Love is a funny word.

I say it to my family. I say it to some friends. I say it to my dog. I say it about my favorite restaurant. I don't say it to myself.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this problem.

As a single lady with a lot of interests, I find myself more and more spread thin in terms of time. I say yes to everything whether it be a part in a play, or an errand for work.

This morning I put on a pretty dress, did my hair and make-up, and slipped on some rocking purple high heels. I looked down at myself and felt happy that I had so lovingly chosen an ensemble that made me feel pretty. Then my eyeballs locked onto my toes. With little time for pedicures, the red polish was chipped on both exposed toes, and I decided to remove it and go fresh footed into my work day. But as I removed the layers of lacquer, I noticed that my nails looked like my dad's. Cracked, bruised, damaged, and gnarly, my tootsies looked a little like how I have felt lately. There's no specific reason except that it's the holidays and the single jokes increase in frequency and dig just a little bit deeper at this time of year. Friends and family are moving onward and upward and though I'm ecstatic for them I am bogged down by the fact that I am standing still.

PMS is on hold. My improv career is on hold. My stand up career has yet to begin. My singing career is non-existent, barring a performance scheduled for January. The highlight of my acting career this month is playing a talking sheep in a nativity scene at a church. I feel lost, and I don't like it.

This morning I googled "Nicest Small Towns in America." I started looking for jobs in Black Mountain, NC and Hanover, NH. I'm desperate for a change. A change in job, a change in locale, a change in anything that will take this nagging feeling of panic and pending doom away for just a little bit. I know it's probably a change in me that needs to happen. I've had it pointed out to me ad nauseum.

For now, I'll cover it up with a smile like I covered up my nasty toes with a quick layer of purple potion nail polish. It's a temporary fix, and I know there's more work to be done on both myself and my cuticles. After this weekend, I'll put the effort in and maybe see a change before the birthday of some guy who did something to save some people. Here's hoping.

Bucket of chicken...I mean, bucket list.

A friend of mine recently posted a blog listing all of the items on her bucket list. I was blessed to be with her when she almost died on a flying trapeze (Item #46 on her list.) And it got me to thinking about my own personal bucket list, which is currently non-existent. The lack of a list is strange, as I have always been acutely aware of the fragility of life, having lost several dear family members while at a young age. I've never thought about what I want to do before I die, but have focused mainly on what I have done already should I kick it tomorrow. Here's that list. Let me note that I am in no way trying to brag and make everyone jealous that I am super awesome and cool. BUT I am trying to brag and make everyone jealous that I am super awesome and cool.

I was born.

In three separate instances, broke my nose, arm and paper cut my eyeball.

Have visited almost all 50 states. Still on the list-Wisconsin, Idaho, Hawaii and Alaska. Have traveled to Europe and British Columbia, and Canada, visiting these European countries: Denmark, Germany, Belgium, Austria, The Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Czech Republic.

Seen and done these things: The Little Mermaid Statue, Berlin Wall, St. Charles Bridge, Bergen Belsen, Mozart's Birthplace, Anne Frank House, Praha Opera House (saw Rigoletto), British Columbian Rain Forests, Bungee Jumping, Flew a Cessna, White water rafting on 6 different rivers, hiking in 12 states and 3 countries, parasailing, rollerblading at a Vans Skate Park, went camping at the Red River Gorge, Rock Climbed in North Carolina, did a back country trip for 5 days in the woods, flew on a trapeze and performed a catch.

Performed in:
Deadlock (ha)

Oklahoma!

Fools

Guys and Dolls

Steel Magnolias

Roads (175 shows) Baby with the Bathwater

Naomi in the Living Room

StoryBox

Standprov

Page to Stage

3 years of Shadowbox Shows

A Christmas Carol (2 years)

2 years in a row Rock and Roll Karaoke Semi-finals

Vanities

3 years of Jove Shows

Beauty and the Beast, Really

I'm with Stupid

Performed with-Michael Winslow and Garrett Morris, met Bruce Campbell.
Duffy’s commercial
Labor Finders Video

Wrote a Comic book

Lost 35 pounds

Gained 35 pounds :)

Been on Burn Notice 3 times.

Went to ComicCon

Was interviewed on a podcast.

Met Christopher Moore. Sent him my web comic. Met Jim Butcher.

Published an online comic.

Met Jenna Busch.

Spoke on a panel at a comic book convention.

Took 2 Stand up Classes. Performed my first routine.

Wrote and Produced 4 shows on my own and donated over $3,000 to Gilda’s Club.

So. This is my "have done" list. The bucket list is pending, as I explore further in life what I want to do, be, do, be, do. I'll put the first thing on my list, which will actually be happening in February.

1. Visit New York.

I booked my flight today. JetBlue was having a sale. So, I'll be going in February to see my lovely friend, Tiffany, and to sight see. I may even get up the nerve to move there. We'll see. I only said, "visit" on the list. That may change.

What's on your list?

Tryp(tophan) to the dark side.

My mind is fried as I sit at my desk at work and type this after one hour of sleep. I'm feeling achy muscles in places I haven't for a long time. My eyes are red, with dark black smudges underneath them. Not mascara, but plain ole exhaustion. It was my first Black Friday experience, and it might very well be my last.

Due to excessive brain drain from waking at 8:30AM on Thursday, cooking Thanksgiving dinner for the family, visiting with friends and eating cheese, and Scattergories prior to the main event which lasted from midnight til 6:30 this morning, I will make a list highlighting the best parts of the entire Thanksgiving Day.

1. Waking up in anticipation of the Thanksgiving feast I was about to prepare and learning the turkey was frozen. Solid. A long bath in cool water whilst I watched the Thanksgiving parade remedied this problem, and the meal was a success...if garlic-tastic.

2. Watching the Thanksgiving Parade and mocking the lip syncing, then laughing out loud when poor Scotty Mc-whatever from American Idol missed his cue to start singing for a good minute.

3. Pie for lunch.

4. Phone call between mom, grandma and me to discuss pre-basting or roasting for an hour prior to a baste. Mom bastes. Grandma uses a bag. I wanted to baste per Betty Crocker's directions, but conceded to Mom.

5. Missed my brother and Amanda, but had a great meal with Mom, Pop, Brooke, and Nick who were super lame and "mistakenly" wore matching shirts.

6. Attempting a nap after two glasses of champagne.

7. Driving to Emily and Stephen P's house for cheese, potatoes and nerd talk. Meeting a new friend and hanging with Jess and her pups.

8. Getting to Tiffany's house, eating a strawberry rhubarb parfait, giggling like idiots in her room as if we were teenagers, and the most ridiculous game of Scattergories I've ever played.

9. Blaring Adele as we drove to Target where there was a LINE AROUND THE BUILDING. Subsequently, sitting in car listening to Jessie J. and having a dance party.

10. Entering the melee that was Target and NOT BUYING ANYTHING as the lines went from the back of the store, around to the front, and in between all the makeup aisles. Instead, we picked out movies we would buy for each other (I wanted to get her Big Trouble in Little China as she has NEVER SEEN IT. I honestly don't remember what she wanted to get me as that part of my brain has died.) We ask each other board game questions from the back of boxes as people dash to grab Apples to Apples for $10. We then grabbed a mop and broom and danced in the aisles to the amusement of the shoppers in line. Headed for the accessory area and played characters with different pairs of sunglasses, hats, and scarves.

11. STARBUCKS IS OPEN at 1:30am. We majorly goof off and sing our orders. They laugh. Attempt a faux hawk while sipping a latte.

12. Walk to Kohl's in high spirits. Spend 2 hours there and I learned how to accessorize from the master.

13. Mess with the cashier at Kohl's, and create a theme song for her name.

14. Walk back to Target, at this point completely exhausted and paranoid that we're gonna get mugged.

11. Just checking to see if you're paying attention. That's the WRONG NUMBER.

15. This is the right number. Drop purchases at car, move it closer and GO BACK IN TARGET. We try on clothes. We pick out makeup. We buy things.

16. It's 5am now. Decide to skip Urban Outfitters and go to IHOP. Enter the restaurant, and there is a line. No one will seat us. I noticed lights on at a hole in the wall restaurant on the way to IHOP. Tiff calls them on her 4G iPhone. They're open. We loudly announce to the other waiting parties that Debra's is open and that we're going there. They follow us out.

17. We park our butts on somewhat twirly stools at the chipped counter in Debra's. There is no Debra. But there is a Donna, who is the owner and slings breakfast food with an efficiency and culinary attention that borders on terrifying. Myra, our waitress, has a deep smokers cough that throws me off for a moment. Two cups of weak coffee, eggs perfectly over medium, grits, bacon and toast do it for me. Tiff gets an omelet and hot tea. We contemplate a somewhat famous Peach Cobbler, but Myra is quick with the bill and we head out.

18. Get gas and head for Tiff's house. The morning sun is starting to peek from behind dark clouds. We are zombies, but we hug and gush about the fun we had being ridiculous people during the most ridiculous day of the year.

19. I head home, meet Dad heading out to the links, stumble upstairs and hear the Muppet Theme song an hour later.

20. Brains......

It was fun, but I don't believe I will ever, ever do it again. I'm too old for this crap. My legs hurt. My feet hurt. But, in the end, I guess it's good that my pocketbook doesn't hurt. And I got to spend time with a dear friend who I don't get to see often as she is fabulous and lives in NYC.

I'm thankful for the fact that I am free to make the decision to go and do something that completely silly. I am thankful for friends who see the real me and love me regardless. I'm thankful for a family of jerks who love razzing each other. I'm thankful, for the most part, that I am alive today and able to laugh with all of these nuts. It's precious, this thing called life. Embrace it.

A Bad Mood Spoiled.

Tonight, I was stuck in traffic after a pretty stressful day at work, dressed like a nerd, and running late for an event that I had been asked to attend. I was supposed to get there early, and with bumper to bumper I was panicking and wishing I had left work even earlier that day to make it in time.  I was directed to park down the street from the facility, as the event had already started.  I felt conspicuous in the costume, with large glasses perched on my face, a wool sweater in the balmy Florida air, a bright yellow shirt dress(2 sizes too big, but purchased at Goodwill and worked for the role) and brown Mary Janes with white socks.The ladies passing me were all beautifully dressed for an evening of support and cocktails as we all headed towards the Raising the Roof on Breast Cancer in Women of Color at Gilda's Club, where my mind was blown and my heart was moved.

I entered the large red double doors with cartoon Gilda's on the windows and froze, unsure of what to do.  A kind lady with a name tag directed me to sign in. "I'm supposed to meet Elizabeth...I'm Lauren...I'm playing Emily Litella. I'm doing...something...tonight." The receptionist spotted Elizabeth's arm down the hallway, and I made my way through a gorgeous living room towards her. Elizabeth is a force. She's bubbly and beautiful and immediately grabbed my hand, introduced me to Tamara G., radio host extraordinaire and the evenings emcee, then took us on a whirlwind tour of Gilda's Club. There's a yoga room where patients can relax and also take watercolor classes.  The basement houses toys, books, games, and amazing works of art on the walls where children coping with loss or younger cancer patients come and play. This led to a teen room, with inspirational art work, a giant television, and Guitar Hero set in a hip, lounge type room.

Tamara and I started asking questions about what they do at Gilda's. Elizabeth was quick with an anecdote about a man who fell in a hole. He asked a doctor walking by to help him out.  The doctor wrote some prescriptions, tossed them in the hole and went on his way.  A spiritual adviser walked by, and the man asked him for help in getting out of the hole.  The adviser tossed in a book of prayers and was on his way.  Then the man's friend walked by, and before he could even ask, the friend jumped into the hole with him. "Why did you do that?  We'll never get out!" the man said, furious. The friend looked at him and grabbed his hand.  "I did it because I've been down here before, and I know the way out."  This is the philosophy of Gilda's Club.

After sharing some personal stories about how cancer has effected us all, I was taken back to the front reception area to prepare a short script (about Raising the POOP) for the Emily bit. At 6:45, Elizabeth started the speeches off with an intro...of me. Honestly, I have no idea if my portrayal of Emily was good at all, but it was over in about 20 seconds, and Elizabeth was there with the whole," Ms. Litella, it's Raising the Roof." "Oh...that's different.  Never Mind."

The next woman to speak was the Director of Gilda's, thanking everyone for being there. One woman was introduced (I forget her name at this moment, but I was in a state of overwhelm as she spoke), who had been through treatment for breast cancer and encouraged every woman there to get checked, and to make themselves and their health a priority.  Then another woman prodded everyone to dig in their goody bags and bring out a little hand mirror. Everyone made a pledge to themselves to schedule a mammogram tomorrow. They then took it a step further, and told each of us to reach out to someone we did not know.  A beautiful woman with glasses and close cropped hair pointed at me and said, "You!"  We hooked pinkies and pledged to get ourselves checked. Tears came to my eyes as this stranger grabbed me into the biggest and best hug I've had in a long time. I'm crying now, to be honest. She told another woman about us pinky swearing, and she came up and hooked pinkies and just looked into my eyes with a bright smile on her face.

The rest of the evening was amazing. Music started and everyone was mingling.  I started awkwardly dancing to the music, and a group of ladies just started belly laughing at me and telling me I needed to stop.  I met Julia Bagg, a reporter from NBC Miami who was covering the event, and we had a really fun conversation about being young professional women. I walked into a room and my pinky pals were there, sitting alone on a couch, looking at photos on a camera. "It's my pinky pals!" I yelled, grabbing them. They laughed at me, and then I awkwardly posed for a photo in an Emily Litella manner.

The whole night was amazing, inspiring, and made me want to do anything to help fund this amazing non-profit. The support of the entire staff and the amazing women who attended this event made it a magical evening that opened my eyes to a lot of things.  If you have money, or skills, or time, or anything, you should give it to this worthy organization.

SO. Who's ready for another Jiggles and Giggles?  HMMM?  Anyone?!?!?

What the heck were you doing in Los Angeles? And why are you so weird?

To those who don't follow the many exploits of  Lauren, here is an update on the weirdness that is my life and the reason for my recent trip to Los Angeles. 

In October of 2009, I decided to write a web comic about periods. I was blessed to partner with the amazingly talented and magnificently coiffed Bailee DesRocher, who met a lady named Regina Carpinelli.  Regina was starting her own convention in Los Angeles, that she called Comikaze Expo. We started e-mailing her and she became a fan of PMS Adventures, and asked us to be at her show. We sent her bio goodness and geeky headshots and were added to her list. I then met Regina when I visited LA in July, when she told Bailee and I that there was a viewing of Evil Dead II at the Hollywood Forever cemetery.  It was fate.

The last couple of months since that epic meeting, Regina and I have become friends.  We have our own little nerd chats on facebook into the wee hours of the morning.  She asked if I wanted to help her sell tables for her show.  I did.  She asked if I could edit some text.  I did.  She asked for help designing a schedule. I did. She offered us a table.  We accepted.

And then the day came for me to fly to LA for this convention.  Stan Lee, Elvira, Mark Hamill, Ernest Borgnine-they were all going to be there and I WAS GOING TO MEET THEM ALL. Huzzah!!

I didn't. But what I did do was set up a table in Artist's Alley with my dear friend and work partner, Bailee, where we chatted with person after person about our comic. Young and old, male and female, pre-menstrual and pre-menopause, and realized that the work we are doing spreads across a wider demographic than we anticipated. We saw families of nerds wandering around, huge bags bulging with geek gear and goofy grins on their faces.  We sold gag chocolate bars, gave away business cards, and were basically drained by the end of day one. We went to bed at 9pm that night, to prepare for day two of selling, and of panels!

Comikaze was set up in a way that you could be wandering around, shopping and pass little curtained off areas where the panels were taking place.  At 1 pm in Room Four, we were to join 4 other funny nerd ladies in a panel about being girls and being geeks.  I had renamed our panel (as I was putting together the schedule) to "Ta-Ta's and Trivia", as Bailee and Katie Willert of Cracked.com thought it would be fun to ask the audience silly questions at the end of the panel and give them PMS swag as prizes.  None of  us were prepared for the panel...or the shenanigans that were about to ensue.

We entered Room 4, and all began chatting with the moderator, a lady named Lydia Popovich, writer of the blog Hater Tuesday.  There was some confusion, as Lady Deadpool had been slated to moderate, but she was invited to sit in on the panel. This would prove to make this, my first ever panel at a Comic Book convention, very weird.

The ladies of the panel all took seats to begin the panel. Bailee and I were separated, which ended up being fine.  I was in between Lisa Foiles of All That and Kotaku.com and Emily Gordon of Indoor Kids and Nerdist.  And it was nuts. I've already status updated about the period comment (thanks, Regina!!) But it was so much fun to actually NERD OUT with a bunch of ladies...once we took the mic away from Lady Deadpool. She was way overexcited. And that was fine. Lisa had to run early in the panel to go and meet Elvira (harrumph), but the other 3 ladies, myself, and our moderator ended up having a great time.  We talked about nerdy sexy time experiences, what it was like growing up as nerdy girls, and all the things we love that are geeky. I couldn't think of a better group of ladies to chat with in front of 60+people.  And NO ONE WALKED OUT!  Beautiful.  We asked silly questions and handed out PMS Chocolate Bars.  One gentleman was passing Bailee and I later in the day, and I thanked him for an insightful question he asked to get us on a track that wasn't about our boobs. He and I then ended up talking about our mutual love of Bruce Campbell for 15 minutes.

Bailee and I will probably never have another table at a convention again (unless we make a zillion dollars and have peons to work for us.) But I had a blast.  I met Gonzo, the Muppet. I got 3 autographed books from Christopher Hastings, the author of my favorite web comic, Dr. McNinja.  I met the artist for Deadpool Corps and got a special present for every geek in my family (except Dad. But he doesn't actually like things. I'll just watch a couple of Doctor Who episodes with him and let him do his Dalek impression.  Makes him giggle every time!)

I can't wait for the next convention when I can just wander around, spend too much money, and not have to be tied to a table all day!  UNTIL NEXT TIME!

Everybody hurts...

After my show on Saturday, I was sore for 4 days.  I had dark, black bruises on both knees, and a skinned left foot from getting too into the moment and not protecting my body from prat falls. I'm used to this. I put everything I have into these shows, as I know that in the end it's my baby, and I'll be responsible should the show fail to entertain.   I was joking about this with a friend of mine, and she said something that made me stop and think about myself and who I am (which is never something I want to do.)

That's just gross.

She said, "I worry about you. You're too willing to hurt yourself...not just for comedy...for men, for friends, for strangers...you put your well-being and happiness second to too many things."

Mind officially blown.  I had never thought about that.  And yet, with that short facebook statement (yes, we were on facebook and having this in-depth conversation) she opened my eyes to what really makes me tick.  I've been through some weird times and done things I probably shouldn't have for the benefit of other people or to prove something about myself that didn't need to be proven.  And that needs to stop.

The last few days I've worn my war wounds with pride and shown them off to anyone who has asked me how the show went. "Look," I'm saying. "Look at how COMMITTED I am.  I'm so crazy when I get on stage I can barely walk. Funny, right?"

I guess not. There's something in what my friend said.  Maybe I am too willing to extend myself.  Maybe I do need to protect myself more, and value an unskinned knee and the ability to wear skirts over showing everyone that I am willing to do anything to make people laugh.  And maybe that will happen.

Or maybe I'm gonna face plant to make a drunken bachelorette party giggle.  We'll see how Saturday goes.

As Kermit the Frog says...

..."AAAGGHHH!!!" Imagine me with my arms flailing in the air as I scream and run away.

Monday: Freak out cause we've only sold 12 tickets.  Calm down as advertising kicked in this week. It'll be ok.

Tuesday: Things have gotten busy.  The show is this weekend, and not having the ability to rehearse any of the content with any of the ladies has me freaking out a little bit.  I know it'll be fine. I just can't see the whole thing coalescing yet, and it has me in a bit of a panic mode. But there are some great things, too.  We have two fabulous stand ups, a great group of improvisers, and a magazine who wants to highlight the event.

Wednesday: Look over sketches after hanging out with the family for a little while. I took my print outs into the garage with me and did a half hour of cardio while listening to show music for Jiggles and learning lines. The music pumped me up so much that I started funk walking. If you don't know what this is, you are missing out. Imagine me, in a cut up Shadowbox tee and yoga pants, doing lunges on the treadmill as I power walked, throwing my arms in the air and basically acting like an idiot. Dad came in and saw me.  I was embarrassed.

Thursday:  Last night, as I turned out the light and lay silently in bed, I started creating the opening of the show, while rehearsing the song, my lines and choreography for the Sports Talk sketch, and trying to figure out if we had enough raffle items. Planned to run errands to buy raffle tickets, cds for the sound tech, health food for a sketch, and trying to locate a baby doll that I can spike on stage tonight as well as plotting a costume for the closing number.

Friday: Going to head to Girls Night Out to pass out some fliers and try to enjoy a party to benefit Breast Cancer Research.Will need to get to bed early.

Saturday: Freak out.

So, that's this week in a nutshell.  Along with all that there was a new PMS which made me happy. Also, a job interview for a new and exciting workplace. Things seem to be coming together.  If I can just keep it together!! :)

Vegetarian fail.

I wanted to try to become a vegetarian. I don't know why. The impulse hit me as I was driving through the back roads of Pennsylvania. We were passing farm after farm, and I started contemplating life. What is it that allows us to believe that animals were placed here for our consumption? I also freaked out a little when I read an article stating that hamburger patties were being created in petri dishes. Turkeys were being bred to have larger breast areas and were running around, falling over from the weight in front. My brain exploded, and I started to feel gross every time I put meat in my mouth.

So, I started to research. I asked my friends for advice, and went 100% into the life of a vegetarian. Cold turkey (pun intended.)

It lasted a few days, and a couple of friends called to take me out for a belated birthday dinner. We'd made plans before I left (and changed my eating habits)to go to Outback. We got there. And I caved.

I was also sick all night. My body had been adapting to no meat, and meat made it angry. So I got back on track. Started eating better and starting to cook for myself more often as a result of requiring more iron. I was feeling good.

Then I decided to go audition for a show in Orlando. I was done at 11am, and was told by work to come right to the office. In a panic, thinking I was about to be fired or that there was something wrong at the club, I drove through. And bought chicken tenders. Vegetarian options on the go are hard to find especially when there is little time to get out of the car.

So I failed. I had a tuna melt yesterday. I'm hormonal and needed the comfort food. I resisted the beef stew my mom made last night, and made a salad with fresh veggies and goat cheese. Today, I have an Amy's organic meal, but a turkey sandwich is calling my name. I have a feeling this is going to be harder than I thought. But I'm going to keep trying and if I can at least decrease the amount of meat that I am eating, I will be ok with that. 20 years of a habit is hard to break cold turkey. Mmm. Cold Turkey. Think I may order that for lunch.

Boom # 2

Monday morning Bailee and I woke up way too early, and both decided we should prepare for the arduous walking that would be occurring at ComicCon by walking 3 miles at a park near her house. I put on my "Foster's, I love you!" shirt and we headed out. The park was a glorious mix of Los Angelites...bums, hot chicks, and people doing yoga and karate were out in abundance and allowed Bailee and I to make some quite witty comments. The exercise wore us out, and we headed back to her house to get cleaned up. Like the amazing work wife she is, Bailee made me a vegan lunch, and we ate til we were about to bust. As it was hotter than Hades outside, we decided to lay low at her house. We watched part of Waxwork 2, My Name is Bruce, Hercules, and ate chocolate sorbet while sipping on some rose'. It was amazing.

Tuesday we had an errand to run that took us deep within Los Angeles to visit Good Art. Bailee and I were early to our appointment, and Josh at Good Art was more than happy to show us around...for 2 hours. We were hungry, and starting to get cranky, but he was awesome and gave us some Captain America style swag to sport at ComicCon. We grabbed a bunch of promo materials, but they were out of business cards. A plan was hatched to send us back towards Bailee's house to pick them up from Josh's house. Bailee's friend, Ken, offered to drive us as we had taken the train on the way in, and it was going to be a hike up a steep hill. Low blood sugar+exertion=me passing out. So we hopped in Ken's day rental Prius, and headed to Josh's home. On the front doorstep was a bag with business cards, as well as gourmet lollipops, peanut marzipan, ginger beer, and granola bars for the starving waifs that were whining about their growling stomachs. Ken dropped the car...and us...off in Hollywood, and we headed for sustenance immediately, dragging along the bag of goodies. Sushi and beer gave us instant satisfaction, and we headed home.

Our third caballero, Lori, had gotten back into town the night before, and we invited her over to hang with us as the next morning we would be hitting the road to ComicCon. We were all packed at this point, so Lori came over and we watched MST3K and ate loads of junk food. The plan was to leave at 12:30 the next day for SAN DIEGO!!

Boom #1

I'm not sure if I can completely encapsulate the amazingness that was the last week of my life. I'm going to try to detail everything clearly, so anyone who knows and cares can get a full picture of what ComicCon was like for me, a closet nerd who has finally seen that it is ok to like horror movies and comic books. There is a world out there that is accepting of ladies who love things that are typically termed juvenile or masculine, and even embraces these women who have begun to despair. All the things I felt were detriments to me as a female became attributes. And I will probably never be the same.

My flight to LA was delayed but uneventful. My first leg to Atlanta sat me near a crazy lady, who, after drinking a beer, decided to tell me about her pet grooming classes and how she'd chopped off a dogs tail by accident. Luckily, the beer made her groggy and she started snoring against the window before the fasten seat belt sign went off. A delay in Atlanta caused me to get in to Los Angeles at midnight, where I met up with Bailee. She brought me almonds, water, and diet coke. Carmageddon was supposedly in full force, but we made it back to her place in no time, and ended up staying up til 3am nerding out.

Due to some serious jet lag, I was up and at em at 10am, though my body and brain were mush. We lazed about for a good portion of the day, and then we packed up and headed to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, where we met up with the gang from Comikaze Expo to watch Evil Dead 2 with a thousand other people in the lawn of the cemetery. Bailee had yet to see the second film, and we both giggled and enjoyed an evening of white zin, food, and Deadite killing. We walked back out through the Cemetery, scaring ourselves silly when we encountered a cage full of sleeping peacocks. Back at her casa, we nerded out some more. It was glorious.

Sunday I had lunch plans with my friend, Jay. We met in Hollywood near the Chinese theater and grabbed ice cream BEFORE we had lunch at a place called The Waffle. It's a swanky version of Waffle House, and I grabbed some Chicken and Waffles. We had a good time, but had to cut it short, as Bailee had planned an X-Men: The Animated Series viewing with her friend who actually wrote for the show! Weee!! Unfortunately, that plan fell through as there were deadlines to be made, so we went to an arcade at CityWalk, drank beer, played games, and acted like idiots. It was amazing.

More to come...

Obsession is best.

The other night I was laying on the couch, in my Batman T-shirt and sweatpants, watching Astonishing X-Men on Netflix, reading Birds of Prey and Fear Itself, and basically nerding out. I had an epiphany as I lounged, and it's one that probably could have saved me a bunch of time, money, and preserved a little of my sanity over the years that I have been a functioning adult.

I get obsessed. When I was in college, I became an improviser with iPlay, and that became my life. When I started doing comedic improv, that became my life. I started working at Shadowbox, and sketch comedy/rock and roll music became my life. Every time I have transitioned into a new career, or decided to try a new hobby, I become fixated. My three years with The Jove were all about The Jove. My waking hours were filled with ideas on how to forward the troupe, reading about improv and as a result I was working too many hours a week and letting a lot of personal things fall by the wayside. Even my own show, The Jiggles and Giggles Comedy Fest, has become an obsession. Marketing it, writing songs and sketches based on my life, and just putting my all into it so much so that I have bruises on both knees and a broken elbow as a result.

This latest incarnation of comic book junkie and writer has started to eclipse everything else in my existence. I find myself imagining scenarios that the girls can experience, relating it to my own life and basically taking my day to day existence and putting it into panels for the world to see. I read, voraciously, comic books and online comics to increase my knowledge of formats, stereotypes, and arcs. I watch comic book movies, read comic book articles, and immerse myself in the culture so that I can be the best nerd that I can be. I've even contemplated a re-haul of my wardrobe to be more "nerd chic" and have finally realized that this is insanity.

So next week at ComicCon, they're going to see the same old Lauren that everyone sees here in Palm Beach. Heels, jeans, and cardigans. This Lauren knows more about Deadpool than she used to and can tell you what her favorite Dr. McNinja online comic is (the one where Ben Franklin comes back from the dead and turns into a headless horseman because of an evil plot created by Dracula.) But she's also a girly girl who works at a country club and wears skirts and pearls to work every day. She'll probably have to take a phone call about an accounting question or how to make a computer work while sitting in the Walking Dead panel.

And that's ok.

BOOM! :)

Itchy.

I have what some might term an obsessive personality. I don't wash my hands 50,000 times or touch every doorknob ten times before I enter a room. It's not that extreme. But when I decide I want or need to do something, it's all that I can think about...even when I am procrastinating and putting it off.

Case in point. I decided that in the midst of all my day job, writing columns, creating comics, and a couple of trips to see family and go to ComicCon, that I should create a brand for PMS. I spent every night for the last two weeks working on it. I denied invites to go out with friends, rejected a date (which wasn't really that hard to do as the guy was a little strange and only talked about his ex-girlfriend, his crappy roommate, and how much weed he used to smoke), and even blew off plans for a personal day with myself to just sit, in my pj's and type. I sent in a request to go live tonight, but I am still twitching wondering if the design is dynamic enough, spending the few hours til midnight dwelling on things that still need to be done (like collaborate on a PMS theme song with the lovely Bailee on ukulele.)

This morning I also broke a nail. I didn't exclaim in girly dismay at the loss of my long tip. I just got out my travel manicure kit and trimmed the unsightly, ragged edge and moved on with my work day. As I'm typing, though, I can feel the distinct difference in nail length and it is totally distracting me. My fingertips start to itch as I plot when I can sneak the kit out and even the playing field. My boss went outside to oversee a project, and I thought, "Do it now, Lauren!! He won't know any differently!" But the logical part of my brain said, "No, Lauren. Trimming your fingernails at work is weird. Someone could get a clipping and make a voodoo doll. USE YOUR BRAIN!" Though the logic side has won out this time, my hands are still twitchy and my eyes are drawn to the little stub on the middle finger of my left hand.

I never said I was normal.

"And the winner is..."

Saturday night I went to a banquet for the Pineapple Playhouse, where I did my first show after quitting The Jove. I had been lazy all day and was supposed to meet my friends at their house to carpool at 5pm. Around 4, I started to get ready. Nothing fit. All of my dressy clothes were at least one size too small for me. So, I put on a dress I had purchased for my cousin's wedding that my mom deemed "too plain" for that event. I put on my great-grandmother's earrings, my grandmother's ring, and a diamond necklace from my maternal grandfather, and I was set. The sky was filled with rolling storm clouds as I headed to Jupiter, though the rain stayed away as we made our way to the Knights of Columbus in Port St. Lucie.

We headed inside, surrounded by Virgin Mary statues and photos of the members of the PSL chapter. The room had been decorated in silver and green star balloons with whole pineapples as centerpieces. The median age was 50. The cast of Beauty and the Beast, Really grabbed two tables in the back corner, and I was fortunate enough to sit with the woman who played my mom, her husband, my friends, and the girl who played my stepsister along with her boyfriend. As people arrived, I'd give them big hugs and we'd all catch up. Except for one girl, who barely acknowledged that any of us were there. Janna and I had a rough relationship during the run of the show as I thought her self-indulgent, lazy and entitled. She would prove me right yet again on this night.

The DJ was about 80 years old, and kept making indecipherable announcements regarding a car that was blocking a fire exit, listing in detail how we would all die if there was a fire. This really set the mood for the party. A cash bar, buffet, and dessert table lead us to overindulge while we were being entertained by Steve Zimmerman.

Mr. Zimmerman came out onto the dance floor, a large black man dressed all in black with tan tap shoes on. He explained that his name sometimes confused people, and that he really was "the" Steve Zimmerman. This guy was in Taps with Gregory Hines, and pulled out a tap dancing set that was accentuated by his overly played loud breathing and bulging eyes. His set lasted about a half hour, and the crowd was probably an unexpected change from the usual Knights of Columbus groups he had played in front of during prior gigs. This was a theater crowd, and everyone tried to one up his jokes as he told them. It was funny and weird and set the mood for the rest of the evening.

The Board Members of the theater were all brought up on stage and thanked for their services. New board members were inaugurated. The President accepted an appreciation award that had her name misspelled on it. Weird level orange.

The acting awards finally came around. As each category was announced, the cast would hold hands, trying to give off a positive vibe for the person nominated. They got to the Best Female Newcomer category, and it was between myself, Cherlise who played Beauty, and Janna, the "show stealer" and myself. As they announced the three nominees, I started chanting in my head, "Cherlise or me, Cherlise or me." It's no secret that I am not a fan of the other girl. So, when they announced, "Lorraine Pottinger, Lulu in Beauty and the Beast, Really" (obviously not my name or the name of the character, Lula, but who cares)I was shocked and delighted. As I grabbed the award and posed for a picture, I thought they would let me make a speech. They didn't.

Janna did win an award for "Best Female Minor Role" and they let her talk. With her stage time of about 5 minutes, a lack of ability to sing and dance at the same time, and her diva nature, it wasn't surprising when her speech comprised of saying, "It wasn't a big part, but we all know that I stole the show." I had imbibed a single beer during the dinner portion of the evening, and I couldn't help myself when I started chuckling loudly at the complete nerve of this woman, who had to leave a rehearsal early so she could go and see opening night of that crappy Christina Aguilera/Cher movie. From this point on I was hot...and not just because of the combo beer and satin dress lining. I leaned over to Leslie, my mom, and said, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

When the next category came up where Cherlise and I were both nominated for Best Female Lead, we all grabbed hands again (sans Janna). It was a three way tie between myself and the two female leads of the show, Arsenic and Old Lace. "And Laura Pottinger, Lula in Beauty and the Beast, Really,"(again, not my name but the character's name was right.) Neither of the ladies from AOL were actually there that night, so I thought I'd get to speak. No again. Maybe there was something in my face that made them not want to give me the microphone. Maybe they realized that the awards ceremony was lasting 3 hours. Whatever it was, I was unable to declare my appreciation for the whole cast and crew who worked their butts off to make the show what it was...begrudgingly, Janna included.

After the awards were over, I got another beer and the censors disappeared. Cherlise and I were shaking it on the dance floor. Janna went to leave and I dismissed her with a waggle of the hand. We closed the place down after she left, and it was a relief to have her sour puss out of my peripheral. We then headed to Friendly's with my TWO awards (remember, I beat Janna in one category). Ice cream, good conversation and some french fries later I was beat and ready for bed. I headed home to my empty house, hugged Bailey and let him outside, put on my pj's and as I slipped into slumber, I muttered, "Stole the show, my ass."

So, here's the speech I would have given.

Many thanks to Mark Brinkerhoff, who not only played and recorded all the music, directed us, built the set, had twin baby boys, and dealt with Janna. To the entire cast and crew who helped me believe in myself more than I ever have in an unfamiliar territory of musical theater. To Cherlise specifically, for being beautiful inside and out and for hitting the high notes so I didn't have to. To Justin for forgiving me for the attitude every day. To Lara and Megan for listening to me vent on the long drive from Jupiter to Ft. Pierce. And to the warm and welcoming community of the Pineapple, where even asshats like Janna can be onstage. Thank you."

I may still be a little peeved. :)

30 is weird.

The actual day I turned thirty was one of the weirdest birthdays I have ever had, and I've had some interesting ones. I guess I thought it was going to be epic, but it ended up being a series of small yet strange activities culminating in a bi-coastal phone conversation and Taco Bell devouring.

I woke at 8,9, and 10 respectively as I was being called on my cell by multiple people who wanted to wish me well. As the night before I had taken a Mucinex, Unisom, and Dayquil to rid myself of a massive head cold that had settled in the previous day, I was a bit lethargic and slightly cranky. I stumbled downstairs and ate one of my red velvet cupcakes from my birthday party that had occurred on Sunday. A half hour later, my sister came downstairs and said she wanted pancakes...did I want any? As she rarely offers to do nice things, I took her up on the deal. 10 minutes later, there were two golden brown pancakes on our plates, and we dug in with gusto. Two bites later we looked at each other and simultaneously headed for the sink and the garbage disposal. The mix was a whole wheat Hungry Jack, and the pancakes were dense and flavorless. We laughed about it, and I went to get ready for my day on the set of Burn Notice.

Showered, curled and made up, I grabbed my down home style clothes and headed down to Miami Springs. I was cocky, as the production company had sent a map, and I thought that I was so smart that I could read a map, no problem. I even planned a side trip for all the extra time I would have on my hands. I drove distractedly, with a hubris that was repaid in full when I looked up and saw a sign that said "Miami International Airport." I had missed a turn somewhere and got caught in a massive detour leading me through the depths of the airport. Panicking, I programmed my Google Maps app with the address, and re-routed. I got to the crew lot with moments to spare, grabbed my clothing, and headed to the craft services tent. As I walked up to the group of extras standing around, I noticed a 19 year old girl wearing the same dress I had chosen for my outfit for the day. I made a joke about not getting the memo, and she sarcastically told me that it was ok cause SHE had other outfits. Pretentious.

I sit down and watch all the extras attack our wrangler for the day, Cornell, each asking a silly question about one thing or another, confident in the fact that I had been there, done that. I grab my hardcover book out of my purse, and before I can even open to the first page, an older gentleman across from me asks me my name. He then proceeds to ask me if I'm married, what I do, where I'm from. I answer politely and try to read some more, but finally gave up at the half hour mark. After 2 and a half hours, we walked to the location, and half of us were used in one scene, then 20 of the extras (not including me)had to sit in a cafe while the rest of us shot a scene behind the principals, Bruce Campbell and Jeffrey Donavan. BC showed up in a white van in a white wifebeater. Meow.

After this we were sent home. I headed back up North and tried to get a hold of a friend who said she wanted to meet up with me for my birthday. No answer. I realized she had another social engagement, so I met up with some other friends to get some frozen yogurt at Froyotopia. Emily, Jess and Steve were waiting for me, and I got a delightful group hug just before Jess dropped her iPhone on the ground and smashed it. We went inside and got our frozen yogurt, and they sneakily put candles in the yogurt. I blew them out at the counter before we decided to wander. A half hour later, they had to go back to work, and I had no idea what I was going to do. I called my friend again, and she was tired from a long day at work, so I decided to go and finally meet Michael, a guy that my best friend's mom had been trying to set me up with. I got to his workplace, sidled up to the bar, and he came up to me smiling and gave me a big hug. We'd talked a few times on the phone, but this was the first face to face meeting. He had about 7 patrons still in the restaurant, so he pulled up a chair and we chatted over my complimentary merlot. About 15 minutes in, I saw the manager run from the kitchen into his office, followed by a chef who quickly grabbed a fire extinguisher off of the wall.

The kitchen was on fire. They put it out, but not before the fire department had been called in. Six firemen in full gear came tromping into the restaurant. The patrons who had just ordered were unable to eat anything, as the kitchen had to be closed down after the fire extinguisher was used, and muttering, they left. I decided to leave as well, as they were all stressed and it was about 10:30 at this point.

I was feeling a little woozy from the wine, as my last meal had been at 2:30 on set, and fro yo doesn't make a good alcohol cushion. My best friend from college called me from LA, and as I chatted with him I stopped at Taco Bell. He heard my order and says, "That sounds good. I'm gonna get the same thing and we can eat together." He did, we did, and I ended the night with a Grilled Stuft Burrito, a phone call, and the last red velvet cupcake.

Like I said. Weird.

Meh.

Life's complicated. Love is worse. Something that was once two people meeting and having a connection has turned into a series of auditions that make me more nervous than any play in which I have ever tried to get a part. As an improviser, I have the utmost faith in my ability to get on a stage and make stuff up in order to entertain people. But get me in front of a strange audience of one male or on the phone for more than 5 minutes with a male I have yet to meet and I turn into a mush-mouthed mental 12 year old.

You know you've been single too long when your best friend's mom is trying to set you up with guys. My very best friend, Jen, knew a guy when she was 12 years old who still lives around town and works at a restaurant where her mom, Corinne, frequently dines. She loves this man. So much so that when he complained that he was just looking for a nice girl to settle down with, a light bulb went off over her head and she thought, "Lauren!" A slightly convoluted meet cute occurred. Corinne got Jen to send her a photo of me, he saw it, liked it, gave his number to Corinne, who gave it to Jen, who texted him my number after asking me permission to do so. See? Convoluted.

He called me last night while I was in my writer's meeting, and left a nervous sounding voicemail. I called back, and in the midst of leaving a message actually said, "I'm sorry I missed your call. I was presenting at a writer's meeting at the library...yeah, fun stuff. Anyway!!" Doh. I received another vm today, while at work, telling me he had to be at work at 5, which is when I get out of work. Not looking too good on the communication side, but Jen vouches for the guy and one date won't hurt. We keep missing each other on the old phone, but I'll keep trying. You never know who you're going to meet and why. This guy may be my new best friend. Who knows? Not me.

I do know I'm starting to get tired of this area. Not only because the available men have the mental acuity of a pre-teen. There is just too much history here and too many connections with people whom I would rather never see again. I've been seriously thinking about moving to L.A. in November, riding the waves of the Comic Convention season out there and just seeing where Bailee and I can go with our web comic and our general comedy shenanigans. I feel as if she and I are destined to do something bigger together...maybe I'm just re-directing the general need for a soul mate to one of a creative partner and kindred spirit. All I know is that she makes me feel like I am funny and it's been a long time since I felt that. I have things that I need to do before then, like produce another Jiggles and Giggles. But it's about time to actually start that "living like there's no tomorrow" thing that all the country singers like to sing about.

It's time for a change. I've already changed myself enough...now I just need to change the world.

Family

I've often wondered why I am the way I am. There are times when really fantastic things happen, and I systematically tear them and myself into little tiny pieces, over-analyzing every bit to see what I could have done better. I have started to do this most recently with my web comic. Though it is out of my control in terms of how many people read it, I keep thinking that I can affect it somehow, by being more witty, charming, out there. I even added it for a brief moment on my online dating profile, to see if I could up readership that way. I realized the folly of this choice and quickly removed it from the site, but the insanity that inspired me to do it in the first place is still going strong.

I was discussing this with my mother last night, as she is pretty down to earth and wise to the world. She is usually quick to point out my bullshit. During the course of our discussion, I discovered that I have ALWAYS been this way. I was potty trained at 18 months because I didn't like being dirty. I learned to read at age 4, because I felt if my parents could read to me then I could certainly do it myself. When I was 6, I had imaginary people in my life. They weren't friends, they were parents. Mother Snow and Father Magic lived in the North Pole and were going to come and get me someday. Six year old me wanted to control who was making the rules for me. I'm very glad these two weirdos never actually manifested in my life and love both of my parents as they are both strong yet different parts of who I am today.

After my mom and I were done chatting, I continued to think about who I am and why I feel as if I am constantly silent on subjects that I should be more vocal about. Looking to my family, I decided to elect a new mantra for myself that is based upon both my maternal and paternal grandmothers. Both of my grandmothers are named Nancy. One is living in Ohio, the other passed away while I was in college. Nancy Blake is a sweet woman who makes homemade ice cream for the 4th of July and likes warm, ankle length cotton robes. Nancy Pottinger was a spitfire, who taught me sarcasm and chain smoked until she passed away from emphysema. I've always been a little more like Grandma Blake, and will continue to be so in terms of how I deal with the people I love. In terms of my creative outlets and perspective on life I am going to become more like Grandma P. I will no longer take shit from anyone. I will recognize shady characters and bypass them before they can take advantage of me. I will call out indecencies and injustices and I will burn peoples faces off with my sarcastic wit.

What would Nancy do? That is the question.

BURN NOTICE!!

I found a website online that was a casting agency for the TV show Burn Notice. Burn Notice has a couple of things going for it that I love, the biggest one being Bruce Campbell of Evil Dead fame. I've been a fan of his since I saw the first Evil Dead film when I was 14.


Handsome.

So, I uploaded my headshot, put in my info, and waited. 2 days later I received an e-mail from the casting department, asking me if I was available on a Wednesday. I said yes, though I do have a day job and was not sure if I could get the day off. I tried to come up with an excuse...dr's appt, sickness, family emergency...finally deciding on the good old fashioned truth. My boss told me to go for it, and asked if he could come with. Unfortunately, that couldn't happen, but I felt a lot better knowing that I was upfront and honest instead of being a lying liar face.

I get an e-mail telling me to bring office casual clothing. I rushed to NY&CO to purchase appropriate clothing, as my entire work wardrobe is comprised of white, grays and black, all of which were no-nos. I couldn't sleep, and woke at 5:15 with an energy that has never been seen in me at that early hour. I hopped in the Mini and jetted down to Key Biscayne, where the shoot was to be held. I arrived early, and sat around watching the other extras come into the craft services area. They were from all walks of life. Old, young, attractive, not...a plethora of personalities.

The queen-tastic wardrobe guy tisked at my selections, lambasting me for bringing clothing that the casting agency specifically told us to bring. The other extras piped up, letting him know in no uncertain terms that we were a team here, and that it was all for one. After changing into casual gear for an outdoor scene we would be shooting, we were told to grab our stuff and get on the bus, as we were heading to the set. Little did I know, my life was about to change, forever.

All right, it didn't change forever. I had a fantastic time shooting on Burn Notice, ending up walking as a background actor right next to Jeffrey Donavan and Bruce Campbell. I tittered a little as I was handed a coffee cup to carry along with an expired parking ticket as props. One of my pet peeves is when actors in films carry coffee cups as if they are batons. I concentrated all my efforts on being the best coffee cup carrier in Tinseltown. I created a backstory for my character, walking with cops and discussing how they could help me pay off the ticket. One guy I walked with became my fictional boyfriend, and I had received the ticket while parking at his house, so he should be the one paying for it. Fun, fun times. A couple novice background actors were almost run over by Michael's black Dodge Charger. It was hilarious.

In an office scene with Sharon Gless and Gabrielle Anwar, I was told to sit in a chair behind the two ladies and pretend to be filling out an employment application. I filled it out, all right. The applicant was IP Freely. She used to be a hooker, but had to quit due to health reasons. Her references were Madonna, Beelzebub, and her mom. All very fun, at least for me. After a couple of seconds, I was to stand up and go and use the restroom, walking behind the two lead actresses. I kindly asked the lady next to me (in mime, of course) to watch my stuff while I went. It was awesome. The director, Jonathan Frakes of Star Trek fame, used my leg as a frame for a wide shot. Neat.

At the end of the day, I was smelly, sunburnt, and exhausted. I was $100 richer, and I had been within 3 feet of my most favorite actor of all time. I watched his process, and even locked eyes with him momentarily as I awaited the call of "background." It was a day that will forever be burnt into my memory.

Life is ridiculously funny.

It's been a strange couple of months. I've been on some dates and gotten booked to speak at a comic book convention, and gotten into some hijinks and shenanigans. This blog will be a free for all to really detail some of the things that are going on in the Guarded Area.

The dating front. It is hard out there, people! The moment you feel a connection with someone, a shinier minnow comes their way and they are gone. It's good that people are so ADD because if genuine affection was actually created, there would be tons more heartache than there currently has been/is in my life. I have a date lined up this weekend. I planned it. We're going putt putt golfing. I couldn't stand the idea of sitting down in a coffee shop and making awkward conversation. We'll see how it goes. The guy enjoys the fact that I use Simpson-isms when I speak. Plus one.

On the negative side of dating, there are the absolutely ridiculous things that people say and do when they are on an online dating site. I have actually been guilt tripped by people for not writing them back immediately. The expectation is that if you are on an online dating service that is all your life is about. Finding the one. Sorry, I have a job, friends, family and a creative life that keeps me distracted. These guys also don't know how to market themselves to women of quality. I got a message from a man today who's screen name is Lovesblackpuss. Sorry, sir. You will not be hearing back from me. I'm not even sure why you messaged me, to be honest.

If this weekends date goes poorly, I will probably be removing myself from all sites. The pressure and judgments on who you are in 500 words or less and based on the images you carefully pick to represent the real you is a little overwhelming. If only I had stayed with my high school boyfriend and popped out a couple of kids at the get-go, I might have missed out on this stress-fest. Regardless, the time has come to focus more on my career.

I recently interviewed for a part time teaching position at a Christian school, teaching drama to 7th and 8th graders 4 hours a week. If I get it, my boss at Ironhorse has said that I could change my schedule to do both things. I am incredibly blessed to be able to do what I love and also have a career that pays the bills. Stating that...

Bailee and I are doing the web comic thing, and it is going incredibly well. We're still looking into how to market it better, but we've been invited to speak at a comic book convention Comikaze Expo in LA in November by a lady who thinks our comic rocks. Comediva is stupendously supportive, and we may be writing a whole series of articles about our upcoming trip to Comic-Con in July, which we will be attending as nerds.

The only downfall is that while I am extremely excited about this and the potential it has to be great, there are still and always will be people in my life who are more logical, who believe that the trip is a boondoggle (a Kirk Pottinger term.) It's really hard when you are excited about something and the people who are closest to you nay-say. I've always been a pretty sensitive soul, and it completely sucks to be so excited about something only to have the negative creep in to taint it. It's a constant source of stress and though I'll deal, it's just how I'm feeling today. My family is constantly supportive of my creative endeavors, and for that I am grateful...I just need to be making more money at it for it to mean anything solid. It'll happen. I'm putting that out there. Thoughts become things.

Stay tuned for a separate blog about my recent visit to the set of Burn Notice!!

Hubris...aka A Lesson Learned.

There's something called hubris. I experienced it today, and I'm comfortable enough to tell you about it.

I had a show last night. It was called The Jiggles and Giggles Comedy Fest. I may have mentioned it once or twice. It was an idea birthed in January, and brought to fruition last night from 7pm-9pm. Or more like 7:15pm-9:30pm. We had so many people show up at the door to buy tickets we held for 15 minutes. After all 97 of them bought their concessions and bid on silent auction items set up by the lovely Wendy Pottinger, and after a two hour show of improv, sketch and stand up (as well as musical comedy and dance all by some of the best friends a girl could have), we had made $1900 for Gilda's Club of South Florida. We had a fun after show at the Brass Ring Pub, and I slept well knowing it was over and that people enjoyed themselves. Win.

Today I headed to Stuart to see some friends in a show. My friend Nathan and I got so turned around we missed the curtain. But we had fun regardless, and even ended up lost near a chocolate shop and got some candy. Yay. Win.

It's Easter, and my brother and his girlfriend came up for dinner. We always have fun as a family, and tonight was no exception. Lasagna, manicotti (we're not Italian), angel food cake and my fabulous family. You can't beat it. Win.

Then I got ready for a date. We were meeting in Delray, and I put on a strapless flowered dress, red flats, a sweater and headed for the door. It began to rain, but my awesome sister escorted me out and I did not get soaked. I drove through the torrential downpour and made it to the date about 2 minutes late. We had fun. We mocked each other. We laughed. We used big words and drank adult beverages. He is a psychology professor, and seemed genuinely interested in me, and not as a patient. We kissed, and it was awkward but had potential. He berated me for parking too far from the restaurant. It was sweet, and a great way to end the weekend. Win! *

I pulled up to the gate of my neighborhood feeling pretty smug. I was feeling invincible. Confident. I am a producer now. I make things interesting wherever I go. My poo does not stink. The world is my oyster.

I rolled down the window to type in the code for the gate, and as I did, the sprinklers came on. Reclaimed water that smelled like rotten eggs started shooting out of the ground, directly into my car and subsequently onto my face, hair, and clothes. A little got in my mouth. As I blindly typed in the code, I pulled away from the geyser that had just drenched me. I glimpsed my visage in the rear view mirror, and started to laugh. Mascara was smeared under my eyes, my hair was half plastered to my head, and I smelled like an Easter Egg that was lost in the hunt and discovered a month later.

Hubris. I'd like to thank whoever is up there for that little reminder that you can never be too humble, even when things are going really well. I sorely needed it. I promise myself and everyone who knows me that it will never, ever happen again.

* After 3 dates, this "gentleman" broke things off over e-mail, saying he wanted to be friends while also stating that he hoped I had a nice life. Jack.

Online dating gems...

Subject line of an e-mail:
Renascence Woman

Lauren's response: If you don't know how to spell a word, either a) don't use it or b) google it and see how it is spelled.

2nd Subject Line of an E-mail:
Stop working and start having fun

Lauren's response: Stop telling me what to do. We aren't even dating yet!

3rd Subject Line of an E-mail: Hi
Body of E-mail: Hello

Lauren's response: Yeesh. Really original and spellbinding. Keep up the good work with the creativity and allure.

E-mail Message: U Seem Kinda Cute

Lauren's response: You seem like a douchebag. Maybe your first mistake is using the words kinda and cute to describe someone you might try to date.

E-mail Message from 62 year old man: You are very sexy-looking.

Lauren's response: You are very old looking, probably have grandkids and smell like Aspercreme and Brut. No thanks.

Actual sentence from a guys profile:
My perfect match must know herself, where she came from and where she is going. She should be confident but not too independent.

Lauren's response:What is too independent? What is confident but not too independent? I am so confused. And feeling unconfident and dependent!

Stay tuned as I am sure there will be plenty more where that came from!!

I wore heels for this?!?!?!

I have a pair of fabulous high heels. They are purple and sparkly with high, thin heels. They make me feel like a rock star when I wear them, though my ankles tend to feel slightly weak and sore a day or two after I wear them. Last night I pulled them out of the closet for a date that I thought looked promising. It was not.

*Not my actual foot.

It's not that it was a horrible date. We went to dinner at Brewzii and caught Michael McDonald at the Improv for free. The format of the date was sound. However, when someone of the opposite sex admits (halfway through the date) that they could have lined up an out phone call with a friend, it kind of puts a damper on things. When they further admit that they experimented with every drug out there and ended up in Florida to go to rehab, that's an even bigger red flag. And when, after 3 and a half hours of conversation and 2 hilarious stand-ups, your date says the highlight of his evening was watching the manager of the Improv chase a guy who walked out on his bill, you pretty much know you've seen the last of this particular gentleman.

After a goodbye that consisted of "See ya" as he pulled out his cell phone and walked away, I wandered in the direction of my car, thinking to myself that I was leaving yet another bomb of a date, about to pay $9 for parking, walking in the painful yet hot shoes that I had chosen to go with a lavender silk shirt and jeans for this particular debacle. I decided I was not going to slink home with my tail between my aching legs, and made my way to the gelato shop at City Place. The adorable 18 year old boy working the counter scooped me some double chocolate gelato and as I paid in cash, he said,"We always appreciate singles at this hour." I said, "It's that obvious that I'm single and just had a bad date?" Confused, the young man handed me my change and said, "I meant the dollar bills." I grabbed the chocolatey goodness and ran. My sore tootsies directed me towards Barnes and Noble, where I grabbed Tina Fey's new book, thinking that my dating woes would help me be more inspired in my professional life.

As I checked out and wandered towards my car, I realized that this was all I needed. A good book, chocolate anything, and good friends to text when my evening didn't go as planned. I'm sure there is someone out there for me. Maybe not on PlentyOfCreeps.com. As my best friend said, it may be time for me to take a break so that Mr. Right can fall into my lap. I'll have to move Bossypants, the show that I'm producing, the web comic I'm writing, and a whole host of other things out of the way to make room for him.

Boudoir session...not for the young or weak at heart.

A little while ago, in an attempt to try new things and be a "yes woman", I decided to do a boudoir session with my very good friends, Emily and Steve Pogozelski, of Pogo Photo. Having been too thin last year and gaining weight again, I thought that I should embrace my current size 8 frame and get some photos done. Maybe I'll do another one after the next 6 months of eating better and working out.

As a single, I had no significant other to take these images for...except myself. It was fun, empowering and everything I'd ever wanted in a naughty photo session(though I never knew I even WANTED a naughty photo session.)

Being the weird individual I am, I decided to do a little bit more than the usual stiletto and stocking pics, and arrived at the shoot, arms heavily laden with props and costumes for what would turn out to be the most hilarious photo shoot of my life. Junk food, comic books, mic stands, and a towel turned me into somewhat of a "sex kitten"(phrase stolen from my best friend, Jen.)

Here is a sneak peek at some of my favorite images, with more to come!

If you EVER want a photo session like this for yourself or your beau, call Emily and Steve. They are the BEST!

PMS Adventures

My friend Bailee and I have been working on this project for two years, and when she connected with an all female comedy website called Comediva, she pitched our baby to the editor, Linda, an amazing lady who saw the potential for our collective work.

Thus, the New Adventures of PMS was launched on March 28th, running for 5 days at the end of the month (just like your period, folks!)

Read it, comment, and hopefully, enjoy it. Also, follow Bailee in her escapades out in LaLa land at her blog, Nerdventure.

Online Dating

Everyone has their own stories about online dating. Some are horrific. Some are adorable. Some are downright pornographic. I have been off an on all of the wonderful sites over the past several years, searching in vain for that special someone that I can make a cheesy, "We met and flowers exploded out of every orifice and unicorns cried," commercial with, to no avail. I have made decisions about whether or not to date a man based on even the smallest details on their profiles. Too young, too old, too buff, too annoying. As an experienced online dater, I would love to give tips to anyone thinking about breaching the annoyance and delight that is Plentyofmatchemistry.com's.

1. The one armed cell phone photo in the mirror is NOT CUTE. It makes me think you have no friends and don't ever go outside of your house. Also, the photo of you with a woman's head cut out of it? I'm sure this is not the end all be all of photos of you, and you should probably not indicate to me that you are a psycho who cuts his exes out of photos.

2. LOL, BRB, C U L8ER...not cute. If I wanted to text speak with you, I would give you my phone number. These are e-mails with no character limitations. Take the time to give details about yourself. Write full words. Don't use slang unless you want to seem like an uneducated toolbox. Also, learn the difference between your, you're, their, there, and they're. But that's for everyone on the planet.

3. If you are more than ten years older than I am, and you see on my profile that I am looking for men within a certain age range, don't message me. I got a Plentyoffish message from a 60 year old. I'm sorry, but I am looking for a mate and potential father of my children, not a sugar daddy. There are women out there with integrity.

4. If you list going to the gym and drinking as hobbies, move along. These are not hobbies. Hobbies are building miniature ships and putting them in bottles, or collecting Playboys. Alcoholics who drink six packs and have six pack abs may seem attractive, but not to quality women who have brains.

5. If you want to meet me after a couple of e-mails, make the decision. I don't want to have to go back and forth and try to figure out what you would like to do. I want to get to know you, so plan that first outing. I am old fashioned enough to believe that the boy should do the asking. Grow a pair.

6. If, for some reason, we do decide to meet, don't change your mind 15 times about the location. Chances are good I have taken a lot of time and energy to adapt my ensemble to the locale, so having to change 20 times makes me cranky. (This happened once. An hour before the date I got a message that he would be late. 45 minutes before I got a message that he couldn't contact the cute, indie coffee shop I'd selected for our meet up. We decided on Starbucks. As I drove there, he messaged saying he wanted to go to a fancy, popular restaurant instead. Ungh.) Oh, and SHOW UP!

7. If we are texting, please do not send me photos. I've seen your photos on the web, and certainly don't need to know what your workplace , your cat Jingles, your room at your parents house, or any other aspect of your life looks like. We haven't even met yet. And please, please...no shirtless, one armed shots. (I felt a need to re-iterate.)

Everyone out there is trying to find the one, and yes, this list may make me seem as if I am high maintenance. I just want to meet someone who is respectful, well read, decent to people, smart, and somewhat attractive to me. Is that too much to ask?!?!?!

Maybe it is. Harrumph.

Romantic Comedy...or my life?

My faith in humanity and men in general has been redeemed fully, and it's all because of a British man named Dave. I don't even know his last name.

I was supposed to go to dinner after a high school production of Hairspray with my friends, Maria and David. This quiet British gentleman had been quietly pursuing me via international texting after our profiles connected us on Plentyoffish.com. The evening before I had been painting at a BYOB art studio with my wonderful, amazing girlfriends, and could not meet up with him. I received a text query about meeting up on Sunday evening, and I was sweaty, broken out, and inappropriately attired. I was about to turn him down when a thought occurred to me. I am always so ready to go out and try new things when it comes to my friends, but what about my life and the potential Mr. Right that this lovely man could be? So, I looked at Maria in my passenger seat and said, "I'll drop you off. I'm going to meet him."

I texted that I would meet him in 45 minutes at CityPlace, where I had just had a non-alcoholic beverage with Maria and our friend Susan. I ran into my house, apologized to my parents for being gone all day and making even more plans to be away from my dirty room and piles of laundry, and tore through getting ready. I put on a lacy, girly dress with cowboy boots and chunky pink jewelry, and raced to CityPlace. I told him to meet me at the fountain.

There are 5 fountains at CityPlace.

He texted that he was at the one by the theater. I ran to Muvico, and there was no one there. Worried he had fled upon seeing me arrive, I lingered, until EPIPHANY! The Harriet Himmel Theater has a fountain in front of it. Feeling as if I was in a movie, I ran down the stairs, crossed the street...and there he was, illuminated by the twinkling lights and cascading water. He's about my height, handsome and put together, and the accent...the accent was lovely. As I approached he smiled at me and said, "You look absolutely stunning." Melt.

We proceeded to Brewzzi for dinner, and had a conversation ranging from performing arts, emotional concert reactions (my Bryan Adams sobbing came up), and religion. We had so many things in common it was startling. He studied theater and dance as a child and went into producing music for a while. His dog's name is Cassie...the main character from my graphic novel is named Cassie. He was respectful and excited about every word that was coming out of my mouth, and I was hanging on every sentence, laughing at all his jokes. We talked and chatted, and decided we did not want the night to end there. We walked and stopped by my car. I played a fun game of "Which car is mine?" where he proceeded to freak out that I owned a Mini Cooper. I dropped off my leftovers from dinner, and we walked from CityPlace down to Clematis under twinkly lights and tree limbs. We stopped at the corner of Clematis and Rosemary, and sat at a fountain with a giant globe sculpture, and just talked for an hour. He then walked me to my car and as we were exchanging pleasantries and saying goodbye, he gave me a peck on the lips in farewell. I gave him a hug, and he grabbed my face and kissed me again. And again. It was sweet, romantic and amazing. As he began to walk towards his car, he turned and said, "Thank you so very much for the lovely evening."

This morning I woke up to a text message. "Good morning, Lauren. Thank you again for a lovely evening. X."

Too bad he's going to Dusseldorf for 3 weeks. But it was, to quote my new favorite Brit, a lovely evening. Just lovely.*

*As an update for this post: The Englishman has been sent by work back to his native land, and will not return for at least a month, at which point he will pack his belongings and go back to the UK. At least we had a wonderful time together, and I now have an e-mail pen pal.

So...about that Valentine's thing I said earlier...

I trudged home today with a heavy heart and loads on my mind. It has not been the most spectacular year for me, but I took a really crappy personal situation and have begun to make opportunities for myself to enjoy life and to create in my own way, on my own terms. I vented in a previous blog about how much Valentine's Day blows chunks, and I was feeling every word and punctuation as I opened the door of my house and walked inside.

My mom immediately beset me, telling me I should go upstairs and change...that I looked beat and that I should get out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable. The more and more she insisted, the more and more suspicious I became. Had she purchased me something and placed it in my room to cheer me up due to my lack of Valentine? If so, it was probably going to hurt more than not getting anything at all.

I walked upstairs, and sitting on my bed amidst the mess that is my room was a box of Godiva chocolates, with a card. I yelled down to my mom that she shouldn't have. She was standing behind me and said, "I didn't." I look at her inquisitively, and open the card. On the outside is a hole punch. On the inside is a message that says,
My friend, Nathan, had arranged with my mom to sneak into my house while I was at work to place the candies. He said he wanted to renew my faith in the holiday. He then arrived at my house in a suit and tie, and took me to dinner at IHOP, our favorite hangout. From IHOP, we went to Denny's, where we ate even more food. Then Emily called and said she had something for me, could I swing by? So, Nate and I did.

Here's what she had for me.A wonderful, sweet, hand drawn card. Love everything about it and my new "bestie."

And of course, no year would be complete without a card from my friend from college, Sam. He knows me well, so picked a Maxine card that said, "How do you know if the chocolate and card that you received on Valentine's Day were last minute purchases?"Many thanks to my friends who made me realize that it's not all about romantic love. I love you guys.

Valentine's, Shmalentines.

You've gotta kiss a lot of these...

I hate Valentine's Day. And before you accuse me of being a bitter woman on the path to old maid/cat lady-dom, please allow me to explain.

I have never had a decent Valentine's Day. Ever. I am 29 years old, and the last time I received a Valentine's card from a gentleman I was interested in, I was 8. And they kinda had to give them to everyone in the class. I have always been a care-taking kind of gal, so I typically end up going overboard and having little to no reciprocation. Last year, I ordered expensive, hard to find coffee for my significant other. He gave me nothing, said nothing, and I basically ended my Valentine's Day crying. The times I can remember before that, I did my best to bend over backwards to be the hip girlfriend, going so far as to rent 3 martial arts films and pick up KFC because my boyfriend at the time really liked those two things. It's a holiday about expectations, and mine have never been fulfilled. And I've finally realized that it is my fault entirely.

From now on, I will have no expectations. From anyone, for anything. If an individual surprises me, then good. But I will not spend another year feeling badly about myself for a holiday that promotes over consumption of chocolate, Hallmark greeting cards with stupid poems, and flowers that will wilt in a day or two.

As a result of this new attitude, I have given up power in terms of my love life. I have obviously made poor choices up to this point, and don't know that I can handle any more. So, yesterday, I looked at my mom, who loves me unconditionally and is always looking out for my best interests, and I told her to take over my love life. Today she signed me up for Plentyoffish.com, and she is currently looking through the profiles of single men in order to find me that perfect match. She will be setting up dates, picking out outfits, and basically doing everything but going on the date itself (my dad might have a problem with that!)

As they say, mother knows best. We'll see if that idiom is true. And maybe next Valentine's Day, I'll be singing a different tune.

(PS. Thanks to Sam Waters for sending me a Valentine every year. You are a great friend!)