Buy the Horse While You Can

As we pulled into the rock parking lot, I immediately noticed her hanging on the 50% off rack in front of the store.

The moment the car was in park, I kicked my door open and slammed it behind me as I bounded out. She gently swung back and forth in the breeze. Her brown hair shining in the sun.

The most beautiful plush horse backpack I ever saw.

Late for an appointment, I walked around the inside of the store a few times then waved goodbye to the backpack as I left. I’ll come back for you tomorrow. 

Normally, I don’t get hung up on material items, save for a few precious mementos. This was different. I couldn’t stop thinking about her for the rest of the night. She’ll be there when we go back. Who would buy a horse backpack? They had like a hundred turtle backpacks. The plush animal backpack market must really be taking a hit. Those turtles do look stupid though.

The next morning came and I shoved my mother out the door. As we pulled up the the shop, my mother quietly said,”Uh oh.” The racks that were on display the day before were not outside. When we got into the store, I sauntered around as to not seem too eager to demand to know where they kept their horse backpacks. My mother noticed I was hesitating, so she asked for me, like she has probably done  several hundred million times before in my shy little life.

The shop worker went to a back room and quickly came back. “Only turtles, sorry.”

My mom shot me a look, as I was eavesdropping behind a nearby jewelry stand. “Uh oh, Lauren. Don’t cry.”

I was upset but there are two key sentences that are guaranteed to get someone to cry when uttered. Those are “Are you okay?” and “Don’t cry.”

My throat tightened and I fiddled with some shitty non-horse related earrings. “I’m not. Look at these, aren’t they great?” distracting her from noticing that I was dying inside.

Still standing behind the jewelry rack, a grandmother and a little boy went up the cashier. “Do you have any more porch swings?” The deliverer of doom served some more bad news, “I’m sorry, we sold out yesterday.”

I was impressed that the little boy, who was maybe 7 years old, didn’t burst into tears like I was about to. His grandmother said, “Aw shucks, buddy. We’ll get one next time.” They left.

Alright, if he can handle not getting his seahorse shaped porch swing without making a scene, I can handle not getting a horse backpack that is uncomfortably out of my age range. You’re nearing 30, what are you going to do with a horse backpack anyway? Love it unconditionally more than any child who probably received it ever could? Yeah. You’re not even a “horse girl.” Haha horsegirl. What if I had hooves but was still a human? I couldn’t even zip the backpack. Maybe if I held it with my knees then used both hooves to pinch the zipper. What? Whatever, you shouldn’t have named her.

i’m growing to learn it’s harder when you name things that aren’t yours because you’ll get attached to it. I named the backpack Baby Hillary, after a fake character me and my friend created during a 9 hour road trip back from Canada. Hillary is a black mare who has a ‘tude-and-a-half and a penchant for sass. She’s kind of ass. When you’re music cuts out while your driving. Hillary. You can’t find your cellphone charger? Hillary. You spilled something on your shirt? It was Hillary.

Baby Hillary, though. She is an angel. She holds all your secrets and treasures and keeps them safe inside her heart/back/zipper. She listens to you and lets you brush her hair. What more could you want from a furry, inanimate, stuff-holder?

I tried looking Baby Hillary up online, and I found her, but it wasn’t the same. It felt cheap. I would only be satisfying the need of getting what I want physically, but it wouldn’t fill the void of having the REAL Baby Hillary. The one I saw and loved as she was.

I know we try and live with no regrets. It’s hard sometimes. If you see a plush horse backpack, tell him or her you love them. Bring them home and show them your things. There’s no embarrassment in expressing your feelings. That’s what we’re here for.

May you always have the wisdom and clear sight to see your Baby Hillary’s for the special one-of-kind stars in the sky that they are. Buy the horse while you can.

The Tale of Two Coffees

Hey kids!

Welcome to Stupid Sunday, where I detail something stupid I did today. ENJOY!


I go to Starbucks every single day. If you think that’s an exaggeration, please feel free look at my credit card statement and/or my Starbucks card on my phone in horror.

Every single day I order a grande vanilla iced coffee.

Every single day.

I don’t even shower every day. That’s how up there this is with “breathing” on my list of things to do.

The bottom of the cup actually filters into a tube that goes directly into my blood stream.

On my drive over to Starbucks, I was getting nervous because I was going to a location I normally don’t go to and I know it can be disgustingly busy there. To take the edge off, I started repeating the order “tall vanilla iced coffee” in my head. Mind you, the last time I ordered a “tall” anything at Starbucks, I was in 10th grade and at the time the talls were the size of what the current grandes are. Don’t worry, I feel like a giant asshole for even knowing this and talking about it publicly.

At one point during my mantra, I even caught myself. I don’t even order talls. It’s a grande. Grande. Grande. I want a venti. It’s Sunday, I’ll get a venti.  I want so much coffee I can feel the kidney stones getting ready to pass. Tall. Tall vanilla iced coffee. No it’s not a tall it’s a venti.

When I finally arrived to said Starbucks location, the line was wrapped around a beef jerky and Oprah tea display and wound out the door. All the people standing and waiting made me anxious, so I just let my eyes dart around and continued with my inner monologue turning into a vicious dialogue over coffee size.

Sure enough when  it was my time to order, “CAN I HAVE A TALL VANILLA ICED COFFEE PLEASE!”


The nice barista prepped my baby sized cup and asked if that would be all.


No, I’m a dumb idiot. Why can’t you see this pain on my face?

When I made it over to the cashier, I knew I couldn’t leave there with just a teaspoon of coffee. My heart was set on jumbo and by god, jumbo is what I would get.

The nice cashier started, “One tall vanilla iced coffee? That will be–”


This is the kind of response kids would call “no chill.” A normal person would have asked for the size to be changed. Not me, I prefer to double fist two very small coffees because that is the adult thing to do.

“Uh, sure. You want two tall vanilla iced coffees?” nice cashier asked.

“YES, ONE IS FOR A FRIEND” said the psychotic person.

Lying always helps the situation, despite no one caring if you are ordering two coffees for yourself or not.

I paid, I waited, I brought my two Barbie accessory sized coffees over to the sugar/dairy counter and proceeded to make two identical coffees because me and my friend just so happen to like our coffees the exact same way, from the half & half and whole milk combo down to the dash of cinnamon on top.

This is me. This is the choice I made. I am a real person existing in the world doing these things.


Have you ever gone out of your way to make yourself less embarrassed about a situation that literally does not matter to the rest world? Any really weird things you did to cover your tracks to avoid anyone knowing you’re an idiot?


K, I love you. Happy Sunday. Remember, Jesus is King and so is Simba.

Hey, I’m Dumb and Here’s Why: A Moment on Suicide and My Stupidity*

*Please note this post discusses suicide and may be triggering for some. The National Suicide Hotline for those in need: 1-800-273-8255.


Today I watched the Virgin Suicides for the first time. Not the most uplifting of movies, but who would’ve guessed with that title?sdfsdfsdfsdfsdf

I know I’m about 15 years too late and I’m not sure if spoilers have a “statute of limitations” but to spare anyone who hasn’t seen it, I’ll make a vague statement by saying–they talk about suicides! One of them being “sticking your head in the oven.”


Now, for someone who was very sheltered in their life and was lucky enough to grow up without having to learn from such an experience, I did not know what the logistics were behind the “sticking your head in the oven” method. I’d heard it and almost found it humorous because I pictured someone’s nana having a fit over bad manners at the dinner table and using it as a threat to get everyone to shut up, behave and eat nicely.

Me and my roommate started getting upset over the thought of this horrific way to end a life. “So do you just wait for it to heat up and you burn yourself?” and “Or do you just hit yourself with the door?” were some of the genius questions posed by these two. “How scary must it be to wait for it to preheat??”

We finally googled it out of sheer morbid curiosity.


That’s when we found out just how dumb we really are!  Apparently, it was very easy to manipulate old GAS ovens and breathe in the toxic fumes. YEAH. No one was trying to have a Gremlins moment. Thankfully, this misuse of an appliance is not as easy to partake in now.

Oh yeah and then I peed my pants laughing about how serious we took ourselves in our plight to save non-existent people from not cooking their head meat A urine-soaked cycle of chumps and chump-related thoughts.


In any case, I want to stress that I don’t find suicide itself funny because it’s not. What I find funny is how I am terribly naive and have a lot to learn about mostly everything in the world.  For example, I am still not 100% sure on how to use a can opener. Suicide just happened to be the subject of the day.

Have you ever done or thought anything so tremendously stupid, it was almost borderline adorable how much of a knucklehead you were? How did you find out that you were wrong and possibly irreversibly dumb? I NEED TO KNOW!

Stay safe! Breathe clean air! You are loved even if you don’t know how to use a can opener either. 143 123 xox pfffft.

My Arm Almost Came Off and I Lived to Tell the Tale

Hey childrens,

This week in Things I Have Done to Injure Myself in Dramatic and Stupid Ways, I nearly got my arm chopped off.

While I was trying to tuck my giant desk-sized coloring books behind the couch and the wall, I dropped them from too high up and the force made them slide a bit under the couch. I knelt on the couch and peered down the back, my forehead against the wall.

Ah! I’ll just stick my arm down there and pull them back up so they are standing!

Well, when I stuck my left arm down the back of the couch, I must’ve pushed my body weight against the back of the couch, pinning my arm between the wall and the wood frame. I knew something was wrong when my hand began immediately began to pulse and the blood rushed to my fingers.

Wow, this a lot of pain for a coloring book rescue mission.

I tried to pull my arm out but with every tug it felt more and more like my arm was in  a vice-grip or like when the doctor takes your blood pressure and tries to pump your arm until it explodes.

I tried to to use my right arm and pull the back of the couch quickly enough to free the other. Unfortunately, this couch has had a real sour attitude ever since we accidentally dropped it down a flight of stairs while moving in.

After about of minute of panic and wondering if my roommate would find my dead body hanging over the couch, I tried to use my body weight and shift the couch opposite of how I body slammed it against one of my extremities. Too bad the two front feet of the couch were firmly placed on our short haired carpet. Sure, I could push the couch and the back legs would slide on the tile but pulling it against the carpet was not happening. I was defeated.

Here I am sawing my arm out of from behind my couch.

So, did a super hunk hear my cries for help and kick down my door and ripped the couch from underneath me?

Obviously not, you big dummy!

But I did rip a generous amount of skin off while pulling it out. I tried to manipulate the ever-so-delicate, non-muscle parts of my arm (read: squished my arm fat around) but it just felt like my bone was snapping in half when I moved it. I did have a nice little dry heave and .03 second black out BUT I MADE IT! And I guess now I have a scar I can make up cool stories about.

Do you have any scars with interesting and possibly not true stories? Did you really just drop your coloring books down the back of your couch?


K I love you and also brownies. GOODNIGHT!

Do Not Microwave Your Dirty Sponge or You Will be a Sad Person

Are you a sad person? Is it because you microwaved your sponge?

I know most of you cried out with  resounding “YES!” to both those questions, so I’ll just cut to the chase.

If for by some reason you answered “no” to the second question, which I know is highly unlikely, then I’m going to dispense some Baz Luhrmann advice on you. Also, Luhrmann autocorrected when I spelt it wrong and that frightens and delights me. Anyways, DO NOT MICROWAVE YOUR SPONGE. But yes, wear sunscreen.

If this seal can do it, then you can do it too!

After seeing a post about cleaning your kitchen, I read some of the tips listed–one of which was “microwave your sponge to kill bacteria!” Good idea in theory BUT what is not mentioned is the fact that although the germs may be dead, they also die a fucking wretched, butt-smelling death. You know when your sponge has worn down and it has gross dirty dishwater smell? Yeah, it’s like that but only HOT and like someone wiped the sponge up their asshole.

Here we are in the Pit of Eternal Stench.

Don’t do it, unless your into a buttonhole smelling sponge thing. I’m sure there’s a section of the internet that caters to that. So, I bet you are looking for a solution now that I’ve busted that myth? Well, I don’t have one because I’ve lost all sense of smell after that experiment and won’t be able to conduct any further tests. Please send clean sponges in lieu of flowers.

Have you ever tried a dumb hack and found out that it was really dumb? Tell me in the comments so I can avoid doing those dumb things! I should show you my cream cheese Oreo truffles I tried to make. They were as gross as that sounds.

Okay! I love you! Go buy some nice fresh sponges and don’t stick them up your butt unless they are the feminine sponges but then again those don’t go up your butt either OKAY BYE DON’T BE A SAD PERSON!

Songs That Make Me Feel Feelings and Think About Life and Stuff

Hey kids,

Remember when I used to post songs I was listening to compulsively or the week?

Yeah, me neither. It’s been so long and I’m probably still listening to the same songs.

BUT let’s dive right in because I want to listen to all these songs again as soon as possible. Links are in the titles.

Let’s go!

           Fantasia will show us the way!

First Up!

What: “Teenage Talk”- St. Vincent– First heard at the end of a Girls episode (like most songs I become obsessed with, obviously).  Why: I can sing in Annie Clark’s range! Hooray! But also because the song is the perfectly bittersweet. Listen to it if you want to be nostalgic about your teen years and the friends you had then. What Else: “How do you see me now, now that I’m a little bit older?” If you’re picturing me sobbing in my car, staring at the increasingly visible laugh lines around my eyes in the rearview mirror, then you are right!



What: World Spins Madly On – The Weepies. Heard them in college and nearly shit my pants when I found out they were from Cambridge, MA. Deb Talan and Steve Tannen’s love story is one worth looking up if you have ever lost faith in romance. Why: Aside from the adorable monster music video, I think their harmonies are the greatest in the world next to Simon and Garfunkel’s. Is that a stretch? I don’t care. What Else: “I woke up and wished that I was dead.” Amiright?


Third,Third,Third. Third’s the Word.

What: M83- Wait. This may sound familiar to many, as it was the song that made you want to die during the movie version of The Fault in Our Stars. Why: If you have ears and a heart, this should be a giveaway. Do you have a face and eyes that you can stare longingly out the window with when you listen to this song? Good. Be as melodramatic as possible. What Else: Are you staring wistfully out a train window yet?


Borth, Fourth, Borth! (Sounds Sort of Like the Swedish Chef?)

What: Style- Taylor Swift. Yeah, I know but I did NOT appreciate this song when it first came out. Also, I don’t listen to the radio a lot so it has not been ruined for me. Hehe. Why: The intro guitar is catchy as frick, What Else: This song makes me incredibly sad, but the kind of sad I might be addictive to inflicting upon myself. “I said I’ve been there too a few times.” GET HIM, TAYLOR.



What: The Drugs Don’t Work- The Verve. One night I was looking up “saddest songs” and this came up. Want to be depressed and contemplate your own mortality? Then this is the song for you, my friend! Why: I like contemplating my own mortality. What Else: Dark and sadness. That’s pretty much all I have for this song.

            Recent picture of me crying.


Now that we have enjoyed all the sad feelings, let’s draw the WILD CARD which is a song that makes me feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin because it riles me the fuck up.

What: It’s the End of the World As We Know It -R.E.M. Sounds like it wouldn’t be a joyous song but it’s so darn upbeat I can’t help but tear my shirt off and run around the room when it comes on. Why: Michael Stipe talking fast. Yay! What Else: “You symbiotic, patriotic, slam but neck, right? Right.”



That’s it. Those are my feelings. And to think it only took be about two hours to articulate them with the help of some very lovely gifs. Do you have any songs you compulsively listen to for no reason? I need to know, please tell me.


“Yes And” Your Way to a Promotion*†!

Boss got you down with his latest fribble-frabble nonsense boss talk?

“You’ve been 20 minutes late every day to work but still put down your overtime when you work 5 minutes passed close.”


Your boss will be so taken back by your leadership skills, he’ll blankly stare at you (obviously impressed) and never doubt your superiority again!

Kooky coworker questioning your choice to hang up on a client with no valid reason other than they were boring the fuck out of you?


If Suzy gets cute and tries to follow up with “…and it’s incredibly inappropriate and not tolerated here” simply place your hand over Suzy’s scrunchy little face and give a gentle love push. Just enough to show YOUR authority but just little enough so she doesn’t call THE authorities. If done correctly, she’ll be overcome with how bold and charming you are and she’ll be totally cool about it.

Tired of a hard mornings work and you’re trying to enjoy a nice sandwich in the breakroom when Tony from HR tries to kill your vibes? “But you’re eating my sandwich—“


Don’t mistakeTony’s horrified look for weakness. He’s a snake and snakes can only be killed by shoving sandwiches down their throats. Survival 101. You’re welcome.

*The author of this list cannot be held accountable for any jobs terminated from following the aforementioned instructions. Author must receive 10% of any promotion money earned if acquired.

†Not the be confused with the building block phrase “yes and” that nurtures a healthy and constructive improvisation environment.

Like these tips and want more? Check out our full list of tips from the hot book “Yes And” Your Way to a Promotion, now featured on Amazon Prime!