New Years. Lame.

Here comes New Years again. Here is my take on New Years. New Years is and forever will be completely and totally disappointing. It does not matter what you're doing or where you are. You could be with the funnest (yeah, funnest, okay?) people in the world in the coolest place in the world and it's absolutely no different than if you were sitting at home playing Oregon Trail with a bottle of carbonated fruit juice (which I recall as being some of the best New Years ever, actually), because New Years could never ever live up to the excitement.
I can tell you where the worst place in the world to be on New Years is, though. Times Square. Times Square is obnoxious enough on a normal day, do you really want to crowd in there with thousands of people and watch a gigantic glass ball slowly creep toward the ground?
Maybe you do.
I would rather play Oregon Trail and die of dysentary.
The problem is, it's a countdown and so you feel like "ooohhh.. somethings going to happen at twelve! What's it going to be? It's going to be so sweet!"
Even though you know nothing's going to happen, subconciously you still feel like it is.
So, this is my proposal, tenatively called Laura's New Year Plan. What happens is, the government puts aside a budget and we use the money to make something cool happen every year so no one feels let down on New Years. I feel as though this would be the best possible use of my tax dollars.
For instance,
2007- As the ball gets to five, the front swings open (hinges have been masterfully hidden), revealing Tupac, who sings "Dear Mama" and then tells us all where he's been hiding since he faked his death.

I would feel immensely satisfied by this surprise, because I've been telling Erin forever that Tupac is still alive.

2008- Instead of the Waterford crystal ball, a gigantic pinata is lowered over Times Square. People begin hitting it and candy and metro cards and jewerly and Broadway tickets and dolla dolla bills fall out, blanketing Times Square in coolness.

I'm taking suggestions, so please feel free to contribute.
Until all of this goes in effect though, probably the only thing that could make New Year's worthwhile is if Erin called up and told me she was having a baby, like I've been asking for forever.
Take one for the team, Erin. Don't ruin my New Years.

The Pain and Suffering of Others Is Never Funny.
Never, ever, ever.

Who's the Weird One, Me or Estelle?

Just before we left for Christmas, Rob and I looked around our apartment and said to ourselves, "Why is there almost nothing on the walls?", followed by, "Why is this place the biggest disaster on Earth, all the time?"
So, we decided to get decorating and organizing.
First, we went to Ikea yesterday, where we purchased a filing cabinet thing for under our desk so all our crap will now be off the floor, a small chest to hide all of Rob's music crap in, as well as a few small knick knacky things.
Then today I went out and bought stuff to put on the walls. I happen to think it's the coolest stuff ever. I bought a photo mobile, magnetic photo strings, some small stuff to frame and the 2007 Kalamazoo Calendar, and I'm going to frame all of the pictures from it because they are awesome.
I'm a little afraid for when Rob comes home and sees what I bought, though.
Rob and I have very different decorating styles (Perhaps you remember The Birds)
The specific difference is, mine is cool, his is not.
Yesterday at Ikea, Rob comes up to me with a bag of potpourri and small blue woven basket and says "What do you think about this for the bathroom?"
I say to Rob, "Rob. Is there an old lady named Estelle hiding inside of you?"
Rob nods.
I am not a potpourri type of girl.
He also tried to pick out an old man painting for our wall.
We are at an impass. No birds for me, no old men and potpourri for him.
I tend to think I'm the one with the good sense, but then I think about something Erin said to me once, specifically, "Laura. Are you ever going to stop decorating like you're living in a dorm room?"
Got to love my family! So honest!
We will see what happens when Estelle gets home.

So much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to say-ay (like the Dave Matthews song)

First, I heard this song coming home tonight. This must be the most unfathomably melodramatic wussy song I've ever heard. "You don't need to bother/ I don't need to be"? I think someone in my high school poetry class wrote this. Also, it was followed by The Freshman, which is BAD BAD KARMA.

Lets talk about good music, such as the video music diary I received as a present on Friday night. Joey Joe and the boys knew what real music was. As a matter of fact, I believe it was this little stanza of pure genius that got me interested in writing to begin with:

Listen up everybody if you wanna take a chance.
just get on the floor and do the new kids dance.
Dont worry bout nothing cause it wont take long.
were gonna put you in a trance with a funky song

However, I do have a little advice for you for the next video, guys. On the 'Hangin Tough' track- if you have to have "We're Rough" scroll across the screen in neon pink letters.. you're probably not that rough. Rough is just one of those things that speaks for itself. Awesome hair-dos though, no worries..

Something questionable I did this week...
The thing about being bored at work is that it's not like when we were growing up. The internet.. so accessible! You end up doing stupid things. For instance, last year, while bored at work, I decided to become an aerobics instructor. Not sure why.
This time, even stupider. I signed up to run a half marathon. On one hand, it's really good. There's a 13 week training camp before hand where they put you in a running group and you work up to the 13 miles. On the bad side, I'll be running outside in the frigidy Michigan winter. What this all points to is the fact that I need a job that keeps me busy.
This is me pledging, however, that I will never sign up to run anything longer than 13 miles.

Rob: Most Embarrassing Person Ever? You Decide.


So. We're in the coffee shop right now. Rob's grading papers and, because he hates grading papers, every time he finishes one, he makes me give him a high five, apparently to keep morale up or something. Not a little low-key five. We're talking hand straight up in the air, makes your palms sting high five. You're thinking to yourself "So just don't do it." Except that, he holds his hand up in the air and stares at you with this freaky frozen smile face until you give him the high five. I feel like I'm in Punky Brewster or a college orientation skit. People are staring. And I ask you, what did I do to deserve this?

Boy, 11, Kicks Hawk In Face To Save Puppy

I swear to you, this is an actual headline on CNN today and not a subplot in an Adam Sandler movie.

Resolution

I wear this shirt in honor of Sierra who never gets to explore her Jewish roots. Seriously though, Sierra gets mad at Erin every year because her friends get to celebrate Hannukah and she doesn't.
"Well, why can't we just be Jewish?"
A fair question, Sierra, a fair question.
Where's your answer to THAT, Erin?

I just came up with a New Year's Resolution. I'm going to travel more this year. Here is my list of places I would like to go (half of which will never happen, seeing as I am poor and penniless. But that's what resolutions are for...)

Laura's Travel Plans 2007

February- New York for a weekend
April- St. Louis to see Lily for a few days over spring break. If she can't get time off, I'll just work with her at the zoo, herding llamas or something. Last time I visited Lily I got to touch a rhino's tongue. Top that.
July- Up to Blissfest, but I was thinking of maybe applying to go to the Tin House Seminar in Oregon. This will interfere with Blissfest though. Boo for that. Change your dates, Tin House.
Some other month during the year- Rob has promised to take me to Napa Valley even though he thinks it will be boring.
Another, nother month- Erin and I are taking a trip somewhere. I haven't told her yet. Hey, Erin. We're taking a trip somewhere together next year. Be there.

Charmer

You know, with the nothing books and all, I saved pretty much everything from high school. One thing that I'm really sad that I somehow did not save was a note that I got from a guy friend my freshman year asking me out.
This was the greatest note of all time.
Apparently, at the young age of 15, this guy had somehow come to the conclusion that his options were sparse and he had better go ahead and settle down before every last female on earth was taken. I say this because he sent me this note:

Dear Laura:
blahblahblahblahblah
I wanted to know if you would go out with me. I know you're not the prettiest girl in school, but you're true blue.

I laugh every time I think about this note
Good old Jim, taking one for the team and asking the ugly girl out.
I will bear him many sons and do what needs to be done for the children. Plus, my dowry is two goats and a cow (lots, because I am so ugly)
I would pay actual money to still possess that note.

Seriously, Laura? Seriously?


The portfolio for my class is due Thursday. I have much, much more to do. I was going to do it today, but then I got side-tracked by Christmas shopping, decorating the tree and getting online, and now I have to clean the house because we have people coming over for game night tonight.
Procrastination is the bane of my existence.
I think I'm taking a personal day on Tuesday. Which would actually work out well because Erni is coming on Tuesday and then I could just go out for lunch whenever.
No classes next semester. I am fresh out of willpower.

Super Secret Hush-Hush



This is my super-secret weapon. I like to call it 'icicle'. I've been building it inch by icy, pointy, death-filled inch. I am smart and crazy like a ninja. If I see someone trying to break into my house, I will smack a broom handle against the top of it and unleash icy fury!
IT'S BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT!!

Do not mess with ninja masterminds.

Stupid Things I Do and I Am A Badass Lumberjack

As we've discussed in the past, I am not a social guru. Actually, I make an ass of myself on a daily basis. Something I like to do a lot is start to say a word and then change my mind about what word I'm saying halfway through, so that a lot of nonsense blubbering ends up coming out of my mouth.
For example, I'm leaving the chiropractor today.
At first, I decide to say "Bye"
Then, halfway through, my brain tells my mouth, "No, say 'Night' instead"
So, I end up yelling out, on my way out of the chiropractor's office,
"Bite!"
Then I tell myself that no one heard me, but really everyone did and they're wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
Seriously, people think I have a very polite form of Tourettes.

Speaking of the chiropractor, I think he's trying to brainwash me. They have this little TV in the room while you're waiting and it's all of these informational things and lame quizzes.
First of all, I hate those quizzes because they're like
True or False:
In 500 B.C. Archimedes discovered that music has healing properties.

Come on, guys. What is the point of making that a true or false question? It's obviously true if you put all that detail in there. Why don't you just say "Did you know.."
If it were my office, though, I would make it a true and false quiz and then the answer would be false. No explanation, nothing, just 'false'

True or False?
In Egyptian folklore the three eyed cat represents the trifecta of healing properties, one of which is chiropractic medicine
False.

But anyhow, the point is, I think he's trying to turn me against traditional medicine. All the info today was like "Antibiotics cover up the root of the problem. Chiropractors advocate natural healing" and "Did you know, Antibiotics are associated with cancer?"
A few more visits and I won't let my kids go to the doctor anymore, and they'll have to sit in the hall during birthday parties at school.
It'll be like:
"Mom! I've got a goiter the size of a basketball!"
"Oh, don't worry honey, it's just your spine. You just need an adjustment!"

Moving on...


























This is the tree that I cut down.
SINGLEHANDEDLY.
I AM A BADASS LUMBERJACK.
That tree never saw me coming, I started sawing away and it fell over.
Then I put it on my blue ox and we all went out for pancakes.

Blasphemy

I am making myself the ultimate Christmas mix album CD. I am doing this because it will bring a little joy to my work life. I am also decorating the plastic tree in our office with lights and ornaments. You do what you have to.
Upon searching for songs for my superfabchristmasmix, I ask you, who re-does ('covers', whatever) the John Lennon "Happy Christmas/War Is Over" song?
The answer: Lots of people.
To you people, I say. Just Say No.
Don't do it.
Seriously.
I like analogies.
Do architects ever say "That Eiffle Tower is so cool. I think I'll build another one just like it.
No. Or if they do, they're retarded.
If you have counter-arguments about this, I'm not interested.
Let it be people, it was about as good as it gets the first time around.

Also, do you know what classic Christmas song ITunes does not have?
A little ditty I like to call "Funky, Funky Christmas" by NKOTB.
I think, though, that if I searched long and hard in my basement, I could find my old tape of it. I imagine it's in with my NKOTB pajamas and posters and giant pins and VHS tapes and key chains.
Or it's in my closet as we speak.
Whatever.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

It's.
Flipping.
Cold.
And slippery. Very slippery. I fell coming out of Saladays tonight. Rob, gentleman that he is, even felt so bad for me that he helped me up and let me dust off my jeans before he started laughing and yelling "you fell!". Charming, that Rob.
What combats all of the coldness and slipperyness?
Breathe Right Strips.
You heard me. Breathe Right Strips. They're freeing. Say what you will about them, but Rob went and got me some last night when my sinuses were all clogged up.
The difference is night and day.
So I say, why save it for when you're sleeping?
Which is why I am wearing one this very second, as I drink a glass of wine and type on my blog.
Try it, you'll thank me.

Please Burn My Eyes Out With A Hot Poker

They switched the Men's and Women's locker rooms at my gym and I forgot all about it. I definitely walked in to the wrong one and saw an old man completely naked and I'm not quite sure how I'll ever be able to scrape the image off of my retinas.

Dear famiglia,
You might as well stop looking for your ugly ornament because I have already found the ugliest ornament ever created.
Sorry for the bad news,
Me

Damn you, Duck

Today. Today, I'm on my way to class. I am late because SOMEONE was supposed to drop me off at class but forgot about me, forcing me to drive myself to class with a pocket full of parking meter quarters, stolen out of my piggy bank, at the last possible second. So I'm zooming along (and by 'zoom' I mean observing all speed limits and driving regulations), I'm almost there, I'm by the Goldsworth Valleys..... you're on the edge of your seat, I can tell... when an entire gaggle of ducks decides to cross the street. So they cross. Waddle, waddle, I'm waiting, I'm watching the clock, they're almost across.. except for one duck. There is a hesitant duck. Damn duck is standing on the very edge of the curb, leaning forward even, I swear. But he just won't cross. I am in my car yelling "GOOO DUCK!! GOOO! I'M GOING TO RUN YOU OVER, DUCK!!"
The duck will not be swayed.
I think he's about to cross and... then the duck cranes his little ducky neck toward me and laughs. And then he looks me straight in the eye and he mouths "sucker".
I hit the gas but he flew away before I could get him.
From now on, I'm throwing all my plastic six-pack holders away without cutting them apart.
Bastard.

Today: Sweet? I Think So.

1. Conversation I just had with my dad:
My dad (picking up the phone): "JAMBO!!"
Me: "What?"
Dad: "Jambo!"
Me: "What is Jambo?"
Dad: "It's Swahili for hello!"
Me: "Why are you speaking Swahili?"
Dad: "Because it's KWANZAA!"

Lately, my dad seems to think he's the Grand Master of Holidays. Today I got a "National Tell People at Work to go to Hell Day" e-card. I've been informed that tomorrow is National Electric Guitar Day, so please plan accordingly.

2. I had the BEST massage today. Because I'm going to the chiropractor and he prescribed massages, my insurance covers them. I get hour-long massages once a week for $6, and all I have to do is let the chiropractor crack my neck and possibly cause my entire spinal column to crumble.
And no, these are not Open Till 2 AM along the Interstate massages.
You would do it, too.
The massuse (masuse? Ma-Suess?) came out to get me and she was the smallest person I've ever seen. This was deceiving, because she was an uber-tough massager.

3. I have two funny stories from work, but I'm kind of concerned about writing about work, due to the fact that you can find my blog if you google my name.

3a. Not that I think people spend their free time googling my name, but you can never be too careful.

4. I went to the gym today. This is two days in a row. I never go two days in a row. Yay for me.

5. I had some KILLER soup today at Panera. Butternut Squash. So good that I actually got some to go after I was done so I can take it in my lunch tomorrow.

6. I was under the impression that there were five more weeks of school (work) until Christmas break, come to find out that there are actually only FOUR.

7. The key to being happy at work is to get a super-caffinated beverage in the morning. Then you feel kind of laughy and stupid all day. Yes, I'm drugging myself. Different strokes for different folks, people.

8. 'Strokes' is a word with weird connotations and I promise not to use it again unless there is no other option.

9. It is 9:30pm and I literally just walked in the door for the first time since I left at 6:30am this morning.

10. I have a small heater fan underneath my desk at work, and I accidentally left it on. The OCD portion of my brain, inherited from Erin, is currently insisting that it's going to inadvertently burn the entire building down.

More On Music
First of all, I'd like to give a shout out to my Aunt Dawn, who I promised to say hi to two years ago and have yet to deliver.
That was bad grammar, but I'm too tired to fix it.
Let's talk about music again. Because I am the master of procrastination, I spent a good hour last night going through the ITunes Essentials mix albums listening to all the songs that were popular when I was in high school.
Remember that song "I Wanna Sex You Up"?
Of course you do. It's a contemporary classic. Our grandchildren will be singing it.
Were you aware that one of the lines in that song is:
"Girl you make me feel real good
We can do it 'til we both wake up"

Can we talk about the all the problems with that lyric?
You fell asleep?

I'm not even touching that one.

Tonight, Rob and I got new ringtones for our phones.
Rob got "Ignition Remix" by R. Kelly and is hoping it goes off in class.
I'm hoping it doesn't go off in a store when I'm standing anywhere near him.
He claims it's his (and I quote) "Anthem".

Christmas presents purchased today: 2

If I Could Change The World

Most people, if they had access to a time machine, would go back in time and change some massive event. This is the case for me as well. If I had the chance, I would go back to the year 1991, I would walk into the room where What's His Name was composing the monumental hit "The Freshman", and I would break his pencil in half. And then, if necessary, I would eat the pencil.
That song, so very deep when you're in high school, is like freaking NAILS ON A CHALKBOARD to me now. And it's stalking me. You know "I've Got You Babe" from Groundhog's Day? That's me and The Freshmen. Leave me in peace! No more shoes full of rice!

FYI: The Fish Dies On Pg. 95

I just finished The Old Man And The Sea.
You should have stuck it out, even though it seemed pretty lame for about the first 25 pages. The fish finally dies on pg. 95. If you want to skip to that part, I will understand.
I'll get you caught up to there with a quick sum up:
Fish.
Boy.
Fish.
Sure would like that fish.
That fish is huge.
Come on Fish.
I'm gonna kill you fish.
Bloody hands.
Fish.
How'd you like a harpoon to the head?
Got you, sucka.

Pick it up from there.
I'm just kidding, I actually really liked it. On Ernest's behalf, you have to be pretty sweet to pull off 95 pages of fish-suspense ("Fishspense", if you will) in a 125 page book.
Excellent job, Ernest. Though I still think the mojito was your most awesome accomplishment.

Oh yeah, Ohio State? OH YEAH???
Hmm.. that was fun. For a minute there it wasn't almost like I cared about football.
We're going to the new downtown theater tonight! Yay for new theaters! Yay for Kalamazoo! Yay for downtown not being depressing and rundown anymore!
Hey, it appears as if blogger now has spell check. I guess you all won't have to suffer through 'wierd' vs. 'weird' anymore. (And it's only because of spell check that I know that the first one is incorrect. Also, 'yay' is apparently not a word or not spelled that way. Moving on..)
I went for a massage today. It was all fine and good until the end when she made me feel stupid by saying "How was everything? I didn't get much talking from you so I didn't know how it was going.", to which I say, who talks during a massage? That's the whole point!
Friday at work was great, no one was there bothering me and the day flew by. Partially because I spent a good deal of it screwing around, but not the point.
I also looked up a bunch of stuff on Wikipedia. Did you know...
Former famous resident of Bronxville:
J.F. freaking K. I LOVE J.F.K.! I have a favorite everything. Here are just a few (of my fay!-vorite things!):
Favorite Presidents: JFK and Abraham Lincoln, as well as James Monroe, our illustrious fifth president, only because I did a report on him in 3rd grade.
Favorite color: Green. No contest.
Favorite numbers: 3 and 7
Favorite volcano: Mt. Vesuvius. Naysayer Sara says "That's only because you don't know any other volcanoes", but I beg to differ because I know Mt. St. Helen and don't think nearly as highly of it.
Favorite Movies: Good Will Hunting and Garden State
Favorite Car: Though Lola Corolla is fantastic, my heart stays true to Onda-Onda the Silver Honda, which Gordita and Mini sold off without a second thought, almost as if she wasn't a member of the family.
Favorite Thanksgiving Dish: Stuffing.
Favorite Show: Lost. Want to say something bad about it? Want to fight me?
Favorite Restaurant: Used to be Lodo's. Then they got rid of the fajitas. To which I say, screw you.
Favorite Bar: The Wheel. Once, I did a cartwheel outside of the wheel and messed up my wrist.
Favorite Mode of Transportation: Train. traintraintraintraintraintraintrain.
Enough is enough.

On Suckiness

There are approx. 250 staff members in my building.
Me and one other person have to work on Friday. That's it. Why? Because it's a conference comp. day and secretaries don't work conferences.
The nonsensicalness of this boggles the mind.
Here will be my day on Friday:

*phone rings*
"Hello? (pause) No, they're not in today."

Rinse and repeat. All. Day. Long.
ACTUALLY, no. That won't even be my day. Because the school is CLOSED, and no one will try to call because they will think to themselves, THE SCHOOL IS CLOSED.
This is what is even more mind-boggling to me, though.
Three, count them, three people, none of whom are my boss or higher up than me, upon finding out that I have to work, have said to me "Well, that's too bad. But, you know, if you have to be here, I can find something for you to do."
What possesses a person to say such a thing?
Yes, people. It's not enough that I have to work while you have the day off, please, PLEASE!, LET ME DO YOUR FREAKING WORK FOR YOU WHILE I'M HERE.
Moving along..

Favorite work story of the week: This girl comes into my office and says "The security guards took something away from me, where do I go to get it back?"
Me: "Depends, what was it?"
What do you think it was?
Dice.
The girl was playing dice in the hallway and betting and got it taken away.

You know what's funny? Saying "whatevs" instead of "whatever". What's not funny is when you say it so much that it actually becomes part of your vocabulary and slips out of your mouth in regular conversation and you hear yourself saying it and think "Wow. I sound retarded. I hope they don't think I seriously use that word."
Except I do use that word.
Whatevs. It's nobody's business anyways.

Have you forgotten what we were like then
when we were still first rate
and the day came fat with an apple in it's mouth

It's no use worrying about time
but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves
and turned some sharp corners

The whole pasture looked like our meal
we didn't need speedometers
we could manage cocktails out of ice and water

I wouldn't want to be faster
or greener than now if you were with me, O
you were the best of all my days.

Frank O'Hara.

My Dream Job and Voting=cookies

If I could do annnnnything in the whole wide world? I would write descriptive lines for talk shows and news programs, as well as headlines for newspapers. For instance, when Oprah has a guest and the little thing pops up and says

Candy Smith
Angry Housewife

Those things come out so freaking stupid, no matter what.
I would make them stupider.
I would make them COMPLETELY irrelevant. Mine would be like

Candy Smith
Wears too much eyeliner

Candy Smith
Has a lisp

Except, the show would be about world hunger or something.

I'm a heartless bitch.

I just saw this news headline on mlive.com-
The big story?
"Some voters don't care"
Wow. Earth-shattering news. Way to get to the big story.

Which brings me to my next topic, which is that I voted non-absentee for the first time ever. Voting is fun. There were cookies there.
I wasn't going to vote, but then I remembered "Vote or Die", and I didn't want to die, so..
Just kidding, I was always going to vote. But it was kind of cool. My polling location was a retirement home and all the the workers were volunteers from the home. Me and one of the workers discussed the vote-counting machine for a while. An all-around pleasant experience.
Remember, people. Voting=cookies.
Seriously, the sad state of affairs is that if that were the slogan, voting numbers would be up. Had I know ahead of time, I would have voted twice.

"I Wish You Could Put Popcorn On A Sandwich", And Other Deep Thoughts By Rob MacInnis

Saturday, we're in the park because I'm taking the engagement announcement photo for Ryan and Jen. We're snapping lovely pictures beside rocks and bridges.
And Rob is behind me.
Rob is behind me, chasing the geese, yelling, "Come back here, Goose! I've got a bone to pick with you!"

Yes, I'm Aware, But Nonetheless...

So, I go to Beaner's today cause I had a CRAPPY day and all I want is one of those Mega-Caffeine Espresso Drinks.
I'd like to start off this story by saying that I know it's rude to talk on your phone in the drive-thru, but this was special circumstances. I didn't recognize the phone number of the person calling me, and when I picked up it was the guy from Human Resources of this job I really want, so what am I going to do at that point, hang up?
So I'm in line and I answer and I'm talking to him and then the girl comes up to the window and I hand her the money. This girl starts talking to me at MEGAPHONE VOLUME as I'm trying to talk to HR guy.
Me: Oh, great, blah blah blah
Coffee Girl: OH MY GOD THAT IS SOOOOOOOOO CUTE!!! (about my phone? I don't know.)
I keep trying to mime to her, but she keeps talking at Super-human volumes, so loudly that the guy I'm talking to stops talking because he thinks it's me talking.
Uhh!
In other news, someone save me from my job.
Next weekend is Friend Thanksgiving and I just called Jen and we're going to make Pilgrim Hats.
It's nice that someone else I know is as ridiculous as me.

As Always, A Few Things..

Today I went to the eye doctor. As we all know, I somehow in my brain invent stories that then become memories and none of them actually happened. I swear to you that when I was 12, my eye doctor told my mom I had a growth in my eye, but that as long as it didn't get any bigger, it was fine. My mom says that never happened. She's like "Laura. Do you think that if someone told me there was a growth in your eye, I'd be okay with that?"
Good point.
But, I SWEAR it happened.
So today at the eye doctor I told him that there was a small possibility that, when I was twelve, I had a growth in my eye, but there was also a possibility that I made it all up. He decided to dialate my eyes, just to be sure.
The Good News is, there is no mass in my eye.
But the GREAT News is that I have super-human optic nerves!
My left optic nerve is TWICE THE SIZE of my right optic nerve and he said he's never seen anything like it. I told him that if he wanted to write a paper on me, I'd help him win the Nobel. He seemed less than interested. Also, I think he may have thought I was flirting with him, but believe me when I tell you that I was not.
The point is, people, I am...

THE EYE.

My tagline is going to be "You're getting on my nerve." And then I'm going to learn how to make my eye vibrate and freak people out.
Possibly my story could be adapted into an Oscar-winning movie tenatively titled "A Beautiful Eye."

Why Danny Is On My Good List

Last night, I had a dream that me, some other people, and the chihuahua I don't own were all standing next to a pool. Next thing I know, chihuahua jumps in. Whether or not chihuahuas can actually swim, I don't know, but my chihuahua was apparently still in need of water wings, cause he sank to the bottom like a freaking rock. It was the saddest thing ever, you could here him yelping underwater.
I was going to jump in and save him. But I don't like water. It's the whole 'can't breathe in it' thing. So I started yelling at everyone around me to jump in the water and save my chihuahua. Who jumped in? Danny jumped in. Cause Danny is friend to the chihuahuas.
Didn't I raise him so well?

Basically, What We're Saying Is "You've Been Warned"

Wax Lips

Today I got to thinking about wax lips. Do you remember those? There was a tiny little thing to bite on and then it looked like you had Mr. Potato Head lips. That's all fine and good. Except, we ate them. We ate wax.
Why did we eat wax? And we thought it was good.
No, scratch that.
We bought wax, and then we ate it.
We were some dumbass kids.
Now, Big League Chew, that was a WHOLE other story. Big League Chew remains, to this day, sweet. What was so awesome about big league chew was, there was no portion size. With gum, Bubble Yum, for example, you were restricted to the one piece, or you thought you were wasting your gum or being a pig. But Big League Chew, you could eat the whole freaking thing until your mouth was stuck open and, technically, it was basically still one piece.
Also sweet- candy cigarettes.

The Saddest of All Stories
I was told today that I could not have my chihuahua. Were you aware that chihuahuas only have a 4-hour bladder capacity and, therefore, cannot live with people who work for 8 hours a day? I was unaware.

All I Do On This Blog Is Bitch (and I love it...)

1st of all...
More than anything, more than punk-o kids and psycho parents, do you want to know what I hate about working in an office environment?
People are constantly laughing about things that are in absolutely no way funny.
It's like you work in an office and you automatically develop a tick where you laugh after everything you say.
For instance:
"Laura, do you have your walkie-talkie?"
"I already put it away."
" HAHAHA! I guess I should have checked first, eh? HAHAHAHAHA!"
"....yeah..."

or

"Hey, there are donuts up front. Better get yourself some donuts before they're gone, eh? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

EVERYONE DOES THIS.
I'm not talking about people who are trying to be funny, these weren't even supposed to be jokes.
It's like I'm working in a freaking psycho clown ward.
At first, I'd smile at them. Now I just stare.
At my SLC office job, people didn't laugh at things that weren't funny.

Today I officially became that lame adult I always knew I would be. I made a kid turn his shirt inside out.
How does a kid walk around a high school all day long in a shirt that says "Will Work Forehand Jobs" and no one catches on?

On an unrelated note-
Come on people. Stop messing with Aquaman

And lastly, please get out your list of words I hate and add "gossamer" and "pedagogy" to it and then strike them from your vocabulary forever.

Is It Any Wonder I'm Feeling Down In The Dumps?

Stories from The Mitten

1. I'm quitting my job and dedicating my life to this site.
Unrelated to The Mitten

2. Why are Jen and Lola so sad looking? Lola and Jen are looking sad because, in The Mitten, it snows in October. Great day for a 5K


















After the race, while we were waiting for Rob to pick us up, we met a limo driver who told us all about how they have a new process for cremation. They fill you with liquid nitrogen and then they put you on a vibrating table and you basically disintegrate. Just a little bit of friendly Saturday morning small talk.

3. Conversation I had today:
"Hey, Miss W., can you call somebody up for me?"
"Do you have a pass to be in here?"
"No."
"Go back to class."
"Aww, Miss W., can't I just kick it in here wit you?"
"No. Go kick it in class."

4. So I get this message the other day, and it's Sar telling me that she is telling someone The Carnie Story (yes, it's epic enough to be capitalized). Let me tell you The Carnie Story.

It all starts on Jenn's 19th birthday. If you're not from The Mitten, than you're probably unaware that Canada and the 19-year-old drinking age is a mere 45 minutes away. So, for Jenn's bday she wants to go to Canada. We go.
As a public service announcement, I would like to note that we had a designated driver.
I cannot tell you this portion of the story because it's inappropriate. Not because of anything I did, just inappropriate in general. Suffice it to say, we went to this nasty bar. Vomitous. We went to a vomitous bar. And, something happened to my eye so that the entire way home it was watering uncontrollably. We were a hot mess, collectively.

A week later, between Sara and I, we somehow decide we should go to the summer carnival. So we go, I'm a disaster, I'm wearing my glasses because something is clearly wrong with my eye. If you've never seen me in my glasses, just think magnifying glass. Anyhow, we're walking around and Sara sees this guy and she says "Why do I know that guy?"
I don't know this guy.
Eventually, she can't stand it anymore and she goes up to him and says "Why do I know you?"
He doesn't know her, but they get to talking.
Where do you think she saw this guy?
Just guess. Abandon all reason and guess.
This guy was in that nast-o club the week before. Yes, we have now run into a guy from a Canadian club at the Davison carnival.
But, this guy is from the other side of the state, what is he doing in rinky-dink Davison?
He's a pseudo-carnie.
He travels from carnival to carnival, blowing up the moonwalk and then taking it down.
And Carnie's got the hots for Sara, baby.
Carnie says to Sar "Hey, you guys want to go get something to eat?"
Now don't let the collectivity of 'you guys' fool you. I am only being invited because it's clear that Sara and her crazy bug-eyed friend happen to be traveling together. Perhaps he thinks it's some type of Big Brothers/Big Sisters thing.
I ask you, what does Sara, my best friend for ever and ever say?
Sara says yes.
We are going out for dinner with carnies.
We go to Archies.
Sara and Carnie McCarno chat it up.
I sit there and burn holes in newspaper with my glasses.
At the end, Carnie buys Sara's dinner.
I buy my own dinner.
Because Carnie don't love me.

Sara, to this day, has not adequately repaid me for the amazing feat of stick-by-you friendship displayed that night.
It's okay, Sar. Sometimes words just can't say how much you care. You know what would say "I love you" though? One of those giant Scooby-Doos from the ring toss. And maybe and airbrushed shirt.

5. And, lastly. My feeling is that Francine Prose has an unfair advantage at writing because her name means writing. It's like saying "Writing is my middle name", only your serious. There's a Spanish teacher at my school who's last name is French, and last time I went in there, the kids were pretty loud and weren't really listening. My feeling is that this is because she should actually be teaching French, and that's what happens when you fight destiny. Considering all of this, I'm looking to marry someone with the last name "Worksalldayforalotofmoneysomywifecanhangoutandreadandwrite".

A Few Ways to Waste Your Time Funly (What? Like You're Webster Now? Who Says It's Not A Word?)

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/21StephenThompson.html

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/6JefferyS.Taylor.html

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/6SalomTeshale.html

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/openletters/1facebook.html

Kitchen Talk

1. You know what's the worst? Drinking out of a dirty glass, but you don't realize it's a dirty glass until you've drank most of whatever was in your glass and you're low enough that when you tip it, you can see the sides and you say to yourself "Cool. What's all that crap on the side of my glass? Wonder what I just drank." Here's my theory on that. I think the reason that I never get sick is because I'm a complete dirtball and I've ingested so many germs that my body is immune to everything. Wish you were me now, eh?

2. We have no pots or pans. Long story, they got left in NY because we wrecked them all by using a scrubby on a non-scrubby friendly surface. We now have (1) sauce pan (very VERY small sauce pan), (1) medium-smallish boiling pot and (1) small skillet. And one lid.
Buuuutttt.. I refuse to buy new pans. Not because we can't afford it. I refuse to buy them because you know you are old and boring when you use your hard-earned money to buy pots and pans. Have you seen how much a set of pans/pots costs?!?! Like $200!
So my big plan was, let's ask Rob's parents for pots and pans for Christmas. Specifically Rob's parents because I'm still 10 and want only fun, non-practical gifts from my own parents. Then I realized the fatal flaw in my plan. Rob's parents bought us that whole set of pots that we ruined. Here's how that conversation will go:
Them: "So what do you guys want for Christmas?"
Us: "Well, we could really use some new pots and pans."
Them: "Oh. Didn't we get you a whole set for your wedding?"
Us: "...um..........no?..."

That's fine. Who needs pots and pans anyways?
Mom and Dad: Don't you dare get me pots and pans for Christmas. I will cry, right there and then, on Christmas morning. Santa Claus doesn't bring pots and pans.

Im Puzzled by Puzzles

Sorry, I had to. Here's what I'd like to know. Who exactly is responsible for picking out the pictures that get made into puzzles? Because I want to have them fired. Rob and I decided it would be fun to do a puzzle, so I go to the store in seach of one. Here are my puzzle choices:
*Flowers.
*Psychadelic dolphins, Lisa Frank style
*Kissing puppies. Someone please tell me what is so cute about kissing puppies.
*Various gardening and pastoral scenes, most of them involving a trowel in some capacity
*Buttons. Cause you can never have enough pictures of buttons lying around.
*Freaky Fairies
*Thomas Kincaid "Painter of Light". This is a whole other blog that deserves it's own time and attention. Calling yourself "Painter of Light".... not normal.
*Puzz 3-D. Want to know what I think about Puzz 3-D? Puzz 3-D is right up there with kissing puppies. Puzz 3D is legos for the unimaginative. I know what you're thinking, you're thinking "Geez, Laura is being a little hard on Puzz 3D." I'm here to bring it to you straight, people, not to play around with the niceities.

So I ended up with a gigantic butterfly, who's only saving grace is that it's not actually a butterfly, it's a million little photgraphs that together make up a gigantic butterfly. It's a start.

Today, Rob comes home and says to me "You know what song I really like? That 'Lonely Spider' song by Death Cab for Cutie"
I say "I've never heard this song"
Rob says "Google it"
So I google it.
Know what the real words are?
Not "Lonely Spider". It's "Soul Meets Body"
But really, isn't the world waiting for someone to write a song about a lonely spider? None of that itsy bitsy crap, thank you.

Sometimes, I feel like a rap star because Rob and I drink champagne on Tuesday nights. Now, granted, the bottle of champagne cost less than $10. But, still, I feel like a baller.

What exactly is a baller? Does it involve basketball in any way? Is it like a player? Regardless, I am one. You know how it goes. After the show it's the after party. After the party it's the hotel lobby. After the Belvedere it's probably Crist (that's 'Christal' for all you non-ballers out there). And after the original it's probably this.

That reminds me of a story. A few weeks ago, crazy secretary was doing the ID pictures at school and she gets this kid up there and in this crazy fake-o voice she says "SMILE!". The kid flashes this big smile and he's wearing a grill. It was hiLARious.

My favorite part of that Wikipedia entry is this:
Dentists have issued warnings notifying people who are wearing grills of the serious damage they can cause including gum infections, irritations, and cavities. Prolonged wearing of grills allows food and bacteria to become trapped underneath. In addition, though expensive grills such as those made from gold or platinum are cited as being "bio-compatible" (and thus are presumably non-allergenic), cheaper grills made from non-precious metals like nickel can cause allergic reactions. It is estimated that "one out of every seven people have a metal allergy" according to Dr. Matt Messina, consumer advisor of the American Dental Association. [1]

4 out of 5 dentists do NOT recommend grills.

Today, I checked my messages at work for the first time in 2 weeks. There were 179 messages. I figured I would never catch up, so I just erased them all so I can start over tomorrow.

Crazy secretary was being a be-ah at work today. I smiled at her. Then I cursed all of her future generations.

I'm applying for a new job. Even though there's no indication that I'll get it, I still kind of feel like a double agent at work.
Thought process:
"Laura, we should set up a calendar for reserving the career center"
Okay, I'll do that now, but I won't be here long enough to use it!
"Oh, hi, you're the new secretary?"
For now. But don't get used to me.

Again, no indication whatsoever, but whatever keeps me going, you know?
Time now to do some writing and make good on the $40,000 I spent.

Dude. Rob and Jon are like... famous. :)

























Race for the Cure. I took this photo myself. (Why does it always look like I've got a bum eye in pictures? If I have a bum eye, someone should say something.)

Status Report

Time: 8:15pm
Time left to do my WebCt response for class: 3 hours, 45 minutes
Articles left to read: 5
Articles read: 0
Currently working on: my christmas list
Scale of 1-10, how much I hate my job: 7 with a chance of 9
Times I was told I was locin' today: 2
Classes left to take before I can teach college english and creative writing and never have to work at a high school again: 1
Number of articles left to read for that class: 5
Time left to read them: 3 hours, 37 minutes


Other Items of Note:
1. I love my google calendar. Do you have a google calendar? If you're an organization freak, you will love google calendar as much as me. Get it. Got it? Good.

2. Let's be serious. My living room is so. cute.
The problem is, I'm never home to enjoy my living room. I'm posting a picture of it here so you can enjoy it, and maybe I can make it the background on my computer at work and enjoy it from afar.

























3. Amount of money raised for our Race for the Cure on Saturday- $1635.00
Fundraising superstars. My dad will try to tell you it's all his doing, but don't listen to a word of that nonsense.

4. Hi Sara! How's it going? I keep meaning to call you this week. I could call you right now. But there's that small matter of the five articles. I will call you tomorrow. Hope your week is going fine- how was NY?

5. Happy Birthday Joe :)




















6. A few pictures from our housewarming party (just prior to when the big bald guy came and threatend our lives)





































7. (p.s. were you aware that 3 and 7 are my lucky numbers? They are.) This is the day Rob got his new speakers. I feel it's safe to say that if our house was burning down and Rob only had time to save one thing/person, I had better get myself out.

More Fun With Crazy People

Just when I thought I had reached my fun quotient for the week with puppet seminar lady yesterday.. in comes Conspiracy Theory Mom.

First thing she says to me when she walks into the office:
"Why do the students have a bar code on their ID's but staff doesn't?"
"Well, students have them so we can pull up their information quickly"
"Well, what about your information?"
"Uhhh..."

ID's. Just a small part of the communist regime of the public school system. Damn you! We don't need no education! You're just a brick in the wall!
Seriously, though, the truth is we're storing all the students thoughts on those bar codes, so we can easily access any thought crimes they may have committed.

Other manipulations afoot right there under my very nose (how could I not have noticed?):
"Are you really okay with the way schools are brainwashing kids?"
"You know those surveys they have the kids take with the ACT tests? They ask kids about their sexual orientation and then the teachers and administration read it. A teacher told me."
"I don't even want my kids going here. It's like a communist country in here. How many security guards do you have out there?"

What's funny is, if anything ever happened to her kid in school, she'd be like "Where was the security?? Why wasn't anyone there??"

Fight the power.

P.S. Highly recommended: The Last Kiss Soundtrack. Get it, I'll wait.


Do you have it yet?
What's taking so long?

P.P.S. I don't like Fiona Apple. But, I like her more than I like 'Fergie', whom I can't stand. If I was on Road Rules Challenge, I'd choose Fiona Apple over Fergie. Here's my ideal Road Rules/Real World Challenge Team

My team:
Me
Zach Braff
Erin and Danny
Lorenzo Lamas (seriously, people, he's a bounty hunter)
The Incredible Hulk
Dale Ernhardt Jr. (his fireproof gear may come in handy)
J.D. Salinger (shut up.)
John Basedow
Shakira

VS.

Gwen Stefani and Fergie Ferg

Bring it.

Awesome New Word I Learned This Week

Locin' (verb). To go crazy or freak out on someone (I think).
As in:
"Damn, Miss W.! I was just askin' a question, why you locin'?"

Now, why can't I make up words? It's like, if I went around trying to say that, people would be like "who are you kidding?" But some people, they make up a word and for some reason it sounds like it was always a word.
It's not fair. It's bunk. It's wack.
I can't even pull off words that are already words.

Gusto

I am not a master of the conversation. With people I know, whatever, it's no problem. But with people I don't know, I somehow always end up saying the exact wrong thing. Take for example, last week when I was doing staff ID pictures-

Person says to me: "Okay, now, I want to look thin and pretty in my picture"
What I say to them: "Everyone keeps asking for that, that's a lot of pressure"
What I meant: God knows. It was the first thing that came to mind.
What it sounded like: "You're fat and ugly."

Person says to me: "Try to make me not look pregnant in my picture"
What I say to them: "But you are pregnant." (WHY, GOD! WHY?!)
What I meant: She was pregnant. What do you want from me?
What it sounded like: "You look fat."

Or today, for instance:

Person says to me: "I need to pick up a student"
What I say to them: "Are you her grandmother?"
"No, I'm her mother"
What it sounded like: "You look old."

The point of all this is, I tell you what, I had a few minutes of pure genius conversationality this evening talking to the guy behind the counter at the coffee shop. It was like I was so on. I didn't call anyone fat or ugly. Coffee shop guy thought I was so funny. For a few minutes tonight, I wanted to be my own friend.
Here's how the conversation would have gone, had I decided to be my own friend:
Cool me: "Hey can I have a chai?"
Regular me: "Do you want that with skim?"
Cool me: "Nah."
Regular me: "Are you sure, whole milk is really bad for you. Oh, and by the way, you're fat and ugly. Let's just get that out of the way, cause at some point during the conversation. I'm going to unintentionally hint at it."
Cool me: "Cool."

As a side note, a student went into labor in my office today.

Hidden Proof That I Am Actually Superhuman

Hidden Trait: I can turn on the shower and pick things up with my toes
Superhuman power: Superhuman strength

Hidden Trait: I've never been pulled over by the 5-0
Superhuman power: I am actually invisible

Hidden Trait: I never remember things the way they actually happen
Superhuman power: I can read people's minds and I'm acutally remembering their memories

Hidden Trait: I can't run faster than a 10-minute mile
Superhuman power: My body is actually made of lead, ideal for stopping people in their non-superhuman tracks

Hidden Trait: I know before I open the fridge that Rob has taken the last Diet Coke and left the empty box inside
Superhuman power: X-Ray vision

Hidden Trait: I don't kill Rob for doing the above stated
Superhuman power: Superhuman self-control

Hidden Trait: I can beat Joe at Clue, anytime, anyplace- BRING IT.
Superhuman power: Superhuman criminal sensory skills

Hidden Trait: I can write an entire blog about being a superhero
Superhuman power: Superhuman time-wasting capabilities

Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

Want to know what one of my biggest regrets of all time is? It's pretty tame, but it bugs me nonetheless.
Not paying attention in college.
I graduated with a good GPA and all, but I totally coasted by. There is WAY MORE I could have learned, and now that I'm old and bored of guys and parties and whatever else it was I did for 5 years, I sit around thinking about how much stuff I could have learned if I had paid the slightest bit of attention to the $20,000 worth of undergraduate education I received.
Now I WANT to be in the damn classes and I can't AFFORD them any more.
DAMN YOU! This is why I should have joined the Peace Corp or something like that before I came to college.

Rob and I just got in a big fight about irony, because he's teaching his kids about irony tomorrow and he and I don't think irony are the same thing. In my opinion:

Not irony, just really bad luck: Ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife.
Irony: Walking in to a knife factory and finding ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife.

Possibly irony, but I'm not really sure: A no smoking sign on your cigarette break

And lastly, what my BFF J.D. has to say about Holden-
"The boy himself is at once too simple and too complex for us to make any final comment about him or his story. Perhaps the safest thing we can say about Holden is that he was born in the world not just strongly attracted to beauty but, almost, hopelessly impaled on it."
I'm gonna find J.D. and we're gonna get a cabin out in the woods together and roast marshmallows and hang.
Wouldn't that be ironic?
No. No, it wouldn't.

It's About Time To Post Again, But I've Got Nothing To Post About

(1) Today was the first day of school
Time the doors opened: 7am
Time the first fight broke out: 7:09am

Way to exercise that self-control, guys.

(2) Overheard in Meijer:

Girl 1: Ooh! Want to make guacamole?
Girl 2: Yeah! But, I've already got the mix at home, all we need is guacamolies.

Finally, Laura Weighs In On All The Important Issues of Today

1. Justin Timberlake's New Song
Justin. You are not bringing sexy back. That song is terrible. And I even have a little soft spot for Justin. What it kind of reminds me of is when we used to listen to tapes and then they'd get caught and stretched out in the tape player.
Laura Gives It A : Not so much, try again.

2. Noodles and Company
Yum! Totally good and totally cheap. I myself had the Indonesian Peanut Saute. A little more fiery than I expected but, again, really good.
Laura Gives It A: You're the Bomb Diggity.

3. Walgreen's and Others:
I'm writing to my state representative, once I find out who that is, and I'm asking them to write a new law. This law will state: You can not build two locations of the exact same store within 5 miles of each other. They've been working on this new site where they tore down a house and I was interested to see what it would be. Walgreen's. There's a bleeping Walgreens 2 miles down the road. STOP IT.
Laura Gives It A: You're fired. And I hate you.

4. This Lady Who Works In My Office (But not crazy secretary)
Today at 12:15pm this lady comes down and says "Laura, would you be interested in going to this training session this afternoon to learn about the new immunization laws?"
First of all, it seems to me that if I actually had to sit through that training session, I would poke my eyeballs out with the needles out of sheer mind-torturing bordem.
Second of all, the training started at 1. It was 12:15. And it went a half hour later than I get out of work. So I tell her that I can't because I have appointments right after I get out at three. And she seems all put out.
Two Things, Hanna Montana-
1. Here's an idea. Tell me about it slightly earlier than 45 minutes before it starts.
2. Get real.
Laura Gives It A: I'd Rather Get 20 Tetanus Shots. In my ear.

5. Getting the Newspaper Delivered
I like getting the newspaper. It's very.. informative.
Laura Gives It A: Keep it coming.

I AM... MAAATHHH GIRLLLL!
(Defender of decimals, protector of precentages.. you get the idea)

Have I made a bad decision by choosing to live so close to campus? Sitting outside, I have heard the following things so far tonight:
1. A bunch of guys screaming obnoxiously for about a 1/2 hour now
2. The soccer team that lives below my saying "Oh we are so drinking tonight"

Really, I've got nothing against college kids, especially seeing as most of them are only about 2 years younger than me, but do they need to be so stinking loud all the time? Oh well, it will get cold in about 2 months and every one will be holed up in their apartments.

Speaking of neighbors..
Last night, we're leaving for Rob's show, and as we're walking out the door the couple who live across the hall from us come running up the stairs. So Rob says to them, sarcastically, "Hey, guys, come on. There's no running in the building."
Response from them: nothing.
Not a smile, not a eyeroll, not a 'what the hell' look.
We've introduced ourselves to this couple before, so it's not like they don't know who the heck we are.
Granted, it wasn't a very funny joke, but nonetheless, COMPLETELY BLANK FACES, and then they walk in their apartment.
Rob and I are like "What the hell was that?"

I'm building myself an Ikea desk. I'm picking out everything, the kind of top and bottom and all the storage and whatnot. It's going to be BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT!

Back to work tomorrow...buuuuttttt..I've got Friday off.

p.s. I won the Crim. Erin came in second. I think it may be because we rubbed my mom's fuzzy little head for good luck. Is your mom cuter than my mom? Answer: Not a chance.

p.p.s. "So this is a Haavad baaa? I thought there would be equations and shit on the waaals." Best movie ever made, don't even try and fight with me.

Laura Has 2 Glasses of Wine and Writes A Blog

Thoughts Thought During My Second Day At My New Job, A Selection:
"Maybe I should just sleep in"
"Why can't everyone just wear jeans to work?"
"Is this lady kidding me?"
"Maybe I have a text message"
"How the F does this copy machine work?"
"I'll kill myself if they don't fix my internet"
"Is this lady kidding me?"
"4 more hours"
"Someday, I'll be a genius, and not making copies"
"Wine sounds good"
"Is this lady kidding me?"

Needless to say, one of the secretaries is crazy. Certifiably. She's been there for 14 years and apparently she's a bit of a control freak. I get this email from her when I get into work, and I look at the time it was sent. 5:53. We don't have to be to work until 7. So I go over and show the cool secretary, and she informs me that crazy secretary comes into work between 4:30 and 5am everyday. For no apparent reason.
Crraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzy.
Also, Crazy Secretary won't let us throw anything away. There are ink cartridges and printer ribbon from machines that don't even EXIST anymore, and she won't let us throw them away.
Dear Crazy Secretary,
I know the 80's are coming back in fashion, but the trend doesn't apply to office technology.
Love, Laura

Question I most asked myself today:
"Laura. Why the crap didn't you take the job at Sarah Lawrence?"
Answer: Because it was in New York.
I didn't want to stay in New York. I'm glad I didn't. But at the same time... that would have been the freaking SWEETEST job.
Oh well.

Rob got a job. He's teaching high school writing. We got furniture today. Yay us!

Playlists

My Running Supermix
1. Mr. Brightside- The Killers
2. Walkaway- Kelly Clarkson
3. Shame On You- Indigo Girls
4. Only The Good Die Young- Billy Joel
5. Golddigger- Kanye West
6. My Doorbell- White Stripes

My Favorite Songs of All Time Mix

1. Time Will Do the Talking- Patty Griffin
2. Wish You Were Here- Pink Floyd
3. One- U2
4. Strange Currencies- REM

To be edited, but I'm going to bed now.

P.S. I'm employed. Gainfully, even.

p.s. I heart writing.

A Post of Substance

Just kidding. Let's be serious, this blog is completely substance-free. This blog is so substance-free it's straight edge.
Now, on to the nonsense...

1. Today I had to kill some time before my interview, so I stopped at the new Beaner's on Westnedge.
Laura's Tip For Life #1: Beware the establishment on it's first day of existance.
This place was like happy customer service on steroids.
First, I walk in and the owner is standing right there and he's like "HELLO! WELCOME TO BEANERS! THIS IS OUR GRAND OPENING!"
me: hi.
Then the girl rings me in and then I go down to pick up my drink and the drink guy is standing there, smiling this freaky smile and he's like "Hello and welcome to Beaners. Have you joined our e-rewards program?" He then proceeds to go through all the details of the e-rewards program with me.
Then, I go to sit down and the manager follows me back to my seat. He's like "Is the sun okay for you? I know it's really sunny there. I'm not sure what to do. Maybe I'll get some shades."
Me: Yeah, it's not so bad. Shades would work.

THEN The manager comes over and he's like "So! What did you get today?"
Me: A MochaChill
Him: "And how is that?"
We then proceed to have a 5 minute conversation about whether or not the MochaChill has enough espresso in it.

Just as I'm about to leave, the owner comes back over and we talk for another 3 minutes about the sun and shades vs. no shades.

It's like, I know they're trying to be really nice and customer servicey, but all those people smiling at me and striking up bizarre conversations made me feel like I was in a room full of serial killers.

2. Running the Crim on Saturday. Erin better step up her training or I'm going to leave her in the dust. That's right, Erin, I'm talking to you. I've got the need for speed. Get to running.

3. Anyone know a good tailor in Kalamazoo? My pants are too long. As a rule.

4. Rob took his test and got A+ certified today. He's a super-genius.

5. We got new phones. And text messaging. And text messaging with pictures. Dangerous. I'm obsessed. As I am with anything that allows me to waste my life away frivilously.

6. Today I borrowed Sar's car for a few hours and she had Tristan Prettyman playing on her CD player. You should check out her page, because she's very good.

Fall, fall, fall! Fall is almost here!

Things about fall that rock my world-
1. leaves
2. nice smelling fall smell
3. sweatshirts
4. football games (not so much going to them but.. you know)
5. pumpkins
6. going to John's cider mill

Things that are currently rocking my world-
1. my porch
2. being in Kzoo, playing Scattergories and drinking too much wine (no names mentioned)
3. The dog Rob and I are about to get. It's a chihuahua. But not a little skinny-freaky chihuahua. A pudgy chihuahua. And what have we named him? We have named him Frankenstein. Our dog is named Frankenstein.
4. Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger
5. The White Stripes
6. The Spinach-Feta Burger

Things that are currently not rocking my world
1. Being a bartender (although, to my credit, I'm a mean mojito-making mamajama)
2. Beaners MochaChill. Starbucks Frappucino. Anything that isn't a Brainfreeze.

When I was growing up, I had this friend Brian, and sometimes his mom would misspell his name in cards and things, so it said "Love, Brain"

Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret

What happened to all the commenters? It's a lot more fun when people comment. Get on it people, this is not a one-sided relationship. This is like, when you were in college and you had to do group work, and there would always be one person who didn't do or say anything, but their name still went on the project.
Don't be that person, people.
Here's the topic:
If you had to pick your own theme song to start playing everytime you entered a room, what would it be?
Discuss.

p.s. Mine is "Pour Some Sugar On Me"

Mullets for a Cause

Through the miracle of computers, we have been able to simulate what my sister would look like with a mullet.
And it's for a good cause.
You know you want to be a part of this.
Winther Race For A Cure Fundraising Page

Deep Down, I'm Still In Fifth Grade

I really like this wine, we served it at Food Dance when I worked there. The problem is, it's called sex. See, can't even type it.
So I go into Tiffany's and I look around for it, but I can't find it, but I know they have it, because Tiffany's has everything. If you made moonshine in your backyard they would probably carry it. So, I suck it up and ask. I say-
"Do you have any of the Mawby wines from Traverse City?"
(note: why it sounds like I think I'm a wine snob here, the only reason I even know the company name is because I sold it at Food Dance. End note)
They guy says "I've got a couple. Which one are you looking for?"
Yes, boys and girls, I am 25 and I can't say 'sex'.
I say "Umm... I don't know.. I just wanted to look at them."
Pathetic, Laura! Pathetic!
It is now painfully obvious that I want the Sex, but can't say it.
What's funny is, when we sold it at Food Dance, I had no problem with it. I had to walk up to tables and say "Tonight on special, we have Sex."
But I can't say it to this man.
Because this man looks like Flanders from the Simpsons.
Okaley, Dokaley, Neighbor, I'll take the Sex.
Anyhow, so he finds it, and he says "Oh, looks like we have the Us, or the Sex"
So I grab the Sex and I say
UhyeahthatlooksfineI'lltakethat,thanks.
Should you even be allowed to drink if you can't say sex?
In other news I am semi-employed.
I am waitressing.
I am only okay with this because I have been guaranteed a teaching job for next semester and because a journal wants one of my stories.
Which makes me feel like not as much of a loser waitress with a Master's degree and 60,000 in student loans.
The restaurant is really cool though, it's Cosmo's, which is tiny and cute and kitchy, and directly across from the disaster of an apartment that Rob and I used to live in in the student ghetto that I miss TERRIBLY.
TERRIBLY. Don't get me wrong, our new apartment is nice. But I will take a rundown little apartment in the cute old historic neighborhoods over the nice stuff anyday. Good God, that place was such a piece of crap you couldn't open the oven door all the way because it would hit the refridgerator. And the ceiling bowed about a foot in the middle. And I would buy it in a second.
If I weren't a waitress.
Anyways, I'm going to be a bartender. And I get to wear whatever I want to work.
And I'm trying to be positive.
Because what the hell don't I have to be positive about? I TYPE 70 F-ING WORDS A MINUTE, DAMNIT! TODAY, MICROSOFT OFFICE. TOMORROW? THE WORLD!!!
p.s. My sister has forbid me to say f-ing anymore. She tells me I sound like a trucker. She says "I've got your silk-screened jacket for you, whenever you want it."
But I feel it was warranted in this situation.

Memo
To: L. Winther
Re: How Cool Are You?

Guess how many words I can type per minute? 70.
I have to keep a fire extinguisher next to my keyboard.
That's how cool I am.

Reason I Suspect I Am Actually No Fun

Tonight Rob and I went to see the new Will Ferrell movie (not going to lie to you.. it was kind of a disappointment...), and at the end, after their Nascar race, to celebrate, the winning team opens the bottle of champagne and sprays it everywhere.
What everyone else is thinking: Hooray! They won!
What I'm thinking: Ahhh! Stop that! Now everyone's going to be all disgusting and sticky! And then you're going to have to clean all that champagne off of everything!

I'm going to go ahead and blame this one on Gordita and The Min. I think that, had I not been raised to clean up all my own messes, I would be able to enjoy this type of thing. But now, all I can think about is what a pain in the ass it would be to clean up. Other things in movies that have this same affect on me:
1. Pies in the face (which, as a side note, are not funny anyways. Ever.)
2. Food fights
3. Scenes in movies like Cheaper By the Dozen and Yours, Mine and Ours where all the kids make a gigantic mess of the house.
4. Football movies where the players dump the Gatorade/water over the coach's head

And most of all...
Nothing septic-related is EVER FUNNY. DO NOT HAVE PEOPLE GET SEPTIC-IZED.

Don't Feed the Animals

Last week Rob and I got a gym membership back at the gym we went to before we moved, which I really like. Except, the gym has gone "BodyPump" crazy.
First, I'd like to this opportunity to say the word "pump" more, because Sara hates it so much.
Pump up the jam! Pump it up! While your feet are thump-in'!
And the jam is pump-in'!
Look ahead the crowd is jump-in'!
Anyhow.
So I go to BodyPump this morning, which is basically just a class where you do weight training for an hour. All is going well until we get to biceps.
Do you know what the instructor refers to working your biceps as?
Feeding the pythons.
As in, "Come on, girls, it's time to feed the pythons."
When she said it, I threw up in my mouth a little.
Okay, not really.
But I definately did not keep a straight face.
It takes a lot to say something like that and take yourself seriously. And so I applaud you, BodyPump girl. You feed those pythons.
Later on, Rob and I were helping Sara move and I went to pick something up and it was too heavy so I told Rob to move it.
Rob says "Oh, looks like the pythons must still be hungry."
To which I say "HEY! I MAKE THE SARCASTIC COMMENTS AROUND HERE, BUDDY!"

A Few Bones To Pick...

I spent a good hour yesterday typing out this great short story that I wanted everyone to read, but then all the sudden I got worried that it was copyright infringement and I would be sued by someone, so I took it down.
So.
Everyone read "Drawer" by Rick Moody. It's 2 pages long. I'll expect a book report.

Bone to pick #1- Western... What the crap?

Today I needed to print something out. And god knows that I'm too cheap to buy a printer, so I went on campus to print it. Years ago, back in my day, there used to be this fantastic lawn between Waldo Library and Knauss Hall (that's "Knaw-s". Not "Ka-Nouse". Say Ka-Nouse and I'll punch you.) where you could go and lay out and read between classes. Now, where the lawn used to be, there is a GIGANTIC new chemistry building. Seriously. Screw chemistry. Give me the flipping lawn back. I don't even like chemistry. I'll meet your chemistry building and raise you a lawn. That didn't make any sense, but I wanted to say it anyways.

Bone to pick #2- Sure, someday maybe I'll be well paid. But for now, please let me answer your phones
Today my job hunt took a decidedly bad turn. I took my MFA off of my resume. Why? Because no one wants to hire me. They think that if you have a Masters degree you should be able to find a well-paying job. Well, they're wrong. And so now, in order to get any job whatsoever and not starve to death, I have to lie.
Michigan, you are so lucky you are the state of Great Lakes, Great Times, because otherwise, I would abandon you so fast and go somewhere where they actually hire people. How can I do such things when a Pleasant Peninsula Awaits Me? I cannot, I cannot. Once again, Michigan, you have me wrapped around you're little mitten.

There will be more bones to pick, but right now I'm going to bed.

It.
Is.
Hot.

F-ing Hot.

Moving on.

Lately Oprah is making me feel activist-y. Today she had Bill and Melinda Gates, who were talking about how our schools are in sad, sad shape and how we're going to be in big trouble in ten years, when nobody knows anything anymore. Here's their website

Speaking of activisty things, my family is running a 5K to raise money for breast cancer research. You can sponsor us, here's our site. If we meet our goal, Erin has agreed to let us cut her hair into a mullett.

Rob+Morphine= Best Friends Forever

So we went to the emergency room last night because it turns out that Rob has gallstones. That's not funny, though. What's funny is seeing Rob on meds. Because you get a little bit of medication in Rob and all the sudden he's acting like that drunk guy you find slouched over in the back of a frat party and start messing with. First, the nurse gives him something for nausea right into his I.V.
You can tell the instant it gets in his blood stream.
Rob: Is my head getting bigger? My head feels really big.
(read: Issss my HEAD ge-ing bigger? My HEAD feels really big.)
Nurse: Um.. no, your head looks pretty proportional to your body.
Rob: ....are you calling me fat?
Nurse: No, no! Your head looks fine.
Rob: Cause I'm not fat. I'm big boned.

Later, after they've given him morphine, they doctor comes in and wants to talk to him.
(2 side notes-
1. Seriously. The doctor was HOT. Sorry. Inappropriate to this story.)
2. Who gives someone Morphine and then wants
to talk?)
Rob took to the morphine REAAALLLY well.
So the doctor comes in and earlier we'd told the nurse that Rob's mom had had a heart attack a few years earlier, but apparently they misunderstood. So he comes in and says to Rob-
"So, I hear your mom died at a really young age."
I'm totally trying to let Rob answer him because I don't want to be that person who answers all the questions for the patient.
My mistake.
Rob says: "Yeah..."
Okay, Rob's mom is so not dead.
Then the doctor is like "Do you know what caused her heart attack? Was it high blood pressure?"
Rob says: "Yeeaahhhh.. shees really trying to work on that.."
Okay, at this point I have to step in and be like
"Um.. his mom's not dead."
Then the doctor's all embarrassed.
And Rob's fast asleep...

Confession: I heart Hall & Oates. Intensely.
Celebrity I would marry: Zach Braff.
Celebrity I would not marry: Colin Farrell.
Names I would not name a male child: Keith or Trevor.
Name I would name a male child: Keegan.
Name Rob will not name a male child: Keegan.
Things I am seriously not considering, despite evidence to the contrary: Marrying celebrities and having children.

The Secret World of Donkeys

Today I was on Petfinder.com again, pretending like I can afford a dog. There was a section for barnyard animals, so I thought I'd go and see what they had. Do you know they have rescue shelters for donkeys? They've got all kinds of rescued donkeys and horses on there. I also found this group called the Turning Pointe Donkey Rescue, and this is their mission statement-

Who We Are
Turning Pointe Donkey Rescue is operated by volunteers who are
committed to Donkeys and giving them a second chance, a
Turning Pointe, in their lives.

Turning Pointe Donkey Rescue became a reality in October 2004 when
an enthusiastic group of people got together and decided that many
nice donkeys were unwanted, unappreciated and often found
themselves in the meat pen at an auction.


We are a Michigan based non profit organization dedicated to the health
and welfare of miniature, standard and mammoth donkeys.

Some thoughts on that (and I am seriously not making fun of the donkey rescue people)-
1. Aside from petting zoos, have I ever even seen a donkey in Michigan?
2. Is there a donkey overpopulation problem?
3. I wonder what a mammoth donkey looks like.

And so, in light of this new information, I have decided to adopt a donkey instead of a jack russell.

Here's my question for you, though. Why are donkeys funny? When I read Turning Pointe Donkey Rescue is operated by volunteers who are committed to Donkeys and giving them a second chance, it makes me laugh. But if you put 'cat' in place of 'donkey', it wouldn't be funny.
Why?

Chew on that one, my friends, chew on that one.

My Awesome New Place and The Birds

Let's talk about my new apartment.
It.
Is.
Sweet.
Maybe two years or so ago, I wouldn't have been so impressed with it. But in my post-NY life, where I have just spent a year coughing up $900/mo. to live in a basement (Basement apt., no offense, I loved you but you weren't exactly.. luxurious), I feel like I have hit the freaking jackpot here.
My new apartment has...
1. A washer and dryer
2. A dishwasher
3. A HUMUNGO deck
4. A flipping FIREPLACE
5. Lots o'room
6. Parking right outside my door
7. Vaulted ceilings
8. Large, wonderful windows

My new apartment does not have...
1. crazy insomniac children living upstairs
2. the creepy serial killer mailman
3. evil people who put threatening notes on my car
4. Batboy living upstairs

And what's CRAZY about the whole thing is I'm paying 25% less!
Yay Michigan!

Speaking of the new apartment, I was looking for cool things to decorate it with, and I came across these birds.

What, you say, are these birds? These birds are gigantic colorforms! And you can put them up on your wall in a migratory formation of your choosing!
It's BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT!!!

Here's the part where everyone rains on my parade.
Rob: "Laura. Those look like something you see at the dentist's office"
Min: Eye Roll. Min wouldn't even waste a sarcastic comment on my birds.
OH YEAH? OH YEAH? YOU DON'T LIKE MY BIRDS?? EVER SEEN THAT MOVIE THE BIRDS? THAT'S YOU, ROB! YOU'RE GOING TO WAKE UP AND LOOK AT THE CEILING AND THERE'RE GOING TO BE 100 COLORFORM BIRDS STARING DOWN AT YOU.

jerk.

Blissfest!