Rights for Leprechauns!

What’s new in the Land of Lauren? Let me see. My crazy points have gone up exponentially since the majority of my acquaintances have discovered that I have an imaginary therapist and a leprechaun living under my bed. My creative writing class... I think is split on the issue. My professor (the one that’s kind of like Mrs. Doubtfire) seemed to be very interested in the fact that Freud makes frequent visits. It was part of a class discussion.

Actually, when I was explaining the concept of Rochester in the WC (Women’s Center) today, I met some resistance. Apparently there are laws to being a leprechaun and Rochester doesn’t qualify. According to the source of this information (who quickly got on my nerves) the fact that Rochester isn’t Irish and that he isn’t a cobbler disqualify him from his leprechaun identity. Personally, I don’t see why Rochester can’t be of another nationality and practice whatever career he so chooses. We as humans expect these rights. I don’t understand why we would then disallow them for other creatures. It’s racism and discrimination I tells ya!

Rochester: What does he want! I’ll show him my damn passport and my citizenship papers... bloody bastard!

Lauren: Rochester, I’m taking care of this, get back under the bed.

Rochester: Oh I see how it is. Stick the problem under the bed.

Lauren: Hush! Or I’m removing you as a character and then I’ll be the only one who has to hear you talk. Besides, it takes you forever to type. Now, will you let me deal with this? I’m on your side. I told him all about how your father fought in the Leprechaun Resistance of 1789. Why is that the same year as the French Revolution by the way?

Rochester: That was the First Resistance. My great grandfather fought in that one. It was for the right to roam the country without fear of being hunted. We think the upswing of people needing good luck around that time increased leprechaun hunting. We lost that war. My father fought in the Second Leprechaun Rebellion in the early 1900s. It was mostly for the same reasons but also for the freedom to emigrate and choose our careers. Obviously we won.

Lauren: Oh... well... I’ll be sure to pass that information along.

Rochester: Thank you. And be sure to tell him that my grandfather lost his eye in that rebellion... Make him feel guilty.

Lauren: I’ll do my best, now back under the bed please.


Okay, where was I? Right... About my creative writing class. My teacher walks with a cane and she is older so when I noticed her pen under the table, I figured I should help her out. It was the end of class and we were the only two left in the room. I bent over and heard a ripping sound. Yeah, it wasn’t my pants. I never thought in my life that I would say this, but I burst my bra. I’d recently fixed it. The underwire had become an outerwire. So tonight, when I bent over, RIIIIIIIIIP! There goes my crappy stitching job and there’s my underwire! Somehow, I managed not to say anything, escape from class and get all the way home before cursing and tossing the bra aside. Dang blast it! I have to go bra shopping again. I hate bra shopping...

Aside from becoming a Leprechaun Rights activist over the last six hours or so, nothing much happened. I had a very normal, average day with the usual amount of Lauren-ness thrown in. I only embarrassed myself once (oddly enough, not the bra incident) but I’m over it... so, whatever. My parody seems to have gone over well! YAY!

But that’s pretty much it for today. Is it a bad sign when imaginary characters start interrupting you? Probably... Oh well, I’m seeing my therapist this week anyway. The real one, not Freud.

Lauren.