Well, we are certainly NOT the Mowry sisters!

Upon a mild and milky May morning 24-years-ago today, a little girl was born unto a Rodeo Queen. The year was 1985 - a great year for births - and with President Reagan starting his second term in office, it was also a great year for celebrities to save Africa, Commodor Amiga Personal Computers and for Australia to finally get AM Radio (Amen)!

The little girl grew, as the lucky little girls do, and without noticing a change or dizzy dazzling difference she was in the second grade. This year was more significant than most due to the company she would keep, and as she ran barefoot and twirling through a field of daises down to the creek, she suddenly paused. A summery breeze rushed around her as she thought what she thunk, a sixth sense one may call it, or a wish list or a galloping skunk. For little did a different little girl know at the time, that as her father drove her home from her first summer camping away, that their stars were about to combine. And like a butterfly in the sky, one that can go twice as high, a tender heart would at first break, but like the thunderous sound of a million mustangs, the hearts would heal and mend and eventually the two little girls would become the greatest of friends .

"How was camp," the father spoke.

"It was cool," said the second little girl with a second little girl choke.

"Honey, I have something to tell you and I know you won't be happy. I sold your horse today and please let us not get sappy."

"What," the second little girl mummbeled over hot breath and tears. She couldn't believe it - this was her worst fear!

"But don't you worry," the father spoke trying to redeem himself. "The Rodeo Queen and little girl and her brother are going to keep it at our house. You can ride him when you want - so don't you be mean!"

And that was that. Life had changed in the largest of large ways - just as it had for slaves and southern tenant farmers and carpet baggers as Eli Whitney introduced the Cotton Gin and cotton picking suddenly became 'in.'

For years, summers and springs and falls were spent playing together. Riding on the bareback of a mighty bay while drinking Dr. Pepper and chewing on hay. Life was grand and the air was fresh until the evilest of evils caused quite a mess. The second little girl's father was married to a witch, don't you see, and she sent the Rodeo Queen, the first little girl and her brother away with a scream.

Many moons passed before the first and second little girls reunited - many moons before the Rodeo Queen rescued the second little girl's father and made him her King. But this time was different, it wasn't so fun, the laughing was gone and the fighting begun. They fought and they scought and they screamed and they yelled and everyone in their house had thought they'd seen hell. This went on for a while until the second little girl finally said, "I think dad has some whiskey in that whiskey cabinet of his. We should drink some of it" and that is dern well what they did.

The friendship reunited, now more of a sisterly bond, and when the second little girl went to college and called the first with tears streaming down, she rushed to her, she rushed out of town.

Macaroni was made and dance music was played and suddenly out of a foggy smoggy fleet, their old friend Lavar Burton showed up and gave them a treat. There was laughing and singing and joy - oh, the joy - on that night of splendor - a special memory for them both to keep.

Closer to the time it is now, as the two little girls continued to grow, their hearts began to sink, their lives became a bit too slow. For the little girls had not found love, which seemed to be all around, and then little girl number two had an idea. "A prom! A dance! That will surely turn things around!"

With hope and gusto and a little Tanglewood magic, they built a mighty bonfire, hoping the evening wouldn't turn tragic. A band was hired and tunes were tingled while dances were danced and with little boys they mingled. There was laughing and singing until the night too soon ended - and that was that - that was all - and everything was splendid.

Happy Birthday, Kori! You are amazing - keep doing what you're doing and living what you're living. I'll be home soon and to Cody's we must go for biscuits and gravy, laughy taffy and to play the lott-o.

And, well, you have to like this story because we are related. And you are the first and I am the second as I have already stated. Okay? Okay!?!?!

The World Is A Vampire!

About three things I am absolutely positive. First, I am not a vampire. Second, there is a part of mainstream popular culture - and I don't know how strong it is - that will not let this vampire feeding fever die. And third, and I swear to this, this post will officially and irrevocably be my *last mention of vampires on this blog.

I have finished the Twilight Saga, read the 264-pages of 'Edward's' version on StephanieMeyer.com and have watched the movie more than 5 times. I need to stop. I need to be done. It's over - I know how the story ends - officially - because I read it. But the world doesn't seem to care about my needs. The world wants to keep going with their own SparklyVampire love stories.

Exhibit A: CW Vampire Diaries TV Series Pilot Promo Trailer



Looks good, doesn't it. DOESN'T IT! I know, right?

So this vampire show, foreseeably about vampire love, is being touted as the '90210 for the dead crowd.' I don't know what that means, but it makes me nervous for high school teachers.

Exhibit B: Buffy's Back

It was also just announced that Buffy the Vampire Slayer will be coming back to the big screen. Interesting, I think. So, not only will people be watching their weekly dose of teenage vampire love on the small screen, we can also expect at least 4 more big screen flicks.

I don't know...this is a horrible blog post and I'm sorry.

I've decided I'm over it. I am now a Vampire Elitist and will not succumb to those low rate knockoffs. I am going to lust after the next big monster craze. Aliens? No. Demons? Probably not. Ghost? Yes! Ghost love is going to be it! Someone needs to make a great love story between a ghost and a human. Maybe there can be a sexy pottery scene and a loud-mouthed psychic with sass! By golly, that would be good....

Peace. I'm out.

*This rule does not include mentions of possible musicals and Sparkly Vampire Love (cause I just really like saying it)

Time to Hang the Hat - Time to Retire the Beads

It's over and I survived. Spring Break 2009 was wild and amazing - well, the kind of wild and amazing a loser that has no social life and has to work everyday of her 'spring break' has. And I didn't get shot, so that's good too.

On Saturday night, I went to that writer hipster party with Catherine. Except, it wasn't really all that "writer" or all that "hipster," it was basically just a party. After a failed attempt to start a secret exclusive dance party - the secret party within the party - we sat on the front stoop, Sesame Street style, and talked about the musical we plan on writing.

The plot is a bit loose, but we did think of some great names. And, I did text them to people during a separate dance party later that night, which (the party) was much more mainstream and part of the whole party, less secret and more lame. Sorry about the late night texts, people.

The following are possible names:

• *Hot Cross Buns - Vampire Puppet Love; A Musical
  
• Hot Cross Buns - Witch Baby Lezzy Puppet Love; A Musical
• Hot Cross Buns - Old Timey Hookers with a Heart of Gold; A Musical

I'm leaning towards the Hookers with a Heart of Gold angle. Not only does everyone love a good hooker tale, but EVERYONE loves hookers with hearts of gold. They just do.

On a separate note, which has nothing to do with Hookers or Lezzy Puppets, I just don't get James Taylor. How do men exist like that? Where did he come from? It's like he lives on hugs and rainbows and handcrafted clay coffee mugs? I just don't understand it. So, if you know someone like this, I would like to hear that story!



*Yes. I have seen Sarah Marshall. It looks different in my head. Okay?!

Shared Text Messages While in the Process of Being an Idiot

Two things:

1. I'm still in the midst of my Spring Break. My throat is raw from speaking over loud bar music, my mouth is peeling from the overly acidic beer and my eyes are doing that really dizzy spinning thing and won't focus. I feel like crap. Last night was the full rev-up to my final, one-time only, blowout weekend to commence my week of idiocy.

I started off at Quartino's with Catherine, Ashley, Jessica and a liter of wine. The next stop was a layover at my place with Catherine and beer before meeting up with Julie and Liz. The three of us ended up closing down 1 restaurant and 2 bars at which point I have memories of then heading to Big City Tap - a late night bar - memories that include Champagne buckets, dancing really awkwardly and Liz kissing me on the cheek 17 times.

I'm not sure how I did it, but I showered when I got home. Thank God. It must have been inspiration from all of the crack-heads and teen gay runaways I passed walking home at 3 in the morning. Ashley had an egg McMuffin sitting on my desk when I arrived at work this morning. If this spring break doesn't kill me, it will only make me stronger.

2. I was texting a lot last night. I looked through my phone this morning with some horror and a dash of surprise sprinkled on top of a clump of embarrassment. Below is a small recap of the texts I sent.

To: Ashley
4:09 pm Thu, May 14
Drinks after work?

To: Catherine
5:54 Thu, May 14
We are on the patio at Quartion's - come!

To: Julie
6:08pm Thu, May 14
What time are we meeting up?

To: Catherine
10:33 Thu, May 14
Thanks for coming - glad you're home safe. I went to Caesars with Liz and Julie after all.

*To: Dan
12:18 am Fri, May 15
You are a lying liar

To: Dan
12:19 am Fri, May 15
Gert - I need to come clean

To: Rachel
12:29am Fri, May 15
Nothing - snake arms - but he keeps telling lies about our friends and I'm going to vampire kick him in the face - tell him that

To: Dan
12:32 am Fri, May 15
Guess. I'm a vampire kicking you in the face.

To: Rachel
12:33 am Fri, May 15
I am superman - and I can do anything - tomorrow - he knows what he did.

To: Dan
12:34 am Fri, May 15
YOU'RE the drunk girl!

To: Dan
12:36 am Fri, May 15
Stupid

To: Rachel
12:38 am Fri, May 15
No. Lies were told. Suffering will be had by all. Stop sitting in your bed next to the liar and texting me at the same time. How did the footlocker mtg go?

To: Dan
12:41 am Fri, May 15
We can talk tomorrow - just get ur dancing shoes shined. Did you look at my blog?

To: Scott
1:19 am Fri, May 15
Niiiitar

**To: Ashley
1:36 am Fri, May 15
I will most likely need u to bring me breakfast tomorrow.

To: Julia
1:37 am Fri, May 15
I'm an idiot. I'm a dancing fool. I'm an idiot.

***To: JT
1:39 am Fri, May 15
Because liz and wiz said and I'm an idiot

To: Julia
2:01 am Fri, May 15
I don't know.

****To: Nick
2:07 am Fri, May 15
Your favorite song is on!

To: Ashley
2:04 am Fri, May 15
This is bad news

To: Liz & Julie
10:12 am Fri, May 15
I might die. I love and hate u both.

To: Julie
11:39 am Fri, May 15
I'm wearing the same clothes I wore last night - but I look less like a pirate


So, basically I was yelling at Dan. Apparently he lied. Lied about what, though?

This should be a lesson to everyone - don't drink, stay in school and never, ever go out dressed as a pirate while you're reading up on vampire love - it makes you all crazy and stuff.

This song is making me feel better - this song and lots of water.





*The night had apparently taken a turn
**Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that. You're a great friend.
***I adore this kid, but he was not part of any conversation. I'm not sure how he was caught in the crossfire.
****Nick is my cousin. I don't know what his favorite song is.

Josie the Killer

My sweet little sister, Baby Jo, loves to ride horses and rodeo. It's something my father and her do and enjoy together, and also something the majority of my family just doesn't really seem to understand. She never fails to regale me with stories of goat tying, country queens and Rodeo Proms (whatever that is). Though she is now a beautiful 17-year-old young woman, I can still see her little fat Cheeto covered baby cheeks and hear her devilish teasing little giggle every time I close my eyes. I am so proud of who she is and the multifaceted sides of her personality. She loves everything from George Strait to George Michael - she has mastered the skill of hanging with the kids who kick cows to the ones that kick soccer balls - she is comfortable at The Drake and in the sleeping quarters of a horse trailer. I love her more than any other person on this earth. She is my very favorite little brat. 

My other sister, Kori, recently sent me a link to a picture of Josie in action. I was impressed. She looks like a killer. I sent the link to a friend of mine - I called her a lioness, he referred to her as a T-Rex. I think he was right. I have compiled the comparison below, and believe you will agree.  She is the one in the pink shirt in the top photo, if you couldn't guess...

I love you baby Jo Jo Bean, you little killer, you.

This is my Spring Break? - I think.

Recently, I have been a very serious girl. The no nonsense kind. The boring, go to bed early, have no social life or any interest other than vampire love kind. Well, I suppose this week is a little tiny break from that - a spring break of sorts. 

It started off Monday night which was filled with Thai food, Giant 47lb Rooster and tunes from the Little Mermaid - and I wasn't even alone!

Last night, I had fully intended to go home, read some more about vampire love, go to the gym and run while watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey, pack my lunch and go to bed. Responsible and typical behavior of a sad and lonely girl. That didn't happen. I was lured to Kirkwoods by a boy that claims to be related to the Hardy Boys. He was alone. He had beer. I tried to fight it, but he won. I was forced into fun.

Tomorrow night an old college roommate of mine is going to be gracing Chicago with her presence. There will be margaritas and old college stories and probably some smoking - presumably some puking, and a lot of slurred laughing and excited finger pointing. I'm excited.

Friday is also an adventure. Rachel and Gertrude, a boy that resembles a matured, whiskey drinking, cigarette smoking, stubble clad Cabbage Patch Kid, plan on taking me drinking and dancing. They plan on making me less boring. I can't fight their need, so I have conceded and will try to remember to wear comfortable shoes. 

Saturday? Some fancy hipster writer party with Catherine. I'll probably get shot. 

Tonight? Who knows.  But from what I can remember about college spring break and what I've learned from years of watching MTV, I should prepare myself for dehydration and an addition of 5lbs-7lbs on the scale. Perfect. 

I guess I'm living la vida loca - until next week when sad and lonely girl returns. 

A Boy Named Ira

Everyone has a list of celebrities they love or shows they are obsessed with or a book series they think about all the time, regardless of its literary prowess. The obsession starts. Thoughts like, 'Seriously, I think Pink and I would be best friends' begin to run through your mind. And, you can try and hide it, handle it on your own, but eventually it gets out. This week in blogging has been filled with lots of confessions as well as depressing self loathing thoughts. So why stop now? Just consider this my version of Sandra Bullok's RomCom days.

I am in love with Ira Glass. The glasses, the desk, the smooth radio voice, the gentle giggle when he finds something truly funny. I love him and I love his show and I want to be friends with everyone that is a contributor to This American Life, especially Starlee Kine, Sarah Vowell and Dan Savage.



Day dreams of us sitting around over coffee and cigarettes, sharing tales from our personal lives that are both touching and ironic, sometimes touchingly ironic, would flood the air. We would laugh at Dan's sex jokes, Starlee's tumultuous relationship with her mother and Sarah's take on all things historically American. And then Ira, he would make a few comments, laugh a little, divide the evening into acts and hold my hand. It would be perfect.

My little obsession was only made worse last week when a colleague gave me two tickets to see an encore presentation of This American Life live - but it wasn't really live. It was a rerun of a live show shown in a movie theater. It didn't matter. I laughed just as hard at the Tori Malatia jokes, cried over Dan's touching story about his late mother and, as expected, ended up getting so excited at the end, I had to sit in the theater alone, in the dark, to calm myself.

The show is wonderful, and if you don't listen to it, check it out. They make a television version, but it's not the same - not as personal, and I hate it. I asked my friend Catherine what makes the show so great - it's just a public talk radio show, after all. She thinks it's because the stories are about really cool everyday people, doing really cool extraordinary everyday things. People you could meet on the street or sit next to on the bus. Aka: She knows I wish I was as hipstery and well read as they are. I'm not. Thanks, Catherine. You're a brat.

So, while I doubt I will ever get the chance to wed Ira, he will always be ranked highly on my list of celebs I wish I could.


And, I feel like I need to say this, if Ira's publicists picks this up in a google alert - I'm sorry I'm creepy. I am.

We are not vampires - we are more like werewolves

Unhappiness. So many of my 20-something friends are so very unhappy. Unhappy with their jobs, shape of their nose, color of their teeth, race times and state of their facebook relationship status.

I don't exclude myself in this. My career...wait. What career? While my race times could stand some improvement, I do think I have pretty white teeth, regardless of what one of my 'friends' told me.

Conversation with 'friend:'

Her: 'Katie is always picking on me.'

Me: 'Seriously? Why? What could she say to you?'

Her: 'That my teeth are yellow.'

Me: 'I don't think your teeth are yellow. She's just being a brat.'

Her: 'Yeah. Well, they're the same color as yours.'

End scene. I have yellow teeth - according to a bratty idiot.

Back to my point. The biggest complaint I hear is that my friends are unhappy at work. This sucks, especially since this means we spend most of our waking hours at a place we hate doing something we hate more surrounded by people we hate even more than that. As children we are lied to, told we can become anything we want. Firefighter? Sure. Doctor? Of course. Astronaut? Okay. Puppet Master? Heck, why not? Lies. All lies.

The thing is, not everyone gets to live their dreams. Not everyone gets to do what makes them happy. Someone has to be the maid and pickup the garbage and deliver food to your table and answer the phones. It's just a gut sucking realization.

But, does it really matter? Does it really matter that we don't get to spend our time on this earth working the jobs that make us happy? I'm not 100%, but I'm pretty sure the answer is no. No, it doesn't matter.

Just stay with me and think about it. I'm 25, so I expect to be around for roughly 70 more years. 70 years after I die, my children and my children's children will more than likely be gone, too. Dead and gone. It won't matter what I did, who I was, how I brought in the bacon. No one will remember my name or the color of my skin or this blog. This rule is nonexclusive. You won't be remembered either - just like Donald Trump, Pink and that the Sears Tower was originally called The Sears Tower. It's just a fact. We are all going to die, so without trying to sound all existential or suicidal, it's better to just forget what is making you unhappy at the moment and have fun. Laugh. Giggle. Drink too much. Run too slow. And laugh some more.

We are all going to be dust before we know it. Alas, the folks at Disney were on to something again.




And, I don't like kids - really - not much anyway, but I do like Van Morrison and this video seems really fitting. Even if it does have stupid kids in it.

13 Days and Vampires

HELLO!

It's been a while. How are you?

So, just now. Literally mere seconds ago, I stepped out of a cab, past the beating drums of the Blue Man Group theater, including some growling homeless men, waved to my neighbors and walked happily into my beautiful, luxury 2-room studio apartment. I have finished working my 13th consecutive day - 5 days in the office, the salon, the zoo, 5 more days in the office, the salon again and babysitting. I'm not any closer to purchasing a bike, though, given the opportunity, I'm not so sure I wouldn't just take one that didn't belong to me.

No I wouldn't.

Yes I would.

No. No. Yes. No.

What? Wait? What. no.

I have been working so much, have become so tired and anti-social, that I have been living almost completely within my own head. Having conversations aloud (and alone) with myself about everything from my thoughts on the books I'm reading to how I feel about the institution of marriage. I suppose it is at this time I also should admit my current most shameful secret - my secret shame. Hello, my name is Lauren and I am reading the Twilight series. Hello, my name is Lauren and I like the Twilight series - a lot. Hello, my name is Lauren and I thirst for the Twilight series, books written for middle-school girls awaiting their first periods, the same way Edward thirsts for Bella's blood, but without the same willpower to deny myself the poorly written, melodramatic mythical romance of it all. Hello, my name is Lauren and I am deeply embarrassed by my recent behavior.

Last Saturday, I went to this great little independently owned book shop (sorry, Walton's) down the street from my apartment to find New Moon - the second book in the 4-part series. I struggled to locate it in the store and as I roamed the isles, my eyes glazing over titles and authors, I grew ever more nervous knowing I would have to ask the owners for assistance. Could I say I was purchasing it for my little sister? Was it a gift? Am I a middle school teacher that just wants to know what 'all the kids are gabbing on about?' No. That wouldn't work. This was my addiction and I needed to be honest - to come clean. Plus, I hadn't spoken to anyone outside my place(s) of work for weeks. I needed to admit this to someone. I needed to say it aloud. I had to tell the truth.

As I approached the counter, my face blushing as I forced myself to look the attendant in the eyes...

'Can I help you?'

'Yeah. Um. Well. Um. New Moon.' I mumbled.

With a slight laugh, 'Right behind you.'

'Oh.' - 'I don't see it,' I said as my face turned Cheez-It box red and my hands and upper lip began to sweat.

'On the floor. The bottom shelf.'

'Oh, thanks. I'm just a little embarrassed.'

'Yeah, It seems that way. And we will need your name and contact information to add to the list of girls that are quite obviously too old to be reading these books.'

'I'm going to puke.' I said to myself as my face turned white - I think it did. I felt like it did. I didn't have a mirror. Bella's probably would have.

'We publish that list on our web site, craigslist and also send copies to the RedEye and the Reader. That will be $11.20. And I'm joking.'

'Hehe,' I managed as I handed him my bike money.

'Romance starved 20-somethings buying this crap keep us in business. Enjoy your takeout and vampires.'

'Thanks. How did you know I ordered Thai for din....'

Needless to say, I ordered Eclipse and Breaking Dawn from Amazon.

So, essentially, what I'm saying is this. I might be going crazy. I've been working non-stop and when I haven't been working, I've been locked in my castle reading about vampire love, the recent rainy weather convincing me I'm actually in Forks, Washington (the setting of the books).

The worst of it is, is that I think the main characters are awful. Edward is a child molesting control freak and Bella needs to get a grip and stop puking and passing out all over the place. If she can't stand the sight of blood as a human, chances are, she's going to suck at being a vampire (no pun intended and I haven't finished the last two books). But I can't stop. Errrr.

If you're reading this, you might want to call and check on me. If it wasn't for cold Britta-filtered water and Paul Simon, I would surely try and become a vampire myself.





PS - don't you think Paul looks like what Jane would look like?