fashion advice

I have the best parents ever! It's clear from my many blogs that they are pretty freaking awesome, and you can all thank them for creating the gem that is me. Not only have they spent thousands upon thousands of dollars on making me an educated woman, but they let me pick one of the most expensive cities in the world to live in. I'm not sure we all knew what we were getting ourselves into when I just decided to jet off to San Francisco, but I really owe them big time for providing me with an amazing college experience. I figure that because they have spent all this money so I can become a fashion extraordinaire, it's only logical that I put some of my vast knowledge to use. Since I am an apparel design student, soon hopefully to become a grad student (wish me luck!), I'll consider myself an authority on the issue at hand. So please everyone, listen up and focus your complete attention on what I am about to say.

Tights are NOT pants.

Therefore, they should not be worn as such. Just because something covers your legs does not by definition make them acceptable to wear out in public with just a t-shirt. Most tights, nylons, whatever you want to call them are not opaque, and therefore I can see that you chose to wear white granny panties under them. First off it scares me that your initial instinct was to pair black tights with white underwear, but mostly it scares me that you might have seen yourself in this outfit and thought it actually looked good. For your own sake, I am going to assume that you don't own a mirror in your home, an issue I think is much more common than we think, and you just decided to risk it. Transparent bottoms are never something you should just go with and hope for the best.

Some of you might be confused, and therefore I will let this one time slide, because you probably did not know any better. If you are a "wearing tights as pants" offender, let me give you some guidance, steer you in the right direction. Tights go under dresses, shorts, sometimes slacks. We can use them to convert summer clothing into winter and fall looks, make a short dress a little more conservative, or just add a fun punch of flavor to your ensemble. But if you do wear them, you MUST wear something else that covers your butt and crotch area. Stick with something structured like a dress, not a Hanes white t shirt.

I am in no way trying to be a fashion snob, or hate on something trendy right now, I am just trying to lend a helping hand to the general public. It IS NOT socially acceptable to walk around without pants on. Plain and simple, that rule pretty much stretches across the United States with regularity. Not only are you providing a major eyesore for the people around you, but you are being completely inappropriate. No one appreciates having to see your hoo-haa, and it is really uncomfortable for the person who has to confront you, and point out that you, despite what you may have thought prior, are not actually wearing pants. And that's kind of embarrassing...for you.

Lesson's learned: let's please just try and glance in something, anything reflective before embarking upon the public, and most importantly: tights are NOT pants!

No Habla Espanol

let's just make one thing clear: i am white.

white. white. i mean not just ethnically, but there is no point in pretending that i am not pasty. the continuous haze that permanently sits over San Francisco does nothing for my tan. i have never been a dark person, but since living up north i have definitely reached levels of pale i never knew existed.

so just to reiterate, i am probably one of the whitest people you have ever met. everything about me screams WHITE GIRL! WHITE GIRL! WHITE GIRL! and if there was any doubt in your mind, the minute i open my mouth should probably erase that completely. born and raised valley girl...duh! and if you were still confused, the entire thing could be confirmed when i try and bust a move. rhythm: non existent.

i never really had any issues with people questioning my whiteness until recently. i never even thought this was an issue up for discussion. but all the sudden in the last six months i have had at least 8 people assume I was Hispanic. this i find really weird, because i have no idea what it is about me that suddenly gives off that impression. the first few times people asked i thought it was just a random fluke. then it became really interesting when people would approach me and start speaking to me in Spanish. when my eyes bugged out in confusion, it would prompt them to stop and say "Habla Espanol?" to which i would have to shake my head and reply, "No, not at all." i barely know ANY Spanish, and the few words i do know, come out with an extreme gringa accent. "HOOOOHHHHLA!" "COOOOH MOH!" "ESSSSSSS TAH!" it's absolutely pathetic, and i assume the minute i opened my mouth, these people recoiled in their mistake.

i mean honestly i am flattered. i can't believe anyone who has seen or heard me talk, thinks that i am legit enough to speak a different language. i wish i could be well rounded enough to bust out in some fluent second language, but sadly this is not the case. i'm just Lauren, white girl extraordinaire, no real second languages, no interesting culture to speak of.

i am going to take this whole bizarre occurrence as a challenge: i'm gonna learn Spanish. that way when i go back to LA: where there is no doubt it anyone's mind that i am whiter than a ghost, i can take everyone by surprise. next step, hello rosetta stone.

temporary vegetarianism

in July 2009, i decided i was going to be a vegetarian. now i am sure that you have the same question that everyone else asks me, why, lauren? why did you decide to become a vegetarian? well, that is a very good question, unfortunately i don't really have a good answer. in all honesty, i just got bored, and wanted to try something new. i was enticed by the challenge of whether or not i would be able to do it. being a fairly lazy young adult, i didn't really eat too much meat to begin with, unless i went out to eat. cooking gourmet chicken for one never really seemed worth it. so i figured it couldn't be too hard to abstain for a while, and now six months in, i feel like i can't just give up on a random whim.

don't get me wrong, i am not going to be a vegetarian forever. since i really have no moral feelings about the situation, there is nothing tying me to this lifestyle. go PETA and all, but i am definitely going to want a big juicy hamburger sometime again. my goal is to hold out for another six months, to hopefully culminate the entire thing in a year. when i decided to attempt this challenge, i knew i had to go out with a bang. i went on vacation with my friend, for the fourth of July, and i made sure to eat as much meat as possible. we are talking hot dogs, sausage, chicken, hamburgers, the whole nine yards. and now, having lived without meat for what will be a year, i am going to have to find something ridiculously delicious to break it with. good thing i have six months to figure it out...i'll be taking suggestions as well.

in the end, it's something i can cross of that list of things to do. maybe i can inspire others to partake in random antics as well...i mean we are only young once, why not spend a year of it meatless. =) all i know is that in july, my brother and i have a date with mac and cheeseburgers. that's right, that is exactly what it sounds like. mmmmm hmmmm

Lauren you're and Idiot! *swoon*

smart ass guys are my krytopnite.

there are few things i love more than a wise cracking guy who thinks he is smarter than me. that combination of sarcasm, wit, and making fun of me is a charm i cannot resist. this most likely stems from the fact that i consider sarcasm and intelligence to be one in the same. if you can't understand sarcasm, or at least have a sense of humor about it, then you're probably an idiot. it doesn't matter what your test scores or like, what kind of grades you get, or the amount of motivation you have, if you can't take a moment to stop and laugh at yourself or someone else, then you're really missing out. that's why lazy smart-asses all get gold stars in my book!

i grew up getting made fun of by my entire family, not the "spend thousands of dollars to rehash my childhood in adult therapy" kind, but being made fun of in the good kind of way. i have said and done some really airhead kind of things, so i deserved any of the ragging that followed, and i would have been disappointed if anyone had passed up such a blatant opportunity to laugh. but it definitely taught me to hold my own. it's a free for all in my family, and while a lot of times we are laughing at me, you better watch your back, because the next time that one ridiculous sentence comes out of your mouth, it's on.

so i guess instead of daddy issues, i have "jesting issues." all i know is that when some guy tries to be cocky by talking to me like i don't understand what he is saying, i practically melt. i see his challenge, and i'm ready to fight back. it's my way of knowing that he can keep up with me. but just to clarify, this is all in good fun, so if he turns out to be a real life d-bag, he's out the door.

so this one time...

about four years ago, i thought it would be a good idea to try carmen electra's strip aerobics.

hey, whyyyyy not give it a shot?! strippers are bad ass, and if my body could look half as good as carmen electra's, then it would be well worth it. it was probably at that exact thought, that this entire plan went awry.

for those of you who are not avid readers, in order to fully understand the story, i should probably clarify that i have a back problem. a herniated lower disc. and that's all you need to know.

so my roommmate and i thought strip aerobics would be a good idea. it was on sale at target, it was something we could do in our cubicle sized room, and we were college freshman girls...if college wasn't gonna cut it, we were going to have to have a back up career anyway.

one overcast boring sunday, we popped that dvd into the tv, and began our learning experience. being the extremely rhythmic white girl that i am, i was picking up these moves left and right. carmen was shimmy-ing, i was shimmy-ing. i was attempting my best come hither look, which was most likely frightening, and we were having a hilarious time. nothing makes for a more enjoyable day, than watching me attempt to be sexy. i was actually really beginning to feel the work out. my abs were starting to burn, my thighs were starting to burn, and then TWIST...and OH...that didn't feel right! like a 90 year old woman, i had to stop, and drop to the floor. ms electra had defeated me, and it became clear that stripping would never be a lucrative career of mine.

my back hurt so much that i had to succumb to making an appointment with student health. it was so excruciating that i could barely walk to classes, let alone sit in them. but the worst pain was yet to come. that day, as i hobbled over to the health center, i had no idea what was waiting for me there. the nurse brought me to my room, and insisted that i put on disposable hospital gown material shorts. yes, they look exactly as they sound. (yeah, i put carmen electra's sexy to shame in those). i sat patiently, cringing every time my back spasm-ed, when finally the door opened...

and in walked the HOTTEST doctor i have ever seen.

and there i sit, wallowing not only in shame, but in giant hospital gown shorts, practically drooling at the gift in front of me. and as if it could not get worse than that, the next words out of his mouth really kicked me while i was already down...

"How did you hurt your back?"

"Just doing some aerobics"

"Like what kind of aerobics?"

"uhhh...Carmen Electra strip aerobics...."

yeah.

strip aerobics: 1 lauren: 0

hive five!

so here is a funny diddy. when i was in vegas for the weekend, i completely broke out in hives. which has never happened to me before. i was enjoying a lovely breakfast buffet at the bellagio when the instance occurred. i decided to stop off by the bathroom, before we went on a shopping excursion, when i noticed that my entire chest was covered in giant red splotches. i went back to the table to show my friends, when they proclaimed that my face was turning red. at first i figured no big deal, i must be flushed, because i am kind of nervous. but what they really meant, was turning red, like violet in willy wonka's chocolate factory turned purple. BRIGHT RED! i caught a glimpse of myself in a reflective panel and all the sudden it became very clear why everyone was staring at me. i looked like i had just sat in the sun for three days. the weird thing was, it was only my hands, my chest and my face, and everything i ate, i had eaten before, so it was quite perplexing on how this could hAVE happenED. ah hah! this cheap necklace i have on must be the culprit. that's what i get for trying to do beauty on a budget. thanks for that slam.

anyway, only could i, who was making a very conscious effort to look good and put together every day, and who was being very successful at it, break out in hives and ruin that outfit with her oompa loompa face. and on top of that, i had to buy outrageously priced 18 dollars worth of benadryll and cortizone. and the only lesson learned is, maybe, just maybe, looking cute isn't always worth it...

despite my run in with hives, i still had the most epic weekend ever. that's how good my trip to vegas was. now back to the daily grind. sad.

it's a hair past a freckle

i can tell time. i swear.

i'm pretty sure they teach you how to read an analog clock in elementary school...in one of the lower grades, like first or second. of course, being the child genius i was, i picked up on this new phenomenon pretttty quickly. when i was in middle school i used to wear my sweet rhinestoned roxy watch everyday, and i am fairly confident that i didn't have any trouble telling time then either. it's obvious i mentally peaked then and it's just been a steady decline all these other years.

i started wearing a watch regularly again, mainly because it's nice to be aware of the time when i'm at work. i have some pretty awesome analog watches, including a rainbow swatch, that i like to wear, and for the most part i have no issues deciphering the time, unless someone asks me. it's as if "hey do you know what time it is?" is the magic combination of words that makes me forget everything. i panic. i start to get really nervous that i am going to look stupid if i can't spit the numbers out fast enough. this of course makes me look even more idiotic, because in the end i shout out something that isn't even remotely close. this is always followed by a perplexed and sympathetic look. which i am almost positive is due to what is running through the asker's mind: "oh poor stupid girl, it's politically incorrect to make fun of mentally challenged people in public...but i can't wait to tell susie when i get home!"

for fear of coming off even ditsier i have taken to wearing a digital watch more often these days. it also helps that i have a pretty effing amazing casio calculator watch. jealous? yeah you should be. maybe this is why my coworkers seem to always talk to me in a slow, meant for a five year old voice. oh it's so hard being a genius stuck in the body of a socially awkward turtle...

BRB...in 3 days

i'm going on a little vacation!! see ya'll in a few days!

Vacation All I Ever Wanted...

so i am going on a little vacation. (and by vacation, i mean going back to LA for a week or so). anyway, whilst i was putting all my stuff together i came to a rather shocking conclusion: i may be the worst packer in the world. and here is why:

1. I Like to Pack Sporadically Over a Few Days.
Pro: allows me to do other things at the same time, and also breaks up the tedious task into more enjoyable spurts. it also allows me to get excited for the "vacation" three days earlier, since i am officially in the packing time period.

Con: i never remember what i packed the days earlier. by the time i get around to the third day, i'm frantically throwing in t-shirts because i have a slight inkling that i packed an awful lot of shorts the day before. which leads to my next problem:

2. Over Packing.
Pro: i have lots of clothes to chose from, which is especially helpful because i am so indecisive. how am i supposed to know exactly what mood i am going to be in each day? so now i have options and i can pick my outfits according to how i feel.

Con: the fact that i have an entire carry-on sized rolling suitcase dedicated solely to the shoes i am bringing home for the week probably says it best.

3. Disorganization
Pro: it was easy just throwing everything into the suitcase.

Con: i'm sure everything i want to wear on the first day is at the bottom of the suitcase, therefore causing a bomb to go off in the over packed case, which most likely will not get better and only worse over the course of the vacation. sometimes its difficult to find things when you're digging through an explosive mess of clothing. obviously my excessive laziness has prohibited me from learning from this mistake.

4. Oh Yeah....I Forgot...
Pro: forgetting things allows me to... challenge my creativeness.... and make outfits work with what i have??? yeah right, this is all con...

Con: no matter what, i always forget something. and it's always like the core of every outfit idea i have. like my favorite boots, or black belt. or something really important like a toothbrush or spanx. i'll usually remember this item when i am halfway through the journey down, and then i'll literally kick myself.

With the combination of these four problems, I'll end up in LA tomorrow, sitting in my room, exclaiming: "What the EFF did I pack?!" was that sequined mini skirt really a necessity? or that button up shirt I have never worn? yeah, both must of been packed on optimistic day one. thank god i used day two to throw in some practical jeans and sweaters. then i'll throw on one of those day three frantic tshirts, only to find that i didn't in fact over pack shorts the day before....

Ode to the Self Checkout

i am a very independent person, and i very stubbornly so like to do things on my own. i hate having to depend on people to get things done, and i hate having to ask for help. despite my lack of plumbing knowledge i would love to take my garbage disposal apart myself before calling a professional in. now i know that this is a bad idea, but i still can't help feeling that urge. just like the many other times, i've moved furniture alone, instead of waiting for help, or thrown out my back lifting heavy boxes i shouldn't have. i just know that i am more efficient than the average person, so if i do it myself, it will get done, and done well. (that's what he said!) this most obviously applies to buying my groceries as well.

enter greatest invention ever: The Self Checkout.



seriously sit down for a minute and think about it: how awesome are these things? not only do they make real every childhood game of market you played, but they also provide a way for you to control the efficiency of ringing up and bagging your items. and if that is not enough, they provide a lovely shopping experience with the least amount of social interaction possible. the cherry on top for a crazy socially awkward person like me! i admit, occasionally these checkouts can be flawed, but not having to make uncomfortable conversation with the 12 year old ringing me up is absolutely worth it. i love stores with self checkouts, and sometimes i even go out of my way to go to stores that have them. i just know i'm guaranteed a good time when there is the possibility of a self checkout involved!

to buy, or not to buy?

we sell sweatpants at my work. the cute kind. if there is such a thing as cute sweatpants, which i think there are. anyway, as i ring up the tons of customers who come in and purchase these sweatpants, i always think to myself..."i should get some sweatpants, they're warm, they're comfy, they're nice to lounge around in...." and these are not just sweatpants, their cute-ish sweatpants. not like the ones i own, with the elastic cinched bottoms, that are eleven sizes too big. after thinking it through, i think i might be ready to committ to adding some of these sweatpants into my wardrobe, there is just one problem...

i am a recovering excessive lounge wearing addict.

that's right. about two years ago i had a major problem. i spent a good year and a half of my college career in soffees and sweatshirts. yes. for some reason i felt this was a completely socially acceptable look, and i looked good in it. or more likely i was just too ridiculously lazy to ever get dressed. it was so bad that wearing a bra for an length of time was uncomfortable, and jeans became my worst enemy. i am almost positive i had a lunch date with a guy during that dark period, and yes, i wore black soffees (FANCY! cuz their black) and a school sweatshirt. with uggs, because i'm from socal and all...duhhh. somehow i managed to wriggle free of that black hole i had sucked myself into, and now i make an attempt to put actual clothes on everyday.

so here is the dilemma: you wouldn't give a recovering alcoholic a shot of whiskey...it could be a real risk to introduce sweatpants into my life, especially ones that have the potential for public wearage. am i strong enough to resist the lazy lounge wear ways...or will i crumble at the touch of the soft warm fleece and elastic waistband.

i just don't want to look back on my life in three years, and wonder how i became sweat pants girl. one day it's the sweatpants, the next day it's no make up. then it's hair put up in a messy bun every day. and then it's me on the couch, with twenty cats, and no friends. because no one likes a sweatpants girl.