Thursday, April 09, 2015


I never knew cooked carrots could be this delicious. A buttery, salt-laden nub burst between my teeth, these weren’t the carrots I grew up eating. My mom didn’t cook, and when she did, it was alright. I sensed this was not the “Joy of Cooking”, as she never seemed thrilled when she had to whip something up.  It was a painstaking task, and it was either for her coworkers, or if we were lucky, us.  

I never thought much of my childhood, and when I did, I would get into the rotten parts only (thanks depression!) but I knew, I had a pretty interesting upbringing. 

My brother was born mute – didn’t cry, which scared them into thinking he was born deaf. Autism wasn’t a big thing at the time, (No Jenny McCarthy) because of this there wasn’t much of an umbrella to branch out and explain different spectrums. Mental health wasn’t thought much of, and they simplified to such an extent that most people were misdiagnosed. Some were medicated to the point of drooling. 

Which is pretty fucked up. 

Joseph was diagnosed with tourettes syndrome, a mental syndrome that is not at all what he has. He definitely was on the autism spectrum, but since the only way you could have that is if you were the severely retarded (think: drooling and yelling). As a result, he was not counted.

Unfortunately for his sanity, my brother is a psychosomatic personality. He meticulously read and researched every morsel of information he could squelch about his mental state. He became an ambassador of the handicapped- well, TouretteSIcapped, which meant that he informed everyone he met about the reality of the "syndrome". How it wasn’t all cuss words, and such. He would have these “ticks”. There would be so many “fuck yous”, and middle fingers, I think my pops was thinking they were at him - inner guilt?  I would always silently chuckle, because I never really knew what else to do. Any one in his company would get so flustered and helpless, as to help cease the cuss. I would try to relax him by saying our favorite silly words, but mostly, I would follow the sleepwalker rule.

Unfortunately, once they correctly diagnosed him, he still had the tics. I’m assuming this was due to my mother not allowing him to read any information about his new disorder. Smart move. I can't say that this is the case now, as he has switched sides, and has ambassador-ed up for Team Aspergers. Instead of blaming his tics on Tourettes, he now blames his nude night walking on being an Aspie, after he was busted on camera gallivanting in the buff by a retail store in the middle of the night.  

They should consider themselves fortunate to have such an open minded spokesman. 

Friday, January 10, 2014

Gut 1, Lauren 0

Douche bag...Walk away.

"Hey Beautiful. What 'chu up to today"

Hmm. He does have dimples(!) and really great hazel that a yellow tooth?

"Are you trashy, or classy gal? I prefer a trashy one, been dealing with a classy cunt for far too long."

That is indeed, a yellow tooth.

"Your eyes, I can't stand how beautiful they are. Blue, not like my crappy hazel ones. I always wanted eyes like yours."

Ok. So he DOES have some piercing hazel eyes. And he kind of dresses like Joseph Gordon-Levitt. In Inception. (Oh, the vests!)

"Yeah, do you speak any other languages? I really dig girls that are worldly."

Considering his English could use 15 more minutes a day on the "Speak and Spell", I don't think he should be interviewing unless he meets his own criteria. But he does wear some tight pants.

"So, like, do you smoke? Would you have any..." I regrettably didn't, then he slid his hand into his pocket. When I squinted and realized he had his own measly cigs, I rescinded the regret.

"Yah, there's not many cute girls around. We should hang out sometime, really see if we connect."


A long drag off his cigarette allowed his eyes to shift nervously as they awaited my response.

"I'm really busy with my yoga practice right now, and honestly, I think I like girls."

Friday, January 03, 2014

"I consider it a safe word, because it stirs up warm, comfortable sensations in me from growing up. Especially since cacao grows on trees."

Maintaining my attention was growing difficult, as my mind roamed to a sketch comedy that perused it for that purpose. 
"Growing up in Peru, my sister used to pick it and make chocolate covered fingers with it. Yeah, it really puts me in the comfort zone when..."

Oh Peru. I loved that coastal, rocky land. Ceviche,  Pisco sours, Alpacas...gosh, I really hope I can visit-

"Deep frying my little brother's cat was also a joyous memory. He would scream, and I would cackle loudly at his misery..."

I felt a set of brown eyes seeking out my reactions, but I gave them none.

Cats. I always wanted one of my very own. But I hated the responsibility that came with ownership.  I just wanted  one to snuggle and love when I felt like it. I'm a bit of a selfish bastard at times.

My companion, who at this point had it with me and my wandering mind, got up and patted me on the head.

"Hey...hey, where are you going?" I was hoping she would tell me more about her cats. I love cats.


Thursday, January 02, 2014

Loner times

"Hey, I was just kidding!! Get back over here!"

The sun wasn't doing much to melt my shuddering shoulders. Even as a child, I never liked being around other children. Obnoxious. Bossy. Loud. Their stupid games and made up truths. The scaly reminder of "leaves of three, you should have let them be" was more pleasant company than my peers. At least I could imagine puffy, itchy animals in my battle wound. Carefully oozing calamine lotion to prevent opiate-like scratching, I insured that the pink goo would add to the creations I discovered. My mother would gaze disapprovingly, hinting without subtlety that others needed relief as well. I ignored all cries; I knew my uni-dragon needed it's tail and horn a delightful shade of frosty pink.   

Daydreams and reality

Feeling the weight of the truth, my arms wield him into a tenacious hold, with the hope that it could make him forget. Is this what I wanted? A connection so strong, yet it confuses me terribly. We are always making connections, believing what we feel to be real and binding, and maybe forever.

Is it though? 

Loneliness creates this beautiful illusion for us. What we are lacking in our 9-5, or in our relationships, we discover in a new being. And it cannot be freed from our thoughts. Destructive as they may become, we focus on them, instead of creating new adventures in reality. 

Orange tinted dreams.

"Please, come back to me.." 

I pleaded with my subconscious while squeezing my eyes closed. Waking up after a Malarone induced dream left me somber. Especially since it involved an infant Orangutan purchase - I finally discovered the nurturing side in me.

I made no attempt to be an adult and prepare myself for the day. A quick glance at my mobile reminded me I did have 3 more that window I could easily have at least 4 more ape adventures. Maybe I could teach it to hula hoop, drive a Cadillac, and hang up all my artwork. Practical with a dousing of outlandish seems respectable. Examining each challenge I had in store was proving to be far too lofty for the time frame I had to work with. A deep, frustrated sigh reminded myself that these shenanigans were to take place another time. As I slipped on a non-stink lined panty, I chatted to myself schizophrenically that I can always zone out at the office to the rhythm of the copier. My responsible voice rapped my loony one with a ruler, shaped like common sense. Being a responsible human sucked. With each whisk of the mascara, I envisioned my fingers being engulfed by tendrils of flowing ape hair. Unraveling my thoughts a bit prematurely, my lashes now resembled a big boned spider. The misfortunate of being out of cotton swabs also stabbed me - de-clumping my day dream mess was harder than braiding baby Orangutan hair. 

"C'mon, shake dat ass, show me wut you workin' with!"

Mystikal reminds me that I have responsibility in this life - to shake dat ass. Wait, no. To go to work. I haphazardly toss my shoes on, and forget my lunch, while displaying what this cracker is workin' with to the neighborhood. 

Monday, November 25, 2013

Lies and make believe.

"Say…have you seen the blues man?"

 It came out more as a pondering thought, similar to asking me if I smoked. I could feel him rooting around his pockets for a lighter. 

I hesitate, not sure if I wanted to engage in street philosophy. "Yes." I reply, not used to hearing the confidence soar in my voice.

"Where didya see ‘em, by chance?" His query was genuine.  My bottom was grazing the crumb laden cushion of the Yaris, while my mind was yearning for the dialogue.

"Oh, you know," I nonchalantly drawl, "everywhere. He’s all around us." Cue warm smile. 5…4…3…2... I calculate, waiting for the pitch. No one just has conversations just because, right?

"What’s your name?" His eyes, quite intensely cued on my reaction, were soft and genuine. 


 Lola? Was that all I had? Of all the names I fantasize about, that was my best, fake name? As I was silently cursing lack of imagination in name choice, my new hobo friend threw out another inquiry.  

"Lola, have you evah been to Atlanah, Georgia?"

" Hmmmm," as dreamily as I could dredge, "nah, I haven’t. But I’m gonna." 

That seemed to please him. 

Sunday, July 07, 2013

Best quote I have read in a while

"...True literature can only exist when it is created, not by diligent and reliable officials, but by madmen, hermits, heretics, dreamers, rebels and skeptics..." 

Yevgeny Zamyatin 

A friend affixed a different quote by this gent to her status update, and I, being intrigued, yearn to discover more about him. 

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Prehistoric Laurenation.


Yes, that's right!

In 2013, I JUST put a frozen dinner in the...wait..the OVEN!!

Yeah, that is correct!

I have succumbed to my frugal ways, and denied my 21st century-self convenience!