Archive | April, 2012

Where do you want to be right now?

30 Apr

I am taking off this week due to an arm/elbow issue (nerve entrapment) that seems to get very angry at me when I work/write and spend too much time on WordPress. This puts a damper on my spirits because, well, one is my job and the other is what I do when I take frequent breaks from my job. Also, I was in an effing car accident last night and I have a sore throat. If anyone knows how to exorcise the crappy luck demons, that would be fabulous.

 

Maybe I just need to get away.

 

If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be and why? I know where I would be (and where I will escape to in my imagination all day):

 

Bora Bora, bitches.

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27 Apr

My Boyfriend, Vodka

24 Apr

As you can see, Vodka and I are back together again after our rough breakup. I lasted 1 week. I didn’t want to be in the photos, but Vodka (and Sangria) insisted. Yikes.

 

Dear Justin Bieber

23 Apr

Dear Justin Bieber,

Let me stop you right there, little fella. While you were whispering to me via radio waves on my ride into work this morning, I realized that I don’t want you to be my boyfriend, so please, stop bothering me about it.

Why?

1. Well, for starters, I don’t want to chill with you “by a fire while we eatin’ fondue.” What, all that money in your hands that you’d really like to blow and we’re just going to chill by a fire and eat fondue? That’s utter crap.

2. Really? You “can” be a gentleman? How talented and noble of you.

3. You seem to be missing body hair. Unacceptable.

4. I don’t want to spend the next 5 months teaching you how to kiss. Tedious.

5. I definitely don’t want to spend the next year teaching you how to use your meek little penis.

6. Sometimes I have to squint when I look at your bright-ass clothes. I don’t want to have to squint when I look at my boyfriend.

 

If you were my boyfriend, your neon clothes would give me migraines.

 

7. Sometimes you look like a pretty young lady. I don’t date young ladies. Or any ladies.

8. You have the seagull outline tattoo. I get the Jonathan Livingston Seagull reference and I’m sure people  praise you for it, but will never read it themselves. Seagulls also steal french fries and poop on people. Just saying.

9. “So say hello to falsetto in three, two” is not something I want to hear in the bedroom. You would probably say that in the bedroom.

10. Who do you think you are, the Ying Yang Twins? You don’t know what half of that song even means, so stop whispering at me and find someone your own age.

Sincerely,

Lauren Ann

I still don’t look like Fergie.

19 Apr

Today I got my 500th “like.” Thank you, people of the internets–much love. Here is one reason I began blogging in the first place:

Over the past 8 months, 4 different people, all strangers, have told me I look like Fergie. I don’t look like Fergie. I don’t think she’s looking so hot these days (though her body stays vicious, indeed–fair enough, Fergie Ferg).

In 1989, I remember dancing my tiny 5-year-old ass off while watching her perform The Locomotion on Kids Incorporated and thinking I wanted to be her (she’s the one in the middle):

 

Side note, look how cute little Jennifer Love Hewitt is on the right. Who knew she would grow those boobs or get vajazzled? Not I.

These days, if someone comments, “You look like Fergie,” is it a compliment?  No. Why? Because I think Fergie and Carrot Top look like plastic face twins. So…

 

If Fergie

=

Carrot Top

 

then Fergie and/or Carrot Top

=

Me

And seriously, fuck Carrot Top. He reminds me of a nightmare I once had about the circus. Just thinking about him raises my blood pressure. I guess none of this really matters because I don’t look like Fergie and Carrot Top, so there’s no problem here and there was no reason to rant about this in the first place. Right? Right. Whatever those 4 people saw shall remain unknown and will haunt me for the rest of my days. Unless, of course, one of you sees the resemblance. If so, please come forth. Choose your words wisely.

Believe

19 Apr

Springtime in Baltimore.

Power lines sway, neighbors greet,

Helen turns tricks in the sunshine,

a syringe rolls by my feet.

 

My lawn is an ashtray

and home to a stray weave.

The junkie next door beats his wife.

One word. Believe.

 

It’s printed in black and white–

as if things were that clear.

Dear Vodka

16 Apr

Dear Vodka,

After much consideration and very little recollection, I have decided to break up with you.

We fell in love about 2 years ago, when a foot of snow was on the ground and my ex boyfriend had just broken up with me a week before Christmas. The liquor store on my street was open and that’s where we met. Remember that winter? It was fun. My fondest memory was when you made me chase a bunch of children and call them “little shits” after they threw snowballs at me.

You were there for me that day, Vodka, and we’ve been a great team ever since. One time you told me to punch a douche bag who was at the bar. That douche deserved it, and we saved an innocent guy from getting punched. Now that I think about it, that guy owed me a shot of you.

Still, I’m sorry–it’s over. Why? Last weekend alone did me in and I didn’t even throw up, end up in a strange bed, cry or drunk text an ex boyfriend (our most common offense, surely).

 

Don't judge me. You've been here, too.

 

I did, however, fall off a curb in front of a lot of people, I kissed and gave my number to a man who has “pleasure” tattooed on his neck, I braided a woman’s hair and I managed to eat a dog treat. Yes, a fucking dog treat. On Sunday morning, I woke up topless on my kitchen floor with my phone nestled in between my boobs. That was it for me–I knew we had gone too far.

Perhaps it was just because I tried your new peanut butter and jelly flavor, who knows….but really? A mother fucking dog treat? Seriously? A guy with “pleasure” tattooed on his neck? I can do better than this, Vodka. I am a classier gal than this.

I’ll probably be back, but for now I must bid you adieu.

Yours Truly,

Lauren Ann

On Air Sex World Championships

13 Apr

I am going to pop out of my shell today and share something called the Air Sex World Championships. It’s like air guitar, except it’s sex and there are less rules. Contestants have 2 minutes to perform an Air Sex routine. The routine can include all phases of a sexual encounter. Props are allowed, teams are allowed and talking is allowed. The only important rule is that all sexual climaxes must be simulated. Sex judges are comedians, musicians, artists and press. They choose 3 acts who return for a final round that is performed to a mystery song.

I want to do it. I’m serious. Those of you who know me are thinking there is no way I would go through with it, right? Do not doubt me, my friends. I finally have a calling and it is the Air Sex World Championships. We all knew my calling would be something that would better the world.

Since teams are allowed, SnarkySnatch, will you do me the honor of performing with me? What better day to say yes than this day–Friday the Fuck Buddy 13th? You know you want to, don’t hold back. We would be good at it and our performance would be wicked hot. My brain (among other things) is already flooding with ideas. I don’t know about you, but I will have to practice simulating an orgasm since I’ve never faked an orgasm in my life. Let’s do it. You pick the song.

story of my life

10 Apr

This is why I have a guest room, fellas.

History of Easter Traditions

8 Apr

Happy Easter! I hope your Easter Sunday Mass did not involve too many crying children and your egg hunts were fruitful.

Have you ever taken a moment to ask why bunnies, eggs and Jesus are related? Well, this morning I did some research on Easter traditions and got lost in articles about Easter witches in Sweden, kites in Bermuda demonstrating the Ascension of Christ, the Easter Egg Roll at the White House, and the pagan spring goddess Eastre. You really should check it all out later when you’re at home in a food coma (post religious reflection about Jesus and how he died for our sins, of course).

Rabbits don’t lay eggs, so why would our beloved bunny carry eggs? Some sources indicated that the rabbit and egg both represent fertility and new life and were celebrated by Anglo-Saxons during the spring equinox. Later in the 1700s, German immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania shared their tradition of the egg-laying hare “Osterhase” or “Oschter Haws.”  Their children made nests  in which the rabbit could lay its colored eggs and they left out carrots if he got hungry. As the tradition spread, decorated baskets replaced nests and the rabbit’s deliveries included chocolate, candies and gifts.

So, there you have it. History can be so interesting. My sources are below, I suggest checking out the Time link.  Have a nice Sunday!

Top Sources:

1. Encyclopedia Britannica – Easter 

2. History.com – Easter Symbols and Traditions (photo also from History)

3. Time.com – Top 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Easter

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