded away on one side of the annex while a giant jaw-like claw bit away at the other.

Just before 6 p.m., a plume of steam shot from one of the machines after a particularly violent fight with a tangle of rebar. The bucket shuddered and clamored to the ground. The huge steel arm curled under and the vehicle retreated, victim to a severed hydraulic line. The claw, however, kept on with the pummeling--at least until one of the crew began yelling at the operator. Something was out of whack with backhoe number two--one of its pins, a 2.5" solid steel rod--had snapped like a toothpick. The crew hung it up for the night.

"Both machines broke," one of the workers told me as he fingered the busted piece of steel.

It was as dramatic and symbolic a fight as I've ever witnessed. It was so real. The men, the hospital, we who watched, the rugged backhoes--we were all involved in the fray. Each of us had a point of view.

I respected the hospital that day, and the way she wasn't going to give up without a fight.

* * *

Related links:

Another page featuring the old VA hospital with many more photos and pages from patients' records. Whomever took these undoubtedly was in the facility a few years before me.

This slideshow of old asylum images was the impetus of this post.

The Wiki article on the facility.

* * *

Matters of great import

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 16:35:00 +0000

My novel Harvey & Eck will go out of print at the end of 2009. Please purchase several hundred copies before it's too late. More info here.

Erin O'Brien has something in common with Joan Blondell.

This post is visited more often than any other on my blog, which as of 12:33 p.m. EST on Oct. 17, 2009, has garnered 472, 406 hits.

I had a cottage cheese/green bean/fried salami sandwich for lunch.

That is all.

Stop playing with yourself and watch this

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 12:30:00 +0000

Universal tale told through Internet ads

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 11:47:00 +0000

* * *

Stuff goes in:

Stuff comes out:

You croak:

* * *

Riddle me this ....

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 12:44:00 +0000

.... Libraries didn't put bookstores out of business.

Public schools didn't take away a parent's choice to send Junior to a private school.

The UPS didn't get in the way of FedEx or UPS.

Public transportation doesn't discourage people from buying cars.

Why then are people afraid of a public health insurance option?

* * *

The American Dream on a budget

noreply@blogger.com (Erin O'Brien) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 13:12:00 +0000