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Lesson #10 – Lists About Love

29 Aug

Recently I learned that you people can’t get enough of reading lists. You love them. Like LOVE them, and you seem to love lists even more when they are about relationships/knowing if he or she is “the one” even though the majority of those lists say the exact same thing.

So here for you now, as my 10th post on my journey through 30 lessons I’ve learned before 30, I will list 10 ways I know my boyfriend is the one. However, WordPress won’t allow me to number this post…so this is a list of 10 ways I know my boyfriend is the one, but with letters of the alphabet.

All the dudes out there may want to take notes.

a. He wrote me a song and it sounds like a choir of  early 90s keyboards gone wild. And here are some of the lyrics: “You must be Harry Potter’s sister, cause the way you work that broom make a playa say mmm mmm MMMMM.” Win.

b. I’ve met my match. Just this morning he blew his nose with toilet paper and when he came downstairs,  little bits of paper were scattered throughout his mustache. For once I am not the only one embarrassing myself in weird ways all the time. This man is my equal.

c. He rids my house of unwelcome bugs and that’s great because I no longer have to pretend I just didn’t see them. This is a major step up for me.

d. He draws me neat pictures.

e. He loves me even when I post stuff like this:

onmyway

f. He drives me to work when I don’t feel well and he is, like, so strong. Muscles. Carrying all the heavy things.

g. He holds my arm when we walk across cobblestone streets instead of making fun of me and allowing me to look like a drunk baby giraffe.

h. He does great impressions (he told me to put that).

i. He makes me hot dogs and doesn’t judge me for wanting at least three.

j. HE’S HELLA CUTE.

Oh, Hello, I’m Drunk

2 Apr

Oh hi, everyone. I’m drunky at the bar on a Wednesday watching baseball. Whatevs. Here’s what I’m thinking:

1. Lots of balls up in baseball. Long ball. Curve ball. Balls in general.

2. This bar is a sausage fest. Mmmm, sausage. No, but seriously. Lots of dudes.

3. Just had a shot of tequila. It’s gross, but I pulled it off as a sassy shimmy.

4. Yay sports!

5. My boyfriend just said “if I came back and there was caviar here, I wouldn’t be mad.” So he’s maybe wasted (don’t worry, MADD, we’re walking home).

6. I just showed this to him and he said he didn’t say it and now he’s talking about Seinfeld while I’m typing.

7. Now he’s singing Lady Gaga.

8. I just played “Who Let The Dogs Out” on the jukebox. Gonna play it again soon.

9. Can’t wait to go to the beach and swim with exotic animals and run away in the Honduran jungle and become their island princess queen.

10. Seriously. It will be so romantic and my dude will hold me like in those romancey novel covers and then I am going to hold a monkey and swim with jaguars and ride a horse down the beach with wind in my hair and you are all gonna be jeeeeelous.

11. Sean just told me to say Michael Jordan playing for the White Sox was amazing and ’90s Ken Griffey Jr. was also neat.

12. The bartender just made fun of the way I say “huh?” and my response was to make my monkey face and now they’re talking about the monkey face. I’m leaving. Bye. I love you guys. So much.

13. PS – Sean just said “the last time I saw 3 balls and 2 strikes, I was at a circus.” (K, bud.)

14. He told me to add “circus in Tijuana” but I don’t feel like editing.

15. He’s lucky he’s cute. :)

16. Him: Baby wants mozzarellas?
Me: Sure.
Him: You are my Sicilian baby queen.
Me: (900 million smiles for infinity miles and stuff)

Sparkly, Safe and Funny Inside

18 Feb

On the night we met, I thought he was just goofy and weird (he is), but I remember walking into my quiet house after he dropped me off and something felt different. “That guy’s a weirdo,” I thought to myself–but it wasn’t bad. I felt sparkly and safe and funny inside.

It has been one year and I still feel that way. Friday was my first Valentine’s Day with someone in a couple of years. At first I felt strange about it because I kept thinking about the final Valentine’s Day I had with my ex-boyfriend before he passed away. That evening he said I had to straighten my wavy hair because it was “too wild” and later that I seemed unhappy and was “impossible to please.”

It made me think about my expectations and I felt bad, but he was right, I wasn’t happy. Despite the fancy Valentine’s Day presentation, I didn’t have fun and I didn’t know why.

Last weekend I learned, however, that it’s not that I am “impossible to please.” It isn’t that I didn’t appreciate fine dining and $94 Vera Wang roses in a silver julep cup that were meant to sweep me off my feet with modern sophistication. It was that I needed to be with someone goofy and weird who gives me room to be myself, have fun and let my hair flow freely. That’s just who I am.

The best thing I ever did was take the time to be honest with myself about who I am and what I was looking for in a relationship. BEST. IDEA. EVER. It seems like it would be such a simple thing to do, doesn’t it? But it isn’t easy for all of us, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

So, now things are different. On Friday, we had our own version of a romantic weekend and it was the best I’ve ever had, even if the cupcakes weren’t perfect and even if we looked out the window and saw this:

 

 

1797448_10101336025356455_1745882462_n

 

 

 

A Different Kind of Swan

30 Jan

When I was 20, I kept a handwritten journal while studying abroad at the University of London, Birkbeck. I found the journal a couple of weeks ago and have enjoyed reading it and remembering the fun we had.

There are a few entries worth sharing, but the one below from January 30, 2005 is a favorite.

 

____________

Jan 30.

It’s the end of January and we’ve been here for almost a month. London is absolutely different–guys actually like me and talk to me here. At home I’m kind of like the ugly duckling, but here I feel more like a swan. First of all, a Saudi prince kissed me at the pub. I know there are a lot of them, but still. I never thought I’d be saying I was kissed by a prince. That sounds like a lie, but I swear it happened.

Then, the other day, some hot guy in a business suit said I’m the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. What the hell?

Also, I never thought I’d be saying a naked British man farted on me, but here I am. That happened. I guess that isn’t really a “swan” thing, but it’s funny. A British woman named Dawn kissed me, too, and it made me laugh. She’s from Gateshead. I can’t even understand her half the time.

Basically, I’ve been kissed more in the last month than I have so far in my whole life. It’s weird. Things are really funny and odd here, and it just keeps happening. I embarrass myself a lot,  too. Kelli and I look at each other every time like “what is going ON?”

So maybe I’m a different kind of swan since these aren’t normal swan things? Or maybe all these people are on drugs? All I know is that when the time comes, I don’t think I will want to go home.

Time for bed, we have a test tomorrow.

____________

 

I like that entry because I had no idea that all the odd, funny, and embarrassing moments would continue to happen.

Just this morning I was hung over and walking into work when I noticed a big lump trying to escape out the bottom of my pant leg, which soon I discovered was a pair of underpants that needed to be pulled out in broad daylight. Yikes.

And so I stick by that “different kind of swan” explanation. It would be boring to be normal, anyway.

Pure Moods

16 Dec

When I was a dorky 13-year-old, I bought the Pure Moods compilation CD after seeing an infomercial for it at a sleepover. There was something about it that drew me in, something bewitching.  If you’ve never heard of it, please, watch the commercial and find yourself as enchanted as I was:

Are you under the Pure Moods spell yet? Thought so. There’s probably a mist rising all around you at this very moment.

The song from this extraordinary compilation that really got me was “Return to Innocence” by Enigma. Watch this magical tribute to wolves whilst the song makes gentle love to your ears (for optimal results, please listen as you continue on your literary journey):

So at this awkward stage in my life when I wore a headgear and was the same weight I am now, my biggest dream ever was to kiss a boy and whenever I listened to the song, I visited a magical land where Jeff Goldblum or some really cute boy grabbed me and at first I was all, “I don’t know about this,” but then I would succumb to his lips and fall into his arms while the wind blew through my long hair and behind us were green, rolling hills and a beautiful white horse with sparkles in its mane galloped by and then suddenly we would be holding hands and running through a lush forest and….and….

let’s just say it was a painful many, many years until a boy actually kissed me.

Last night I told my boyfriend that story and he said, “Okay, well we can listen to the song and kiss and stuff if you want.” Then we did, and now there’s an incredibly ecstatic 13-year-old girl in my heart (and later she will probably be squealing at the cafeteria lunch table and giving high fives all around to her friends and they’ll be like OMG YAYY this SO beats writing angsty poetry).

Anyway.

I guess I should also mention that it was pretty weird making out with that wolf video in the background. It didn’t quite capture the “spirit” I was hoping for. Maybe if he was wearing a wolf t-shirt or something and I had a dreamcatcher tattoo? I don’t know. Perhaps we will try that out next time.

So, did (do) you ever imagine making out to a particular song? Of course you did (do)–please share it below and I will post something special tomorrow with your answers!

That’s not the beginning of the end
That’s the return to yourself
The return to innocence.

Embarrassing Stories

29 Aug

I love that people feel like they can share anything with me. Usually I’m asked to critique poetry, lend an ear, offer an opinion or give honest advice, but my VERY favorite thing is when someone gives me the gift of an embarrassing story.

I know when one’s coming because the person always starts off, “Oh my God, I could never tell anyone else this, but…” and in my head I’m like YES, I should take a bathroom break and grab some popcorn because this is going to be a masterpiece. It usually is, and whether your pants split, you threw up on someone during oral sex or got caught pooping down the chimney of your ex-wife, I’ll never judge, so I understand why people turn to me.

I got permission to share one story from today. Grab a snack, people–this is good.

A girl I know went out on a first date with a guy she had a crush on for years. They went to school together for 12 years, but she was too shy to say anything to him because he was a popular jock and she hadn’t grown into her nose yet and was in the poetry club (been there, sister).

Recently, they began working for the same company. She was surprised when he remembered her and was motherfrigging thrilled a week later when he asked her on a date. She had a new dress to wear, the weather was nice and they went to dinner and had a few drinks and it was perfect blah blah blah.

It was as though she had won the nerdy, hopeless romantic high school kid jackpot, right?

So anyway, he drove her home after the best date ever and when he leaned in to kiss her…she farted.

She farted right when their lips touched, in a silent car, and not only did it sound like a balloon asking a question, but also managed to be the most putrid stench of all the stenches that have ever exited butts.

He laughed so hard through his nose that snot flew out, directly into her mouth. Then, she started laughing hard and farted again and while they both were laughing, she was so embarrassed that she decided to just get out and walk away.

She doesn’t expect to hear from him again, but you never know.

If you have a story that tops this, dear god, please share it. Otherwise, everyone, you’re welcome. Enjoy the rest of your day.

How do you know when you need a vacation?

5 Aug

I knew last year when this happened.

Last night, my boyfriend and I were drinking margaritas out on my porch. As the sound of sirens and the ice cream truck jingle serenaded us in the distance, I asked him, “How do you know you when you need a vacation?”

“Uh..” he thought aloud for a moment, “having a wet dream of yourself on the beach in Tahiti, only to wake up to a wet dream.”

I laughed and shook my head. “I usually know when I find myself cussing at people on Facebook who post beautiful beach shots from their vacations because every place is effing lovely and I just want to go to there already but instead I’m stuck at work and the life is draining from my eyes and soon we’ll all be regretting not having more fun in our lives and then we’ll die.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be at the beach in one week,” he reminded me. Excited about that thought, we then went back and forth and made a list. Add to it!

 

beachy

Sigh………

 

How do you know when you need a vacation?

- When the only thing you can celebrate about today was that you pooped before your shower and a butt lint crisis was avoided.

- Your Google Search history at work from 9:30 am – 1:30 pm includes the words “sunsets, “beaches” and “beach sunsets.”

- You daydream in the grocery store for 20 minutes while people yell at you in line.

- You make a different beachy drink every night while listening to the Pandora station “Laid Back Beach Music” because if you’re drunk enough, you can “travel” anywhere.

- Camping in your backyard… which is full of cockroaches and rats.

- You spent 2+ hours skimming Carnival.com, holding back your trigger finger from booking a last-minute deal.

- You wear your bathing suit around the house and pretend you’re going back out on the beach any second now.

- When you hear a Jimmy Buffett song and want to punch him for living in a permanent vacation spot.

- You buy a baby pool so at least your dog and/or feet can get a vacation.

- You make your boyfriend watch “Beach Blanket Bingo” and you both enjoy it just a little too much.

- You look at Yelp reviews of various beach campsites.

- You buy key lime flavored everything as a means of channeling the Florida Keys.

- Everything seems to piss you off and you know you need a wave to knock you on your ass to keep you in check.

La La’s Relationship Advice Column

22 May

Yesterday on Facebook I asked for people to submit questions to me about relationships. I’ve always secretly wanted an advice column in the newspaper and I thought this would give me a chance to try it out.

I am splitting this up into two posts, so don’t fret if your question is not answered below.

Here we go.

 

1. Why do I always have to brush my teeth before kissing my wife? 

Here’s the deal. Boys are stinky pretty much all the time and we women have to deal with it and that’s okay because we love you. So you’re walkin’ around stinkin’ it up like Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown while us gals smell like beautifulness and angel nectar because we never poop or sweat. It’s true, we don’t do either of those things. So, you have to brush your teeth before you kiss your wife because she has to smell your putridness all the time–should she really have to taste it, too?

 

2. Does the carpet always match the drapes?

When you think about it, if the carpet always matched the drapes, most women would have bald heads or mohawks. Some women would have pubic highlights that would end up looking like stripes. If this were the 70’s, we would all have afros. Actually, that would be really funny. So, in conclusion, the answer is no, the carpet doesn’t always match the drapes, but it would be funny if this were the 70’s and we all had afros. Haha, and oh my god, “disco balls” would play and active role in my sexual vocabulary.

 

3. Is it sweet or perverted that my husband signs his notes and cards to me: “Your Love Muscle”….

WELL, if nothing else, he’s a sneaky wordsmith because we don’t know if he’s referring to his heart or his penis. Very clever indeed, good sir. Is he a husband in love or a husband in lust? We’ll never know for certain, but I’m going to say it’s probably both and that he’s a sweet pervert, just to keep you on your toes.

 

4. My boyfriend doesn’t want to get busy as much as I do. He thinks a dozen or so times a week is fine, but that’s barely enough to get my motor running. What’s the best way to get him to perform his boyfriendly duties to my satisfaction?

I recently faced this same issue. My suggestion is that you dress up as things that guys like–perhaps a food item like chips, for example. Guys love chips. I personally chose to take a bath in whiskey and dress up as football running back Marshawn Lynch and this nearly tripled my weekly sexy time encounters. I yelled, “touchdown!” at the good part, too. He liked that.

 

5. How do I get my boyfriend to propose to me? We’ve talked about it and he says he has a plan, but it hasn’t happened yet!

There are a few simple things you can do that will get him on his knee in no time:

1. Do nice things to his manly bits. Tune his horn…if you know what I mean. Don’t make me say it.

2. Fine. Blowjays. There. I said it.

3. Be passive aggressive about the fact that he’s taking his sweet ass time. Men love that.

 

6. How should I ask my girlfriend to marry me?

It’s hard to think of something original, I know. I think you should surprise her by bursting through the bathroom door while she’s sitting on the toilet and just hand it to her. What a delightful surprise! She will never expect it! (The lady in question 5 can go ahead and roll her eyes because question 6 has nothing to do with her…of course).

 

I hope I was able to offer helpful advice today. I will be back next week to answer more of your questions! In the mean time, please feel free to ask me anything in the comments below!

Boyfriend Farts

1 Apr

Last night at 3am I woke up startled by a champion fart, but for once it wasn’t my own brand. My eyes flew open and my boyfriend was lying there mischievously smiling.

 

Me (laughing uncontrollably): Ummmm!!!

Boyfriend: Haha, that sounded like a dolphin. Girl, I bet I got you dreaming you’re at Sea World.

 

Then I farted. I said it was in retaliation, but I think I was just laughing so hard that it came out.

 

Boyfriend: Your fart just smells and didn’t sound like a funny animal or anything. Gross, Lauren. You’re gross.

Me: That’s not fair! Boys smell all the time.

 

I fell back asleep a few minutes later and dreamt that it was a beautiful day so my friend Stacey and I went to Sea World. I was excited to see the sea lions, but Stacey first wanted to go to the dolphin show. We sat down and when the dolphins swam out, the sounds they made were all fart sounds and Stacey and I were laughing so hard in the audience that we were crying. My boyfriend was the dolphin trainer.

I woke up laughing and downloaded a fart soundboard on my phone and this morning, instead of working on my first day back from vacation, I listened to farts. My favorite one is called “C-Flat.”

You don’t need to tell me I’m the classiest girl in America, you guys. I already know that I exude sophistication.

Helen, A Prostitute

8 Mar

Of all the corners in Baltimore City, Helen chose my Hampden corner for turning tricks. She was tall, wore a sports bra and rocked a fancy, champagne blonde 80’s-esque hairstyle.

She yelled at inanimate objects and one time was behind me in line at Rite Aid when I dropped my wallet. She picked it up for me, introduced herself and said she had my back.

Thanks, girl.

Once, I saw her checking car doors while singing “Rush, Rush” by Paula Abdul. Two days later, I forgot to lock my car and the next morning I was greeted by a douche in my cup holder and cigarette ashes all over my front seat (which, by the way, was set down and back and likely used for sexual activity. My car was cleaned vigorously for a couple of weeks after that).

When I saw the douche, I had a flashback to the early 90s and for at least one solid minute, thought it was a Berry B. Wild SqueezIt.

 

Douche


 

Squeezit

 

I hadn’t seen Helen for long time and thought maybe she finally got help and gave up drugs and prostitution, but I went out with a guy the other night who told me that she died. He also said there’s a new prostitute. He described her as “in her 50’s and a bit momish.” Mom-prostitute stands on his corner just a few blocks away, so my corner finally gets a break.

This may sound weird, but I am going to miss Helen. I mean, I didn’t know her, but she was quite a character. She was a part of life, you know? And now she’s not. I’ll never find out what her favorite color was, if she was happy at some point, or if she was ever in love.

Rest in peace, Helen. I forgive you for leaving your douche in my cup holder and probably having sex in my car.

I pray you are in a better place now, on that great corner in the sky.
 

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