August 5, 2011 by Harley May
(As moderated by the Julia Yeager-Archer)
With great tingling pleasure, revenge was exacted upon the creator of HOSR – Erin Hoffmeyer. The apple of our eyes and cream in our coffees, Erin was well worth the wait. She was. In fact, we all lit cigarettes after this interview and breathed deep.
Get to know our favorite paramour. Starting…now.
HeartOnSleeve: Erin, thank you for letting us have our way with you. Let’s roll this out nice and easy…tell me…If you could go camping with any literary character, who would it be?
Erin Hoffmeyer: Common sense would suggest I pick a character who has the know-with-all and experience in the wild, and could cook up a mean can of beanies and weenies, so probably Robinson Crusoe, but I lack common sense, so I am going to go with some beefcake from a Harlequin romance novel. “Oh, nooooo! It’s raining! Whatever shall we do, overly-muscular man?” “I have an idea; let’s have wilderness sex.” “Oh, my hero!”
HOSR: I sense a romance novel in your future. Erin, what is your favorite holiday?
EH: Being born on the Fourth of July, that should be my logical answer, because who doesn’t love to blow shit up and drink beer for America, but my favorite holiday is Halloween, followed closely by National Butterscotch Pudding Day (September 19).
HOSR: Great choices all around. Who doesn’t love a good scare and some great pudding? Now bringing this back to the topic at hand…how often do you write?
EH: Not as often as I should. I go in spurts. I tried writing every day for two weeks, and made it to six days. You can’t force creativity, and I felt like I was trying to milk the spent cow. So now, I try to not go any more than three days between writing sessions…or whenever Tommy Pluck throws a writing prompt at me and threatens me with violence.
HOSR: What do the boys think about your milkshake?
EH: “God Bless America.”
HOSR: Well played. Since we’re still on the topic of boys, men, what have you, would you make it with Daniel Day Lewis if you had the chance?
EH: “Last of the Mohicans” DDL: fuck yes. “Gangs of New York” DDL: no.
HOSR: Erin, what kind of clothes are you most comfortable wearing?
EH: What clothes? Ha ha, I’m hilarious. I’m a laid-back kind of gal. Jeans, some ridiculous t-shirt I made, and Converse sneakers.
HOSR: You seem like the cruelty-free type, Erin. Especially with—wait—why are you holding that rabbit like that?
EH: What, you mean dressed up like a fine British gentleman and cradling him in my arms like a baby? Is the rabbit complaining? I think not.
HOSR: I would not complain either if I was lovingly nestled in your arms. In fact, I’m nodding off right now…And speaking of super-ripped arms, if you were a super-villain what would your powers be?
EH: The power to bore to death. I’d defeat my enemies by bombarding them with hours of vacation photos.
HOSR: I can’t believe that would bore anyone. I could stare at your mug for days. Anyway, since we’re on the topic of enemies, if you could plot the perfect murder, what weapon would be used?
EH: My boobs. Smother the poor bastard to death in waves of D cup goodness.
HOSR: I knew it! Ahem. What made you love Jeff Buckley?
EH: Ah, Jeff. This line from his song “Last Goodbye” made me love him: “kiss me out of desire, not consolation.” When I first heard it, it really didn’t have any relevance to me; just thought it was a brilliant line, but then, as my personal life began to, as the kids say, go down the shitter, it started hitting closer to home with me. And obviously because he was an incredible musician, and it’s a tragedy he was taken from us so soon.
HOSR: What do you think is the most underrated word that should be utilized more often?
EH: I have list of underrated words that I would love to be a part of everyday vernacular (vernacular included), but I would love to see people start saying “cacophony.” Or “fuckbucket.” Either one.
HOSR: I vote for fuckbucket. See? I just used it in a sentence. It’s one step closer to becoming the next word added to Webster’s. Now, this may be a selfish question, since I hope to use your answer for personal gain, but what is the cure for writers block?
EH: I wish I knew. I would bottle that shit and sell it on the street corners for thousands of dollars, become an eccentric millionaire and buy a sea turtle to ride around on. But in all seriousness, whenever I get cockblocked from writing, I stop and read a book in the hopes that reading clears my mind, or I find some source of inspiration from the author. I read Dave Eggers for this reason. I am in love with what this man does with words, and I would sell my grandma to the Devil if I could write like him. Also: booze.
HOSR: Hmm…sea turtles and booze. This sounds like a bona fide plan. Maybe the makings of a great book, so hopefully your grandma may avoid the Devil. Now my lovely…You grilled me on my Rob Lowe obsession. Fair play m’dear. What is your enchantment with the rugged face and steel-jawed Ron Pearlman?
EH: I’m not so much “enchanted,” as I am perplexed by him. I’m not physically attracted to him in the least, either. I am just baffled at how a man with that giant of a noggin goes about his daily activities without constantly being forced to the ground by the sheer weight of his head. He defines every law of physics, and we should be studying him.
HOSR: He does have a cranium a Neanderthal would be jealous of. And you Erin, I ask you the token but most interesting question, do you get jealous of other writers?
EH: Yes and no. Yes, because how dare anyone express more talent than me?! Inconceivable!! And no, because every dog will have their day. I don’t know what that means exactly. I read it on the internet.
HOSR: Did you also read about just where in the world is Carmen San Diego?
EH: Compton. CARMEN SAN DIEGO IS FROM THE STREETS, SON!
HOSR: I fear our dear little Carmen may never come home. Now time to get a little kinky…Kill, Marry, Screw: Stephen King, Bruce Patman, Bruce Wayne/Batman
EH: Okay, I sheepishly admit to spending far too much time contemplating this particular question, but I think I finally nailed it. I also realize how much of nerd this makes me, and that I probably have an unhealthy obsession with Batman. Here goes:
I’d screw Stephen King. Totally.
Kill Bruce Patman for what he did to Jessica Wakefield. You do NOT fuck with a Sweet Valley girl, you dick.
Now, what Bruce Wayne/Batman are we talking about here? Michael Keaton’s Batman/Bruce Wayne, I would marry. Val Kilmer’s Batman/Bruce Wayne, I would kill. George Clooney, I would screw then kill, and Christian Bale’s Batman/Bruce Wayne is trickier–I would screw, marry, then kill his Bruce Wayne, but I would screw and marry his Batman. And I would straight up kill Adam West’s goofy Batman ass. No questions asked.
HOSR: I applaud your choices and I’m sure Mr. King would be flattered and Patman crushed, but what’re you gonna do? Oh that’s right…kill, marry and SCREW, baby! Um….sorry about that. Just ignore me and answer…if you could rename yourself – what would your moniker of choice be?
EH: Interestingly enough, I used to hate my name when I was younger, and wanted to change it to Alexandria, but I got over it. I like my name now, but if I could rename myself, I would just go by my initials, like E.E. Cummings.
HOSR: I do like that. E.E. Zulko/Hoffmeyer, whatever you prefer, just has this great ring to it. Have you ever woken up and not known where you were? Where were you?
EH: I have. Happened just the other day, actually. I was in a hotel room in Denver and woke up in the middle of the night because I didn’t know where my dog was because he usually sleeps right beside me. I remember reaching over to feel for him and him not being there…and then realizing I was in much more plush and comfortable bed than my own. Such a bizarre feeling, to lose all sense of your whereabouts and just have that panicked “oh shit…” moment.
HOSR: That can be a scary feeling. Since I’m feeling pretty scary at the moment, tell me, what’s the name and address of the asshole who recently broke your heart? I’ll make sure we don’t leave any marks where they can be easily seen.
EH: Violence is not the answer….and I don’t know the exact address of where my ex-husband lives. I can give you land marks and street names, though.
HOSR: That’ll do it. Oh yes. That’ll do. I noticed the “ex” in the “husband”. And I want to ask you, as millions of ladies cross their fingers and hold their breath (almost typed breasts), have you ever considered switching teams?
EH: Is this because I’ve said I love boobs? I do love boobs, but I could never be a lesbian. I am squeamish around my own vagina, so I can’t imagine trying to maneuver around another woman’s lady bits. Team Weiner all the way, baby. I should make a t-shirt that says that.
HOSR: I would buy it and parade around town wearing it while eating a delicious corn dog. Shit, now I’m thirsty. I fancy a nice glass of wine. Erin, what’s your favorite drink?
EH: My favorite non-alcoholic beverage is coffee with a shot of espresso, cream and two sugars, or as I like to call it “Rocket Sauce.” My favorite booze-y beverage is one of the best whiskeys known to mankind: Buffalo Trace. I also enjoy a glass of port every now and again. I like to drink it because it makes me feel like a big game hunter surrounded by the stuffed grizzly bear I shot while on expedition in the Yukon and the moose I got while in Alaska. I also pretend to be wearing a burgundy silk smoking jacket and puffing away on a pipe, and regaling my fellow hunters with tales of my adventures around the globe. I have a very active imagination.
HOSR: Damn, Port? You, my good lady, are sheer class. I couldn’t choke down a glass of that if I tried. Since we’re on the subject of stuffed grizzly bears, if you could turn one person into an animal, who would it be and what would you turn this person in to?
EH: I would turn Lynn Beighley into a sugar glider and keep her in a shoebox on my desk at work and feed her bits of chocolate and then let her sit on my shoulder and whisper secrets in her ear. Yes. This is what I would do.
HOSR: Every one of us HOSR’s not Lynn Beighley are sighing in sadness right now. We want to be in a shoebox. And have chocolate and secrets. We’re still on animals. My natural inclination to nay in response to directives and the allure of Mane and Tail shampoo lead me to believe I was a horse in another life. Do you believe in reincarnation? What and/or who were you?
EH: Hmm…that’s an interesting question. I hate to see what you’re like around a bottle of Gorilla glue. But I’m not sure if I do believe in reincarnation or not. There are times when I feel I was born in the wrong year, meaning I would have loved to have been alive during the late 60’s or 70’s, because people have told me I have a “hippie spirit.” And because I do a lot of cocaine. Wait…what?
HOSR: Don’t worry. I have a tendency to sniff Gorilla glue. Wait—what? So….getting off this subject of illicit activity(although I would really like to find myself in a jail cell with you) Erin, tell me about a time you impulsively went on a road trip. Did you set forth with a destination in mind? Do you like to fly solo or do you prefer to have someone riding shotgun?
EH: This is another question I waffled with…be funny, or take off my Erin jeans and put on my Barbara Streisand in The Prince of Tides ass-masking pantsuit and talk about something serious. The road trip that sticks out in my mind was a year ago, about two weeks after my soon-to-be ex-husband moved out. I got up one morning and decided to drive to South Dakota, so I did. It was an impulsive trip, but I had destination of sorts planned–I was going to intentionally wreck my car and try to kill myself. I started to veer off the road, but as my tires crossed the rumble bars on the shoulder, I had a change of heart. Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here right now. So there’s that trip. Well. This is awkward now, isn’t it?
HOSR: Never awkward just honest. Thank you for sharing, Erin. Do you want a sticker or a cookie? And don’t think I didn’t notice the amazing Arrested Development reference above. Kudos. Tobias Funke has been known to carry a tune in his band Dr. Funke’s 100 Percent Natural Good Time Family Band Solution and you have the gift of song – if held at water pistol-point and forced to audition for American Idol, what song would you sing and why?
EH: I would sing “What’s Up?” by the 4 Non-Blondes. I love that song, I’m not really sure why. I just hope the Idol judges don’t mind me being slightly drunk, as that’s the only way I can hit the high notes.
HOSR: I know I wouldn’t mind you slightly drunk. Okay, okay, I’ll get serious and ask you a writing/reading related question. What book resides in this exact spot on the bookshelf in your bedroom–the third shelf from the bottom, second from the left. How did you come to own this book? Who is its author? When and where did you read it?
EH: I have three bookshelves, so I will name the book in this specific spot from each: 1) “Oryx and Crake” by Margaret Atwood. My ex-sister-in-law was telling me about it about five years ago, and I just remember thinking, “dude, that sounds crazy,” and as luck would have it, it was in the clearance section of my local big chain book seller, so I bought it. I read it over the course of a weekend and was mesmerized by it. 2) “The Talisman” by Stephen King. Freshman year of high school and once a year since then. 3) And honest injun: The Pocket Kama Sutra. It was a wedding gift from one of the members of my wedding party. Very educational. Congress of the Crow, anyone?
HOSR: Suddenly , I am very scared. And Googling….
Erin, you’re known to be a music lover, or maybe a fanatic?…where would you most like to attend a concert? And by that I mean, where (if money and time were no objects) and who would you like to see play?
EH: Ooh. I have seen some brilliant shows in my day, the number one still being Nine Inch Nails at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Denver, but if time and money were no objects, I would absolutely love to see Radiohead. I don’t care where it is. I would fly anywhere in the world to see them play.
Erin Hoffmeyer proves that boobs do exist and that a butterscotch-pudding-covered-Batman is what her dreams are made of. And not those freakshow dreams like the ones Robin Williams has in that late 90s movie but splendid, fantastic, karaoke singing dreams. It’s been an enjoyment prying her brain open (we’re laying the ice pick and chisel down now) and hope you tune into more Erin Hoffmeyer here: http://polishsnausage.wordpress.com