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.

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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.

 

#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

 

 

I Did It! Talk to Angels 101.

Oh my little troll boys and troll girls, I finally did it. I COMPLETED MY ANGEL CARD READING COURSE. I managed to squeeze eight weeks out of a six week course because I ended up reaching out and practicing on some friends, families, and strangers and booked myself into oblivion for two weeks. It was awesome and the acceptance was overwhelming. I wasn’t ostracized for coming out of the Angel Card Reading closet. 

Now, I might be a loon but at least I have the digitalized credentials to back up my loon claims. 

 
Hooray! 

I’m experimenting over at Blogger.com to see how that goes. Click Here to See! 

I have a PayPal all set up and I’m offering a “Try Me!” Rate of $10 per question. 

All Angel Card related questions can be emailed to LaurenAngelReadings@gmail.com.

I’m going to maintain the blogs separately as I like to dump all my thoughts here where they an be appreciated by my lovely peers hehe. I even got a new phone so I can update more. Yay!

Well, this little troll girl is going to continue counting down the hours until I can stuff my face with gravy and stuffing. 

Big thanks to everyone helped me get my certification. THANK YOU!

Okaybye143

FLASH POST! Driving Blind.

Quick post so I can go nappy-bye.

My frequent readers know that most my days are weird because I have my freak flag stapled to my chest BUT today had an extra sprinkle of “hmm…how unusual.”

I woke up in a shit mood because I had love dreams and I woke up and didn’t have a love reality. I didn’t feel so hot between a headache and my morning acid reflux so I threw back some alka seltzer and made a coffee (I’m REALLY GREAT at balancing acids and anti-acids!). I don’t remember getting dressed but I was in my car, peeling out on some wet leaves, burping up some hot remains of whatever acid I ate before bed.

It was rainy while I was driving to work so I had my new windshield wipers swishing. SWISH swish SWISH swish SWISH swish SWICCRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKK.

My driver’s side windshield wipe cracked off and the jagged metal remains propelled it off into the road and under my back tire. GuhBUMbum.

I could see the car behind me crunching it under their tire. Cya later windshield wiper! RIP! Have a nice life! Drop me a line!

It was raining pretty heavily so I couldn’t stick my head out the driver’s side window. That and it’d get ripped off by the renegade MBTA buses they have Tokyo drifting in the streets. I’m pretty hunchy as it is (did I tell you a potential suitor asked if I had scoliosis? HE THOUGHT I HAD SCOLIOSIS) so I craned my neck to the passengers side.

I was in panic mode until I got to work, when I burst out laughing at the absurdity of annihilating my own new windshield wiper. Pulverized. Crunched to smithereens. Swish Swish Swish CLUNK annnndd there she gooooes goooodbyyyyeee!

Thankfully, I had my old wipers in the trunk in case of emergency. I spent 45 minutes searching YouTube for videos until I just read the (5) steps in the instruction manual- 3 of which include making sure you shut your car off before you run yourself over.

I changed it, crisis averted, christ has risen or something.

It was horrifying not being able to see or even pull the car over. That being said I’m really sorry if your pet cat, dog, or maybe even your husband don’t return home tonight, I forgot to check my wheel wells. My panic mode shuts down my peripheral vision and I’m pretty sure I was chanting something in Sanskrit. But I’m ALIVE and changed my own wiper because I’m big and strong.

OKAY! Flash post over. Thank you for reading.

k love you byyyee why do you always smell like bread?

Let’s Talk about Me More

Although I talk about me all the time, I don’t talk really talk about ME. I started writing a post earlier but realized it was going to take some more time thinking it through* (*requires more concentration than being in front of the TV with cookie butter trying to write it for 6 hours).

I’m going to do a short series every so often of traits and quirks that I think are either funny or too stupid not to share. Don’t worry about Songs I Listen to Compulsively. I’ve been stuck on the same set of songs for a while now but I feel a change in the air.

Anyways, let’s get to it. Here are some things:

1) I recently realized that I hate everything in my wardrobe. A lot of people say this, but I pinpointed the issue. I love bright colorful things but wearing them isn’t how I want to express myself. If you haven’t picked up on it, I enjoy expressing myself in many mediums. I am currently working what I WANT to wear into my wardrobe. Read: Lots of black and lots of leather. Not like a biker. But in a “New Yorkers understand my affection for everything tight and black with some leather pants, hooray” mentality. It might seem obvious but I knew I wasn’t comfortable but I couldn’t figure out how I loved something so much and hate the way it made me feel.

2) I have two tattoos. The first one is a yellow rose as a tribute to my Nana who loved yellow roses. I’m thinking of adding more and making it a half sleeve. I would love a blue rose in the sleeve, as a nod to Twin Peaks/Fire Walk with Me. My second tattoo is of a U.F.O. and is a symbol of a lot of things. After I got out of a long relationship, I realized I didn’t really have my own identity left. I boarded myself up into my room and used the X-Files as a crutch. It was something I had for myself. Also, my Nana and Dad LOVED the X-Files and I remember them watching it (and me cowering in fear behind the recliner, peaking out to see what was happening on TV). It’s also a little homage to them and those times. It’s also my symbol for being weird. I get told I’m a little weirdo a lot. Thankfully, I am aware of it AND I don’t try to use it as my little niche thing. I don’t try and heighten in the make myself stand out more. It’s just me! And last but not least, it’s also a companionSHIP (get it?!) to my friend Ryan’s tattoo. He and I both got our U.F.O’s together, so it’s just a cool thing that they are totally different designs, but come from the same muse (X-FIles).

3) I once gave David Sedaris a typed story I wrote about the time I pissed into an almond jar while boxed in during traffic on the highway.

4) Yes, it’s true. I had to piss in the almond jar. It was either that or a Teddy Graham’s box.

5) When I go out for drinks, I have to suck my drink down within the first 2 minutes of ordering it. I don’t know why but I get antsy.

HEHE!

Fun!

Yay!

Clap!

Okay, it’s my bed time. K LOVE YOU BYE!

I Ate Recalled Food

It would certainly explain the face rash I’ve been blaming on spider bites.

I got an automated phone call from the grocery store the other day, saying the lettuce I bought was contaminated with a bacteria that has too many consonants smashed together to pronounce correctly. They didn’t say that verbatim but I could tell in that robot-demon’s electronic death voice, that that’s what she meant.

Lucky for me and my little knowledge of how things actually work, I eat a grotesque amount of yogurt. My point being is that those little invisible health soldiers that live in yogurt helped give me less diarrhea than normal and fight off whatever flesh eating disease I could have contracted. Or at least I haven’t noticed anything yet, I can’t really say I’ve look at my ass in a while. The face rash though, I just thought those spiders were suffering from famine and had to sacrifice dignity over necessity.

Death Becomes Her. (I’m Referring to Myself When I Say Her. I’m Her. Death Becomes Me.)

Everyone harbors special talents that really may serve no purpose except to entertain ourselves. Bragging is unattractive, but I can eat 4 pieces of Texas Toast and sit through 3 seasons of the Sopranos without blinking/exhaling/contemplating my mortality and misguided life choices.

Among giant bread scarfing, filtering my identity out of photos, and mouth breathing, I do have one hidden talent that has remained hidden, as to not frighten the kids/my mom/your nana+papi. ESPECIALLY, your nana+papi. I don’t know if that’s a real word people use for their grandfathers or if I’ve just been exposed to JLO too early in my life to know any difference.

Back to my talent, or maybe it’s more of a condition, but I  have a knack for predicting when someone is about to feel the dank kiss of death. Sometimes days before, sometimes months before they die. DON’T X OUT YET. I have a pretty solid record of being right about it. I can’t name names specifically (at least not usually) but I can tell if male/female, age range, and what type of relationship I have to them. Kind of like those cats that walk around hospitals and snuggle with the old people who are about to die.

WEIRD, RIGHT?

Feel free to ask questions. It’s weird and I don’t even really understand it, but that’s like most secret abilities and gifts, I suppose.

Normally, I would have never shared this on here but it happened when a distant relative died this past week and I was thinking about how I still hadn’t come up with a post for the week. HEHE.

Alright kids, enjoy your Monday!

Love,

Lolo von Iseedeadpeoplebutnotreallythatdbeweirdasshitsteinbergsongirl

P.S. Enjoy this picture of Peaches.

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Lesser Appreciated BuzzFeed Quizzes

A couple weeks back, when all those BuzzFeed quizzes started popping up, I compiled a list of what I thought might be the lesser appreciated quizzes. Here are some of them!

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Which Member of Congress is Your Spirit Animal?

QUIZ: What State Penitentiary Are You?

Which 8th Century Mongol Are YOU Most Like?

Which Member of Slipknot is Your Soulmate?

What Offensive Justin Bieber Action Are You Really?

The Quiz Quiz: What Quiz Are You?

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I’d take them, but I tend to route for the underdogs.

Until next time, my loveducks.