Tag Archives: humor

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.

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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

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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.

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story of my life

10 Apr

This is why I have a guest room, fellas.

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The luckiest girl in the world

28 Mar

It’s hard to leave you for the day,

Let’s cuddle forever

and be like kids when we play.

At night, we meet at my front door–you kiss me.

I don’t mind that you don’t have a job

and your tattoo gives you history.

So they call it puppy love,

but what can I do?

I am hopelessly and endlessly in love with you.

...even if you burp in my face, have a snaggletooth and occasionally smell like corn chips

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Case of the Mondays

26 Mar

My thoughts exactly. This lady and I would be the best of friends. I bet her name is Edna. Come along, Edna, we can count down together.

 

 

Okay everyone, back to work.

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Six things to avoid on a first date

20 Mar

Six things to avoid on a first date

( that have happened to me on a first date…all within the last 6 years)

1. Try not to fall and cut your knee/leg/ankle. If you do, try not to cry. If you cry…avoid allowing your date to dress your wounds (but hey, if you’re horny, this is a great, easy way to let a guy in your pants).

2. Don’t laugh hard at his jokes and say something like, “Oh my god, that’s hilarious, I love you!” because you will spend the next 5 minutes in silence or awkwardly trying to explain what you meant.

3. If you’re out and you see the person who waxes you, avoid drunkenly calling her over and announcing, “She has seen my vagina!”

4. Avoid nose bleeds. Or, if you’re trying to get out of the date, don’t avoid nose bleeds.

5. Don’t talk to anyone who in the past has given you an embarrassing nickname. Your date may start calling you that nickname (“Moose” or “Wee Wee” are 2 examples).

6. Avoid tucking your dress into your panties. You should avoid this on all dates and at all times. I suggest that you look in the mirror AND check for a draft before you leave the ladies’ room. This should be easy enough.

Actually, while on the topic, here are the things you should be doing in the bathroom (in a timely manner):

  1. Pee quickly–you’re holding up the line. Do not pee on the seat. If you pee on the seat, be classy and wipe it off.
  2. Flush.
  3. Wash hands with soap.
  4. Check your teeth for the dreaded pepper tooth (a spice stuck somewhere near that lateral incisor).
  5. Check hair.
  6. Check cleavage.
  7. Gloss up those lips. Do not get gloss on teeth.
  8. Check that dress is not tucked into underwear.
  9. Smile and pose. As always, you are the loveliest lady up in that place.
  10. Grand exit.

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WebMD

15 Mar

Am I the only one who despises the WebMD symptom checker but still visits the website anyway “just incase”? I swear that when I type something as simple as “headache,” they basically tell me that I’m going to die within the next 24 hours or that I am mentally ill and, at least for a little while, I actually believe it.

Recently, I visited the website and it gave me 2 possible conditions:

 

 

For the record, all I needed was sleep and I have never craved or eaten paint, plaster, dirt or laundry starch. Today, I went to the search and typed “swollen gland,” clicked a couple of symptoms and here are the possible conditions…

 


…and here was my thought process upon reading this:

1. Cat-scratch disease?! That’s real? Well, it says that I would need to be scratched or licked by a cat. Wait, a cat licked me last weekend at that party. Wait, I HAVE a cat. Crap, I have cat scratch fever!

2. It can’t be Lyme disease, I haven’t seen a tick on me. Then again, I live alone. What if the dog brought it in? What if it was on my back and I didn’t see it? I am achy and fatigued….shit! I have Lyme disease!!!

3. Oh great, I probably have TB!! Figures!

4. I don’t have an abscess and my throat doesn’t hurt…so it’s not that stuff.

5. I haven’t kissed anyone, so it isn’t Mono. Wait, we shared cake at work last week! Oh no, it’s Mono!! Bright side–maybe it will help me lose weight. Um, Lauren, don’t think like that, you’re so weird. And stop talking to yourself like this. You need professional help.

6. Swollen glands, well duh, that’s what I clicked in the first place.

7. I HAVE THE PLAGUE? I knew it! Stupid rats!!!!! I’m going to die in 4-7 days?! How tragic, I never got to finish my world tour or get married and have kids! I just coughed. Fuck, how did I get this big bruise? Is that blood? No, this can’t be the end, I’m too young to die!!!!

 

I am still stuck on that 7th thought. So, we’ll see. Oh and hey, I apologize if I gave anyone else the plague. My bad.

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To squee or not to squee

27 Feb

Last March I adopted a puppy and named him Porter.

Recently, we were playing and I realized just how ridiculous the things are that I say to him. For example, this morning when I woke and saw my dog, I changed my speaking tone and said, “Ooohh, look at hiiiiimmm! Hims a widdle boy here! Hims a boy here with me and I love hiiimmmms face!” Then, I kissed his little nose and hugged his sweet head. I don’t know why I say those things, but I am acutely aware that applying this to any other situation would make me absolutely nuts. This is him by the way:

 

My cuddly, sweet fwiend and his cutest puppy face!

 

This, I learned, is called pet-directed speech and there is research that investigates features which differentiate the two speech registers, neutral and intimate, within different constellations of speakers and addressees (such as infant-, pet-, foreigner- and lover- directed speech). Usually we change the way we speak without even thinking about it, but it’s only acceptable in certain situations and is a very funny concept.

This is how Porter responds when I speak with a silly voice:

 

 

He either loves it or it’s driving him insane–I can’t decide. I have a friend who used to make a high-pitched sound and iterate something that sounded like “SQQUUEEEGGIIEE!” whenever she saw her dog. Most girls I know do the sounds and/or say nonsense things when it’s a small or baby animal. I imagine that if there was a show that consisted only of baby animals playing with each other, that millions of ladies would be in their homes just making sounds. I would get nothing done. I would watch and clap and jump like a damn idiot, despite being a sarcastic, grown ass woman. I try to hide this side of myself, but if you were to hand me a puppy and a cookie (I like cookies), I would absolutely lose it.

Men are a different story. If they choose to talk to animals with voices, it tends to be a dumb or dorky sounding voice that is meant to be the voice of the animal and it is often accompanied by sound effects. Men really are just large kids, after all. Out of context, how funny would it be to see guys doing that kind of crap?  You know, like in the workplace? Or while watching football? I’d pay to see that shit.

So, I’m curious, do you talk to animals in a silly voice? What do you say? Does the animal have a goofy nickname? Porter’s nickname is “honey bear” and when he is wet he is  “little baby seal.” I did not choose these names, they just came out of my mouth one day.

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a date worth mentioning.

20 Feb

Two years ago, I decided to join the Baltimore dating scene. I didn’t know what to expect. I met a lot of strange men that summer, including the male version of myself, an extreme racist, a horny firefighter, a douchey baseball coach, a comedian, a dude who looks exactly like Kevin James, and a guy who actively uses dollar signs to replace the letter “s.”  However, the weirdest date was with the hottest, tallest one of them all:  Matthew.

We met for happy hour at Brewer’s Art. He was a tall, dark and oh so handsome lawyer. Throughout the entire date he stared at me intently, listened to everything I had to say and was quick-witted. It was sexy. He had such an interesting life and we talked and laughed for hours. However, around drink number 4 or 5, the mood began to change slowly and the atmosphere got intense. He pushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “like Helen, you have a face that could launch a thousand ships.” I laughed nervously. What an odd thing to say. Then he asked me to “make him immortal with a kiss.” Was he being serious?  “Heh, maybe later,” I responded.  He started petting my head. Things were getting weird and I decided it was time to leave.

Matthew walked me to my car (which was of course parked about a mile away). During the walk he told me how beautiful I am. Repeatedly. He was just naming random parts of me that he thought were beautiful, such as my collarbone. Who says that? Then he complimented my “strut,” which was odd because I really had to go to the bathroom. He was complimenting my pee pee walk! The more we walked, the less I liked him and the more I had to pee. When we got to my car, it turned out that I was parked right in front of his apartment building. Perfect. I really didn’t want to pee my dress on the ride home. Thank god, I thought, I’ll go right in his apartment, use the bathroom, and come right out. No big deal. Friends, I was wrong.

We went upstairs and I ran for the bathroom. Heaven. Just as I flushed, I heard some sassy R&B music coming from the other room. My heart began beating rapidly and I looked at myself in the mirror. Just walk out there and say no thank you and leave. You’ve got this. 

I took a deep breath.

When I opened the door, I was startled to find him standing right there, all 6’4 of him, completely naked and ready to go. Before I could even think, he picked me up and started kissing me in a way that felt like he was trying to suck my soul from my body. His tongue was everywhere, like even licking the air and stuff. It was so weird. Then, he grabbed a folder from the top of his refrigerator that was packed with magnum condoms. “PUT ME DOWN!” I yelled.

He put me down and frowned. He was out of breath from all that air licking. “Don’t you like what you see?”

That thing was huge and menacing. I have never seen anything like it. “Um, I have to go,” I said, and I turned and ran like the wind.

He ran out after me into the hallway. “Can I still take you to dinner next week!?” he called out. When I got to the bottom I looked up the spiral of the steps and saw him standing naked at the top. “No thanks!” I yelled back, and I never saw him again.

The lesson here, folks, is that if you are in a weird situation and you have to pee, fuck the unknown. Pee your dress.

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