Aunty Woovin.

I love this kid. Not only for his ability to double fist milk and water.

After a rough day at work yesterday, I put a call out to my friends for some alcoholic/revelry time. I needed some sort of distraction, as the things that were going down at the job were pretty intense and will probably change my work environment in major ways. I got an offer from my best friend to hang out for a little while with her and her two year old son, who are two of my favorite people on the planet.

I decided to head over before the alcoholic beverage consumption occurred and parked my car in their driveway at 6:45pm, just after bath time. As I got out of the car, I saw a little blonde head bobbing up and down in their front window. I heard the sound of a little boy screaming, "Woovin's here, Woovin's here!" as I made my way to the front door. As I turned the doorknob, I heard him yell, "I'm gonna hide, Mommy!" and I feigned surprise that my little pal had disappeared.

I walk out of their home after a visit and leave feeling refreshed and wonderful. I love when this little boy tells me he knew as soon as his mommy told him I was coming over that I was gonna be funny. Cause I'm always funny. His mom told me that my little guy said that when I came over, I was probably going to call him a giant. And I did. It's moments like this where I realize that I am supposed to be right here, right now, if only to be the silly aunt to this amazing little boy.

I got to hear about the dragon ride at a festival the family went to over the weekend. About how his dinosaur has a spiky tail. I got a kissed finger when I pretended to have a booboo after touching it. I ate toddler toes, then put the imaginary chewed toes back on his foot, to which he said, "Now I can't walk, Woovin!!" I got to listen to his reaction to seeing Yoda and Darth Vader on a television screen for the first time, and about how his favorite character was R-Do-Tee-Too. I heard a two year old do a Darth Vader impression, and say, "LukeIamyourfather" as one word, and a long drawn out "NOOOOOOOO!!!" in response.

Who knows what path my life will take from here. Who knows if I will ever have children of my own, or if I will be the cool aunt until my dying day. I don't know, and right now I don't really care. I do care about my little guy, and my friend, her husband and their entire family and I am blessed to be allowed into their lives. I want to make sure that he knows me, because knowing him makes me a happier, sappier person. (Obviously. See above post.) And I'm gonna do the same for his baby sister that is due in June. They're my family, and it's my job to spoil them rotten.

Fiction Friday, the Fourth on the Thirteenth.

My friend gave me the suggestion of clams to inspire this post. I didn't like it. So, I reached out to my facebook people in an effort to get another word that would inspire me, as I'm basically a curmudgeon and a control freak. Their responses were even less inspiring to me. I feel full of piss and vinegar today. I don't know why. I slept well, ate good food and got to visit with some kids that I used to babysit that are now 28, 27, and 25...oh, wait. That may be why. I'M OLD, PEOPLE!

So. What word will inspire today's post? Clams, prickly pears, confidence, Postimperialism, Antidisestablishmentarianism, Defenestration, Bjork, and Paraprosdokian.

PS-I have NO IDEA WHY I WROTE THIS PARTICULAR STORY. It just came out. Interpret at will. I am not pregnant. Just in case you thought that. As I said to my boss the other day,"There's a whole process that has to occur before that can happen!"

None of the Above
by This Girl

The fluorescent lights clicked above my head as I waited impatiently for my name to be called. It had been over an hour since I had borrowed a clicky pen from a cup at the front desk and checked in for my appointment. I had already filled out my paperwork, checking the single status that they require for some reason. My legs were asleep. The anorexic magazine selection had ceased to entertain me, and the hacking cough being forced from the lungs of the man across from me was not only getting on my nerves, but had probably transmitted some sort of virus to everyone in his vicinity. I hate doctors. Hate them. And this one was about to ruin everything.

It had started simply enough. A drunken night. A one night stand in my one bedroom apartment. An expired condom. A missed period. Wishing symptoms away had not worked. Finally biting the bullet, I called my ob/gyn and scheduled an appointment. For this day. For an hour ago.

I knew in my heart what the pee test would say. I knew as well what the sperm donor would say. I had no idea, none at all, what I was going to say. To myself. To the something growing inside me. To my parents. To my friends.

A bored looking nurse in puppy dog scrubs came through the patients door, squeaking in her bright orange Crocs as she mispronounced my name. Looking at my hacking compatriot, I grabbed my overpriced handbag, smoothed out my pencil skirt that had become a little snug in the last two weeks, and followed Nurse Humane Society into the back room, my 3 inch heels clacking on the dingy linoleum. We headed to where the humiliation was about to begin: the scale. "Hop on up, honey," Pound Puppy said, impatient with the time it was taking me to drop the purse, kick off my shoes, and unclip my phone. Every ounce counts.

"My name is not honey, " I snapped as she adjusted the weight further and further over from where it had sat for the past 5 years. "Hmm, 145...that's a jump from your last visit. Let's head to room 1." After the niceties of taking temperature and blood pressure, she asked me the question. "What are you here to see the doctor for?" Wanting to correct her incorrect grammar, I told her. The snarky expression on her face softened. She lead me to the bathroom, and I stared into the toilet, cup in hand for what seemed like an eternity.

The time had come.

Ever the perfectionist, I didn't spill a single drop as I deposited my sample ( a sample that could change my world, would change my world, oh God, what was I gonna do) and exited the small sterile bathroom . Plopping on the exam table fully clothed, I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

I was about to lose my mind when a delicate knock sounded at the door. I squeaked a "come in" in a voice I did not recognize. The doctor, followed by Nurse Scooby, entered the room with a neutral expression on her face. I couldn't read her. Scrappy Doo was an enigma as well. Had these women trained at some sort of acting school to not show any emotion as they delivered news that could shatter a person's life? I wanted to scream at them to tell me...just tell me, goddamnit!

Then they did. Slowly, calmly, they told me that the test was positive. That I was pregnant. That all the worries and the sleepless nights wondering had been confirmed. They looked at me with sympathy as I lay back on the table. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. They left me alone to recover myself.

Tear were welling up in my eyes. Why was this happening to me, now? When I finally had my life in order. When I had a career, and friends, and happy hours to go to. When I was alone and not ready. I wasn't ready. At all. Not for this. Not...

And then I looked around. Really looked around me. I saw pictures of babies. Diagrams of a child in the womb and advertisements for different types of formulas. Sample packs of pre natal vitamins.

And I started thinking, I can do this. I can do this.

And my life did change. It was shattered, but put back into place in a different formation. And I was right about the father. About how everyone would react. But they don't matter. None of it matters.

All that matters is you.

Fiction Friday.

"Hey, you GUYS!!!"

I decided that I have spent way too much time contemplating and complaining. That doesn't do much for anyone, except me as I enjoy contemplating and complaining. So, in an effort to re-ignite my creative juices (which have seriously dried up due to lack of use and apathy) I am going to write a piece of fiction every Friday and add it to my blog.

I know you're probably thinking, "But Lauren, we love your anecdotes about why you hate everyone and everything and how you want to kill people with spoons." Well, I'm sorry, dear reader (and yes, I know there is only ONE of you.) But I sorely need to spread my wings and prepare to fly. In my blog life and indeed, in my REAL life, as I do kinda have one of those. And you're probably also thinking to yourself, "But someone may see her wonderful piece of fiction and steal it and claim it as their own, make millions of dollars and laugh at her while she continues wasting away at her stinking day job." All I have to say to that is, "Yeah. Right."

So. Stay tuned tomorrow for my first stab at a Fiction Friday. Until then, enjoy this tasty little story about a date I went on recently. It's pretty silly and full of hi-jinks (or low jinks as you are about to read.)

I ran into a friend of mine from middle school at a stand up show recently. She was with a group of friends, but I was tired, cranky, and a little drunk so I made a little small talk and vamoosed. We friended each other on the Facebook, and on an evening where I was feeling a)vulnerable and b) exhausted, I agreed to go on a date with one of the gentlemen that was there that evening. I gave her my number, and immediately got a text from the guy, which lead to back and forth texting until the day of our scheduled date, a Friday night. He proposed that we go and watch The Goonies in the park after getting some dinner downtown. I swooned a little, as this seemed like a date made in heaven for nerdbag me.

Friday came and I was swamped at work. A needy bride and her teary mother held my attention until 5:45, with our scheduled meet time of 6:30. I ran home, bathed and primped, and headed out the door by ten til meet time. I texted that I would be late, and he responded that it was no big deal as I should hear what happened to him on Wednesday. I brushed this off as I searched for a parking spot and headed to our allocated meet up spot, near a fountain in downtown West Palm Beach. Assuming that my date was not the homeless man with dreadlocks sleeping on a bench, I inquired as to where he was via text message. He responded that he was down the ways a bit, so I started walking, a bit put off that he wasn't in the exact spot that we had agreed upon, but acknowledging that I was late and should suck it up.

As I approached the intersection he had mentioned, I texted again to inquire as to where I could locate him, as I couldn't see anyone matching the Facebook profile pictures I had seen whilst gently stalking him prior to the date. No response. Waiting. What seems like forever later, I get a message that says, "I'm the tiny guy in the brown shirt sitting on a post." I look across the street and there he is, in all his tiny glory. We awkwardly say hello, and he tells me we should have dinner at a sushi restaurant, though Happy Hour is almost over.

I'm gonna give highlights from now on, as I could tell the whole tale, but you'd probably be snoring by the end.

a) we order food and I'm too nervous to tell him I'm allergic to soy, so eat around the edamame on our appetizer. He eats three of 4 scallops.

b) First anecdote out of the gate is about how he went on a date on the Wednesday before (two days ago at this juncture) and the girl was so awkward and wouldn't talk and he had a horrible time. Leads to me overly trying to be delightful and entertaining.

c) He jokingly, yet vehemently, calls the waitress a bitch for being slow in bringing the check.

d) He goes to the bathroom as THE CHECK IS BEING BROUGHT TO THE TABLE.

e) I pay as we have 5 minutes until the movie starts. When he comes back, he congratulates me on being "Progressive" and slowly offers me cash. I deny it as don't want to be non-progressive.

f) Movie is fine. Til halfway through when he disappears and reappears with Skittles, a Snickers bar, a coke and a sprite. Not sure which one he got for me, I eat the Skittles as they won't make me die and refuse to select a beverage.

g) He thinks the addition of Sloth to the film is too much. Sloth is my favorite part.

h) We head to World of Beer, where he hems and haws about ordering a dark beer. Asks the waitress what her opinion is, and takes her advice. Upon taking the first sip, he calls her a bitch for telling him to get the wrong beer.

i) He gets drunk on one beer. I am not drunk enough for this.

j) We part ways. He keeps calling. I keep making up excuses for no next date, though I should just ball up and say I had fun but not interested. Maybe he'll see this blog. Maybe not.

Another one bites the dust.

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder...SLEEP NO MORE SPOILERS!

Strangely, when googling this image, I read that the 9 of Diamonds is known as the Curse of Scotland. Irony.

So. Sleep No More. Remember that picture of me in the weird white mask? We got that at the show. Here's how it went, with spoilers...so, for anyone wanting to participate in the event in the near future...stop reading. From Sleep No More's website: "Shakespeare’s classic Scottish tragedy presented through the lens of suspenseful film noir. Audiences move freely through a transporting world at their own pace, choosing their own path through the story, immersed in the most unique theatrical experience in the history of New York."

We hopped out of our cab and joined a long line of people at the door to a hotel. The outside of the building was spotted with graffiti, but as we moved up the line I realized it was consistently the same image-the outline of a man's face. A bouncer at the door ID'd us, and then sent us into a long dark hallway where we were required to check coats and purses. The coat checks recommended we take credit cards with us for the lounge area. Everything was dark, moody, but urgent. We then made our way to the front desk, which was arranged like an actual hotel counter. As we checked in, we received two playing cards, the 8 of diamonds for me and the 9 of diamonds for Tiffany. We were then directed into a dark hallway with a series of turns, and only candles placed in corners to illuminate our way. Grasping each others arms in expectation of a haunted house type scare, we allowed a couple to go ahead of us to gauge the experience. No screaming drifted back to us, so we continued on, still holding onto each other for safety and comfort. I'm pretty sure we squealed a bit anyway.

Curtains parted ahead of us, and we found ourselves in a lush, red velvet draped lounge. Normal people like us mingled with glamorous actors dressed in 1940's style clothing, all playing roles steeped in mystery and menace. A table at the front of the room, manned by young, gothic women offered champagne and shots of absinthe. I thought it would be a great idea to try this beverage that I had heard so much about but never experienced. We bought two shots, and settled into a table to await the next phase of our experience.

A striking man in a tux (Leopold) drolly called out for all guests who were carrying the 8 of diamonds to join him. I panicked, realizing that Tiffany and I were about to be split up. I looked around for any 9 of diamonds, and switched with a woman who preferred to go in by herself. Then the 9's were called.

We all were handed white masks and moved into a small room with no windows adjacent to an elevator. Our new guide, a beautiful woman with a black evening gown and ruby lips, explained that we were to wear the masks at all times, there was to be NO talking, and that the only "safe" zone in the hotel was the lounge we had just exited. We were all then herded into the elevator, the silence heavy and expectant. Our elevator attendant let small groups off at each of the 5 floors that were utilized in this massive, intense and detailed performance.

Tiffany and I exited the elevator together, and were immediately enveloped in a film noir-esque home environment that spanned the whole floor. We were busy looking at the decor, noticing little details and figuring out what was going on when movement caught our attention. The actors/dancers/spooky people who make up the cast blend into the scenery and then explode into choreographed movement that is this company's interpretation of the story of Macbeth.

It was INTENSE. Tiffany and I were separated at a couple of points, when she saw a character moving in one direction and I noticed another walking determinedly in the other. At one point, she was in a room and as I was about to step in, the character I was following turned and slammed the door in my face. We ran after people, up stairs and down, and to be honest, after walking all day and a little bit of alcohol, I had sweat pouring off of me and I was panting, ready for a rest. What seemed like hours later, we ended up back in the lounge, where a band was accompanying a beautiful woman with a voice reminiscent of Billie and Ella. We plopped into an abandoned booth, and Tiffany went to chat with our emcee, the handsome tux wearing chap. I closed my eyes and tried to collect myself. I was ready to go home. I felt someone slide into the booth next to me, and opened my eyes to greet my friend. She was still standing by Leopold. It was our female guide.

Out of sorts, I stammered hello. She looked at me through her false eyelashes, and in a husky, dramatic voice asked me if I was in love. I laughed explosively, saying, "No" a bit too emphatically. "Do you want to be in love?" she asked, almost purring. "Umm. I guess it might be nice," I answered, not really sure where this was going. "What do you look for in a man...or woman...which do you like?" was her response. "Oh, most definitely men." She stared at me. After a moments hesitation, she muttered, "I think you will find love. Soon. I feel it will happen for you. A true love. A good love."

As this was the second time on this very day that I had had someone ask me about this specific subject, and had the very same response, I felt an eerie sense of something bigger than myself in play. Maybe I was supposed to be in New York. Maybe this year is the year. And I'm not talking about romantic love specifically, but maybe a more cosmic kind of love. A universal love. Positivity coming from the ether.

Or maybe that was the absinthe talking.

Catlady told us that we should head to the ballroom for a surprise. The surprise was...well. I'll keep it a surprise. But I'll hint at it with the joke, "No NOOSE is good NOOSE." It wasn't good noose.

More to come on the NYC adventures. If you care. :)

Start spreading the news....

I'll explain this later.

All right. If you follow me on the face pages you know that I absolutely fell in love with New York. It was the best 4 days of this year (and as we're only at February 15th, that's pretty good!) This may be a boring blog about me on vacation, but you should read it. It's gonna be really good. Maybe. I dunno. I haven't had much sleep and have consumed way more alcohol than I probably should have in the short amount of time I was gone...and yesterday, as it was Valentine's Day and that's what we singles do.

A little background. My friend, Tiffany, has been badgering me to visit her in NYC. But, with trips to LA for conventions and family vacations taking up my precious time off, I had never gotten around to it. In a previous blog, I mentioned that another friend of mine was starting to mark things off of her bucket list, and I (on a whim which is how I live my life these days) decided to book a flight to New York, so that I could mark that off of my list. As I clicked the confirm button on my JetBlue order, I knew that it was going to be a life changing event, one that I desperately needed. I planned it for the weekend before Valentine's Day. I'm single, so felt this would be a gift to myself...much healthier than chocolate.

The week prior to the trip was crazy. Work blew up, my legs were wrecked from working out, and I was out of sorts. The big day came and I was stuck at work until 4:00pm, with my flight leaving at 5:30pm. Rushed drive to the airport, quick goodbye to my mom and I was paying $2 for my luggage. Nice. Hopped aboard, and was offered Popcorn Chips as a snack. Nice again.

I nearly ran from the plane to set foot in a city that has always called to me. Baggage came out quickly, was 2nd in line for a cab and barked street names in a cool, New York way that I had been mentally rehearsing for most of the flight. We zigged and zagged, and I looked out the window at a perfectly full moon bracketed by the steel and stone girders of a beautiful bridge. This was gonna be great!

I got to Tiffany's place, and paid the cabbie. My not so little duffel, backpack from my UWP days, and my bright orange pea coat surely screamed TOURIST to passersby. I called my friend, and there was no answer. She was on the subway, heading towards me and her home, but I did not know that. I panicked for a moment, then told myself that I am a grown woman so there was no need to panic. Duffel, backpack, pea coat and I headed down the block to a diner with flashing neon lights and Greek waiters who were more than generous with their attention and their compliments. I ordered breakfast for dinner, and awaited my friends arrival. I was in New York City, sitting in a booth in a diner, and sipping decaf. This was going to be great.

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.

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! :)

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.

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!

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.

Beauty Hurts...and can even kill.

This evening I had plans to have dinner with Susan, David, and Maria. It's a standing thing. Every Wednesday we get together, after Susan and Maria are done with dance in Jupiter, and it's typically around 8:45pm before we meet up to eat, drink a sensible one alcoholic beverage, and catch up. Most times I just throw on a schlumpy outfit and go with just my work make up and greasy hair. It has been a while since we have done this, as Maria and David were on their honeymoon last week, the week prior I had rehearsal, and the week before that was holiday craziness.

So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided that an evening at the Yard House (a somewhat popular local restaurant with great music and a bar designed for the meat market that is Palm Beach County) after so long without deserved special accoutrement. I curled my hair, redid my makeup, and put on skinny jeans with a sweater and my super high black heels. I hopped into my Mini Cooper, and away I drove.

I pulled out onto the main strip outside of my parents house, merged into traffic, and got up to the normal 50 mph speed limit. About a block from the red light at the major intersection I was approaching, I attempted to ease my foot off of the gas pedal to begin braking lightly, as there were cars stopped at said red light. My foot would not move. The bottom of my heel had wedged tightly in the area where the gas pedal was attached to the floor. I tugged frantically with my foot, trying to dislodge it to no avail. I felt like I was in a bad film...time slowed down, and all I could focus on was the fact that I could not brake, that I was about to plow into the back of another vehicle, potentially injuring another person or persons, and that I was basically about to die because of my ridiculous, $50 black pumps that I bought at Macy's on a whim. At least the saleslady got her commission.

In a matter of seconds, I realized that I could pull my foot out of the shoe and it would no longer be pressing on the pedal. (I am a super genius, I know.) I slammed on the brake, not realizing that I was still a good 30 feet from the car in front of me and came to a dramatic stutter stop. I gingerly made my way to my spot at the light, came to a complete stop and began to frantically tug at the stupid shoe that could have been the end of me. It would not budge. Of course, being a girl on a budget, I focused on the fact that I could not break the bottom of the shoe off, as $50 is $50.

After what seemed like an eternity, the shoe came free. I threw it on the seat next to me, and drove the rest of the way to the restaurant with one shoe off. I told my friends the tale of how I almost died, and they sympathized. 2 hours later, we headed our separate ways. I took the shoe off again, and drove with one bare foot home. About half way there, my phone rang and it was David. The first thing he uttered was, "I forgot about your shoes. Are you ok?"

I assured him that I was just fine, driving partially barefoot so I would make it safely home. We hung up, and I realized (again) that I have really great friends who will always be there for me and are cognizant that with me, everything, even footwear, can be an adventure.

The Gift that Keeps on Giving....

I have been working at a country club for three years as an administrator. Every year at the holidays, people bring in candy, cards, and gifts to show their appreciation of the work I do, and it's very nice and sweet. Sometimes the gifts are monetary, other times they are more personal. This year, I received a lovely jewelry set, some candy, some cash, and this...
The lady who brought it in was very excited about it, and told me I could put it on my desk so I could have pictures of my family to look at during the long hours that I am at work. I'm sure she assumed that I have children, or a spouse, or something to put in there that would remind me of why I am working in the first place.

I open the box, and these are the examples they have for me to go off of...
So, I need to find a man. Get me some babies. Dye my hair blond. Buy two adorable puppies. And travel. That's what this company says will make me happy, so I'd better get on it, stat.

I've got the travel part down. And I can put in photos of my old, arthritic dog, Bailey. And maybe a picture of me bungee jumping in British Columbia, or one from my future trapeze lesson I bought myself. Or a photo of me and my girlfriends in LA, or a picture of my cute little Mini Cooper. Or me on the St. Christopher Bridge in Prague, in front of the Mannequin Pis in Brussels, or at Bergen Belsen in Germany. And when people get confused by the photos and ask, "Where are the pictures of your family? Your kids? Your perfect husband and perfect pets?" I'll tell them what I always want to say, "I'm single, unattached, and adventurous. And that's good enough for me. Can it be good enough for you?"