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."
Thursday, October 26, 2006
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?
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?
Monday, October 23, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
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".
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".
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
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
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.
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.
Monday, October 09, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
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.
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.
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