Songs I Listen to Compulsively (6/3)

Hi BingBongs,

Links in the titles, here’s the music I’ve been bothering my coworkers with this week.

Until the Last Moment – Yanni – It’s probably no fricken secret that I like “new age” music but did you know my family has an unbreakable obsession with Yanni? It’s true, I assure you! When Yanni: Live at the Acropolis aired almost 20 years ago, my family watched every airing at full volume, bought the CD set, and taped over the VHS of my Christening to record it. Most people might be real cheesed off but clearly they have not listened to this aural perfection. The link even has young hunky Yanni smiling like an angel as he plays God’s music. All hail Yanni.

Shadow Dancing – Andy Gibb – I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I can’t stop.

Something In The Air – Thunderclap Newman – RIP Andy “Thunderclap” Newman. This song rules and if you don’t think so then you can just go kiss a hedgehog and tell me how it is because they’re pretty cute.

 

And now for Songs That Are Compulsively Listening to Me, the winner is Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”  for making some sort of  appearance EVERY DAY in my life for the past two weeks. I don’t know what’s happening but I think it wants me to be its new mom. It’s also one of those songs that make me simultaneously delighted and depressed so I don’t know what the universe is trying to tell me, except maybe I should take up a Jersey accent and make it my edge.

Alright children, it’s time to for me to get an underwhelming amount of sleep. Just know that  I debated putting a Dave Matthews song on here but solely for the bass line and I want you to know this because we have no secrets. Please love me.

Okay bye143smooch

Nickelback, Game of Thrones, and Other Fun Things

Hey BingBongs,

I flossed my teeth a few minutes ago so you could say things are really falling into place for me. I even changed my bedsheets which listening to Rockstar. Before you lay into me, we can all join hands and agree that Nickelback is the most hated band BUT you can’t tell me that you don’t sing all the goddamn words to Rockstar and don’t act like Billy Gibbons doesn’t look cool as fuck and he’s not even trying to look like he’s lipsyncing anything remotely close the the words. The secrets and shame stop here.

In other news, Grace and Frankie has a second season on Netflix and it is DELIGHTFUL. If you like complex relationships and people saying the word fuck then you are in for a real treat. That’s my recommendation, a tres niche audience.

Also, Game of Thrones is a show that people watch. I’m having a hard time watching it lately because  I realized that there is no way this series is going to have a happy ending and every character I hold dear to my hear will get slaughtered eventually. It’s taken the thrill out of it. Then again, I did just rent Inside the Actor’s Studio DVD from the library so I might not be the best judge of what is good and cool.

I don’t have my glasses on so god knows what any of this says, so fret not cutie-pies, my motorskills are not deteriorating before you this day.

Ok, I am tired though.  I love you 143 831 smooch bye. xo

Look Ma, Gray Hair

Hey Nana-Lovers,

I rented a few DVDs from the library this week because my hair is starting to gray and I’m trying to take it in stride. I should add that those few DVDs were all various seasons of Inside the Actor’s Studio with James Lipton. That may be my penance for ripping one of my gray hairs out when no one was looking.

Do you write gray or grey? I’ve always written “gray.” It looks better. “Grey” reminds me of murky tap water or a dense fog and it makes my nana-bones hurt. Also, Grey Goose tastes like feet. Also, Christian Grey likes to taste feet. Coincidence? I don’t know, I haven’t read the book so I don’t even know if that’s true but it probably is so yay.

My mom started graying in her teens and my dad started graying closer to his 40s so I don’t know what’s going on with me but I’m rounding the corner to 27 and I have enough wiry strands to pluck out and makelife-like whiskers for a sock puppet cat. I met someone the other day who had a voice like a sock puppet, or how I imagine a sock puppet would sound. It was a very deep man voice and had a slow and careful way of enunciating words. It might have been a gorilla, I don’t know.

I just did my nails so the fumes might be making me delusional. Or it was the drugs I did in college. Hey-o! My nails are Barbie pink but the color is called “Purple Panic” and I really would like to see someone about this because it’s not even close to a magenta or orchid, let alone a PURPLE. What an outrage. I’ve also had this nail polish for 10 years so the chemical content coming off my nails and into my nostrils is probably not favorably to my case.

Any ways, I’m tired and I haven’t been to work on time in two years.

k love you bye smooch 143xo

 

Ah, Delightfully Offensive Cartoons Make My Heart Glad

I had ice cream four times in two days and I feel like I’m dying.

I’ve wrapped myself in my 47lb furry bathrobe and have been horizontal for the past five hours.

When I’m lethargic, dyslexia takes the wheel and uses the monster truck for a Sunday drive over my motor skills. While trying to add No Doubt’s “Hella Good” to a playlist (shut up), I typed in “Hood Gel” and surprisingly still managed to find the song without having to retype it. Take pleasure in the small successes. Also, I think Hood Gel would be a great name for a gel that promises to cement your hair down so you can wear a hood and pull it off without ruining your hairstyle. Nvm, I just filed for the patent, sorry.

Needing a pick-me-up, I started looking for Tiny Toons videos, as one does when they are tired and need to refresh themselves mind, body and soul.

Thankfully, I found the perfect video. Now I can pinpoint the exact moment my childhood started falling apart.

This is probably why I started doing comedy. At least now I have an accurate timeline for my memoir.

My power just went out so I think that’s a sign that maybe I should get off my computer for 10 minutes and get up and walk around and maybe breathe clean air instead of mouth-breathing into my bathrobe collar that I have covering my entire face.

alright, darlings – inhale, exhale, smoochsmooch143

Might as Well Face It, You’re Addicted to L…ooking at Your Phone

Hi My Little Sweetheart Darlings,

I’ve come to face the fact that I am a slave to my iPhone.

200

Please say you’re at least 50% charged.

I meditate, I read books about spiritual consciousness and  ego, I take probiotics, I DO IT ALL. Yet still, when I see other people craned over their phones I think, Huha! Thank God that’s not me!   … and it is absolutely, 100% me.

Every night to wind down, I think about climbing onto my bed to meditate and then get under the covers to read for bit. In reality, I climb onto my bed, think about meditating for five minutes, decide to skip it and get under my covers to read, take out my phone  and look at it for two hours instead, decide I’m finished and pick up the book and fall asleep with the book on my face three sentences later.

I talk about how great meditation and stillness is while I’m still holding my phone a millimeter away from my eyeballs. I move from post to post from app to app and if the first thing doesn’t entertain me, then I know there are literally millions of videos, pictures, tweets, I could look through to preoccupy my thoughts from focusing on my very own mortality. I think it’s also the reason going to the movie theaters seems like an a laborious task. What if the movie is boring? YOU MEAN I HAVE TO SIT THERE AND WATCH IT INSTEAD OF FLIPPING THROUGH 500 THINGS THAT MAY POSSIBLY NUMB ME INTO THINKING I’M NOT BORED. Even while writing this post, I’ve looked at four different articles, opened Facebook three separate times, bought $144 worth of clothes off NastyGal, and made myself an ice cream.

Holy Christ.

There are so many things I want to do. I have a giant coloring pad the size of a mini-fridge with all the goals I want to meet with writing and comedy written on it. If I lived without my phone like I did in middle school, coming home, watching Garfield & Friends, then coloring or drawing or singing or dancing to Brandy alone in my room, I’d most likely be cranking out projects at a much higher rate or consistency.

I did join a few writing groups, mostly women, and every day at least 5-10 people share all the great essays or articles they have published all over the place. Despite having a few things published, seeing other people do it demystifies the process for me and dispels the fear that the writing biz is washed up. If you write it, they will publish. 

giphy (1)

The challenge now is to put into practice what I think about doing which shutting off my goddamn phone for five minutes and creating something that people may benefit from.

If you haven’t listened to the Pete Holmes podcast “You Made it Weird” with Garry Shandling as the guest, I suggest you find the time. Garry nails it by explaining that yeah, we say all these thousands of heartfelt mantras and quotes, but Jesus Christ, you have to LIVE by what they say instead of just reading them and being like, “Yeah! I get it!”

Now the sneaking feeling that I’m being unproductive it setting in. I’m going to go do overkill and try to work on ten different projects at once, burn out, and be mad at myself for not finishing anything and look at my phone for four hours. Hehe!

giphy (2)

Okay my dears, smoochsmoochsmooch bye143.

 

Reading is Fundamental and so is Writing Too, I Guess

Hey Klingons,

I found out today that there is a small publishing company accepting non-represented work to be considered for print. HOORAY! This is great news.

Also, the deadline is in exactly one month.

What the Christ is my game plan, you ask? I have no idea. I guess pick a subject? A theme? I’m leaning towards either my childhood traumas or the jobs I’ve hated. So really, shitting my pants as a child versus shitting my pants as an adult. Or I could write three hundered and fifty pages on how I’ve spent $75  on ice cream delivery in one week. You would spend that much too if you found out there was an ice cream delivery store open until 2am right up the street from you.

I’ve joined a couple of online writer’s groups and it’s been the most motivating experience. Every single day, people post all the great things they are working on and have had published. Meanwhile I’m thinking, Oh. You guys actually work on stuff? You use your ideas and work on them until you feel they’re finished? Interesting. What a concept. Maybe I’ll try that.

 The discipline of sitting down to write without any idea of what you even want to say terrifies me. With that being said, this blog is completely stream of conscious. As for the overall topic, throughout the day if I become aware  I’m consistently thinking of a particular subject, I’ll think Oh yeah, maybe I should write about that in my blog! Then return to picking my nose and swallowing my gum.

I have this welcome mat sized coloring pad I started using to write down (in crayon) all the working titles of my stories. If asked on the street to share a story from my life, I’d go glassy-eyed, start slurring my words, and tell  you about my favorite Beanie Baby (Sparky). When I’m home and need to come up with enough essays for a book in under a month, then the list of ideas and stories comes in handy. I suggest you also revert to your childhood and buy a coloring pad the size of refrigerator.

For the next few weeks, this blog will probably be turning into my sounding board for what should go into the collection and what should never see the light of day again. Buckle up kids because Click-it or Ticket but also some real family truths may surfacing. Let’s enjoy it while we can.

Okay, bye! smoochxoxo

 

#LoveQuest2016

Hi BeanBags,

I’ve been single for almost 5 years now and for the past year  I’ve been dipping my furry little toes into the dating pool. I’ve been wondering around long enough now to enlist someone to watch  and do the commentary for me. Also, I use the word “dating” very loosely here, as it’s more like me falling in love with a stranger who happened to catch eyes with me because I was blocking the exit of the Starbuck we were in. WHATEVER, BRAD. ENJOY YOUR FRICKEN LATTE.  #LoveQuest2016

I tried OKCupid and it was a fun experiment to see if this ol’ girl could still turn up the charm. However, the crippling fear that my picture was better looking  than the real life version of me had me too scared to meet anyone because I can tell myself I’m ugly. I don’t need BingBong from Dorchester telling me I should get a nose job and veneers.

According to The Secret, I should start making room in my life if I want a buddy to hang out with and smooch me and tell me my hair smells like lavender. I like living in clean spaces and, that being said, my room is a rathole. Everything is fresh and delightful and I have fun trinkets you can play with but storage is not on the top of the selling points for the apartment. Everything doubles as a shelf. Bed, desk, windowsill. All shelves. When one is in use, you just have the rotate which one is going to be the main shelf, then disperse the rest accordingly. I’ve been cleaning up and making room on my shelves so my beau, which I’ve conjured with the law of attraction, can sit down and watch me brush my hair for 45 minutes and talk about how small cotton balls are getting.

To add to the atmosphere, I have lovely beeswax and coconut oil candles. However, the faint scent of farm fresh potting soil from the flower bed outside never ceases to waft in at just the right time. No, Brad. Maybe YOU shit your pants. #LoveQuest2016

I’ve been going out to events and social gatherings more than usual, because unless he drives the pizza delivery car, then I’m most likely not going to meet anyone inside my house. I’m one step away from walking around Boston asking “Are you my mother?” but only replace “mother” with “boyfriend,” “soulmate,” or “twin flame.” There are a lot of people, someone is bound to respond favorably.

I’ll report  back if any of my rituals calls forth a worthy mate for my hair brushing ceremony. How’d you guys meet your partners? Tell me. Is it close by? I’ll be right over.

xosmooch143bye

 

 

Weed, Brah.

For a short period of time, a few years back, I used to smoke weed and chomp on edibles. As one would expect, I was reminded of that time today when every social media outlet I follow blew up with 4/20 mentions. Despite being a short-lived period, the memories from that time are some of the funniest and most vivid moments  I still think about. Let’s reminisce on the more outrageous ones, shall we?

  • I used to ride my bike in my college town all the time. After one particular evening of smoking, I rode my bike to a 7-11 and bought a bag of powdered Donettes and ate the whole bag in three minutes. I dropped one on the ground in the sandy parking lot. I picked it up, pulled a screw out of it and ate it any way.

 

  • Avoid getting “too high” at all costs. It’s horrible and you feel like you’re dying. With that being said, I was on day two of coming down from a high and had to go to my ceramics class. The radio was on and I was at the wheel in demonstrating Demi Moore realness and was making a massacre of the vase I was attempting to form. The 30-something-year-old ceramics teacher sat behind me (with permission, as he did with all the students) to help me figure out the finger work. Once he sat down behind me and the wheel was on, we started forming a vase. Then I fucking kid you not, “Unchained Melody” from the Righteous Brothers came on over the radio. We both immediately stiffened up in true UH OH form. Trying to take the awkward tension out of our Ghost recreation project, he said, “well this is fitting.” I hit the speed pedal on my wheel and the vase shot off into oblivious nearly taking the head off one of my classmates.

 

  • My favorite story starts off with me drooling in the back seat of my friend’s car and listening to the Sound of Silence on the way to the movie theatre. That should’ve been a big Blue’s Clues pawprint right on my face as evidence that I should’ve stayed home. Thor just came out so we headed over for the late show. The theatre was huge with multiple levels but I had zero problems finding the sole Ben & Jerry’s stand and having a forty-seven thousand calorie jumbo frappe made from three different ice cream flavors before the movie started. I remember being extremely tired after dosing my innards with cookie dough products but I remember the effects were crazy and Loki screaming “TELL ME!” The next day at lunch we all talked about the movie and I mentioned how glad I was we saw it in 3D and that it really added a cool layer to the movie. After a beat of silence and looks from everyone, one of my friends said, “We didn’t see it in 3D.” Stunned and convinced they must be trying to fool me, I mentioned that we wore the 3D glasses and everything, to which I was met with the reply, “Lauren, those weren’t 3D glasses, you were just wearing your sunglasses during the entire movie.”

 

Have any dumbo stories of your youth or even your adulthood?

TELL ME!

143xosmoochbye

 

 

 

Well, this is a mess of words and thoughts.

I was driving home the other day and thinking about a musician I had met recently. I’ve been following her music for nearly a decade and will always take the opportunity to gush about how great I think she is. Having this moment to finally meet her meant I might not be able to look and listen to her music the same way as before. The curtain would be lifted and whether or not I liked what I saw could change a very significant and emotional part of my life and memories.

After her concert, I saw a little crowd form near the exit. I immediately stopped walking and realized she was out there greeting friends and fans. I’ve seen her a couple of times before and had never got the chance to meet her, so naturally, I began sweating and getting hives and preparing my awe-inspiring speech I would yell in her direction while making too intense eye contact. I recall another time I was meeting a “hero” of mine and of this caliber, so I was excited and worried.

A Side Note: A topic I’ve always written notes about but haven’t formed into a full essay or post is that I think it’s crap how we’re constantly told to wear our passions on our sleeves and be supportive of one another, but when we actually do that, it’s almost off-putting. If I like something you’re doing, whether it be your music, art, poetry, or comedy, I will not hesitate to share it everywhere and talk about it with you or with someone who I think will like it too. For this, I get the feeling that I give off an intrusive energy. Why do I get self-conscious if I “Like” all your posts on your Facebook wall?  Who gives a fuck, you’re funny or you have great music, what does a “Like” constitute in reality? If I like your band but I don’t know you too well, I’m still going to share the shit out of your music. Maybe it’s not even a reflection of me but more so the creator of the work has both and unconscious fear of success and an unconscious fear of failure. I know that I have both, the second someone compliments me I revert to imposter syndrome. Yet, if I do well,  then I start self-sabotaging saying well, “if I succeed at this, will I be able to follow-up with something even better or will I be a one-hit wonder?” Combined with my online presence, I get the feeling my audience (mostly friends and acquaintances) have a hard time separating my jokes and written personality from the real me. Those jokes are certainly an extension of me, as a very heightened version of myself, but for god’s sake if you think I can eat as many burritos as I say I do and as often, then I would’ve been dead 4 months ago. I digress.

Back to being excited and worried about meeting a living-hero of mine. The advice “don’t meet your heroes” is meant to capture and maintain a spark and sense of wonderment about something or someone you care for. Maintaining that thrill and mystery. But I’m starting to think that’s shitty. When you meet someone you admire and they turn out to suck, doesn’t that make you think “well, this shitty person made something that is great…maybe a good person like me can make something just as great or even better.” Same thing works for if your hero turns out to be everything you wished and more. Now you get to see this human with your naked eye and shake their real-life hand and demystify the fact that they might be different from you. You are then inspired by their ambition and perseverance to create something, perhaps even to honor them. Those are all pretty good scenarios either way.

So I met her. I got to tell her about the first time I saw her music and it’s importance to me. Someone might say it’s cliché but that person clearly did not read the paragraph about me seen above. She was different from the image I had held of her and I appreciate that I know that’s not a bad thing. It was sobering to see she was someone who gave all of herself over to composing and performing. She didn’t have laser beam eyes nor have a light emanating off her body with a 4 ft range.  I immediately started separating her from me again, as if we didn’t live on the same planet at the same time, with the same opportunities. It was refreshing to have to remind myself that everything I admire and appreciate in one form of another is attainable. Also, that if it weren’t for the family, friends, and fans who speak up and express what they like openly then we wouldn’t have all these nice things and people that we do. Tehe.

What a jumble of rants here, eh?

Tell me all your thoughts please, thanks bye.

 

DO I HAVE VERITGO?

Hellooooo, Helloooo…

Hola!

I’m at a place called Vertigggoooo*.

(*I did not know that was the line and have been singing it wrong since 2004. Frankly, I also have no idea what the song is about.)

The past few months I’ve been getting what feels like seasickness. The past few weeks have been the worst and I don’t know what kind of ailment I’m potentially suffering from… Allergies? Inner ear problem? Too much salt and/or sugar? Maybe I shouldn’t have had garlic bread for dinner five days in a row. Maybe I’ve been meditating too much and I’ve astral projected right out of my body and don’t even know it.

I DON’T KNOW.

There is a thing called “Ascension” that means when you start to shift to a higher state of consciousness and vibration/frequency, your body starts to change and rid itself of old energy it’s been hanging onto. Do I sound crazy? Heck yes I do! At least it sounds more interesting than boobooboo my ears are blocked boobooboo. I’m also not going to self-medicate with cayenne pepper and maple syrup, so don’t worry.

Anyways, Easter is almost here and I saw a video about dumping rice into a sock and squishing it around until it looks like a bunny. If that isn’t god’s gift to earth, I don’t know what is.

okay I am tired and dizzy and wish I had french bread pizza. I LOVE YOU BYE.