5,4,3,2,1.....NEXT!

Let me first begin with: I did this for all of you.

Last week I went Speed Dating.

Yep, you read that correctly, as a truly dedicated blog author, I spent a good two hours last Wednesday going on eleven, five minute first dates. One right after each other, whistle blowing included. And much to my disappointment, and now to yours, it was not nearly the disastrous train wreck I was expecting it to be.

Unfortunately none of the guys were extraordinarily creepy, with the exception of three, and even two of those were pleasant-ish to talk to. The only real weirdo, was Michael, possible axe murderer, who tried to smooth talk his way into sitting with us in the car before the event had even started. Luckily we paid enough attention in kindergarten to learn "stranger danger!", and politely declined his request. As if to add to his already creeptastic reputation Michael, axe murderer or not, never ended up coming inside to the speed dating event. He must of been intimidated by my friend and I's ridiculously good looks, but not too intimidated to leave his business card on my friend's windshield. Thanks Michael, we'll give you a ring if we need any axe murdering done.


Once I got over the awkward-ness of having to jot down my suitor's name, and more importantly group number, plus any quick notes about his personality or receding hairline, the experience was actually kind of fun. I mean it made for a pretty raging Wednesday night, at least compared to my usual Wednesdays, which are typically spent laying in bed watching the four hour tivo-ed NCIS marathon from earlier in the day. I LOVE NCIS Wednesdays. I think it would be a safe bet to say this was one of the wilder things I have done on a night mid week, right behind my entire sophomore year in college, but that's another story all together.


When I got home, I was actually pretty excited about the outcome of the evening, and whether it was the endorphins from all the enthralling conversation, or the glass of wine necessary for me to participate in this sort of event, I happily picked a few guys that I liked. In fact it was hard to say no to all the other guys, because a lot of them were actually pretty cool, and I would have loved to be friends. But I figured in a speed dating situation, it would be kind of bitchy to "match" with these guys and then throw down the friend card immediately. I think I have too much compassion to become a speed dating regular, I'm too good at being "interested" in every one's lives. A repercussion of 5 years as a sorority girl.

But as it always has to happen, after I sent my matches in, reality set in and I freaked out. I decided that despite my enjoyable time, I am too young to date any of these guys. The age range for the evening was 23-33, putting me right at the bottom, and as it seemed put all the guys right at the top. Ten years my senior is just too much for me, especially when I suffer from such commitment issues like not being able to decide what day of the week to do laundry. They're probably more interested in the potential for long term, whereas I am more interested in how.... not to do that.

So if by some outrageous chance any of the guys from my speed dating experience, with the exception of axe murdering Michael, stumble upon this blog, I'm sorry to not return any of your advances. Trust me, it's for the better, you might not know it yet, but you should thank me for doing you a favor. I have to potential for being all kinds of crazy. But thanks for a fabulous Wednesday evening, I truly did thoroughly enjoy it.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

In like 36 hours I'm getting on a plane and heading South to New Orleans to embark upon Kimi and I's Southern adventure. I am in severe need of a vacation and I am really excited to go exploring. So what's the problem you ask? Just the fact that planning trips are STRESSFUL. And if you know me at all, you know I don't handle stress that well.

Towards the end of high school and my first few years in college I noticed that whenever I got stressed I would get sick. It would build and build and build as I was frantically studying for my statistics final, and then the second I finished the test, it would hit me as if I just ran into a brick wall. And I would be out for a week. Unfortunately for me the only times I would get stressed would be around midterms and finals, all right before we would have breaks from school, so that meant I spent a lot of thanksgiving, winter, and spring breaks laying in bed in my parents house being sick. I guess it was better than having to take those finals while also fighting the illness, but still, coughing your head off in bed while all you're friends are partying and celebrating sucks.

As the school work, and sorority responsibilities, got harder, the way I dealt with stress got worse and worse. Junior year had me throwing my back out every three months to the point where I couldn't move for a week. that was the absolute most frustrating way my body decided to "calm me down." There is nothing more stressful than having to miss work and school, and not being able to move anywhere without having your roommate help you put your pants on. I spent a good part of my spring semester in my fourth year of college on the floor with back issues. And my school work suffered greatly.

Since then I have been extra careful with my back, so of course my body being mine, it had to devise new ways to make me suffer. The most recent occurrence during my last semester was canker sores. Now those sucked! There is nothing like having canker sores (multiple multiple ones) all over you're mouth, hurting and preventing you from eating and talking. Too much information? Hey, they are canker sores, not herpes, and it was stress that caused them, not a lack of personal hygiene or anything.

So just my luck that past few weeks have been stressful to the max. Between work and school and planning this trip, it's no wonder that after working eleven straight days, I completely crashed on my two days off. I have been home sick with a horrible cold the past two days, and I have to get it under control before I sit on a plane for five hours Monday. The pressure of that time constraint isn't helping my calm down though. Not to mention I have been scrambling to get my suitcase packed and all my homework finished, and all the final touches on the trip in order. It has not been fun. I feel like I am no where near completing any of them. And now I seem to be breaking out in some sort of hives. Seriously? What is my problem?! I think I need to become a hippie and care about nothing and just sit around and relax all the time. Would that be a waste of my future master's degree?? If I am happy and stress free than I guess who cares. Now how do I break that new discovery to my parents.....oh, well guess this blog just did it for me. Sorry Mom and Dad, I'm gonna be a hippie, here's to hoping Ally is infinitely more successful.....someone's gotta support us.

Anyway, Bon Voyage! I promise stories and pictures when I return. Kimi and I have a competition going to see who can look like the biggest douche bag the entire trip. I might have a couple popped collars hiding in my suitcase. Hilarity and pictures to ensue. Until then.....Au Revoir!

Why Everyone Hates Me.

Almost every friendship I have ever had has begun with the other person saying, "I thought you hated me when I first met you." Let me tell you why:

First off sarcasm and a dry sense of humor do not really make for a great first impression. In fact they mix together to create a horrible one, usually resulting in everyone thinking I am a huge bitch. Which, although I can have my moments, I can assure you that most of the time I am pretty genuinely nice. Second, I am very shy, therefore making me seem uncomfortable and awkward when meeting new people. Again, to someone I have never met before, this translates to me being snobby, and uninterested. In reality I am probably extremely intrigued by you and therefore intimidated beyond belief. My mind is most likely racing to try and come up with something impressive to say, usually this is overturned by my nerves and ends in an epic fail.

These two characteristics present the basis of my problem, but what really seals the deal together is the lack of control I have over my facial expressions. That's right, this beautiful face of mine gets me into A LOT of trouble, and never the good kind. I guess nothing about the way my normal expression looks says "Hey! Be my friend!" It is really difficult for me to walk around smiling all the time and not looking creepy. It does not come natural to me at all. I just can't look like this every day:

I mean that is smile deserving of a special occasion, and I can't justify wasting it on something as mundane as walking to and from class. So I have to settle and accept that I'll never be that person that just exudes happiness, in fact on a regular day, I probably look something more like this:


Why no one wants to befriend that, I'll never know.

While those lovely faces prevent me from making friends, the worst of all are the facial expressions that ruin my friendships. Apparently my expressions are an open book, and whatever I am thinking in my head is easily read through that look on my face. So the entire time someone is blabbing about something absolutely absurd and ridiculous, as I am thinking what an idiot they are, my face is shouting that same sentiment right at them. I'm also sure the eye rolling I can never control, doesn't really help either. I suppose acting will never be a possible career choice for me. Oh well, cross that off the list.


My ingenious solution is to spend some time training to perfect this problem. I plan to sit in front of a mirror, while someone shouts possible scenarios at me, and I struggle to keep my face straight and blank. Then obviously I'll spend at least an hour a day doing smiling exercises. Other than that, I can't really think of a way to come off as friendlier. Maybe I'll try telling silent jokes to myself and laughing as much as possible. Would it be better to come off as a mentally crazy person, or an uber bitch? Tough decision...

Glu-TARD

If I had a dollar for every time someone accused me of being a hypochondriac, I wouldn't be rich, but I could definitely treat myself to a crazy night on the town. I realize I do occasionally visit webMD in an attempt to diagnose all my various health issues, but they are REAL problems, so therefore this is a totally legit practice. While those health sites have been helpful in the past, I finally decided instead of playing make believe doctor myself, I should probably break down and see a real one.

I procrastinated on the issue long enough, mostly because I really dislike going to the doctor. Not because I usually come back with some new medical issue, that's awesome, it's because doctors always make me feel really stupid. I don't know why, but I have yet to meet a fabulous MD with fantastic "bedside manner." I'm a pretty easy going girl, but when I explain my symptoms and you look at me like I am crazy, it makes me feel really uncomfortable. Even though I am almost 23, I would love to still bring my mom to all of my check ups. It's like parents speak that doctor language, I swear if I said something, and then my mom repeated it verbatim, the doctor would feverishly nod his head in agreeance, and proactively move towards solving the issue at hand. This has actually happened to me in the past, and only reaffirms my theory that every doctor I meet just thinks I'm a little unintelligent girl. Obviously, if they spent any time getting to know me, they would see that I'm actually quite bright and a pleasure when it comes to dealing with health problems.

So I finally showed up for my appointment, and was not surprised when the situation played out exactly like every other doctor's appointment I have ever had. See, even the doctor thinks I am a crazy hypochondriac. But boy did I prove them wrong this time. I explained my symptoms as the doctor gave nothing back in return except a silent quizzical expression. But to humor me, he sent me off to the lab with a whole slew of random blood tests to be done. A few days later he called me back with the results: JACKPOT! Turns out, I'm not crazy...at least when it comes to my health.

Looks like I have celiac's disease; which is a gluten intolerance, meaning bye bye bread and all those other delicious gluten containing products. This does not come as a complete surprise since both my grandmother and mom have this disease as well. So between my new food issues, and my pending back issues, it has become apparent that I am comprised of all of my parents hereditary health problems. Don't think I look like them? Well let's whip out those medical records, and there is no denying that I am my parents' child. So chew on that everyone who ever accused me of being a hypochondriac! Maybe now you will all think twice before throwing out such harsh accusations.

Obviously I am dealing with everything in good humor. It's really not a bad dietary adjustment to make, especially since it seems my mom has an entire freezer dedicated to the gluten free mecca she has created. It is pretttty impressive. I am just going to take this as a new chapter in my life and the opportunity for me to have plenty of new material for this enthralling blog. I am off to finish sewing and chow down on the gluten free pizza. Not too shabby if you ask me!

March Madness

Now before all your sports fanatics start salivating in excitement, unfortunately this post will have nothing to do with the ever so popular bracketology. While I have never really been into college basketball and those crazy brackets that come along with it, even if I wanted to, I never would have had time this month. Hence the serious lack of bloggage. My March has been ABSOLUTE madness!

School and work have consumed me. Somehow I have been working 35 hour weeks along with sewing tons of garments, reading books, and writing papers. Every once in a while I throw in some sleep, food, and the occasional catching up with people via any means of communication possible. I feel absolutely burned out, but there is no time for rest.

In April I will be making my first fashion show debut, creating a line with seven looks that all have to be impeccable as they travel down the runway. I am so nervous, and it's time to crack down. I'll be heading home for a week or so, and you better bet I am putting my family to work. I'll basically be running a slave like sweatshop out of my parents house, so if you don't want to be sucked in, I'm warning you now to stay away. But I can't promise you won't get recruited anyway. Have two hands? Looks like you'll be cutting!

I have spent the past couple of weeks finishing up my individual garment for the show, made completely out of "industrial" objects. Basically anything non fabric. I chose balloons and duct tape. My sewing machine did not much agree with this combination, leaving me frantically piecing it all together last night. It came out pretty decent, and with a few more adjustments I think it will look pretty cool going down the runway. It's times like this that make me think maybe I didn't throw the last five years away on a major I could never be successful in. You can decide for yourself.



So for the next month or so, excuse my small break in blogging. I'll keep updating as much as possible, but I can guarantee you I will be freaking out in two weeks, probably bleeding pins and needles and crying in a corner rocking back and forth. Sometimes it's rough always having to be so creative. =)

Honest to Blog!

Technology absolutely hates me. I don't even think hate has a strong enough connotation to do the situation justice. Technology loathes me.

I have no idea what I did to deserve this plague, but it must have been something really bad. Things happen to my computers, phones, iPods, and sewing machines, that professionals don't even understand. Just last week my phone decided it didn't like my voicemail password anymore, so it would keep kicking me out every time i punched the numbers in. Then, when I finally gained access, I would have to listen to automated messages telling me phone number (blah blah blah) blah blah blah- blah blah blah blah had tried to illegally access my voice mail. Uh, that's MY number ma'am, and it was ME trying to get into MY voice mail. All I wanted to do was erase that dumb video cassette icon on my screen. Is that really too much to ask?

It's definitely bizarre that technology has chosen me as their antagonist, because I have always embraced these new devices with open arms. I was raised in a very technologically advanced household. My Dad LOVES technology. We have had a computer for as long as I can remember and my Dad even had one of those archaic purse-sized "car/cell phones." (Which if you ever bring up, to this day he will still let you know that that was the best reception he ever received on a mobile phone). We were one of the first of everyone I knew to have a DVD player, I was the first of all my friends to get an iPod, plus I own a desktop AND a laptop. But I guess none of this vouches for me, because it seems I am destined to battle for my right to celebrate technology.


My worst enemy in the combat thus far has been the iPod. Some force out there just doesn't want me to enjoy music on the go, which is unfortunate, because it seems like I am always on the go. I guess now would be the appropriate time to admit that I am a PC user. Woah there!...Before you all jump down my throat, let me defend myself a little. I was raised on PC's and so far they have been good to me, so with my track record, why jinx it now? Not to mention Apple, your iPods are supposed to be "compatible" with PC's, don't say it if it's not going to be true.

Every iPod I have ever owned, has had an issue. Let's reiterate that JUST MINE have had problems. I literally think my Dad is still rocking a generation 2 that just keeps trucking along. Mine died probably six months after having it. I have had every problem there is to have with an iPod, including but not limited to, batteries dying, hard drives crashing, and a non functioning click wheel. While it can be frustrating always having to deal with these issues, the part I hate the most is making that dreadful trip to the Genius Bar.

If there is anything out there that hates me more than technology does, it's the Genius Bar. Or really it's those Geniuses at the Genius Bar. I attribute this to the fact that I am a PC user. I kid you not, the second I tell them I am running my iPod off a PC, their entire demeanor changes. Every time I finally cave and decide it's time to get my iPod looked at, I have to find an Apple user to go with me, and hold my hand for moral support. That way when they ask Apple or PC (like the don't already know...) I can mumble PC, and quickly divert the attention to my great Apple loving friend! I used to get a lot of flack for this because people were insisting I was exaggerating the whole thing. But I have proved them wrong time and time again, when we show up and sure enough when I confess, those Geniuses scoff and roll their eyes. Told ya so.

I hate going to the Genius Bar so much that I have been without an iPod now for almost 8 months. It hasn't been too bad because I get Pandora on my *crackberry*, but that doesn't help in the reception-less Muni tunnels. So I have just been riding to and from work, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. I would just like to make it clear that I have nothing against Apple or technology, other than their apparent prejudice against me. I guess all I can do now is try to be pleasant and helpful, and hope that one day I will do something to atone for my supposed technological sins.

pictures found here and here

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

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.

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.

so much for feeling skinny...

Today I broke my bed. I literally sat down and the entire front half of my bed collapsed. Okay, okay, maybe there was a little bit of pep in my "sit down", but it's not like I haven't ever done that before. I always like to add some pep into everything I do. This isn't the first time I have jumped into my cozy bed, but I'm guessing it will probably be my last. You know, because now my bed is halfway on the floor...

So if you're looking for something to smile at this evening, think of me, hopping into bed, crashing down, and then rolling right off that downward slope on to the floor. Serves me right for feeling skinny this morning. Guess I need to cut back on those carbs or maybe I need to invest in a bed that isn't put together with a baby sized allen wrench...

Good Thing I Loosened that Lid For You

i have a major problem opening things. it seriously seems like everything is "Lauren Proof," which is even worse than child proof. my issue is so bad, that it is actually a step below childproof, but only to me, most likely a child would not have my kind of problems.

when i say opening things, i mean everything: doors, spaghetti sauce jars, a bag of gummy bears from disneyland, chips, the wrapper on my sandwich...it never ends. and my friends and family LOVE to make fun of me. i'm pretty sure if it's a dull day, they'll purposely throw things my way to open. they all know i'll be a big failure, but it's some comical relief to watch me struggle. there is nothing more enthralling than watching Lauren apply all her strength only to fail, and then watch someone else effortlessly peel apart that ziploc baggie. i know what you're thinking, with entertainment like that, i lead a top notch EXCITING life.

anyway to keep with that holiday spirit, here is my most recent opening dilemma. so i went out and bought advent calendars. the cheap kind with the plastic and cardboard tasting chocolate, that you had as kids. they have a sentimental value to me, and i thought it would be great to have one this year. i'm almost positive that they are intended for young children, so you wouldn't think that a fully functional twenty two year old could have issues, but hey, it's me, and that is just my life.

so one night i come home excited to enjoy my delicious chocolate, when i open the box and to my disappointment discover that the chocolate is not laying in it's beautiful plastic mold. so i try to peel up the cardboard covering to figure out where the chocolate has taken refuge. in the midst of my problem solving i had a sheer moment of stupidity...a rarity for me of course. i was trying to tilt the box so the light would shine where i needed to see, and i tilted it way too far, and ALL the chocolates fell out of their places and slid everywhere! this wouldn't be too much of a catastrophe if it was the 22nd and there were only two chocolates left, but of course i did this on the 4th ish, and there was plenty of chocolate to move around. so now instead of a flat little box with doors, i know had a lumpy mountainous looking thing, with every chocolate out of place.

in this type of situation panic is the appropriate action. so that's what i did. i frantically tried to push any chocolate back into a door (all without opening doors that hadn't previously been opened....because that is breaking the advent calendar rules!) after about ten minutes of futzing i just gave up and let the chocolates settle where the "earthquake" had left them. for all the other days i had to open the door and then fish a chocolate out from somewhere to enjoy for that glorious December day.

immediately i concluded that this must be a common issue people deal with, and in confronting my three other friends with advent calendars, i discovered that this is NOT in fact a problem that anyone other than myself has. obviously my inablility to open things will continue to plague my future endeavors....maybe that's a real medical issue i can have diagnosed....

walking on sunshine

i walk incredibly fast.

i think this stems from the fact that i absolutely hate to be late, so i am always in a rush to make sure i am on time. the funny thing is, my irrational fear of being late, combined with my overcompensation in walking, makes me absurdly early ALL the time. so much so that i almost consider it a flaw. i am always having to find ways to kill ten of fifteen minutes, because showing up to work a half hour early is just unacceptable.

anyway i think my power walking is starting to cause me some more health issues. it's possible that my knees and hips are starting to go, which isn't really surprising, since this hot body of mine functions like an 80 year old. for those of you confused, i have all sorts of health problems, knees and hips would just be cherries on top of the delicious sundae that is my life.

the main issue i'm always in limbo about is my back. i've been to so many doctors, and tried so many things, but i guess it's something i'll just continue to live with. this one time i did physical therapy, but physical therapy at the school health center. which really amounts to a doctor, and a grad student helping me out. i am all for the learning experience, obviously someone needs to practice somewhere, but eventually i couldn't handle it anymore. they would talk about me as if i wasn't in the room. it was like a pop quiz every day, and i didn't know any of the answers, and it seems the grad student didn't either.

Doc: "so she has shooting pains down her legs, and dull pain in her back, and every once in a while she throws it out, so she must have...."

Grad Student: "ummmm sciatica...??

Doc: "okay and....?

alright people, i can't take the build up anymore. just give it to me straight! i don't have time to learn the lesson here, i need to know whats wrong with me!

the killer point was when i went in for my consultation, after they looked at my MRI they had me walk barefoot laps around the health center so they could asses my ability to walk. as if power walking laps in hospital gown shorts wasn't embarrassing enough (i mean i DO go to this school, and so do ALOT of people i know) they proceeded to have this shocked discussion. i kid you not they stood there with puzzled expressions, brushing their chins in thought...

Grad Student:"hmmmm interesting"

Doc: "yes very intriguing..."

then they would turn to me,

Doc: "do you ever have trouble walking?"

Me: "umm not really, i actually walk quite fast?"

Doc: "huh, and you never fall because your legs collapse underneath you?"

Me: "what!? no....should they?"

Doc: "oh no no reason, (turns to grad student) this is very interesting indeed!"

and after three or four sessions i still never figured out what my problem is. maybe i should really stop power walking, since apparently my body shouldn't be able to handle it. but hey, if i stopped walking so fast, i would really cut off a large source of things people can make fun of me for. and who doesn't want to watch the dumb power walking girls legs collapse as she falls on her face. seriously the things i do to entertain you all!! i'm a saint.

on a side note: happy turkey day!

an anonymous letter to a member of the general public

dear man sitting next to me on the muni, this evening,

was it absolutely necessary for you to sit with your legs spread completely open as far as possible. is it uncomfortable for you to move them just a little closer together? i know, from personal experience, that it would not have been comfy to have them clamped together, but i think you could have spared me a couple inches. also, did you have to have your elbow jammed into my side the entire ride? were you in a horrible accident where you lost all nerve feeling in your arm? is that why you didn't notice you were poking me for such a long time. maybe you mistook my cushy tummy for soft air. yeah, i hear people encounter soft pillow-y air all the time, so maybe that is understandable.

i'm also thinking that maybe your tie was so tight that you missed the fact that i was uncomfortably smashed against the wall. i have pretty broad shoulders, many a time i have been mistaken for someone athletic, but sitting with my shoulders twisted forward the entire ride, is usually not a normal position. and just another FYI, people don't usually sit with their arms stretched straight out in front of them. thanks to your territorial man complex my body aches from trying to occupy such a small space for such a long time.

and lastly, when everyone got out of the train and the two seats next to you emptied, thanks for not moving over. i was really enjoying the enchanting claustrophobia, so i really would not have been interested in having more space.

Love,
the beautiful girl sitting next to you on muni, this evening.

lis-sssss-ping lauren

i am an avid retainer wearer. in fact i have been known to inspire people all over the world to wear their retainers. it has been like seven years since i have had my braces off, but i still like clockwork wear my retainer to bed every night. (well at least my bottom one, because that's the only one i have. long story). call me crazy but i swear my teeth move if i miss a night. despite the years of practice i still have a hint of a speech impediment while wearing it. i like to call it a hint, but i am pretty sure it's fairly obvious. not only does it sound like i have something in my mouth, but i also cannot properly say my s's. instead they come out with a hiss in front of them. so basically every time i say a word with a S, i end up sounding like a five year old doing a snake sound impression.

recently my teeth have been bugging me a bit, so i'm trying to wear as much as i feel socially acceptable. i am sure it's completely all in my head, but it makes me feel better anyway. so this morning i decided to wear it to work, because i was just going to be talking to children, it won't matter, right?

WRONG!

somehow in the heat of the decisive moment i overlooked the fact that i teach sssSwim le-ssSSss-on-ssS. and surprisingly enough, i never noticed it before, the letter S is frequently prevalent in words used to teach swimming. i'll just give you a quick rundown.

Me (calling the next kid into the water) ssssS-u-sssS-an!

Me: Hi, I'm Lauren, come on in. Okay, hold your goggle-ssssS to your eyeball-sssS

Me: How are you? oh goood, How old are you?

Me: Oh, sssssS-even (of course) that would put you in ssssS-econd grade? (yep, this is my life.)

Me: alright well let-ssssS ssssS-tart with ssssS-ome free-ssssS-tyle. 2 lap-ssssS

Me: make sssS-ure you start with a sssssS-treamlime. and keep your head to your ssssS-houlder.

Me: ready sssssS-et GO!

Me: awe-sssS-ome job. let-ssssS do a few lap-ssssS of brea-sssS-t sssS-troke now.

I think you can get the picture. I will have you know that this didn't end. I proceeded to hiss my S's for an entire four hours, while all my coworkers looked at me like i was crazy. i sympathize for those with lisps, because there is really no escaping the letter S. couldn't X be the letter lispers have trouble with. it would be a lot less cruel.

well i hope you enjoyed a piece of my embarassssssing life. have a sssssS-pectacular day!

i uh like clothes

i am an apparel design major. or for those of you who don't feel like getting technical i pretty much major in fashion. but fashion design, not merchandising like Lauren Conrad of the hills. i actually draw, and make patterns, and drape and sew. not to bash my fellow apparel majors, but sometimes it seems that any jack and jane who wear clothes feel like they should be able to major in fashion. and that frustrates me. i have wanted to do this ever since i was a little kid. i took sewing lessons in middle school, i have made countless halloween costumes, i made my parents by me fashion drawing books, and i even kept a very sad little portfolio in my awesome fivestar canvas covered three ring binder. sewing and creating has been a passion of mine for a long time, and i'm happy that i am finally pursuing it as a some what grown up. other than the fact that i know i enjoy my major, i know nothing else. i have no idea what i want to do, where i want to go, and how i plan to get there.

i respect a lot of the people who share my major, and it's awesome to be around so many people who think creatively and are so talented. but sometimes us fashion majors just crack me up, and here is a little anecdote that hopefully will bring a smile to your faces as well.

so this semester i am taking a textiles lab. it's a legit one unit lab class, with counters, white coats, gloves, goggles, and crazy contraptions. but don't be fooled, this is totally a fashion class and here is why. the other day we were doing burn tests on different fibers, man made and manufactured, to see what happens when they come in contact with flame. this is very important because linen for example goes up in flames very rapidly, and therefore if you spend a lot of time near fires, linen probably is not the fabric for you. the teacher asked us to please put on protective goggles as a safety precaution. she passed them out, and i, being the person i am put them on no questions asked. i heard some grumbling from people around me, and some girls asked if they could just wear their sunglasses. i was too preoccupied with watching my swatches engulf in flames that i tuned it all out. about fifteen minutes later i look up to see almost half the class sitting their burning their swatches in their over sized dior and chanel sunglasses. and right then i had to sit back, enjoy the moment, and accept the fact that we officially are the laughing stock of all lab classes.

take it from those fashion students, you can learn while still being trendy too!

this stuff i can't make up.

so i decided it was time to dye my hair again. i'm naturally a very dark brunette, but since i have taken to working in a swimming pool that possibly contains acid, instead of water, it tends to lighten up over time. i figured this would be the best time to do it, because it's going to need a week or so to fade from the black it always turns out to be, and then it will be a perfect dark brown, just in time.

i open the box, mix the two bottles together and spread it all over my hair, in what i like to think is a well thought out process. it's not though. it never works out. i always end up with hair dye EVERYWHERE. and this time it's bad. i mean my arms are turning black, my neck is developing cheetah spots, and it seems i thought my hairline was about two inches lower than it really is. but i keep powering through. no time to stop now, i'll deal with the splotch removal when i'm in the shower. i scoop all my freshly dye covered hair together and put it in a bun on the top of my head, and sit to patiently wait my twenty five minutes.

a couple minutes before i'm due for a rinse, i head into my bathroom to check out my shower head, because the pressure has been pretty lame the past few days. i assume there is some cloggage so i unscrew the contraption, shake it all out, and put it back together. then i turn the water on, and all the sudden nothing is coming out of the shower head now. which goes to show, i am not always such a "Fiona fix-it," because no water is definitely considerably worse than low pressure water. i can feel the panic rise in my stomach, what do i do, i don't have time for this problem, i need to get the dye out.

i futz around for a few more minutes, screwing, unscrewing, and not the good kind. eventually i am able to conjure a trickle from the shower head. i decide i cannot wait any longer, so i kneel down beside the shower, hold my head upside down and let the light stream of water begin to wash the purple color from my hair. so let's recap the situation in a little more detail. i live in a three bathroom house. i need to rinse out my hair dye. and in my moment of doubt, i decide the best solution will be to just deal with it, in my own practically nonexistent shower. it probably wasn't until thirty seconds into the rinsing, that i realized this was the wrong choice. in this case the path not taken (going upstairs to a fully functioning bathroom) would have been the correct answer.

i can feel the purple water running down my face, getting into my eyes, dripping off my lips. i'm having difficulties keeping myself in this kneeling, head over the bathtub position, and not the mention the lack of all water pressure is making this process a lot longer than necessary. then i realize, hey, i can use the bathtub faucet, the water comes out a lot stronger from there. oh yeah Lauren, genius idea! to make a longer story short, i end up crouching in the bathtub in two inches of purple water (because of course my old old shower cannot drain faster than i can get water in it) trying desperately to rinse as much dye out of my hair as possible. and since a full shower was not available, it seems i am going to have to parade around tomorrow with possibly more hair dye on my body, than in my hair. but the signature "this would only happen to you moment" comes with the black stains on my face, that are from the dyed water dripping from my forehead to my chin. it appears as if i mascara'd my hair, and then it hysterically cried, causing black tear marks down my entire face.

thank you life. at least i can get a kick out of you every once and a while.

ADDICTED!

so i might have become addicted to diet dr. pepper.

i just don't know how i let this happen. one minute it was buy two cases of soda, get three free at the market, and i ended up with a twelve pack in my house, the next i was anxious to go to bed, just knowing i could have an ice cold dp in the morning. at first our relationship was very innocent; a can here and there, a treat other than water. i was completely unaware of the dependency i was building up, and then one day it just bitch slapped me.

"ooooohhh a diet dr. pepper sounds good," i thought to myself. i picked up a nice cold bottle from the market, and as soon as i heard that crisp fizz when i first opened the cap, i knew that this delcious calorie free soda had become more to me than just a drink. one sip, and i could feel actual happiness shooting through my veins. it was as if all was right in the world again.

and now here i am, three weeks later, and i know it's getting worse with time. i'm fueling this addiction, and it's going to take some strong willpower to be able to quit it cold turkey. the only thing i do know is that i'm going to need some brutal mental preparation to become that strong. guess i'll get started on that tomorrow, after i have my diet dr. pepper of course.