Clevette

In this week's Scene, I pit our local Cleviosi against the Guidiosi of MTV's Jersey Shore fame in Goodbye Guido, Hello Clevo.

Hey Snookie? Kiss my ass.

Hot potato

In my column this week, I give up the secret of a great potato pancake.

If you have something to say about it, you can comment on the article directly (via the above link), or you may tell me off here, or feel free to email my editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom.

Mowing on a Rainy Day

In my column this week, I muse on the nuances of mowing the lawn.

And if you hop over there, yes, that is a picture of me at age 12; and yes, that really is how much smoke used to come out of that miserable old mower.

If you have something to say about any of this, Scene's new website has a user-friendly comment section and you can comment on the article directly (via the above link), or you may tell me off here, or feel free to email my editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom.

A Rainy Day for Conservatives

In my column this week, I solemnly deliver a Conservative eulogy.

If you have something to say about it, Scene's new webpage has a user-friendly comment section and you can comment on the article directly (via the above link), or you may tell me off here, or feel free to email my editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom.

Now then, as promised in the article, here are the links to the quotes therein:

Oldandevil2 musing on Obama supporters.

Velociman musing on Obama's inauguration.

And Dan O, who just pines for the end.

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Calling all Rainy Day Women

In my column this week, I detail my fall before a hard cell.

If you have something to say about it, please email my editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom.

Rainy Day Recession

In my column this week, I toss out a few ideas on how to keep living large in the face of a shrinking economy. For those who might think I'm sitting over here casting crumbs from a throne, no way, baby. There is not one suggestion in my essay that didn't originate from the Offices of Erin O'Brien and points contingent. Erin walk the walk. Below are some photos to prove it.

Tough times have descended upon the Cleveland Scene as well, which is why my column isn't running as frequently. They've also cut back on published letters. But if you feel the need to tell my editor you love me or hate me, email Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom.


Hidden bottles in my toilet tank. Too bad they ain't vodka.


The Poly Perk coffee pot. mmm ... That Maxwell House sure is fine!


Suave and Pabst and Valu Time. Generic is us, baby.


Does Carlo Rossi come in single-serve cans?


Snack time! I've got a two pound brick of Velveeta. Pass the Triscuits and Vlasics.


The dreaded giant pork. Look at the size of the behemoth compared to the Campbell's soup can!

A model citizen

For this week's Scene, I've written an honest accounting about what it's like to have a sexy boudoir photo taken at a professional studio. Now let me introduce you to a "Model Citizen."

The pictures were taken at Posh Portraits, which is here in Northeast Ohio. Owner/photographer Sarah Kraus was just terrific as were her stylists Jenna Lowe and Natalie Sanders. They were all professional and so so fun. I can't say enough about them.

Here's a bunch of pix I took during the shoot. I've also included some of the professional shots (courtesy of Posh Portraits) that did not run in Scene.

I had a blast with this assignment and I hope the essay and what I've posted here shed some light on this popular trend.

Onto the pictures. For the record, nothing in this post has been Photoshopped.

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Raw Erin. On my way to Posh Portraits with no make-up and just-shampooed hair.


Jenna Lowe transformed me into a starlet! She's cool ...


... so was Natalie Sanders, who muscled my giant hair into a slick do.


Who is this chick? Oh yeah, it's me!


These eyelashes were so giant, they deserved pet names. Maybe Mash and Dash?


Somebody hand me my phone. Gotta call my homie Dorothy and tell her I found her dress.


Got bling?


No hat for me but it sure looks good on you.


Shoe-gasm! I'm all over these ruby slippers, baby.


Tons of hip places to take a pic in this snazzy studio.


Photographer and Posh Portrait studio owner Sarah Kraus. She is so down.


A runner-up photo. Are those really my legs?


The photo that ran in the Scene before any photoshop retouching.


Not the most comfortable position, but the pic came out nice.


I guess this is what it's like to have a mirrored ceiling in the bedroom. Yikes!


And despite the fact that there are many many many Photoshop opportunities in this last one, I can't resist posting it for Al the Retired Army Guy, Velociman, James Old Guy and Hoosierboy.


When I got home, my kid was fascinated with the eyelashes. Look what she did with them when I took them off. Ha! You are so crazy, kid I love it!



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Thanks so much to all the crew over at Posh Portraits, to my editor for this plum assignment and perhaps most importantly to all my readers. I'm nothing without you.

I'm laying down some rules

In my column this week, I lay down a few general guidelines to help kick off 2009 with some semblance of order.

If you have something to say about it, please email my editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom and be sure to include your full name and city.

Before anyone asks, no that is not my picture in the associated link and for pity's sake have a happy New Year!

A Rainy Day Drive

In my column this week, I pit man against woman against the open road.

If you have something to say about it, please email my editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom and be sure to include your full name and city.

Confidential to KJ: I'm afraid not, baby. But here's a picture of mine for good measure.

Stupid things I own, vol. 14

I used to do these more often.

Seems like my column got bumped for another week. But ironically, when I looked at this pic, I realized there was a little Rainy Day Woman to be had therein. For starters, I bought today's stupid thing at Disney. There's also more than meets the eye to the Goats do Roam bottle.

erf!

Rainy Day for Barack Obama

In my Rainy Day Woman column for today's Cleveland Scene, I offer my endorsement for Senator Barack Obama's presidential bid.

If you have something to say about it, please email my editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom and be sure to include your full name and city.

A Rainy Day Funny and damn if we couldn't use it right now ...

In my Rainy Day Woman column this week, I offer up some uncommon sense for the next President of the United States.

If you have something to say about it, please email my editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom and be sure to include your full name and city.

Howdy, boys

My essay "The Conception of Slavery" garnered several letters to the editor, four of which were published in today's Scene.* Interestingly enough, they were all penned by men.

Thanks to everyone who writes my editor, past and present. I appreciate all readers, all points of view and all comments all the time, whether they are in print or online.

*Regarding that link, read carefully as the online formatting is a bit glitchy today.

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The Conception of Slavery

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Please send any comments for publication to Cleveland Scene Editor Frank Lewis at flewisATclevesceneDOTcom.

Surviving Cleveland Style

Erin's note: the following was originally intended to be a "Rainy Day Woman" entry--at least in some form, but I have posted this version here as the future of my column is now uncertain. If you have something to say about that, please email Cleveland Scene Editor Frank Lewis at flewis@clevescene.com.

I was languid on the couch in the 90-degree heat, blinking at the television and sweating as copiously as my glass of iced whiskey and soda. The images on the box were little more than moving lights, the sound was an aural version of white noise.

" … for the Survivor casting call from 4 to 8 p.m. … "

I sighed and said absentmindedly, "I oughtta go to that," but didn't think much more about it. My dutiful husband, however, noted the time and locale of the blessed event and left the memo on the kitchen counter, making it unavoidable for the remainder of the night as well as the next couple of days. The more accustomed I became to the note, so it was for the idea of prancing around half naked in the jungle before all the world. I could take on those skinny little Survivor chicks. I'm a fleshed-out woman, for pity's sake. Why, one of those buff things they wear as a whole dress would barely cover one of my boobs. They'd be terrified of me.

I went online and downloaded the 19-page application. How's your swimming and are you married and what will you bring to the table? That sort of stuff. They asked me to describe my perfect day. I said it would include inhaling, exhaling, sex with my husband, a cold meatloaf sandwich and time with my kid. What public office would I like to hold and why? I said President of the United States because I could ensure a citizen's right to bear arms while mandating a $10,000 tax on every bullet. Marital aids, conversely, would be tax-free. The questions went on and on.

I got to the casting site (A car dealership in Brunswick) an hour and a half early. The unruly crowd I expected was not there. I navigated easily through the parking lot and headed to the giant inflatable blue devil and white tent near the front. There were about twenty people inside and a few lounging on the hot asphalt around it. Save the one guy in the red, white and blue Uncle Sam suit, the crowd was completely ordinary--as if someone took a random sampling of people exiting Home Depot on a Saturday afternoon and dropped them here.

"Survivors ready?" I boomed and they all looked at me with varying degrees of confusion, amusement, respect and disdain. I started snapping pictures. And so the competition began.

"You're number 24," said a perky twentysomething as she handed me a slip indicating as much. "It's just an unofficial numbering thing I'm doing." She added that she was also an applicant and had been there since 7:30 a.m. We started chatting and I asked her about one of the questions on the application. "What were your three nonessential items?"

"Duct tape, my stuffed gorilla, and a journal," she said.

Mine were pen, paper and insect repellant; although now I wish I'd listed waterproof poncho and machete for my first two items. "The duct tape was smart," I said.

"I use it to make stuff," she said and showed me her duct tape wallet.

"Nice," I said.

People smoked, talked on their cell phones and drank cold sodas from their coolers. One group ordered a pizza from the Pizza Hut across the street. It was 87 degrees beneath a relentless sun.

The crowd had grown to about 60 when the CBS people arrived. I was stunned when everyone lined up politely according to their unofficial number slips. We signed in and got our marching orders: we would each have two minutes in front of a camera, completely unscripted. "Tell a story," advised one CBS staffer. "Let your personality show through."

One man in a bucket hat and sunglasses introduced himself as Indiana Jones. A mother/daughter team did a loud clapping cheer routine. Many gave just the facts: name, locale, family details, etc.

I told the milk floatie story: Years ago, I visited an older family friend and he served me a glass of beer. As I drank it, a dried circle of milk on the bottom of the glass became apparent. I didn't want to embarrass my host, so I said nothing of the floatie, which became more and more detached each time I tipped the glass. Eventually, it disconnected all together and came rushing at me, a gelatinous white booger. I swallowed it wordlessly.

But will my milk floatie story steer my fate towards brushing up against the likes of Richard Hatch's pecker, falling into a fire and finding Jesus, or ending up on YouTube climbing a tree in my underwear?

The call back date was designated as "sometime in August." Hence, unless my phone ring-a-ding-dingies in the next couple of days, I'll have been effectively voted off the island before I even got there.

So be it. In the end, The Rainy Day Woman and I will find a way to survive one way or another. As always, thanks for reading.

Thank you so, so much for reading.

Mouseketeer roll call, count off now!

I am perhaps the only writer in America that went to the Happiest Place on Earth only to find a giant gaping vagina in the middle of it all. That's why you can call me the reluctant Mousketeer.

If you have something to say about it, please email my editor. His name is Frank Lewis. Be sure to include your full name and city.

The Thinker

A God Among Men is my first essay in the new Cleveland Scene.

Now go on and read it because it is way cool and unlike anything else you'll read today or tomorrow or the day after that. And here's a photo essay as well, which is also unlike any other I've seen on The Thinker and it still doesn't do it near enough justice.

For those of you who do everything online, a note about the placement of my column in the print edition. It is part of the Freestyle section, which used to be right up front on page nine or ten of the Free Times. It now appears in the rear pages of the Cleveland Scene, along with Dan Savage (ironic, no?), the comics, and ads for Amber's Cabaret, Lido Lounge Gentleman's Club and promises that you can try Live Links Chatline for FREE!

Before you roll your eyes, The Thinker and I know that Savage and his fans, the babes in the ads, and the hand-drawn figures talking into balloons are our people just like the blokes in the front of the paper. And even though I'm a silly little broad and he's a hundred-year-old bronze guy with no feet; we both know how to sail on the Internet, which will take us everywhere we want to go.

Life. Is. Good.

If you have anything to say about any this, please email my editor Frank Lewis and include your full name and city.

A Rainy Day

It has been one hell of a ride, but this deconstruction of an American Classic will be my last Rainy Day Woman column for the Cleveland Free Times, which is merging with the Cleveland Scene magazine.

If you have something to say about it, please email Editor Frank Lewis and include your full name and city.

Thanks to all who have asked about my future in the Cleveland Indie press. All I know right now is that the new paper will be called Scene that will debut on July 23, and that Frank will be manning the helm, which is good news all around.

Taking Clevelandism head on

In my column this week, I wage a battle against New York in the fight against Clevelandism.

This column is dedicated to my friend Hal Perry. Not only is Hal a native Clevelander, during my research for this article, I stumbled upon a substantial marital aid that reminded me of Hal.

Go Hal!

If you have something to say about it, email the Free Times Editor Frank Lewis. Please include your full name and city.

Rainy Day Moll **UPDATED**

As promised in my column this week, I take on some Cleveland Goodfellas.

Send comments or letters to the Free Times Editor Frank Lewis. Please include your full name and city.





**UPDATE**

A couple of days ago, I posted about the site of the Casablanca Restaurant, which is one of the places featured in the "Goodfellas" article. I also talk about the Marius Restaurant, which was housed in the Lake Shore Hotel. It's now called Lake Shore Towers and although it's no longer quite the grand lady it once was, it's still one of the most incredible examples of Art Deco architecture you'll find anywhere. For more images and info about the building hop on over to FREEBLOG!

I couldn't get a good photo of the wonderful gargoyles on the top of the Lake Shore, but this is some of the stonework on the front of the building: