Getting Dirty

Today, today, what happened today? Why, nothing happened today. Why on earth am I speaking this way? I’m a bit tired that’s why and we know how I get when I get tired.

So, what happened today. I got an email from my unnamed prof. She mentioned that her mind was a steel trap, or at least, that it used to be. I wanted to make some witty remark but decided not to. Every time I started typing it, it sounded really dirty. At first it was about something being caught in my trap (ew?), then there was something holding my trap open (ow?). When I got to a hole in my trap where things seep out, I decided it was best that I give up. I think it was for the best. She knows me. She can use her imagination. I wouldn’t tell her so I’m kind of hoping she doesn’t think to look here. (Aside to Unnamed Prof: If you do read this, aren’t you glad I didn’t send it? Also, please let me know if you’ve read this.) Right, now that no one else heard that because it was an aside, on to other stuff.

Other than avoiding sending a potentially dirty email to my former professor, (which I may or may not have failed at since I’ve posted it here) I found some questionable content in a picture hanging in my parents’ room. Actually, I noticed it months ago, but I finally said it tonight. Here it is. Anyone see what I see?

No? Yes? What are you seeing Lauren? I am seeing female reproductive organs! –collective gasp- Yes! Female reproductive organs! That’s disturbingly fun to say. See, they’re right there.

As soon as I told my mom, she looked at it, smirked and said: What? Oh yeah! Ha! You’re right, there’s the ovaries and the fallopian tubes and yeah... yeah, it’s all there. Maybe if I flipped it over?

Lauren: Then it’ll just be facing the right way if she’s standing up.


Mom: Shut up! Come on, we have to make supper.

She turned the light off and left at that point. Although I’m pretty sure my words will haunt her whenever she looks up from her bed and sees her painting of FEMALE REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS!

Since I’m being mature, I had several opportunities to mentally giggle in class today. My prof was talking about an organization called the C.U.P. Really? C.U.P.? No matter how hard I tired, I’d mentally giggle and think: I’d rather not. It’s how I deal with stress... please don’t judge me.

Before I disappear for another day, I have to thank Snafuzzy for making me smile and making my day. If you want to know what I’m talking about, check out my post from a few days ago “I Need a Hero...ine”.

Lauren.

Cat Dreams?

You know that old saying that “you learn something new every day”? Well I definitely learned something new today. I don’t really know why I hadn’t thought of it before. But here it is.

I was sitting on my bed, working away when Meeko jumped up on my bed and curled up against my leg. He does that all the time so I didn’t really think anything of it. He was sleeping and snoring in no time. In spite of his relatively small size, he can actually snore as loud as any human I’ve known to snore. After a while, his leg started twitching, his whiskers were twitching, he was making little squeaking meowing sounds. I assume he was dreaming. I only say assume because obviously he can’t tell me, but what do cat’s dream about?

He usually wakes up with a snort or a sneeze or something. He kept twitching and all that so I finally reached forward to pet his side. About a second later, he jumped up, eyes completely black, about a foot further back than he’d been and just staring at me, totally confused. Based on this evidence, I’ve decided that cats can also have nightmares. Again though, what would cats have nightmares about? That we’d forget to feed him? Or that he wouldn’t have treats at supper? Most of what Meeko does is sleep... like at least 20 of 24 hours are dedicated to that purpose. Then again... we did adopt Meeko from the pound. Perhaps he was reliving traumatic events from his kittenhood?

As of now however, I’m listening to my dad snore while Meeko is snorting. I think he’s got a cold again. He seems to catch them whenever one of us does.

Other than that, I had to write an essay based on my presentation content. What does one do after writing an essay about prostitution in Mary Barton? Well duh! I’m watching Shrek 4. What else would I do? Nothing like a modern fairytale before bed.

Crap... now dad and Meeko are both going... Snoresville! Bedtime soon apparently. And dad says he has nothing in common with the cat.

Lauren.

I Need a Hero... ine!

I spent another day hiding in my tower. That’s what I’m now calling my bedroom. It’s on the top floor, it’s small, kinda dusty and I’m often locked in it. Sounds tower like to me. I’m actually now joking that the only things missing from my room are a mini-refrigerator and a hotplate. If only I had those two I would be living in a completely self sufficient environment. And before you ask, the bathroom is next door. I could always tunnel through my closet if I didn’t want to use my door. Although... now that I’m thinking about it, the tower thing does pose a problem.

For any brave cross-dressing FEMALE knights who would like to try and rescue me, I’ve taken the liberty of listing the obstacles you will have to face.

Busy highway: I’m sorry to say, I do live on a very busy street. If you are planning on going the white horse route I suggest also purchasing a reflective caution sign. It seems to work for the farmers or Amish people who go by my house at least once a year.

Minefield: If you choose to cut through my neighbours’ backyards, you can’t be allergic to dogs. All my neighbours have dogs of varying degrees of ferociousness. I can’t tell you where they are exactly but they are there. The one on the end of the street kind of looks like a bear. I’d bring dog biscuits.

My room: My room faces our backyard so if you were planning on sneaking in... all the doors squeak. Might want to grease those. I’m also not on the first floor so you’re going to need some form of extendable ladder. My hair isn’t long enough to be of any use.

The interview: Where I will determine your worth. What? I’m not a Disney Princess. I don’t just run off with the first person to sing me a song. If you’re planning on singing, choose your song carefully. Points for added degree of difficulty though! And just so you know, while we do have a pool, it isn’t currently filled with carnivorous fish. If you sing something by Justin Bieber, I will make sure we get carnivorous fish within the hour.

My parents: Will most likely watch every move you make and render you extremely uncomfortable. It’s their gift. Consider sunglasses.

Escape plan: You’ll need plane tickets. Nowhere I want to go can be reached by horse. Unless you have a Pegasus which is not a horse but is definitely more impressive. You’ll also have to act quickly because my parents also have the power to make people feel guilty and like they are headed toward imminent financial ruin. It doesn’t sound scary, but don’t underestimate it as a power.

Alright, so you have your list of potential dangers, you have a shopping list, you know where my room is and how to get there. If you are interested in saving me from Hetero-Middle of Nowhere I wish you the best of luck. If you have no interest it saving me, please consider sending cash or a money order so that I may purchase a hotplate or mini-fridge.

Must not be married, in a relationship, certifiably insane, on deathbed, contagious, have a criminal record, enjoy dancing the Macarena, have an obsession with death, be heterosexual, be experimenting, like onions, think Twilight is the greatest thing since sliced bread, have less than perfect dental hygiene. Full list of criteria can be found in Lauren's mind.

Lauren.

Wall of White

Today’s weather was atrocious. I managed to snag a ride to school but I was shit out of luck for a ride home. One word: BLIZZARD! It snowed heavily all day.

After class, I stopped by my prof’s office. I got a very strange idea for my end of term essay. Given that it just popped into my head on a whim, I didn’t want to tell him what the full idea was. I apparently succeeded in confusing him. By the time I made it back up to the front of the school, I’d missed two buses. My chances of getting on the next bus did not seem particularly good. It was snowing like crazy, a little cold and there were already at least forty people huddled outside, waiting, hoping to be among the few who would be able to escape.

The first bus came. We all crowded together, pushing to be at the front, trying to anticipate where the bus would stop and open its doors. Turns out that was a waste. The bus was out of service. The second time, even more people joined the crowd, the pushing increased, people started moving strategically, still of course, pushing. (You're more likely to get on the bus if you're off to the side of the crowd instead of right in front of the doors.) I got lucky in spite of being right in front of the doors. Of the six people who got on the bus after me, only two were allowed to stay. The bus was too full. It made me wish I was more aggressive. Maybe if I had like... a hula hoop attached to suspenders to keep people out of my personal space? Or... maybe I should just start flailing and foaming at the mouth. Since Gaviscon has become my new friend maybe I could use that to create the illusion of foaming at the mouth. I’m going to keep working on this plan. I think it has potential.

There was also a creepy, pervy guy. No bus ride is complete without at least one weird, creepy person. He seemed overly excited at the prospect of the girl in front of me nearly falling into his lap. We were stuck standing and there are some pretty intense turns coming out of the campus. I think the perv was sad when she didn’t fall but he tried to hide it with a good-humoured chuckle.

When I finally left the hell-chariot behind, I had to walk and I very much missed standing on the bus next to a perv. My walk home felt something like this. To get this picture, I had to google ‘hiking through snow’.

I looked really attractive by the time I was leaning against the back of my front door. My hair was a mess from my tuque, my eyes were watering, I was snotty, covered in layers of snow and completely frozen. I hate blizzards... Meeko on the other hand ennjoyed eating the snow that was falling off me. We must have gotten fifteen centimetres of snow or more today. And more to come! I’m staying safely indoors over the next two days.

Lauren.

I Dreamed That Dream?

Okay, so we know I’ve been stressed this week. I’m now wondering if stress is a factor in really messed up dreams/nightmares. I rarely remember my dreams but those of the last three nights have been so messed up that I wake up, say “WTF?”, go over them again and before either getting up or going back to sleep, say “WTF?” again for good measure.

Three nights ago I dreamt that my former boss’ son kidnapped me from some mall in order to bring me back to work. For some reason, I have no idea why, I was happy about that and dutifully went to work once we got back to the restaurant. It’s particularly weird given that I haven’t heard anything from my former boss’ (though we often socialised outside of work) since I quit and I’m about 90% sure their son really didn’t like me. Given that information, I don’t think any kidnappings he would perform would be pleasant for me.

My dream apparently means:

To dream that you are being kidnapped, denotes feelings of being trapped and restricted. Someone or some situation may be diverting your concentration and your attention away from your goals.

To see your coworkers in your dream, highlights aspects of your waking relationship with them, including difficulties/support. It signifies your ambition, struggles and competitive nature. Work-related dreams can also often be linked to stress at work.

Two nights ago, I dreamt I was at some very strange hotel. I remember it being abnormally large with really weird elevators. I don’t know why I was there, but I do remember owning a guinea pig that was of vital importance. I think there was also swimming in a big ass pool at one point, but I’m unsure now how that fits in with the guinea pig. I don’t think he was swimming... Anyway, I haven’t stayed in a hotel for... I don’t even remember when the last time was. And I’ve never owned a guinea pig.

This signifying that:

To see a hotel in your dream signifies a new state of mind or a shift in personal identity. You are undergoing some sort of transition and need to move away from your old habits and old way of thinking. You need to temporarily escape from your daily life. Alternatively, the dream may imply a loss in your personal identity.

To see a guinea pig in your dream represents your need to be more responsible and attentive. Alternatively, it suggests that through experimentation and taking risks, you learn how and how not to do something. You learn from your mistakes.

Last night I dreamt I was getting married. The two really cool parts of that dream were a) Jane Lynch was at my wedding and we discussed Glee fanfiction and b) not only could I walk in heels, I could surf in them! Neither of which I can do in reality. I don’t want to admit to who I was marrying but I do know her. It’s just too weird. Not the girl... just... the idea of marrying her? I have no idea why but apparently we were being married in some basement hall by that actor that reminds me of Howie Mandel but with hair and whose name I couldn’t care to remember. I don’t remember a whole lot more except that her family was pissed.

Which obviously means:

To dream that you are wearing high heels, represent femininity and glamour. You feel confident and self-assured. Alternatively, high heels indicate that you are feeling restricted and limited in your role as a female. You do not think that you can fully and freely express yourself. To see or wear stilettos in your dream, signify female sexuality and domination. (it wasn’t that kind of dream, I swear!)

To dream of a marriage, signifies commitment, harmony or transitions. You are undergoing an important developmental phase in your life. The dream may also represent the unification of formerly separate or opposite aspects of yourself. In particular, it is the union of masculine or feminine aspects of yourself. (Does that count since I'm gay?)

To see a wedding in your dream, symbolizes a new beginning or transition in your current life. A wedding reflects your issues about commitment and independence. Alternatively, your wedding dream refers to feelings of bitterness, sorrow, or death. Such dreams are often negative and highlight some anxiety or fear. If you dream that the wedding goes wrong or ends in disaster, then it suggests that you need to address some negativity immediately.

So, I’m in transition, various halves of myself are coming together, I’m uncomfortable with my female identity and want to be dominated while simultaneously trying to find my lost identity, a search that is being hindered by my feelings of being trapped as well as my bitterness and negativity. But the important thing is that I feel confident and I learn from my mistakes. Okay, well, that makes perfect sense. Clearly me and Angela have some stuff to work on.

Dream dictionary at: http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary/


Lauren.

Theme of the Day: Education

I’m tired but so glad that it’s Wednesday. The tough week from hell is over. The theme for today? The education system. It was the topic of my history seminar and it was again touched on in my psychology for educators class.

Since I’ve been bitching about it my annotated bibliography, perhaps you would all be interested to know that my proposal was singled out in class. We had to go around the room and announce to our peers what we were working on. Pretty much everyone picked a topic based off of something that we covered in class. My topic? How physiognomy in literature helps perpetuate social norms. Not something we covered in class. At the end of our tour round the room, my prof seemed very excited that discussion was occurring and that many of us could share resources and then she looked at me and said: “Well, except for Lauren...” because my topic isn’t remotely similar to anyone else’s. Not that it matters. I work best alone.

Once that was over with, I was off to my psych class. The first half was painful. Not because of the prof, not because of what we were covering. No... I have made a lovely comic strip illustrating my irritation. I’m the one with the ponytail in the back. Jenny (who I mentioned last Wednesday) is the blonde next to me. These drawings are not to scale (I’m way bigger than Jenny) and we all have better hair. And faces.




The second half was really interesting. We watched this fantastic youtube video. If you’re interested in education at all, I suggest you watch it. It’s about ten minutes long but so brilliant. I still haven’t figured out how to upload youtube videos so I’m just going to pose the link. Oh, and we watched Little Man Tate which is also really good.


Ze link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDZFcDGpL4U

Interesting stuff isn’t it? (Well... for those of you who watched it.)

Anyway, that’s just another day in Lauren Land.

Lauren.

Day... of Just Homework

Tired. Plagued by heart-burny feelings. Stressed. But mostly tired.

So, how went the presentation? Dare I say average for me? Yeah... I started off somehow randomly showing my class that medieval sex flowchart I’m going to have to post again. Then I had to explain it. It had absolutely nothing to do with my presentation. I can’t for the life of me remember why it came up. Or how for that matter. In any case it provided a good lead in to my actual presentation.

It was entertaining. For me anyway. My prof would scribble, then there was this smile because I was touching on some topic he was writing about, and then there was the scrunched brow which I don’t think was a good sign but it amused me nonetheless. I got lost twice, which is normal for me. I once gave in to one mental picture I was having and subsequently acted it out. (It was of a priest flinging holy water on a crowd of unrepentant Victorian prostitutes screaming “repent, repent!” in case you were curious.) I mumbled a lot of unnecessary sarcastic comments which I should know not to do. But I did get to draw a fun little chart on the whiteboard because I was clever enough to bring my own markers and eraser. Hehe. I mentioned I have a massive white board in my room right? Also, I’m not getting a present. That was just incentive to get someone to go first... I was second... I told my professor I was disappointed. We’ll see what he does with that. Probably forget all about it. The best part of this presentation though is that it’s done. This is an ongoing thing throughout the semester and I got it over with during the quiet time of year. I also got to present on possibly the shortest novel. Bonus! considering how friggin’ slow I read.

But enough about that! I got home and stupidly watched reruns of The Nanny and Golden Girls. I only say stupidly because I had an annotated bibliography to write. My prof disguised this assignment under the title “essay proposal”. To me, that does not imply a bibliography with notes. This is why profs don’t care what I think. It took a while because (adding to my stupidity) I returned the books I needed and the photocopies I made were lacking the information I wanted. Thank you Google, Wikipedia and Amazon.com. By about ten, my notes were getting shorter and shorter. She said be brief. I have made it through yet again!

All that remains to this awful week is seminar reading which I hope to finish tomorrow morning, handing in my “essay proposal”, writing an article on freedom (or lack thereof in my case), more seminar reading and possibly a Pride meeting. Pft... totally manageable. I’m a superhero. Right?

Lauren.

Silliness over Stress

Presentation writing is finished. I have to admit, I probably had more fun than I should have. The only way I can work when I get into this kind of stressed stupor is by making things that shouldn’t necessarily be funny, funny.

My presentation is about Victorian prostitution. The following sentences are in my presentation:

- Esther is a stereotype while Mary’s danger is real
- Mary’s looks and manner gain her allies and cash flow
- Men, Men, Men!
- First there was a John, then a Jem and even a Ben
- Present pro saves future pro

This is my conclusion:

And because Mary embraced middle class ideals and gave up her less than wholesome ways, she was allowed to marry and happily embrace all that domesticity had to offer... In Canada.

Obviously that statement would be adorned with the ever-so-stylish maple leaf and most famous Canadianism.

Not enough? Here are some more images I used:

Oh good times. Can’t wait to see how this goes over. I hate presentations but on the upside, it will be done early and I get a regifted gift from my prof! I think... I’m second to present. I don’t know if that only applied to the first girl. I want a present...

Lauren.

Trapped Without a Time Machine

I can now add to the strange and wonderful repertoire of things I've read or am reading for school. Curious about the newest title? I'll give you a hint. Judith Walkowitz wrote it. That probably wasn't much of a hint. I've been reading her work lately as my seminars required some knowledge in what I assume is her area of expertise. Which is why I'm reading "Prostitution and Victorian Society: Women, Class and the State" at ten thirty on a Sunday night.

I actually find her work really interesting. Which I should probably tell my prof after I mentioned one of the articles she assigned literally put me to sleep. Not that it should have been surprising... even the friggin' article acknowledges that it's boring. How can I be blamed for dozing off when the chick who wrote it admits that it's dull? Though I will admit, the content is in fact important... The last two weeks have been horrible, that's my excuse for my foot in mouth disorder. But back to the prostitutes. I don't really know what I'm going to argue yet... most likely something regarding social class and economy... maybe how Esther had in fact managed to gain Middle Class status after all... hmmm... I'm mulling things over and basically only wrote that last sentence so I have something to refer back to in the morning. My ideas come to me at such awkward moments that no scrap of paper is safe. I once wrote on a Kleenex box. It was late and I didn't want to get up. The conclusion of my first novel was written on the back of my grade 11 math homework. Needless to say I haven’t kept it for the trigonometry information on the front. I couldn't even tell you what the trigonometry crap means if you asked me today. In all likelihood I wouldn’t have been able to tell you then either.

Last year I suffered from Nazi overload. I was in a Holocaust history class, then I was in a fascism class in which we focused on Italian and Nazi fascism. At one point, every class I was in somehow touched on Nazism. Not surprisingly, I ended up writing my most lengthy story for Creative Writing on the Rosenstrasse Protest. More Nazis! This year I’m Nazi-free and trapped in the nineteenth century. I’m in a Victorian literature course, a Victorian history course and in Islamic Civ Victorian imperialism is unavoidable. Not that I mind, I love the nineteenth century. I’m pretty sure my past-self lived in nineteenth century England. I should look that up! The point is, I’m now suffering dozens of untimely story ideas that I do not have time to write! I don’t have that much scrap paper handy and I do have to pay attention in class! God! Sometimes having an active imagination is so taxing.

Anyway, I think I’m going to put my active imagination to bed. Night! I’d think of a nineteenth century way of saying that except I think it would only be: “Good evening,” said with due propriety. Also, I’d have to ask male viewers to leave as it’s late and I’m un-chaperoned and in my bedchamber at the moment. (SHOCKING!) If you leave your calling card with my butler I’ll be sure to call on you on the morrow.

Lauren.

Super Lauren Strikes Again!

Stressed is an understatement. I'm not going to say much today because I want to get an early start tomorrow.

Tuesday: Presentation on Victorian Prostitution and Mary Barton
Wednesday: Annotated bibliography

Doesn't sound like much, but considering I haven't been able to finish Mary Barton yet, it is. I have about 100 pages left for tomorrow. I'm going to go through research material for the presentation tonight. Hopefully by Monday all I have to do is put the presentation together. Should there be time Monday I can start my annotated bibliography and finish that up on Tuesday. Somewhere in there I'll also get my seminar reading done.

At times like these I'm glad I'm stubborn and, though it doesn't sound like it, organized. I have most of the stuff for my annotated bibliography ready. I just have to write the proposal part and read a few more sources. I have pretty good notes. And I have a bit of knowledge to work on with the prostitution thing. So, it will get done.

That is my motto. I don't know when I adopted it, probably in first year, but it's never failed. Super Lauren! Away!

PS: Totally hating Meeko right now. He's all sprawled out, sleeping, undeniably comfortable, on MY BED! Oh, to be a cat.

Lauren.

Ready for my Coma

I’m... tired. I don’t think I’ll write much today or this weekend for that matter. I am completely overwhelmed right now. My only goal at the moment is to sleep well and somehow read faster than I ever have before. God willing I actually am a superhero.

As for today it went something like this. I had class and fretted over my presentation this Tuesday. On a whim I decided to stop in on my history prof to see if she could direct me to some resources. I wasn’t holding out high hopes given that it’s Friday and she doesn’t have office hours that day. Turns out she was there. She suggested two books, both of which we actually had in the library and were available. While looking for the books I ran into History Girl Version 2.0. After that I went home, did a little work then headed out to the hospital to visit dad. I stayed there about two hours or so. Thankfully he was discharged today. No heart problems, it’s a lung thing, something to do with the pleural sac being inflamed. Which as far as I can tell is way better than having a heart problem. Once dad managed to escape (he was pretty anxious to get going but got stuck eating dinner there anyway) we went to my grandmas because ne of my uncles was in town. I hadn’t eaten yet so my grandma fed me and sat with me in the kitchen while the others chatted. At one point my grandpa made to flick me but I turned too quickly. My grandma suggested I go sit in his lap. I told her that I would be more uncomfortable doing it than he would be. She said something... I’ve never heard anything with more potential to be creepy or dirty. “Why do you go flap his...” at that point I just looked at her and was like “Flap his whaaaaaaaaaaaa?” at which time she finished that sentence with “ear”. So grateful that’s how she ended that sentence.

It’s not even nine thirty. I don’t know how or why I’m still awake. Feels like it should be later.

Lauren.

Home Base Operator

I had a brilliant post planned (and you know it would have been brilliant) but I’m tired and my brain is in about forty places at the moment. Focusing on any one is proving to be difficult. I’ve been trying to do my homework and failing. It’s hard to read while acting as home base operator.

In short, my dad was again experiencing severe chest pain so my mom took him to the hospital. Third time in nine days. I bet something is not quite right... if only I were a doctor and could make these diagnoses. So, dad’s staying the night in the hospital, in the hall because there aren’t any rooms available. I’m sure the hallway is just as quaint.

My part in the ordeal was to pack up our uneaten supper after cooking it. Well... massacring it really. The roast wasn’t cooked completely and I was forced by the absence of anyone else to finish cooking it. I ended up pan-frying some fish. Need I say more? Later, I had to call my dad’s boss and inform him that my dad wouldn’t be coming in to work. Kind of weird given that I’ve never met the man and that I don’t know his first name. He answered and I could only address him as Sgt. Asselin. He was very nice. My mom called sometime around eight thirty and since I was upstairs, I slipped into my parents’ room. The thing with our phone is that it rings three times then hangs up on the caller. There’s no way to make it to the kitchen phone in time from upstairs. As it turns out, the answer to my mom’s question was residing in the kitchen. In order to answer her question, I had to leave the phone off the hook in my parents’ room. I totally forgot about the phone in their room so the line was busy for about an hour and a half. As soon as I hung that up, the phone rang about three times, every time getting me up just as I’d sit back down to my homework. So annoying! On top of which, my dad’s cell phone was going off as people were trying to get a hold of me. I don’t know how to make those damn things work...

Arg... too tired to deal with all this crap. School early tomorrow, homework all weekend, gonna have a good few days.

I’m currently watching Evelyn with my mom. Good movie. I don’t know why my mom wanted to watch it, it’s kind of long and we’re both ready to pass out. I don’t know that we’ll get through the whole thing. Pierce Brosnan... sleep... tough choice.

Lauren.

World Domination Progression

Before I begin this meeting of the World Domination League, I must first thank my friend Jenny. She drives me home after psychology class even though I live on a street that is terribly difficult to pull out onto. She has also kindly been entertaining me during our psychology class and given the late hour of this class, I don’t know that I could do it without her. Can we have a round of applause for Jenny? (I’m not being sarcastic. I want to hear you applauding.)

On that note, shall we start the meeting? Salem, Pinky, Brain, Voldemort? How are we doing in my quest to take over the world? Because this is my plot, not yours.

Salem: Why do you always feel the need to remind us that this is your plan?

Lauren: Because it is my plan. I don’t want you three glory hogs jumping snagging all the credit. So, status report. Voldemort?

Voldemort: In spite of my terrible allergy to cats and the previously mentioned cat’s grating voice, your blog has reached fifty one countries.

Lauren: Excellent. And everyone is still alive? No killing curses?

Voldemort: Yes... everyone is still alive... But I think the process would be so much faster if you just let me kill Harry Potter! I mean... kill those who oppose us— I mean, oppose you. Kill those who oppose YOU.

Lauren: Voldemort, you kind of creep me out but I consider you a... colleague, so please, listen to me. Leave Harry Potter alone, you know he always kills you when you go after him. Focus on the bigger issues. Besides, we wouldn’t want Daniel Radcliff fangirls storming the building again now would we?

Wild distant screams are heard int he background

Voldemort: ...No...

Lauren: Good. Brain, have you added the latest data to the Multicoloured Aerial Perception device?

Brain unimpressed: The MAP? Yes, I added the new data to the MAP.

Pinky: It was my idea to shorten it! NARF!

Lauren bouncing childishly: Oh! I’m so excited! Show me! SHOW ME NOW!

Brain cues up the image on his Multipurpose Analysing and Computing device.

Lauren: Excellent! Salem, take note of Brain’s success. I expect similar results in your department the next time I check in. And have that report on my desk early tomorrow. I have to read Mary Barton for class.

Salem: The Long-term Agreement for Universal Relinquishment and Eradication of Nationhood for Defeated Areas under the Influence and Leadership of You report?

Lauren: Yes, that report. Also, think of an acronym... that’s way too long to say.

Pinky: LAUREN DAILY!

Lauren turning to Pinky: Yes Pinky?

Pinky: LAUREN DAILY report!

Lauren: I would appreciate daily reports but I know you guys are busy with your own schemes. Besides, I have so much other school work... it’s just unrealistic for everyone.

Pinky: No! The LAUREN DAILY report!

Lauren indulgently: Pinky... It’s the Lauren Daily Experiment. You know that. You’ve been working here for months. Brain, maybe you should put Pinky to bed... I don’t think he’s feeling well.

Anyway... I’ve been keeping track of the various countries from which the people who end up on my blog come from. I hit fifty different countries today. Which I think is awesome! It’s like my own little version of International Bingo. Under North America! Mexico! And yes, I do jump up and down giggling and screaming girlishly when I see a new country. Actually, the fiftieth country was either Kuwait or the United Arab Emirates... I don’t know which of you got there first, sorry. Tie for first? As for Mexico, you visited me long before, you shall be rewarded for your timeliness.

Lauren.

French Swearing Education

I had an interesting conversation with my sister and my mom over the past two days that I want to share. For those of you who don’t know, I’m proudly French Canadian. It’s my heritage and I can speak, read and write in French. Kind of funny I love English so much isn’t it? Aside from arguing with people over the correct pronunciation of ‘poutine’ which is not a misspelled version of the Russian leader’s name, it’s actually just fries with gravy and cheese, I get into arguments about swearing.

My sister and I were discussing how much worse swearing in French is when compared to swearing in English. I have to agree with her. In English swears consist of bodily functions/parts, animals and mild blasphemy. Think about it: shit, bitch, fuck, damn, hell, ass, Christ, Jesus. Not really all that bad if you just consider the words for what they actually mean. “So you’re complaining loudly at me, damning me to Hell and calling me a piece of excrement for engaging in sexual actives, acting like a donkey or looking like the gluteus maximus of any number of animals? Well, Jesus Christ is an important biblical figure in several religions and I’m so surprised by your comments that I’m calling on him.” English swears are kind of all over the place.

What I find amusing is that there aren’t really any direct translations in French. The only three I can think of that are still swears are: shit, damn and ass which translate to merde/marde, maudit and cul.

Others like bitch, the female dog, would simply be ‘chienne’ and mean female dog. Bitch, as in bitching at someone, would be along the lines of plaindre or chialer and simply mean to complain or whine.

If you want to call someone a bitch in French you actually have to call them a cow. Personally, I’d rather be a female dog.

The majority of French swears are far more focused. In fact, they don’t leave the Church. To swear properly in French, you must swear on the tabernacle, the chalice, the host, Jesus Christ of course, the thingy that holds the host, baptism, sacraments... a few other things... As you can see, if you swear in French, you are pretty much guaranteed to have the black mark of blasphemy cast upon you. I don’t use most of them. I use the minor ones that aren’t related to religion and mostly the tabernacle... I don’t know why. It just rolls off the tongue.

What was the point of this again? Right. French swearing is worse than English swearing. You swear in English, you get put in the time out chair and it’s pretty much over with. You swear in French, you get put in the time out chair and you become a blasphemous wretch destined for hell. You’re also probably going to be in your grandmother’s bad books or be sent off to Church to beg forgiveness. Good times. Also, if you happen to be French Canadian, you can probably work a swear into just about every sentence.

Questions?

Lauren.

Marketing and Another Question

This post has two parts. The first part is another of my... can I say infamous? questions while the other is all about marketing. I know, it sounds fascinating, but trust me. It’s not what you think.

So, part one. I was in the shower when I thought of this. I actually wanted to post much earlier but had you seen the state of my legs before my Venus went on the offensive, you would be a) grossed out and b) more willing to forgive me. Let’s just skip ahead to ‘b’. How is this relevant? Well, it got to me thinking. I’m a single girl without the prospect of being un-single any time soon. And yet I shave my legs and actually care about various other body hair that Society has deemed unsightly. (Dear Society, I hate you!) Here’s my question: why do I care about unsightly hair if I’m single when every un-single girl I know couldn’t care less about how nasty and hairy her legs are? No one ever sees my legs. I never wear shorts, skirts, capris or other leg-bearing clothing. Which is a shame really, considering I do like my legs. I don’t understand why shaving feels necessary in order to attract but then seems to fall to the side once one’s partner has been wrangled (beaten?) into submission (aka, a committed relationship). Why repel when you actually have? Why does it cease to repel? I don’t get it.

Moving on to marketing though. This little adventure occurred on Saturday while I was out of town. The people we travelled with are avid pet owners. My cohort owns two turtles, a hedgehog, two cats, a dog and maybe a few other creatures, I’m not sure. In any case, I stupidly tagged along with them to the pet shop while my parents went to look at... home improvement stuff. At first it wasn’t so bad. We were looking at floating rock thingies for her turtles. But then we started wandering. We got near the back of the store where there was a wall of windows looking in on cat cages. I guess they were being cleaned because there were no cats to be seen. We stood in front of them, a little disappointed that we didn’t get to see any kittens (yes, we are 21) but then we noticed them moving around in the back of the room.

This adorable, fuzzy, black kitten, probably small enough to fit in the palm of my hand was roaming in the back. When he saw me, and he was looking right at me, he started pacing, staring forward, looking for the perfect place to jump into the cages and up to the viewing windows. After about a minute, and I’m just watching him, smiling the whole time like an idiot, he jumped into the viewing window, pawing at it! Could it get any more freaking adorable? Or pitiful? Because I know my parents will make me walk home if I buy that cat. Yes it can be more pitiful. All the cats were shelter cats. Thank God! my cohort then called me away. I ran dammit! I ran! The cuteness nearly broke me down. Had I not been interrupted... I can only say that I’m grateful we left before I got to the puppies.

Clearly animals are not stupid. That cat was trained in marketing! I know it! It was almost as bad as when my sociology prof from last year would start her lectures with pictures of shelter dogs and announce that they were free.

It’s another conspiracy I must investigate.

Lauren.

Prison Break

ot the easiest day. I used my one phone call to have a large sum of money transferred to a super secret bank account. Sounds easy? Wrong! Banks aren’t open on Sundays. I had to pull some serious strings. When the guard finally left for his lunch break, he was able to gain access to a computer to verify that the funds had been transferred. He released me from my cell when he got back. I have to say, I’m pretty unimpressed with prison security from that point on. I was able to just walk out. I was expecting more of a challenge, not that I wasn’t pleased. In any case, I am now hiding in an undisclosed location. Just thought you’d all like to know.

I’m just kidding. No one dared wake me up, therefore I didn't have to destroy anyone. Isn't that lucky? I actually did a whole lot of nothing today. Mostly just read. But if I had been thrown in jail, my escape plan probably would have been similar to what I outlined. If that had failed, my backup was to plead insanity. I have years worth of therapy I can draw on. There’s good stuff in there. After all, I’ve only been medicated for three of the last seven years.

Back to school tomorrow. I might have something more interesting to talk about by then.

Lauren.

7:00 AM Shopping

My parents, their friends, their friend’s daughter and I went shopping out of town. I was actually pretty excited about it because there’s a big-ass Chapters which beats the shit out of the Coles we have in town. Translation: I’d find books there that I can’t here AND not have to pay ridiculous shipping fees. Stupid 1.18$ gas...

Anyway, the one serious downer was that my parents suffer from Chronic Early-Riser Syndrome. I have no idea why, but they insisted that we had to be on the road by seven-thirty. The drive is two hours max and that’s accounting for bad weather. I casually (snottily) mentioned once or twice (an hour) that the stores would also be open at noon. This was met with laughter and a statement along the lines of: “But you’ll finally get to see what morning looks like.” I don’t care what 7:00 AM looks like. I’ve seen it and was hoping not to see it again. The only view I want at 7:00 AM is the back of my eyelids. My parents tried to pacify me by telling me that I’d have plenty of time to nap or read on the way down. I cleverly pointed out the window and asked how the hell I was supposed to read when it was still pitch black outside. On top of which there was a massive snowstorm. No sunlight for me! As to napping, whenever my similarly-aged cohort had the nerve to nod off, her stepdad would honk the horn, yell something at her or run off the road onto those choppy things meant to wake up sleeping drivers. No sleep for her!

When we arrived at our destination it was nine thirty. We drove up to Chapters and our parents promptly kicked us out of the van. They peeled off about three seconds later. I didn’t even have my coat on yet. What super-sucked was that Chapters didn’t open until ten. We were trapped in the Starbucks next door for half an hour, staring at the books we couldn’t peruse. When at last ten o’clock came, we bust into that joint I tells ya! I found two books that I later chose to buy. The first is one Angela’s been wanting me to read for like... three years because she thinks the main character is like me. She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb. The other one, I’d read another book by the same author and a professor assured me I’d like it, so I snatched it up. Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters. I was hoping to find a book of Christina Rossetti’s poetry but I pretty much gave up that hope when one of the chickies meant to help asked me if Christina Rossetti was a popular writer. I smirked and told her that Christina Rossetti had indeed been popular back in the 1800s. A little English-snobby of me? Maybe... I meant it as a joke...

A shoe store, a craft store, two clothes stores, lunch, a highly harassed waiter, Costco, back to the shoe store and two sweaters later saw us all piled back in the van, practically suffocating under our purchases. Mini-vans were not built for six people and their combined shopping. I was glad to be going home as I was pretty friggin’ tired by that point. Although, when my cohort loudly announced that her ass fell asleep, I promptly informed her that she was experiencing ‘stingle’. My mom laughed, my cohort and the rest of the car shouted: WHAT?! And looked at me like I’m crazy (but aren’t I?). I have seen the entire day come and go.

If anyone wakes me up tomorrow morning, I may destroy them. If I don’t blog tomorrow, it’s because I’m in prison.

Lauren.

Freedom! AIR!

Rochester: Are you getting any closer?

Freud: Give him a minute!

Magda: Another minute? Do you really think we have that long? I mean really? I’m amazed we haven’t run out of oxygen yet. We can’t keep feeding off the dust bunnies that wander in here.

Freud: Ve’ve been in here for months... you can vait anozer minute.

Magda: I haven’t felt my legs in weeks. I’m seven feet tall! I can’t be locked in here another minute longer.

Freud: And Rochester’s diminished status should compensate for your abnormal height.

Rochester: OH SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!

Cooper head-butts the wall again, finally breaking through. Mr. Plunk immediately jumps up, through the hole.

Mr. Plunk: I’m free! I’m free!

Rochester freaking out: Let me out! Claws at the walls until he falls through. AIR!

Lauren looking over, stunned at the sudden noise: What the hell are you guys doing?

Magda: YOU LOCKED US IN A BOX! YOU PILED STUFF ON TOP OF US! I’M SEVEN FEET TALL! THE BOX WAS NOT!

Lauren: What are you talking about?

Freud: Vhen you are not sinking about us, ve go avay. Given how long it’s been since you’ve let us out, ve got shoved away into the back room of your mind.

Magda: NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!

Lauren: Uh... I’m sorry?

Magda: SINCE NOVEMBER! I’VE BEEN TRAPPED IN THAT BOX WITH THAT QUACK FOR MONTHS!

Lauren: Mr. Plunk is great, what are you talking about?

Magda: Not him! FREUD!

Lauren peers around Maggie.

Lauren: Oh my God! What happened to Cooper? Cooper is passed out on the floor.

Rochester peeking at Lauren from his home under her desk: We had to get out of the box somehow... he’s the former ninja... we figured he’d broken boards before...

Lauren: You guys! Is he okay?

Freud dismissively: Should be... you’ve survived worse.

Lauren: Have I? I don’t really remember.

All of that to say I was missing my imaginary friends. That and nothing really, super interesting happened today. Went to class, had a meeting with a prof, not the unnamed one, had a quick nap in the WC, pretty quiet day. I also had to walk home which sucked. I think my eyes froze open... maybe. It took forever for my legs to thaw. Stupid winter.

Magda: Lauren, I think Cooper might need help.

Ick... I’d best be off.

Lauren.

AHA! EW! and YAY! Moments

What to say about today? It was quiet, cold, and kind of lovely all at the same time. I had a bit of a panic attack last night but as always, that allowed me to have a really good night’s sleep. I wasn’t feeling up to diving into any heavy school work so I just read all day in bed. My house, for whatever reason, is freezing cold so I was cowering under the covers but it still made for a good day.

I also got to visit a bit with my unnamed prof. She clarified a few things that I’d been suspecting and aware of in a way, but hadn’t been able to prove. She was talking about how English profs seemed to have a range of grades they give their students. I thought I might have just been really consistent, but it’s them! My English grades for the past four years have rarely exceeded 73% but have never been below 67%. Here’s the fun part. The two massive exceptions are Creative Writing which I finished with 90% and Children’s Lit which I finished with 80%. I’ve been annoyed for years at how I can never really “get it” when it comes to what my professors are looking for. Until this year when I figured something out completely by accident. The major difference between all my other English classes and the two exceptions is that Creative Writing and Children’s Lit both allowed me to be creative. I didn’t always have to be essay-analytical. Obviously in Creative Writing I got to write my way which isn’t possible in essays. I got to tell stories and just have things be without necessarily having to explain them or back them up with stacks of scholarly proof. In Children’s Lit, I did have to be analytical, but I didn’t have to spell it out and prove it. My unnamed prof also pointed out that while I was in her Children’s Lit class, I did really well on everything but the essay. Everything but the essay had creative opportunities, even the exam which I will admit, was actually fun to write. I will now point at the English department and say: “It’s not me! It’s you!” Perhaps this is food for thought? Eh profs? I know some of you read me. You’re the ones that look at me and smirk or shake your heads trying to hide your smiles. I know you’re out there.

But enough of my revelations, though I hope that some irritated English student out there is now feeling some relief. On to Grey’s. I have one word and I made it up ‘ohmayay!’. I’ll begin with the prefix. OH MY! Callie pregnant? Mark’s baby! Gross! Arizona? Hmmm... may have to revise some opinions. Is this a way of killing two birds with one stone? Getting Arizona back and solving the baby question for all those involved? Was that the point of Arizona calling Mark her brother? At the same time, it’s really blech, because I’m still pissed about Callie sleeping with Mark. Just... wrong on that level of my mind. And now the suffix. YAY! the random ‘a’ is just there to tie them together. Yay regarding the dude in the kilt. Grey’s Writers, I’m very disappointed in you over the Callie/Arizona/Mark debacle, but you have somewhat redeemed yourselves with that really great scene. If only my mother had been awake to see it. Always falls asleep when something gay related happens... I seem to have a very specific focus when it comes to Grey’s these days.

I'm Lauren and I accept!

I’m also liking the Teddy/Sick-Guy thing provided it doesn’t turn into an Izzy/Denny thing because that was annoying. Like she wouldn’t have been fired... I can’t walk into a hospital and be like “Woops! Cut a wire... my bad!” AND SHE KNOWS WHAT THE WIRES DO! Okay, I just didn’t like Izzy. Sue me.

And voila! Another day down.

Lauren.

Psych and Babies

It was a long-ass day. But it ended on a good note. I don’t know that I’ll ever have the opportunity to say this again, but we watched a movie in my psychology class that I actually enjoyed. Because I will argue that it’s impossible not to enjoy. The movie? Babies. You know... the documentary type thingy where this film crew follows four babies from birth until their first steps. It’s just... absolutely, ridiculously, adorable.

It was really interesting to see how babies are raised in different cultures around the world. What I found particularly interesting was the amount of crap babies seem to “require” in the Western world. The African baby didn’t have the material goods the others did, but that kid looked so happy. Actually... he may have been the baby who laughed the most. Which I think makes a pretty powerful statement about our society. Should I ever have children, I’ve already told my parents that they are not to buy them stuffed toys. Dust collectors!

But back to the movie and my favourite parts. If you watch, it’s just about the most fantastic thing ever. I wasn’t able to find the clip of this part on youtube but it is worth watching. The Japanese baby was playing with rings and was trying to put a stick through them. She’d manage to get the ring on the stick, but the ring would always slide off. She tried over and over again eventually throwing the rings away when she got frustrated. She was crying, kicking and flailing on the floor and I swear. if there were subtitles, she would have been screaming “WHY IS LIFE SO HARD! WHY DOESN’T ANYTHING EVER WORK OUT!” It was amazing. Poor thing. It was hilarious, but poor thing nonetheless.

My other favourite part was with the American baby. She was in this class with a bunch of other babies and parents. They were all singing this horrible hippy tune about Mother Earth or something... She just gets up, walks out of the circle, makes for the door and starts pulling on it, no doubt trying to escape. I would have been right there with her. That or I would have thrown up on my mom forcing her to leave and take me with her.

It’s a really cute movie. If you like kids at all, you will not be able to keep a straight face. I don’t know if it’s just me but I did feel like it was getting long after a while. It may be because I was in a late class. There’s also not much dialogue. It’s very much focused on the babies. Although, if you’re anything like me, you’ll add your own dialogue and subtitles, which is just as amusing.

Lauren.

I'm Here! A tale of embarrassment

Have any of you missed my moments of total embarrassment? Those moments that can only be termed “Lauren Moments”? I haven’t written about them in a long time. Truth be told, nothing really ‘Laurenesque’ has happened for a while. Until today. Today I got my regular amount of embarrassment along with back payments.

I was having coffee with Mel in the cafeteria on the first floor of the school. I should have known I would lose track of time and be late for my class. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. I ended up cutting her off midway through her story (so rude, I know) and taking off. I only had one minute to get to class if I was going to be on time and of course, my class was on the third floor. Did I mention I was carrying my book bag, coat, my half-full (not half empty) coffee, and a stainless steel bowl in bag? Yeah, I was carrying all that.

So, made it to the class and I was late. Big surprise there. Another shocker? This class is set up so the door is behind the professor and the classroom is ahead of the prof. There was absolutely no way I could sneak in and quietly sit in the back short of owning an Invisibility Cloak. Unfortunately my Invisibility Cloak is at the drycleaners. Also, all the seats near the front, except for those directly beside the prof, were taken. Off to the back of the room I went, still carting all my crap. As I was walking by the projector screen, the bowl swung against it and this really very obnoxiously loud PING! rings out. Stupidly, I tried tipping the bowl to prevent further ping-age. Which was good. Until I remembered my damn coffee cup was in that hand, half-full (not half-empty) and was currently spilling coffee all over the floor. Naturally, I just had to loudly mutter “Just friggin’ brilliant”. Finally, I made it to the back of the class, sat down and got my things in order as quietly as possible. Because no one knew I was there by that point. As it turns out, I was also sitting in the squeaky chair. You know, the one chair that squeaks if your ass dares to move a millimetre? After that, my prof had to get up twice to hand me sheets I’d missed because I was late and the girl next to me ended up kicking the bowl, causing another loud PING! I muttered an apology and refused to look at her.

Does it end there? No. No it does not. Class ended without any other incidents. We were released and upon exiting the room, I came across a friend sitting in the hall. We started chatting and talking about all the stuff we had to read. I started complaining about the book list and how I would never get through it even if I wanted to try that hard. Naturally, my professor was about five feet away in an office with the door open.

In conclusion I say: Here’s to overachievers! Not only did I put my foot in my mouth, I crammed it down my throat too. Oh... the dark side of overachieving. Thank God I can laugh at myself.

Oh, I forgot. A colleague from one of my various extra-curricular activities has started a blog. If you have any burning sex related questions, (I mean that figuratively, if it burns you should probably go to the doctor's) scamper over to Between the Sheets with Elle. I don't know exactly what she has planned for the long run, I'm guessing Q&A at some point, but she's got some stuff up that may be of interest to you.

Lauren.

History Girl Version 2.0

What I did today... well, I can tell you the best part was therapy. I love post-Christmas therapy. That's not sarcasm by the way. There's nothing like a good vent after being forced to keep your mouth shut around relatives you'd love to strangle.

The venting was lovely. I thoroughly enjoyed it. And then we got to a topic I'm not fond of: History Girl Version 2.0.

Angela: So, do you think we can go four weeks?

Lauren: Four weeks? Whoever shall I talk to?

Angela: But you're okay. So, four weeks?

Lauren nonchalantly: Sure, I'm already on to my next straight girl crush so I'll have plenty to keep me entertained.

Angela: How do you know she's straight.

Lauren: Well, there's the fact that I'm attracted to her.

Angela: That doesn't mean she's straight.

Lauren: Been right about six times now. It's faultless science.

Angela: One day... you will find someone.

Lauren: I know. One day I'll throw a rock and actually hit a lesbian. And then I'll be like 'holy shit! I just hit you with a rock!' And then she'll think I'm a jackass who throws rocks at people.

Angela: You're okay Lauren.

Lauren: I know. See you in four weeks!


That's pretty much how it went down. I know History Girl 2.0 isn't the best name ever but since I've developed a series of crushes on girls in my history classes, I feel that they should have serialised names. She's 2.0 because aside from one other girl, the other crushes have been pretty insignificant. And that's what's going to keep me occupied for the next four months or so. Unless she does something awful. Which I kind of hope she does. Since she's straight, it'll save me a couple of months.

I have such a positive outlook! I won't be throwing rocks at anyone either... in case anyone was worried.

Lauren.

Back to School... Again.

Why do fresh sheets that smell of vanilla and lavender lead to an amazing night’s sleep? Oh, who cares. I slept so well last night I’m tempted to have a party. Alas, I have no more time for party throwing. Today’s the last day of our Christmas break. I like the freedom but I need the routine. The problems I face...

So, school tomorrow... what can I expect? Well, I can already say that term is starting off great. In an attempt not to pay the university any more money, I thought it would be brilliant to scan some articles I’d need and have my mom print them on her super duper printer at work. Yeah... it took about two hours to scan everything and format everything. Then when I went to send the files to my mom’s email, her work firewall stopped me. Dammit. Just to spite my school, I think I’ll have the articles printed at Staples. It’ll probably be cheaper anyway. Take that school! I deny you the privilege of charging me for every little thing... bastards. And they do charge us for every little thing; parking, debit machines, use of a locker, printing, photocopying, books, tuition, incidental fees, graduation fees... blah, blah, blah. Bastards. I actually have to pay the “graduation fee” when I get back. When I found out about this fee I believe my response was something along the lines of: “You’re charging me to be here and you’re charging me to leave?” The woman just smiled and muttered about a gown cleaning fee. I really don’t need a gown... I’m more of a pants kinda gal.

Isn’t it odd how the word ‘fee’ is one letter short of the word ‘free’? I think they should put the ‘r’ back in there rather than adding an ‘s’ at the end. Then again! How could we possibly remain a society of elites if everyone really had a right to an education? Oh no! Are my socialist tendencies showing? Cover that up again real quick... sorry about that. I am so embarrassed. Not really.

Poof! That rant came out of nowhere. Is anyone surprised after yesterday? My mind is a deep, twisted mine filled with all sorts of unusual gems, some not quite as bright as others. Isn’t that a loaded metaphor? I’m a little bit pleased with it.

Anyway, enough babbling for today.

Lauren.

Anything for Faberry

Alright, I got bored. That’s the only excuse I have for the supremely random shit that follows. You know when you just want something a little random and a little challenging to get the creative juices flowing? Is that just me? No one answer that question. So here’s some random words I’ve collected from spam detectors and some random pictures I found amusing. I don’t know why I thought of doing this, but let’s weave them all into an incredibly messed up story shall we? WARNING! SUPER RANDOM!

Once upon a time, there was a wonderful though sometimes frightening land known only as Lauren’s Mind. On that day, Lauren suffered an extreme attack of boredom and decided to take a leisurely stroll through her imagination, just to get up and get moving. She came across many things she could not explain and even more things that should have shocked her but didn’t. After a while, she grew tired and decided to take a break in the large castle just down the Yellow Brick Road. In reality, the path was only painted gold... even in her wildest dreams Lauren couldn’t afford solid gold bricks. She’d been forced to cheap out and buy regular bricks and spray paint them instead. Still, she skipped merrily along, as she was prone to doing, and pushed open the large door. After wandering aimlessly, again, as she was prone to doing, she came across a very large room with a chair placed in front of a tall scratching post. It was then that she realized she’d intruded on the most powerful wizard in her Mind.

“What are you doing here?” the Wizard with no name because he was just that powerful, demanded.

“I got bored,” Lauren replied.

“What would you like me to do about it?”

“I dunno. You’re the wizard.”

“Well how the hell should I know what you find entertaining?” the Wizard snapped. Lauren simply stared at him, slouching in her chair, picking at her fingernails. “Okay fine! How about I get Rachel and Finn back together on Glee! Will that satisfy you?”

Rather than straining her vocal chords to answer such a ridiculous question (I mean really, did the Wizard no read her blog?) Lauren casually waved her hand causing a giant sign to descend from the ceiling flashing the following message.


“Faberry! I don’t think so. That requires too much effort.”

“I have a proposition,” Lauren told him. The Wizard seemed intrigued and said:

“I’ll give you definitions for those words you’ve been struggling over and you give me my Faberry.”

“I’ll see what I can do. The definitions?” Lauren sighed.

“Paterpru: Latin root. A prudent father wielding his authority over his children.

In a sentence: Josie faced some serious paterpru when she got home two hours after curfew.

Stingle: a) unpleasant sensation when something stings and tingles at the same time. Like when your foot or hand falls asleep. a) Potential couple name for persons with Stevens and Pringle as last names.

In a sentence: “God that stingle feels weird!” OR “Aw... did you see Stingle today? They are so cute!”

Phytox: toxic chemical injected into human phalanges in order to prevent crooked fingers and toes.

In a sentence: I have to get monthly Phytox injections! I don’t want my hands getting gnarly as I age!”

Lauren crossed her arms, pleased with her work. The furry Wizard nodded along.

“Alright... I will definitely try to get you some Faberry,” he said.

Pleased with her accomplishment, Lauren returned home, no longer bored. The blog post that resulted from her journey was without doubt the strangest yet.

Right... like I said. I was bored. Umm... also, should any actual Pringles and Stevens’ be dating, if people start calling you Stingle, I am truly sorry. Random Quota: FILLED.

Lauren.

Small Things and the Ultimate Chocolate Cake

In case I ever doubted that small things could add up to become something a little more substantial, my father has forever eliminated that doubt. My dad used to be in the army and I’m assuming that’s how he got a hold of the cardboard tube thingy that apparently used to house a massive-ass artillery casing. What does it house now? Change.

I’m not being philosophical. It houses change as in money, coins. When he gets home at the end of the day, he empties his pockets and drops all his change into the tube-thingy. When the New Year comes around, he dumps the whole tube out, rolls all the coins it, counts it up and brings it to the bank.

How much change did he accumulate in one year? A mere 1159$. I have no idea how he does it. I also have a change jar, but it never gets even remotely close to that high.

I pity the people at the bank. I swear they must cringe when they see my dad coming in with a plastic bag.

Aside from that, I mentioned this yesterday, I think I have found the ultimate chocolate cake. I wanted to make something for my professor, the unnamed one, as a thank you. She said she liked chocolate and that’s where I began my search. I finally came across a recipe requiring about 21 ounces of chocolate for a single cake. It’s pretty chocolaty and somewhat like a brownie. The cake itself has 8 ounces of melted chocolate and another eight of cocoa powder. The glaze has 5 ounces of melted chocolate. But that’s not all! There’s also about a third of a cup of brandy in it!

Because I never give people food without trying it first and I’d never made this recipe before, I decided to do a trial run. I picked up the wrong kind of chocolate but thankfully, apparently semisweet and bittersweet chocolate can be pretty close to the same thing. If the batter had been too bitter, I only would have had to add sugar. Luckily, it was fine and I didn’t have to adjust anything. At last, the batter was done. I lined my pan with wax paper, greased it and then found out the damn pan was too small. The importance of reading baking instructions... I dug out a bigger pan, lined it, greased it and dumped the batter in. Problem? The wax paper from before was clinging to the batter. I was covered in chocolate by the time I got the paper out and added the rest of the batter. I put the damn thing in the oven where it stayed for about five minutes until I realized that the pan had to be in another pan filled with water. So after all of that, I had to refrigerate the damn thing for six hours wrapped in paper... Lotsa work, but it’s really, really good. Yay for test runs!

Now I have to do it again.

Lauren.

Glee Question and Grey's Rant

I was a little sad that I couldn’t rant about Glee this week. Although, now that I’m on the topic of Glee, I actually do have something to say. I have become a fanfiction addict though more specifically a Faberry freak. I think part of the appeal is that it seems so unlikely for the show and it’s really interesting to see how various writers bring Rachel and Quinn together. The point of all of this is that I’ve noticed some cross-fic similarities and I don’t know if it’s because of the show or because of the online community.

Therefore, I feel the need to call on the Gleeks of the world! I picked Glee up late and I still haven’t seen some episodes. Gleeks, please help satisfy my curiosity.

While pregnant, or maybe not... does Quinn have bacon cravings? Everyone seems to be agreed on this point. Internet or show?

That’s pretty much the only question I can think of right now. I don’t know why but it’s the only thing I’m really curious about.

Okay, that covers Glee. Now on to my Grey’s rant. About time I get to see a new episode. So here it goes. I heart Karev. The only thing that could have possibly made his scene with Stark any better would have been a full body tackle. That’s what I’m rooting for next week. Also, YAY CHRISTINA FOR FINALLY PULLING HER HEAD OUT OF HER ASS AND STICKING HER HAND IN SOMEONE’S CHEST! Ugh! God willing her issue has been resolved and I won’t have to watch her whine anymore. And now on to Callie and Arizona because let’s face it, you knew it was coming. I’m torn.

On the one hand, I think Callie should be the one kissing Arizona’s ass. She pretty much craps on her dream. Sleeps with some dude. Slams the door in her face when she gives everything up for her, then calls her selfish. I really do believe that in life there are things that we as people have to do. There are once in a lifetime opportunities and I don’t think it’s wrong to seize them. I find that if you don’t, later they become those hugely regretted “what if” moments. If you’re lucky you don’t end up resenting whoever you humoured for holding you back. And look, she went, she experienced it and came back knowing what she wanted.

The part where I’m torn is because I know what it feels like to have someone rip your heart out, feed it through a shredder and should it get stuck, jam the rest of it through by stabbing at it with a stick. So I get it from that point of view. I would probably be angry and hurt too... but I guess I also believe in loving someone enough to let them go. So... if I’m going to choose a side... Arizona wins. Callie’s an ass. They need to just work it out and get back together. That will make me happy and that is what must be done. TV people! Go forth and do my bidding. Hurrah for vicarious lesbianism!

Aside from watching TV, I baked the most intense cake EVER. I’ll explain more later. Just know that it was absolutely insane.

Arizona rules. Callie sucks.

Lauren.

One Book Down and Pigeons

Dana bought me a book for Christmas. It got here yesterday. I started reading it almost immediately. It’s now sitting on my bedside table, with a bookmark at the very end. I finished it but there’s an interview with the author I want to read. The story was very sweet and very relatable and it upset me more than I want to admit. Good book. I don’t mind when books upset me. I guess I should say parts of the book upset me. I don’t know that I could read a book that upset me from beginning to end without relief.

I wasn’t expecting the homophobia to bother me as much as it did. I was expecting homophobia because it’s an LGBT book, but how silly it was just baffled me. I’m thinking it was intentionally silly... but I did notice that it was copyright thirty years ago so I’m wondering if it was realistic for the eighties. Basically, when the main character gets busted with her girlfriend (outside of school) the rather uptight principal and her secretary try to get her expelled.

What I liked most about it though was how honest the characters are with each other. Their relationship develops out of a friendship. And while they’re together, they’re still individuals which I thought was refreshing. I find that in a lot of books lately, characters get into these relationships and suddenly there is no ‘I’, they always operate in terms of the ‘we’. The other thing I liked is that they don’t label themselves. They just fall in love, they’re just together. It’s when the shit hits the fan that they’re forced to say: yeah, I’m gay. I suppose in my idealist universe I think that’s how it should be. Labels shouldn’t matter nearly as much as they do. But as humans we seem to need them...

And that’s my review for Annie on my Mind. Worth a read.
It was a quiet day, mostly spent reading and thinking. I’m pretty sure I could do to think a lot less. Since I didn’t have anyone to talk to about my thoughts, I resorted to something I’ve been doing for a bit. I write letters. It’s kind of like a diary, the stuff I don’t want to post here. The letter is kind of long, it’s a depressing, but I feel better.


Which is why I was grateful for the laugh my sister provided. She has a bit of a war going on with some pigeons that have nested on the roof outside her window. I found the following note on the kitchen counter.

Dad,

The Devil Birds are back on my roof!!
Can you please find a PERMANENT way to make them go AWAY!
Their cooing makes me want to take my own hearing away.

I hate them!

I could just picture her saying it. I laughed and laughed. And when I asked her if I could put it on my blog she seemed so pitiful as she tried to justify it. Judging by her reaction I’d say the pigeons are winning the battles and the war.

Lauren.

Reading for Haters

So I spent the majority of today reading. I know, I lead such an exciting life. I sorted through my research. Two sources are completely useless. Thank goodness I didn’t have to inter-library loan them. I’d have been annoyed. Yeah, when I was complaining about the super suckage of our library, I wasn’t exaggerating. I’ve ordered about five articles already. I’m waiting to see if I have to order the books...

Apart from that fascinating task, I can’t even talk about it because I can actually see people’s eyes glaze over when I so much as mention it, I’m reading three other novels. Two for class, one for fun. I should be focusing more on the school ones... but I can’t help it. The for fun one is... conversational. It’s not written with the elevated style of an English professor or the far more complex style of nineteenth century England. I love them both but young adult fiction requires less work to read though it can be equally complex. Call it instant gratification if you will.

What do I love most about books? The escape. I’m an escapist reader as I suspect most readers are. When I was reading books in high school, I read mostly for the characters. Instead of physical friends who generally pissed me off, I had Elizabeth Bennett, Jane Eyre, Hermione Granger, Anna Karenina, the girls from the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants. Now that I’m more comfortable with my solitude I read for the setting as much as for the compelling characters. (Hyperbole alert!) Living here is like suffering the world’s slowest ever suffocation. (I warned you.) I love being able to go back in time, cross oceans, see inside cultures I haven’t even really imagined, all while sitting in my bed, in my PJs. Best of all, no wait times, layovers or invasive security. In Annie on my Mind, the YA book I’m reading, Liza is at a different museum or... I don’t even know what they’re called... boroughs? of New York in every chapter. Every chapter! We barely have suburbs here, forget boroughs and museums. Since I’m going to be living in this house, on this same street for another year and a half minimum, I thank God I have books and can read.

It probably sounds lame and sad on some level, but that doesn’t make it any less true. It bugs the crap out of me when people say that they hate reading. They so clearly don’t get it. It’s like they’re bashing something they don’t even remotely understand. Reading and words... it’s like the rush of feelings you get when you hear a really great song jammed together with the satisfaction of having been challenged and having completed something.

I got really passionate there for a second and forgot where I was going with that... I get this way when I’m reading something I’m enjoying or something that’s challenging me. In the case of these three books, it’s a little bit of both. I have to say, for me, few things are as frustrating or gratifying as a book that truly makes me think.

Tell that to the haters.

Lauren.

Remote Possession

Another uneventful day. I don’t think I did anything significant. Mostly I hid from people because they’re bothering me. Clearly this is a sign that I have to go back to school. That or the people have to go away. Like... go back to work. Soon.

On a more random note, has anyone ever owned a possessed remote control? HOW DO YOU FIX IT? Can I perform an exorcism? Do I need to bring in someone to perform it? Will simply changing the batteries help? Do I need to buy a new remote? Someone must know. I just want to watch TV!

I pushed the magic guide button and started looking through the wide array of wonderful programs I could watch. That’s my extremely sarcastic way of saying there was nothing on and I was looking for something mildly interesting. I was scrolling up by page when all of a sudden it just kept going, and going and going until I finally got it to stop. I’d seen Big Bang Theory several pages down and tried scrolling back to it. It went down and down and down, right passed Big Bang. I angrily pushed the button to go back up. It kept going up into the porn I can't even access. I tried getting back down to Big Bang (I think that deserves a HA! as it follows my porn comment) but the damn thing just kept on cruising, went through the French channels and into the descriptive video options.

At that point I just threw the remote toward my mom, oddly pleased when it landed on the floor. After some serious manoeuvring my mom was able to get my show on. What sucks is that Big Bang is only a half hour show. She went to bed and left me to deal with the electronic equivalent of Satan. I had to go through a similar ordeal once Big Bang ended, only this time I didn’t last nearly as long. When the screen started going back up for the second time, I caught the channel number and spent a minute or so jamming the cancel button to get out of the menu. From there everything was fine. I’m happily watching a rerun and I will not be changing the channel. It’s just not worth the risk or the effort.

Why is nothing ever easy?

Lauren.

Closed Door, Open Window

So, I’ve been hanging around, reading, writing, watching a lot of TV... not really doing anything interesting. All I did today was finish up chapter five of my book. Short of posting it here (which I won’t) there’s not a whole lot I can say on that.

What shall I say...

OH! Okay, I’m watching the Sound of Music again with my parents. We just got a big TV so we’re watching all our movies over again just to see how cool they look now that the people on screen are roughly our size. It’s not really that big.

The point of that ramble... I just realized that the expression “When God closes a door, he opens a window” makes no sense. The point of going out the door is to leave buildings in one piece. Doors are usually at ground level and usually have some form of platform that enables people to walk through them. Windows on the other hand can be on various stories of buildings and don’t typically allow people to walk through to another space. Even if the window is on the ground floor, you still have to contort your body to climb through it, provided of course that it’s big enough to begin with. And what if the windows are too high? If you climb through them, you fall and best case scenario your most serious injury is a broken arm. Or is the window open merely to taunt? Like, you can stick your head out and see where you might have gone had the door not closed, but you can’t participate. You’re stuck Rapunzel style. Does that then mean we’re supposed to wait for our hair to grow and some dude on a horse to come save us? Because that too is problematic. Rapunzel’s hair grows at a more rapid rate than other humans due to a spell. On top of which and depending on which version you read, the dude doesn’t save her right away, he just has sex with her a bunch of times, never taking her away with him. Now we’re sex slaves? How depressing.

You see where I’m going with this right? Clearly we all have to learn to run really fast so we can get through the door before it closes OR we have to learn to bust doors down by kicking them in. I think this should be learned in gym class. As you can see, it would prevent a whole host of problems such as unnecessary injuries requiring the use of paramedic assistance (which would of course raise our taxes), insanity, suicide, slavery and sexual exploitation. None of which are funny.

I hereby change the expression to: “When God closes the door, kick that sucka down! Don’t go for the window!” That’s my bit of good for today.

A little off topic, but if you can watch the Sound of Music at 1.5 times faster for the song 16 Going on 17, it sounds like Liesl is being sung to by a goat boy. Which amuses me.

Lauren.

If I Had Millions of Dollars

The lottery is up to fifty million. I didn’t buy a ticket. But I find myself wondering: What would I do with fifty million dollars? Prior to today, I didn’t really know beyond finishing up school and travelling. But there’s only so much I schooling I can stand and only so much I can travel. What happened today to solve my query? My parents woke me up to visit my grandma and then took me for supper with my aunt. I haven’t been alone all day. I haven’t been home all day. Too much other people time.

So, if I ever won an obscene amount of money, I think I would commence what I will now call my “Island Project”. I think I might have mentioned this before, but the project is constantly in development. I drew out the current plan in Paint.

First, I would buy two islands. Nothing extravagant. One big enough for me and a smaller one for my extremely important staff. Yep, I’ve arranged for the staff to have an island too.

I would live on the big island near the little pond thingy. In the pond would be some form of man eating fish. I originally thought crocodiles would be cool but they come on land and I don’t want to have to deal with that. Back to sharks or piranhas or something along those lines. As you can see, the guest houses are a far away from my house. That way when I get sick of people, I don’t have to see them. Also note, there are only three, ‘cause three ‘families’ represents the maximum amount of people I can tolerate at one time. I also arranged to have my own landing strip and helicopter pad should people wish fly in. Cool eh?

My staff would live on the other island where there would be the airport control crap, missile base and of course, living quarters. Oh, were you stuck on missile base? Yeah... I decided I don’t want people surprising me or getting any bright ideas about mooching so anyone unauthorized would be shot down. Survivors would then be questioned by trained professionals and tossed into my shark/piranha pool if they were sufficiently irritating. I was debating having an aquatic minefield of sorts but decided the ring of large jagged rocks would be sufficient.

Hehehe, let’s see my family come over for Christmas now! Mwahahaha! (Lauren pets cat)

I think I’ve been watching a little too much James Bond lately... my dad got the DVD box set for Christmas... I may also have people issues. I think I’ll bring that up next time I see Angela.

I’m kidding by the way. And even if I weren’t I would give plenty of warning before shooting anyone down... I’m Canadian after all. We pride ourselves on being polite.

Lauren.

New Years!

HEY!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Two years ago at midnight, I was on the corner of Mulligan St. with Paul after escaping the New Years Feast. Last year at midnight, as I’m sure some of you remember, I was elbow deep in dirty dishwater/food trying to unclog a sink after the New Years Feast. This year, I did not set foot in a Chinese food restaurant, though my parents did order Chinese. So much better when you just get to eat it. Rather than making Chinese food and running around like a lunatic, I’ve been watching movies most of the day.

Easy A: could have been better. Some funny parts, gets kind of long, eventually starts to border on stupid. Lisa Kudrow’s character pissed me off. If that ever happened in reality, the repercussions would make Chlamydia seem pleasurable.

The American: meh. It bored me. Also, WTF? they call him Mr. Butterfly. Reminds me of the really gay guy from I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. Imagine that as an assassin/hitman/whatever.



Despicable Me: cute. Not quite as funny as expected but still entertaining. I would have peed myself laughing if they’d broken out into a verse of Soft Kitty. If you watch it or have seen it, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Salt: I liked it. I was surprised. It was intense from beginning to end and had more plot than is common for similar action movies. Go Angelina. Kicking ass and taking names.

So, on that note, happy New Year to everyone! Hope 2011 is a good year for everyone. I don’t do resolutions, but I’m not opposed to hearing about yours if you feel like sharing.

Lauren.