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What’s in Your Bag?

12 Sep

Boss: Can I move your suitcase?

Me: It’s my bag. Sure.

Boss: Why is it kind of heavy?

Me: I usually have random, useful things in there.

Boss: Like what? A weapon?

Me: I’m not sure what’s in there right now. Let’s see.

 

The current contents of my bag (minus keys and lip gloss):

Exhibit A.

 

Boss: Really? A giant wallet, screwdriver, Under Armour shirt and shorts, banana, bottle of water, purple pen and hand lotion?

Me: You never know what you might need. Usually I have a mini Kleenex packet, a hair tie and a stain removal pen in there as well.

Boss: You’re a mess. By the way, there’s a young, new Italian guy named Donato on the 6th floor if you want to meet him.

Me: Is he cute? And I am not a mess! What if I’m hungry? What if I have dry hands? Go ask your wife what’s in her bag right now.

Boss: Okay…and yes, he’s 25 and very handsome. Blue eyes.

 

He leaves and comes back 20 minutes later

 

Boss: She has a wallet, keys, scissors, pen, toothpaste, pair of shoes and an orange.

Me: I rest my case…and sign me up for Donato.

 

 

 

 

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Lament for My Squeaky Bra

10 Sep

 

Sing to me, O Muse, the cause of
a squeaky bra on the day I
presented my pimped-out PowerPoint
of which I was once so proud.

Not pearls, heels nor shaky laser pen
could take the attention from
these blushing cheeks
as each step bore the betrayal of creak

and squeak.

O, bra most exquisite!
What awkwardness thou hast provided
whilst supporting my superior bosom.

Continue not this costly crime against me,
for our intimate time
together has been not long

and I do not know if you can be fixed with WD-40.

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Young Marlon Brando

4 Sep

 

I was making my way into work this morning when a guy who looks like young Marlon Brando grabbed my arm:

Young Marlon Brando: Hi…

Me (pulling arm back): Hi?

Young Marlon Brando: Sorry, this is weird, but do you want to meet me for a drink after work?

Me: Does anyone ever tell you that you look like young Marlon Brando?

Young Marlon Brando: HEY STELLA!!

Me: Hahaha, that’s a yes. I’m Lauren. Do you work on campus?

Young Marlon Brando: No, I’m here on business. Will you meet me?

Me: How about Camden Pub at 5:15?

Young Marlon Brando: Looking forward to it.

 
And then he kissed my hand and walked away. Smooth. I didn’t get his name. Those eyes. Smooth indeed.

My, young Marlon Brando, what sexy lips you have….is it getting hot in here? No? I guess I did have a lot of coffee, which would explain why I’m so nervous and jittery. Just breathe, Lauren, you don’t even know that guy’s name. I need to keep it together. KEEP IT TOGETHER. I need to keep my legs together. Oh god, I should have worn panties today.

 

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Little People Circus

13 Aug

 

On Saturday night, my friend, her boyfriend and I went to a little people circus in Harrisburg, PA.

I imagined that they would do typical circus things, but it turned out not really being  that kind of circus. First of all, the tall, round, ringmaster spent the evening pretending that his penis was an elephant and that it made elephant sounds. Weird. Then there was a tiny Elvis impersonator who later juggled with fire. Fun.

My favorite acts, however, included the talents of Jordanna James and Nik Sin.

Nik Sin, who has a bit of Marilyn Manson style (and has played mini Marilyn Manson), came out in clown makeup and a red nose and deep-throated a balloon, which is a fine magic trick, indeed. As far as a small clowns with tattoos deep-throating things goes, I think this performance takes the cake. He returned later in the show and escaped from a small straight jacket while hanging upside down. I suggest looking him up if you have time.

 

Nik Sin

 

Jordanna James came out in the same cheetah costume that I wore for Halloween when I 9, except she stripped out of it. I didn’t remove mine in any sort of sexual fashion. She also danced with a whip to Circus by Britney Spears and rode around on the ringmaster’s back. I liked her weave.

 

Jordanna James

 

It was a fun evening and I recommend checking them out if they’re ever in town.

I  uploaded the picture above to Facebook and on my way home that night, I received questionable messages from two different men.  Enjoy.

 

Guy 1: Can you get the number of the blonde little person please?

Me: I already left… are you serious?

Guy 1: When you’re horny, why not? My belief is my penis will be bigger to her and I’ve always wanted to feel like a black guy.

Me: Fair enough.

______________

Guy 2: I want to have a threesome with you and the blonde little person, is that wrong?

Me: To each his own. I don’t do threesomes, but thank you for including me in your fantasy.

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Ginger and Big Tweety

8 Aug

Four years ago, when I first moved to Baltimore City, I lived in Butcher’s Hill with my best friend, Kelli. There were a number of characters in our neighborhood, but my two favorite white trash locals were named Ginger and Big Tweety. Those two were always out causing some kind of trouble. Sometimes when I walked by I would throw a fake gang sign and if they said it wasn’t a real gang sign I would be like, “It is too. It’s for a new gang I made up–you guys can be in it if you want. Girls only.” They always shook their heads at me, unsure if I was being serious.

One morning at 4:15 am,  I walked a friend to his car that was parked five blocks away (god forbid anyone ever find parking anywhere in this city).

When I returned to my street there were two seedy figures frantically scratching at the lamppost in front of my house. I was nervous until I realized it was just my neighbor Ginger and her girl Big Tweety. Tweety’s real name was Trina, but she was hefty and regularly sported a gorgeous stonewashed denim jacket with Tweety Bird on the back and a Tweety Bird denim bowling bag as her purse–so naturally, Ginger called her Big Tweety.

This is what used to be written on the pole:

Ginger ♥s Jamaal
Fuck All Bitches and Niggas. I Love him 4EVEr Always.

 

While Big Tweety worked diligently to cover this expression of true love, Ginger was writing something else. I got bold (was wicked drunk) and asked, “What happened to Jamaal?” and Big Tweety calmly replied, “He dead.”

Ginger said nothing.

I felt really bad about it. “Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I kept apologizing to her, but soon realized she didn’t care all that much because she was writing this:

 

Ginger ♥2 david
(Looks like someone got a little excited and wrote that ‘s’ backwards)

 

Four years later, we remember Jamaal and all he did for the neighborhood, including the time he lit a bag of poop on fire and chased a kid with it and that other time he went door-to-door asking if “anybody got any weed.”

Rest in peace, Jamaal. We hardly knew ye.

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A penguin walks into the bar…

23 Jul

Hi folks. I just wanted to say thank you to the 600 people who now follow this blog (for some reason). I am grateful for your support, witty comments and all the laughs we have shared together. I want everyone to smile. Now, since penguins are my favorite animal and the bar is my favorite place to go….

 

 

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Haiku–Charm City Style

4 Jun

Thank you Elliot (brainsplats.wordpress.com) for the Versatile Blogger Award. I wrote him a haiku about Baltimore and then forced four scientists to do the same because Elliot enjoys both the occasional haiku and the HBO series The Wire. I wrote the last one. I didn’t give specific instructions, making this a little more interesting than I thought it would be.

 

Haiku–Charm City Style

W. North Ave, 1100 blk. Photo taken by my friend/the creator of charmcityvacancy.com

Perfume to my dog.
Loves to rub his face in it,
dog park, human poop.

Danger is at hand.
Street-walker prowling about
as I am harassed.

Rushing to our cars,
the thrill makes us feel alive.
Locked doors, safe again.

Scattered chicken bones
stranded along the sidewalks
of west Baltimore.

“Don’t be afraid, babe,”
he says, holding a syringe.
I walk more briskly.

 
Normally I don’t do awards, but if I did, I would give this prestigious award/shoutout to Madame Weebles because she is a funny, sarcastic, smart lady and I like her taste in hot dead guys. Also, Mr. Weebles is from Maryland, so he is probably a hip dude.

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Joys of Owning a Townhouse

1 Jun

 

Despite my strange Baltimore neighborhood, I love my unique 1940s house and I’m glad I bought it. My favorite room is the retro basement with wood paneling and shuffleboard vinyl tiles.

The best part about the house is that I don’t hear anything through the walls from my neighbors because there is an old married couple living on each side.

I have always assumed that in return, they hear nothing that I do. I didn’t know if that was true until today. When I woke this morning, I sneezed and my next door neighbor said “bless you” so I felt inclined to reply with “thank you” and he took it to the next level with a “you’re welcome.” I sat there for a moment, wide-eyed, jaw on the floor, wondering what else they’ve heard.

These things include, but are definitely not limited to:

  • Intense singing
  • Loud drunk talking
  • Beer tears
  • Pep talks I give to myself in the mirror
  • Weird Skype  sessions
  • Theme songs I make up for myself
  • The cusses I yell at insects that have invaded my personal space
  • Dirty talk
  • Blog posts being read aloud before I click ‘publish’
  • Evenings spent practicing different types of laughter. I dabble, but my favorites are sexy laugh, cute giggle, guffaw, evil laugh, stupid blonde girl laugh,  Muttley from Wacky Races, Beavis and Butthead, and that bashful buzzard from Loony Toons:
 
My friends, I shall remain forever horrified. Have a good weekend.

 

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In memory.

14 May

 

I would like to say I am sorry for the time we fought and I got all worked up and did not know what to do so I farted on your cat and shouted, “Take that!”

Hey, it lightened the mood and we both laughed so hard that we couldn’t breathe. Isn’t that the best kind of laughter?

Later, you told me I should post about it, but I never did because, I mean, who does that? Well, I guess I do. Hey, I never said I was perfect.

I am sure you’re having a nice laugh in heaven right now remembering that one.

Life will be forever different after today and you know what? I have never been so scared. I will miss the way you used to hold my shoulders, look in my eyes and say, “Be brave, you’ve got this.  I’ve seen what you can do.”

Be brave.

I think that today, after your funeral, I am going to go home and hug your stinky cat, run in the pouring rain and sing every song from Grease 2 at the very top of my lungs. That was our favorite.

Rest easy, Dane. Wow, I am going to miss you.

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Wedding fun.

13 May

I went to a wedding last night and wore a pretty halter dress. I didn’t wear underwear with it because I have managed to tuck this particular dress into my underwear on two separate occasions.

I avoided tucking my dress, but I didn’t avoid the wind blowing it up so the 4 guys walking behind me could see my butt. I also didn’t avoid spilling water all over my chest.

So embarrassing. Sometimes I feel like if the personalities of Jess from New Girl and Bridget Jones reproduced, they would create me:

 

The future Mrs. Arthur Fonzarelli in 2010, post underwear tuck.

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