Work Work Work and No Play

Oh the woes of retail!! It has been a while since I've shared something about the activity that seems to consume most of my life: Work. In fact it's been a while since I have shared anything about my life, there just never seems to be enough time. When I'm not working I'm having enough trouble squeezing in the important things; like school and my two new obsessions: re-watching the entire series of Veronica Mars and playing Words With Friends on "my" iPad. Persnickety crime fighting and scrabble with strangers and friends, all while lying in bed. Life's rough. I know.

But back to my main priority. Work. Work, and more Work. I have become a slave to my job recently because I actually just got a promotion. (insert woo hooo here). I'm moving on up and there is no stopping me now, I'm not going to spend hours listening to customers "return stories" and not make it worth anything. My new position has me working a lot more with the kids and babies departments. So often times, if you're looking for me, that's usually where I am, or somewhere sprinting in between. Since I am always there, people see me and get the impression that I am some sort of childrens clothing connoisseur. The truth of the situation is, I do know a lot about my stores childrens clothing; need to know if we have a certain style? or color? or size? I'm your girl! But if you want to know how the clothes fit, or what size your kid (who is not present I might add) wears, I have no idea, and it's a pretty simple breakdown as to why that is:

I unfortunately haven't been able to wear child sized clothing since I was probably ten, and I neither have a child (thank god) or any children friends to try the clothes on for me, and then provide me with detailed descriptions on how each article of clothing made them feel. I was under the impression those sorts of friendships were frowned upon.

Therefore when you ask me, how do those pair of pants fit, I am baffled as to what you are expecting me to spit out in response. "Well they're a little snug in the waist and loser around the hips and leg area, then they taper in at the ankles so she can accessorize them with little booties. But as a side note, they do make the butt look a little big." Your daughter is six! How does it fit? If it buttons it fits. If she can squeeze that skinny jean over her soccer calves, then they fit. But even better, if you take her to the fitting room, and she puts them on, you'll have your very own personal description of how they fit....to your daughter.

One major thing I have noticed, is that a lot of parents don't know what size their child wears. Now I understand that kids grow, so the sizes can change very rapidly, but there is a quick solution to this, have your child go try on a few options and then go with the one they can securely fasten over themselves. Parents are constantly showing up, sans child, asking me what size their kid wears. "My son's eight, what size should I be looking for?" My silent mind rebuttal: "My father is 55, what size do you think he would wear?" Age does not denote a universal size. For all I know your eight year old could be 150 pounds, or takes after your giant husband and is 5 feet tall. I'm no psychic, so unfortunately I can't help there. Wanna know if we have those bootcut jeans in a 14...we don't. So rather than stressing out the sales associate and yourself for that matter, if you are clueless to what size your kid wears, bring them with you. I can tell you that will be 100 percent more accurate than anything I could offer you.


I hope this has been advice to you all, since I know my main blog reading demographic parents with young children. If I am severely wrong about that, at least it amused you for the five minutes it took you to read. And just remember, the same goes for adults too, believe it or not just because I am 23 does not mean that's the size I wear in clothing. A fun fact for you all to absorb: they stop sizing clothes by age in the toddler sizes. So now you won't look like an idiot asking in the future.

In other, completely off topic news, I am completely putting my entire life on hold in a week and a half to go on a "vacation." I am pretty sure the timing is quite crappy with school and my job etc, but somehow I am making it work. I'll keep you posted on the aftermath of that decision, I'm sure it will be amusing in some sorts. But until then, watch out New Orleans, Jackson, Memphis, Little Rock and Fort Smith...you're in for a ridiculous treat!!

Also, as a P.S vote for my friend Kimi's graphic design for the H&M window display. It's amazing! As is she, and it's really easy to vote!! go here: http://www.yourarthere.com/entry/i-heart-ny/

I'll love you forever if you do it! Well scratch that, I already love you because you read my blog. Well vote, and then let me know....maybe we can work something out. ; )

TMI

You may or may not be familiar with a little social networking site called Facebook. Like most of the 20 something crowd I too consider myself to be a part of this phenomenon. I've been a member since before I moved to college, which was back in the dark ages of Myspace, when Facebook was only for those elite people who had college email addresses. Ah the good times. In fact, if you read this blog we are probably Facebook friends, because you most likely wouldn't know about it otherwise, unless of course you're a new reader who frequents the Serramonte Denny's. (Holler Chelsea!).

It has been an interesting few years watching Facebook slowly morph from a way to make new college friends, to a way to make new all aged friends,  to a creep-tastical stalking platform. I mean seriously, it's kind of ridiculous. Funny thing is, my thirteen year old self would have died with excitement over this kind of invention. And every once in a while she creeps back into my life and I find myself laying in bed with my laptop, eyes bugged out and burning, and somehow three hours have disappeared and I suddenly have a vague understanding of the current lives of people I never talked to in highschool. As more and more changes were made to Facebook, I slowly became less and less interested in the site. Don't get me wrong, I still check it every day, probably multiple times a day, and I use it more or less, but I don't find myself spending hours upon hours on it, and here is why:

I think we very easily forget just how many people we are Facebook friends with. Your collection of friends vary anywhere from your best friend in elementary school to that guy in your freshmen year college statistics class. People who you probably don't talk to at all anymore, yet they still have access to all your updates, and boy do you have access to theirs. Which brings me to my main Facebook concern:  Over-sharers.

Did I miss the memo where Facebook is no longer a public site? I understand there are privacy blockers etc, but not from the people you are friends with. So what do you want me to do with your status update detailing your "douchebag boyfriend" and how he "broke your heart, and you have been uncontrollably crying for weeks." Ummmm.....great weather we've been having? Why would that be necessary to post in public domain, is this now an occasion where I need to send a virtual card? Not to mention to continuing status updates every hour with things like "I thought we were meant to be," "You were the love of my life," "Please call me and we can work it out." Now you're just giving girls everywhere a bad reputation. Keep your crazy desperation to yourself, like the rest of us. I definitely think that writing out your feelings about a situation can help the venting process and clear your mind, but get a diary, make those pages suffer, because quite frankly I'm sick of logging on and being bombarded to by your pleads to get him to call you. It's possible I just don't have any compassion, but if he isn't returning your calls, I don't think the "power" of Facebook is going to change the situation.

Also included in the over sharing category: bowel movements or lack thereof, STD's, pictures of your pregnancy tests (you may be thrilled, but all I can think about when seeing that picture is how you peed on that stick, and then left it out long enough so you could grab a snap shot!) Deaths, this could be me being incompassionate again....buuuut it seems inappropriate to me to make updating your Facebook status one of the stages of grieving.

I also very much dislike those of you who feel it is necessary to update your status with a five paragraph essay. You understand the basic concept of sentence structure! That's great! Get a blog and prove it to the world like the rest of us. And please, if you are going to insist on using song lyrics, make sure they are correct! It's just sad if I, the most incompetent lyric person in the world, recognizes that those are the wrong words. It only means one of two things, the song you used is either a Country song, or not a good one. It only takes 2.5 seconds to hit up AZ Lyrics or something, and trust me, it's worth the time.

I guess we can basically conclude that I just think personal things should be kept personal, and not written all over Facebook. Could be hypocritical considering I sit here and write a blog about my life. But I would like to think for the most part I have abstained from any extreme over-sharing. And my defense is this: people can make the informed choice to read this blog or not, unlike my newsfeed which seems to have a mind of own. Right....? Right!

oooohhh South Park. Nails it every time. 

Words from the Wise

I officially started Graduate School....no turning back now! Despite the usual frustrations that come along with attending school, I am honestly really excited to be getting my Master's degree. The past few weeks in my classes have really made me realize that this is exactly what I want to be doing. So although I joke that this decision was all a big procrastination scheme to avoid growing up, it's actually part of the plan, and I wouldn't imagine my life any other way.

Doing a Graduate program is completely different that your Undergrad. It's insane. I kind of feel like a celebrity, I mean they really pull out all of the stops for you. You can practically pick and chose exactly what classes you want to take, you get a lot of extra perks, like extra library usage, special study areas, and the teachers and advisers are all so willing to meet with you and provide any help necessary.And then in the end I get to write a 120 page thesis paper on pretty much anything I want, as long as I can back it up with some research. How cool is that?

I figured, as a warm up, I'll write you a little piece about fashion right now. Obviously I'll probably never be able to parlay this into my thesis, and at this point in time I have no real research other than my personal opinion (why that isn't enough I'll never know). But I am very passionate about this, and I think it's important to share with the world:

Reasons Why I Have No Respect for Women Who Wear Jeans With No Back Pockets.

1. I know you bought those jeans in the juniors department. I can guarantee when you pull our your size tag, it's going to have an odd number on it. 5, 7, 9. Those would be juniors sizes, which in case anyone needed some clarification is meant for girls going through puberty. While you may have felt Paris Blues were a trusty jean through your middle school years, it is very important that you let go and accept the fact that you are no longer a teenager. I can't take you seriously as you strut through the market in your pocketless, bedazzled Baby Phat skinny jeans, I'm too distracted by the fact that you're pants are shouting "Immature! and Irresponsible!" at me.

 2. Pockets are amazing. Why anyone would want less pockets in the world is beyond me. Believe it or not this is one of the few design elements in the world that actually has a function! You can put things in them, like cash, or your ID, or your hands as you're standing around waiting for your friends to show up. There is nothing like trying to slickly pose attractively, while a cute guy walks buy, only to stumble as your hands slide right down your ass, because there was no pocket there to stop them. Plus, did I mention you can put things in them!

3. Not only do pockets have a practical function but they have a visual function as well. To make your ASS LOOK SMALLER! Seriously. Pocketless pants just shout "Look at my ass!" Which don't get me wrong, is awesome, if you have a great ass. Unfortunately in my experience most of the great asses in the world have more dignity and respect and spend most of their time parading around in pocketed denim. They too get self conscious you know. With those asses being covered up, it just leaves a bunch of cottage cheese jiggly-ness for the rest of us to witness. And if that isn't a sight for sore eyes, I don't know what is.

4. VPL- Visible Panty Line. Before we get into this one I would just like to say I hate the word "panties," but I understand that it is necessary to the topic so I am willing to make an exception. I'll just break this one down for you. The only reason you wear pocketless jeans is to show off what you consider to be a "great ass." If you wear regular underwear, all anyone can see is that thick outline under your pants, cutting into what you consider to be a "great ass." Therefore we cannot appreciate this considered "great ass" because we are too distracted by the incredibly large amount of underwear you have crammed under those tight jeans. All in all, just invest in something with some pocketage in the back. Or if you are insistent that you have a "great ass" get yourself a thong, or at least have the decency to go commando. 

5. The original jean sans back pockets is a little garment you so fondly refer to as Mom Jeans. So just remember next time, when you are thinking you are infusing some flavor and unique style into the world, you're wearing pants that originated from that wretched thin, high mid waisted, tapered number your grandmother used to wear. There is no amount of "modern" jewels and adornments that can hide that fact from the world. Hopefully next time you'll be wise and think twice before squeezing into those pocketless pants.

I hope the overall consensus after reading this bit is that all jeans baring no back pockets should be burned and never brought back into society. If you really have an issue with pockets, try a nice slack, or possibly something with a less noticeable welt pocket in the back. And for the love of God, don't pick something so tight! Or if you must, wear some leggings, but that could be quite another risk that I would love to discuss at another time. Like tights, I have a lot of things to say about leggings. Just embrace pockets, you never know, they could change your life!

A Letter, With Love

Dear "Bouncer" at Barney's Beanery,

The most descriptive thing I can say about you, to really encompasses that pleasurable personality, is that you are a huge dick. I'd really like to give you the benefit of the doubt, and assume you were trying to joke around about the situation, but it's obvious that if this was the case, your delivery needs some severe work. I understand that checking ID's at the door is a serious issue, but your apparent dedication and thoroughness to the job is absurd. I'm thinking you need a hobby, that way you can invest some of the passion into something healthier, and less of a nuisance to me. 

First off, I know you knew the minute you scanned the black light over the ID that it was real. There really aren't questions about that. I even excuse your need to shine your light right up in my face to make sure my eyes were really blue. The picture on my ID looks almost exactly like me. Oh wait, that's because it IS me. Not even 15 year old me, it's me like 20 year old me. I have the same hair color, pretty much the same cut and style, and I even took the time to straighten it last night which should have avoided any confusion. Never have I had such an issue with proving my own identity.

My opinion of you took a turn for the worse when you insisted I present you with a credit card with a matching name. "Really?!" It became obvious to me at that point that you don't seem to be very well educated because it took you a while to read and confirm the name. I understand it's difficult because my debit card says Lauren E. Welden, whereas my drivers license says Lauren Elizabeth Welden. It's a challenge, and I'm mildly happy that you were able to pull through in triumph.  But it wasn't enough to convince you. You know what, let me just throw my social security number you way, and then I'll write you a personal check. There's always room for a checkbook in my going out clutch. I hope they taught you how to compare signatures!

But what really cemented my disdain was after I showed you both my ID and credit card,you proceeded to ask me what my zodiac sign was. I hope to God that you are also a fellow Aries, because I find it extremely pathetic, that as a dedication to your job, you have memorized the time frames of each of the zodiac signs. I find your love for reading horoscopes an extremely emasculating trait. And I don't think I'll be completely alone in this feeling.

While to a small extent I am flattered that you possibly thought I was underage, I don't really appreciate being belittled and made to feel like a delinquent juvenile when just wanting something to eat for dinner. I'm pretty positive you just get some sort of pleasure in giving people a hard time. It's called a power complex, you should probably look into getting some help for that. FYI, being able to turn people away from a bar does not make you King of Everything. For future reference, the least you can do after making a girl stand outside for any length of time proving her identity, is throw her a smile or wink. I'll just have to take my gluten free business to a different Barney's, one that has less of a douche manning the door.

Much Love,
elle dub

midnight madness

As you can tell, I like to write a lot about my family. I guess you could say they inspire me. While I have said many things about my parents, I have yet to spend any real time talking about my siblings, my brothers in particular. (Don't get too excited Tommy and Bobby, the entire post isn't going to be about you.) Anyway for lack of a better word my brothers are kind of Star Wars nerds, in a cool gangsta way of course. Which is pretty limited being they are two white guys, but that's just a whole different story. Since they are seven years older than me, and at some point in my life I was young and impressionable, and not nearly as wise as I am now, I wanted to be just like them. Cut to elementary school Lauren in basketball shorts and a huge Nike basketball shirt. Again, a whole other part of my life we could tap into at a different time. But the point still stays the same, I wanted to do whatever "cool" things they did too.

 Straight up!

I'm pretty sure Star Wars (or Star Trek for that matter) put midnight showings of movies on the map. Because only people with enough passion for the characters and their fictional world, would be crazy enough to spend hours camping out to see a movie that won't be over til almost two thirty in the morning. And it's through that exact portal that midnight movies were introduced into my life. My brothers had that passion. Not quite the "full Chewbacca get up, camping multiple days" passion, but enough that we spent time in line, waiting with five hundred of our favorite Star Wars loving friends, to see the movies. Which I am almost positive I slept through parts of. In high school I was an amateur, I didn't have the right late night mentality. Obviously college has more than fixed that for me. Then of course comic book movies became the craze, and all the big ones started being released at midnight (anything to push those weekend box office totals!). So Star Wars turned into Pirates of the Caribbean, Superman, Batman, Iron Man, HARRY POTTER, and so many more. And unfortunately it would be a big lie if I left out the Twilight Saga.

But, since midnight movies has become such a trend, they practically release everything at 12:01 now. Back in San Francisco, my lovely roomie Kimi at Tv Snobbery and I, became midnight regulars. The reasoning behind it is genius if you ask me; if the movie isn't a huge release, practically NO ONE goes to see the movie at midnight. Which includes cranky kids forced to stay up past their bedtime, our ultimate pet peeve. It cracks me up that parents can't figure out why their kids are crying through the entire movie, I'm no expert but it might be because it's four hours past their bedtime, and they just don't care about Ashton Kutcher's half naked body as much as you apparently do. Midnight movies became SO much more enjoyable not having to deal with people on their cell phones, or kids throwing temper tantrums down the aisles. It was pure bliss. Of course this only applies to the smaller movies we saw, like Adventureland, Hairspray, or The Runaways. Popular movies are a whole different ballpark:

On Thursday night, Kimaaaay and I decided to go see Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. Sounded like a great plan, but what I didn't for see was how popular this movie was gonna be. A duh Lauren!! It's based on a graphic novel. Well silly me was just looking forward to a little laughing with Michael Cera and Jason Schwartzman, but what I really got was a fun filled evening with a hundred of my graphic novel loving friends. I'll break it down for you:

After making a trip to the market to get snacks and magazines we walk into the mall, purchase our tickets and go up to the theater at about ten forty to get seats. (Not because we thought it would be packed, but because I got off work and the theatre is right there). Turns our we weren't even close to being the first people there. It was pretty crowded. Immediately I realize everyone is of high school age, I discover this due to the volume at which they were shouting. Remember when you were in high school and you talked really loudly to get attention from people? No...that was just me? Hmmm. Anyway, everyone is obnoxiously screaming. Thinking they're being cool of course, which just makes me cringe. I try and steer clear of reminding myself how obnoxious I possibly once was at that age. Now pair that with the naivety, and I am just raging with embarrassment. I feel bad for kids in high school who think they know everything, there is just so much more out there, they are unaware of, I had an urge to tell them to just calm down and be patient. (Johnny's gonna grow up to be a douchebag anyway, so no need to shout obscenities at the screen just so he notices you!) Not to mention it wasn't really my type of crowd. I was outcast due to my lack of beanie with animal ears and striped knee socks. I opened my giant issue of Glamour and tried to focus on all the hair/makeup/dating/health tips and avoid any eye contact, so as not to have my lack of geekiness discovered.

Overall the movie was actually really enjoyable. Once I got over all the screaming and cheering from the crowd (IT'S A MOVIE, THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU!) I was also tired and freeeeezing in the theater, which probably attributed greatly to my crankiness. I think I learned that I should definitely do some more research into movies before I decide to see them at midnight.... during the summer....when school is out of session. It was clear we were some of the very few in the over 21 crowd. I tried my best to talk loudly, but it hurts my aging ears. Even Kimi, a fellow nerd, was out of place. I mean here I always thought she put forth all of her passion into her love for sci fi, but it's clear she's been half ass-ing it. Which I think is A-OK. Cause I kinda like her the way she is.

As for my brothers....since I know you are all wondering. They have mellowed in their old age. Not nearly as intense as they once were, but still very avid fans of the Star Wars franchise. And don't forget those Ninja Turtles! Thanks to them I probably know a little more about Star Wars than you do, and I have developed quite a healthy love for comic book movies. And I'm hot. That's right, I'm the perfect girl. Oh juuuust kidding. Up next for sure on the midnight movie list: AAAAARRRYYY POTTTAAAHHH and the Deathly Hallows. Now there's a crowd I can put on my glasses and lightening bolt and get behind.

Oh those crazy kids.  

What Color You Like??

I rarely get my nails done. I like having manicured nails and toes, but I practically never pay for them to be done and this is why:

1. I seriously think I have the most easily chippable nails in the world. I swear I can sit down with my wrists shackled down to the chair and I would still manage to nick a nail, causing a obvious space of missing polish. So I figure if I am capable of cutting and filing my own nails, not to mention have a pretty steady hand when it comes to painting them, why not just do them myself. It saves me money, and I don't feel like it's as much of a waste if I chip them instaneously.

2. I am ridiculously ticklish. Everywhere. And this includes having someone rub lotion up and down my arms and especially my feet and legs. For the safety of everyone involved, it's just better if I avoid these sort of situations. I assume the manicurist would not enjoy taking a foot to her face, as I twitch uncontrollably in laughter.

3. Lastly, I think I just lack that girl gene that makes getting "pampered" something I love to do. I mean I love to do my hair and make up and my own nails, but I get really uncomfortable when other people do them for me. It's probably my awkwardness getting nervous about having to make conversation about life, etc. I am very independent, and I hate relying on other people to get things done. Every now and then it is nice to have your eyebrows done, or cuticles cut back, but I am pretty decent at maintaing them in between the occasional visits. I mean I have yet to have any real complaints on my overall appearance. (With the exception of my horribly tacky taste sometimes...an inevitable characteristic of a creative mind.)

But despite all of these very logical reasons, I was seduced by the idea of catching up with friends I hadn't seen in a while, and found myself at a local nail salon with two of my good friends.

As all three of us arrive and congregate for our quick hellos, they whisk my two friends off to get their treatments started right away. I figured this would be good, because I was only intending to have my toes done. (I have to do a lot of work tomorrow involving opening boxes and moving things around, and I just know my nails will be destroyed in the process.) So I sit in the waiting area alone, where I proceed to be talked into playing "pet shop" by the little daughter of one of the manicurists. She was just so cute and I'm a sucker for little kids. After about fifteen minutes on being scolded by the adorable three year old, I just wasn't playing the game correctly, it's finally my turn to get started.

They tell me to sit in the massage spa chair in the corner, isolated from my friends, which immediately put an end to us catching up with each other. One women proceeds to to set up a manicure station as my feet are soaking. I try to stop her by saying "Oh I just want my toes done." Her grand rebuttal was "but we do it all at the same time." I was still hesitant, but it only took her about a minute more of pestering before I caved. So there I sit in this giant chair, with one woman working on my nails and the other on my toes. Both are criticizing the obvious lack of care I have for having my "digits" done professionally on a regular basis. (And people wonder why this isn't an enjoyable experience for me.) Then they insist on turning the massage chair on, which just made me break out into hysterics over the whole situation. I'm sitting there in this big black chair being jumbled around, gyrating, and pushed back and forth, while the two women mumble to each other. Grumpily, it takes them a couple minutes longer because I want the same color on my nails and toes, and of course there is only one bottle. After twenty minutes of being criticized and thrown around in the chair, I am finally done, and they don't waste any time in getting me up and out and on my way.

Low and behold, as we're getting pushed out the door, I scramble for my sunglasses and smudge a nail. Awesome. Money well spent. I think for now, I'll stick to my own mani/pedi's. I rarely talk trash on the state of my own nails, or question my lack of a boyfriend.

I think Anjelah Johnson says it best in her stand up routine. It's funny because it's true. Oh so true.

Helloooo Southern US! We are arriving!

In October, my freshman year formal date, lake walking buddy, and former college roomie Beth is getting married. (The first of all our college friends!) In Arkansas! My pal and fellow LA dweller, Kimi, and I thought what a great excuse not only to see old friends, but to also take a trip to somewhere in the U.S that we have never been. I have done a lot of traveling across the seas, but I definitely want to see more of the United States. We figured since we are going to be out there anyway, maybe there are some different cities and states we could tack on to the trip, turning it into a wild raging adventure. After minimal research we found that low and behold New Orleans is only 600 miles-ish from where the wedding is! Perfection.

We have been discussing the possibility of a road trip from Louisiana to Arkansas for a few months now, and I was always skeptical about it really happening. I always knew we'd make it to the wedding, but I wasn't sure if we would get ourselves together quick enough to organize the rest of the week long trip. Well yesterday we decided to make it happen and officially booked our plane tickets. So watch out land of deep fried everything! The glu-tards are coming for you!

We both couldn't be more excited. Not only have we not seen Beth in what will probably be a year or so (wow, really? Is that true....fact checker please!) but I have never been to most of the places we plan to head on this adventure. So far nothing is really set, all we know is that we're landing in New Orleans on October 4th, renting a car, and then flying out of Tulsa on October 10th. The middle part is still up in the air. (well actually on land, since that's the part of the venture we'll be road tripping) Obviously there is still a lot of work to be done, and any advice or suggestions are greatly welcomed!!

According to our AAA trip tick we are going to be driving through Jackson, Memphis, and Little Rock, with the possibility in staying overnight in any of those cities, so please help us out with any suggestions of places that need to be stayed in or things that need to be seen!

This is my first real big trip without adult supervision. Haha. Well, other than Kimi and I supervising ourselves. I guess I unfortunately have to admit that I'm at least a little bit adult nowadays. It's sure to be an extraordinary journey, and I cannot wait to finish it off with seeing one of my favorite people beautifully glide down the aisle. (And I mean beautifully, so I hope you're practicing that saunter Beth!)

And seriously people don't hold back on the suggestions...we're gonna need them. I don't want to risk missing the biggest ball of twine or something! That would be an EPIC fail in Kodak opportunities.

Retail Re-tales

When I lived in San Francisco the store I worked at was in the heart of the city, right down the street from Union Square, so most of the people I dealt with were tourists from foreign countries. But now that I am back in the valley, the clientele could not be more different. The new store I work at is much smaller and therefore has a much smaller pool of customers. This store being more of a local neighborhoody one, rather than a huge tourist attraction, deals with more returns and exchanges of clothing than I could ever imagine. If there is anything I have learned in the last few weeks, it's that every return has a story.

This is mine:

" I don't have the receipt because I obviously shredded it the minute I got out of the store. I do that with all my receipts. I don't like the possibility of all my information floating around. Identity theft is a big crime, ya know. I also ripped all the tags off the clothes because I don't really like trying things on with that little piece of paper hanging off the side. It just throws the entire look off.

I washed each of the items, because who knows what kind of germs and infestations grow in clothing that has sat in a store for a few weeks. When I washed them, these little holes developed in the front of the dress, most likely because I put the clothes in the washing machine with rocks. A completely normal practice, everyone does it. A dress should be constructed to withstand a rock washing, it is absolutely absurd that it would disintegrate on only the first try.

 After I washed and wore the shirt I bought three times, I realized it's the wrong size. So I'd like to return it, and I would like cash back. I'll take my shirt business to another store. One that has HUGE size labels so I don't ever make this mistake again. I knew when I threw it on for the third time, after my gym session last week, something seemed a little off. This is a XXL, and as you can see, I only wear a XL

Lastly, I have a pair of sandals I bought only a week ago that just completely ripped apart. I was running full speed through sand and then water for about eight hours. Then when I got home, my dog got a hold of them, and it was somewhat of a confrontation struggle to get them back. But as you can clearly see from the shredded nature and teeth marks, these shoes seem to be very poorly made.  I expected twelve dollar shoes to be much sturdier than that.

I am sure that all of this information is really going to help you process this return. Surely since I have had such a traumatic experience, you can make an exception when it comes to taking these items back. I have no receipts and no tags, and nothing to prove that I actually bought any of this stuff recently.. But since they all have sewn in tags that clearly display your store name, I am expecting you to take every destroyed piece back and reimburse me fully. In cash. I also intend to dictate to you all the prices I paid for each of these items. I don't care if it's on clearance now, I paid full price for it. I swear."

Best Friend Adventures

Life is always an adventure when it comes to my biffle Cori. I think she is probably my oldest friend, and one of the only people I still talk to from those dreaded middle school/ high school years. That alone should say how pretty freaking awesome she is. After high school we traveled our separate ways to college, and it has been five years since we have been in the same town together, so it's obvious that some real craziness needs to happen. Apparently we have been making up for those lost years, because since I have been back we have been hanging out ALOT, and when Cori is involved, good times are sure to ensue. So far she has made my move to LA feel like the right decision, and the fun has only just begun.

Yesterday, feeling fun and adventurous, we decided to ride our bikes around Balboa Lake. The fact that I am not the most practiced bicycle rider should probably have been my first red flag. Let's just say for the safety of the cars on the road, it is much better that I ride my bike on the sidewalk. You would think that as a twenty three year old, I should be able to ride my bike pretty steadily, but in my case we can just say the "wobbling" is part of my charm. Despite this important factor, I decided to be spontaneous and power through. I borrowed my Dad's truck and I got ready to go pick up Cori and her bike. When I arrived at Cori's house, I realized that we both had very different ideas of what this bike ride was going to be like, let's go ahead break it down:

Lauren: thinking this was going to be an exercising opportunity, I put on running shorts, a tank top and my running shoes. What else would you go bike riding in? I threw my wet hair into a single french braid, for obvious practicality: staying out of my face, but not interfering with safety of wearing a helmet. I also put together a bag with a bottle of water, sunscreen, chaptstick, and the other essentials like phone, keys, etc. I threw my purple mountain bike in the bed of the truck and zoomed off to pick Cori up. I find her on the corner of her block as follows:

Cori: Standing there with her electric blue beach cruiser, my dear friend has on a slinky black summer dress, rainbow sandals, curly voluptuous hair, and a little side purse. And no helmet. WHAT!? (can we just reiterate for one moment that my hair is in a single french freaking braid.) Did I miss the memo, is there some sort of hot guy biking convention happening, was I supposed to dress to impress? Not to mention as we get later into the ride, we find out that in her side purse she has lip gloss and breath mints, all the practical items for a bike ride. I think she may have had a minor lapse in clear judgement, and forgot that we actually don't live in a cute beach town like Venice. I don't think the Balboa Lake crowd is really an appropriate pool to fish for men. But hey, that's just my opinion. I have been wrong before. (it's rare, but possible.)

Although my little bag was packed with a girl scout's "always be prepared" mentality, one thing I did forget to put in what Cori so fondly called my "man satchel," was an extra tube for my tire. I think on normal bike excursions this precaution is not usually necessary, except when your tire pops less than halfway through the five mile journey. Which mine did. Obviously. It's okay though, we weren't really looking forward to bike riding, what we really wanted to do was to go bike walking. I mean Cori was so appropriately dressed for that sort of activity. And thank god for those breath mints, they really kept us going.

And so went my walk of shame, with my butch braid and man satchel, pushing my flat tired bike all the way back to the car.

Lesson Learned: get a full bike tune up ASAP. Dress cuter when "working out" with my best friend. But none the less, even when things don't go according to plan they can still be hysterically fun. As long as you're in good company.

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old adventures in Tuscon

Parental Guidance

Disneyland is easily one of my favorite places in the world. Growing up in LA, I have been fortunate enough to visit the park a lot during my childhood, and at least once a year for the last ten years. Tickets have become so outrageously priced, it makes me sad to think how much money parents spend to give their kids that magical experience. If you like Disneyland, (which there are some crazy people out there who don't) it's one of those places that can be fun no matter what age you are. Yesterday I got to do my first trip of this year, and while it was still every bit as magical as it always is, it also reminded me of some serious issues I have with the general public.

Obviously when you go to Disneyland you expect to deal with a lot of children running around, laughing, and crying. And although I think it's unnecessary for your child to scream bloody murder for 20 straight minutes while you eat lunch, it's not the kid and his set of lungs I have a problem with. It's the parent. I completely understand that there needs to be boundaries set, but sometimes when it comes to a public place, with a thousand of your closest Mickey loving friends,  you might just need to give that kid an extra fucking cookie. Yesterday just pretty much confirmed an idea that my pal Kimi and I have had for quite a while:

People should have to take a test before they are allowed to become parents.

This needs to be a serious test of whether or not these people have the skill set necessary to raise children. We will of course have to address the obvious stuff, like whether or not they are abusive, or horribly addicted to drugs, or in the mafia. But once they get past that first set of evaluations, the real issue will be at hand: Stroller Etiquette.

I get it. You birthed a child. I give you mad props for that, and I am in no way trying to say I know more about raising children than you. I don't. But when I do have a child, (in the far far future) I don't think I'm going to suddenly feel it's okay to ram people down with my stroller. It's not a utilitarian vehicle. It's not even a hummer. You do not have the right to plow through the crowds. You are not getting where you are going any faster. In fact, you continually "flat tiring" my shoes is actually slowing me down, which in turn is slowing you down. While the back of my foot appreciates your subtlety in asking me to get out of your way, if you're so insistent on being a raging stroller driver get a horn or a megaphone. I'd rather be given the opportunity to get out of the way before I am just mowed down.

Contrary to what you may be thinking child leashes are not the answer to this problem. I have never been a fan of "walking" your child like a dog, it seems degrading and barbaric. But most importantly, for anyone who has ever seen a 101 Dalmatians, we all know what kind of sticky situations leashes can get us into. When it's you, me, and your five year old child fighting to get out of the tangled mess, I hardly think I'll come out of the situation with a soulmate like Roger and Pongo did. As a society we should just nix leashing our children, I have faith that we can survive with some love and hand holding.

So next time you're feeling the urge to powerfully thrust your stroller into a crowd of innocent bystanders, save the rage for the underground stroller racing ring. At least there you have the possibility of coming home with some cash. Although I guess if you mug the next person you plow over, you'd also be coming back with some winnings. Thoughts for later. But most importantly, calm down, and exercise patience when pushing your child through crowds. Remember we are all practicing constraint, because if I had it my way, I'd sucker punch the back of your head.

If we are all just aware of each other, then we can enjoy the magic. I mean it is the fucking happiest place on earth.

 To Infinity and Beyond...!