peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

I am becoming a global traveler—making connections with the locals—all through Twitter. Oh and if you are visiting Alaska from any other part of the United States, passports are not required, Silly. If you do visit, check out Erin’s blog at www.AKontheGo.com/, the resource for all things family travel in Alaska, or follow her on Twitter @akonthego. She is a witty one, I tell ya.

Oh, and if you’re really traveling to Alaska (not virtually like me): the six months of snow has already begun. So pack a jumbo parka and some boots. But not the furry mukluks because those scream “tourist.” Erin says so.

So, here we go, continuing with Pesky Pippi’s highly popular interview series. I asked Erin to tell us a little bit about her favorite state.

Pippi: Is that a totem pole or are you happy to see me?

Erin: Totem poles tell an incredible history of southeast Alaska Native tribes. Sitka National Historical Park is excellent.

Pippi: Do all Alaskans wear mukluks?

Erin: Mukluks are big, clumsy, but they work in the Arctic. If you wore them here in Anchorage, people would talk. And stare. And laugh.

Pippi: (Note to self: must return mukluks. Pronto.)

Pippi: Do you own a Husky dog?

Erin: I used to own a Husky/Golden Retriever. Mushers race hybrid dogs now, hardly anyone uses Huskies. Sled dogs are scrawny running machines.

Pippi: Do you live in an igloo?

Erin: No igloos. Not even among the Eskimos. They have dug into the hills of their homeland and lived fine that way, thank you very much.

Pippi: (Disappointed.)

Pippi: Do moose walk through your neighborhood?

Erin: Moose are everywhere. They were outside last week eating my leftover Jack-O-Lanterns. They all prefer expensive shrubbery.

Pippi: Do all Alaskans work on the pipeline?

Erin: Tons of folks work for BP, ConocoPhillips, Alyeska pipeline. Dark, cold, isolated work; good pay though.

Pippi: Do you drink Alaskan Amber Ale? I do.

Erin: Alaskan Amber, Midnight Sun, Panty Peeler, Sockeye Red. Yep. Beer snobs, we are. Oh, and I make a mean crowberry cosmo.

Pippi: (Note to self: must Google “crowberry.”)

Pippi: Does everyone in Alaska go to the Iditarod?

Erin: Most Alaskans stay away from the Iditarod, at least, the start of it in Anchorage. Too crowded, too full of out-of-town volunteers. I go to the ReStart in Willow, all-business. Mushers are kick-ass ready for 1,100 miles of Alaska wilderness.

Pippi: Final question, for today at least. Can you really walk to Russia from Alaska?

Erin: Not unless you are Jesus or Sarah Palin. But sometimes the folks on Little Diomede Island can see Russia from their houses.

Pippi: Thanks so mush (I mean much) for participating, you, Snarky Alaska Girl, you.

Remember that old commercial? You don’t? Well, I do. It’s from Pantene shampoo, you Silly Goose. Here it is on YouTube to jog your memory:

Well, the other day, I was a bitch. Straight out. Of all places, at Nordstrom. At the Clinique make-up counter, where all things are supposed to be beautiful. My bad attitude was, uh, not beautiful.

Mean to a salesperson on purpose. Sorry. I just felt like it.

So, it was pretty stupid, really. I was there to return some cream. OK, it was anti-wrinkle cream. It was expensive. And they sold me the wrong kind for the wrong skin type. It’s hard for me to find the time to drive to the mall where they sell Clinique, so when I had gotten home and realized they sold me the wrong product and that I would have to go back to make a return, I was perturbed. And THEN, when I went back, they were out of the product I needed and said they could mail it to me. In about 10 days. Meanwhile, I could feel the lines on my face emerging. Like red cracking clay in Australia. You get the picture.

So I threw a little hissy fit right on the spot. Saying how this was unacceptable. That they should not be out of stock. And that it was their mistake in the first place. And that they should mail me the right anti-wrinkle cream pronto. And that they need to give me enough samples to last me until the package arrived.

Well, they listened. And I felt great for my throwing my tantrum. For a little while.

Then on my drive home, I felt guilty. Is it worth being a bitch in the first place if you’re gonna just feel guilty about it? I have enough Mother Guilt going on, thank you very much.

A friend once said to me, “You’re always soooo nice.” And I’m like, “I’m not as nice as you think.” But the reality is, yeah I am usually pretty nice. But that’s exactly the reason why we nice people need to blurt out things once in awhile and be not-so-nice once in awhile. Because things piss me off. And I don’t want to hold them in. Every time. For example: When I’m driving. When someone puts me or my family down. When my kids bicker and won’t shut up. When people create hassles for me and I have to go out of my way to fix things. When people are righteous and condescending and they think they are better than me. (Righteous people suck, by the way.) Or, maybe when people look down at me (ala the movie Pretty Woman) when I am shopping for clothes or make-up. And maybe I’m-simply-stopping-in-real-quick-after-soccer-or-football-whatever-you-want-to-call-it-and-maybe-I’m-looking-like-a-sweaty-hag-but-does-that-give-others-a-right-to-look-down-on-me-and-treat-me-like-I-am-not-worthy?

I sometimes don’t want to be nice all the time. And I am worthy (sweat and soccer/football shin guards on and all). And so are you. Except if you are condescending to others. I don’t think those people are as worthy because people who put down others just to pump themselves up? No like.

Oh, and about being beautiful, don’t bother looking for me when you type “most beautiful women” into Google. I may not be the first page when you search. But if you keep scrolling and hit “next page,” I think we all are there somewhere.