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. 

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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!

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Okay my dears, smoochsmoochsmooch bye143.

 

Gym Mouse

Hi PingPongs,

I haven’t been to the gym in two weeks and I feel like blob. I work in extremes, so when I’m not at the gym, I’m ripping my cabinets apart looking for a stale granola bar or a dry piece of pasta to gnaw on. As I mentioned previously, my roommate and I spent about $75 on ice cream in the past week and a half. This is after a three week stint of working out every day and drinking lots of juice that claims to be healthy but is more or less rotting my teeth out of my face.

Speaking of rotting teeth, I also found out I love the Snickers Squared Peanut Butter bars. I didn’t even know I liked Snickers. I blame the Easter Bunny. Any kind of chocolate that comes in an egg shape tastes 300x better than in its regular form. I’m sure there’s studies on this somewhere.

I’m not particularly fond of the new trend of drinking only liquids and working out four hours a day until your body is completely chiseled. I think I would be suited better for the 80s or 90s where my zero percent muscle tone was appreciated, even revered. I do feel gross when I don’t move around much though. My head gets foggy and I’m convinced my dyslexia triples in severity. Speaking is hard enough but when I’m sluggish and unfocused, I might as well just hang a little chalk board around my neck like the swan from The Trumpet of the Swan. Maybe I could just get a trumpet and do morse code with it. Again, extremes.

Even though my gym is in the same parking lot as my work, by the time 5pm rolls around I’m ready to go home and toss myself across my bed. I keep telling myself that I’ll get up early and go to the gym before work, but then I start thinking about how tired I might get throughout the day if I go too early. Then I don’t go after work because I figure I’ll go home and go to sleep to wake up early to go to the gym and it just goes on and on and long story short I should probably cancel my membership. They DO have TVs with basic cable and they have towel service so I’m essentially paying them to do laundry while I watch TV.

We’ll see what happens tomorrow. Maybe I’ll go and meet a hunk and he’ll carry me out to my car and buy me Snickers OR maybe the gym’s security personnel will escort me out and tell me to stop submitting requests for a new vending machine and also stealing the towels.

I don’t steal the towels but if they ever cross me, I KNOW I COULD.

Okay, I love you. smoochsmooch xox

Food Food Food Food

I used to  take surveys and post them on MySpace all the time. I just ate a whole pizza so I thought I’d keep the fun going by answering some food related questions! Link to original survey embedded in the Food Survey title!

Food Survey 

1.     How do you feel about golden oreos?

Second hand Vienna fingers. 

2.     What is your favorite dessert topping?

I’ve been recently into KitKat chunks and/or Reese’s cup chunks. 

3.     What is your favorite flavor/brand of bubble gum?

BubbleYum or Grape Big League Chew

4.     Favorite cheese?

Mozzarella.

5.     Favorite Lunch Meat?

Mortadella because salt is god.

6.     Favorite ice cream flavor?

“Just Jimmies” by Brighams or Black Raspberry Chip from the Polar Cave ice cream parlor.

7.     Best looking food?

I like the way cartoon pizza looks. In real life, maybe one of those glazes hams with the pineapple on it.

8.     Best food to put cheese on?

Dumping shredded cheese one top of cold salsa.

9.     Best sexual food?

Are we taking aphrodisiacs or licorice underwear?

10.   Best tasting drink in the summer?

Moscow Mule

11.   Best tasting drink in winter?

Moscow Mule.  I’m not as opaque as I’d like to be.

12.   Best food for a night out with friends?

All foods.

13.   Best foods to eat with a roll?

Pasta or soup.

14.   Messiest food, in your opinion?

Burger.

15.   Easiest food to prepare?

Pasta.

16.   Cheapest food you ever ate?

Ramen Noodles.

17.   Most expensive food you ever ate?

Some sort of steak, I’d imagine.

18.   Stinkiest food you ever ate?

I don’t eat stinky food.

19.   Favorite dipping sauce?

Sweet and sour  sauce or the garlic aioli from Night Market in Cambridge, Ma.

20.   Best pizza topping?

Onions….or maybe a sprinkle of feta.

21.   Favorite potato chip flavor?

Sea Salt & Vinegar.

22.   Most toxic substance you ever ate?

Probably cheetos.

23.   Most calories you ate in one meal?

The pizza I ate this morning. I wish I were joking.

24.   Favorite soda?

Coke. 

25.   Favorite flavor of juice?

White grape mixed with anything.

26.   Favorite Vegetable?

Water chestnuts. Although, I think they might be a fruit. Whatever.

27.   Favorite Fruit?

Water chestnuts?

28.   Worst canned food?

All canned foods. 

29.   Best side dish?

Baked mac&cheese.

30.   Worst fast food restaurant?

Wendy’s? Mainly because of mayonnaise. 

31.   Best restaurant?

I’ll forever be in love with Night Market as mentioned previously.

32.   Best smelling food?

French onion soup.

33.   Favorite appetizer?

Maybe those onion string things. I could shovel those for days.

34.   Favorite cookie flavor?

Oatmeal chocolate chip… or a raspberry linzer.

35.   Favorite cake flavor?

ICE CREAM!

36.   Favorite pie flavor?

Strawberry rhubarb.

37.   Chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?

This depends on the situation and ice cream at hand.

38.   Ketchup or Mustard?

This depends on the situation and the ice cream at hand. I mean, food.

39.   Best food to have on a date?

Ice cream? So you can each have your own and then cough in each other’s faces when the dairy creates a whole bunch of mucous. 

40.   Most share-able food?

French fries. They are pretty easy to grab and split up.

 

Did I do okay? Do you agree or disagree with anything? LET ME KNOW!

xoxoxoxo

ICE CREEEAAAAAAM & Death!

Hey Kids!

ICE CREAM! YAAAAY! Last week I bought ice cream at the store and forgot it was in the freezer. In a fit of hunger I nearly ripped the door off and saw my little vanilla beauty staring back at me. I’m très happy.

I’m also très happy because I finished Season 2 of Six Feet Under and onto Season 3. I get sad when I start a new season because the coloring and cinematography is different. it’s usually on the 3rd season too, I’m assuming because at that point DEY GOT MORE MUNNEEEEY. Also the amount of A list celebs that show up in the cast is unnerving. heheheh.

In other news, I forgot I had an iPad. I remember why I forgot I had it because it’s a first generation and cannot handle updates past iOs 5.1.1.  This means virtually (hehe) all your games and other apps cannot update and most apps cannot function without said updates. Therefore, the slab of metal and microchips is USELESS. It’s sad. Here’s a sad face. 😦

Okay, while I was writing this I ate all my ice cream. Do I get more? Check one: Yes or Yes.

GOODNIGHT I LOVE YOU EAT YOUR VITAMINS!

Are You Difficult?

I think I’m difficult. Not a highly attractive quality but I do as Agent Dale Cooper does and I give myself a gift EVERYDAY. Sometimes I give myself MULTIPLE gifts. Coffee. Ice Cream. Lots of TV shows. Magazines. The part that makes me “difficult” is that I ask or get myself what I want. But am I difficult or am I LEANING IN to get the extra piece of pie before anyone else gets it? (That’s what “leaning in” is, right? For food? You gotta lean in for food.)

In what ways are you difficult? Would you call yourself an obsessive personality?

I ask the second part because sometimes my obsessive trait stomps on the little fingers of my difficult trait. I want 400 of the same flannel and I’m going to leave the family party until I get them. Once I do, I will return to the family party but not until my thirst for flannel (or whatever) is quenched.

Have you ever made the mistake of wanting something and letting it go but then realizing you’ve made a grave mistake and can no longer reverse your decision? I try to avoid those moments. Not ALL of them or else this would be a blog about hoarding. ALSO this is not entirely on material items. I get the same way with writing. If I feel I haven’t been creative or let the tension of wanting to write something out, I get a big ball of stress in my chest until I make something of it. Hence this blog where I can dump my crap and humor onto you beloveds.

From a higher sense, maybe it stems from a portion of myself not being fulfilled. That’s when the minor inconveniences start screeching for my attention.

The radio has a commercial. The TV is slightly too loud. The lighting is too dim. Someone is talking to me about the weather.

JUST SHUT UP EVERYONE/THING/APPLIANCE.

Does this affect anyone else or am I just a giant asshole? I’m curious as to what minor inconveniences irritate you.

Okay I love you enjoy the bonfire of my heart.

A Terrible Motivational Speech

I did a parody of Ira Glass’ famous and lovely quote on storytelling and writing. It hardly makes sense. Enjoy.

“Nobody tells this to n00bs. I wish someone told me. All of us who eat food, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you eat stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you to buy that $400 Kitchen Aid mixer with all the attachments, is still killer. And your taste is why your food disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they take Tums, have violent bouts of diarrhea and quit. Most people I know who eat and make interesting food went through years of this. We know our food doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have (cinnamon). We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is just eat a lot of food. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will eat one sundae. It is only by going through a buttload of sundaes that you will close that gap, and your homemade froyo will be as good as Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta loosen your belt and fight your way through it.” -Roth Plastic

Don’t Cry

DON’T CRY.

DON’T CRY.

DON’T CRY.

My inner monologue has been pretty dramatic lately.

I’ve been working a lot and trying to put more time and effort into my dreeEeaaAaams!

It’s been a very exhausting experience, but very fulfilling even if I’ve only been taking wittle itty bitty baby scabies steps.

ANOTHER huge time consumer has been that I’M MOVING!! (fireworks explode in the air)

I decided to tell my boss of 5 years that I will be moving in the spring time.

I had to go change my diaper after. I didn’t really think about it. I just started shouting across the office that I had an announcement to make and the words just kept falling out of my mouth like Gracie Lou Freebush drinking homemade hot chocolate. (Didja get that reference? Eh? EH?!)

I don’t think I handled it as professionally as I could have, but it was one of those situations that just sort of happened because my big dumb ice cream eating mouth doesn’t like holding secrets even if they are non-secrets like giving your boss 2 months notice because you like to keep the communication wide open like your big dumb ice cream eating mouth. Have I revealed to much about myself?

Okay, I love you, bye.

Animow

I’m wearing a jacket and leaned my elbow on the desk and it made a farting noise. Hehe.

But back to Animows. Today I was sitting at lunch, eating my second bowl of fiber cereal, which isn’t the best tasting, but it’s cereal and no one can just eat one bowl, unless you’re a witch.

I got to thinking about how fitness trainers and diet planners say not to reward yourself with food, because you aren’t an animal. Pardon me, while I hate all of that and drink a gallon of smashed up McDonald’s french fries. Firstly, yes I am an animal and secondly, I don’t think I want to know a person who doesn’t treat eating like a reward. That’s the whole point. Sure, it sustains life and that’s great but that only comes second to how fantastic shoving your mouth full of soda and strawberry doughnuts and pouring chocolate syrup down your face feels.

That’s how I start my day. I reward myself for getting out of bed and going to work by stopping at a coffee place and getting the largest vat of mocha iced coffee they have. If I didn’t do that, I’d be crying at my desk all day. Useless, sad, alone. But with my scrumpsh reward, I can somehow find the strength within me to live and do things like check my Facebook and watch RuPaul’s Drag Race and answer phone calls.

Another point is, it’s April. Everyone knows that April is the crusty butthole of the 12-month calendar year. It’s April, it’s raining, and it’s a Tuesday. Monday’s are better than Tuesday because you know they are terrible. Wednesday means we got through the bad part, Thursday means we can say YAY TOMORROW’S FRIDAY LET’S DRINK, and Friday means we get to sleep in Saturday. How can a person even live through a Tuesday without rewarding themselves with gourmet microwave popcorn their mother planted in a movie theater butter popcorn box because she’s a dirty trickster.

I see no other reason than to celebrate food and be enslaved by it’s glory.

Until next time, Wondersluts!

Meeting David Sedaris (But Really This Time!) : Part Three

I think I can finally make it through this post without sobbing.

Here’s the story.

The past few months I’ve been having a bit of a quarter-life crisis. It dawned on me, as I was sitting on the work toilet counting the dead flies caught in the fluorescent light, that I didn’t know what the hell I’ve been doing with myself for the past 23 years.

I’ve always been a sheep. I like  doing what I was told and begging people to tell me what to do. That meant I wouldn’t have to take responsibility if I sucked.

Thankfully, I finally had breakthrough. “I NEED TO DO SOMETHING WITH MY LIFE,” I shouted at my fly friends, startling my fellow employees outside the restroom.  I pulled up my pants and went back to my desk (don’t worry I wiped and washed).

Five minutes later, I got a text from one of my best friends. She asked if I had read Me Talk Pretty One Day. Being favorite of David Sedaris’ books, I told her it was my Bible. “I’m convinced I’m reading a book you wrote” her next message read. Naturally overdramatic, I sobbed and looked up David Sedaris show dates. It just so happened he’d be in Boston the next month. Click. Two tickets bought.

During my crisis, I visited some different people, who I like to refer to as I’m-here-so-you-don’t-ruin-your own life advisors. Naturally, in every interaction with a human being I had, I let them know I was going to see David. “Can you get some of your work to him?” one of the advisors suggested. I just sat there staring blankly. “Well, I guess I could.” I had four weeks to prepare something, I guess it was worth a shot.

It was an hour before I had to leave for the show and I was still staring at a blank word document. Shit.

I then unloaded the insults onto myself. “Lauren, you fuck! You have to leave. BUT YOU HAVE TO FINISH THIS.” I had never done something so bold for myself and I knew I’d have to throw myself down a flight of stairs if I didn’t bring something for this opportunity. So I wrote, and wrote, and wrote some more about a time I had find a way not to take a piss in my dad’s ashes (I’ll explain later) and edited it down to four pages of semi-funny shit, and flew out the door.

I picked up my friend and we drove into Boston, passing the venue David would be speaking at. There were hundreds of people outside the theatre waiting to get in. “Oh…other people are going to this?” The fantasy of me, my friend, and David, laying around in robes talking about what type of cheese we’d like with our tuscan flavored Triscuits, did not include the mod scene forming around us, fighting for their favorite types of cheese. The essay folded in my pocket burst into flames.

We got in the theatre and watched an amazing reading. When it was finished David said “I’ll be out in the lobby signing books after.” A collective swoop sounded and the entire auditorium made a dash for the doors. After the smoke cleared, my friend and I made our way behind the others, as we were pushed and shoved like we were passengers running the corridors of the Titanic.

“Welp, I guess we’re never going to find the lobby.” In my heart I felt like a moron for thinking I could fight my way through these people. We stopped walking amidst the chaos. Goddammit. We should probably just head home. At that moment, a man behind us shoved open a set of doors nearly invisible to the naked eye. Behind ehind them was the signing table.

I don’t want to say we tuck and rolled into the lobby, but I can’t really remember from all the tumbling. We claimed out place in line, 10 people deep. David came in, and we slowly made our way front.

He signed books and chatted with the other fans, and I tried to keep myself grounded in the moment. I have a tendency to let my mind go on autopilot (similar to a coma) and I don’t come out of it until the moment has passed. I wanted to be present when talking to him. I wanted to be professional and fun, but not “fan girl”. The couple in front of us left in what looked like slow motion, and David sat there waiting for us to move forward.

A normal person would have shaken his hand, gave him their book to sign, made a little small talk, thank him, and move on.

We ran up to him and said hello, and immediately I knelt down in front of him, like a child, and stared in his eyes. My friend held the conversation beautifully, and I made incoherent comments every so often. David liked my outfit, and confessed his displeasure of Cold Stone Creamery. I hate Cold Stone. I hate that when you tip them, you have to sit and take their singing as if you’re being rewarded. I didn’t make any witty comments though, I just shouted “YES.” Original. Professional. Fun.

As the moment wrapped up, he signed our books, and the nervous rash I developed flared up my neck and to my face. I stood up and like an ostrich, I shoved my entire head in my purse in search for the essay. I pulled it out (with my mouth? I’m not sure).

“I WROTE THIS FOR YOU!” I shouted, and shoved the folded chunk of paper at him.

“Oh. Thank you, I’ll read it later!” He said and smiled, as he stuck it into his back pocket.

I don’t remember what was said after that, but I know I stumbled away, my shirt see-through from the gallons of sweat I poured out.

I kept laughing hysterically out of nervousness the rest of the night. Myy friend and I talked and fantasized about our future visits (robe-wearing dates) with David. I dropped her off at her house, and as soon as I hit the highway to go home alone, I sobbed.

And I sobbed the next day.

And I sobbed the next day.

And I weeped a little today.

I hear that when you are around someone who does what they love, they emit a different kind of energy. I’m no new age hippie, but I like hummus, and every time David looked down at me, I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t cry.

It was awesome.

I don’t know if I’ll hear back from him. I don’t think it really matters (Yes it does). I did my part, which was in a nutshell (teehee) to grow a pair. Sure, the essay wasn’t my best, but I’m the type of person that still makes my mom order the pizza so I don’t have to interact with anyone.

This was a huge step. What the hell have I been waiting for (aside from the pizza)?

Meeting David Sedaris: Part Two

HELLO MY SOUR PATCH CHILDRENS. 

I won’t get into the details now, but I finally met David Sedaris. I’m pretty sure I willed the whole situation into existence, and it was amazing. There will be a big, fat, long, blog post about it tomorrow, but what you should know is it involved ice cream, bloody shanks, nudity, and rashes. All good things, except for maybe the rash part. I’ve been crying on and off for the past 24 hours, because when you look David Sedaris in the eyes, he looks straight into your soul. 

It’s like what people say about those spiritual moments, that if you speak about it to anyone, it loses it’s meaning and  power. Like when people see a deer taking a dump on the side of the road and think it’s God. The moment I got up to the table he (David, not the deer) was sitting at, I knelt down like a child and just stared up at him. He was perfect, and I was a beet red, rambling, lunatic with a little shitty essay in my hand that I waved around until he took it and placed it in his pocket.

He could have read it after, or used it to clot a freak nose bleed, but I don’t really care anymore (I’m lying). I did my part of the journey which included a few bouts of diarrhea and whole lot of telling myself I suck. 

Well, it’s off to play my XBOX and cry more. Tomorrow will be my big long post, yay!