Monday, October 24, 2011


Scene:  Driving with my brother, Ray, & my mom. Listening to the 90's station on xm radio. Song comes on with techno beat & Guatemalan flutes.

Ray: *starts singing Catholic Church hymn*
Me: ...what are you doing?
Ray: This song has Catholic Monks singing on it.
*Catholic Priests begin singing*
Me: ...what? This is so weird. What's happening?
*As part of song, women whispering in French, flutes, techno beat, & Catholic Priests still sounding*
Ray: The 90's were a tough time, Lauren.
Me: How do you even know this song?
*sounds of whales join song*
Ray: Mom used to have this CD.
Mom: I never had this CD.
Ray: Yeah you did. & the music video was all coyotes running through the desert & waterfalls.

You used to play this & the Enya CD all the time when we lived in Virginia.
Mom: Oh yeah! That trip where Lauren threw your shoes out of the car window.
Ray: ...& then I got beat.
Mom: *laughs*
Me: Wait, did that really happen?
Ray: You were always getting me beat when you were little. If you didn't like the taste of your cereal, I got beat.
Me: Ha!
later on, my brother, mom, Solo, & I sat down to dinner where I relayed this conversation to Solo.
My brother promptly found the song on his phone & played the first 30 seconds or so before turning it off & saying, "Well, if you can imagine another 4 minutes of that, that's the song."

Thursday, October 20, 2011

I said

I am not taking my life seriously enough, I said.

Fatty has lately been doing this thing where she'll end sentences with, "I said."
I'm almost positive that every time she does this, she's never actually said the thing she's claiming to have already said.
I asked her once if she were narrating herself.
"Maybe I am, Maybe I'm not."
This could all be a clever Fatty ruse to see how much attention I pay when we talk.
Or she could be a mumbler.
Or she might be narrating herself.

Anyway, I was just narrating myself. Just then. That first sentence.

Because that's how serious I am about this.
That concept deserves narrating.
I am not taking my life seriously enough.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

TMFFS: Running Shit

A friend of mine, Bammy, is expecting.

Today, the fab4 suggested names for said fetus via facebook:

Me: tequoia shaquille or d'evantre shaquille (the middle name is unisex).

Bammy: you are on meth!

Fatty: I will call it Shaq either way.

Bammy: No!!!!

Krusts: No no, shaquita or lavonte.

Fatty: So many options!

Me: Bammy, you are loved. We are all pulling together to come up with the absolute worst names, evar. It's all for you, friend, it's all for you. ♥

...& also: shaquita sounds like taquito. In honor of this conversation, I'm going to name my first born taquito; don't steal it, Bammy!

Fatty: We. Are. Funny.

Bammy: Didn't know ya'll were hitting the dewbie during break!!! I think we have this covered. No help needed. But I'll let you guys know!!!
& poor taquito. Can you give the boy a normal middle name so he can get a job?

Me: taquito shaquille

Fatty: taquito IS normal in San Antonio.

Krusts: Shoot, with a name like taquito he won't need a job!

Bammy: So then what is he going to do, Krusts?

Krusts: He'll run the game, duh! I'm not sure what the game is but I hear lil wayne talk about it so it must be legit.

Bammy: lol, Oh OK!


these are my friends, you guys.

Without a dope beat to step to

I'm sorry that my posting has been a lot less frequent and a lot more sporadic than it was over the summer months.
It's weird: I waste so much time but still am always prevented from doing things I'd like by guilt over the fact that I have things I'm supposed to be doing. Mainly studying. Or slutting it up with Solo. Or doing whatever inane work Solo finds for me as his album release draws nearer (yeah, I'm looking at you!).  Essentially, I'm too busy being guilty about all the things I'm not getting done to actually get anything accomplished.

I have a really great post I'm working on.
It's going to be long.
Full of words.
Seriously, it's going to be some poignant shit.

But, as of now, it's still in the draft phases.

In the mean time, I'd like to say that when I'm on my period, everything pisses me off.
For example, in my 8am course, a student up front was wearing a clown shirt. Like the kind from French films.
This tormented me for the entire two hours.
I was enraged.
How dare she wear a French clown shirt to school!

What an ass hole.

Why this upset me so, I'm still not sure.

Anyone considering law school as a next step or option for the future, be warned: these people will not tell you when your clothes are stupid. Trust no one. These people are out of touch with reality.

I'd like to conclude this shitty post with the following:
I acknowledge that it has been a long time & I shouldn't have left you, without a dope beat to step to, step to...

Thursday, October 6, 2011


Once upon a time, I sent Fatty a text that said nothing but Bee Eff Eff.
It was supposed to be the phonetic spelling of BFF.
Fatty texts me back & is all, "what about it?"
& I'm all, "what about what?"
& she's like, "beef."
& I'm like, "No, I was calling you bff. Not talking about beef."

& so we chanced upon our first best friend nickname; ever since, we've started almost all our texts, conversations, and addressed any and all birthday cards to each other as beef. It's also the caption on most of the pictures we take together.

Anyway. So Fatty has this other best friend, Kitty. Kitty's cool.
She's engaged to this really tall, burly guy. & over lunch the other day, I said, "It's weird to me that Kitty met her fiancee online. She's a pretty girl."
& Fatty was like, "You're so dumb! Kitty didn't meet him online! They met in Vegas! My chicken's really spicy: taste this."
& I said, "I swear you told me they met online. That is spicy."
& Fatty starts cracking up. I don't know why she's laughing. But she's laughing really hard, so hard people are starting to look, so hard that I'm starting to feel uncomfortable. So I ask, "What's so funny, damnit?"

& Fatty's like, "A lot of times I laugh because in my mind, I make up a story. So you said that you thought Kitty met her guy online & I was just imagining her online profile: turn ons--house music, turn offs--man boobs."
This made Fatty laugh even harder.

Later on, via facebook, I told her:
I'm going to set up a fake account as you on
Interests: Pickled garlic, ironing, making dolls out of hair.
Dislikes: Reality shows about birthing.

& she said: But I don't even like to iron.

& I then said: Oh, but you like pickled garlic & hair dolls?

& she said: Ha! & you call yourself my beef.

She cracks me up everyday.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011


I've always, for as long as I can remember, loved October.

I am in love with this month.

I spend all year thinking about October and I adore every second that I'm allowed to live while it's October.

I hope I die on November 1st (in the non-foreseeable future, obvi) because I love October that much.

I guess I've always been quirky.
I absolutely adore the macabre.
Bats, Ghosts, Monsters. <--Every year, I buy at least one thing that I'm going to keep in my house as decoration that's Halloween themed. I almost bought a plush little bat pillow from target the other day.

It's so cute, I might get it anyway. Just for fun.

Anyway. I was trying to trace back my love of this month. 

I thought for a moment of watching Beetlejuice cartoons on Saturday mornings, or when I first saw the Nightmare before Christmas. 

But after some deep consideration, I realized I've always loved October because:

I'm just going to come out & say--my family has from time to time been pretty fucked up.

To say my parents' marriage was, by any stretch of imagination, a happy one would be a LIE. 
To say my brother & I were ever close before 2010 would be a LIE.

But we always came together in October. 

To me, October is memories.

It's when my parents would turn our fold out couch into a bed and cover it in pillows and blankets and the four of us would curl up together in the dark and fall asleep watching scary movies. 

It was my parents' matching cavemen costumes that they'd wear while they passed out candy in our front yard. 

It was camping trips.

It was the one time every year when I'd get to spend the whole night with my big brother & we'd trick or treat.

It was candy apples & my dad taking me to the circus.

It was dumping out our candy onto the carpet and sorting through our treasures together. Mom & Dad would pick out the ones they wanted & my brother & I always shared. 

It was when my mom would bake pumpkin pie. It was trying every year to bake pumpkin seeds but consistently failing.

In Germany, it was when we'd pick apples together and go to the farm far away to pick one big pumpkin to bring home & carve. I still remember falling in the mud every year because my boots would get stuck in the thick mess. 

I could go on. But I think what I'm saying is that October was the one time every year when I could count on my family to be a family. & I love that. 

To this day, I still get excited when grocers put out their big bins full of pumpkins. Or when I catch the scent of pumpkin pie scented candles at department stores. 
I just get overly enthusiastic about this time of the year, & I hope you'll forgive the next 25 days of me rambling about haunted houses and scary movies and scary television shows and blah! I love October!

But I've loved October even before then