YARRRGH!

I didn't miss it this year!! Tomorrow is Talk Like A Pirate Day!!! I'm now coming up with ways that I can incorporate this into my classes tomorrow. I've been looking for a way to get rid of that very last shred of professional dignity and I think this is it.

(1) My brain works like a computer.
653-0047- Know what that is? My best friend from kindergarten's phone number. But here's the thing; I only remember it because I never updated it, as in, she never got a new phone number while we were still hanging out. If she had, I would only remember the last phone number she had.
I'm sure this is really intruiging, but I've got to move on people.

(2) Is 'kindergarten' a German word? Say it with a German accent. It sounds German to me.
Mini? My mom's like a human Rosetta Stone. I'm going to start calling her Rosetta. Maybe Rosy. She'll love that.

(3) I'm going to see Jamaica Kincaid tonight. She's a genius, maybe she'll be able to make me a genius with her genius advice.

(4) Papers I promised to return tomorrow: 10 read, 9 to go. Which would be good if I wasn't driving up to GR to see Jamaica Kincaid in about 10 seconds.

(5) My life, in minature:
Me: Rob, you left the sliding door open again
Rob: Well the ninjas have to get in some how
Me: Rob, there are no ninjas here
Rob:... Laura... don't piss them off...
Which would be funny if, the next night, he had remembered to close the sliding door when we went to bed. Not the case. I swear to you, if it happens again, there had damn well better be a ninja dozing on my couch or I'm going to fist fight Rob. And everyone knows he cries like a little girl.

(6) Heroes. One week from yesterday. Feel the power.

My inbox is drowning in emails. And none of them mention money, a high-pay low-effort job, or the desire to publish any of my stories.
On the upside, none of them mention Cialis either.

On Movies

(1) Balls of Fury.
Not really that funny. Joe was totally right when he said that all of the movies are the exact same now. What's with all of the sudden the whole "find an obscure or somewhat ridiculous sport and make it into a comedy movie" thing? Here's an example or 10:
Balls of Fury
Dodgeball
Blades of Glory
Talladega Nights

Get a new idea, people.

The one funny part was that the evil guy had a pet panda. But it was dead. Because the guy didn't know what it ate. That's right- ridiculous sports? Not funny. Dead endangered species? Funny. Please try to keep up.

(2) About some previews...

(a) Umm... have you seen the preview for the second National Treasure movie? Let's move right past the fact that the first National Treasure movie was a piece of ridiculous crap and onto this new one which is called "Book of Secrets". Yeaaaahhh.. turns out that there's a "President's Book of Secrets", which details all of the secret undercover stuff by previous presidents, such as the inside assassinations and stuff. Wow. Killer plot, guys. Is there are a heart-shaped lock on the President's Book of Secrets? Is it hidden underneath the President's mattress?
So, what do you do if you need to see the book and uncover a historical scandal?? Why, you kidnap the president to get it, of course!
STOP. WASTING. CELLULOID.
STOP PROLONGING NICOLAS CAGE'S CAREER.
In creative writing, every professor on earth tells their students to read things out loud to themselves, to hear what it sounds like. Clearly, no one read this plot outloud. Or when they were sober.

(b) I also saw a preview for Resident Evil: Apocolypse. I've never seen any of these and really have no opinion one way or another, though I know I personally would hate them. But the plot reminds me a little of the 28 days later/28 years later/28 decades later/whatever thing, which is to say: Last 20 or so people on Earth, everyone else is a zombie/vampire, have to defend themselves every waking moment.
This got me to thinking. Really. If there are only 20 or so of you left in the world, and the Earth is ruined... what are you holding out for? I'm not going to lie to you, at that point, I'd just go ahead and throw in the towel and call it a day. Is there some reason in particular that you are so adamant about continuing to live your miserable, day to day existance of living in a wasteland, fighting off zombies and watching your friends die? Go ahead and get the big Zombie kiss of death and call it quits. Clearly, there's a reason that the fate of the human race is not resting in my hands. The only thing that would change my mind about this scenario is if I, by some miracle, had access to the Presidents Book of Secrets. Everyone knows that zombies were created by the government, which means that the Presidents Book of Secrets would have the antidote to zombieism in it, and then I would turn all of my loved ones back into people.

(3) Superbad
Not as funny as I was hoping.

Hells Yeah Sea Fugitives!
You think we're going to take it anymore? You think we're gonna stand by why you eat all our fellow homosapiens? YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING!
What do we want? No more sea creature maimings!
When do we want it? Now!
And who brought you this story first, folks. That's right, lolalou.com

I just ran into Stuart Dybek at the coffee shop. Should that be more surreal than it is? As I was talking to him, I pulled the anthology I'm using in my creative writing class out of my bag and realized that one of his stories is in it. He was wearing a Franz Kafka shirt.

I like Water Street a lot, but the music is too damn loud. All the time. Also, a lot of time it's that spoken word with music in the background stuff. I'm just not that hip.

What is the name of the treaty that the US signed after World War II saying that, if there were to be another genocide like the Holocaust, we were required to step in and stop it? So far, in mentioning it to my classes, I have called it the Warsaw Pact (which it is not) and the Geneva Convention (which was... a convention, it turns out, and not a treaty of any kind). Hopefully, they are paying as little attention as they appear to be paying, and won't have even noticed.

Apparently, Ugly Is The New Fall Fashion

I'd like to talk about one of the many things that bugs me. Namely, trying to buy new clothes. What the heck is up with the new styles for fall?! They are U-G-L-Y. On Saturday, Erin Indiana and I were in Urban Outfitters. Granted, that store is always a little outside the realm of day-to-day streetwear stuff, but there are always some cute things in there. No. Do you know what they had in there? Vests. Listen, I lived through the 80s. I don't wear vests. I'm all uglyed-out. Also? Tapered jeans with zippers at the bottoms. Tapered jeans don't look good on anyone. You could weigh 98 pounds and you would still have badunka-dunk butt in tapered jeans.
But it's not just Urban Outfitters. The other day I was out to Buy Clothes, which means, "Screw it! My clothes are all old and boring! I'm buying a new wardrobe!" I walked out of Old Navy with one $10 shirt.
There are two explanations for this-
1. Everything truly is ugly.
2. I'm getting old.
For a while, I thought it was number 2, but then I saw the vests and I was off the hook.

I'd also like to discuss Audio Books.
I've been listening to a lot of them on my morning commute. Little known fact: People who do the reading on audio books? Intolerable. They ruin the whole story. Right now I'm listening to The History of Love by Nicole Krauss, which is SO GOOD, except for the fact that whoever is reading the 15 year old girl character totally misinterpreted her and made her obnoxious when she's supposed to be just kind of quirky.
It is a struggle just to keep listening.
These are the things I struggle with on a daily basis, people. But your donations can help. For just the price of a iced skim vanilla latte, you can make a difference.

Way in which I'm being a be-ah this week:
I just don't know if we're going to be getting along so well with our new neighbors. Reason being that, out of nowhere last night they start BLASTING AC/DC so loud that our walls start shaking and Penny starts freaking out. It sounded roughly like this:
"THUN-DA!! THUN-DA!! Bark! Bark! What the fu? THUN-DA!! BAAAARRRKKK!!! Squeak! (Mr. Frogowitz) THUNDA!"
They'll be none of that. Rob went over and knocked on the door, expecting a couple of college kids and... they're approximately 30. Seriously, people? He says to Rob, "Oh.. sorry Bro."
Yeah.. Bro.
As we were leaving we hear a guy and a girl running in the hall, giggling and chasing one another.
Awesome. I looked up the number for Public Safety. Seriously, don't think I won't.

This week my students are going to learn the following thing:
When it is appropriate to say 'good' and when they should actually be saying 'well' instead.
They will not be learning the proper placement of a semi-colon, unless they learn it from someone else. If they do, I hope that they'll be kind enough to pass that information along to me.

It is unacceptable to bring food- and by food I don't mean pretzels. I mean a full lunch; sandwich, orange, banana, etc- and eat it during a seminar when other people are trapped in the room, about to go out of their minds from the sound of your chewing and the yucky banana-smell of your banana. It is unacceptable. You may eat before seminars, and you may eat after seminars. If there is a break in the seminar, you are welcome to go into the hallway and enjoy your bananas.
There are no exceptions.

Less is More, Theoretically. In Actuality, Though, More is Definately More.

I'm going to start a petition to have cologne registered as a weapon or regulated as a controlled substance. It is entirely possible to asphxiate someone by wearing too much. I'm learning that as we speak. And I'm outside. This is a serious case.

The Al Gore Game

Rob and I are always trying to come up with ways to harrass each other and generally make the other person seethe. So the other day we watched "An Inconvenient Truth", which was depressing and end-of-the-worldy and all, so we thought, we recycle and all, but we should recycle.. more.. or something. Anyways, what ended up happening was this:
I walk into a room and Rob left the fan on. So I say:
"Hey, Rob"
"Yeah, Laura"
"Al Gore called. He wants to know why you're leaving the fan on and making the world cry. Maybe you left it on to dry it's tears?"

Or

"Hey Rob, I'm going to go to Old Navy"
"You're going to drive over to Old Navy?"
"Yeah"
"Okay. Call Al Gore on the way and explain to him why you don't care about your children's future, would you?"

"You make Al Gore cry" is pretty much a regular part of our conversations now.
I highly recommmend this game. It's a family-friendly way to save the earth while completely getting the better of your spouse.

Rock, Paper, This Guy Is My Soulmate (sorry Rob, you're cool too!)

It's best if I never meet this guy, I feel as if we would get along a little too well.

Then again, Rob did call me rabbit face.

Commence Lameness.

It looks as if we've all finally graduated from college. In two weekends, the power duos of Ryan/Jen and Joe/Erin will be relocating from the Kzoo area to areas an hour or so away. You may (or may not) recall that Rob and I were also attempting to relocate but, due to job locations, we appear to be staying for at least another year.
This is sad. What about game nights? What about Girls' Night Thursdays? What about Gallaghers Fridays, Harvey's Tuesdays and Lost Night Wednesdays? Okay, in all fairness, we only did Lost Night Wednesdays a few times. But nonetheless.
There are good things about moving, (clearly, or Rob and I wouldn't be trying to do it, too), and I am particularly happy for Joe/Erin who now not only get to finally live in the same state, but get to get out of Kzoo as well. But this is the part where we all have to make actual effort to get together rather than "Hey, meet me at OP in 10 minutes."
Now what am I supposed to do? Work? Watch TV? Join a Master Gardening class?
I am selfish, but I am selfish with genuine love.

Could you be! The most byoo-tiful girl(s) in the world!

Always classy, you'll notice the 24-karat Tiffany's hairtie around my wrist. It looks as if it's supposed to be there because it's the same color as my dress, but really, it's a 10 cent Goody hairtie. Further proof that you can take the girl out of Rite Aid, but you can't take the Rite Aid out of the girl.

Also, this reminds me of this conversation the other day:

Me: Rob, I don't have a rabbit-y face, do I?
Rob: ... A little bit, honey.

Note to those wishing to stay married, please don't follow Rob's example.

Contest Upset! Ryan Disqualified! FAKES?! PLAYING WHILE GROUNDED?!

In a surprising turn of events, Ryan was disqualified in the mascot contest.
We here at Lolalou.com are sad to throw the character of Ryan into scrutiny by revealing that some have called into question the authenticity of Ryan's pictures.
In an effort to assist Ryan and prove his innocence, I asked him to identify the names of the cheerleaders he is shown with in the pictures.
Ryan made a half-hearted (slightly pathetic) attempt to answer below is the transcript of our conversation.
Me: Ryan, some believe that the cheerleader photograph was a stock image. Please prove them wrong, by reciting for us their names.
Ryan: Um.. Brittany, Tiffany... Stephanie?
Me: What about the rest of them?
Ryan: They're all named Brittany, Tiffany or Stephanie.

That seemed somewhat logical to me, so I came back him with the allegations of a noticeable 'glow' around him in some of the pictures which opponents claim is the work of Photoshop.
Ryan then claimed to be, and I quote "an angel".
Ryan: Yeah, it's just always kind of been there. I guess I'm blessed.

But Ryan wasn't blessed, apparently, as I later received an anonymous tip from his father-in-law, Mr. Rick D., that Ryan was actually grounded during the time that those pictures were supposedly taken, by Rick himself.

For shame, Ryan.

And so, the new co-winners are Mr. Gordita "I've got a thing for people in bird costumes" W., and Ms. Rebecca "Does the drunk guy downtown count as a mascot?" H.

Finally, the rightful people have been rewarded. Let's all take a moment and hope that Ryan "The Fallen Angel" T. has learned a lesson about fair play.

I think, in the end, it's better that I didn't end up with Adam Duritz. In high school, I had really the biggest crush possible on him. And I really still like his music. But really, don't you think it would be depressing to date him? Also, confusing.
Like this:
Me: So, what do you want to do?
Adam: I wanna be a lion.
Me: What?
Adam: Everybody wanna pass as cats. We all wanna be big big stars.
Me:....whatever. I'm playing Dr. Mario.

I really turned out to be a lot less melodramatic than I thought I would be.

P.S. I still think he's cute though. Not sure what that's all about. I'd say I have bad taste in guys, but then Rob would read it and be like, What the hell is that supposed to mean?

P.P.S. Plus, it turns out he's actually 43. 43 tomorrow, actually, according to Wikipedia. Who knew? That gives him a good couple of decades on me. I feel that using the babysitter rule of dating is advisable. The rule is this: Could he have been your babysitter? Yes? Then it's creepy.

And the Winner Is..........

RYAN COMES OUT OF NOWHERE AND STEALS THE CONTEST!!!!!

Good game, everyone.
In the end, Ryan is just the better man.

So.

1. I added something new to the side- Today's Pet Peeve. I feel as if I have so many of them, they deserve a separate column. Then, to balance out how much of a Negative Nancy I am, I added a list of my favorite things. I'm not sure if it will work though, because I don't know how to archive them.

2. I'm a professor! I'm a professor! I'm a professor!

3. Finally.

4. I'm wearing my professor glasses.

5. I haven't gotten the photos from the contest up yet or declared the winner, which is lame considering it's been a week and a half. I'm working on it. But I'm at work now, so I can't. Tonight. Maybe.

6. I finally finished the last Harry Potter last night. It was excellent. Best so far. Read it.

7. I have a problem with the restaurant Chicken Coop. True, I have never eaten there. Regardless, why would you name a restaurant Chicken Coop? Have you ever been in a chicken coop? It reeks. Why would you want to (a) eat in a chicken coop, (b) eat anywhere associated with a chicken coop?

8. Tuesday is my last day at this job. On Wednesday I am going to the beach, alone, and I'm going to sit there all day long. It's going to be so sweet.

8. Saturday is the last day of the blueberry season, according to LeDuc's. I haven't gotten enough blueberries yet!!!

Just Added to My List of People Who Haunt My Nightmares: Yummy-In-The-Tummy Lady!

Today I went to Sam's and there was a lady handing out free samples of this pulled pork sandwich meat. Then a little kid walked up to her to get a sample and she says to him "Yummy in the tummy!"
I thought to myself, "My, that was an unfortunate thing to say."
But people say a lot of dumb stuff to kids. She was probably just saying it because he's a kid.
No.
Everyone who walked up to her got "Yummy in the tummy!"
I circled the freezers with my cart a few times to observe.
Not once did she say, "This is pulled pork sandwich meat."
Not once did she say, "Would you like to try a sample?"
Then she started saying it to anyone who walked by.
I told Rob about it and I was laughing, but he just got this uneasy look on his face, which is how I felt about it exactly. We both decided it was a terrifying thing to say.
And then she chased me through frozen foods with an ax yelling "Yummy in the tummy!!"
Totally true.

On another note, I'm listening to a book on tape at work, and it's very good and very entertaining while I'm sitting here bored out of my mind. Except that we're to a sex scene now. It is very embarrassing to listen to book-on-tape sex scene at work. Because you know that my boss is going to be walking down the hall and hear, "And then.. he cupped her breast." Not cool. But I can't fast forward through it or I won't know what's going on.

And then Rebecca says, "Hey, Lola, I bought this new shirt, but I can't wear it, because it makes me feel like a whore. So I thought you might want it.

And I ask you, what is that supposed to mean?

Yeah, This Is How I Feel About 4th of July
Though I had a great time at the BBQ...













Perhaps you haven't met... FIRECRACKER FISTS MACINNIS!!!!

And Doesn't That Just Say It All?

I bought a book on dog training and Penny chewed it up.

2 of Many Reasons I'm Actually Too Dumb to be a Receptionist

(1) Sometimes, when I'm on the phone and at my computer, the recording on the phone will say "Press 2 for Blabity Blah", and then I'll press the 2 on my keyboard instead of on my phone and it takes me quite a while to figure out why nothing is happening. This happens more often than I'd like to admit.

(2) When I have to dial a number like "1-800-4-Sallie", I'll get to the "S", and I'm so used to texting that I'll hit the "7" three times to get the "S", like you would in texting. My phone numbers end up being 2,000 digits long.

Man, I'm almost sick of being right about this whole sea/water creatures trying to kill us all thing.

Know what's nast? When you drink wine on the deck and all kinds of bugs die in your glass and then you have to fish them out with a spoon. Not that I do that. Ever.
It would be best if you didn't mention how many diseases bugs carry, because then I would look up the symptoms of those diseases and decide I have all of them. Which, actually, is a disease I caught from Sar.

My new story is choice. Which is a word that the Irish boys used a lot. It's possible I was born to live in Ireland. Where they have cool words like 'choice', instead of 'sweet', which I'm tired of. Also, they say "Your man" instead of "That guy", as in "Your man J.D. Salinger is choice".
Everything in Ireland is better.

I stole this picture from Jackie's blog. I think it's cute. I also think that this is right before we stuffed 10 house keys into our dresses. Sure, I could explain that. But it's more fun not to.

More to Come About the Wedding

But for now, here are Mr. and Mrs. Ryan and Jennifer

I would like you to read this article from my favorite hometown newspaper, The Davison Index. Now that you've read it, disregard most of the story. What I want to go back to is this little section:

When the children achieved the goal, we gave them a "reward" of an all-school picnic and a hot-air balloon ride for the principal and some of us in the PTO, lifting right off the playground.

Sooo... the reward for the kids was watching you take a hot air balloon ride? While they stayed on the ground? It must have been hard to contain themselves.
I'm glad I'm not at your house on Christmas morning.

Yet Another Reason I Didn't Last as an Aerobics Instructor

Yesterday, my bodypump instructor says, and I quote:
"Man, I had to drive eight hours last night, I didn't get home till three in the morning! So, you know, I was stopping every half hour stuffing my face with candy. No, I'm kidding, I didn't. But I did buy pretzels (hangs head in shame). I couldn't help myself."

Hold up. You're feeling bad because you ate pretzels? I congratulate myself for making the healthy choice when I get pretzels. Pllllease be serious. Working at a gym was lame because no one ever wanted to go out for ice cream afterwards.

I've Been Lame...

But here's the catch-up post.

1. Jen's Bachelorette Party.
I went through the pictures and there aren't a lot that I can actually put on here, because I was sworn to secrecy. Seriously, I was. I signed something.
Here are a few that aren't incriminating.




































































2. Rob's Bday party
A cake fight. Naturally.















This is a picture of Rob dancing. I put this in here because Rob claims that I dance like Daphne from Scooby Doo. I think it's pretty clear from this picture who belongs in the Mystery Machine.




















3. Father's Day/Erin's Bday.
Erin loves cake.

















Chloe, my parents new puppy. Oh, and Bad Danny.




















5. Penny in a Hawaiian Shirt.



















6. How to Cheat At Scrabble and Rob Doesn't Even Notice

Two Life Lessons, One Better Said Than The Other (But Both of Equal Importance)

(1) This is nice. It's by Barbara Kingsolver.
“The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for.
And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a
distance but live right in it, under its roof. What I want is so simple I
almost can’t say it: elementary kindness. Enough to eat, enough to go
around. The possibility that kids might one day grow up to be neither the
destroyers nor the destroyed. That’s about it…”
(from Animal Dreams)

(2) And from my own personal wisdom:
I don't know about you, but I wear workout pants to bed. They're comfortable. Tonight I took Penny outside around 8. I was writing out on my deck, so I was already in my pjs. I was also wearing a shirt that said "When you're Irish, it's hard to sing with an empty glass." And I ran into my massage therapist. I would estimate that my massage therapist is approximately a size 00. When she's bloated. She and her well-defined boyfriend were out walking their sporty dog. She was looking effortlessly cute in some little shorts.
I won't lie to you, it didn't make me feel good.
My life lesson to you, friends, is try not to be wearing spandex when you run into people who are a size 00.
Penny did nip at her dog, which just furthered my belief that Penny and I are soul mates.

P.S. Curious what my favorite Billy Joel song is?
It's "Only the Good Die Young"
Erin's is "Keepin the Faith"
Please let me know what yours is, via the comments

Part of the definition of addict, I think, is that you need it so bad that you come up with tons of crazy ways to get it. I've started feeling guilty about buying so many lattes, so here is how I've paid for my lattes this week, without actually using my bank account.

Sunday- Used a frequent buyer punch card.
Monday- Asked the girl at another place if they had a frequent buyer punch card. She said "No, but we give out these from time to time instead" and gave me a card for a Free Large Drink. Remembered her face so I could ask the same question to someone else and get another free card
Tuesday- Took back the bottles
Wednesday- Stole $5 from Rob.
I'm eyeing my piggy bank for the rest of the week, but I can't find a grocery store with one of those Coinstar machines and I'm not desperate enough to roll it myself yet.

Rob said no to an espresso machine. He's only hurting himself.

Penny had her first day of Obedience School today. We're going to need a 504 plan.

Aw, look at my avatar, she's going to Prom! You look so beautiful, avatar, you're going to have the time of your life! Ha. Just kidding. You're going to drink bad punch and dance to "Here and Now". You do look nice, though.

Sara and I went and saw Knocked Up the other night. I thought it was going to be cute but pretty predictable, but it was actually really REALLY good. I highly recommend it.

I Wish Writing These Was My Job

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/25B.DavinStengel.html
But it's not.
I particularly like "I Wanna Name A Park After U"

T.M.I.

More about the half-marathon (my best run EVER) and Memorial Day Camping later. First, this.
Here's a website where you can find out the #1 Billboard song on the day you were born. Or.. on the approximate date of your conception.
Right now Erin's throwing up on herself. Everyone else proceed.
So it turns out that on my approximate conception date Another Brick in the Wall was the #1 song.
The truth comes out.
From this information, I can only conclude that I'm a 60's kickback lovechild, conceived under the influence on an orange velvet couch.
Erin, I looked up your conception song for you, since I know you wont. It's "Boogie Oogie Oogie". I don't think my comments on that are really even necessary.

Save the Cheerleader, Save the World!!!

Awesome!! It's the first real Hero!!

If You Don't Know, Now You Know.

A comma splice occurs when two independent clauses are joined by a comma with no conjunction. For example:

It is nearly half past five, we cannot reach town before dark.

It is usually considered an error, especially in American English, where it is condemned in The Elements of Style.

Simply removing the comma does not correct the error, but results in a run-on sentence. There are several acceptable ways to correct this:

* Change the comma to a semicolon:

It is nearly half past five; we cannot reach town before dark.

* Write the two clauses as two separate sentences:

It is nearly half past five. We cannot reach town before dark.

* Insert a coordinating conjunction following the comma:

It is nearly half past five, and we cannot reach town before dark.
It is nearly half past five, so we cannot reach town before dark.

* Make one clause dependent on the other:

As it is nearly half past five, we cannot reach town before dark.

Comma splices are sometimes acceptable when the clauses are short and alike in form, such as:

The gate swung apart, the bridge fell, the portcullis was drawn up.

(Examples adapted from the online 1918 edition of The Elements of Style.)

I'm just letting you know this so you won't be embarrassed, should someone ever ask you. Or, if, say, you apply to teach composition at a college and you get an email back that says "I have to tell you, I really loved your essay, despite the comma splices."
And, say, if you not only have comma splices, but you don't really even know what a comma splice is.
God help me.
I'm supposed to be in English.
The thing is, I don't have time for all the rules, people. Blah, blah, blah, add a conjuction, add a semi-colon. I've got stories to write!! I've got to write a story about a guy who has to burn a tick out of his son's skin! We're lighting matches and describing campsites and imagining tense relationships, and we sure as hell are not ruining our sentences with too many ands!!

Honestly, though, he was really nice and he said he'd forward my application to anyone he could think of that might be able to use me.
Splice that!

Once Again, We Here At Lolalou.com Ask, "What Is the World Coming To?"

This is what's keeping me up at night lately:
"Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne.
Okay, so it's catchy.
I cannot reconcile the fact that someone wrote a lyric like "She's like so whatever" and is making millions of dollars off of it. MILLIONS OF DOLLARS.
And it's not just a lyric, it's the freaking reprise.
I don't even get that lyric. Where do the commas go?
Is it, "She's like, 'So, whatever'", like the 'girlfriend' is saying it?
Or is it, "She's like so whatever", like 'whatever' is a put down?

Listen, I'm not trying to act like I'm Shakespeare here, but I feel like I write things a bit shinier, a bit more insightful than that and I am not getting paid anything.
Maybe it's cause I'm not the m.f.ing princess.

Want to know what pisses me off? Of course you do, that's why you're here, right? I want a house. I am sick of living in a tiny little apartment and paying rent that goes nowhere.
There are all these beee-Yoo-tiful historic houses downtown that are totally in my price range. Too bad the only reason that they're in my price range is that they are one or all of the following:
(1) Former student rental houses that have been treated like crap and rundown
(2) Not a rental but in a student neighborhood
(3) In a drug neighborhood.

Cool guys, thanks for that. Why do they do that? Why don't they take the shite-y little ranch houses and turn them into student housing and leave the historical houses alone. On the other hand, it's kind of a moot (?) point, because if they hadn't been run down, they would be WAY out of my price range and I wouldn't even be having this conversation. Still though, I'd rather have them still be nice and out of my price range than in it and crap-o.

Rebecca Takes the Lead and My Dad Enters the Contest























I can't add them to the counter yet because I'm not a computer genius like Robkabob.

Andrew!! You're going to have to send the picture to me because I canceled my Facebook account and can't see it. I really want it though, so send it to me!!!

Supplies and Demands

Today I looked Dragon Lady straight in the face and laughed. It was mean. And well deserved.
I had to order some damn binder clips and staplers. Even saying that makes me depressed. I don't want to be the type of person who looks through a catalog and fills out a requisition for staplers. But, alas, here I am. Anyways, I had loaned out my supply order book to a parapro whom I couldn't get ahold of. The only other person with a supply catalog is Dragon Lady. So I go to her office and say "Can I borrow your supply book for a second? I loaned mine out."
She looks me dead in the eye and says "My supply catalog doesn't leave my office."
I couldn't help it.
I laughed out loud, there and then.
I'm glad I'm not the type of person who has a personal philosophy about my supply catalog. I wish I didn't even have a supply catalog.

I cannot WAIT to go camping next weekend. I'm running my second 1/2 Marathon on Saturday morning and then Rob is coming up and meeting me and we're going to Traverse City State Park for the weekend. I am going swimming, I am making s'mores, and I am kicking Rob's ass at Scrabble. This will be Penny's first camping trip. All signs point to her being a total camping dog.

My Car Runs on Vanilla Iced Lattes

Do you know what gas is up to? $3.50 a gallon. This is also the price of a tall iced vanilla skim latte at Beaners. So, essentially, my car runs on lattes. My car and I have something in common, seeing as I also run on Iced Vanilla Lattes. Filling up my car this morning, I was really angry about it. I can't afford my own latte habit, much less my car's. And so I said to my car, "Screw that, car", and I only put $9.75 in gas in the car, which was luckily enough to get me to Beaners, where I bought myself a latte.

My dog can read. Every time we go downstairs she stops at the landing that's (dog)eye-level with the building bulletin board. Probably she's looking for a new owner. Or she's considering that 98' Geo Tracker for $1249. Either way, if she thinks I don't notice she's nuts. She's also nuts if she's really thinking about buying that Tracker, cause those cars are death traps.

I'm going to stop posting about my dog soon, I swear. This week for sure.

First and Then Second

First of all, here are some pictures from Ryan & Rebecca's bday party last night and Mother's Day today...




























































My mom is the only one who looks cute in this picture, but I guess it is her day...

Second. I about wet my pants when I read this to Rob yesterday. This is a letter to Dear Abby in the newspaper yesterday. It's funny enough that I'm willing to retype the entire thing here. Half of you will think it's hilarious and half will think I'm a big bitch for thinking it's funny. And, you know, you're both right...

Dear Abby:
Next to your column in today's newspaper was an article about a coming fad. It's camouflage clothing for young children. In part, it read, "The juxtaposition of the rough and rugged with the soft babyness is what gives the look its ying-yang charm. Kids in camo are, quite simply, adorable." As a retired 30-year veteran of law enforcement, I don't think it's adorable. I view it as a dangerous fad for children. During my many years of service in law enforcement, I participated in dozens of searches for lost children.
Abby, every year thousands of children are lost in this country. Some are found in a few hours, some in a few days, but others are never found. If you put just 2 or 3 percent of the children vacationing in the mountains, parks and wilderness areas of this and other countries in camouflage outfits, you will see even more tragedy because these lost children can't be seen. Lost children are hard enough to find when they are wearing red and orange outfits. If you dress a child in a camouflage outfit, she or he could be missed from 20 feet.
Please discourage parents from using these outfits- especially if they are traveling in the countryside or any other out-of-the-way place.
Sincerely,
Law Enforcement Veteran

Want to get rid of your kids? Throw them in the woods in camo. It's just that easy. Which reminds me of the time that my mom bought me that camo shirt in high school. I'm on to you, mom. Happy Mother's Day indeed.

I'm taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River line...

Want to see my pictures from NY?
Oh, right, I didn't take any.
Again.
Loser.

Here is the truth: My dog is the best dog ever.
Besides the fact that she's adorable she's superpowered.
Explain this to me: My dog is 1 foot tall, tops. Probably less. The baby gate we use to keep her in the kitchen or bathroom when we're gone is roughly three feet tall. So please explain to me why I keep coming home and finding her out of the kitchen or bathroom, sitting leisurely on top of my laundry.
Because my dog is SpiderDog, that's why.
You know she is either scaling the walls or using her webs to swing out of there.
For a while I was worried she was going to be one of those boring, well-mannered dogs. This is a huge relief.

Happy Mother's Day Mini!

CONTEST! CONTEST! CONTEST!
The first ever Lolalou.com contest.

The contest is "Who can find the most mascots/dressed up people/wierd statues/whatever to take their pictures with and then send them to me to post" contest.

For instance, if you happen to see a guy dressed up like a taco on the side of the road, you should pull over and get your picture taken with him. Or, for instance, there's a gigantic statue of a chicken on the way to my Nana's house which I should have gotten my picture taken with by now.

The only rule is that you have to be in the picture.

The prize is dinner. I will take the person who has the most mascot pictures out to dinner. Don't get excited, I won't take you anywhere nice. Probably Chili's or something. And you can't order a steak. But you can have a drink.

Rob's going to make me a score board and a special photo album for the contest.

I was going to give you some examples, but I can't find the memory card they're on.
You get the point though-
1. Find someone dressed like a taco.
2. Get your picture taken with them.
3. Email it to me.

I am COMPLETELY serious about this, so get on it.

I'm getting a foot tattoo, that's all there is to it.
I should disable comments on this post.

Don't even get me started on the day I had.
Dont. Even. Get me STARTED.
Plus, my dog has pneumonia.
And that was actually the least traumatizing thing today.

Once, we were at a karaoke bar with some friends. I got Rob to agree to let me pick out a song for him to get up and sing. So eventually they call him and he gets up there and he has the microphone in his hand and it turns out that I picked "Man, I feel like a woman" by Shania Twain. On a scale of 1-10, 10 being hilarity, I would estimate Rob's amusement at this situation as about a 3.

Today I ran a half marathon.
It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my whole entire life.
I didn't run it fast, but I finished it and that's all that counts, right?
My biggest accomplishment, however, is that I ran 9 entire miles before I had to stop at all.

I was looking at the website for the campground Rob and I are staying at over Memorial Day Weekend to see if it was okay for Penny to be there. It's a really nice campground, but I have a problem with the fact that the whole freaking campground is wireless internet enabled. Are you kidding me?!?! It's camping! There's no internet in camping!!
Please. When we camped, we camped like troopers. There was sand in the tent and we had to wash all the dishes in a little bin and there were disgusting bugs in the bathroom stalls. Clearly that was the good old days of camping.

In other news, my dog spends 23 of the 24 hours in a day puking.

Penny Estelle







































Here's our new dog Penny. I think that she's part Jack Russell, part Beagle, but I have no real dog-spertise, so that could be a total lie.
Equally as fun as having Penny in the house is watching Rob with Penny, such as this afternoon when I found him on all fours in the kitchen with Penny, 'demonstrating' where her food dish was. Maybe I would be the one to buy her a dog outfit, but Rob would be the one to put her in a stroller and take her for a walk. He'll deny it, but he's a total pushover for the dog.
Penny doesn't make any noise, including any barks. We haven't heard her bark yet. I think Ursula may have stolen her voice. Poor unfortunate soul.

P.S. Did my avatar get a boob job without asking me?!?

Two Stories, both alike in dignity...

Get it? GET IT?
Oh god, that was so geeky.

Here are two stories I thought about while running.

(1) You know how on CSI everything is a clue? Like, for instance, the 2cm shard of glass will lead you to the abandoned car with the blood of the killer? Right. CSI would never crack my case, because I do too many stupid, illogical things.
For instance, today when I went running, I didn't have any pockets so I couldn't bring my house key, but I had to lock the house, which I can't do except from the outside. So, I took my keys, locked the door and then locked them in my car.
Probably, had I been killed while running, they would have noticed my keys missing when they investigated my apartment. Then they would be on the key trail, they would think it's a clue, and when they found them in my car, they would be like "Why did she put them in the car? Was she leaving them for someone? Was she afraid someone would break into the apartment?"
When really, I probably just got hit by a car and none of that was any clue whatsoever.
Which reminds me, I totally saw a high speed car chase today! It was sweet

(2) Story number 2 is about Running Man, the man, the mystery, the enigma. Running man is a little like the penguin in Billy Madison and a little like the good angel/conscience on your shoulder thing.
Today, I'm a half mile from my house and I am so proud of myself because I have been lazy lately, but here I am 6.5 miles into a really hilly run. And I see The Hill coming. A half mile from my house is the biggest hill known to man. You could fall over backwards walking up it.
Okay, that's a lie.
But, it's BIG.
So I see it and I say to myself, "Laura. You have done so well today. You don't have to do The Hill. Take a break, walk the last half mile."
And there, coming down the side street, is Running Man.
Running Man is a Kalamazoo staple.
He is everywhere, everyday, and he is always, always running. Dude has been around since I was a freshman at Western, running like there's no tomorrow. Rain, Snow, Sleet, Earthquake, Running Man is running.
Running man is also approximately 65 years old and puts me to shame in every respect.
Does Running Man, turning off the side street, start walking up the hill?
Hells no, Running Man starts trucking it up The Hill.
DAMN YOU, RUNNING MAN! WHY MUST YOU ALWAYS PUT ME TO SHAME???
Like I'm going to start walking when running man, old enough to be my grandfather is booking it?
So I start running up the hill.
Yeah, that doesn't last.
WHO ARE YOU, RUNNING MAN? Where do you live? Do you have a job that doesn't involve running? Don't you ever get tired??
Just when I'm about to give up, you show up and push me just a little farther.
Come on, Laura, you can do it! I'm 65 and I do it with a smile! Run, Laura, Run!
I made it half way.
And so now I ask you:
Running Man. Guardian Angel? Manifestation of my conscience? or Arch Nemesis?

Revenge Of the Sea Creatures

Is this not the second or third story about a sea creature attacking a person in the last few months? I am telling you, the sea creatures are hatching a plan to kill us all. This is probably how the dinosaurs went. Bewaaaaarrreee the sea creatures.

Dude

Do you remember in elementary school when you'd say 'dude' and then another kid would be like "Do you know what a dude is? It's a hair on an elephant's butt!".

That is so stupid. Like someone would really spend the time to come up with a name for a hair on an elephant's butt? Why wouldn't they just say "elephant butt hair"?

I am here to tell you that there is no record of "dude" meaning that, according to my ultimate source of knowledge, Wikipedia.

Of course, I'm not sure why I really take that seriously at all, considering "shut up" was also supposed to mean "meet me in bed in five minutes."

... it doesn't mean that, right?

Please.

When at your local self-service beverage restaurant, please do not turn down buying a pop, get a glass for water and then fill the water glass with pop. It makes you look horribly cheap when you are, in fact, probably a nice person.

I Don't Get Into YouTube So Much, But... This Is Funny.

Plus, you know I feel the same way about Zach Braff.

The Wave and The Sixties

Update: Today, I saw my fox friend fishing for the first time. I'm glad he's branching out and trying new things. Although, he continues to eat all of his meals alone, despite the hungry tortise who lives across the pond from him, whom, I believe, would make an excellent dinner companion.

I am here today to talk about the wave. Not that retarded thing you do at sporting events. The Wave, as in, someone slows down and stops or holds back traffic in order to let you go.
Listen up. You always, ALWAYS, under ALL CIRCUMSTANCES, give someone the wave when they have performed such a monumental act of traffic kindness on your behalf. You don't just go, you ass. When you do that, when you go without so much as a wave, it makes me want to take it back. I sit and my car and yell at you (though you can't hear me) "NO PROBLEM, BUDDY, DON'T MENTION IT!" And then, next time, when I see someone waiting to go, I remember your non-wave, and I don't stop.
You, non-wavers, are single-handedly making the world a nastier place. Also, you are somehow causing global warming, though I can't pinpoint exactly how.

Disclaimer: Of course, the exception to this is in NY, where I feel lucky if I don't get honked at before the light turns green. You carry on with your non-wave NY, I think a wave would ruin your image.
BUT EVERYONE ELSE WAVES, GOT IT?

I'd also like to talk about the music of the 60's. I feel cheated, frankly. Sixties music is awesome and actually good. And what did I get? I got "I Wanna Dance With Somebody". Not good enough.
But I do feel fortunate that I'm not growing up now, because today's music is mostly whiny and crap-o, with a few exceptions. Good god, listen to how old I'm getting. Turned down that damned music, you kids! I'm two seconds away from chasing someone with a broom.
I made the sweetest 60's Mix cd on ITunes.

And lastly, a story about a lady at work. Seriously, she's the nicest lady in the entire world. But, for some reason, she insists on trying to talk to the kids in their 'lingo', if you will. For instance:
Kid: I can't fill this out right now, I'm gonna miss my bus.
Her: Oh, don't worry, just sit down and fill it out and I'll take you ho.. I mean, I'll take you to the crib.
I laugh hysterically when this happens. She's got to be sixty. Again, I love her, but it's got to stop.

I KNEW it!

Don't try to play me out, Cadbury! I've been there since Day 1. You think you could slip that by?
Okay. So I haven't been there since Day 1, persay. But I've been a lifelong fan.
Shame on you.
You can send me the other 15% via the US Postal Service at your convenience.

BTW- Turns out the lymphnode was, in fact, just a lymphnode. I didn't get a picture, sorry. What I did get was a postcard in the mail from my doctor with the test results, asking me if I wanted to have surgery done to remove the lymphnode. Think I'll go ahead and forgo the surgery, thank you.

So, I heard back from Tin House. I did not get the scholarship (which means I'm not going), but the lady did call me and say that I was one of only a handful of finalists, and that, had they not run out of money, they would have offered me a scholarship.
That's nice to hear, even if I didn't get it.
Probably though, I'll go ahead and go when I win the Michigan Millionare Raffle in April, since I'll be a million dollars richer and all.

Here's my new fun video recorder toy, plus me and Jen and Ryan bottling wine for their wedding:

Simple Things..

This is Lily and her boyfriend Matt. This is literally the only picture I took, in St. Louis and it's of their backs. I hope someone is around to tell me about my life when I'm old, because I certainly have no proof of anything I did.

On google, you can customize your homepage to be all the links to things that you want to read. And now you can also give your page a theme. For instance, I chose the theme with the fox who appears to be of asian descent. So there's this screen at the top of the page and it has my little fox friend. On one side of the screen is his orange orchard, in the middle is a little pond, and on the left is his little house built on stilts in the water.
I have developed an unhealthy attachment to my fox friend.
Depending on what time of day it is, he's always doing different things when you go there.
For instance, in the morning, he likes to pick oranges on a ladder in his orchard.
Around mid-day he's often washing his clothes in the river or enjoying his little picnic lunch with chopsticks.
At the end of the day, my fox friend likes to sit on his deck and play his banjo for the ducks.

This is becoming a problem. I really feel like he's my friend.
I visit often to see what he's up to.

Here are a couple of Easter pictures. I'm really trying hard to take more pictures but I'm a little lame at it.

Here I Am

Here's a story about the airport. The flight from St. Louis to O'Hare is fine. Then, the flight from O'Hare to Kalamazoo gets delayed. And then it gets cancelled. So they say "Your flight has been cancelled, please go to the customer service desk at Gate A4"
So we go there. We're waiting in line for about 15 minutes when the customer service rep behind the counter grabs his coat and says, "Excuse me everyone. As of right now, our shift is over. We don't know if anyone is coming to take our places, so you'll have to go the customer service counter in the C terminal."
Are you kidding me?
It was really kind of unreal.
Long story short, I flew into Detroit instead and my parents came and picked me up and then we went to a restaurant that friends of my parents own and it was really fun.

St. Louis was really fun. We went to the zoo and Dave and Busters, and ate out a lot and watched a lot of TV. Including The Hills, which I have never seen. This show... is barely tolerable. It's all the people from Laguna Beach. I think this little exchange just about sums it up.
Guy: So what did you do all day?
Girl: Oh, just went to work.
Guy: Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot you work.

Like people working is such a foreign concept. Except, it is.
The show is like a freaking car wreck that you just can't look away from.

This is all I have to report for now.

Congratulations, It's a lymphnode!

So I'm having an ultrasound on Friday. No, I'm not pregnant. Good Lord, don't even say that. But I have this bump on my leg. Maybe if you don't know me, you don't know that I'm a crazy psycho hypochodriac.
Once, when my hair was shedding a lot, I became terrified that I had cancer. Then I remembered that it's the chemo that makes your hair fall out, not cancer. I couldn't come up with any horrible hair-shedding diseases so I felt okay.
So anyways, I've got this bump on my leg. Naturally, I decide that it's cancer. Nope, couldn't be anything else, right? I think this facet of my personality is made worse by certain friends of mine, no names mentioned, who have been known to think they have a brain tumor because their eye is fluttering. So I freak out and go to my doctor who is uber-cool.
She's like "Dude. It's an enlarged lymphnode."
She knows I'm insane though, so she says "I'm 99% sure it's a lymphnode. But why don't you get an ultrasound to make sure."
It's really nice to have sweet teacher insurance when you're a psycho hypochondriac.
So I'm having an ultrasound for my baby lymphnode.
I will post the picture ASAP.
Sara's going to be disappointed though. I called her up the other night at 11pm when I found my lymphnode and she says. "That bump is just an alien baby. It's a tap-dancing alien baby, like from Men In Black. Don't worry."

Last night, because it's so nice out, I decided to decorate my porch. I bought a string of globe lights and hung them up and it looked like a cute little outdoor Italian restaurant out there. Then, the sticky things holding them to the ceiling gave out and they all fell to the floor and smashed everywhere.
If you're looking for a good way to waste $10, I highly recommend it.

Rob Says: "Laura, It Must Be Difficult Living in My Shadow."

Probably the best part of today was when I went outside to get a bottle of water from my car at work . I popped the trunk and then locked my keys in the regular part of the car. So. In the parking lot at school, I had to climb into my trunk, through my back seat and into the front seat to get my keys. It was awesome.

I do want a dog, but I'm a little afraid to get one, because having a dog seems to mean that you commune with other dog owners and ask dog questions to one another like, "Oh, what breed is he?" "How much does he weigh?" "How old is he?". You know I just don't care. I would be considered by other dog owners to be an unkind, unfriendly dog owner. And they would be right.

In the past two days I have rented two (2) HBO shows on video. Here is the verdict-
Curb Your Enthusiasm: It's funny, but I couldn't watch it for more than a few episodes. Mom, you wouldn't like it, it's about the guy who wrote Seinfeld, i.e. your arch nemesis.
Big Love: This show is AWESOME. It's about a polygamist and he and all his three wives and seven kids live together in Salt Lake City. I would go so far as to say it's fascinating.

Oh please, people. You know that Locke did not blow up that submarine. That baby is submerged somewhere. Why was John soaking wet when he walked back? You enter a submarine from the top, there's no reason he'd be wet.

I feel as if I've done a better job of being positive, or at least benign on this blog lately. And so I'm allowing myself this one pet peeve report.
You know what my pet peeve is? When people sit there and stare at you when you tell them something.
Instance:
Student: Can I go see Counselor XYZ?
Me: He's not here
Student: (blank stare. Time passes. Babies grow up. Species evolve.) Oh. I need to talk to him.
Me: You should try back tomorrow before school.
Student: Okay. Cause I need to talk to him about changing my classes.
Now, it would be one thing if at this point the student left. But the student stays there and stares at me. It's almost like they think that I'm hiding him and if they have a good enough excuse, I'll let them see him.
What I say: Okay. Come back tomorrow.
What I'm thinking: GET OUT OF HERE!!! I ALREADY TOLD YOU HE'S NOT HERE LEAVE ME ALOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Reasons Why Wednesday Is My Favorite Day of the Week

Most people like to spread their good stuff out over the week so they have something to look forward to every day. I like to put it all on one day so it's like SUPERDAY. I find that sometimes a small good thing cannot, on it's own, withstand the suckiness of a typical workday. However, your workday is no match for all of your fun stuff combined. Much like our friend Captain Planet. Once you combined their powers, Dr. Sludge was SOL.
My day is Wednesday. Here's all the good things about Wednesday Superday:

(1) It's halfway through the week
(2) I wear jeans to work on Wednesdays. No, it's not jeans day. It's just me.
(3) It's my day off from running.
(4) It's the day I get a massage
(5) Lost is on
(6) Lately, I've been getting fruit smoothies on Wednesdays, too.

Wednesday is chock full of happiness. Here is a small tip when making your own superday- Don't make it a weekend day. Weekends are already awesome. The awesomeness of the weekend will diminish the awesomeness of your superday.

Please feel free to comment on your own superday.

Isn't Danny cute, even when he's making stupid faces? Actually, forget I said that. That type of thing is exactly how he got spoiled in the first place.

And by the way, Danny, no, it doesn't count if you turn yourself in. Stop trying to get money out of me.

Did some excellent, excellent writing this evening about this sketchy family that used to live down the road from us. Scratch that. Their grandma used to live down the road. What the hell though, this is fiction, they lived down the road if I say they lived down the road. Everyone knows I'm a liar anyways.

Going to St. Louis in T-2.5 weeks. Going to find Nelly this time for sure. I think Lily knows his exact location. I will get it out of her even if she promised him and the St. Lunatics that she wouldn't tell.

"Laura, what do you think about Heroes being gone until April 23rd?"
Funny you should ask. I think it SUCKS.

Refer Back to This Post When You're Searching for the Root of My Gambling Addiction

I bought into the March Madness bracket pool at work. This is the most fun ever. Also, despite the fact that I have zero interest in and know nothing about basketball, I'm doing really well. Also, checking the scores gives me something to do at work. I've got Kansas beating Georgetown in the final. What's more fun than anything, though, is the one counselor I work with who is ridiculously competitive. I won't tell him who I picked. It's driving him crazy. Seriously though, he's a really nice guy, but his competitive streak is a little bit scary.

Thought while running today: What do you think Zack De La Rocha's mom is like?
I don't think Zack's mom makes cookies. Which is a shame, because cookies are good. Even revolutionaries need cookies.

Last Friday, I get this email from Dragon Lady that she's sent out to the whole school. It says "Paychecks are in! Come by and share a smile!"
First of all, gag.
Second of all, share a smile with who? Are you being facetious? Did you hire someone else to hand out checks?

My sinuses are congested.

Spring! Spring! Spring!

I have the best tree in front of my deck (see left). In a few weeks it's going to be all green and totally awesome, and when it's summer my deck won't be 10,000 degrees.

My Blogs Will Continue to Consist of Numbered Lists Until I Have Something Interesting to Talk About

Don't hold your breath.

(1) Has anyone else noticed that certain types of marinara sauce taste disturbingly similar to vomit? I don't mean that they're gross. I mean they actually taste like vomit. If you don't know what I'm talking about, I invite you to have the Baked Penne at Gallagher's, like I did last night.

(2) I'm obsessed with this song.

(3) Hooray! I ran 10 miles today! This means that I have now run the distance between Lapeer and Davison. Also, I have run the Crim.
I decided around mile 8 today, which is no place to make decisions, that I will never, EVER run a marathon because that is pure insanity. Also, if you run a marathon, I don't think you could get away from eating that Gu stuff. Have you seen this stuff? It's like an instant hit of carbs that you eat while you're running to refuel yourself. It appears to have the texture of rubber cement. No Gu, thank you. If you are immature like me, you will get great joy from saying that sentence quickly.

(4) Hooray for the consignment shop also, where I purchased two shirts, one of which was very expensive the first time it was purchased, for a mere $15.

(5) Hooray for Ryan and Jen who we will be meeting for drinks tonight at Shakespeare's.

(6) Shakespeare's website is lame. It makes it look like a fisherman's bar. No Hooray there.

(7) Rob and I are in a fight for the following reason: He says that if he were a Tyrannosaurus, he would eat me even if he loved me because he couldn't fight his natural instinct. I said if he really loved me, he would fight the natural instinct and not eat me. He refuses to say "Laura, I wouldn't eat you if I were a tyrannosaurus." Until he does, we're not speaking.

(8) Proof that my dad is a sucker (in the good way): You know how we're trying to get rid of those stupid cats? We HATE those cats. They've been around FOREVER. The other day, my mom says to herself "Could I live with myself if I took those cats to the Humane Society?" She couldn't, but at least she tried. Bridget has a growth on her neck. What does my dad do? He pays $600 to have it removed. WHY CAN'T WE LET THEM DIE?? THAT COUNTS AS NATURAL CAUSES!!!! Of course, this aspect of my dad's personality can be used to my advantage as well.

(9) Mostly though, it's used to Danny's advantage. You know the whole Survival of the Fittest thing? I think Danny's one of the fittest. Danny gets away with EVERYTHING. It's like he has a special gene that gets him things. He's clearly more evolved than me. If Danny were a tyrannosaurus, he would eat me, no need to even ask. Don't get cocky about it though, Danny, you would have freaky short arms and I'd get in a couple of jokes about it before you ate me.

(10) It's 50 degrees out. This makes me very happy.

Fergie Ferg, Amongst Other Things

(1) You know how I feel about Fergie Ferg. But all personal feelings aside, she must have the worst lyrics known to man. Also, she is always spelling things out in her songs. Why? Once, okay, but Fergie has turned into a one-trick spelling pony. I only know three Fergie songs and she spells things out in all three of them.
If I were Fergie and I wanted to try and save myself from this embarrassment, I would turn it into a joke. I would name my next album "Spelling Bee", except I would spell it "Spelling B", and the "B" could stand for.. well, "be-ah", if you will.
I'm not saying Fergie is a be-ah, but she could use it in a slangy way.
Just a suggestion.
Here is a lyric from her new song, which I heard on the way to work the other day. It instantly put me in a bad mood.

After the show or after the Grammies
I like to go cool out with the family
Sippin', reminiscing on days when I had a Mustang
And now I'm in...

If you've heard the song though, the way she sings it, it sounds like she says "Sippin', reminiscing on days when I had a mustache".

Whatever, I'm a hater.

(2) Target sells $120 irons. What does a $120 iron do? Don't they all just.. flatten things? I bought the $20 iron, but if I ever won the lottery, I think I would buy a $120 iron.
Just kidding.
If I won the lottery I would never work again, and everyone knows that if I wasn't working, I would be wearing jeans and a tshirt full time and there would be no need for an iron. Probably the same tshirt and jeans all the time. Even to weddings. And I could, because I won the lottery. I would let you, too.

(3) I ran 5 miles today, but it was slightly excruciating. I am, today, exactly halfway through my training camp. I think I am getting over the hump and things will be easier next week.

(4) Here is my Lost prediction: They are going to find Otherville while they're driving around the island in the hippie van.

(5) I'm reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, which is about writing and is quite fantastic.

(6) There's a whole story about the Red Bull truck that hit me the other day, but I am too tired to go into it. I hate it when people do that. Sorry.

Happy Bday Danny!

This weekend we had Danny's bday party. Unfortunately, Danny was in Florida, so he couldn't make it. We had a great time anyways, Danny! Great cake!

Red Bull Does Not Give You Wings

There are a few things I'd like to talk about. First of all, I was assaulted by a Red Bull truck this morning. I'm driving along next to a school bus and when the bus slows down to make a turn, guy in a Red Bull truck that's waiting to turn out from that street decides to gun it in front of the bus. Bad idea, since I am on the other side of the bus. So we hit and all, and now Lola Corolla needs stitches for her front bumper, which I am NONE too happy about, but he got the ticket, so he'll be paying for Lola Corolla's return to greatness.
Dummy.
The wierdest thing ever is when you're skidding and you're thinking to yourself, very calmly, "Hmm. I'm gonna hit that guy."

Second of all, I'd like to talk about this- Exhibit A.
Dear 80's:
Are you being serious? Do you think we don't see you, sneaking your awkwardly large bows back onto the fashion scene? No one is interested in being a child of the 80's again, thank you. Want to know what happened to the people who were popular during your time? Let's see:
Whitney: Drugged out
Paula: Judging on a lame-o show
Pee Wee: Doing time
Screech: Getting kicked out of his house
Debbie Gibson: Living under the assumed named "Debra", trying to escape her Electric Youth past
You were no good for anyone, 80s. So, take your tapered jeans and your bag-like dresses and all your freakiness and take a trip back 20-some years where you belong.

My sister had Electric Youth when we were in middle school. I myself wore "Tribe", which was cool until my school banned it because it made people break out in rashes.

There are no good movies out right now. Maybe they're saving all the good movies for spring and summer. Summer for sure, seeing as Harry Potter comes out on July 13th. It's already on my google calendar.