Identity Crisis

Remember that scene in Zoolander where poor, confused little Derek looks at his reflection in a puddle on the street and asks the question that every person asks at one point in their life or another: "Who am I?" Well, this weekend my identity crisis wasn't so much a "Who am I?" situation, but a "What is my name?" situation. And, also, not a crisis. Hm, possibly not related to Zoolander at all. Eh, moving on.

I am a mumbler. It's true. Lately friends have chosen to read my blog to find out about my life as opposed to calling me because they can't understand me on the phone. Just kidding. But really, I mumble. On top of mumbling, I also can't hear. My family has used the term "EES" or "Erin Ear Syndrome" to describe my inability to understand some people. An example of EES would be someone saying to me, "Let's go out for lunch," and I would reply, "Psh, I much prefer Junior Mints to Bunch a Crunch." Maybe it's like that movie "Nell", where Nell lives in isolation with only her aunt/mom/some lady who has had a stroke and can't speak properly, so as Nell grows up and learns to talk, she speaks like a stroke victim and no one can understand her. I have EES, therefore I mumble. It's possible.

Anyway, this weekend we went to Starbucks twice and here is what I got:





One is obviously a case of me mumbling, whereas the other is just due to the kid not knowing how to spell my name. My simple name. My very basic, common name. Oh well...I think being a Starbucks employee would entail a lot of pressure...especially for someone like me with EES, not to mention all the people coming in with accents and names like Boisudlfkjsd.

The moral of this post? Don't let a barista define you.