This morning in the shower I wrote a poem about being a linguist. I am not a linguist, but this is what would happen if I were one.
___________________
If I were a linguist
who uses her tongue freely,
I would be cunning and write a poem about
driving a lexis
and wearing a diphthong.
There’d be something in there about synnning
and taxes and that’s why
I’d be awkward and have no friends
if I were a linguist,
so I wouldn’t be much different from who I am now,
if I were a linguist.
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.
When I was a teenager, I was so embarrassed by my large chest that my mom and I used to strap them into two very tight bras to hide their bounty. We were successful to a certain degree, but as an athletic girl playing lacrosse, soccer, basketball and field hockey, someone was bound to notice them bounding about and finally one day a bitchy girl on my lacrosse team called me “thunder tits.” At that time I was a 14-year-old girl with a DD cup.
When I was 23 years old, I was 5’3 and a FFF cup. That size is hard to imagine now that I am a large D cup, but I am telling you those things were so huge that I couldn’t see over them. They were so giant that I was able to use them as a pillow on airplanes or long car rides. Once, I found a pretzel lodged between them and I hadn’t eaten pretzels for over six hours.
And people, oh my god, don’t even get me started on boob sweat.
When my shoulders were noticeably suffering and sleeping became a chore, finally I decided to get a breast reduction. I was looking forward to the health benefits, sure, but I mostly wanted not to look like a porn star when I put on a dress or bathing suit.
The surgeon removed eleven pounds of boobage from my body. He said it was possible that I would never regain feeling in my breasts, but I didn’t care. Having surgery was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, especially because I can fit into normal clothes and sometimes guys even talk to my face. It took a long time to get used to my body after the experience, but I am much more confident now than I ever was in the past.
I still couldn’t feel much and my nipples remained almost completely unresponsive until last week when there was a new development. My friend Kara noticed my nipples got hard almost immediately when I saw that my boyfriend had surprised me with flowers. Two days later, I ate some really good cheese and they got hard again (I guess I really love flowers and cheese).
Tonight, if you go out, I’d like for you to have a drink or quiet thought in honor of boobs. If you’re up for it, why not stare at some boobs and make a stranger, your friend, wife, girlfriend or mom really uncomfortable? If you have permission, I think you should probably touch some boobs, too. It will be fun!
Boobs are a sexy, important part of life and for me they were a total pain in the ass, but I’m excited they are finally getting back into the groove of things.
Yay boobs!
I love when life provides a beautiful “moment” when everything blends perfectly and I am keenly aware that my soul, heart and brain are exactly where we all need to be. Do you know what I mean?
For me, this usually happens when I see something inspiring or have a life changing experience. For example, one time I was standing on the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, taking in the beauty of the sea and rolling hills and it was overwhelmingly wonderful.
It happened last night, but in a different sense. My boyfriend and I were sitting in my car, seat warmers getting our buns nice and toasty, and he was telling me an awkward boner story. We were both draped in St. Patrick’s Day lighted necklaces…
…and for some reason Michael Bolton was playing…
“Here I am,” I thought to myself, “having a tingly ‘moment’ while listening to this story about an awkward boner experience and we have on these lighted necklaces and for some reason Michael Bolton is singing ‘(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay’ and he sounds kind of angry about it and when Sean and I get inside we are going to eat the f-bomb out of some delicious cupcakes and I wonder if he would still kiss me if I was wearing my stick-on orange mustache that my boss bought me for St. Patrick’s Day and hey, you know what? I’m happy.”
And then we went inside and ate those cupcakes and he said he would kiss me if I was wearing that orange mustache, but I didn’t make him. Not yet, at least. I’m gonna whip that thing out one day in like the middle of summer so I get mustache sweat or something and then he’ll have to kiss me because he said he would.
When’s the last time you had a “moment?”
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.
Sometimes I like to share tips with the ladies. Today, I would like to touch base with you on some things that make me a very attractive woman. Perhaps you will benefit if you try these things too…whether you are single, trying to keep the passion alive in your current relationship or just trying to feel really good about yourself.
1. Like cool music. Today I was late for work today because I was listening to Phil Collins. I was late yesterday because I was listening to Toto. On Sunday night, I was listening to Tom Jones. Also, I once drove 4 hours to see Asia in concert.
2. Wear something sexy to bed every night. I wear this to bed and boys probably love it:
3. Wear pretty jewelry that accents your arm hair. I caught my arm hair in my bracelet this morning and now there is a big red mark. Perfect! When I get home this evening there are bound to be some boys in my yard, if not all of them.
4. Have classy dinners. Here is mine from last night. It’s pizza and wine in a bag that I drank from the spigot:
5. Leave a ring of ankle hair and just a tiny bit of toe hair on one foot. If you have a significant other, he will not only stay for breakfast, but also second breakfast and even elevenses.
6. Wear an intoxicating scent. Right now I have on “menthol” from the Biofreeze pain relief line. Men will ask, “what is that putrid stench?” and you will smile with confidence, knowing that it is you.
7. Drink coffee from a designer mug. This is my mug:
I know.
9. Have an intense, boisterous guffaw as your laugh. You’ve heard mine in my videos. Guys seem to really like it a lot.
10. Always carry an extra thong in your bag just in case there’s a chance of you getting sexy with someone tonight…or in case you pee a little while laughing.
People often ask me where I get my sense of humor. Well…here he is!
“What ever happened to good old 50 Cent?” — Dennis, My Dad
My mom says that before I was born, my dad was a very serious person. Then, like magic, the earth was blessed with the miserable baby miracle of me and my dad’s number one goal from then on was to make me laugh.
My dad is my very best friend and I am so grateful to have him in my life! I love you!
Thank you for being so supportive, for teaching me about sports, showing me love, sneaking me candies before bedtime when I was growing up and, of course, thank you so much for always making me giggle. You’re the best!
I made a video montage so everyone could celebrate and watch him in action.
Enjoy!
Here is how to have a good day today whether you’re happily married, single, your wife hates you, or your boyfriend is abroad:
1. Quit yer bitching and be grateful.
2. Look nice. Shave for once. It feels good to look good.
3. Wear something festive. Today my underpants are pink. It’s like a secret party in there that no one can see.
4. Eat a lot of M&M’s.
5. Give candy to your co-workers because the fatter they are, the happier you are.
6. Laugh at funny things on the internet.
7. Fart on really pretty people. They deserve it.
8. Dance and/or drink excessively.
9. Eat more M&M’s.
10. Go to bed remembering that some people only feel special today while YOU feel special every day.
I guess I got an award from twindaddy.
Thanks, buddy! I don’t usually participate, but I feel like sharing some fun facts, so here we go.
1. Last Valentine’s Day, Dane threatened to take me to Medieval Times for dinner. He even sent me a photo of the place etc… and said he was picking up the tickets. We didn’t go there (thank god), but instead went to a Greek rooftop restaurant called The Olive Room where we ate perhaps the best calamari of all time.
2. Last Thursday I ate an entire cake for dinner and I carry no regrets.
3. I do EFT. I know 99% of you will think it’s nuts, so hold on to your butts. Ha, poet. This one is relevant for this week.
4. I would probably still be a devout Catholic if communion tasted like pretzel dogs.
5. On Sunday I was blazing mad and taking my clothes off at the same time and I kicked my panties so hard that they flew up and landed on my head.
Some of you have asked for a preview of my collection of stories. It is not finalized, and I may not even include this one, but feedback is more than welcome. Let me know what you think.
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About four years ago I began seeing a guy named Kevin. He was younger than I was, which was a change of pace from my usual interest in older men. He had a “top secret government job,” which I thought sounded sexy and mysterious.
Kevin and I had a lot of fun together. I liked his preppy style. He was a typical party guy who loved drinking and socializing, which was perfect because I also happen to enjoy drinking and socializing.
Our first date was to a really fun bar in the city on a hot Tuesday night. It was a perfect date, really, even if we did get a bit too tipsy. He was tall and I loved his cute nose sunburn, and the way he looked into my eyes when he bent down and tucked my hair behind my ear before he kissed me.
I have to admit that I am such a sucker for a hot date on a summer night with some cold drinks. Who isn’t?
When it was over he dropped me off at my house and said he would call me the next day. When he did, he invited me to meet his parents out on Friday for happy hour, and then he and I would go out afterward. It sounded fun.
That Friday I wore a pretty blue dress my mom had bought me for “something special.” I was excited, and I’ll admit a bit nervous to meet his parents on only our second date.
Kevin picked me up and we met them at a bar on the water in Fells Point, a really cute area in Baltimore City. His parents, Phil and Viv, easily were two of the nicest, most fun people I have ever met. They were young, hip and everything I could have wanted on a date with parents…until his mother took out a nail file.
It could have been the effect of the beer, but I swear to you that I watched in slow motion as his mother reached over to her son and began filing his nails. My jaw dropped.
“He doesn’t keep up with his nails very well, does he?” she commented.
“Err, I hadn’t noticed,” I replied.
“Well, he doesn’t. He’s not very good with his room, either. You’ll have to push him to clean.”
The whole thing lasted only about three minutes, but I am telling you that it was such an odd moment that I couldn’t help but comment on it later. “Kev, does your mom always file your nails like that?”
“Yeah, she does, she’s kind of a control freak.”
I kind of wish I had run at that moment, but do you think we should we really judge people immediately about things like that? He was younger than me, after all. Maybe he was just a bit immature, or maybe I was just making up excuses. I didn’t know, I was just glad it was over.
He and I went to another bar and got food and more beers and somehow we thought it would be fun to make a bet that for every beer I drank, he could drink two in the same amount of time. It turned out that he could, but as you can imagine after my four pints and his eight, I ended up drunk and he ended up extremely drunk. We kept laughing and enjoying ourselves, though. He was such a fun guy to be around!
Afterward, we decided to walk back to his house, hand in well-manicured hand. He lived about seven blocks from where we were and at block three he started picking up the pace.
“Why are we rushing?” I inquired, doubling my step to keep up.
“Sorry, I have to use the bathroom.” My roommates are out, so when we get inside just make yourself at”…and then, my friends, he pooped his pants.
Right then and there, Kevin farted and pooped his pants.
I got a cab home.
We never talked again.
Dog lover. Storyteller. Urbanite-Suburbanite. Poet. Music addict. Editor. Explorer. Wine enthusiast (Malbec, please). Anglophile. People watcher. My dream job? Writer, or a Tom Jones back up singer. Well, not Tom Jones now, but Tom Jones in the early '70s...so let's go with the writing thing.
tales of a charm city chick 