The Internet: A Scene

Here is a scene based on a true story.


(On phone)  Lauren isn’t sociable. She comes home then hides up in her room all night.


(To mother)  That’s not true! I haven’t been in my room since the WiFi dropped up there!

           (Blankly stare are each other.)


Where in the World is Lolo Sandiego?


That’s my new happenin’ slang phrase!


That’s okay, I’ll get to talk to you about my day and nights, which are just me eating different things and sitting down with my sick obsession of trying to make myself laugh. And you precious babies too, I want you to laugh and when you have wrinkles around your eyes when you’re older you can look at yourself in the mirror and blame me for having such lovely character in your face. (Or send me a bill for all your anti-aging cosmetics). HEHE.

Off topic. Back on topic. Question of the day: Where have you travelled? 

I’ve travelled to some places. Furthest south I’ve gone was on a trip to Mexico, or as my family likes to refer to it as “the vacation from hell.” I’ll tell you that story another time.

The furthest I’ve gone west is Ohio, where I lived for a few years, and recently visited to be in my best friend’s wedding (I was Julia Roberts [no I wasn’t]).

The furthest I’ve gone north is Maine, during a gay pride motorcycle rally, which was scary and adorable.

AND the furthest I’ve gone east is where I’m sitting right now (half true, but I’m not going to tell you which half).

I would like to travel more because I like the thought of being somewhere I’ve never been before and having that experience, but also being someplace that’s experiencing me for the first time too.

Ew, there’s a non fair-trade hair in my organically grown bark coffee.

Alright well, it’s Friday, so it’s time to put on my shark pajamas and spend 4 hours sweating in them trying to make a 15 second video of a Troll doll doing the Macarena.

Until next time my little waffle tarts!

Coke Whore

I’m sorry, did you say something? I couldn’t hear you over the cracking of my sweet, delicious Coke.

The cracking of the can, the first sip of crisp liquid love.

I’ve fallen back into my old habits.

When I was in 6th grade I would have a minimum of 5 cans per day, along with 2 meatball Hot Pockets. I stopped drinking it and lost a bunch of weight, but now over 2 years out of college I find myself standing in front of the display at CVS wondering which package will come home with Mama.

I touched that one, but I saw that one first. Well I can’t just choose between my children. You both can come home! (Cue me walking out of the store with a 12 pack under each arm.)

I get into my car and there are cans in all the designated cup holders. The trash bag in the back seat is filled to the brim with cans that clink around as a drive, just like Santa’s sleigh bells.

I didn’t really see the problem with it. I love what I love and it’s the one thing, you know, besides friends and family and bler blah barf, that I can rely on.

I did question myself as I was sitting at my desk, watching some stand-up, when reached for my Coke. I started to take a sip when I came out of my Coke haze and remembered I hadn’t put my Coke on my desk. I looked over at my night stand and my darling cherub sat there in all it’s beautiful red glory, shining like the angel of mercy it is.

I looked down at the Coke in my hand and realized it was probably from when I was cleaning my room the weekend prior.

That would explain the green fuzz growing around the mouth piece. I thought maybe this can came with it’s own terrarium. Got to be environmentally conscientious these days.

I mean, even the name Coke, sounds like the noise it makes when you open the can. The freshness. The bubbles dancing around on my tongue. Sweet relief.

At any rate that’s where I am, squealing with delight over a box of Cokes that still have the polar bears on the can, even though the box didn’t indicate they were the winter edition.

Now that is a true treasure.

Until next time, my Chipsqueaks!

Simply “No”

Rejected list. This one didn’t even get a critique.


List of Symptoms of Tattoo Remorse/Your Dad Dying

1) You wake up the day after thinking, “Oh shit” and “God, Whhhyy?!**”

2) You can’t stop crying, your pillow case begins to grow mold.

3) You try to reason with quantum physics. Similar to the hit movie, Christmas Every Day, starring Erik von Detten.

4) You stop exercising for up to 6 months to one year. “It hurts to much to leave the house” quickly turns to “Can we go to the Olive Garden?”

5) Your friends start to hate you. You needy, self-absorbed little shrew.


**Note: Typically followed by a stern fist shaking towards your dust-caked ceiling fan.

“No Thanks”

A rejected list! Not very original but it still makes me chortle.


Ungrateful Bitch (Other Things Bruno Mars Would Do For You)

Eat a pinecone for you.

Try not to gag when he looks at your mangled toes for you.

Pretend not to see that giant booger hanging out for your nose for you.

Delouse your ferrets for you.

Ignore that disgusting birthmark on your chin for you.

Inhale your pungent sausage pizza farts for you.

Pretend to enjoy Kim and Khloe Take Papua New Guinea for you.

Grin and bear 45 minutes of being in your mother’s presence for you.

Pretend he didn’t see that text from your ex-boyfriend for you.

Forget that he gave up grad school to watch your miniature chi-weenie full time while you tried to “find yourself” at community college, for you.