"How Do You Know," I want my money back?

Who would have known she'd disown me for one film?!?!

Dear Hollywood,

I took my *ahem* year old grandmother on a date last night. We decided to go to see a film, and knowing Grandma and her sentimental bend, I decided to purchase an adult ticket ($10) and a senior pass ($7) for the loosely plugged hit romantic comedy "How Do You Know?" No concessions were harmed in the viewing of this film. Had I purchased a $20 popcorn or 57 oz Coke, one or both would have flown at the screen towards the end of this putrid excuse for a comedy. As the super elderly couple in the front row stated, loudly, as the end credits ran down the screen, "That was a stupid movie." I didn't even mind the fact that they talked, loudly, through the entire film, as I KNEW I WAS NOT MISSING ANYTHING.

To say I am a little upset at the wasted potential of this film is an understatement. I've been a fan of Reese Witherspoon in past films in this genre, and had high hopes that her ethereal presence would make me like her character, Lisa, who was basically a shell of a woman with no path, no goals except to figure out which of the not so great male leads she would end up with at the conclusion of this stinker of a film. Paul Rudd has been a favorite of mine since his initial role in Clueless, to the point where I actually sat through "The Chateau" because of my love of his quirky smile and gorgeous green eyes. His portrayal of George, a lost soul going through a rough patch in his life, would have been endearing had he not been so annoying. Owen Wilson, as Matty, is his typical idiot self, and though I sometimes find him charming, in this film he was just a blank slate and a jackass. Jack Nicholson was completely misused in this film, with James L. Brooks directing him to basically be loud.

Even the supporting cast was wasted in this movie, with no snarky best friend for the leading lady, and a weird secretary/friend for George played by Kathryn Hahn, usually a comedic support superstar who I love to see do anything. Not so in this movie. Her character, an overly emotional pregnant woman with episodic rage, was trite and a bit too over the top for the context of the film. Yawn. Challenge this woman, for goodness sake!!

It felt like the cast was sleeping through this entire 2 hour 10 minute movie. If you are going to make a romantic comedy that is that long, please, for the love of all that is holy, give it some spark and at least throw in a romantic tune from Norah Jones or Sara Bareilles for the sentimental saps who will pay to see this movie again on DVD or on Netflix.

Please, Hollywood. Challenge us as your audience, and challenge these actors. Let's see their talents shine rather than tarnish their reputations. Direct them. Build worlds for us to experience. Take us on a journey. Let me live vicariously through these characters, not want to kill myself from disappointment. Thanks.

Sincerely,

Lauren

*Edited cause Grandma read it and got mad that I put her age.

I was dumped...by an elf.

I was on the phone with my friend and comic book artist, Bailee, last night for about an hour. She had called me about 10 minutes before my drive to Ft. Pierce, and mentioned that she had e-mailed me something. In the midst of catching up, I regaled her with the following tale. I think it's funny, and please know (should you be the offending party and read this) that I am a-ok, and there are no hard feelings whatsoever. It's just hilarious.

I was invited to a pub crawl with a gentleman I had been seeing for about 2 months. Very casual, very slow due to my hesitancy with wholeheartedness. The pub crawl was to take place on a Saturday, and everyone was supposed to dress like Santa Claus. I didn't have a costume, so I went on a spree. My sister gave me a shiny red and green skirt. I bought white tights and a cardigan sweater, a little santa hat headband(with mistletoe), jingle bell jewelry, and bright green eyeliner with bright red lipstick. I put a couple of Christmas stockings over my shoes...it made them look like fabulous, red Ugg boots.

The gentleman in question picked me up, and he was dressed like Buddy the Elf, complete with syrup and candy. It seemed that it would be a fun night...I was nervous to meet his friends, and as a pretty much non-drinker I was also nervous that I would make an ass out of myself.

The evening was amazing. His friends liked me, I bought them shots, I danced on a bar, met a lot of fun people and had a rare night out where I just let go and joined the masses in celebration of life. He and I were affectionate all night. I was hit on inappropriately. It was great.

The night came to an end for the two of us, and he decided it was time to go home. We pulled up to my house, and the words, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something," came tumbling out of his mouth. He then broke up with me, for reasons that don't need to be listed here.

So, I'm telling my friend Bailee this tale. I end with the statement, "My life is like a really bad romantic comedy. Think about it. I was dumped, by an elf, while I was dressed like Santa."

Moments later, she and I hung up, and I checked my e-mail. She had drawn a Christmas card, featuring one of the characters from the comic book I wrote and that she is doing beautiful illustrations for. The character, Cassie, is based mostly on me in terms of personality and life experience. Here is Bailee's genius. This is the best case of Christ-met ever!! Thanks to Bailee for renewing my faith in the holidays! And by the way, I'm Lou. :)

Crappy Holidays!

I am not a Scrooge. I am not a Grinch. I am a new type of holiday Villain. My name is the SATYOWATWTOYTH. It's a little long, but stands for Single Almost Thirty Year Old Woman At The Worst Time of Year, The Holidays. I wear high heels every day. I put on make-up every morning. I make myself presentable to the world at every moment of every day as everyone I know tells me I am most likely to meet the love of my life at the least suspected moment. And God forbid that moment arrives and I have no eye liner on. And during the holidays, these efforts are for naught.

It's the time of year that is the worst (barring Valentine's Day which is a crock of s&*t anyway) for people in my situation. A time when jewelry companies advertise that bauble that says to the world, "I love this person!" When visions of romance and family life are at an all time maximum on television, billboards, and newspaper advertisements. When the childless feel the ticking of the biological clock, and the loveless feel the ache of a heart devoid of romantic love. Family and friends abound, but there is still always the feeling of being the odd one out.

Not only is it rough because of the love that abounds during the season, but which always seems to elude you...it's also a time of year when a single person's bank account is stretched to within an inch of it's life. I know everyone gets hit hard during the holidays, buying gifts and food and all the accoutrement that accompany a typical happy Holiday. But with one income, things seem a little tighter. I have started getting all of my couple friends gifts that will work for both, so I don't spend as much on the individual gifts. The gift exchange amongst my family members helps a lot, but I always feel a need to get everyone a little something. Luckily, for now I live with my parents so it's pretty easy to budget accordingly. But it's still terrifying to buy gifts when one is used to only spending on the necessities.

So, no Bah Humbug. No dog with reindeer antlers pulling a sleigh. Just a single lady looking forward to a lot of eggnog and Christmas cookies.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Only Lauren sat stirring, clicking her mouse;

With foam curlers tied all up in her hair,

In hopes that some fullness soon would be there;

The family was all nestled so snug in their beds,

While gifts for their sweethearts danced in their heads;

I sat at my desk, portable computer on my lap

And couldn't sleep after my afternoon nap,

The ticking of keystrokes created such a clatter,

But there was no one awake to ask "what's the matter?"

Minimizing the windows, I updated my flash,

Grabbed some holiday candy from my well hidden stash.

Images from up North of new-fallen snow

I clicked between all the windows below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But an ad for a dating site, for me to find someone dear,

The process was easy, designed to find someone quick,

I clicked on a profile for someone named Nick.

More rapid than eagles a reply quickly came,

And I whistled, and shouted, and told him my name;

"Now, I want you to know, I'm not always a vixen!

But time is running short, and I need a date with all the fixin's!"

To the New Year's Eve gala! to the dropping of the ball!

Now kiss away! kiss away! kiss away all!"

As dry spells that before the wild hurricanes fly,

My hopes they rocketed straight toward the sky,

So into my closet to choose an outfit I flew,

With the dress from Franchesca's and my black pumps too.

I then attempted to remain aloof

As I gazed out my window, across to the roof.

I spied a man there, with his sled upon the ground

Through the front door, Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his toe,

He must have been boiling, without any snow;

Flowers behind his back he’d chosen to stick,

Though he looked nothing like his profile pic.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

Though smoking's a no-no and he set fire to our wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

I would have started working out, if I'd gained all that myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon confirmed what I had come to dread;

This online relationship just wouldn’t work,

Because I could tell that this St. Nick was truly a jerk,

And laying his finger inside of his nose,

Digging for gold, I really suppose;

He sprang to his car, and he gave me a whistle,

And away he flew, his car like a missile.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

Domestic goddess

I have never claimed to be a whiz in the kitchen. I'm a little attention deficit. Dinner for me is typically meeting friends out or driving through. I barely passed home economics in middle school, and I'm pretty sure the only reason I did was that the teacher pitied me in my ineptitude with needles, thread, flour and sugar. She knew I was never going to be the perfect housewife or even a sub par one at that. So, I got a C for a crooked heart shaped pillow I hand sewed and a cake that was barely passable as a food item. Since then, I have perfected 3 dishes that are my go to recipes for dining. Chicken Marsala, lasagna, and a dessert known to my family as Sex in a Bowl. Easy peasy.

I've been pondering lately what it means to be domestic. As a 29 year old woman who has really never been on the cusp of any sort of matrimonial situation, I began to wonder whether it was a lack of culinary ability that might be detracting from my value as a long term girlfriend. It sounds sexist, but I was grasping at straws.

I thought it would be an interesting experiment to see if I could just follow a recipe. I grabbed my mother's cookbook. I pulled out her fancy Kitchen Aid mixer. I followed each step in an almost manic attempt to prove ixethat I can cook. No, I didn't let the butter get to room temperature before mixing it. No, I didn't have lemon zest, cause it was late at night and our porch light is broken and I couldn't see if any of the lemons on the tree were yellow. Yes, I did sift the dry ingredients. I baked it for the time recommended. And it was tasty...as batter. Once I baked it, it had a dry consistency that didn't immediately scream Pound Cake to me. But, covered in enough Redi-whip, anything tastes good. Maybe I'll try again.

Maybe not. There's a shiny object in the corner of my eye. I'm going to go check it out.