tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-130586932024-03-07T01:53:11.049-06:00Quaint QuiescenceI like words that start with QLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.comBlogger1247125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-28712924246792251772011-11-01T16:42:00.002-05:002011-11-01T17:22:08.939-05:00Opera, InterruptedFor many of us, our entire knowledge and experience of opera comes from <a href="http://youtu.be/55G7T8VdWEs">this</a>.<br /><br />If Bugs Bunny is all you know of opera, you are better educated than you might realize. Even Rossini would approve. But in the interest of further educating myself, I went to see the actual production of The Barber of Seville at the Houston Grand Opera this weekend. I was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">sooo</span> excited. The folks at the opera graciously offered me some media tickets and invited me to be their guest at a small reception during intermission.<br /><br />The evening was going to be perfect. I made plans for my boyfriend, Jerry, to pick me up in time to get dinner before the show. We had a lovely dinner, but it took a tad longer than I thought and we were a bit rushed at the end. No fear, though! The show didn't start until 8pm and we were just minutes away from downtown.<br /><br />We got to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Wortham</span> Center and parked in the garage. We had just moments to spare. Jerry kept remarking on the fact that there were no other cars in line for parking and no one was walking through the garage. I didn't think much of it.<br /><br />We got inside and went to Will-Call to get the tickets. It was 7:56. Again, Jerry observed that there was no one in the lobby. "Where are all the people?" he kept asking. "I don't know. I guess they're already inside," I answered.<br /><br />Well...they were. Everyone <em>was</em> already inside, because the show didn't start at 8pm. It started at 7:30pm. And there's no late seating. We missed the entire first act.<br /><br />So all I can tell you about the Barber of Seville is that the <em>second</em> act is very funny and we enjoyed it very much. But I didn't see Bugs Bunny anywhere. Maybe he was only in the first act.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-10150200778141640072011-09-21T17:14:00.004-05:002011-09-21T17:37:02.941-05:00Things that are true (for me) about having a boyfriend<ol><br /><li>I buy more beef than I did before.</li><br /><li>I watch more dumb movies than I did before.</li><br /><li>I listen to more weird music than I did before.</li><br /><li>I have to clean my house more than I did before.</li><br /><li>I drive less than I did before.</li><br /><li>I use more cell phone minutes than I did before.</li><br /><li>I freshen my make-up more than I did before.</li><br /><li>I stay up later than I did before.</li><br /><li>I have to explain myself more than I did before.</li><br /><li>I am happier than I ever was before. </li></ol>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-71312176730992851282011-09-14T14:07:00.003-05:002011-09-14T14:34:16.719-05:00The Fear FactorFear can be a strong motivator for many of us. Unfortunately, it often motivates us to behave irrationally, make unsound decisions or remain paralyzed in places that simply aren't good for us.<br /><br />Fear, in other words, can make us pretty stupid.<br /><br />I know this because I recently went through a break-up based almost entirely on fear. Both myself and the guy I was dating made our decisions based on the unknowns, rather than the facts. We got so caught up in the fear of "what <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">nexts</span>" and "what ifs" that we sabotaged the realities of "right now."<br /><br />But fear isn't always a profound philosophical quandary. Sometimes fear is a cockroach under your coffee table. You get home in the evening, see something down there under the table, run to get the Raid...and you let your fear empower you to spray that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">MoFo</span> to oblivion.<br /><br />It's not until after you have released half the can of Raid that you realize you just annihilated...a piece of fabric. Yes, friends, I Raided a scrap of fibers. I screamed while doing so. Note to self: Turn on all the lights before jumping to conclusions about cockroach invasions.<br /><br />And maybe turn the emotional light on and take your finger off the fear trigger before you Raid <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">someone's</span> intentions and feelings about you. Maybe the scraps of fabric in your life just need to be picked up off the carpet, rather than poisoned and paralyzed.<br /><br />Make an effort to let reality be your guide, whether you're facing a relationship or a roach.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-4981685879779868042011-08-30T16:23:00.000-05:002011-08-30T16:24:45.404-05:00Dancing and Cool Clothes Are the Theme of the Day<iframe width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7JxfgId3XTs" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-7074765216028877112011-08-30T13:56:00.001-05:002011-08-30T13:56:56.579-05:00Proof that being a model doesn't mean you can dance (P.S. The Clothes! I Die!)<iframe height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/cwwcnUBY9Zg" frameborder="0" width="640"></iframe>
<br />Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-20895877718605690332011-08-16T16:37:00.003-05:002011-08-16T16:51:17.758-05:00An update and a horror storyI have assembled all the chairs. I have also purchased paint samples to test on the chairs. I went the three-color route, with a combination of teal, magenta and mustard yellow. I'll post pictures once I have something to show.
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<br />In other news, the other day someone noticed a large cockroach casually walking through our reception area. This is upsetting for many reasons: One) Because the cockroach was not invited; Two) Because our reception desk is on the third floor inside a closed building and HOW DID THE COCKROACH MAKE IT THAT FAR WITHOUT BEING DISCOVERED; and Three) Because cockroaches are vile, repulsive and in every way disgusting.
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<br />But that's not the horror story. The true horror was how our receptionist chose to handle this serious security breach.
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<br />Step 1: She found a styrofoam cup and a piece of paper
<br />Step 2: She placed the cup over the cockroach and trapped it
<br />Step 3: She slid the paper under the cup and picked up the trapped roach
<br />Step 4: She <em>released the cockroach outside</em>, back into the wild, where it could be free to terrorize other unsuspecting victims
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<br />What kind of sicko uses Catch and Release on a cockroach?!? Clearly she and I are philosophically and ideologically opposed in every way that is most important and core to human interaction.
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<br />Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-85910878712339235322011-08-11T12:54:00.003-05:002011-08-11T13:12:32.383-05:00Sniffing Paint ChipsEarlier this year, I bought a dining table that is dark and distressed with flecks and streaks of deep green paint on it here and there. It's made from reclaimed teak from an old barn or boat, so there's little chance of finding the perfect chairs to match.
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<br /><div>So instead I opted to buy natural wood chairs and paint them myself. My plan is to paint them in various bold, bright colors to draw out the color scheme in my house. I'm not afraid of using color and really want the overall effect to POP. The picture below is the general concept, although the colors I'm considering are deeper and richer.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiup58AXSPLqiUIk2nuT1XYV4SIgl5PzkKJ0EUxDwhr4Bz5ld1_WjfNI6QT1421-XNiy6kdxQO94gueg45B149qrjdgIbqJIvcaeFVc2NueNC8oKcs2Kaf9gVsvmVmiNFwHMPn0GQ/s1600/keyweststyle-2-l.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639660363056102866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiup58AXSPLqiUIk2nuT1XYV4SIgl5PzkKJ0EUxDwhr4Bz5ld1_WjfNI6QT1421-XNiy6kdxQO94gueg45B149qrjdgIbqJIvcaeFVc2NueNC8oKcs2Kaf9gVsvmVmiNFwHMPn0GQ/s400/keyweststyle-2-l.jpg" /></a>
<br />But here's what I can't decide. I have six chairs and I want to paint them different colors. Would it look better to paint them six completely different colors? Or would it make more sense to paint them two and two and two? Or, as in the picture above, four and two? Help!</div>
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<br />Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-17946237348638311582011-08-02T15:03:00.002-05:002011-08-02T15:41:33.191-05:00Picking Your BrainA friend and I were having a conversation today about books and authors and she made the comment that she'd really like to spend a day inside the brain of a particular author in order to discover how someone comes up with a story like the one we just read.<br /><br />That got me thinking...within whose brain would I choose to spend a day?<br /><br />My first thought was a guy's brain. I haven't quite figured out which guy. Not anyone I've dated, because I don't want to know what they're thinking (or not thinking at all) about me. Not anyone famous, because obviously their thoughts aren't representative of the male population. Just an average guy. This is how I imagine a day inside a guy's brain would go:<br /><br />*Wakes up<br />I have to pee like a horse!<br /><br />*Pees<br />I wonder how horses actually pee? Do they hike a leg up? I should try that.<br /><br />*Showers<br />Mmmm...shampoo...hahaha POO...<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">hahaha</span> I wonder why the word poo is in shampoo...<br /><br />*Examines self in mirror, does a little naked dance with various parts flopping about<br />You're a god, an Adonis...look at you...you could be Harrison Ford's twin. The young Harrison Ford...Han Solo era...not Air Force One Harrison Ford. You're not there yet, my boy. But some day...some day...<br /><br />*Eats breakfast<br />I love food.<br /><br />*Goes to work<br />I hate work.<br /><br />*Eats lunch<br />I love food<br /><br />*Goes back to work<br />Why don't we have naps at work? There should be naps. And baked goods. Why don't any of the girls around here make baked goods?<br /><br />*Looks at female coworker<br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ohhh</span> boobies...<br /><br />*Works some more<br />Boobies...boobies...I love boobies<br /><br />*Goes home<br />What this apartment complex needs is a Wing Stop!<br /><br /><br />Is my day inside a guy's brain overly simplified? Perhaps. Is it roughly accurate? I think, yes. And just to be clear, I mean no offense to the thinking processes of men...I know you all are capable of thoughts at levels higher than an eight-year-old boy. But because this is mostly all I hear guys talk about, it's what I assume <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">yall</span> think about all the time. Which is why I'd really like to spend a day inside a guy's brain...to find out how close my perceptions are to reality.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-60588634674134303892011-07-28T17:16:00.002-05:002011-07-28T17:23:39.876-05:00On the road againI feel a road trip coming on. I haven't told my boss yet...and since he reads this blog I guess now would be as good a time as any to request some vacation time. Jack? A week and a half? Maybe in September? Let's talk.<br /><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Anyhoo</span>, the problem with taking a road trip when you live in Texas is that it takes so <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">frickin</span> long to get anywhere that isn't still in Texas! I mean there's always Louisiana, but that's pretty much your only option when you live in Houston and want to get out of the state for awhile. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Sooo</span>...that being the case, where would you go on a road trip out of Houston? Austin, Dallas, San Antonio and all points in between don't count. Been there, done that. And let's go ahead and keep border cities off the list. I'm not interested in being kidnapped, killed or joining a cartel.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-12875021020283872202011-07-27T12:45:00.003-05:002011-07-27T13:02:04.288-05:00Car-maIt's Wednesday. Normally I go to Starbucks on Wednesdays because I also go to city council on Wednesdays and sometimes the only thing that gets me through is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">grande</span> non-fat no-whip mocha and a cranberry-orange scone.<br /><br />So I couple weeks ago I was on my normal Wednesday morning route to the drive-through Starbucks in my neighborhood. I placed my order, pulled up to the window, paid for my drink and drove away. It wasn't until I was several blocks away that I took my first sip...only to discover they had given me the wrong drink. I assume I got someone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">else's</span> vanilla latte and someone else got my mocha. I was so disappointed. I only go to Starbucks once a week! It's a special treat! What a let down. It was too late to turn around and go back. Oh well.<br /><br />So the following Wednesday, I was back at Starbucks, going through the drive-through line. I remembered how they messed up my order last time and thought about mentioning it to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">barista</span>. I figured they might give me a free drink this time to make up for the mistake before. But then I decided not to say anything. It's not really a big deal. It's just a cup of coffee, after all.<br /><br />When I arrived at the window, the cashier handed me my coffee and I handed her my credit card.<br />"Oh, your drink is free," she said.<br />"Excuse me?" I asked.<br />"Yea, the guy in the car in front of you paid for your drink. He said to tell you it was a random act of kindness and that he hopes you have a great day."<br /><br />I drove away with a huge smile on my face and a hot, delicious mocha in my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">cupholder</span>. :)Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-11568248884552582182011-07-26T18:38:00.004-05:002011-07-26T19:04:14.466-05:00A (Blogging) FailureI've realized any time I have something particularly good or particularly bad happen in my life, my blogging drops off dramatically. Looking back over the past two years of blogging (or lack thereof), that's a lot of ups and downs. Which pretty accurately reflects how I feel about the last two years of my life. The past two years have included crossing the threshold into my 30s, two relationships, two breakups, a trip to Europe, the death of my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">pawpaw</span>, some pretty intense emotional therapy, moving out on my own after living with roommates for my entire adult life and changing churches. And that's just the big stuff. Countless other small changes and challenges are peppered between those events.<br /><br />I tend to be pretty hard on myself. I have a twisted mentality that if I mess up on something, the entire thing is a complete failure. So I either have to be perfect at something, or I don't allow myself to do it at all. I know I'm not great at sports, so I don't participate in them at all. Ridiculous, I know. But being mediocre, or even downright bad, at sports is far worse in my messed up mind than not playing sports at all. Avoidance. If you don't try, you can't fail.<br /><br />I even find myself applying this dubious logic to blogging. If I miss one or two days of blogging, I've failed and should just quit altogether. Never mind the fact that there is no "rule" that I must blog five days a week. There are no blog police monitoring my posting frequency. I'm not going to get shut down for subversive non-blogging. But in the sickness of my mind, it matters.<br /><br />When I look back over that list of things I've been through in the past two years, I realize how much joy and loss I've experienced in such a short amount of time. I realize how big life really is, even when it seems so small. I realize how I've spent 32 years of my life living by rules that no one else has imposed on me. I realize that my biggest failure is letting the <em>fear</em> of failure dictate my actions. It's time to walk away from that fear. Today. I'm certain it will creep back in. I'm positive I'll succumb to it again at some point in the future. But that doesn't make me a failure.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-69132823218067384162011-06-24T13:46:00.001-05:002011-06-24T13:46:48.380-05:00File Under: It's Funny Because It's True<object style="WIDTH: 640px; HEIGHT: 390px"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rItsdTyZttY?version=3"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rItsdTyZttY?version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="640" height="390"></embed></object>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-73047041246560333562011-06-21T13:31:00.001-05:002011-06-21T16:41:03.437-05:00A Theatrical WarningDon't see the Green Lantern. Just...don't.<br /><br />Edit: Because it was awful. Seriously. So terrible.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-17968928008381196622011-06-20T13:57:00.002-05:002011-06-20T14:01:46.544-05:00Getting the bridal lookOkay, confession time. Sometimes I watch online make-up tutorials. If you've never seen an online tutorial, watch about 90 seconds of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLGJTAfyG44&feature=related">this link</a> and you'll get the idea of how they work. Okay, so now you know what to expect from a standard make-up tutorial.<br /><br />Now watch <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5VBYrNU6wc&feature=youtu.be">this one</a> for something a bit different. She's definitely my new favorite make-up guru.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-16181224558726975582011-06-02T14:11:00.001-05:002011-06-02T14:11:43.667-05:00I'm in love with this boy<object style="WIDTH: 640px; HEIGHT: 390px"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RD5OJeLeunc?version=3"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RD5OJeLeunc?version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="640" height="390"></embed></object>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-11513000723605225832011-05-25T12:02:00.002-05:002011-05-25T12:13:42.445-05:00You can't judge a book by its Facebook profileDating is tricky. Sometimes people seem like the perfect candidate on paper, but in reality they are far from what you're looking for. I recently was reminded of this when someone asked me out for coffee. The little I knew about him from his <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Facebook</span> page indicated he was an interesting and intelligent person with many common interests. I agreed to a coffee date and in the meantime we exchanged a few emails and instant message conversations.<br /><br />As the coffee date approached, he <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">IM'd</span> me to make more definite plans. In the course of that conversation, the whole thing fell apart. I faithfully recreate the conversation below for your pleasure/horror.<br /><br />Coffee Guy: There's some sort of chemical smell in my apartment. I'll be right back. Gonna go check this out.<br />Me: <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ok</span><br /><br />....<br /><br />Coffee Guy: I'm back. The idiot <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">mexicans</span> working upstairs on the flooring had put chemicals down and left the AC on in the entire building. I switched it off.<br /><br />Me: <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">ummm</span>...do you often use phrases like "idiot <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">mexicans</span>"?<br /><br />Coffee Guy: well I can't call them <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">chinese</span><br /><br />Me: what if they're <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">guatemalan</span>? or <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">el</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">salvadorean</span>? what does their nationality have to do with it?<br /><br />Coffee Guy: they're all <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">beaners</span> to me<br /><br />Me: please tell me you're joking<br /><br />Coffee Guy: nope<br /><br />Me: ah. well in that case, I'm going to have to cancel our plans for coffee. have a nice day<br /><br />And people wonder why I'm still single...Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-78862866418748836032011-05-23T15:04:00.002-05:002011-05-23T15:14:29.689-05:00How I joined the Art Car Parade, and other talesYesterday, Houston held its infamous art car parade with a huge turnout of people. A friend and I had plans to meet up with some other folks at a nearby restaurant and then walk to the parade. We were driving around the area, looking for a place to park near the restaurant. Unfortunately, we were running late and every spot for blocks was already taken.<br /><br />My friend suggested I turn down a street in a little neighborhood and see if there was a spot along the curb. Everything was full and we kept driving, only to drive around a corner and end up dead ending straight into the parade! There was literally nowhere to go except forward! Tnhe street wasn't blocked off at all, so I nosed out into the street, where art cars were lined up in waiting and throngs of people were roaming the street. We were literally caught up in the crowd.<br /><br />We couldn't go more than about 5mph because so many people were walking around and in front of my car. My friend was gripping the door handle and anxiously motioning people to move out of the way as we nudged forward.<br /><br />We were stuck in the parade for about a block and then finally came to a cross street where we were able to turn off and ask the police officers to let us pass back through the barricade.<br /><br />The officers looked at me and laughed and said "all right...come on through."<br /><br />All I could think of the whole time was that I hoped I wouldn't run anyone over...and I wished my car was decorated. :)Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-45649082540012877372011-05-06T14:27:00.002-05:002011-05-06T14:41:35.787-05:00Getting to know the neighborsLast night I walked into my backyard to water my garden when I was startled by the sound of someone greeting me. I looked up and saw my neighbor, on his balcony, looking down at me and smiling. And I swear at first glance I thought he was naked.<br /><br />I quickly looked away and mumbled a greeting in response while I snuck a second glance (come on, people...just to verify that my eyes were tricking me...not out of any prurient interest). Fortunately, he was NOT naked. He was shirtless and was wearing some light khaki shorts that were close in color to his skin which is what gave me the impression of nudity. But it was too late for normal conversation at that point. I had already given off the "weirded out" vibe and he quickly retreated back into his house.<br /><br />I then laughed to myself because I recalled that just two nights before, I was out watering the backyard quite late in the evening (after dark)...wearing my yoga pants and a t-shirt and, I shamefully confess, NOT wearing any supportive undergarments of the female variety. And the same neighbor walked by on his way out of the house and stopped to chat for a moment. I gave him a pained smile as I crossed my arms over my chest. Again, he got the "weirded out" vibe from me because I was all kinds of self-conscious.<br /><br />So at this point he probably thinks I'm either really awkward or really weird or maybe both.<br /><br />Clearly, there's a life lesson in this story somewhere.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-57533375963635466172011-05-05T15:54:00.003-05:002011-05-05T16:16:36.051-05:00My So-Called (Thought) LifeDo you ever stop and think about how many thoughts you have that are all about you? My thoughts are filled with myself. On any given day at any given moment I am probably thinking about myself. Thinking about how this affects me or how that looks on me or what you think of me or whether you ever do think of me or what I'm going to eat for ___(breakfast, lunch, dinner, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">elevensies</span>, afternoon snack etc.. ad <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">nauseum</span>) or what I'm not going to eat because I shouldn't but I really want to or how my coworkers annoy me or how my family annoys me or how church people annoy me or how housework annoys me or how the neighbors dog yapping in the middle of the night annoys me or why my skin is more dry than it used to be or why I don't have much energy lately or whether I'll ever get married or whether I'll ever go on a date again or whether I'll ever hear the words "I love you" or when I'll have time to get my car washed or when I can take a vacation or how I never thought my life would end up like this but it's not ALL bad.<br /><br />I'm sick of myself.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-56827281220016781102011-05-03T14:08:00.002-05:002011-05-03T14:23:08.983-05:00Viva la Revolucion!This past Sunday, as I was exiting the church parking lot, I drove past a friend of mine who rolled down her window and asked where I was going and if I wanted to get dinner with her.<br /><br />So we made spontaneous plans and headed over to a coffee chop/cafe in the heart of town for a light supper on the patio.<br /><br />As we sat there chatting and waiting for our food, I began to look around and noticed that the other folks on the patio looked...well...different than we looked. Or perhaps I should say that my friend and I looked different from everyone else. I pointed this out to my friend, under my breath, saying "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">umm</span> have you noticed that we don't quite...belong?"<br /><br />We were surrounded by people who looked at first glance like hippies. But on closer inspection they were more like a subset of hippies...a sect, if you will. Several of them were wearing t-shirts with the word "Revolution" printed on the front. Then they started setting up a table with pamphlets and books on it, followed by a microphone and sound system.<br /><br />Next thing we knew, they were singing. It turns out they were Communists. They were out celebrating May Day, which is the traditional day to celebrate the contributions of the working man (we were informed). They tried to get us to join in as they sang their version of an anthem (complete with arms raised in solidarity). They sang all the verses of the song, first in English, then in Spanish and then in Farsi.<br /><br />They talked about the people's revolution and played some Spanish and Iranian music videos. Mostly they just talked amongst themselves.<br /><br />My takeaway was this: If being a Communist means never fixing my hair and having to look like an earth-mother, I'll pass.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-4507975386421417872011-04-29T14:51:00.000-05:002011-04-29T14:53:01.937-05:00Speaking of royal weddings...I. Can't. Stop. Watching.<br /><br /><br /><iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QIeoJaI2qy0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-73504049489066453592011-04-28T14:32:00.002-05:002011-04-28T14:34:52.026-05:00Love in the time of HaikuVerdant green cool sin<br />O Creamy Jalapeno<br />I sink in your depthsLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-23124626748385775172011-04-26T18:14:00.002-05:002011-04-26T18:36:28.915-05:00Awkward is as awkward doesWhat makes awkward moments so awkward? I don't mean embarrassing moments in which you say or do something out of place and feel shame or humiliation over the situation. I mean awkward moments where the social environment is violated in some way. My personal opinion is that my normalcy (relatively speaking) is what makes awkward moments so awkward. I mean, think about it. Do awkward people behave as though they realize they are awkward? No, no they do not. They conduct themselves in a manner that suggests they are blissfully unaware of the havoc they are wreaking on the social fabric around them. They are so accustomed to awkwardness that it doesn't seem awkward to them.<br /><br />(By the bye, I've typed 'awkward' so much that the word now looks awkward.)<br /><br />Now lest you become confused, I want to clarify that I am not referring to shy people or those who are merely insecure in certain social situations. They are able to develop skills and strategies to avoid the awkwardness. But we all know someone (at least one!) who is hopelessly awkward. And I believe that awkward person has no idea of his or her own awkwardness. Which means really it's the rest of us who feel awkward around that person....which makes us the awkward ones.<br /><br />The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind...the answer is blowing in the wind.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-39610701830225751042011-04-25T15:10:00.002-05:002011-04-25T15:15:33.017-05:00Easter vs HalloweenIn a fight between the most sacred and the least sacred holidays on the Western calendar...which would win? Of course, I'm not talking about which holiday is better or more fun or has more purpose. Naturally, if you had to pick between Easter candy and Halloween candy, which would you pick??<br /><br />My pick would be Easter candy. In my opinion, most of the stuff that you get at Halloween is available year-round. But Easter candy (chocolate bunnies, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cadbury</span> eggs, chocolate-coated marshmallow eggs etc...) is only available at Easter.<br /><br />So in the epic battle between good and evil, I'd say Easter candy wins.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13058693.post-19838761839826003682011-04-21T18:26:00.002-05:002011-04-21T18:39:16.684-05:00Father's Day Gift IdeaMaybe you're one of those people who likes to get your gift shopping done early. Or maybe you're the kind of person who has trouble coming up with creative gift ideas. Either way, this salon has a suggestion/solution for you. What better gift for dear old Dad than a little <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">manscaping</span>?<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTXCgy0ja0p17npY-Z26LS32Rf_uszcTdNzukVxtRLqWAKpaL3-lzUD3AtnaCfA-ynw-DJSnsvnHtCnNVodrjRddSK-jAzOeG5YX6uzjSui2-KdATVIjgSULzVbpWpJApA-xIsrw/s1600/fathers+day.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598182458052762882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTXCgy0ja0p17npY-Z26LS32Rf_uszcTdNzukVxtRLqWAKpaL3-lzUD3AtnaCfA-ynw-DJSnsvnHtCnNVodrjRddSK-jAzOeG5YX6uzjSui2-KdATVIjgSULzVbpWpJApA-xIsrw/s320/fathers+day.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>I took this picture myself, so please excuse the glare and reflection in the window of the car passing by behind me.</div><br /><div>Now I have nothing against a bit of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">manscaping</span> here and there. Back hair should probably be removed if it's excessive. Neck hair should be trimmed and maintained. That's all well and good. The part that really concerns me about this particular ad is the area where the "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">manscaping</span>" is taking place on "dad." It makes me picture the gift exchange around the family dining table.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Um, here Dad. I got you a present. So you can shave your...well...it's for personal grooming...you know like to keep things <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">ummm</span> tidy....and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">ummmm</span> well...I hope you like it...so <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">ummm</span>...Happy Father's Day!</div>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02918586949571152335noreply@blogger.com0