Late To The Party

Lorraine Says: But the Good News is That I'm Alive

2012-02-09T12:03:00.000-05:00

I have this weird food quirk: I can’t look at or think about my food too much or else it starts to gross me out. This is of course excluding chocolate, which becomes yummier the more you think about it. This is especially true about yogurt. I have to scarf yogurt down before my brain knows what’s happening.

I feel like I’ve been thinking about this blog too much lately. If you stare at words long enough, they start to lose their meaning. If you consider what it is you have to say, it won’t be very long before you come up with the answer- “very little.”

I’m all clamed up.

My father has a food quirk: he can't see onions in or around his food. Last night was my mother's birthday. We went to a Japanese steakhouse with Pink, Cheese Cream, Gailey Ellie and Vyelit. They brought out a little soup and my father happily spooned mouthfuls. My sister sent me a text message: "who's going to tell dad that this soup is full of onions?"

Perhaps these things are all mental.

Lorraine Says: Remember Who You Are

2012-02-02T11:08:00.003-05:00

Siiiiimba.

I know. You’re thinking, “this crazy is gone for a week and she comes back with a line from “The Lion King?!” Then I realized that if you skipped over the title of this post, you have no idea why I just said “Siiiimba.” Do you skip over post titles?

THEN I realized that if you’ve never even seen “The Lion King,” well maybe we can’t be friends.

Anyhow, a funny thing happened between my last post and now. If you’ll recall, I mentioned perhaps letting more "in real life" people know that I blog. You all had wonderful, wisdom-filled words and I thank you for them. Some of you said, “you have nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. You have nothing to hide.” My inner Lor was all, “YEAH! I don’t have anything to be ashamed of!

…do I?”

So, I went back. All the way back to the first post and one by one I’ve been combing through the nearly 300 posts ever written on this blog.

HOLY. MOLY.

Want to know where I was for a week? Cowering in SHAME. The sort of shame you feel in your core when someone breaks out the home videos, or if you come across that one diary from middle school that includes the time you went to a church camp in Pennsylvania and fell in total heart with a cute boy who lived in New Jersey, who you would later sneak long distance phone calls to. I’m pretty sure that was just me, but I hope you understand the sentiment.

Let me clarify: there was a point in time where most of my posts followed this basic pattern-

Today I feel _________________.

Now let me summarize some of those posts for you: sad. Happy. Sad. Sad. Happy. Meh. Happy. Meh. Sad. Mad. Mad. Sad. Happy. HAPPY. Meh. Sad. So sad.

Granted there were days even weeks between posts, but re-riding Lorraine’s Emotional Roller Coaster, aka 2009/2010 was exhausting. I quit somewhere in 2010 and figured that if anyone dared go back and read that stuff, they deserved to know whatever they wanted.

In all honesty, though, after the great and terrible shame had passed, I felt a little proud. It’s the kind of pride that punctuates the realization that yes, I once sucked, but I’ve made progress. And despite however I feel about all of those posts, it isn't even that Then Lorraine was that bad. It's just hard to look back and remember. I mean, we're meant to change. We're meant to look back and see better in hindsight. I know I'd feel worse if that weren't true for me.

Now that I've brought up the past, looking back and, um, camp I can bring this up: Bug Juice.

Someone please tell me you remember this show.

It aired on the Disney Channel in the late 90’s and followed a group of tweens at sleep-away camp for the summer and YES, episodes are on YouTube. Apparently, I’m ashamed of discussing my emotions, but not of admitting to spending time watching an almost 14 year old kiddie reality show. Just so we’re clear.

Also not ashamed to say I wanted to be on this show like woah.

Also, also not ashamed to admit that I lightly stalked some of those campers via the Internet. Turns out, they mostly turned out to be really normal, off the grid sort of people. Now, imagine if you will, you are approaching 30, and your equivalent of that one diary you had in middle school is a televised show where you chase after boys, are afraid to swim in the lake and say, “girl power” a lot.

I KNOW, RIGHT. YOU FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOURSELF ALREADY.

You’re welcome.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go have the theme song to Bug Juice stuck in my head all day.

Bug juice, it doesn’t come in a jar
Bug juice comes from who you are
It has the flavor of what you can becooooome.

Wait... what the hell?

Lorraine Says: SURPRISE!

2012-01-23T23:27:00.000-05:00

My dearest readers, I need a opinion. Please honestly tell me what you think of the following:

So, mom, dad, sisters, friends: I have to tell you something. Don't worry! It's nothing bad. But. I just wanted to let you that I've been secretly blogging for the past two years under a fake name. You're all in my blog! SURPRISE!

No?

I'm thinking no. The problem is, of course, that after so much time keeping it to myself, there is no graceful way to introduce the most important people in my life to what is one of my favorite things to do. I mean, I'm not prepared to attach my real name to this blog, but I just think it would be so much easier if people knew that it at least existed. If I could just say simple things like, "it's for my blog," or "yeah, I know so and so because of the blog," that would be awesome.

A story:

On Friday, I got home to a package. I have a group of 10 other girl bloggers who I speak to daily through an email chain I'm surprised hasn't blown up the Internet with it's awesome. Apart from being we-laugh-we-cry sort of friends, we've also taken to sending little gifts to each other whenever we can.

I opened mine enthusiastically and was more than pleased to find a box of zebra cakes. (Note: In case you're new around here, I love zebra cakes.) I sent out an email to the girls, specifically Nugs whose name was on the package, and thanked her for my sweets, which had filled me with both the joys of mail! and sweets!

"We thought you could use something good this week," Nugs emailed back. "We love you Lor!"

Are these not the best friends ever? I'm not even under the influence of a lard ton of artificial flavors when I say that. (Note: yes, I am, but still.)

So anyways, I did my best to explain to my mother why I was now accepting Little Debbie snack cakes via postal service. "Uh... my friends know I really like them... and wanted to comfort me... and stuff."

Fast forward to today. When I woke up from my nap* Cheese Cream, Pink and the girls were just getting here to visit my father. I sat down with them and ate and after my last bite, I noticed that there was another box of zebra cakes right in front of me.

"Hey, who bought these?" I asked.

"I thought those were yours," Vyelit offered.

"Nope. Cheese, you bought these?"

"Wasn't me, " he said in between a bite.

"Mom?"

"Oh!" she said. "That came in the mail."

"No," I said. "I already ate that box**."

"No, that one came in the mail TOO. Today," she explained.

"WHAT. Who was it from?"

"I don't know. No dijo."

"What do you mean it didn't say?! Where is the box?"

"Afuera. Papi said the box was strange looking so he took it outside. It was addressed to the Lord. Que es eso, dique LORD VALVERDE. So he took it outside and opened it there."

"Lord?" I asked, trying to hold in my laughter.

"Si, algo asi. Lord, lor, lor, something."

Vyelit lit up. "LOR?!"

I wanted to die! I mean, of how awesome that whole exchange was. It made perfect sense to me that someone would send zebra cakes to Lor. To my parents, it made more sense that someone was sending snacks to the Lord. HA.

Man, I just want them to know. As much as it would be weird to have them read this convoluted, romanticized, fictionalized account of something like our life, I just want the zebra cakes to make sense, you know?

Harley owned up to this newest box of z-cakes, by the way.

"Didn't mean to deliver a bomb scare to your door! My bad!"

All is forgiven. That isn't even the delicious, creamy filing speaking either. (Note: yes. It might actually be.)

Any insights on the big reveal would be awesome. If not, just feel free to talk about how jealous you are that I receive snack cakes in the mail**.

I like all of your faces, with or without an overdose of sugar.

*1000 points for whoever was all "WHAT YOU NAPPED?" Don't ask me how or why, but the stars aligned and there was napping. Yay me!

** Don't you judge me! I shared some of those zebra cakes, okay?!

Lorraine Says: The Five Pounds

2012-01-19T12:07:00.001-05:00

My mother sometimes tries to scare me by saying I’m obviously plagued by any number of vague physical maladies.

“Lorena, it’s not possible that someone your age is tired all the time. You must have something wrong. A deficiency. Maybe something worse.”

Uh, who said anything about being tired? I happen to like reading in pajamas like other people like the outdoors and stuff.

And, alright, fine, maybe I’m tired. With so many crazy things going on, I’ve become an energy conservation expert. I feel like I’m constantly expending energy on stuff like peace keeping, future planning, rumor controlling, Serious Talk having, and being okay-ing. Mix in work and church and maintaining key friendships, and, well, whenever none of that is going on, I shut down. I hibernate. I watch Netflix. A lot.

While it certainly feels like I’m working overtime simply “being okay,” I have quickly come to learn that “being okay” doesn’t actually burn any calories. LAME.

It’s all a sick cycle, because now, if I ever feel like maybe I want to put pants on, I’m finding that said pants are fitting a little snug and I no longer want to put pants on.

This is not an “I’m fat” post, let’s make that clear. Fat and skinny are relative terms. I mean, sure, you can call me fat, and then I’d call your mother fat, and which one of us is right, you know?

This is a post about The Five Pounds*. Not any ‘ole five pounds, but those motherlovin’ five pounds that always seem to show back up even though, didn’t I just get rid of you?

This is probably what five pounds looks like, right?

I’ve always been a weight yo-yo-er. The worst is waking up on that morning, catching a glimpse of yourself and realizing: the five pounds are back.

I recently got into a conversation about working out with my co-workers. They are all running on New Year’s Resolution steam. I’m talking doing Zumba at lunch, instead of, you know, eating, which is how I personally prefer to spend my lunch. Bert Gordon is going to a gym that specializes in crazy work out routines and ~~yelling at you~~ “motivation.”

Everyone was talking about having some sort of external motivation, whether it’s a group of friends or co-workers, or sweaty fit men yelling “you can do it!” while you climb a rope.

Uh, no. No to all of it. I am just NOT motivated by any of that. Actually it turns me off. The more I hear, “C’MON LORRAINE,” the more my brain says, “hell to the no.” Oh, I shouldn’t give up? I suddenly feel like giving up sooner. I can do it? I’m suddenly sure I can’t.

If I’m ever motivated to do anything, to really stick to anything, it has to be born inside of myself.

I asked a few friends what motivates them, mostly in an effort to make sure I wasn’t the only crazy who didn’t like peer motivation. One person told me anger motivates them, which often leads to a fat-but-happy lifestyle. I remembered that the skinniest I’ve ever been in my life was when I was unemployed and depressed. Yeah. Not doing that again.

It really isn’t about skinny, though, at this point. If it were a matter of fat-but-happy, I’d never say a word. I’m currently fluffy-and-uncomfortable.

And dammit, I just want my pants to fit!

I'm curious about what motivates others. Clearly, I'm quite the bear when life gets hard- call me when it's over. I'll be over here sleeping. Anyone else? Anyone? Anyone?

Anyhow, I'm gonna go get a salad for lunch or something.

Much love for your faces,

*I'm not actually sure if I've gained five pounds but The Ten Pounds had less of a ring to it. Also, it scared the crap out of me. Five it is.

Lorraine Says: A Living Grief

2012-01-18T23:26:00.004-05:00

Shit ain't funny, part the fourth.

Warned:

"Hellooooo," I singsonged as I entered the house. I was just coming home from a particularly exhausting dance class. I was hyper the way that only physical activity can make you hyper.

No one answered me. Instead I found my sister and parents gathered around the living room table. My mother was fidgeting with her hands. I couldn't see my father's face. Vyelit was looking at me disapprovingly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get my text message?" Vyelit asked. I glanced down at my phone and saw no new notifications.

"No?"

I waited. No one seemed in a rush to tell me anything.

"Papà died," Vyelit said finally. Two words exhaled. My father put his head down and was soon lost in his swallowed sobs.

I could only think one thing: are you kidding me?

For those of you following along at home, last month, we found out that an act of violence has left my little sister expecting. Two days later, and just before Christmas, my grandmother died. Here we are, less than a month later and now my grandfather has joined his vieja.

God damn the timing, right? I mean, this news just when things were getting a little better. It made this loss hurt much worse. Then again, I'm so tired of hurting, that I found myself quickly pushing it all aside. Everything is okay. Everything is okay. Things were just getting better.

I almost didn't write this post. I almost didn't say a word, because the last thing I want to hear is another condolence. That's a horrible thing to say and I'm sorry. But I mean it. I'm tired of this entire process and the predetermined things one must say and the very acceptable way one must act. The more bad things happen, the more fault I find in grieving.

All anyone wants to do is help, I know, but I'm not a talker. I'm not an emote-r. I'm not a sharer. And yet I can't escape the question, "how are you doing?" It's always spoken with Very Serious Eyes and perhaps one hand on my shoulder.

I want to scream at people, tell them to notice how hard this is
I want to scream at people, beg them to please leave me alone. Stop bringing it all up.

Every question becomes stupid.

How do you think my family is doing?
If we weren't close, does it mean he's less dead?
Please, you tell me what you could possibly do.

And now, I'm actually very sorry. I'm being unfair. I'm being mean. Grief is unfair and mean.

The less I express, the more the emotions exhaust and consume me.
The more I write, the more reviling I find all of these emotions. I write them and they seem foreign. They seem trite.

If someone says a joke and I laugh, I feel so bad because life just keeps on going.
If someone says a joke and I laugh, I feel so much better because life really does keep on going.

There is no winning. And so goes grief.

Grief is lived. It is woven in all the normal moments that comprise your days. You cannot stop for it. It is impossible to identify the edges of grief. You cannot talk it away. You cannot pass it on to others, no matter how sorry they are. Grief is lived.

I almost didn't write this post because grief is fleeting. Capturing it seems a silly thing to do. But it didn't seem fair to the man I called Papà.

I wish I could tell you how many children he had, but even after 25 years, I still don't have that family tree clear. He had some kids, my grandmother had some kids, they had some kids together, and then of course, there were the strays he always seemed to pick up. He was a father to them all.

Their story is one that is mired in the mixed up memories of the aged. Things don't add up. He must've had more than one woman at one point, we're sure, but who are we do bring it up? He long ago repented. He long ago found forgiveness from his wife. He long ago found peace with his God.

It's a reoccurring joke amongst the Valverde family cousins that we've never seen Papà young. There are no pictures or memories. He's always been the balding, pot bellied grandfather who loved to garden and "fix" things, even when everyone wished he would just sit still and not touch anything. He could never sit still.

My grandfather said the same things to me every time I saw him. He would say how proud he was of all his grandkids. He would say how good looking we all were. He would make sure we knew we got it from him.

He knew two phrases in English: "you monkey" and "you ugly."

I visited his house in the Dominican Republic once. I felt like a princess sleeping in the bed that also fit both my sisters. I didn't understand that the net was to keep the bugs out.

My sister Vyelit, on the night we got the news, observed that we no longer have any grandparents. It thought it a weird thing to say, but perhaps the thought just made me uncomfortable. My parents are the grandparents now. When exactly did that happen?

Although I'm tired of bad news, it didn't seem fair that that would mean that Papà would go unremembered.

Thank you all for reading and listening. I know I haven't left you with much to say.
That's okay.
I'm okay.
Everything is okay.
Things were just getting better.

Lorraine Says: Yep. Lorraine Definitely Wrote This

2012-01-16T19:34:00.005-05:00

It's no secret that my friends and I consider ourselves a riot. I suppose that's why we're all friends. Or, delusuional.

One way that we often remind ourselves of our own sparkling humor is by recycling a number of what I'll call "interjections" or "asides." These Asides are usually slipped in between conversation topics, or after good hearty laughs. Something like:

Friends: AHAHAH HA HA hahahah ha ha haha. Ha. Haaaaaa. Heh. Hmmm.

Silence.

Friend: I like turtles.

See what we did there? I mean, that whole "I like turtles" thing was actually the invention of a zombie kid from YouTube, but here a few of my favorite of our original Asides:

- It's Almost An Immediate Right - I've lived in south Florida nearly all my life, but if you ask me to drive in Miami, my palms will start instantly sweating. I mean, bad driving is spread throughout Florida, but the devil you know is better than the traffic in Miami, is what I'm saying.

Well, one night, Vyelit, Venus and Fetus were on our way to pick up Tipiti from her house in Miami. I've been to her house a handful of times and I still don't know how to get there, so Vye was directing me from the backseat. Except that between our conversation about ugly feet and singing "Cry For You" at the top of our lungs, Vye was missing her cues.

I was making a left hand turn (okay fine at this point we were double backing to stop at a Krispy Kreme) and I was happily chatting away when Vyelit violently screams, "IT'S ALMOST AN IMMEDIATE RIGHT." By the time she finished yelling, I'd missed the entrance to the plaza anyways.

There were only a few seconds of silence before we all lost it. 1.) That was a weird direction. b.) That is just way too long to yell! and cat.) The urgency was amazing. AMAZING. I mean, Krispy Kreme doughnuts are good, but damn.

Since then, we use it as either a comeback or a space filler, and it never loses its charm.

- Yeah. My lovely two year old niece gets told quite often how amazing she is. Perhaps it's our fault then, that whenever you tell her, "Gailey, you're so pretty," she cocks her head to the side, puts a little hand on her waist and responds simply, "yeaaaah."

Said in her two year old drawl, "yeaaaah," has become a favorite response to life.

- I LOVE CHEESE. Also courtesy of Gailey-bird. Do you guys remember Dunkaroos? (Strangely this is the second time I've mentioned Dunkaroos in a post.)

Well, Gailey eats them occasionally and the other day, she brought some to my house while Venus was over. She very graciously offered to share her Dunkaroos with Venus, and even showed her how to properly dunk the hot air balloon into the icing. After the cookies were finished, Gailey started sticking her finger in the remaining icing, and licking it up.

"Eat it!" she urged Venus.
"Ew," Venus said. "I mean, no thank you. That's for you. You eat it."

Gailey didn't insist, but after a few more licks, she very excitedly screamed, "I LOVE CHEESE!" her small fists raised in the air passionately. Venus and I laughed until we couldn't breathe.

"That's not cheese, mama. That's called icing," I explained
"Oh," Gailey said, dunking her finger again. "I thought it was cheese."

Fair enough.

- Remember that one time? This one comes to you via Penny. We were at the beach one day and quite simply, this wave came out of nowhere and pushed me down. I was spitting out salt water, and wiping it out of my eyes, and trying to get my hair under control while Penny laughed at me. After I'd settled down, though, Penny said, "Hey? Remember that one time, ten minutes ago, when you got bitch slapped by a wave?"

For when you refuse to let amazing things die, I present to you, "remember that one time, ten minutes ago."

- Occasionally. It's no secret to my friends that I find inadvertant "yes" replies to not yes or no questions hilarious. Has it every happened to you? For instance, a waiter says something like "blue cheese or ranch" and somehow "yes" tumbles out of your mouth? Love it.

That evolved to answering "occasionally" or "perhaps" or "possibly" when it doesn't fit.

"Hey, what time are you coming over?"
"Occasionally."

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I had a good weekend and not only because we watched Beauty and the Beast on Friday and sang quite loudly in the pretty empty theater. (It looked very nice in 3D, by the way. Better than "The Lion King." Also, I realized that Belle is kind of doofy looking, but then again, so is the human!Beast. Also, how strange is it that some enchantress was just like, "oh look! A castle. Let me knock on the door and screw some prince's life up." And I know it's been said before, but bestiality. Ew. The songs are still great though, even if Mrs. Potts does neglect all her other cup children.Okay. Done now.)

Mostly, it was awesome, because I had today off and any weekend that ends with Monday off is a winner by default.

My day off involved lunch in Miami at Morgans which is delicious. And at which they were also filming a music video? Weird. It was really awkward having our girl chat interrupted by, "ACTION!"

Also today, I won "Most Distinctive Voice" via the 20sb Bootleg Awards. To me this says that you will read all about how my friends and I yell, "I LOVE CHEESE" randomly and think, "yep. Lorraine definitely wrote that."

I'm okay with this.

Hope all of your weekends were splendid. Thank you for the votes. I like all of your faces.

Lorraine Says: The Office LOL

2012-01-13T11:48:00.006-05:00

My typical mid-morning coffee sipping and huddling around my Bahama Breeze candle in my Arctic office is today interrupted by a grown-ass-woman-tantrum.

Oh, I am not proud of this, my dear readers, but the tantrum is bubbling up inside of me, crying and wailing, kicking and screaming, embarrassing itself and everyone who witnesses it.

Thankfully, no one is hear to witness it. Sadly, I just confessed it to the Internet. So it goes.

See, at this moment,

I should've been checking in my luggage and waiting excitedly with Vyelit, Penny and Roxanne at the Fort Lauderdale International Airport. I would've probably been freaking out. I don't do well on planes. I start shaking my hands or bouncing my leg- anything to expend a little bit of the nervous tension coursing through my body. We should've been there, about to meet Sara and Nugs and spend way too much money on just a weekend, but one we would never, ever forget.

Instead, I'm here, sitting on my knees on my rolley chair because that's the best way to get the most spin. And I'm spinning and spinning in between typing while I complain to no one in particular that I want to go to New Orleans*.

It's probably this combination of hyper and restless and slightly disappointed that has my brain working overtime, thinking about everything and nothing at all. I seriously considered the sound "fo!" for like 20 solid minutes.

I was walking back from Starbucks with my co-worker Burt Gordon. As we passed a trash can, he pinched his nose and said, "fo!" It stuck with me as I settled back at my desk. Is that noise a distinctly Hispanic thing? A Caribbean thing? Does anyone else say "fo!" when something smells bad?

I thought of sniffing my little nieces feet and scrunching my face and saying, "fo!" She always giggles, like stinky feet are the most entertaining thing in the world.

I lamented to a friend about not being able to go to NOLA and asked her about "fo!" She promptly asked me WTF that was and who the heck says it. Seriously, anyone? Anyone?

She then left me because she was moving offices at work. She told me that she was moving closer to the rest of her team except one lady she said they purposefully kept far away from everyone else, because she drove everyone nuts. "She's the office LOL," my friend said. "People say things like, "we'll put you in an office with her," and everyone laughs and laughs.

I have an Office LOL where I work too. I previously named her Cooookie, because that is what she insists on calling everyone. She's in her 60's but she wears 4 inch, crazy patterned heels every day. She's loud and likes to give hugs when no one's asked for them. She danced on a table at the company picnic. She was wearing see-through, white pants. We threaten each other around here with, "Stop it or else I'm gonna tell Cooookie you wanted to talk to her." We are all properly chastised by that.

"Do you think every office has an Office LOL?"

"I am suddenly convinced that they do," I replied.

So, how about it? Have you ever, in the past or present, worked with an OffLOL. Please entertain me with your tales so that I may recover from my deep, deep sadness.

I like all of your faces,

*We planned this little trip a few months back, but I backed out after I got the news about Vyelit. She wasn't going on the trip anymore, and going without her felt weird. One of the things she said mid-panic after telling us that she was having a baby was that she would have to sit out all the vacations we'd planned for 2012. In the single sentence she seemed to be mourning her carefree days and the money she once only had to spend on herself.

In that haze of emotion and sisterly solidarity, thinking of the many purchases that precede a baby and how much I wanted to help, I backed out of the upcoming trip. I can't say that I regret the decision. Things have gotten better, though there are still days when I get home to the sound of muffled voices and unmistakable crying. But every day it gets easier.

I'll take a vacation soon.

Lorraine Says: I'm Too Old For This

2012-01-09T23:34:00.007-05:00

"Mom, guess what?"

I was in the room, emptying half the contents of all my wardrobe out onto the bed. I didn't particularly want to get dressed and found fault with every single article I held up against my body.

"What?" she called dutifully from the kitchen.

"Roxanne broke up with her boyfriend."

I heard a sharp intake of breath and short, fast strides approaching me. I smiled a little and waited for the interrogation. "I don't really know what happened," I finally said. "Honestly, I didn't ask many questions." My mother gave me a knowing smile and retreated from the room.

I told this story to Penny, Roxanne and Phoenix over lunch. I was toying with a tray of fries.

"She's always asking about if Rox ever wants to get married," I explained to Phoenix. "I often have to update her on the status of their relationship."

"I don't understand why," Roxanne said, widening her eyes at me, smiling.

Phoenix took a big bite of his wild boar burger and shook his head. "She probably thinks if your friends get married, it'll inspire you to do the same."

We all laugh, but I never told than my real theory: it was less about marriage and boyfriends, and more about how my mother still loved being included in all the girly gossip.

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Seven Short Things About 2012 So Far

1.) South Florida got its first little bout of cold weather last week, by which I mean, it dipped into the 50's. You guys know that I couldn't let that go by without properly complaining. I'm pretty sure my office? Was running the air the entire time. Hate the cold. Hate.

So, I just wanted to let you guys know a few of the ways I dealt with it:

- I was ironing my clothes before putting them on, even if they weren't wrinkled.
- I was blow drying my already dry hair in the morning.
- Really ugly toe socks
- I turned on a candle in my cubicle and huddled around it for warmth.

2.) I've re-fallen in love with candles. I have Yankee Candle's Clean Cotton burning in my room right now and it makes me want to run through hanging laundry- sheets preferably - in slow motion.

3.) The gals and I had our tri-annual lunch date with Phoenix.

"Last time I spoke to you," he said to me shortly after climbing in Penny's car, "you were getting ready to go to a blogging conference." That made me feel like a terrible friend. But it also reminded me of Chicago and the 20sb Summit so that instantly cheered me up.

Roxanne told us about being holed up in her house all week long. listening to emo music and sulking, as that is what one does, I suppose, after a break-up. At one point, while Phoenix in I were standing in line at Starbucks, I asked him how he was. I asked him if he was happy. He shrugged.

"You know how Rox has been holed away at home all week cut off from human contact? That's my life. Under the covers, watching Netflix..."

"Roxanne isn't actually holed up at home, though, you know?"

"Yeeaah, maybe. But I am," he responded.

I grabbed my sugary coffee drink and took a sip. "I'm pretty sure I'm holed up watching a lot of Netflix too," I said finally. "But I'm happy."

Then we talked about what seasons of Star Trek we were watching.

4.) My answer for everything lately has been, "I'm too old for this." I know I'm still 25, but now I'm 2012 25 and that just seems too old for so many things. Is there drama going around? Is there a party somewhere? Are there clubs open? Is your life extra complicated? Have you been the exact same person for the last 10 years? I'M TOO OLD FOR ALL OF THAT.

I might have gotten a little carried away, though, as I settled in on Saturday night with my Kindle in my comfiest pair of pajamas. Thankfully, I have friends who know when to kidnap me. Seriously, they showed up at my house and stood there until I got up and dressed. Best friends ever or best friends ever?

5.) Know what I'm NOT to old for? Beauty and the Beast. 3D. This weekend.

6.) So, I bought a Kindle and I've been reading a crap ton of books lately. Really, I should never be allowed to read books because I become too invested. Stopping mid-book is hard! Who wants to press pause on a movie and then walk away for hours and hours? That's how I feel about books. All this to say that I've been investing a ton of time reading. At least my brain is, uh, getting stronger or something!

7.) Lastly, I just wanted to give a big thank you to the 20sb community. It's Bootleg Award time and I was beyond happy to discover two things:

Childhood Trauma won for Best Group Blog. Everyone knows how much I love that flippin' blog so that was amazing. LttP won for best group blog last year. If I can just keep suckering people into starting blogs with me, maybe I'll be the winner for all eternity? #BigDreams
LttP was nominated for a few other categories, including Most Distinctive Voice, Funniest and Least Likely to be Marked as Read. I'm not even gonna lie about how. freakin'. cool. this is. I'm pretty sure I confessed to wearing ugly toe socks in this post, so to know that anyone thinks I'm funny or worth reading is amazing to me. I feel like I just got invited to sit at the cool kid table. All I can say is, "I brought the zebra cakes, guys. I brought enough for everyone." Also, thank you to everyone who nominated me. Also, also VOTE!

I like all of your faces, as always.

Lorraine Says: To Report Blog Abuse Press One

2012-01-04T14:48:00.003-05:00

I'll give you all a moment to rejoice over the fact that, despite my recent silence, I am not in fact dead! No zebra cakes poisoning or warrant out for my arrest probably thanks to a recent puppy kicking spree! I know. I'm relieved too.

(Note: While writing that, I couldn't actually think of likely reasons I'd be dead and/or arrested. I'm such a good person.)

(Or I have no imagination. Yeah. That one. )

I know it isn't regular posting day either but I got this email from by best friend Penny about 20 minutes ago:

That yellow face is the angry-best-friend face I imagine she sent it with. That's steam coming out of her head. Also, obviously Santa did not give me better drawing skills over the break. Sooorry.

I had a week and a few days off from work for the holiday and it was great. I mean, great in the way that I turned into a giant lush and had flashbacks of when I was unemployed and crazy. Penny asked me one day what productive things I'd managed to accomplish on my vacation time and I said, "I put gas in my car."

She tried to convince me that this was not an actual accomplishment. I probably should've told her that I put pants on for the occasion and everything. In the grand scheme of sleeping, reading, eating and occasionally reading and eating while watching my nieces, I think that was quite the accomplishment. Only comment if you are going to back me up.

At the end of my week, I was looking forward to coming back to work. I get so much done here and I'm-not-just-talking-about-work-work, if you know what I mean. Besides, I'm not built to be at home all the time. I'd totally be one of those people who would fuse to the fibers of their recliner and need to be peeled away in case of fire or other emergency.

I also have a feeling that I could totally be one of the people who never knew they were pregnant. I mean, not even considering the fact that I have the same condition that is common amongst those stories. I just think I'd be all, "oh this? I just thought I was chocolate bloat-y..."

Speaking of pregnancy, two posts back, I mentioned a little bit about a life hurricane that hit my family recently. I wasn't sure if/when I was going to blog about it, but now that more people are finding about about it in real life, it seems weird to keep it off here completely. See what a big part of my life you all are? (Read: please forgive my blog neglect!)

My little sister Vyelit is pregnant. She's 22, so please don't start replaying Teen Mom episodes in your head or anything. I will only further say, however, that the circumstances around the entire ordeal are more tragic and less accidental. If you know anything about my family, how conservative, tight knit, etc we are, you can imagine what a blow this was. Not only the pregnancy, but the entire situation. We also found out about it the week my grandmother died. Yep. Pass me some more chocolate, am I right?

It's been a crazy last few weeks. I've cried more and harder than I ever want to really admit to. It's going to change a lot of, well, basically everything. But, my two nieces are the loves of my life and I have no doubt that little Mandarin Orange will also grow to be a source of joy. And dirty diapers, but I'm not thinking about that part yet.

So, besides a new baby, I'm hoping 2012 bring lots of other amazing stuff. I've heard a couple times that "amazing" was on some list of words that should be banned in 2012. WHAT.
I'm one of those people who is always inspired by the new year. I'm not going to subject you to any resolutions but there is a lot to look forward to next year ranging from the previously mentioned baby to a trip to Paris to things as little-but-still-great as the Hunger Games movie. ::embarrassing::

I hope you all had amazing breaks. I'm sure after I'll post this I'll remember actual things I wanted to say about my holidays. Right now all I can manage is that I had fun. I'm glad they're over. I'm gad they only come once a year.

I missed all of you faces,

Lorraine Says: Tear. Throw.

2011-12-15T12:20:00.009-05:00

You know how people say stuff about the calm before the storm? Know what's even creepier? The calm after the storm. 'Cause then you're running around all, "OMG STORM! STORM!" but it's over and gone. You just have to learn to live with the aftermath. It reminds me of hurricanes, and how leaving your house for the first time after the hurricane has passed is sometimes the scariest part. Uprooted trees are unsettling.

What I'm saying is that things have been super quiet since my last post. I skipped Monday. I apologize.

I'm in Christmas denial. I can't believe that this year is over already because it seems like I was just talking about how Mariah Carey ruined Christmas. Yet, here we are again. I'm not being nearly as bad a Grinch as I was last year. This year, it's more about distraction. And by that I mean that every time I go out Christmas shopping, I come home with more things for myself. HOW.

But really I mean that in the wake of life-hurricanes, things are oddly quiet, if unsettled and sometimes it's hard to remember that 'tis the season. Isn't it weird when you keep remembering something you already remembered? You don't exactly forget; it just isn't always present. Christmas keeps sneaking up on me that way.

I am in love with sitting by my Christmas tree, though.

My family keep asking me what I want from Christmas but it's such a hard thing to answer. It has to be something between a box of zebra cakes and a new car, but most of the stuff in that category I buy myself. That's not a money brag, that's a "I spend way too much money shopping" observation.

Box of zebra cakes it is.

I get 7 paid days off of work for Christmas, because I work for a Catholic institution. Thank you Baby Jesus! The days leading up to this vacation have been some of the slowest of life. Everyone on the Internet is hibernating, too. I have no idea how to entertain myself anymore.

As for Christmas, well, we'll celebrate as we always do: dinner with the family on Christmas Eve. We'll all cram into my house with all the kids and pray for our food and dive into the mountain of it. Afterwards, the younger ones of us will fall into a small food coma in my room. Then my mom will have the coffee made and the smell of it will revive us. We'll spend the next few hours trying to entertain ourselves until midnight, when we officially open the gifts. Yes, we open our gifts at Christmas and one second.

Someone will suggest at 10:30 that we buck tradition and open them then. A few protests will emerge. At 11:00, the suggestion rises again. At 11:30, we're all thinking it. But we wait until midnight, as we always do.

At 11:45, someone will say, "let's sing songs until it's time." Someone will try the 12 days of Christmas, but we'll all get distracted around day 6. Feliz Navidad will be in there, because we can't resist Spanglish. And, of course, Con Cristo es La Navidad and Mi Burrito Sabanero. My family is the tear-throw type of gift unwrappers, meaning we always end up with a mountain of shredded paper.
At least one person will say, "It's a shirt!"

Okay, well maybe I am a little excited for Christmas.

Thanks for all of your rainbows and unicorns on my last post. Things are better. My dad will be home soon. Christmas is around the corner. Does anyone else celebrate on the 24th? Let me know in the comments. Mostly because it'll entertain me some and MY GOD IS IT VACATION YET?

Lorraine Says: I Think I Got a Little Emotion on Your Screen

2011-12-08T21:56:00.005-05:00

I wasn't entirely sure that I would stick to my schedule and post today. It seems that in recent days, I've become more accustomed to blogging when nothing is happening- stretching the small topics and trite subjects of every day life.

Now, that so much has transpired, I'm absolutely overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by how much can be said and by how much I don't want to say it.

This is not me trying to be artistically vague, I swear. That's one of those things I try to avoid, because I know my nosey self hates it when people do it. What good is Facebook/Twitter stalking if all your statuses are vague, huh? I'm kidding, mostly, except for the parts where I'm not really. Don't do that.

It's funny how I look back on my Monday post about being broke and think, "that! Let's go back to that. Let's go back to that day when my biggest gripe was eating Ramen Noodles for lunch. I can deal with that because I secretly love me some Ramen Noodles."

I suppose I find it easier to express myself about things that are only partly serious: spending too much money on a vacation, or my inability to engage in small talk. My mother storing pots in the oven or people who talk too much. I feel downright eloquent while dissecting any or all of these topics. Plus, when in doubt, you can stick an LOL at the end and move about your day.

But we've talked about my complete inability to navigate the deep end of the emotional pool, haven't we? I see this picture clearly in my mind:

On a normal day:
"Hey Lorraine. How are you?"
"Pfft! The vending machine is out of chocolate. I forgot my water bottle at home today. Also, have you noticed the new professor wears way too much cheap cologne? I think I got some of it in my mouth. I told myself I wouldn't have any Starbucks today, and I went anyways and got some because I never listen to myself. God, I want chocolate. Thanks for asking!"

On a day like today, after one of the hardest weeks of ever:
"Hey Lorraine. How are you?"
"I'm okay."

Let's not talk about the serious things or the emotional, okay? It's too hard. Those words are more elusive and there aren't any acronyms to bail you out.

My family was hit hard this week. Part of it is personal, and will remain that way for a time. On top of that personal thing, my grandmother passed away on Tuesday night. My father flew to Dominican Republic for her funeral. Flight prices were so crazy due to the holidays, none of us were able to accompany him.

I only have incomplete thoughts about a grandmother who was often times very far away. But one whose name I carry. One with the long, painted nails and polish in her purse. The burned spot on our counter where she put down a pot of rice. I see her when my father double blinks when he's tired. The way she put a hand over the mouth of her cup while it rested on the table. The way I do it sometimes too. The stories she had of when and where her children were born. The way the stories were always the same, but still don't make any sense. Her clear, green eyes. Green eyes, foggy with age. How I had to go back and edit this all to the past tense.

The hardest part of this week has been my dwelling on two things:

1.) How life goes on. It really doesn't freakin' care if everything is different now. It doesn't care if you really need a nap. You are expected to make small talk and listen to your coworkers talk about country music awards and stringing up Christmas lights. Because it isn't all about you.

2.) How one's reaction to tragedy tends to skew selfish. Not always and maybe not on purpose but we can't help but ask ourselves about what this tragedy means to me. That seems logical, but at the same time, as I think about how something like the death of my grandmother affects me, it feels wrong. Because it isn't all about you.

I feel years older on this side of the week. Maybe I'm just saying that to justify yet another early bedtime.

Welp. This was a lot more depressing than I intended it to be. So. I'm forcing you to only leave chocolate, rainbows, unicorns and happy thoughts in the comments. Please. All this emotion has already made me itchy.

Nudey pictures can be sent directly to my email.

I like all of your faces,

Lorraine Says: Having No Money is Only Part of Being Broke

2011-12-05T09:12:00.004-05:00

I think I have to say that I feel bad about complaining about having no money. Or rather, I would feel bad if I didn't preface it thus: I'm very blessed to be at a job that I love that pays me well. All my bills are paid so no one is gonna repo my stuff, or anything like that.

I'm broke because I spent my money skipping around Disney and buying everything my niece said she wanted. Plus: food.

Preface over.

-----------------------------------

Obviously the main issue with being broke is having no money, but as I've learned over that past week, there are other side effects. I'd talk to you about more exciting things, like what I did this weekend, but that was "nothing." Please see: having no money. So. Let's talk about being broke.

1.) Having no money complicates your social life.

"Hey guys! Any chance we can do something completely free? What? You want me to go with you and watch you drink? Paaaass. I'll be at home with no pants on..."

And that was the story of my weekend.

b.) Having no money makes you hungry.

Just me? Because I swear to you that I never want to eat as much as I do when I have no way to fund it. Maybe it's a mental thing. Maybe it has something to do with eating more homemade sandwiches and leftovers, as opposed to baskets full of fries. It's like I'm impregnated by my financial challenges and the cravings come out of nowhere. It's like my bank account is connected to my stomach and when one is empty, so is the other.

Look, all I know is that I want to eat all of the time.

cat.) Having no money ruins your sleeping patterns.

Yes, I am blaming the fact that I am typing this up at 4am on my empty account. See, if you are basically home all weekend, you sleep a lot. Like maybe you went to bed at 9:00pm at one point. Maybe. Well, that's all well and good until your body is like, "THAT IS ENOUGH SIR." I went to sleep at 11:30pm yesterday and by 2:00am I was up, like I'd reached my sleep limit. My heart was saying yes, but my body was saying no.

Not being able to sleep is really funny. In a totally frustrating I want to poke my brain until it gives into slumber sort of way. I'm laying here, awake, but cripplingly sleepy. I'm yawning every minute. At one point my thoughts stopped making any sense. I'm kind of hungry-- ooh chocolate. I wants money, what's that noise, so tired, gooo toooo sleeeeeeep, my leg itches, am I wearing a bra? chocolate would be nice, pee, lego dinosaur pizza hat. That was about the point that I decided to just open the lap top and blog. Clearly.

I hate all night time noises. Hate them. I hate when cars drive past my house because it's 4am and where the hell are you going?! I hate when my furniture randomly cracks because why? What just happened? I hate the humming sound my fan makes that I only ever notice at 4am when I can't sleep.

I especially hate the stray cat in my neighborhood likes to ho it up outside my window. Seriously. I've never seen this cat, but I've heard her midnight romps on more than one occasion. I'm guessing that they are midnight romps and not that this cat keeps dying outside my window. This is way more than nine lives.

Note: After finding myself contemplating cat sex, I decided that I should indeed close the laptop again and persue sleep. It is now Monday morning and I am in the office and this everything bagel thin is going down.

I'm not sure if I ever fell asleep this morning. There were moments where I felt close to sleep, but then my brain got all happy puppy, "omg! Is this it? Am I sleeping? Is this sleeping?" and thinking about sleep does not sleep make.

Despite what this post might imply, my weekend wasn't bad. Venus and Fetus spent a lot of time with me since they will be leaving to Boston this week for 10 days. I can't remember the last time I didn't see them for a stretch of 10 days. Crazy. There was also an awesome moment where we each pulled out all the singles and change in our purses, pulled them together and bought ever lemon pepper wing we could afford with the collective money.

I know that at some point later today, I'm going to start crying silent, desperate tears of needing a nap. For now, all is relatively well and I'm going to head off the tears with ~~crack~~ Starbucks.

Until next time kids.

(4 more days until payday.)

Lorraine Says: I'm My Favorite Princess

2011-12-01T10:32:00.002-05:00

The magic of Disney World, or I should say the magic I remember Disney World having, is significantly lessened when you step up to the ticket window. The moment I think of entering Magic Kingdom, that memory flashes parking lot, tram, monorail, Magic Kingdom.

Somewhere in that procession, however, there is a ticket window.

"That'll be $147.00 please."

Magic over.

My sisters and I have an unwritten, oft spoken of agreement we like to call the Valverde Sister Code. I'm not sure how long it's existed, but it's basically been forever. It was named, though, when some good friends of ours got a visit from their black-sheep-of-the-family-sister.

Black Sheep cheated on her husband (my cousin) and lied about their first born being his. He forgave her, though, and they moved their family to New Jersey in an attempt to start over. When they got there, she cheated on him again and then left him with their two kids. She later signed custody of those kids over to him. The drama continues, but that's just a little background.

So, anyways, she comes back down to Florida a couple of years ago, and her sisters take her to dinner at Olive Garden.

"Did you hear Black Sheep is back in town?" I asked my sisters as we sat around Pink's house.

"Yeah," Pink replied. "I saw the Olive Garden pictures on Facebook."

"OH NO," Vyelit said, putting up a finger and waving it around. "Let's get this straight: if either of you decide to go ho-crazy, I am NOT taking you to Olive Garden."

"Agreed. I mean, you guys will still be my sisters, and you can come visit and stuff, but definitely no restaurants. Maybe McDonalds."

"I writing this down in the sister code," Pink smiled. "No Olive Garden for you if you go ho-crazy."

"Amen."

Other Valverde Sister Code amendments include, "I will not buy light up shoes for any of my sisters' children," and "we will not take children who can not walk to Disney World."

"I'm taking the girls to Disney World," Pink announced during Sunday dinner two weeks ago.

"WHAT." I looked at my sister trying to decide if she was joking. "But we always said..."

"I know, I know. But the girls get in free and Cheese Cream's parents offered to pay for us so that we can take them. Plus they are renting a house for everyone."

"But we've been waiting to take Gailey! We wanted to go her first time!"

"You can still come," Pink offered. "I'm inviting you."

For those of you thinking that I agreed right away, let me spell out what wasn't explicit in that conversation:

- A four hour drive with a two year old and a four month old baby.

- The ticket window where I have to buy my entrance into Disney. Pfft.

- A weekend in a house full of Cheese Cream's family.

- A big group of people, including three other children, trying to navigate Disney.

Though I was very close to opting out, Vyelit ended up getting the days off, and she said she'd go if I went. And that's the story of how I ended up at Disney with a group of 15 people.

-------------------------------------------------------

We were nearly running as we navigated the empty queue. The sun was setting and the temperature was dipping low. I mean, low for Florida. We all knew this might be the worst idea we had yet, but it was a bad idea that was making us giddy. Grown-ass-adults, giddy.

I giggled as we made it to the front of the line and saw a group of people exiting. They were soaked. There wasn't a chance to repent, though, because a tall, skinny guy with dirty blond hair falling in his eyes was waving us forward.

I lead the way into the huge raft and sat down in what I thought looked like the driest seat. About a minute and a half later, the ride was over, and my entire right side was drenched. I was wearing jeans and they hung heavy on my body. The sun was completely gone now, and the lights of Animal Kingdom were impressive. Beautiful. It was cold.

We exited the ride and met with the rest of our group- the ones who didn't think it would be fun to get soaking wet.

"Tati!" I heard Gailey exclaim as she ran up to me.

"Look," I told her. "Tati got wet."

Gailey held her small hand tentatively up. She considered it for a second, then touched my shirt, and yanked her hand away as if she'd been electrocuted.

"You are wet!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Up? Up?" she asked lifting her arms.

"I can't carry you anymore," I explained. "I'm all wet and it's cold."

She looked at me, put one hand on her waist, and her expression said exactly what I'd been thinking since I got off the ride: that was the worst idea ever.

--------------------------------------------------

So, all in all, I had a good time. I can see that better now, in retrospect, as I sit at my desk on a Thursday morning at not-Disney World. It was difficult traveling with a big group. Everyone wanted to go to different places, yet no one was willing to split up. Everyone had an opinion.

Gailey made me laugh. Suddenly she was "too small to walk," and wanted to be lugged all around the park. She waved to all the characters from afar, but if you asked her if she wanted to get closer, the answer was always no. She was perfectly fine where she was. We asked her who her favorite princess was, and her answer was, "me." She freaked the hell out during the "It's Tough to be a Bug" show at Animal Kingdom. She fell in love with pin trading, and made out like a bandit because people kept giving her stuff for free on account of her being adorable.

I had a lot of complaints, but none of that matters anymore. All I remember on this side of my long weekend is holding Gailey's hand, Ellie-bug cooing as she watched everything flash by, delicious food, Thunder Mountain at night and how Cheese Cream's nephew was squealing like a girl.

I did leave all my money at Disney, though. That probably explains why I've been reading so much this week. Call me after Christmas, everyone.

Lorraine Says: Are You Sleepy Or Do You Always Glitter in the Sun?

2011-11-28T22:42:00.005-05:00

I pulled into my driveway about 20 minutes ago, parked and sat in the car for a while trying to remember how I'd gotten home. I mean, I know I drove, but the entire seven minute drive was lost to me.

I'm dead on my feet. I'd make a reference to zombies or vampires, but today I tweeted about vampires in the sun and my lovely friends tweeted me back about sparkling.

NO NOT SPARKLING. JEEZ. Thank you Stephanie Meyer for making sure that is no longer an acceptable analogy for pain and destruction. Freakin' sparkling. Then again... "sparkling" could be the new term for "in great pain."

"I stubbed my toe and I was sparkling, yo."

You're welcome.

So, you know that thing where you are so sleepy, your head starts to roll? Like where you nap for 1 second? I can't remember driving home, but I do remember yelling at myself to stay awake, as my head fell and twisted. Isn't that one of the worst feelings ever? Your body telling you you need to sleep RIGHT NOW and your mind fighting against it. Plus, no one looks good while sleepy head rolling. No one.

Not that looking good is my main concern. I'm mostly glad that I made it home in one piece and I'm silently hoping that no red lights were ran and that no small, furry animals were maimed.

All of this exhaustion is brought to you courtesy of Mickey Mouse. That's kind of a weird thing to say in retrospect. It could be slightly dirty, or I might be so exhausted I'm imagining sexual innuendo.

What I meant to say was that I spent the weekend with family at Disney World. There are stories to tell but at the moment, I think humanity would be safer if I just fell asleep. I forced myself to write this post first, though, for a few reasons: so you know that I'm not dead, so you can say, "OMG that head rolling thing does suck," so that you can be a little jealous that I was at Disney World and because I was curious what sort of post I would end up with while typing with one eye closed.

My conclusion is that this post is sparkling.

I'll be back when I can keep both eyes open.
Promise.

Lorraine Says: However.

2011-11-17T11:41:00.006-05:00

"The sign said 'no turn on red' so I stopped and the lady behind me just started honking and honking. I was so peesed off. So I got out of my car..."

Laughter filled the lunch room.

"Jefa, you did NOT."

"Oh, yes I did. I got out of my car at the red light. I hate when people honk at me. I yelled, 'do you see the sign? DO YOU SEE IT?'"

Jefa acted the rest of the story out, including the part where she yelled, "and your mom's the bitch!" At five feet tall and almost 60 years old, it was a story you wouldn't expect from her.

It started a lunch time conversation about pet peeves and things we hate. Things I often describe as "irritating my liver."

I was dying to share a lately discovered irritant, but I knew I couldn't. Mostly because the explanation would start with, "You know, on the Internet how..."

Uh, awkward.

Luckily, all of you people live in the Internet! Which means I can talk to you about the Internet with it being less awkward. So. Ahem.

Stuff That Irritates My Liver #5 (ish. I think.)

Repeated consonants.

Look, as a person who says annoying things like "totes" and "LOL JAYKAY," I can't really hate on/judge that brand of Internet language. It's fun. It's funny. It helps convey the perpetually semi-joking nature I believe this blog to have. That's fine.

Every now and then, however, people do it wrong. I'm sorry. This isn't a matter of opinion. I'm right. You're wrong. Such is the case of the repeated consonant.

Let's say you are texting your best friend and they want to get you to see Twilight when it comes out this weekend, but Twilight basically makes you want to brick yourself in the face. You say so. Then your friend pulls out the best friend card and they win. You want to send an "okay" text, but you want them to know that it is an unwilling okay. You write:

ooooooooookaaaaaaaaaay.

Great. Now your friend knows you are dragging it out. Here's what's not acceptable:

okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkay.

WHAT.

No. No. NO. Can someone read that out loud for me? It says "okahkahkahkahkah" etc. That is NOT RIGHT. This has become a problem for me. Facebook statuses, text messages. I can't read a certain blog because the author does this all the time. Seeing it makes me want to light innocent things on fire.

I was thinking about this in preparation for this post and then I got to thinking about things I do that might annoy my readers. I don't have an answer to that, but I'm sure you'll all share with me. I'd insert a winky face here, but maybe some of you hate that.

I will say that I know what bothers me about my own writing: my tendency to want to interrupt myself. In my last post, I had to go back and delete 5-6 mid-sentence "howevers." I also like to add lots of words that mean nothing, like probably, might, somewhat, almost and really. Those words are like sprinkles on your ice cream: they don't really taste like much, but you kind of pour it on your sundae anyways. Oh, and hey, look. I just wrote "kind of" for no reason.

You ever notice anything like this about your own writing? Any Internet words that bother you?

A few random things to finish:

This is weird. I mean, parts of it look okay. Actually it looks a lot better than I imagined it would, but I think that's because they never show Twilight Girl talking. Best marketing decision of life. I approve.

Is anyone else watching Once Upon a Time? The show baffles me. Mostly because it isn't amazing but yet I'm drawn to it. I generally don't like Jennifer Morrison, too, but I don't hate her in this. Maybe it's because all the princes are hot.

Mystery solved.

I've already squee'd all over the Internet about this, but it isn't official until I squee on my own blog about it. So, officially: SQUEE. I'm way too excited for this movie.

I am also, however, very excited about all of your faces. I don't think that makes sense. I just wanted to use "however" again.

See you next time,

Lorraine Says: Pinch It!

2011-11-14T10:32:00.003-05:00

So, in case you hadn't heard, I like sports.

Not to play them or anything because that's sweaty and gross. I do, however, like to watch them. Even sports I don't particularly like, I can appreciate watching live. There is something to be said about the electric nature of a crowd cheering in unison. Something I'm not going to say, though, because that's about as eloquent as I can be on the subject.
When the Olympics roll around? Oh, God. I'm all about them. I would watch Organized Puppy Throwing if it ever became an Olympic Sport. No lie. That's supposed to convince you that I really like big sporting events, not that I'm a horrible human being.

I was a pretty bad baseball fan this past season. In fact, I'm pretty sure I stopped watching all together after Logan Morrison was demoted for over-tweeting. I regret not paying more attention. Now that we are stuck in the worst time of the year (aka between October and April) I'm sports deprived.

Enter: hockey.

Last week, Penny sent me an email that basically said, "hockey game?"

I had only been to one other hockey game before, also thanks to Penny. I was heard complaining that the fighting kept interrupting the game. I also ate all of the cookie I bought to share with Penny. We also lost her car.

Obviously, this was an experience I wanted to repeat. I emailed her back. "Sold."

For those of you who read LttP for a while, you know that Pen and I have the best luck when it comes to who we sit around during games. Who can forget Special Eduardo and ChewbaccaBannana?

Now, I know how hockey works, with the skating back and forth and the scoring and stuff. I don't know any technical terms, any technique and no one can explain to me why they just start fighting.

That all said, Penny and I sat in front of Mr. Motivational Commentator. You know the guy. After the first five minutes, and a few, oh, hundred "you can do it's," Penny and I looked at each other and shook our heads.

"Every time we see a game. Every time," Penny said.

"At least he doesn't have a cowbell?"

We laughed and kept watching the game. Well, I mean, we updated our statuses, Tweeted a little, Penny said she needed a hair cut because her hair covered her boobs completely (which she demonstrated) and then we remembered a game was going on.

And on Mr. Motivational went.

"Hey," Penny said giggling. "It gets funny if you just imagine everything he's saying is perverted!"

We waited in silence for a few seconds until Mr. Motivational started up again.

"Slam him!"

"Keep it away from there!"

"Get it in, get it in!"

On and on it went. I mean, you can judge us for basically being third graders, but it was pretty funny.
My personal favorite thing he said, though, was "pinch it." I'm not sure what the hell that means in terms of hockey, but I was yelling "PINCH IT!" at everything. We were tied for a better part of the game, which was making me really nervous. Penny made fun of me when, after a missed shot, I shouted, "fuckshit!" I'm sorry. It just came out.

Penny was all, "really? "fuck shit." That's a cheer now?" And then she started chanting "fuck! shit! win!"

We did not, however, win.

We did find our car at the end of the game and I did eat a cookie the size of my head. I'd say, over all, we pinched it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Yesterday before bed, the last thing I thought was, "damn. I hope I didn't to do anything this weekend." Because I didn't do it. I didn't do anything, except buy two nail polishes, a dress, some make-up and a skirt. Yep.

Hope you all had lovely weekends,

Lorraine Says: When I Say It's Time to Go

2011-11-07T18:40:00.002-05:00

I often fool myself into believing that if I tell you guys about things I plan on doing, I will hold myself more responsible to them. I've actually planned a whole post where I go through all of my old writing and find all the things I've said "I'll tell you about that later" about and tell you about them. I'm kind of in love with how awful that last sentence is, but that's neither here nor there.

The point is that I'm going to tell you about some stuff I have to eventually tell you about: 1.) the hockey game I saw with Penny b.) the Dealing With Difficult People seminar I attended and cat.) why repeated consonants makes me want to destroy innocent things.

For today, though, a story about the fair.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

We all know that getting older means change. I don't look the same or talk the same or think the same way I did when I was 5 or 15. It's an ever present truth, and one that I think about a lot as a 20-something.

I less often think corporate change; that is, the way growing up has changed my family as a whole. The things that fell by the wayside or get buried or forgotten as we all grew up. They would remain mostly forgotten if it weren't for what the wise Mufasa once called 'the circle of life.' I'm pretty sure this is now like the 8th time I've mentioned the Lion King on this blog, but again, not the point.

The circle of life in this case has less to do with eating antelope and more to do with the fact that my niece is letting us re-visit all these childhood customs. Suddenly, there is always chocolate in the goodie drawer again, Christmas has regained life, and on Saturday, my father insisted on taking Gailey-bird to the local fair, another old tradition.

The fair is across the street from my father's job, and when my sister's and I were young, he would come home and tell us as soon as they started assembling the rides. We went nearly every year, rode the same three or four rides, and considered it one of the best things we did with our father.

On Saturday night, Pink, Vyelit and I went to the fair with him after at least 12 years since our last visit. It was in the same spot as it'd always been and all the lights looked the same too. The big difference, I suppose, was that Pink's husband and two children were in tow. Instead of my sister's and I piling into my father's car, Pink, Vyelit, Cheese Cream, Gailey-Bird, Ellie-Bug, Daddy-O and I squeezed into Cheese Cream's Tahoe, car seats, strollers, baby bags and all.

We said goodbye to my mother, who waved to us from the door. That part remained unchanged. She sent us off with warnings about behavior and safety, always with absolutely no intention of accompanying us.

On the short four or five block drive down to the lot, we tried explaining to Gailey-bird where we were going.

"Where are we going, Gailey?"

"Somewhere special," she lisped, in her two-year old dialect. "A big park!"

"It's called a faaaaair," Pink explained to her. She sat silently mulling over the new information.

My dad chuckled. "I remember bringing the girls. Before we ever left the house, I would always tell them, "when I say it's time to go..."

The memory seemed to boil up in each of us. Pink, Vyelit and I all sing-songed, "it's time to go!" We laughed at the memory we forgot we had.

"And every time," my father finished, "when I said it was time to go, "one more ride daddy! One more please." It never failed."

When we finally found parking and unloaded the children, we were all in high spirits. Gailey-bird was taking in the sight, and proclaiming herself "too little" to ride on the more threatening looking rides. We located a small train for her and my father went off to buy her tickets to ride, like he used to do for us. As he stood in line, Vyelit turned to Cheese and I.

"Do you remember, though, why we used to be so upset when Dad said it was time to go?"

"Yep," I replied quickly. "If we were here an hour, we were lucky. No games, no food, nothing. We each got a certain number of tickets and that was that. No fooling around."

"But imagine," she said thoughtfully. "There were three of us. Think of the money he would have to spend for more than an hour."

"My father was the opposite," Cheese Cream mused. "When he said we were going to the fair, we were going to the fair.We got there as soon as it opened and he wouldn't let us leave until it closed. There were five of us, and we were all daredevils and hungry little bastards. He came prepared to drop at least $200, and he made sure that he milked every cent."

It sounded just like Cheese's father. It fit their family. As it was, my sister's and I were timid, quiet and scaredy cats. A big slide, a Gravitron and a baby-coaster later, we'd probably run out of things to do anyways.

After watching Gailey go around and around (and around) on a train, Cheese Cream decided that we needed to get on something. He passed the kids to grandpa, and we waited in a short line to get on this thing:

You know. It just goes around fast and it makes you fall into the unfortunate person next to you. I sat down in that chair and I felt 10 again. Cheese cream was sitting next to me and as the ride took off, and I tried to keep myself on my side of the chair and off his lap, we both laughed like maniacs.

The ride stopped, the world spun for just a second longer, and I was still laughing, thinking about when the last time I had just laughed was. Thinking about doing silly things.

After a little more walking and talking, it started to rain. We bundled up the kids and decided to head home before it got worse.

"But, my funnel cake!" Cheese Cream remembered as we headed toward the car.

"Want me to go get it while you guys put the girls in the car?" I asked.

"You would get wet for funnel cake?"

"You're kidding right?"

Obviously, I was more than willing to brave a little rain for deep fried and powdered sugar goodness.

And I did.

Some things never change.

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Share your favorite fair memories and traditions below! Any favorite rides or foods? Any places you used to frequent with your family? Share 'em if you got 'em.

Also, thank you to everyone for your well wishes on my bloggiversary! I love all of your faces.

Go Party. It's Your Birthday.

2011-11-02T11:33:00.010-04:00

Oh, come on. We've all done it before, right? That thing where we look in the mirror and decide, "wow. I look nice," but then we still ask others how we look just so we can hear it out loud? I mean, I've never done that, but I'm sure all the rest of you have.

The funny thing is that no one likes that person. No one likes the compliment fisher.

"OMG, I'm so ugly. No, seriously. I'm ugly. This dress is horrible. Ew, I hate me. I hate my face."

Etc.

And then you have to be all, oh, god, no. You're so pretty. How did you get to be the hottest person alive? Your face is my favorite face of all time.

Etc.

It's hard sometimes being a blogger, one that tries to be open and honest, and not coming off as a fisher. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but that's how I feel sometimes when I post about my own blog or my insecurities. I guess I fear people will interpret it as an invitation for validation rather than an attempt at sharing and honesty.

This was just all on my mind because I'm about to tell you how awesome my blog is to me. This is in no way an invitation for validation or anything. Seriously. Don't give me sideways eyes.

Basically, today is the one day that I can stand in front of the figurative mirror and say, "Looking good today, blog. You are amazing," and not feel bad. And not really because I think my blog is amazing, per se, but because it is alive.

Two years ago, I sat down a wrote a post about how I had nothing to say. Some might say that I've been saying nothing this whole time. Today, I'm okay with that, because I've been saying nothing for two years.

Anyways, the point is, yes, we've reached a bloggiversary.

Last year, we celebrated by recounting the birth of LttP, in what is still one of my favorite posts to date. Other favorites include "The Breakfast of Champions," where it is decided no one eats Wheaties and "The One With a Lot of Teeth" where Dora needs to STFU
Here's what's happened from then to now:

- A random outing lead to me picking up a box of zebra cakes. I never really stopped picking them up.

- I vlogged for the first time and went on to record 4 more throughout the year.

- Rox, Penny and I took to meeting almost strangers on a whim. I met Hoooney and he gave us Googley Eyes of Death, Rox and I met Antonio Telemundo the most unavailable boy ever, we met that one guy who hated everything and MikeTeeth, whose favorite thing ever was "full disclosure."

- My laptop was stolen and I wished the culprit's penis fell off. And then I forgave him.

"I apologized when he fell in love with me, but not with who I am. So, I was forced to apologize for my preferences. I apologized because his cigarette smoke made me cough. I apologized because I would never get the tattoo he often joked about. I apologized because I want children during the course of my life, and he was okay with the one he had. I apologized because I still had faith, and he'd lost it all. I apologized because he was up to his ears in emotions, and I was reserved and proceeding with caution. He loved me, or some version of me, intensely. Briefly. And for that I apologized."

I wrote that!

- I spent Christmas here:

- Penny blogged 3 times.

- Roxanne blogged 4 times.

- Penny, Roxanne and I saw Jimmy Eat World, and it smelled like beer battered vagina. I also so Relient K in concert.

- It was decided. Man razors are better:

- Penny and I rode banana bikes up and down the boardwalk on Hollywood Beach.

- We met Harley and Scrubs, who came all the way from Ireland. We ate tons of sweets and had a few drinks with them.

- I went to the dentist for the first time in 10 years.

- That one time I had costochondritis, an injury common to rowers. And me.

- My niece turned two and I survived her party full of Dora. DORA.

- That time Penny and I went to a baseball game, and sat in front of little boy with a cowbell.

- That brief period of time I fell in love with 90's Dean Cain.

- A string of nights downtown where we heard things like, "Cairo in this bitch!" and said things like, "ever feel like you're in a douche sandwich?"

- I helped start my favorite thing on the Internet, Childhood Trauma.

- I got hired at BobU, but had an amazing last few weeks at Paper Folding USA.

- The fourth of July block party we went to and the time Summie found the blog and thought I hated her. :(

- My second niece, Ellie-bug was born.

- I met another fellow blogger, Teacher Girl!

- Penny and I had adventures in Chicago, including but not limited to, seeing a Cubs game, eating pizza with Melbourne on my Mind, walking all around the city with Sweeney, and attending the 20sb summit.

- Somewhere in here, I started working for 20sb!

- Asking Roxanne if she would ever blog again and having her say no. Coming to terms with being a lone blogger.

- Pistene got married to her Navy Man and I ran away from a few boquet tosses.

It all seems to have happened so quickly, but I suppose measuring your year in blog posts will do that to you.

Thank you every one for this past year. For sticking with me, for commenting and laughing with me and at me. For patting me on the back when I needed it. For patting me on the head when I deserved it. I truly love all of your faces.

I'm not very good at commitment or follow through. Except for this.

And, seriously. How do I look?

Kidding,

Lorraine Says: Please Interview Me Right Now

2011-10-31T23:05:00.014-04:00

After a little shuffling, we were all finally seated at a round table somewhere in the middle of the restaurant, slightly chilled from the rain, but happy to be out.

"I'm so hungry," I said picking up the menu.

"I thought you wanted junk food," Fetus reminded me, with an appraising eye.

"I did. But if they don't have a mountain of fries here, I guess I'll just have to make do, right?"

The girls laughed at me as a waiter approached our table.

"Hello ladies," he said easily. "My name is Mark. I'll be your server today."

I lifted my eyes from the menu and looked across the table to Vyelit. She smiled and then scrunched her nose and shrugged. A common name, sure, but having a waiter named Mark on the night I'd proclaimed a celebration of the blog hadn't escaped my noticed.

I looked closer at the waiter. He had blonde hair and light eyes. Nothing like him.
He returned my curious gaze with a smile.

"Well, Mark," I sighed. "I'm going to need a drink menu.

--------------------------------------------------------

For a second on Thursday, I felt like a bad blog mommy.

(Note: If all you Internet people get to say stuff like "furbaby," I get to say blog mommy once, and you don't get to judge.)

See, somewhere in the back of my head, I had present the fact that the blog's anniversary was coming up. I finally thought to check out the exact date on Thursday for the sake of the post I was writing. It was dated November 2. THIS WEEK.

Memory fail.

I knew that I would have to quickly come up with some sort of plan for a celebratory post, but first thing was first, I sent out text messages to Roxanne and Penny.

Lorraine: The blog turns two on Wednesday! I need a drink to celebrate. :)

Roxanne: I'm dying. I'm on antibiotics so I can't drink. My tonsils are touching.

Penny: I don't get paid until next week. Plus, whatever you and Roxanne had, I think I'm catching.

Well. That was anti-climatic.

I was resigned to spending my Friday night at home, patting myself on the back for a job well done, and hoping that my best friends weren't dying from the plague*. Thankfully, however, Venus, Fetus, and Vyelit decided they were really hungry after our workout. This happens a lot. In fact, it's part of the reason I don't like working out. I mean, I didn't want an extra large bucket of french fries, until I started working out.

Anyways, we all went home, showered, dolled up, and went to negate every second of our workout.

I had a drink that night, to my (almost!) two-year accomplishment, in the presence of people who don't even know this corner of the Internet exists.

By the time we left the restaurant, the world was ending in rain, thanks to a hurricane that was somewhere south of us. The rain did not let up much throughout the weekend, making it nearly impossible to ever venture out of the house. This may or may not have resulted in me playing more hidden object games than any respectable person should ever admit to. #may

I spent Saturday night at Pink's house, curled up in a blanket while she cooked dinner for us.

Somehow that night we ended up eating cheesecake and watching Problem Child 2. Oh, and possibly screaming "I DO NOT HAVE RABIES" a lot. Okay. That was just me.

Sunday, we ended up taking a group grocery shopping trip where we learned that we should probably never go grocery shopping together.

"Would you judge me if I bought this and took it work for lunch," Vyelit called to me, holding up a Mickey Mouse shaped tray that held fruits and veggies.

"Yes," I replied firmly.

"You ask that every time you see it," Venus said.

"I keep hoping you'll change your mind and stop being so judgy."

"Nope," I replied again. "Not a chance."

------------------------------------------------------

So, in the middle of the torrential rain and tornado warnings this weekend, I completely forgot about the coolest thing ever, and that was that I was totally interviewed for a blog!

How did this happen, you ask? Well it went a little something like me saying, "OMG PLEASE INTERVIEW ME RIGHT NOW PLEASE! PICK ME! DON'T MAKE ME CRY!" I mean, it was something like that.

Please, please go read the interview and tell me how awesome ~~I am~~ it was.

Interview With Zombie Killah

Go read!

And thanks again to @Zombiezman for letting me fool him into thinking I was cool enough to answer questions. One step closer to blog of note, right?! RIGHT. (Don't ruin my dreams.)

I hope you all had a great weekend, and survived the wind, rain, snow and Halloween parties.

*In case you were wondering, neither Penny nor Roxanne actually died.

Lorraine Says: How To Become Blogger's Blog of Note

2011-10-27T18:46:00.003-04:00

I don't really know. That's kind of obvious because I've never held this "blog of note" position before and I guess if I knew how to become it, I'd already have done that for myself. I probably would've also figured out a way to be a billionty-naire from blogging*. Oh, and have Zebra Cakes be an official sponsor. Oh, and have Ryan Gosling propose.

I will tell you, however, that titling your post "how to become blogger's blog of note" will probably give you a few hits from people wanting to be noted. I note you, dear web searcher. You have been noted.

I also want to note the curious people who have been directed to my blog by the following search terms:

"Cookie Monster shut the fuck up." - Well. I suppose he does talk a lot?

"helga stalks arnold" - YEAH SHE DOES. Did you know you can watch Hey Arnold on Netflix? You're welcome.

"signs you are a douchebag" - Sign #1: You have to Google douchebaggery.

"I'm the awkward new girl at my job." - Oh, girlfriend, you too?

Okay, fine. I'll admit that I've really been loving my job. I'm excited to work and study here and there are people here that I truly, truly like. That's so important to me, given that I hate people.

I additionally have to admit that I'm so exhausted sometimes. Back at Paper Folding USA, my previous job, I sat in a cubicle in the back and people barely noticed I was ever around. If that sounds like I'm complaining, I'm totally not! It was awesome.

Here at this job, I'm constantly surrounded by my team, and holy shit- being social is so tiring. Do you know how many fake laughs that is? Sometimes it feels like I might break down and finally yell, "I DON'T CARE," at someone. I've already banned one lady from ever becoming pregnant again and told another lady that she was insane. I tried to cover both things up with LOLs, but I meant them. I know this makes me seem like a mean, mean person, but I just really suck at being social all the time.

I guess everything in life has it's pros and cons. I mean, take today for example. It was our job's appreciation picnic. It went a little something like this:

We get the day off for a picnic? I love these people.

I just got asked to flex my calf muscles for strangers. I want to poke these people in the eye.

FREE T-SHIRT! I love these people.

This old lady just climbed up on a picnic table and is booty dancing with see through white pants on. Somebody tranquilize her.

I asked my co-worker if there were going to be any team building exercises or trust falls and he said he would drop me. I love these people.

And so on.

It was over by 3pm and I got to come home and sit around. I started writing this post, maybe got distracted by a few episodes of Hey Arnold (Jesus has Helga ALWAYS been this creepy? My God.) and it's already 6:15pm. If I would've been at work, I'm pretty sure the span between 3pm and 5:30pm would've take approximately 11ty hours. Grown-up time sucks.

I went through my follower's list earlier this week. One by one I clicked on links and checked out all of your blogs. It was kind of sad to find dead blogs. No, seriously, I squealed, "oh no!" every time I came across an abandoned blog. I was especially intrigued by the profiles I couldn't see. Blogger is all "some people have chosen not to share their profile" and then I started thinking about all the awesome reasons someone wouldn't share their profile, like if they were a ninja assassin or a zombie using the Internet to e-stalk for brains.

It was strange to spot among my followers, the faces of people who have now become my best friends.There are also people there who used to mean so much to me. And people who have been around for almost as long as the blog. People who have never met me, but probably know me much better than those I see every day.

The Internet is a funny thing, isn't it?

13 more followers until 200.
22 more posts until 300.
6 more days until my 2 year blog anniversary.

Vote for me for Blogger's Blog of Note!**

Have happy weekends, lovers.

*I've already made $3.56 off of Adsense. If I go to a discount nail supply place, that's totally a whole bottle of nail polish for me. Thank you, err'one!

**I don't actually know if there is a vote. I'm just making this up as I go along, people.

Lorraine Says: Car Wash

2011-10-24T16:21:00.005-04:00

I washed my car this weekend. Washing my car is one of those things I do a lot less than I should. Not only because it's nice to keep your things clean, but because it always makes me feel amazing.

Come at me, life. I just washed my car.

Now I'll tell you the real story where I actually watched as Fetus washed my car and then I paid her in lemon pepper wings. I did clean out the inside of my car, though, so I wasn't totally useless. I feel like there is a lot you can tell from a person by what they have in their car.

The tweezers, eyeliner and mascara in my cup holder says, "I should probably wake up earlier in the morning."

The three different pairs of black high heeled shoes I had says, "I really should be better at making up my mind."

The pillow I had back there says... I have no idea. I actually don't know how that pillow got back there. Maybe, "it's always a good time for a nap?"

Roxanne and Penny where in my car pre-cleaning on Saturday morning. I had discovered a few stow-aways in my purse and threw them with the rest of the mess: a small mermaid with unruly hair, a plastic Snow White and a yarn necklace with wooden cutouts hanging from it. Gailey-bird, my niece, had asked me to hold her prized possessions the previous night and I'd forgotten all about them.

"What the heck is this," Penny asked, as she examined the necklace.

"I have no idea. Wooden poodles?" I replied. I took the necklace and hung it from my review mirror.

Penny turned her attention to the plastic Snow White. Most of her parts were static, save her arms that swivelled back and forth.

"Does Snow White have any songs? Hi-ho, hi-ho, right?"

"That's not her! That's the dwarfs."

"Well, I know. I just meant in Snow White the movie. Is she the one who sings the someday my prince will come song?"

"Yes," Roxanne piped up from the back seat.

"Don't all those desperate Disney hos sing that song?"

"PENNY! Jeez! What ever happened to 'romantic'?"

"No," she replied firmly. "They are desperate. With all that 'waiting around for a prince' and stuff."

"Besides, I can assure you that Snow White did not look hot after sleeping for so long. I don't know about you, but if I sleep for too long I get those weird crusties at the side of my mouth," Roxanne said.

"I bet her breath was pretty stale too," I mused. "Plus, it's not like she was bathing or shaving that whole time."

"Someone take this away from me," Penny said tossing the Snow White doll aside. "I can't stop playing with it."

"Maybe," I said after some thought, "the enchantment was something like, "put Snow White in an eternal sleep, but without morning breath or gross crusties because that's just gross?""

"Yeaaaaah. No."

Later that afternoon, as I pulled Snow White off the floor of my car Venus asked me if I was ready.

"Ready for what?" I asked distractedly.

She picked up the frizzy haired mermaid. "To have kids' toys all over your car?"

I smiled and shrugged. No, I'm probably not ready for that. But then again, it will be a long while until I have to be.

The weather in south Florida this past weekend played nice. We stayed sitting outside next to our freshly washed cars for far longer than was needed, listening to music, talking and waiting until the wings where delivered.

"You know why I love you guys," I asked Venus, Fetus and Vyelit. Fetus smiled creepily at me and started patting my shoulder

"Uhhh," I groaned. "Never mind. Fetus freaked me out." The girls all laughed and Fetus apologized.

"Fine. I was gonna say I love you girls because we can all be bored and together and be okay with just being bored and together."

And that essentially sums up my weekend: bored and together, whether it was outside of a convenience store with Rox and Pen eating ice cream or sitting in my room on Sunday night with Venus, Fetus and Vye, all of us painting our nails.

Oh, to end, because the weather was so nice this weekend, my hair was being especially well behaved. I decided to take advantage and snap a few pictures of myself, but soon got distracted with the random pictures hanging out on my phone. I've done this before (here) and so has Roxanne (here). Here are some new random pictures:

Spotted at the Starbucks downstairs.

I'd be heartbroken too, if I lost my cock.

Please tell me that this amuses someone else too.

Well, jeez. I've always wanted to learn that language... sign, picnic table?

I superman'ed this dessert. Whoops.

Lastly, even though I don't celebrate Halloween, and actually kind of hate it, you all should check out the Halloween inspired giveaway over at Childhood Trauma. Trust me, it's worth it. Cookies are involved.

Childhood Trauma Giveaway

I like all of your faces.

You guys are always there for me when I'm bored too.

Lorraine Says: Nobody Said It Was Easy

2011-10-20T21:23:00.014-04:00

"Way to sit somewhere where I can't see you guys," Roxanne jokingly said as she walked up to where Penny and I were. "You're both too short to see behind the booth."

"Well, we can't pick where we sit at a restaurant," Penny replied.

"And we really can't help being short," I concluded, lifting my legs up onto the seat and crossing them, Indian style. The hem of my pants were still damp. I'd spent the entire day with wet pants and shoes and the sun hadn't come out at all. I was glad the day was over.

Or nearly.

We looked through the menus and I eyed a picture of peanut butter pie that clearly had my name all over it.

"Aaaaaaand, I'm going to end up getting the most expensive thing. Naturally," I announced. "It's fine though. I went to the store this morning and it was the first time I swiped my card all week. I had to buy razors."

Penny rolled her eyes, as I knew she would. "This bitch. She's always buying razors."

"You always need razors," Roxanne defended me.

"It's true," I shrugged.

"You two have to be the two hairiest people ever."

This guy disagrees.

I thought about our conversation this morning as I drove the near hour to Miami, where I am beginning my quest to become a naked mole rat. AKA laser hair removal. It hurt a lot, in case you were wondering, and that was just the drive to Miami. *rimshot*

Anyways, I just want to say that shaving your legs sucks. A lot. I know there are girls out there that say that they don't mind it, but I think those are all the girls that were dropped on their heads as babies.What to know some sucky things about shaving your legs? Good:

- Razor burn

- Cutting yourself. One time I was shaving my leg and the home phone rang and it scared the bajeezus out of me, so my hand slipped and I sliced the length of my thigh.

- How your leg hair situation determines what you wear.

- Missing a spot. OMG it annoys me so much when I think I'm rocking with my smooth legs and then I suddenly see a spot of hair that I somehow missed even though it's mysteriously long enough to braid. (Kidding.) (Cough.)

- When you get cold and shiver and can FEEL your hairs growing back. WTF.

Having dinner with the girls was nice. Roxanne is working like crazy to make up some hours she's taking for vacation. She's also been watching the CW and may or may not be pretty in to Hart of Dixie.

Penny has a boyfriend now, whom you all know as Phinsfan. I prefer the nickname Pattycakes for him though. Roxanne goes with P.Rick. Hooray for Penny.

All I had to contribute to the life updates was a lingering, hacking cough and a story of Gailey-bird yelling, "pay attention to me!" at me. No, seriously, how does she know that at 2?

I ordered a pasta plate that tasted like garlic ass. My older cousin is really fond of describing really bad/unwelcome/yucky things as things that are "going to make her get her period." I don't normally approve of this saying, one because it's gross and two because I don't know if it makes sense, but while trying to think of a way to describe the ass-y pasta, that's all that came to mind. So bad.

After dinner, the girls and I headed to see a week night movie. I think one sure way of telling if you are getting old is by your reaction to a nearly empty movie theater.

"Where is everyone?" = you're probably 13.
"YES!" = you're probably old.

I love empty theaters.

We watched a Ryan Gosling movie because it had Ryan Gosling in it. I'm pretty sure it also had a plot and a George Clooney, but I wasn't impressed. I mean, it was a good movie but I still stand by the fact that the best movie I've seen all year was The Lion King. Regardless, I'd do George Clooney too. Roxanne agrees. Penny says he's too old.

I'm not sure if Penny was watching any of the movie anyways because she just kept saying, "ONE PLEASE" and "he needs to bang me right now," every time Ryan was on screen.

Also, there was this commercial-y thing before the movie started and I feel the need to tell you about it. It shows all these cartoon people out in an open field. The Guitar of Many Emotions is strumming in the background and we see a happy family with some pigs and stuff. The Happy Man starts building his farm with more pigs and a storehouse and a tractor and the Guitar plays on. Oh look! Now there are cows on this man's happy field. Suddenly, though, a highway cuts through the field and the cows are put into rows in a concrete building and Willie Nelson starts to sing at us.

Next, there are cartoon pigs on conveyor belts being artificially plumped up. Toxic waste is being dumped into a body of water and somewhere, Captain Planet sheds a tear. Next they squish the pigs up into packaged squares and put them on delivery trucks. At this point in the theater, I'm screaming, "OH NO!! WHAT THE HELL?" at the screen and Willie Nelson is all, "nobody said it was easy," and I want to cry.

Then, we see the farmer from before and he is lonely, man. He doesn't even seem to have a family anymore and it's like snowing, or something, on what land he has left. Son of a bish even has a cloud over his head. Times are tough.

But then! Willie Nelson is all, "I'm going back to the start!" and the farmer is all, "bump this!" He runs out into his field where it is no longer snowing (?) and he's getting stuff done, son. I mean, cows come out of walls and he cranks a lever and suddenly there are pigs and crops. It's really inspiring stuff.

And then, it's a Chipotle commercial.

A CHIPOTLE COMMERCIAL. I was so confused. Seriously, Chipotle? Seriously? This seems like a lot of effort for a Chipotle commercial, right?

Whatever. Check it out for yourself and tell me if I'm the only person upset by this, even though I've ruined the ending for you:

The weather is treating us nice for the next few days, so hopefully I can avoid more wet pants. I hate that.

I do, however, like all of your face.

Lorraine Says: Trifling

2011-10-17T14:59:00.013-04:00

I've seen a few respectable bloggers decide to never blog unless they have something substantial to say.

It seems to me that I've recently adopted the very opposite of this guideline.
If anything in the world is trivial, if there is anything that is without worth, any trifle of a matter, on those things I shall expand.

Some might attribute this to my uncanny observations skills. On this Monday morning, I'm chalking it up to the fact that last night, at 10:02pm, I realized that was the latest I'd been up in over a week.

I've been in this cycle of going to work, dying, resurrecting at 5:30 in order to drive home, getting in bed and passing out, waking up, watching Netflix, passing out, repeat, repeat, repeat. This weekend, you basically just cut out the "work" part and, well, repeat.

Being sick sucks.

But because even when I have nothing to say, I have things to say, I bring you:

Seven Trifling Things I Thought About While I Was Actually Awake AKA How I Spent My Weekend:

1. Cheerio - I love Pride and Prejudice. I read the book all the time when I'm bored at work, and if I'm feeling super bored and lazy, I'll watch every adaptation of it, ever. And then I'll start watching every adaptation of Jane Eyre ever, even that one with Timothy Dalton.

So, this week, whenever I woke up from my feverish sleep and was sweating too profusely to immediately return to slumber, I started watching period dramas. Mansfield Park, some mini-series named North & South and some abomination Lost in Austen.

Finally, I started watching Downton Abbey. What a great show. I highly recommend it to anyone, but especially if you don't think I'm a total nut job after reading these last few paragraphs.

Look at how English we are.

The best part of it all? Everyone in my dreams on Saturday night HAD ENGLISH ACCENTS. Myself included.

Super. Winning.

2. Wipe Out - Isn't it weird that roaches can basically survive a nuclear apocalypse, but if they get turned onto their backs, their entire life is over?

3. Foot Fear - I have two weird fears related to my feet. I have no idea where they come from or why or, you know, why, but these are them: 1.) That one day I will slip my foot into a pair of shoes and there will be a creepy crawly of any form inside and 2.) that while I'm driving something will crawl across my driving foot.

4. Noisy Rain - Am I the only person who doesn't think rain is awesome for sleeping? I mean, I enjoy rainy weather because it's dark and chilled and who wants to be outside anyways? But all that damn noise rain makes when it's falling on windows? Yeah, no. SHHH.

5. All Sleep is Not Created Equal - Here is a list of awesome sleep: after just enough alcohol to not be drunk but more than one drink sleep. After physical activity you enjoyed and then a shower and then sleep sleep. I just slept for five minutes and it felt like a few hours sleep. I had so much fun last night and now I have no where to be so I'm just going to sleep sleep.

Here is a list of really sucky sleep: Fever sleep. Car sleep. Plane sleep. Someone I don't know well is sleeping near me sleep. I better sleep or else I'm going to be so tired later sleep.

6. The Cold Diet - I haven't eaten much this weekend because you can't really enjoy eating as much when you can't breathe. Today I've been eating a little more but everything has tastes that don't belong to it. Like my Starbucks morning bun tasted like pizza.

WTF.

7. All Tuckered Out - I'm so tired still, which is amazing, considering I slept a millionty hours in total. My body hurts, but no longer in an achy fever way but in a "oh man. One cough has got to be worth five crunches at least" sort of way.

Watch out for this two pack.

Yeah. So.

Maybe we should all stick to blogging when we actually have stuff to say.

Hope you all had lovely (awake) weekends,

Lorraine Says: Sang-wee-che.

2011-10-13T10:33:00.002-04:00

Dear Internets,

I'm sick.

It's probably a testament to how sick I feel that all I can think about as I sit here and try to make some funny is how sick I am. I would tell you all about it, about the invisible elephant that feels like it's sitting on my face and the nausea that's having a party in my tummy, but I've been sick before.

The Christmas I spent with wine and Nyquil:

"I can't tell you why specifically, but being asked, "are you mad?" when I'm absolutely not mad makes me SO MAD. Dammit, just looking at that question is making me mad at myself for typing it. It's really closely to related to "Hey, what's wrong with you?" "Nothing." "Are you sure?" "Well, nothing WAS wrong with me but now I"m kind of annoyed at you, thankssomuch.""

The lady who can't tell a story at my job? She keeps asking me if I'm okay. I snapped at her at one point and said, "I TOLD YOU I'M SICK," and that made me feel even worse. Only for like a second, though, because she came back with, "You look sad." I told Burt Gordon and HaaaiiGurl about snapping at her and they spent the rest of the day asking me if I was sad. That may or may not have led to an office rumor that my dog died when I was three but it still hurts sometimes.

The time waking up was hard to do:

Usually, here's how it goes: I realize I'm getting sick, I whine and complain and walk around slouched into a shape I imagine is oddly reminiscent of a question mark. Then I complain some more, turn down medicine because I've accepted the fact that it won't work on me and I should just be left to die. Then I complain.

I barely slept last night because I couldn't breath. THIS IS ME COMPLAINING.

And finally that one time I yelled at Halls:

This is why I should be owner of the world. My cough drops would say stuff like, "Oh wow! You do feel hot," on the outside because that's the stuff I like to hear. Add that to, "you aren't complaining nearly enough," and "just go to sleep," and it's a wonder why I'm not a multi-millionaire.

Still not a multi-millionaire. Lame.

Anyhow, the real point of today's post is to talk about sandwiches. Or, if you are my mom, a "sangwich." Or, or if you're speaking Spanglish it's a "sang-wee-che."

I've been tying to bring lunch to work every day because 1.) I'm spending way too much money on food and b.) eating out is encouraging fat to congregate in places I'd prefer no loitering.

Anyways, I've been eating a lot of sandwiches. Inspired by that, I figured I'd take a little reader survey. Getting to know you through your packaged meat, if you will. So, if you feel up to it, please answer the questions below in the comments:

1. Helman's or Miracle Whip? (Or none of the above?)

2. Ham or Turkey?

3. What color is your cheese?

4. Do you cut diagonally or down the middle?

5. White, wheat or something else?

Also, this is just a question I'm throwing out into the universe, but does ANYONE eat the butt bread that comes in a package of sliced bread? Anyone at all?

Answer my sangwich questions, people. That's all I got for today because I think I can hear my brain sniffling.

Love,
A Sickly Lorraine

Lorraine Says: Two For Flinching

2011-10-10T11:26:00.002-04:00

Apparently, Columbus discovered some stuff and we like to remember him for that with a holiday.

I remember learning about Columbus "discovering America" in elementary school. What sticks out the most in my memory is the amazement of my classmates at my being able to pronounce La Niña, La Pinta and La Santa Maria. Also, drawing said ships crossing the ocean, and stuff. Hooray for public school systems.

Columbus Day is a second rate holiday, anyways.
I only say that because I don't have today off. When I used to work for Velveeta Crap Watches, we used to get chunks of time off for the Jewish holidays. Those quickly became my favorites. The moral of the story is that my favorite holidays are the ones I have off.

Speaking of which, I went Target shopping with Venus, Fetus, Vyelit and Pink yesterday, and was reminded of my post last year about hating October. Of course, I was mostly joking. Maybe I'm feeling sweet on October now because I found Count Chocula cereal on sale and this is the only time of year I ever find his chocolate-y goodness.

I googled count chocula and this is what I found.
Don't hate the copy paster, kay? Especially not for that "then"
*cringe*

When I got to work this morning, I had to turn on all the lights and open all the doors because NO ONE was here. Apparently, everyone took the day off out of their personal time because they really appreciate Columbus. It was really creepy being alone in the office. Not in a "I'm gonna get axe murdered" way but in a "woooah. This is trippy," sort of way.

I started to hum and sing to myself so that there was some noise. In the kitchen, I was dancing awkwardly in front of the toaster as I waited for it to give back my bagel thins. I ran through a list of things to do as I hummed and shuffled my feet and then- POP! I jumped at the toaster sound and felt my heart racing in my chest.

Two for flinching, I thought to myself and smiled. Not because it was particularly witty, but because I'd already decided to name this post "two for flinching."

See, it was raining all weekend. ALL. WEEKEND.

No, seriously: all weekend. It was like that scene in Forest Gump where it rains up and down and sideways. On Friday night, the girls and I decided to grab something to eat after church and on our way back home, the world ended nearly ended in rain.

I've mentioned before that I hate driving in the rain. Blame it on the fact that I once crashed into a wall. Whatever. The point is that I was freaking out big time as it sideways-rain-monsooned and streets flooded and lightening lit up the sky.

Of course, there was that one douche driver that was all, "I'm better than rain and I have places to be! Place more important than safety, duh," who sped past me in the opposite direction and sent a tidal wave of water over my car.

As the water slapped the windshield, I closed my eyes and turned my head away protectively. I flinched.

Then, I felt stupid. Really stupid. I was annoyed with myself for flinching! I was embarrassed, even though the only person who saw me cower, was, uh, Jesus. And I'm pretty sure He wasn't judging.

I'm always fascinated by those little moments, where I do things and yet they seem beyond my control. Like flinching. Like dropping something, picking it up and then dropping it again. Like biting your own tongue.

Mostly, it was a pretty uneventful weekend, between the rain and observing Yom Kipur.

And because I haven't actually updated you on how I am in a while: all is well. I'm quite happy these days, even if I do have sad Monday eyes today, while everyone is getting their Columbus on.

Hope you all had less rain,

Lorraine Says: Storytellin'

2011-10-06T11:50:00.004-04:00

I've given a lot of thought lately to storytelling: what makes a good story, who tells a good story and when it's time to shut up. I've thought a lot about where to draw the lines on this blog, and when a story isn't mine to tell.

I think we're all story tellers in our own way. In conversation, we all craft tales with beginnings, middles and ends. We think about punch lines and climaxes and conflict. We highlight what we think is important and gloss over what we think is not.

There is a lady at my job who wasn't blessed with the gene that tells her when a story is over. I sit across from her, so I have the pleasure of watching as person after person tries to slowly walk away from her desk. Sometimes they shuffle nervously as she babbles on. Sometimes they back away without turning their backs or breaking her gaze. Sometimes they pretend to hear someone calling them. And yet, she doesn't seem to notice. I, on the other hand, suffer for her.

As for me, I have the awesome habit of inserting hypothetical conversation into my real life conversations. In fact, during a break from writing this post, I was chatting with Sara and this happened:

me: That's so cute. I love little kids who I can return after a few days.

Sara: Totally. They're fun to play with but when the crying starts, I hand them over.

me: "Oh shit. Some thing's wrong with her eyes. Take her."

Sara: "They're...... leaking. Ew."

Hypothetical conversations within a conversation, everyone.

Roxanne is a sound effect maker.

Venus is a person imitator. A very, very good one.

La Madre is a dramatic pauser, and also an exact.same.story. repeater.

Fetus is a "get to the point!!!!"-er

Vyelit is a less of a story teller and more of a fact mentioner.

I amazed myself by knowing all of this. I like that I've noticed this and filed it away in my brain. I would also love to know what my friends would say about my storytelling style. I might cry though if the words "awesome" and "amazing" aren't used.

I especially love those moments when I reach the end of a story and realize it wasn't what I imagined it would be. Those usually end with, "... I just thought it was funny."
I had one of those moments last weekend as I was trying to explain my fascination with the Honey Badger.

It's fine, though. Honey Badger don't care.

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Vyelit, Rox, Penny and I went to dinner together last night for the first time since my birthday. I could make an observation about how little I've seen these girls lately, but then again my birthday tab was... a lot of money. Let's say we were recovering.

We went to a place that recently opened up near us, BJ's Brewhouse. With a name like that, you can imagine what our topic of conversation was.... beers! Just kidding. It was bj's. It's not as terrible as you are thinking, though, because it all started with discussion of one of Penny's favorite phrases:

Penny: $10?! Does it come with a BJ???

"Brother": ...is $10 the going rate for a bj?

Penny: You're my brother. I can't talk to you about this. I gotta go.

You can imagine that at that exact moment all of our minds thought the same thing: Hahahahah LOL. Ahem. ... What is the going rate for a bj?

Other highlights:

Vye: I got a compliment today on my complexion.

Lor: I love getting compliments on things I have no control over.

Pen: Me too! "You've got a great nose."

Lor: Oh, this nose? I put it on every day.

Rox: Yeah, I hand picked it. ... ha. Hahahahaha. Hand picked it.

And this:

Oh, and the leftovers I'll be eating for lunch. Economical, yo.

In blogging news, I decided I'd keep up with this whole twice a week thing. I rewarded myself for making that decision by not posting on Monday. Hey, we all have to know when to take a storytellin' break.

Thank you guys for all your comments letting me know you aren't, you know, dead. I was worried for a while.

I would've missed your faces a lot if you all up and died,

Lorraine Says: Snorting Pumpkin

2011-09-29T09:58:00.006-04:00

Apparently people all over the Internet are very excited for autumn.

A little back story: I'm a community moderator over at 20 something bloggers and most of what I do is review and approve applications. We ask that people have at least 3 posts within the last month, so I feel it is my duty to read those 3 posts before approving.

This week alone I've approved about 200 members.

That's a lot of reading.

It's a good way for me to keep meeting new Internet peoples, though, and gathering material and discovering new blogs and helping 20sb, because I love them.

It's also a good way to notice trends around the web and feel inferior to people with prettier blogs or better writing or more followers, etc. Just kidding! Mostly.

The point is that I noticed a few things this week:

So Says The Internet: Autumn is so amazing! Everyone loves autumn! I'm gonna wear a scarf and drink and eat and snort pumpkin!

So Says Lorraine: Today's high is 91. I'll wear a scarf if you all want me to die. But not to be left behind, I did make an awesome outfit collage, just like the rest of the Internet, made especially for fall in south Florida:

So Says the Internet: We're all married to a man in the armed forces.
So Says Lorraine: Is there a "find a Marine husband" bar I'm unaware of?

So Says the Internet: We just love our furbabies! They are like our real kids!
So Says Lorraine: Stop it.

So Says the Internet: We're all in the Peace Corp, teaching English to little Asian children, studying abroad or making our own clothing, jewellery and headbands with giant flowers on them.
So Says Lorraine: NO REALLY STOP IT.

If you like fall, are married to an army man, love your furbaby's furry butt or like knitting hats in your spare time: JAYKAY. Mostly, I'm jealous because my blog is about, uh, nothing.

Speaking of my blog, today is the last post in September and thus the end of my "post twice a week" experiment. Truth is, before this I was averaging about 6-8 posts a month anyways, but they were more scattered as far as posting schedule.

I'm not sure how I feel about the schedule. It certainly keeps me organized and on my game. It keeps my post size down, which if you know anything about me, I need. It chops the work week down. All good things.

However, I have noticed a dramatic drop in comments. This could be because of a few things:

1. This is waaaay too much Lorraine for my readers to handle.
b. I've gotten significantly less entertaining on a schedule.
cat. I talk about people with furbabies and now they hate me.

Sads. Of course option DD.) would be that it's the time of year and people are busying enjoying fall and snorting pumpkin.

So, I have to decide if I want to keep up with this schedule. BOOOO DECISIONS.

In other blog news, I set up ad sense on my blog a little while ago. I'm not supposed to tell you to click on it and this is me definitely not doing that. I did want to point out that I've been closely monitoring the ads because (and I'm probably going to regret writing this because the ad sense WILL KNOW) I've been afraid that it will decide my readers really need to be linked to something awful like STD screenings or hemorrhoid cream.

Apparently, though, it has decided that my readers are actually interested in wedding invitations and base jumping in Miami. You're welcome everyone!

I've made like $0.20 so far. If I ever get that $0.20, I'm gonna put it towards a real nice zebra cake and have myself a party on you guys.

I like your faces,

Lorraine Says: 200 Feet, 80 Pounds and As Big As My Head

2011-09-26T10:04:00.010-04:00

"Look at how far out we are!"

I nodded at Penny as I looked back towards the shore. We were quite near where buoys marked the ocean drop off, but the water was only up to our thighs. We were sitting down in the Atlantic Ocean, amazed by how shallow it was, how clear the water looked, and if I'm honest, by how much sand was, uh, everywhere.

"What are we, like 200 feet from the shore?"

I nodded again.

Truth is, I had no flippin' idea how many feet of water separated us from the shore. I guess you can call this a Late Confession but: I'm the worst at guesstimating any sort of quantitative information.

How tall was he?

How big was it?

AKA, I have no fudgin' clue. This seems like it could possibly be a problem for me, especially, say, if I ever have to describe a man to the police.

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Friday night, Venus, Pistene, Vyelit, Ting Ting and I went to the movie theater to watch The Lion King in 3D. I stand by my opinion that most 3D movies are completely useless, but other than that, it was the most fun I've had watching a movie in a very long time. Figures the movie is 17 years old. (Note: Dammit, I'm old.)

A few things:

- Venus made a big deal about wanting to sing in the the theaters, and I egged her on saying I would sing too. She actually sang. I did not. I mean, maybe a little during Scar's song because I was apparently the only one who loved "Be Prepared."

- There were a lot of adults at the 7:50pm showing I attended so I didn't feel that bad.

- The young men sitting behind us were definitely laughing at us as we clapped and did some equivalent of the Michelle Tanner wiggle at different times throughout the movie.

- About 10 minutes into the movie, in the silent theater, Pistene yells out, "NALA IS HIS SISTER!" We shushed her but she wouldn't drop it until she explained to us all that Mufasa is the only male in the pride and well... uh... INCEST EW.

- It's amazing how many of these things I missed watching this in 1994 (and beyond.) Evey thing seemed funnier.

- Am I supposed to think that Simba is hawt? Because this is strange. He's kind of attractive. For a lion? I'm confused.

- After the movie we went to go eat stuff that is really bad for us. I came up with a theory about everyone having their on version of the Zulu that's sang at the beginning of the Circle of Life. I had the girls each sing their version of it at the table and then analyzed how their personalities were reflected in their song. I'm not even making that up.

Aaaaaah-sabeña-bababisimabo.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Satruday morning, Rox, Penny and I went to the beach. Before we got there, we bought smoothies and bagels and if you haven't tried Einstein's pumpkin muffin, please do your mouth that magical favor.

Rox: What kind of smoothie did you get?

Lor: Grape.

Pen: Me too, a small one.

Lor: Nope, I got one this big.

Pen: Why do you always measure things against your face? It's either as big as your head or your eyes.

Lor: Sigh.

The sun was playing hide a seek, but when it was out, it was really flippin' hot.

It's almost getting to that point where I get to start boasting about our wonderful weather while everyone suffers through an almost eternal winter. We're not quite there yet, because everyone is still excited about autumn and "seasons" and "boots" and "scarves." Meanwhile, it rained all day Sunday, which was going to usher in a "cold front." Yeah that = low of 73, high of 89. -_-

As I mentioned, the water was really shallow and we basically sat in the ocean and talked about wanting to get back into working out, the dumb lifeguard and his "bro" conversation with his, uh, bro, splits and how we can't do them, what rain looks like over the ocean and how amazed I was by it, etc.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday night, Pink, Cheese Cream, Vyelit and I took Gailey-Bird to see Disney on Ice. All the Disney in my weekend was not pre-planned, but you'll get no complaints from me.

The show was at the American Airlines Arena, which is right next to Bayside. We got there super early and decided to grab a bite to eat there. Cheese Cream was carrying Ellie-Bug in one of those front facing baby slings? Whatever those are called. Pink was lugging around the diaper bag, in which she packed a few sweaters and blankets and apparently a baby elephant. That left Vye and I trading off Gailey, who refused to walk.

I know, I know, she's 2 and a half and she can walk perfectly fine, but she was just not having it.

She ran after Vyelit with her cute little arms up in the air saying, "Please, please, por favor tia!"

When Vyelit said no, she ran up to me as said, "You say yes, Tati?" OMGSOCUTE. So I carried her. A lot. According to my piss poor estimation skills and the pain in my lower back, I'd say she weighs about 80 pounds.

The show was pretty cute and Gailey had a blast. At one point when the lights came up on Rafiki standing in the middle of the ice (the crowd went nuts) Gailey tapped on me frantically and asked, "where's the lion?" And then during Mulan, when fake snow fell from the sky, Gailey asked her mother for her sweater. Pink put it on her but Gailey clarified, "zip it up. It's snowing."

Smartest baby ever.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, on Sunday, our family had our weekly dinner at my aunt's time share in Pompano Beach. The beach was their backyard, so even though it was overcast, we ate good food and then watch the kids frolic in the sand and sea.

We're fancy that way.

Here's to hoping for another quick work week. I hope you all had great weekends and that you are much, much better than me at estimations.

Note: Approximately 47 people will comment on this.

Lorraine Says: Spam Ham Will Definitely be in Hell.

2011-09-22T10:43:00.000-04:00

I've been trying to trick my brain into thinking that I'm broke. It's been pretty easy so far, seeing as how I've spent the last weeks answering my phone, "Nope. Can't. I'm broke." and insisting to everyone that I have to get home early, less someone starts charging me for breathing public air.

When my post-vacation/wedding/Starbucks financial woes eased up a bit, I found that the excuses I'd been automatically handing to everyone were still fresh on my tongue.

Friend: Wanna go out to dinner?

Lor: CAN'T. I'm broke!

Inner Lor: ...dude. You just got paid.

Lor: SHHHHHH.

And thus, a cheapskate was born. I'm not expecting that this will last too long, but it's pretty entertaining in the meanwhile to have money in the bank and no new shopping bags in my room. (Note: I just read that back and realized that by entertaining I obviously mean lame.)

Anyhow, this whole "Financial Responsibility" thing I'm trying out has brought along some friends named, "Holy Fat Ass. Just Because It's Chocolate Doesn't Mean You Have to Eat It," "You Can't Spend ALL Your Time on the Internet," and "Pay the Damn Library Back Already." I hate those guys sometimes.

Last night, Venus, Fetus, Vye and I went to the supermarket in our efforts to be less fluffy and less broke. We might have walked into Publix, picked up a basket, and all began singing, in unison, "basket, basket, b-b-b-b-basket." (Link is probably NSFW. It's Youtube, it's funny, but it's kind of gross in a booty-shaking-way.)

I also bought Cup O'Noodles like they were going out of style. I pretty much love Cup O'Noodles. I'm okay admitting this. I'm not sure if it's a bad or embarrassing thing? Or were insta-noodles supposed to die in college? Again, not sure, but I will present you with the following:

Seven Things I Eat When I'm Broke and/or Lazy

(At first I typed "lasy." Isn't that cute? Like a really classy lazy person. If that fits anyone, it would definitely be me. Always keeping it classy.)

1. Noodles - Ramen Noodles gets a shout out here too. In all honesty, it's been ages since I had either those or Cup O'Noodles, but sometime last week I got home to an empty house, an empty fridge, and empty wallet and and empty stomach. And there, in the empty pantry was one last artificially-chicken-y-flavored Cup O'Noodle.

It fed me when I was hungry. And now, I am slightly in love.

(Note: Apparently Cup O'Noodles changed their name to "Cup Noodles" in 1993. Where the fudge have I been?! )

2. Turtle Chex Mix - Maybe this is more lazy than broke? I'm not sure how much they cost. But, they are delicious and entertaining, because I spend some of the time picking out the too-many pretzels that come with it. I used to buy two bags a week at Paper Folding USA and make it last all week for lunch, while I ate in my cubicle and watched old episodes of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman.

That entire paragraph? #winning.

(Note: I went on Target.com to check out if they would tell me the price of Chex Mix, because that's where I used to always buy it from and apparently Target is having a unicorn-magical-sale. A few seconds later, I had a DSLR camera in my basket and was asking PayPal to bill me later. Then I remembered that I was writing a post about being cheap and clicked away.

Sigh.

#losing.)

3. Rice and Scrambled Eggs - This is big at my house. BIG. My mom cooks rice for my dad 4-5 days of the week. His meals are always rice, meat, beans. Sometimes on adventurous days, pasta gets thrown in the mix. Is rice AND pasta a uniquely Hispanic thing?

Anyhow, chances are that on any given day we've got Tupperware full of rice in our fridge. So on days when no meat is to be found or no one wants to cook this meat, you whip out the rice, scramble up and egg, put it together (my sister used to top it off with cheese) and viola. Dinner.

4. Cereal - Any. Time. of. the. day.

5. Cheese Doodles - I don't even feel like a fatty when I'm eating cheese doodles. They are practically made of air and cheese.

6. Chocolate Chip Cookies - I wrote this on the list and immediately remembered a time on this blog when all I would talk about was cookies, but it was really depressing because it was all due to the end of my relationship with Magpie. I made cookies pathetic, guys. I'm sorry for that.

However, I'm pretty sure the brown stuff around the chocolate chips ensure that you get all the nutrition you need.

7. Spam Ham - I actually find Spam Ham a little revolting but I had to put this on my list because it's such a strong memory. My mother used to work night shift at the hospital when I was in primary school (shout out to Kirtsi, haaiii!). So when we got home from school, my mom would get ready for work and take off, at which point my dad would be home from work and would "watch us" for the rest of the night.

On days when mom didn't have time to cook before work, we knew what was coming: rice and spam ham, locrio style. It was the ONE thing my father knew how to make. So we ate it. Often.

Spam Ham will definitely be in hell.

On a final note, I was going to link that last sentence to Childhood Trauma, the post where I explain the Heaven or Hell game but I'd figured I'd come down here and separately remind you that Childhood Trauma is around and awesome. Even if you've never read Sweet Valley High, Nancy Drew, the Babysitter's Club, The Boxcar Children or Goosebumps, you will find something to keep you highly entertained. I mean:

"Wait, so hell is basically eating Cheez-Its in traffic while getting a papsmear from a clown?"

Go read, please!

I can't believe it's almost Friday again. Twice a week posting is really helping trim down the work week.

Tomorrow I'm going to (finally) see the Lion King 3D. The girls and I might've gotten a little excited post-groceries trip and started singing selected Lion King songs in the parking lot. Unless that's totally lame, in which case we didn't do that at all.

Saturday, I'm going with Gailey-bird to see Disney on Ice. If I were spending money, I'd go buy myself a Mickey Mouse t-shirt because it's apparently going to be that kind of weekend.

Too bad I'm broke.

Like all your faces,

Lorraine Says: I'm That Girl

2011-09-19T14:36:00.002-04:00

If I were to make a list of the things in life that pleased me most, it would definitely be a list comprised of simple things. And a lot of chocolate.

Last night, I sat on a couch with Venus, Fetus, a large blanket, glasses of leftover sparkling wine from their mother's wedding, the Emmy's on TV, chips, M&M's and other assorted snacks.

As I carefully unwrapped a zebra cake and took a deep drink out of my glass, Venus said what I had been thinking all along: we should do this more often.

It's a simple pleasure, being infinitely lazy, but we'd earned it.

On Saturday, Venus and Fetus' mother got remarried. Yes, another wedding. It was a perfectly gorgeous day, however, and the outdoor wedding with all the candles and dancing and red velvet cake left me feeling all squishy and happy. Yeah, I know. Disgusting.

It was a small reception. So small, in fact, that when they called the single men to catch the garter there were only three, and all of them were under legal drinking age. When they called the single ladies to catch the bouquet, I tried really hard to be invisible, but in case you were wondering, you can't become invisible just with really hard wanting.

So, up I went, again, and claimed my spot in the way, way back where I was busy dancing to a song that was telling me to get down. I was distracted as Vyelit jumped in the air and swatted down the bouquet, volleyball style. Everyone voted for a re-do, I resumed my dancing and before I knew it, the bouquet had once again sailed through the air and landed at my feet. I looked down and side stepped it as Vylit grudgingly appeared to retrieve it.

"If only her father were here to see that," the MC said. If only.

Look, I'm not shunning love or marriage. But you can quit throwing bouquets at me, life.

I'd made tentative plans with Penny to go see the Lion King 3D after the wedding. The Lion King was actually the first movie I ever saw in theaters. Yes, I cried. I'd say "like a baby," but I was practically one, anyways.

As the wedding wore on and I waited for the people behind me to move their cars and such, it became apparent to me that I wouldn't have the time, energy or will to actually make it to the movie, so I text Penny:

"I'm sorry forever. Don't shred our friend contract."

I didn't really think Penny would end our frienship over a cancelled movie date, but at that point I'd had a revelation about myself: I'm that girl. I'm the girl who has to cancel plans because she didn't realize she wouldn't have enough time. I have some sort of Superman complex that makes me think that I can fit it all in one day. Sure, I'll just run home, shower, eat, get dressed, pick up all of my friends, meet you at the movie, drop everyone off, save the world, eat some dessert, write a post about it and be in bed before 10:30pm.

It seems stupid when I write it down that way, but somehow, in my head, I think I can manage. I always have time to be there.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you take a step back and a sharp breath in and think, "Oh no! I'm that person?"

After I went home and washed off the fancy schmancy make-up and put on some yoga pants, a group of us went to Pink's house to watch the Mayweather fight. I just do not get who gets up in the morning and goes, "hey, I want to get the shit beat out of my face for a living!" Why is that a thing?

I don't like Mayweather, but I'm pretty sure I've wanted to sucker punch a person or two who's hugged me Ortiz style before. Just sayin'.

I hope you all had lovely weekends

Lorraine Says: Punctuated.

2011-09-15T08:00:00.005-04:00

On Labor Day, after Vyelit, Penny and I spent some time at the beach and stuffing our faces with frozen yogurt, we decided to catch a movie. Or rather, Vyelit decided for us, after I hemmed and hawed and Penny "whatever you guys want to do"ed us.

Vyelit yelled at us several times about being the worst decision makers of all time. This isn't news to me. And, I mean, it isn't really that I can't make decisions. I'm pretty sure I could make any decision given enough time, chocolate and a thought cloud or pro/con list of some sort. Don't you judge me.

Anyways, despite knowing this about myself, I downplayed it in front of Vyelit and made all sorts of mature "I CAN TOO MAKE DECISIONS," comments. We bought our movie tickets and headed towards theater 15 when suddenly I was faced with this:

Oh no! Two whole doors!

I wish I were joking. I think that somewhere deep inside, I knew that both doors led into theater 15, but there I was, in front of the two, and I stopped and paused and just couldn't commit to picking a door.

Last night, I realized why decision making isn't my strong suit: I just like to think things over a lot! At that moment, I was trying to decide whether to sleep with the fan on or off.

See fan on means a better night's sleep, because it's nice and cold but I'm comfy under my blankie. (Yes, I am 25, thanks for asking.) BUT, fan on also means having a harder time waking up in the morning because who wants to get up into the cold? Not I.

And so, I contemplated this for longer than anyone should ever contemplate whether or not to flip on a switch.

Another thing I think about too much? Punctuation. I really always want to send out the right message with my punctuation. Observe:

Thanks!
Thanks.

Caught that? Let's take a closer look:

Thanks! - Wow, really, thank you. I appreciate what you did so much that I'm exclaiming my thanks!

Thanks. - I'm saying thank you because it is what one says in these situation. I do not, however, want to thank you.

I've also found that some combination of Internet/hispter culture means that punctuation for me while blogging has become all backwards. Now-a-days, it seems that if I end it with a period, I'm serious. If I end it with an exclamation point, I might be joking. If it's in all caps, I'm definitely joking.

Observe:

I hate you. (I really do.)
I hate you!!! (Hahaha.)
I HATE YOU. (LOL FOREVER)

See?!

(The punctuation on the "see" also suggests that I'm being sarcastic.)

(I'm obviously going to tag this post with "things only I think about.)

My birthday came and went. Thank you everyone for the well wishes and especially to the Nip Clique and Stacey who were all kind enough to send me treats in the mail. That made turning 25 totally okay with me. I did have to have an awkward "...oh just my friends from the Internet" conversation with my mother, but it was totally worth it.

I'm pretty sure that since the rise of FB, though, the day after your birthday might be the most depressing day of the year. I was fielding notifications left and right on Monday! Tuesday, I was probably shaking my laptop and screaming, "HELLO" at my lonely Facebook page.

Kidding! Or, wait, kidding.

But, again, thank you guys. Things to look forward to: getting paid tomorrow and not having approximately $14 to my name. Spending entirely way too much of my payday check on belated birthday presents to myself. Venus and Fetus' mother's wedding on Saturday. Yes, another wedding. Sleeping over their house that night.

I like all of your faces.

(See what I did there?) (I'm going to regret writing this post.)

Lorraine Says: History

2011-09-12T00:05:00.002-04:00

"Full," Penny read on the sign that blocked off the parking garage we were headed to. "Uh... so now where do I park?"

"Pfft," I shrugged. "We park in that same spot every time we come to the beach."

"We can just go down to the Dania pier," Vyelit offered.

"Woah," Penny smiled. "I haven't been down there in so long. Roxanne and I used to go all the time in high school."

We drove the short distance towards Dania Beach as Penny marveled at how things had changed.

"Yeah, last time I was here, there was no playground. But that was when I was like 14 or 15."

"Ten years ago," I offered disbelievingly.

Ten years ago.

When exactly did I get old enough to have things that seemed like yesterday be ten years ago?

Ten years ago, I was dropped off in front of Horsey High, wearing the outfit I'd poured over for a couple of weeks. I remember it clearly, in all its terrible glory:

a pair of the trendy golf pants that were apparently a thing back then and a super tight red shirt I could barely breathe in.

15. I had my birthday before most people in my class as a September baby and this year I was turning 15. It was so important on September 10th, 2001, my quince. On September 12, 2001, there was very little I could think of other than the footage I'd spent the night watching, all my family lying on my parent's king sized bed, my mother whispering prayers in Spanish every so often.

Señor, ten piedad.

I was in Mr. Drew's World History class when I'd heard the news on Tuesday, and it was in that class the next day that he impressed on us the meaning of what we were living. "These are the things that will be in the history books your children read," he said gravely. "This is your history."

He made us write letters to ourselves to be opened 10 years later, on September 11, 2011. I've come across this letter countless times in the last 10 years, while cleaning or purging or moving or rearranging. Today, when I remembered it, I opened up the accordian folder that holds my "Terrific Kid" certificates, my class pictures, the bad poetry I wrote in middle school and a few copies of an old school play.

I found it, a little piece of my history, in handwriting that is a more controlled than the one I currently have. More practiced, I guess. I don't have much occasion to write on paper anymore.

"I don't really know where I'll be or what I'll be doing..." I start that letter.

Dear 2001 Lorraine: You'll be in your childhood bedroom, pantsless and blogging. Don't worry, though. You're happy. You're loved. You've had success. You're working on your failures. You've loved. You've lost love. Somehow that made you stronger. You lost your faith, once. Somehow that made it stronger. You found friends worth keeping around for a lifetime. They helped you celebrate your 25th, your 10 years later, by toasting to tennis balls on your walker, by passing all the cherries from their drinks to you, by eating fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chicken covered in peanut butter Captain Crunch. It's all pieces of your history. Maybe not worthy of history books, but still.

Lorraine Says: I Noticed You Noticing Me

2011-09-08T08:00:00.000-04:00

There are times in life when you look at yourself square in the eyes and think, "I'm feeling ______ way because of ______ reasons."

Right now, I'm at a time in my life when I look at myself square in the eyes and think, "....uh...der." This is usually followed by drool.

And, I mean, I guess I could delve into my own brain and try and figure out what has me all "der" (which is totes a scientific term) but I think I'd rather admit to myself that sometimes, I'm just not that deep. So, with no major revelations and no grand adventures to speak of, I bring you a few jumbled observations:

Penny, Vye and I made it out to breakfast, the beach and a movie on Monday. It was a perfect beach day, and I hear that all of sudden, some of you parts of the country are chilly? I've seen about a thousandy posts about people being oh-so excited for fall to be here so they can wear boots and fur or something. I don't know. I think I'll take a few more days like this:

My sister and I were play fighting last week. Why yes, we are 22 and (almost!) 25 respectively, but that's not the point of the story. See, I was joking around, being kind of a douche to her so she lifted her leg to pretend to kick me but actually kicked me. Then she was all OMG-so-shocked because she didn't expect to reach me and blah blah blah, I punched her. She hit me. I punched her. She sumo wrestled me down to the floor. Etc.

After a second, shit got serious and we were UFC style wrapping our legs around each other and then shit got dirty and I might've doled out a monster wedgie. Somewhere along the lines, she dragged me along the carpet and I got a huge rug burn on my elbow.

We both felt pretty stupid afterwards. Oh, and I felt really old and out of breath. And fat and out of shape. But that's not the point either. The point is that play fighting doesn't really exist. At least not for very long. Someone always goes a step too far or gets a little too close to the truth. You start off calling each other butt lickers and end talking about each other's mom.

Or you end with a gross scab on your elbow and then when you get to work on Monday morning, you tell everyone it's thanks to rug burn. They look at you funny and it takes you a full minute to realize why. Then they think it's funny to call you "scabby."

Have you ever noticed that sometimes you notice something and then all of a sudden it's constantly in your face? Like if you meet someone who drives a certain car, suddenly you see the car everywhere and you wonder if it's always been around. Or if you write a post about awkward "fucks" suddenly you'll note them all the time. Or if you have a boo-boo on your elbow, suddenly you realize how much you use a stinkin' elbow for, oh you know, everything.

I told the play-fighting story to Roxanne and she was absolutely horrified. She is also an only child. Penny, who has a brother, just sort of shrugged her shoulders and told me that the other day, she walked into her brother's room, punched him as hard as she could, and then hauled ass out of there, all for no good reason. Ah, siblings.

It's my birthday again soon. Last year around my birthday I wrote a ton of posts about it (like 3). I wrote about how how dumb the happy birthday song is, and how there was always some moment before my bday that I actually felt older. I wrote about past birthdays and my birthday adventure.

This year? Not really a lot there. Mostly what I'm asking myself before the big event is: WHY THE HELL AM I SO BROKE?

And then I remember everything I ate in Chicago and it starts to make sense. Then I look over to the $220 purple brisdesmaids dress that is in a crumpled heap on top of my desk and it all gets clear again.

Anyone need a dress?

Almost every little kid I've known finds birthdays fascinating. When Gailey-bird realized that it was her second birthday, soon followed by her mother's birthday, she was amazed. She wished everyone, everywhere a happy birthday all the time, until finally Pink had to explain. "It's not her birthday today, mamita." Clearly confused, but still feeling positive, Gailey took to wishing people a happy day.

Happy day everyone.

Lorraine Says: Unpacking

2011-09-05T08:00:00.005-04:00

After coming back home from Chicago, my bags sat in the middle of my room, still packed for almost a week. Taunting me. Judging me. Some of that procrastination had to do with being back to work right away. Most of it, however, was unadulterated laziness. Exhaustion.

I did, however, finally manage to get my self fully unpacked and settled. And just like that, Saturday morning, I was up at 8am, stuffing my bags again, this time with everything I imagined I might need in preparation for a wedding. Safety pins. Someone might tear something. Make-up. All of it. Tooth brush. Don't want bad breath to make it down the aisle first. Zebra cakes. A girl's got to eat.

If you think I'm joking about the zebra cakes, you don't know me at all.

I'm sitting now in bed, looking at the different bags that still have my hastily shoved away belongings, feeling a little bit fragmented as I take in the sight. For the past couple of weeks, I've had the feeling, that I don't know where anything is. I have that worry that maybe I've left something behind somewhere. But still, unpacking is overwhelming. It's the pain of packing with none of the promise of adventure.

Anyways, I'm tired. The wedding was surreal. Maybe it was because my little cousin Pistene, Sailor Mercury, the one who never liked to wear dresses or comb her hair, the one who made it her little-kid-life-mission to teach us other cousins games like football and poker, got married. Maybe it was because I was so exhausted I was half asleep through some of it. Probably both.

I'm trying to think of a way to incorporate a nap time into my hypothetical future wedding. Probably sometime after the cocktail hour and before the bouquet toss.

I freakin' hate the bouquet toss. I'm pretty much not a fan of anything that starts with, "alright, all you single ladies..." I'm probably missing the whole traditional point, but I have yet to witness a bouquet toss that isn't coated in a thin layer of awkward desperation.

My Daddy-o was actually the MC for this wedding, and of course he took the opportunity to call my little sister and me out by name, and make some awesome, "please dear sweet Jesus let them get married soon," jokes. And of course, my awesome cousin, threw the bouquet directly to the corner where I was half hiding behind the cake table. The stupid thing landed at my feet, but luckily I sidestepped it to the great amusement of all in attendance.

Despite that moment, I was thankfully spared from too much, "when are you..." and "still single, huh?"s. I did get a number of sympathetic looks, though, but I took a deep sip of wine for each one.

It's funny to me, that as we get older, this gap of 3 years between the family closest to me in age keeps getting smaller. When I was 7 and Pistene and Vye were 4, the difference was noticeable in every way. When they were 12 and I was 15, the difference to me was insurmountable. Now that they are 22 and I'm (nearly. one week left.) 25, the difference is as small as it's ever been. I'm pretty sure when we're 97 and 100, we'll barely notice at all.

I really did have a good time though. And because baby Jesus loves me, it's a much needed day off today.

This is a pretty short post. Maybe this whole, "I'm going to regularly post twice a week thing," will mean I'll stop leaving a millionty things for one post which will then result in me writing a millionty words! Maybe I'm just tired. Have I said that I'm tired? Too tired to unpack. My head. SEE WHAT I DID THERE? A metaphor, ya'll. Unpacking is like blogging. You're welcome.

Okay. I'm done now.

Please don't leave any, "don't let people pressure you about marriage because it'll happen when you least expect it, blah, blah, blah," comments because every time you do, I'll be forced to find a puppy and kick it. Don't make me kick puppies guys. Don't make me.

"When you least expect it" has to be up there with, "just give it time," on the list of worst advice ever. We're all guilty. We all deserve to be punched in the teeth.

Otherwise, comment away! On weddings, bouquet tosses, or packing or unpacking or how much you like my face.

Because I like all of yours.

Lorraine Says: They Will Still Kill You

2011-09-01T08:00:00.008-04:00

"Bueno," my mother said, wrapping up our brief conversation. "Just be careful."

"I am! But it's really nice here. People are very nice and helpful."

"Well, that's how they trick you."

"Mom, I'm not saying that I'm letting people in my room," I clarified, "just that people are more polite here."

"Si pero, they will still kill you."

"Okay, mom," I sighed. "I'll be careful."

After I'd hung up the phone, I looked over at Penny who was applying make-up on the other end of the bed. "What did your mom say," she asked.

"To be careful," I replied as Penny shot me a knowing look.

Everything that I know about being afraid of things, I inherited from my mother. Scared of planes, scared of water, scared of driving on highways and falling down staircases. Scared of venturing out of a very narrow comfort zone.

Perhaps it's needless to say that my family has never been big on traveling. The few trips we took when I was kid were always to do one of two things: visit family or visit Disney World with family. My recent trip to Chicago... for a writing conference... just because? That was very beyond their scope. I got asked "why," plenty of times before my plane took off.

The little opportunity I had growing up, coupled with my carried over anxieties and my mother's worry that people can and will kill me have meant that I've seen very little of the world. The 1000 miles I traveled to see Chciago was one part excitement and one part trepidation. You'll have to ask Penny for a count of how many times I said, "I'm kind of freakin' out." (Note: a lot.)

That was all a preface, so that you know that the following observations will probably seem like the observations of a seven year. A seven year old or a very scaredy-cat-guarded-overly-panicked-and-excited-Lorraine. Forgive me.

Seven Things I Observed While In a Place Other Than South Florida

I'm getting ready to make grand, sweeping generalizations. These are all based on the previously mentioned limited experience. Kay?

1. People in South Florida are mean - This is actually a complaint I've heard previously, mostly from native Floridians who venture else where. It was such a shock to be in Chicago and come across so many people who were just nice. It made me realize how mean I was as I kept asking Sweeney WHY people kept talking to me. Just striking up casual, stranger to stranger conversation.

Is that a thing that happens? Nice-ness? I don't understand.

2. Florida is practically the Day-glo state - I suppose it doesn't help that I've only really ventured into New England/the mid-west but south Florida is just so BRIGHT compared to things in the north. Even on a sunny (and beautiful, I might add) day in Chicago, it really doesn't compare to the blue skies you find here. Plus buildings in general are darker up there with all their brick and stuff. Pfft.

3. OMG PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION - Miami, which is the major city I'm nearest, is pretty much a fake city. It really lacks the culture and personality of other major cities. You want clubs and sea-shell-selling-tourist-shops, though? We got you. Public transport in Miami and in my city are big jokes. If you don't drive here, eff your elle.

In the middle of our trip, Penny received a phone call from Phinsfan. He presumably asked her about the trip and she gushed, "we took a taxi and rode the train! It was amazing!"

Forget that we took a taxi into downtown Chicago or rode the train to Wrigley Field, the transportation in and of itself was so out of the ordinary for these two Florida girls.

4. Walking? Que? - Just piggy-backing on #3, we also did a lot of walking. Penny was worse for the wear and by the last day there, I was complaining about all these muscle-things I never knew I had being all achy and shit. Plus, we did not have any shoes that were great for walking. We both basically packed flip flops and going out shoes. Neither of those = walking shoes.

I was pretty taken, though, with this whole "walking" thing. I kept telling Penny that we should keep it up and walk at home! The day after I got back to Florida, I drove my car across the street to Publix.

Ooops.

5. Beach chic is really not a thing? - The majority personality and style of Chicago, specifically the place along Michigan Ave where we were staying, is so hipster. Penny and I sat in a Starbucks our first morning there and just marveled at the prevalent sense of style.

The street-walker-lite wear of south Florida was definitely not present. Neither was beach chic. And when we went out at night, I was the person wearing the shortest skirt. How did that happen?

6. Old. - Things in Chicago are old! Actually, I'm pretty sure I said, out loud, a few times, "it's all so OLD." It just feels like there isn't as much old stuff down here. I mean, besides the old people. Things are constantly changing and under construction here. It lacks a real sense of history.

Chicago.

Miami.

7. Real life is stupid - I came away from Chicago feeling like, "yay! I did it! No one killed me!" And, also, pretty in love with what I saw of the city. I fought with the thought that kept creeping into my head... "You could live here."

Even though Florida feels like home, I haven't felt at home in a very long time. I'm not entirely comfortable where I am and it was strange finding that there were other places, out in this big world, that could possibly feel like home. That had that potential.

I kept reminding myself, though, that this city had "weather," like snow, which is something I couldn't handle.

I kept reminding myself that I was on vacation. That if I were catching the train to work, and not to a baseball game, it would probably lose it's appeal.

I kept reminding myself that even all the people I wouldn't mind leaving behind now, I would probably grow to miss.

So, I came back home, and settled back into my real life routine. I climbed in my car, and drove to work in my sun dress and sandals. I enjoyed our record breaking heat and blindingly blue skies. I didn't talk to one stranger.

I started planning my next vacation.

Lorraine Says: Never O'Clock

2011-08-29T08:00:00.111-04:00

This is part two of my Chicago recap!

Part one, all about the 20sb summit, is here.

Part three is coming soon.

----------------------------------------------------

As the Fort Lauderdale airport came into view, I melted into a puddle of nerves and my thoughts were rattling inside my head, pulling in all directions.

The last time I was on a plane, I was unemployed, the skinniest I've even been in my adult life and stressing over how much I liked Phoenix, even though he was a giant flake. I was "waiting for marriage." I'd never been drunk, ever. I wanted nothing more than to run away from my own life.

I let out a small, unintelligible whine as Penny explained to her brother that airplanes freak me out.

"Oh. Well, have you ever seen "Final Destination?" Penny's brother asked jokingly.

"SHUT UP," we both shouted in unison.

"You're such a brother," Penny complained.

I hate flying. It just combines a lot of things that aren't to my taste: people, small spaces, heights, gaining and losing altitude, ugly babies and that feeling in the pit of my stomach that screams, "God didn't gives us wings for a reason."

Add to that the additional stress of my luggage being about, oh, ten pounds too heavy. And that was my attempt at packing lightly. I tried really, really hard guys. I mean, I only took two boxes of zebra cakes and three bottles of nail polish. #sacrifice.

Fear of flying aside, we landed safely in Chicago and after a terrible and long cab ride, made it to the Congress Plaza Hotel. We put our stuff down quickly before we went out again to meet Sweeney for dinner.

It's funny. I feel like I know Sweeney. Not only in a, "I read your blog, you read mine" sort of way, but Sweeney is one of the people I've gotten closest to just all around. Meeting her was definitely one of the major highlights of my trip. There were a few awkward silences at that first dinner, but we were very meta about it, and spent a good deal of time just talking about how awkward we were. We also took sips of alcohol through them, so that helped too.

After dinner, Sweens took us to Millennium Park to see the fountains and the Bean. We also thought it'd be awesome to walk across the fountain and holy cold water and squishy feet, Batman. After a while, Penny had to pee, so we headed back to our hotel and sat around for a while talking about the fact that the hotel was said to be haunted. Sweeney had a lot of fun pointing out all the places she thought the ghost was most likely to enter our room through and even reminded us about things coming out of the TV in "The Ring." Thanks again for that Sweeney!

The next morning, Penny and I got ready to see the Cubs take on the Cardinals. Wrigley Field was amazing. People! Actually watching baseball! And supporting their team even though they kind of suck! I wish I could've packed some of that baseball enthusiasm up and brought it back to Florida with me.

We were sitting in front of the best (and by best I mean worst) pair of old ladies ever. As soon as we sat down, we could tell that they were just suspiciously handsy with each other, so we immediately decided they were lesbians but just didn't know it yet. We were betting on a kiss by the end of the game.

Our old couple was terribly annoying. One of them, the one with short brunette hair who was wearing a skort, had a camera and she was taking pictures and video of EVERYTHING. Mostly, though, she wanted to get a picture of her blonde, frizzy haired companion. Well if you've ever sat in some of those stadium seats, you know that it's quite difficult to get a good picture of someone sitting next to because you don't really have enough room to not be in their grill.

This didn't stop Skort Lesbian! She started leaning back until she was basically in the lap of the unsuspecting older man next to her. Not once, not twice, but several times. He was giving her the most AMAZING "I'm gonna punch a bitch," look of all time. I was sitting behind him saying, "do it! DO IT. I got 'cho back. Hit her! Hit her!" But he didn't listen to me and didn't hit her.

The old lady lesbians didn't kiss either, but it wasn't for lack of effort on the skort lady's end. Also, frizzy headed blonde lady was holding her #1 finger backwards the entire time. That doesn't seem like it should be a big plot point but we got hours of giggles out of it. Maybe we're easily amused.

I had a Chicago dog. It was delicious.
The Cubs won in extra innings. Equally delicious.

That night was the 20sb opening party. Penny, Sweeney and I walked into the party and all immediately did an awkward frozen smile, look at each other and wonder WTF we were supposed to do thing. Being in a room full of people I know? I can handle that. Being in a room full of people I don't know? Meh. Fine. I can handle that.

This was a horse of another color: a room full of people I kind of knew. I felt like I should've been able to recognize some of these other bloggers, but 1.) it was dark b.) it required some very awkward staring at faces or name-tags and cat.) I would later find out that I actually only knew of a hand full of bloggers in attendance so I was looking around in vain.

Anyways, Sweeney, Pen and I did the only thing we could think of and that was, head to the bar.

While standing around looking lost, Kirsti from Melbourne on my Mind spotted us. This was pretty exciting because I love her and she came all the way from Australia and. AND. She gifted me with a pack of Tim Tams. SHE BROUGHT ME CHOCOLATE.

Two beers into the night, I decided that I couldn't wait to open them and started eating them (and sharing) (a little). Four beers into the night, the pack was completely gone. It wouldn't be until 4 o'clock that morning that my tummy would be all, "beer and tim tams?! WTF."

It was also at this party that I met Sami, who works with Sweeney and is also adorable, funny and super popular. Yeah, I know. Meanwhile I'm double fisting beer and chocolate.

As the party ended, Penny and K decided they were hungry so we went to some nearby bar. There wasn't a very long line, but while we were standing outside to get into the bar, the bouncer started chatting with us. He was eating a Mrs. Fields ice-cream sandwich.

Creepy Bouncer: Oh, I can't finish this. It's too much. Have some.

Lor: UH NO.

See, I've clearly heard about "stranger danger" and know that you don't take candy from strangers. But he insisted.

Creepy Bouncer: If you don't help me with this then I'm not letting you in.

Lor: UGH. FINE.

So I took candy from a stranger. He tried feeding it to me, but LOL. No. He broke off a piece for Penny and tried to feed it to her, but not. He broke off a piece for K and tried feeding it to her, but nope.

Creepy Bouncer: NO. One of you has to let me feed you!

Lor, K, Pen: HER! HER! SHE'LL DO IT.

And that's the story of how Sweeney got hand fed an ice cream sandwich by a stranger.

After all that, we didn't even stay at that bar long because it was too full so we walked around the corner to a pizza place. Sami was looking for us to take us to a second location, but Penny was tired and her feet were rebelling against all the "walking."

As we were getting ready to part ways, I wondered out loud what time it was. Like this:

Lor: What time is it, anyways?

Creepy Random Man: It's 10:00.

Lor: Aw, thanks so much!

Creepy Random Man: What time do the panties come off?

Lor and Sweeney: *silent horror*

K: Snort.

Penny: NEVER O'CLOCK.

Saturday morning, I left Penny sleeping (with the ghosts) because I had to be up at stupid AM for bloggy school. I already told you all about loving bloggy school. I didn't tell you about that one time one of the organizers mentioned lunch and Sweeney and I cheered. Loudly. There might've been a little fist pumping action on my end as well.
That night, we met up with fellow Nip-cliquers Lily and Shelly (and Shelly's husband) for dinner at Emilio's Tapas. Three words: dates in bacon. DATES IN BACON, Y'ALL. Do yourself that favor sometime. Food-gasm.

Lily is the queen of one liners. Shelly and Nick are the epitome of an adorable married couple. I mean, you just can't replicate the loving eye roll Nick gave when Shelly pulled out pictures of her cats. And, I still giggle when I think about Shelly saying, "I'm gonna hold your hand Nick! And I might kiss you, even though I don't usually do that in public!"

After dinner, we went to the location of the unofficial 20sb after-party. We were laughing the whole time, whether it was about Shelly's terrible driving directions, or the fact that none of those bishes knew that the Mississippi River makes an elf.

anyone? anyone?

We ended the night at karaoke. My first time doing karaoke! Sami took us to this place that was... interesting, to say the least. I mean, it had a back, private karaoke room and THE BEST collection of small movies that played behind the lyrics.

Shelly: I LOVE NEIL DIAMOND.

*pineapple with sunglasses slides across the screen*

Nick: What. the. fuck.

Lorraine: That was beautiful! I'm pretty sure dogs and babies everywhere heard that too and agree.

Lily: And dog babies too?

Penny: I don't think so.

Lily: That's so gross! Dog babies, ewwww!! What is that?!

Penny. ... you mean puppies?

Lily: Oh.

Sunday morning we were up at stupid AM again for more bloggy school, after which, K, Penny and I went exploring. We ate Chicago style pizza and shared the best cookie/ice cream/chocolate/sin/calories thing ever made.

We also bought popcorn from Garrett's, which was also a party in my mouth.

Monday morning, K, Pen and I went to the Field Museum and took a million pictures of dinosaur bones.

We also did this dumb Underground exhibit that didn't actually have any live animals, but just giant replicas of different insects.

Penny: Lor, go over there and take a picture next to that giant worm!

Lor: OKAY.

So I innocently bounced over to the giant worm, touched it with one finger and put on my best, "ewwww, that's nasty!" face. Y'know. Hamming it up for the pic Penny snapped.

Penny: LOLOL. *dies*

Lor: What?

Pen: Hahahahaha! It looks... it looks...

Lor: WHAT?

Penny: It looks like you're touching a giant purple penis!! I'M GONNA PUT IT ON FACEBOOK.

And she threatened me with the penis picture the entire rest of our time there. I love my best friends.

Also, we may have had way too much fun with the Dinosaur names and descriptions.

FAIL-o-saurus.

Rape-to-sauraus

We also had a lot of fun with that thing K speaks that she calls, "English."

K: Oh no! That bubbler is running constantly.

Lor: Uh, you mean the water fountain? Bubbler! HA.

K: Well... we called it a bubbler in primary school.

Penny: You mean elementary school?

K: PRIMARY. It goes from grade one to...

Lor: You mean first grade?

And so on.

After the Field Museum we went to Navy Pier as our last stop before Penny and I made our way back home. We stopped to eat almost as soon as we got there. I ordered some loaded fry type things and a chicken sandwich but I was also lemming over this picture of "smoked macaroni and cheese." When the waitress told K that she could sub her fries for macaroni, Sweeney, K and I pretty much squee'd. Like, out loud. We all ordered a bowl of mac-n-cheese.

The fries came out and they tasted like Velveeta.

Sweeney: Maybe if we drown it in ketchup? Or salsa? Pass the ketchup.

K: Oh, you mean to-mah-to sauce?

Lor: NO. Tomato sauce is the thing you put on pizza. It's... sauce-y, you know?

K: No, that's to-mah-to paste.

Lor: NOOOOO. Tomato paste is the thing that comes in a can and is paste-y.

Sweeney: You really have the best definitions. Tomato paste: paste-y.

The macaroni and cheese we almost wet ourselves over came out, and in the words of K, tasted like "macaroni and bonfire." Yep. I felt really embarrassed though because we made a BFD about it in front of the waitress and nobody touched their macaroni. So, I did what any self respecting almost 25-year-old would do in that situation: I started to hide bits of my macaroni to make it look like I'd eaten it. I forked some of it into the bite of sandwich I had left. I buried a little bit under the leftover fries. I hid a single macaroni in Penny's leftover lettuce leaf. I ever threw one into the salsa that came with the fries. Sweeney said that hiding place was a fail, but I stand by my decision. That totally worked.

By then end of my camouflage mission we were all doubled over in laughter. That was really the moment when I felt the happiest and the saddest. It was that gut wrenching laughter that made me love everything about life. But I also realized that in just hours, I would be boarding a plane and leaving behind Sweeney and K. It felt like we'd been friends for all our lives. It felt like we'd been having dinners together forever. It felt like they'd always known about my habit of hiding food I don't eat because of my totally unreasonable embarrassment.

We kept walking along Navy Pier for a while. I bought my mom two magnets because she has a fridge full of them and when I told her I'd bring back a Chicago magnet, she visibly cringed.

Sweeney made us stop at a fudge shop and I had a waffle covered in chocolate and peanut butter chips. Let that sink in for a moment.

Saying goodbye to K at the entrance to the Navy Pier was stupid.
Saying goodbye to Sweeney outside of O'Hare was stupid.

"Don't die!" we told each other, as Sweeney climbed back into her black Mustang, Lola, and Penny and I disappeared into O'Hare, to return to Florida and the everyday routine of normal life. Real life.

It hardly feels like a week later.

I miss vacation already.

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One of the many suggestions given to us at bloggy school was to share ideas and announce prospective projects so that the community can hold you accountable for them.

Well, my beautiful community, for the next month I've decided to test out a more regular posting schedule.

Tune into LttP every Monday and Thursday for brand new posts. I feel like maybe I should say I'll give up chocolate for two months if I don't follow through but jeez. That's seems extreme, no?

I like all of your faces.

Lorraine Says: One Blogger, Two Blogger, Red Blogger, Blue Blogger

2011-08-24T16:05:00.015-04:00

Hello! This is part one of my "did I mention I went to Chicago, 'cause I totally did!" post. It's a little long and it's all about the actual 20sb Summit. Coming up on Friday will be the "what I did in Chicago" post and Monday you'll get reflections on travelling in general.

Fun times, yo.

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The first thing I realized as I walked into the main room of the 20sb Summit Saturday morning was that I'd walked directly in front of the camera that was streaming live.

Crap.

I took a moment to sit down and catch my breath. I didn't really want to move or rustle around too much, probably because I was afraid someone would notice me and immediately escort me out on the grounds of being too awkward to function.

Once I was breathing normally again, I relaxed in my seat and the realization that I was in a room full of bloggers washed over me. I took a moment to scan through the crowd, to see if I could spot any familiar faces (yes: Cleopatra) but soon abandoned that task in favor of giving my full attention to that morning's keynote speaker Scott Belsky.

I have to pause here to say that tackling the Summit and my Chicago experience in general has been challenging. I feel like I saw/heard/liked/learned too much. I kind of want to pull my thoughts out and put them in a basin for you guys to dunk your heads into, but I digress. I will, however, try to organize my thoughts. Ahem.

So. How did it go?

I'm going to be completely honest and say that I had mentally prepared myself to be disappointed. I know, that's terrible and you can call me a meanie pants, especially because I'm on the 20sb team.

The thing was that it wasn't that I had any doubts that Derek and co. could pull it off but rather that I feared I would feel like an outsider. I blog... but only sometimes for fun. I love my community... but I'm still semi-anonymous. I've seen some of these people around the Internet...but I tend to be awkward IRL. So I set myself up for personal disappointment, just in case.

I was perfectly wrong. I loved it. I think about it and get tons of really gross, warm and fuzzy feelings. I learned a ton that was applicable to me, the not-so-professional blogger. Derek announced that the summit was over on Sunday afternoon and no one made a move. Not one of us wanted to leave.

Okay, well, what did you do?

Sweeney and I have been affectionately referring to the summit as, "bloggy school." Here are the panels I attended:

- Scott Belsky's Keynote - I'd say this was definitely the talk I learned the most from. See, I'm a dreamer. I come up with all these great ideas but I have the work ethic of a hibernating slug when it comes to my own projects. His tips on organization and idea management were dead on for me.

- Laying the Foundation with Jenn Bollenbacher, Katie Laird and Molly Ford - They answered some basic questions like, "what should I post about," and "how often should I post," but I walked away from it all with a refreshed take on my blog and how I want people to interact with it.

Specifically, there are two things that I'm very seriously mulling over: a regular posting schedule and a different comments section. The truth is that Blogger's native comments don't encourage interaction or conversation.

Someone made the point about readers being too lazy to want to sign in or sign up anywhere just to comment. I get that. I do. Hibernating slug remember?

Then, someone also said that some people were also too lazy to click "read more" buttons.

I guess my decision going forward will depend on how many lazy readers I have or how much I believe in the changes I'm considering.

- Explosion with Craig Benzine (Wheezy Waiter) - He was one of the first to say what ultimately became the unofficial theme to the weekend: Just start creating content. START. Keep creating until you get better, but the most important thing is to start. Plus, there's this:

You mean inspiration won't breathe on me? Sads.

- Oh No, I've Said Too Much! with Ben Boudreau - Holy relatable. Holy adorable too, but that's a different story. (Which, Ben gave me a hug for asking a question or two (or a millionty) and I giggled hardcore. He was just so cute.)

Ben talked about boundaries in blogging, how he learned to draw lines, telling his stories and no one else's and never fearing being "caught" since his blog is out for all to see.

Being anonymous is pretty exhausting, as is the fear of getting "caught." I mean, I had my 90-day review at BobU last week and my boss kept asking me about my blog and what I blog about. I hate having that over me.

It's come to a point where I'm not ashamed of what I write and there really isn't anything to hide anymore. I thought for a second of unmasking myself but the whole, "oh haiii people I know in real life! Here's this whole blog I've had for two years behind your back," conversation is not one I want to have.

And so now I'm toying with the idea of starting yet another blog and testing the waters of blogging with my real name, telling my own stories and having no fear of getting caught. LttP will not cease to exist, but this is something I have to try. I want to see the reactions of my family and friends and go from there.

Maybe one day both my worlds will meet, but until then, baby steps.

If You Build It, They Will Come by Jenna Langer, Sami Ari and Sara Altier - Probably the group of panelists I got to know the most and they were also amazing. In fact, it made me pretty sad that I live in South Florida where there are probably a total of 2 bloggers. Tweet-up for two? Sigh.

Jenny Blake's Keynote - Her own personal story is inspiring in and of itself but completely relatable. I mean, I've never quit Google to become a life coach, but I've felt that heart-attack-of-uncertainty feeling before. We all have.

Tweet Your Way to the Top with Elysa Rice, Laurel Moffat and Ryan Paugh - First off, Laurel Moffat's enthusiasm for her brand, Southwest Airlines, was awesome. Genuine, and awesome. They talked a lot about the ins and outs of work in social media and they were fair about all aspects of it. It's something that I've considered, but I walked away from that panel feeling like I knew more about what a job in that field actually meant.

Hot off the Presses with Becky Davis and Nicopalitan del Castillo - I'm not even gonna lie. I just went to sit with Sweeney. I don't use Wordpress. But! I was very excited every time Nico said anything. Yay Nico!

The Future Will Be Vlogged with John Pham, Michael Stevens, Patrick Pho and Richard Boehmke - I'm going to risk it and just say that this was probably my favorite panel. It was a great balance of information, humor, audience interaction, and Rich did a textbook job of moderating. The biggest compliment I can give these guys, however, is that I came home wanting to vlog. I CAME HOME WANTING TO HUMILIATE MYSELF ON CAMERA. Well played, sirs.

Fine. Where did you sell your soul?

(That question was kind of a stretch.)

The point I want to make is that 20sb had such a great host of sponsors and the best part was that they weren't shoved in our faces. They provided delicious lunches, or free stuff, or a lounge full of tech goodies to play with, but never once were we told, "GO BUY THIS" and it was perfect.

I came home and I was so impressed that I did the research myself. I looked up Vera Bradley bags to see if they had other sizes to match my take home goodie.

My co-workers LOVE my Vapur water bottle and we spent some time looking through the website and seeing where we can buy them locally (the beach.)

In addition to all that, I met a lot of the BeKnown community management team members. I signed up for BeKnown on Facebook after Sweeney invited me at the start of the summer. I kept hearing that name again and again while there and I filed it away in my head to make sure and check it out more thoroughly once I was home.

In the time before now and when I decide if I want to "come out" as a Blogger, BeKnown is really going to help me. The people at my job are sort of Facebook obsessed. I actually heard a conversation at the lunch room once in which my boss asked a co-worker about her ex-boyfriends-bother's-new girlfriend. That co-worker looked up in horror and asked how the heck my boss knew that person. The answer? Facebook. Stalking.

I love all of my co-workers to death, but they really don't need to be let into the intimacies of my social life. That isn't to say that I don't want to connect with them AT ALL. Anyhow, long story short, I sent them all BeKnown invites.

The funny thing to me about BeKnown, as well as about Southwest Airlines and Lenovo, is that I probably wouldn't have mentioned them based solely on the product. But because I met great people who believed in this product, not in a "I'm getting paid to do this" plastic sort of way, but in a genuinely excited about it sort of way I had to at least say something.

Check out all this stuff guys. No one is paying me to tell you that.

I wish they would. I accept zebra cakes and chocolate. And zebra cakes.

And so that was my summit experience. There was a welcome party too, but I'll mention more about that in part two of my Chicago series about what I did there and who I met.

I guess now the only questions left are

When is the next one? and

Are we there yet?

SMAC: With Less "Shitty" and More "Shelly"

2011-08-23T12:04:00.002-04:00

Hello! I'm home from Chicago, siting in my rolley work chair and probably dying a slow and painful death.

(Slightly exaggerated.)

I am working on a three part series to tell you all about 1.) Chicago and travelling b.) the 20sb summit and cat.) what I did there.

However, while I was away, our monthly SMAC was going on and well, I missed it. I'm super late.

This would normally be super terrible. It is, however, EVEN MORE TERRIBLE, because this month we are substituting the "shitty" for "Shelly" in celebration of Shelly's birthday! We're taking on movies that remind us this lovely blogger and the best person to ever say, "jeepers."

I was actually with Shelly in Chicago, celebrating her birthday with tapas, drinks, karaoke, shouting, "I LOVE NEIL DIAMOND," and squeezing too many people in a cab. It was epic.

And now, to further add to her birthday awesomeness, I will finally post Tabitha's review of Star Wars.

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When it was decided that we would be taking the opportunity to honour Shelley instead of SMAC’ing this month, it was kind of a given that I would be taking Star Wars. I mean really, who else would? I’m so obsessed with Star Wars that if it were a guy, I would be stalking him mercilessly begging for his love because of his total awesomeness.

Okay, maybe not to that extreme, but I’m sure you get the point.

The point is. Star Wars is epic. Shelley is pure win. I think Shelley rocks, and I think Star Wars is also pure win, therefore, if you look at it mathematically Star Wars + Shelley = Tabitha reviews Star Wars.

Now that we’ve settled that issue, onto the review. If you haven’t seen Star Wars, I am temporarily ending our friendship until you at LEAST read the review. Then you can say you have vague knowledge about it and we can be friends again. (Obv. I won’t really unfriend you, but if you haven’t seen it I’m VERY DISAPPOINTED! **pouting**)

This is gonna be long. There will also be lots of footnotes. Enjoy!

The first thing you need to know about Star Wars is that it is very confusing when it comes to understanding the order of the saga. Firstly, the saga is made up of two trilogies; the original trilogy which is Episodes 4-6, and the new trilogy, which is Episodes 1-3. Also, you should make note. There really is only one Return of the ______ and sorry, LOTR fans, but it is not of the King. It is *Return of the Jedi. But, because the new trilogy is kind of an embarrassment, I’m only going to review the original.

The second thing you need to know is that there is a very big difference between Star Wars nerds and Star Trek nerds (who are not to be confused with the smaller breed of Star Wars nerds who appreciate Star Trek but are still Lucas-lovers first and foremost). Simply put, Star Wars nerds are less freaky, and unlike Star Trek nerds, they can still get laid. **

Obviously, in order to review it properly, I have to start in the order in which the movies came out.

Our story begins with Star Wars, Episode 4: A New Hope. A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, there was this kid named Luke. He lives with his aunt and uncle on a desert planet where they farm moisture for a living. His father and mother died when he was young, at least, this is what he has been told. He longs for adventure. He longs for excitement. Pretty much, he longs for anything that’s not this awful desert planet.

One day, they get these droids, who are carrying a message from a Princess, who is beautiful, and he totally has the hots for. But you find out later, it’s kinda nasty because the Princess is actually his twin sister (who he kisses twice. Blech. Lucas, you are a twisted man). We actually meet the princess before Luke. We also meet Darth Vader, who’s this badass Sith Lord that is like 95% robot.

Anyways. One of the droids runs away to find his old master, Obi Wan Kenobi, who Luke knows as crazy old Ben Kenobi. Apparently, Obi Wan has alzheimers, because he doesn’t remember R2D2 at all, but we later learn in the new trilogy the guy spent like, 12 years or more with R2.

Kenobi tells Luke his father was a Jedi Knight who was killed by Vader, and that they must go and save the galaxy. Luke decides he needs to stay with his aunt and uncle, only, they kinda get slaughtered because of the droids, so off they go.

In comes Han Solo. Played by Harrison Ford wearing snug pants and a sexy, shirt, Han Solo is this badass space smuggler who agrees to take them to find the Princess’s father.

But then we find out Darth Vader and the empire have built this massive space station called the Death Star, and he has blown up the Princess’s planet, Alderaan, in order to make her co-operate as a prisoner. Vader kills Obi Wan during the rescue attempt and Luke gets depressed. They vow to get all the information stored in the little droid to the Rebel Alliance so that they can beat the empire.

Basically, the rest of the movie is filled with a lot of plot development, badass fight scenes with starships, and ends with the Rebel Alliance blowing up the Death Star.

Luke and Han are heroes and Han wants in Princess Leia’s pants. His big walking carpet of a co-pilot (also known as a Wookie) lets out a roar and everyone celebrates while Leia undresses Han with her eyes. Trust me, it looks like she’s just smiling at him, but that little blush tells us exactly what’s going on.

While the special effects might be considered poor quality compared to today’s movies, remember, this came out in the end of the 70’s, so those special effects were as badass as they could get. Rodenberry didn’t have shit on Lucas.

Episode 5, Empire Strikes Back, is definitely my favourite. It’s filled with awesome humour, and the best romance scene ever.

Since this review is already getting long, I’ll summarize as quickly as possible. Vader is pissed and wants revenge for his Death Star. The evil Sith Emperor wants Luke to join them. Luke goes to find a muppet named Yoda to learn the secrets of the force, but then senses his friends are in trouble and runs away against Yoda’s wishes to save them.

The whole movie is filled with sexual tension between Han and Leia. Then they make out. While Luke is off training, they get betrayed by Han’s buddy Lando (who’s like the pimp of the universe), and Han gets frozen in carbonite as part of a deal made between Vader and the coolest bounty hunter ever, Boba Fett. Just before Han’s frozen, Leia confesses her love, and Han says ‘I know’.***

Luke arrives, fights Vader, finds out Vader is his father and screams like a little child. Vader says join me or die, Luke says no, Vader cuts off his hand. Leia and Lando (who we find out is actually cool but was forced to obey Vader) save Luke, and off they fly with plans of saving Han.

Episode 6, Return of the Jedi, begins with Luke returning to Dagobah to find muppet Yoda, and Yoda dies.

Leia and Lando develop a plan to save Han who has been given as a gift to Jabba the Hutt because Han royally screwed him out of some money in Ep. 4. Only, they’re kind of dumb, because the Hutts are some of the biggest crime lords in the galaxy, and despite being these ugly giant slug creatures, they’re pretty damned smart. So of course, they clue in and capture Leia and the droids, and Leia is forced to be his pet in a gold bikini (which every Star Wars geeky guy hopes his gf/wife will one day wear for him.). Yoda dies, but just before he does, Luke finds out Leia is his sister. Luke goes and rescues Han and Leia, killing Jabba, and ****Boba Fett gets knocked into the Sarlacc Pitt, which is really just a giant space worm with jagged teeth and a stomach full of acid.

Of course, all the while, the Empire has rebuilt the Death Star, and are getting ready to take out the rebel alliance, and I’m sure would start blowing up the galaxy later if they have the chance.

The rebels make a plan to take it out, and they go to a planet full of teddy bears (Ewoks) to take out the shield system. The Ewok’s first capture them all (except Leia, who makes friends with one and so they don’t want to eat her), but think one of the droids is a god so they let them all go and become friends.

Han gets all jealous of Luke and Leia thinking Luke is totally scamming on his chick.

Of course, after a big space battle, and a massive lightsaber battle, Luke saves his father, his father kills the emperor, then dies. They blow up the Death Star, and celebrations all around. Leia tells Han that Luke is her brother, and Han gets all excited.

Big celebrations ensue all across the galaxy.

The end.

Now that you know what it’s all about, I can make the review.

Star Wars rules. Luke’s a whiny emo kid. Leia kicks ass. Han is sexy. Darth Vader phails. Yoda is a stoned muppet. Lightsabers are cool.

And of course, no matter how badly Lucas screwed up with Episodes 1-3, they will always, always be better than Twilight.

*Interesting fact: Return of the Jedi was originally called Revenge of the Jedi, but due to the fact that revenge is against the Jedi code, they renamed it ‘return’. They could have however, kept that title had they decided to make Luke a gray Jedi, because Gray Jedi make up their own rules. Like Sam L. Jackson. Ain’t nobody gonna tell him Jedi’s use green and blue lightsabers. He was like ‘Hell no, I want a purple blade bitch!’

** This point is not actually pertinent to the review, however, I just thought it needed to be pointed out how much cooler Star Wars nerds are.

***The first time a guy tells me he loves me, I’m totally stealing that line.

****If you’re into extended universe type stuff, Boba Fett actually survives the pit, and goes on to become Mandalore, which is the leader of the Mandalorians, a very badass race of humans that hire out as mercenaries and can pretty much kick anyone’s ass… even Jedi.

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Happy birthday again Shelly!

Please, please check back for the summit recaps!

And I'll have my review for Shelly up in no time!

Lorraine

Lorraine Says: Staying Quiet Is Not My Thing

2011-08-21T21:59:00.000-04:00

They say that this hotel is haunted. When we first stepped into the room at the start of our trip, we laughed at the small space, old outlets and strange art on the walls. The first time we heard the random knocking on our bathroom wall, Penny and I decided the best way to handle it would be to ask the ghost to come in. He never did. Rude.

I'm pretty sure I locked myself in the bathroom. A few times. I might've complained about how much I walked this weekend. A few times. And still, tonight, as we walked down the last block of Michigan Avenue towards our hotel, I found myself saying, "I can't wait to get home." I didn't mean the house in south Florida that I've called home for the last 22 years. I meant the haunted hotel where a small selection of the small total of all my worldy possessions lay strewn across a dated room.

Just a few days and I've fallen into another routine. One where I've been immersed In this bubble of new friends and inspiration and blogging and exploration. And walking. A whole crap ton of walking.

Tomorrow is our last day in Chicago and I'm coming back home (real home) with a full, uh, head. Also, a new pair of jeans, a Vera Bradley bag, and 4 bags of Chicago mix popcorn. But those are all stories that'll have to wait to be told.

It says a lot, though, that I struggled on my phone for the last 20 minutes typing up this little summary because I felt I at least had to say something. To at least sprinkle out a few of the thoughts that are bouncing around in my head. To say, it was an amazing time with a lot of lessons learned. And to say that I really hope that this hotel isn't really haunted.

I apologize for all the sentence fragments. And all the sentences that start with and.

Be home soon,
Lorraine

RSVP: A Summery Swap

2011-08-16T22:23:00.003-04:00

It figures, right, that in the days leading up to my first blogging summit, I basically stop blogging. This whole not being able to blog at work thing is hard, yo. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

But! Tomorrow I leave for Chicago and I'm pretty sure I'll be able to milk that trip for a post, or ten. Stay tuned.

For today, I've got a post courtesy of a 20sb Blog Swap. I got paired with the lovely Becca from belle bottoms. Read on to hear her tale of how her summer was totally way better than mine. And coincidence! She happened to visit Florida.

Click on over to her blog to hear me talk about summers of yester-year and sleeping until noon.

Yep.

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Hi there! I'm Becca, the gal behind belle bottoms, and I am very excited to be blogging over here today!

Thanks to 20-something Bloggers, and their annual blog swap, I have been given the opportunity to share with you a little glimpse into my summer this year.

I love to travel. It's in my blood. I feel like if I did enough research, I could test my DNA and find the travel gene entwined with my adventure and passion chromosomes...

This summer I got to indulge my passion with not one, but TWO vacations: the first to Europe for 12 days, the second down to the Florida beach for 10 days. I normally travel during the summer months, despite my lack of time off at work (hey, I work to live, not live to work!!), but taking more than one trip this season was a bit of an indulgence....and I loved every minute of it!

Along with the shenanigans and hoopla that is inevitable with every trip I take, valuable lessons are also learned each time I unpack my bags. Here are some things I took with me this summer from my escapades through London, Stockholm, Barcelona, St. Martin and the Florida beaches:

If you are like me, always pack less outfits than there are days in your trip. I say this because of one thing....H&M.

During the first part of your flight, set up boundaries with the person sitting next to you so that the rest of the 15 hours isn't spent in a "Does he/she want to talk? Did he/she just touch my arm? Are they flirting with me?" spin cycle of emotions. Unless the person sitting next to you is your mom...then you can just go about reading your InStyle magazine :)

Scarves are your best friends. They are also a key component for looking "Euro".

The same goes for skinny distressed jeans, high top sneakers, aviator sunglasses, disheveled hair, Armani, D&G, and Prada.

Always memorize how to say "hello", "goodbye", "thank you" and "please" in the other language. Trust me, the natives will be happy you are trying!

Hand gestures go a long way...unless they involve the middle finger...then YOU might be going a long way...down the wrong way...:)

People tend to gesture more and talk louder when you don't understand them, as if the sheer volume of their voice will all of a sudden make you understand.

Never settle for the first price at an outdoor market.

It's okay to have staring contests with the people sitting across from you on the tube. In fact, it's encouraged. ;)

The further north you go, the taller and more blonde people become. The further south you go, the shorter and hairier people get.

Don't ever accept invitations for "A good American time!" down at the discothèque by the water...that's code for "we'll roofie your drink and overcharge you for it in the process!"

When in doubt, order the chicken.

Walking around a city for hours gives you automatic rights to that monster-size gelato you eyed in the window earlier. You know, the one with the giant cannoli as a garnish?

One of the cheapest and best things I do when travelling is buy food at an outdoor market and sit in a local park while people-watching. It's cheap, it's entertaining, and you look like a local!

Water crashing against rocks is my natural Tylenol PM.

Swimming is one of the best total body workouts.

Sand is a great exfoliate.

It is NOT great when it gets into your bathing suit bottoms...

One week of running on the beach can give you calves like the Greek gods.

It's okay to start happy hour at 2pm...just cover up your buzz by saying you may have gotten too much sun that day.

Banana hammocks are never okay...I don't care how fit and tan you are.

Sunsets are more magical when there are dolphins swimming and jumping beneath them.

and finally....Never take for granted the travelling you do. Each trip should open your eyes and heart to something new about the world around you!

Care to find out more about my travels this summer? Check out some of these posts:

English Riviera and photo recap

London and photo recap

Stockholm and photo recap

Barcelona and photo recap

St. Martin and photo recap

San Blas and photo recap

Enjoy!

hearts and hugs,

Lorraine Says: Cockroaches Will Inherit the Earth

2011-08-04T15:22:00.011-04:00

We are rapidly approaching the second year anniversary of Late to the Party. In three months, my baby blog will be toddling around, talking back, touching things that don’t belong to it, and probably biting me and poking me in the eye. On the bright side, maybe now it will stop shitting its pants.

The point is, I feel like my time as a blogging newbie is over. I’m like a veteran now. I can put new bloggers on my knee and talk about the good ole days and how things were back in my time.

Maybe not really yet? Fine. The point is that I’ve learned a lot and blah blah blah. The other real point is that even with all this experience under my belt, there are still topics that make me a little itchy to talk about. There are still times when I start writing about something and I swell with embarrassment. I'm not even necessarily talking about things that should be embarrassing. These are just things that, for whatever reason, I have difficulty addressing.

TL;DR: I'm awkward, easily embarrassed and scared of mostly everything.

In the months leading up to our second anniversary, I’ve decided to do my best to face these topics head on in a series I’ll call “The Late Confessions.” (I used the term “series” lightly. I know that my commitment to some of these things is iffy, at best. But y’know. In theory!)

(Also, I realize my last “series” was supposed to be one where I introduce you all to my co-workers. Yeah, well I’ve been caught with Blogger open [not even blogging, FYI, just open] like twice already at work. I have nothing to hide on the blog, but if I’ve learned one lesson, I’ve learned that people do not like to discover they are being talked about. Series suspended until further notice.)

Late Confession #1 – Or How the Sight of a Cockroach Turns Me into a Completely Useless Human Being

This past Sunday I was up way before the rest of my house because I always take the longest to get ready for church and because I had some clean laundry to fold and other miscellaneous chores.

As I was innocently folding my clothes in one corner of my room, something flashed by my peripherial vision and my entire body froze. Before I ever turned my head to face it complete, I knew. I KNEW.

Drawn to scale. And why yes, those are crazy eyes.

There was a monster roach on my wall, just climbing up and up, defying gravity and I’m pretty sure it was growing right before my eyes. Maybe.

Confession 1a: I have two reactions to roaches: freeze in terror OR run screaming like a girl and climb on something.

In this case, I froze. He was right above MY BED, way up near the ceiling. I felt that any sudden movements, and he’d free dive off the wall and into my bed. I threw up inside of my mouth a little at the thought.

Confession 1b: If/when I find a roach, I run to the first available family member, friend, neighbor, small child or hobo and yell, “KILLIT. KILLIT. KILLIT!” Don’t judge me like you are above asking your two year old niece if she’s afraid of roaches. Don’t you judge me.

Everyone was sleeping. There was one time I woke my parents up at 3am to get a roach who got stuck in Christmas wrapping paper in my closet. I felt a little bad though, waking anyone up, and figured that everyone would be awake anyways in a few minutes. Mostly, I was really embarrassed to wake someone up all, "hey good morning! Soooo... there's a roach in my room, it's gonna kill me, halp!"

I decided, in my groggy Sunday morning state, that I should go, take a shower and hope that someone would be awake when I got out. In retrospect? Worse. Idea. Ever.

I mean, how about if that Brick House (which I named the roach) decided to play hide and seek while I was bathing. WHAT IF HE FOLLOWED ME INTO THE BATHROOM? Know where the worst place to be attacked by a roach is? Naked in the shower.

I didn’t think of it then, though, so I showered quickly, wrapped myself in a towel and prepared to brave my room again. Brick House was in the same damn spot.

I looked at him.
He stared back at me.
I cocked my head to the side and looked at him.
He wiggled his antennae at me, but didn’t move otherwise.
I started to whine at him.
HE STARTED DOING ROACH AEROBICS.

I swear to Jeezy, he started to do pushups on my wall. No need to intimidate me, Roach, you’re a mother fucking roach. Guys, I’m not even joking when I tell you that he curved his body in a half moon shape. Like he was stretching and preparing to come after me. I’m pretty sure he cracked his knuckles too.

No one was awake still.

“Okay,” thought I, “I will just get dressed and maybe THEN someone will be awake.”

I went to drop my towel, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t because he was watching me. This standoff couldn’t go on, so I decided I had to steel myself and spray Brick House myself.

First step: Find the roach spray while making as much noise as possible in a last ditch effort to wake someone up. I stomped into the laundry room, slammed the sliding door open. I hit a few bottles together to make it sound like I was looking for stuff, even though I had the roach spray in my hand. I loudly sighed to myself. Nothing.

Second step: I had to use my super mind control powers to get Brick House to move. If I sprayed him over my bed, he would land, all toxic waste covered, in my bed. Next to my bed was my workout bag and purse so I couldn’t spray him there. I needed that lazy ass to walk himself to the corner, where I could safely spray him while perched on my bed.

I stood and stared. Move.
He didn’t. MOVE DAMMIT.
He really didn’t move.

So, I did what I had to. I flashed a little boob. Not on purpose mind you, but in all the commotion, my towel slipped a little. A lot. The roach immediately moved toward me, into the safe zone.

+1 for boobs.

I climbed up onto my bed, took aim, sprayed him down while yelling like I was the one getting sprayed and saw him free fall off the wall into the corner behind a chair.
I was free to put on my underwear.

I was then free to realize that the roach landed on its back onto a forgotten Goosebumps book. I’m pretty sure it was the one I was so angry with, I threw it after I finished and never thought of it again. It all made sense to me, that the roach would meet its end by the words, "reader beware..."

As I looked at it, it spasmed, shaking all its legs at me and I’m pretty sure in roach sign language, he flicked me off. I screamed some more and ran away.

At that point, my parents were up and now staring at me as I ran into the kitchen, and doubled over to try and catch my breath. "Roach?" my mom asked casually as she poured some more coffee. I made my dad come to my room and get it.

The best part was when he came back with the book all, "Uh, do you still want this?" but you can tell the real question was, "why in the eff do you have a Goosebumps book readily available?!" Detail, papa. Details.

Confession 1c: THIS WAS SUPER EMBARRASING TO TELL.

And, I mean, not only because I’m a pansy when it comes to roaches, but because it feels like a guilty admission when you are all, “I had a roach in my house.” On TV and in movies, roaches only ever show up in dirty apartments or run down warehouses or near aliens or bad guys. I promise everyone, I am not an alien or a bad guy!

The funny part is that my mother is a neat freak who cleans the house before the cleaning lady comes to clean the house.

So, I took to Google and I googled, “state with the most roaches,” hoping the information would vindicate my having a roach in my house. I know, I know. Everyone has had one. I get it. But it's like...y'know. Number 2. Like... poop.

I get that everyone does it, that doesn't mean we have to talk about it, right? Right.

Anyhow, apparently only me and 3 other people have ever googled this, ever. Thanks, Google, for reaffirming my insecurities. The only answer I really got was from ChaCha (obvs a reliable source) and it said something like, “who knows?! But Florida is a great state for roaches and it is the state with the most species of roaches in the US.”

A-HA! THANK YOU RANDOM INTERNET POSTER. I BELIEVE YOU ARE CORRECT.

Also, Palmetto Bugs (another name for roaches. I think.) really like Palmetto trees. They are like four star hotels for them. And we have Palmetto trees in our front yard! Damn you, you pansy-ass palm trees. You suck.

I further Googled roaches in Florida.

I’ve told you about the Grim Reaper, right? She was our biology teacher in high school, and she pretty much hated Rox and I. For any of you who read Childhood Trauma, she’s the one who said, “if you lie, you cheat and if you cheat, you steal and if you steal, you murder.”

Anyhow, she’d always tell us this story about a weird biology professor she had in college who would walk while bending down real low, so that he could look under the desks and up the girls’ skirts. She would then demonstrate. CREEPER.

He would also always say, “Cockroaches will inherit the earth!” Which meant that she would always say it too, while imitating him.

As I googled about cockroaches, I came across a site for second graders or something, and it taught me a lot about roaches: they can live a month with no food, a week with no water and a week with no head. They’ve been around since dinosaurs and Jesus. If there were truly a zombie apocalypse, roaches would be the only ones to survive. A zombie roach is the scariest thing of all time.

These are just the straight facts and they basically prove that, yes, roaches will inherit the earth.

Thank you for listening to me rant about roaches. I’d kindly appreciate if you didn’t judge me and point and laugh because I can’t afford a therapist, and obviously talking to the internet about all this stuff is supposed to help me and this was already really hard.

Whatever.

We all have our issues.

(For a really funny post on a roach encounter, visit Sara's blog titled, "The Post That Confirms That I Swear. A Lot." It was actually this post that gave me the rescolve to say, "the next time I meet a roach, I'm blogging about it!")

I like all of your faces and would consider spraying a roach for you all. But definitely not stepping on it. We also all have our limits.

PS. Yes, I did change more stuff on our layout. This is just what happens when I can't sleep at night, okay? Just pretend like something changing on our site every week is part of the appeal. Thank you for playing along at home, folks.

Lorraine Says: I Can't Decide if I Want to Grow Up

2011-08-02T23:44:00.005-04:00

A month ago, Rox, Penny and I had breakfast with Phoenix. It was during this breakfast that he laughed at me for taking notes of different conversations we had. He can suck it.

As we sat around our pancakes that morning (and he drank black coffee, ew) the subject of 4th of July plans came up. I shared with him the fact that I would be going to Sommie's 4th of July block party, which I thought he would find funny. He was the one, after all, who first mentioned her in his guest blog post.

"Why don't you like her again?" I asked. It seemed like a question I'd asked before, but the answer wasn't readily available in my head.

"I don't not like her," Phoenix hemmed. "But I'm pretty sure she was responsible for the first time I got beat up in elementary school."

"Not that you think about that or hold onto a grudge or anything..." I joked.

Penny, ever the bestest friend of ever, teasingly asked Phoenix, "Guess who else lives on Sommie's block?" After another swig of his coffee, Phoenix played along. "Who?"

I groaned and mentally kicked Penny in her non-existent balls. "Magpie," I answered the question.

"Fuck Magpie!" Phoenix responded immediately.

"She already did," Penny answered without missing a beat.

I slumped down in the booth and died a little inside, waiting for the laughter to die down.

That exchange brought up the topic of early school crushes, first times and other awkward, embarrassing subjects. Phoenix asked us if we remembered Jessica Emo-ly (not her real name) who happened to be his first.

Rox, Penny and I had no clue who he was talking about until he clarified: the skinny girl who always wore costume butterfly wings to school. Yep. That description definitely cleared things up.

We pointed and laughed, naturally, and laughed even more when he told us about seeing her one day, completely without any of her caked on make-up and black eyeliner. "It was a completely different girl."

We all teased and got teased in our turn over our school girl (uh and guy) crushes. I mean, some allowance has to be made. We were kids and kids are dumb.

It's even more amusing, because it was all so important back then. I remember 8th grade practically revolving over the boy I liked, Hason. I have him on Facebook now, and I just shake my head at myself whenever his picture shows up on my newsfeed. I wonder what the hell I was thinking, and say three Hail Mary's. I'm not Catholic, so I have no idea what that means, but it seems appropriate in light of the sin of ever liking this kid.

Anyways, he had a girlfriend for a better part of our middle school career, which didn't really stop either one of us from flirting and carrying on. His girlfriend quickly caught wind of it, and one Monday morning I showed up to school and received 3 or 4 messages that this girl wanted to beat me up.

I freaked out. I'd never been in a fight. She was like 2 years older than us because she'd been left back. She was hefty and solid. I was doomed and my entire life was over. That day at school seemed to last a year, with new people constantly coming up to me to carry the news that I was going to be beat up.

That day, 6th period, I was in the hall putting up a bulletin board, because I was a nerd that way. I had my back to the hallway and was stapling pictures up when I heard someone coming down the hall. I turned to see Hason's girlfriend walking toward me. The hall was completely empty. Not a teacher or student in sight. I held my breath and gripped my stapler and...

Nothing. Not a word, a dirty look, a lunge, a punch, or anything. She passed right by me twice and didn't do a single thing. Hours earlier it seemed my entire life would end, because hormones and melodrama said it would. Everything was so important. Every item of gossip, every note passed, every idle threat.

I don't think I've ever thought, "Man, I want to go back to middle school." And even though high school wasn't a terrible time for me, I don't think I've ever wanted to go back there either.

Being a teenager is really out of the question, but let me just tell you for a one second, that my 20's so far, just a month away from my 25th birthday, haven't been all chocolate and unicorns.

Assorted Reasons and Different Ways the 20-something Years Suck (With Special Help From Twitter Friends)

These are the original reasons I started with when I started writing this post:

- Time flies. Do you guys remember how long a school year used to be? It freakin' sucked. Now it seems that time is off in a hurry. We are in August of 2011. AUGUST. What the hell? Where has this year gone? I seriously feel like I just sat down to write about awkward birthdays and how scary turning 24 would be, and now I'm nearly 25.

I don't remember time every moving this quickly when I was a kid.

- Age pressure. The most age related pressure you get when you're a kid is like, "hey, you're 2 now. Maybe you should stop using a diaper." And that really isn't pressure, because I mean, you really SHOULD stop using a diaper at that point because that shit is gross.

No one is walking around going, "oh God, you're twelve and you still haven't gotten your molars?" and yet when you're twenty, suddenly these age-related statements become acceptable. You're how old and still in school? You're how old and aren't married? Don't have a boyfriend? Still live at home? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

- Watching your parents get older. My dad was Superman to me. I had no idea that we was a size 29 and about 130 pounds soaking wet. He was strong and brave and unbeatable. My mom fixed everything. She was a nurse and a teacher and a magician and the best cook of life.

Sure, a lot of that has to do with childhood innocence, but watching my parents get old has been really hard. My mom can't see anything unless it's about a foot from her face. My dad can barely pick up Gailey-bird without wincing at the lower back pain.

My mom rattles off every female name in our family before finally saying, "you! Just come here!" My dad looks more like my grandpa. My mom looks more like my grandma.

It's kind of depressing.

After I got this far, I took to Twitter to ask people there what they thought the suckiest part of the 20's were and here's what I got:

Just so we're clear, I don't want to go back in time, but I also don't want to grow up. Clearly, I have issues. I also think, though, that you should share with me what the most difficult part of your 20's is/was. Also, any embarrassing stories about old crushes are totally welcome.

Also, what's your ideal age or age range? Like if you could go back in time, or if you could freeze your life at a particular age, what would it be?

This list actually started when Penny got some difficult news about her father's health. We had a discussion about our dads and how daddy tears are basically kryptonite and how our fathers should never, ever be sick, ever.

Otherwise, things have been a little strange, to say the least. This past weekend was my cousin Pistene's wedding shower. I had a good time, and not only because of the dessert table.

It's always really awkward at those family things, though, because you have all of the older ladies, all winkywinkying and making sex jokes and assuming that everyone who is unmarried knows nothing about sex and OMG, I'M GOING TO TRY TO FORGET ALL OF THAT AND JUST STARE AT THE DESSERTS.

I'm pretty sure my next post will be about cockroaches and Ramen noodles. I know, you're excited already.

I like each and everyone of your faces just about as much as I liked that chocolate cake. <3

Lorraine Says: I'm a Genie in a Bottle And Other Life Lessons

2011-07-25T16:19:00.016-04:00

I try really hard not to be one of those "days of the week" people. Oh, you know the kind.

See how fancy I look in my profile pic?

I specifically said "try" because even after the entire world has forgotten her, Rebecca Black lives on in my heart and "Fryday" should always be posted about. When she undoubtedly gets arrested, stars in a pornographic film, or worse, stars in a Lifetime movie, I will still be there supporting her.

On the other hand, there is never an okay time for anyone to wish someone else a "happy hump day."

Today seems to be a particularly difficult Monday, judging from my Facebook feed. I, for one, won't tell you that I hate Mondays, because I'm pretty sure that's racism against all Mondays.

I will say, however, that I am absolutely exhausted. Today is one of those Mondays that leave you looking back at the weekend thinking, "what the hell did I do and why am I so tired?" Follow-up questions might include, "where did all my money go?" "did a semi-truck run over me while I was sleeping?" and also, "I wonder how bad it would be if I fell asleep at my desk?"

My co-worker AlmaAlma is one of those people who comments on everything. As I silently ate my lunch she said, "I can tell you are tired Lorraine. You are usually more put together than this."

I looked up from my Chipotle bowl and gave her a little smile/stank eye combination. It's the look that says, "I'm being polite but what I really want is to flick you in the eyeball." AlmaAlma is not the type of person who knows when to stop. "You have no make-up on, you're wearing your glasses and you don't usually tie back your hair. Plus, your eyes are all small and squinty."

Gee, thanks.

Alas, there were no drunken antics or wild adventures to account for my present appearance. I'm just really, really sleepy. And we all know that Lorraine Sleepy is about the same as Lorraine Drunk. I answered my work phone today by saying, "Thank you for calling Velveeta Crap Watches!" and I haven't worked at Velveeta since 2009.

None of this means, however, that I can't look back on the parts of this weekend I do remember, and take away some valuable lessons:

On Saturday, I went and spent all my money at the Aventura mall. We spent about an hour and a half in ONE make-up store. I almost didn't tell you that because it's pretty embarrassing. Then again, it was Inglot.

We shopped a ton and then went home to rest for a bit before we decided to head out in search of dessert. The best thing about that night was the car ride.

Anyone who gets in my car pretty much knows that conversation is minimal. I prefer either relaxing silence or blasting my music and singing along while people watch me/sing along/possibly want to kill themselves.

(Seriously. Roxanne threatens violence on Penny and me and/or herself every time we play Rubblebucket's "Came Out of a Lady." That's the only reason I play it anymore, ever. Just to see her die a little inside. I'm the best friend ever, obviously.)

My taste in music is very different from the other girls (who I collectively call the GC girls. Maybe one day I'll explain.) Through trial and error, though, we've found a few songs from my collection that are pre-approved by the GC and which we will SANG to no matter who is watching.

A small sampling: "Cry For You," by September. "Shut Up and Let Me Go," by the Ting Tings. "Love Gun," by Cee Lo Green. "Airplanes," by Local Natives. Anything by Adele.

Basically anything we can scream, wiggle or emo to.

Saturday night, though, as Vyelite climbed into the car she proclaimed, "I want to listen to "Gone" by Nsync."

"WTF," I said. "I don't have any Nsync!"

"Download it! Download it! C'mon! Add some Backstreet boys! COME ON!"

And so it went until I opened my Gtunes and found every song they requested.
And so it went as we drove down the main street of our city recalling every single word to songs we hadn't heard in ages.

I was complaining last week about the seriousness of life. At some point that night, in my car with my girls who are both family and friends, I felt silly and carefree, if only for one moment.

Life Lesson: Sometimes you have to quit pretending like you don't know all the words to "Shape of My Heart."

Last week I slept like crap. Gailey was staying over while her mother was in the hospital pushing out another baby. Gailey-bird is two years old. She is also the worst sleeper of all time. Homegirl is like a hyperactive bunny in her sleep. Plus, she likes to sleep all cuddled up with people. If at any point throughout the night, she felt me far away, she'd blindly pat my side of the bed, find me, and roll over until she'd snuggled back up against me.

Cute, right? NOT REALLY. She took up the whole freakin' bed. A TWO YEAR OLD.

By the last night she was there, however, I figured out a few tricks that may have involved pillow partitions and pushing her all the way to one corner while I planted myself in the middle of the bed. Don't even feel bad for her, because she still managed to snuggle with me and we both slept like babies.

After I returned Gailey to her parents, I started to miss her. A lot. Even the way she'd sneakily try to pick her nose when I wasn't looking. Or the way she'd call my name a million times before I finally turned around and said, "OMFGWHATWHATWHAT?" Even the way she tried to manipulate me with hugs and kisses when she wanted chocolate from my chocolate drawer. (Quit judging.)

I missed her a lot.

Life Lesson: Kids are lame. And a lot of them are ugly. The trick is to find one that you love. Suddenly, that kid is the cutest one in the world.

After I was all, "awww, I miss having a kid around and someone to sleep next to!" I got the awesome news that my little cousins Joe and Bekah were going to spend a month down in Florida again.

Crap.

If you guys will remember, Bekah is the awesome little girl who told me I should consider "losing weight and getting eye-tacts" so that maybe I'd get a boyfriend. The first thing she said when she asked me Saturday was, "do you have a boyfriend yet?" When I told her that no, I didn't, she asked what my problem was, as I should've been married by 18, 19 the most. I fear for this child.

Life Lesson: Be careful what you wish for because missing one kid might leave you with some other kid who will ask very uncomfortable questions which you are not prepared to answer. And you may lose your temper and yell, "Bekah if you knock on that door one more time, I'm going to knock on your head!"

Life Lesson Amendment: The gasps of horror from the GC were pretty entertaining.

Life Lesson Clarification: I wouldn't really knock on the kid's head.

Cheese Cream was after me all weekend to take him to see Captain America. And he really meant "take him" like pick him up, drive him, pay for him and then leave him at his doorstep. I was all, "WTF," and he was all, "I'VE GOT DIAPERS TO BUY AND YOU BUY $13 NAIL POLISHES," so he won that argument.

Then I told him that he had a newborn and couldn't go see a movie. He wasn't quite understanding my logic.

He figured we could catch a late-night showing, while the baby was sleeping, which would leave Pink with very little to do. He called on Saturday and said that if Pink took her nap, we'd be on for that night.

I never heard back from him, which probably meant my sister didn't get a nap. Does that mean she was probably a crab ass? Probably. Is it implied that she totally gets to be a crab ass since she pushed a bowling ball out of her vag? Definitely.

Anyhow, Sunday night, Venus and I were sitting around eating ice cream and about to call it a night when Cheese Cream called. I was so tired already, but he was pretty excited about the 10:30 showing of Captain America pleasepleaseplease, so I figured I'm only young once and I have a whole adulthood to be pantsless so what the hey.

Life Lesson: There is no time like the present for pantslessness.

The movie was pretty good. I wasn't blown away, but it was well done, and Captain America was hot, so, y'know. I took some notes during the previews so I could remember to ask you guys WTF.

WTF #1 - The new Thundercats:

CheeseCream: THAT ISN'T LIONO. THEY MADE HIM A PANSY.

Lor: Yep. And they made Cheetara a whore.

WTF #2 - The new Spiderman:

Lor: LOL. They gave him shaggy hair and a skate board! EMO REBOOT.
CheeseCream: I'd rather stare at a white wall and think about all the colors I can paint it.

Yeah, I'm not entirely sure what that means, but now I want to say it all the time. "Fuck you, I'd rather stare at a white wall and think about painting it!" Yep.

I hope you all had great weekends. I promise never to knock on your heads either!

Concluding Life Lesson: Okay, fine. Mondays do pretty much suck.

Lorraine Says: Seriously, That Didn't Hurt.

2011-07-22T11:02:00.011-04:00

Don't even say it, Internet. Don't even.

Because then, if you say it, I'll have to spend the first half of this post explaining away my absence and silence and making up excuses etc. If we just pretend that I've totally been here all along, we won't have to bother with those small details like "where the heck have I been?" and "why does LttP look like an abandoned wasteland?"

Details.

When I last saw you, I was having a mini-blog-existential-crisis. Sometime after that, life got a little busy. Since then, I've been trying to figure out how I should go about updating you. I realize it hasn't even been two full weeks of silence, but it feels even longer than that. Such is the life(posting)cycle of LttP.

And if this blog were a plant, you know.
This would probably be a bad time to mention that I was a biology major.

Included in that "sorry for being silent" post is usually some "being out of blogging practice" observation. Apparently, if I don't over share on the Internet every couple of days, I just forget how to communicate entirely. Thank God sex is more like riding a bike and less like writing a blog.

You can pretend I never said that.

Up next in my usual "sorry for being silent" post would be my "I'm just gonna ramble at you and you should deal with it" proclamation. And then you guys do deal with it, probably so that you don't shatter my self-esteem.

(Sorry for being silent. I'm out of blogging practice. Now I'm going to ramble at you.)

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Speaking of self-esteem, I had a small conversation about self-esteem yesterday. Sara Nipples asked me if I was really hot in my dreams. After she asked me, I realized that even though I'm usually in my dreams (duh) I don't usually see myself in my dreams. WEIRD. I do, however, put outfits together in my dreams quite often, which I think look like the bomb dot com. Then in real life I'm all, "well this looked cool in my dreams," and I end up looking like Claudia Kishi circa the Babysitters Club.

I realize that I just said "the bomb dot com" and referenced the baby-sitters club all in the same paragraph. Please still love me. And blame Sara.

She, by the way, said she's always totally hot in her dreams. I told her that is probably indicative of some amazing self-esteem.

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All of last week I was working on a post about things that I think are sucky but that no one really talks about. It took me a long time, because I wanted to make a list. And if I was making a list, it was obviously going to be a "Seven Things" list. But I didn't really have seven things to say, because when it came down to it, I just really wanted to say one thing: doesn't it suck when you feel all, "holy jeezy, I have to pee sososo bad, rightrightright now!" and you walk all the way to the bathroom internally squishy up your bladder and hoping that no one dare stop and talk to you and then you get there, to your moment of glory and: tinkle.

Not the Niagara Falls you were expecting, not even like an open faucet. Not even a leaky faucet! Just a little tinkle.

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Last week on Tuesday, it was Fetus' birthday. We wanted to celebrate on the weekend, but somehow came to some last minute "let's eat at Olive Garden" plans. I'd just come out of work and was exhausted and lazy but my friends convinced me to still go along.

It was worth it, because between the sleepies and the (two) chocolate martini(s), I was laughing and laughing and laughing until I was yawning and tearing. If that makes sense at all.

Lor: Do you see how tired I am? I'm tearing!

Vye: I don't see it. 

Lor: LOOK. TEARS. I tear so easy.

Vye: I tear up in the morning when I'm brushing my teeth. Like... when I'm leaning over the sink brushing, my eyes tear up.

...

Vye: That doesn't happen to any of you?!

...

Venus: Um... I tear up when I pee after I've held it in for a long time?

Fetus: Those are called tears of joy. 

After this conversation, I realized that I wanted to tell you all about the little tinkle because one of the best things about writing this blog has been the "OMG ME TOO"s I've gotten. Because sometimes you become aware of some part of life, whether it be hair in the boob, or weirdly placed Braille signs or awkward elevator conversations, and you just wonder if you are the only one who has ever experienced, or ever noticed. The best thing you can hear (or read) at that moment is "me too!"

So if any of you tear up while brushing your teeth in the morning, I'll pass that along to Vyelit.

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Meeting other bloggers has been another best thing about this blog so far. I have a group of 10 girls who make me laugh every day. I consider Sara one of my best friends, on or offline. I know I can tell (EX)blogger Stacey anything with no fear of judgement. See? Awesomeness.

Add to that the experience of actually meeting bloggers: Bret, who speedily walked us through Animal Kingdom and thankfully did NOT rape us; Harley, who is about the sweetest, prettiest, funniest girl I've ever met and has DRUNK SNIFFLES; and recently Teacher Girl!

TG suggested we meet up at Morgans Miami for brunch. I brought Penny along because, uh, we always go everywhere together and also because if I was going to die driving into Miami, I didn't want to die alone. I didn't die, though and the food was absolutely delicious. I think Penny took a picture of her berry waffle, but I just dug right into my food, so I have no proof of deliciousness.

We talked with TG about all sorts of things, like life in Miami, how Miami is essentially a fake city, going out in south Florida, blogging, the Chicago summit, etc.

She's another anonymous blogger and it was amazing to hear some "me too"s from her. Even though Penny and Rox both very, very occasionally blog, I'm really the only one of my friends who can claim she "lives in the Internet." It was cool to hear and relate to another consistent blogger. I laughed as she told me that sometimes she forgets the nicknames she picks for people. I nodded as she explained that sometimes she feels she shouldn't blog, but then she goes online to blog about that. I related as she told me about people who knew about her blog, but didn't seem to want to take the time to read it.

Word, Teacher Girl. Word. I've already semi-threatened her so she'll meet up with me again.

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Speaking of meeting bloggers:

Penny and I will be there from the 18th-23rd. Roxanne will be in town, as I previously mentioned, but by coincidence and not design. Not sure if we'll see her there, but we'll try!

Let me know if you'll be around so I can meet you and then you can be all, "wow! You really are socially awkward" and I can be all, "DUH."

I am SO, SO excited guys.

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After brunch last Saturday, TG asked if wanted to roam around some nearby stores. I declined, though, because my older sister Pink had started getting strong contractions more and more frequently and, really, I was supposed to be on baby watching duty while my brother-in-law, Cheese Cream, worked.

So, I went home instead.

And we waited. And waited. And waited.

But finally, she's here. Everyone please meet my Ellie-Bug:

She's closing her eyes, so that's still pretty anonymous, right? Right.

I love her. And I'm really glad she isn't tragic looking, because we all know how I feel about ugly babies.

More on that, though, and on what I've leaned after taking care of my other niece Gailey-Bird for the past 3 days, in an upcoming post. (Probably.)

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Just some final notes:

- Please be reading Childhood Trauma. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm usually posting there. Plus, I fell in love with this last recap. LOVE, Y'ALL.

- My new nickname at work is "lil bit."

- Guys, isn't it awkward when you hit yourself against something and it makes a loud noise and people around you are like, "OH! That must've hurt!" but it didn't really. It just made a loud noise! And you can either a.) pretend and be all, "ow! woe is me!" or b.) say, "no, no. It didn't hurt. Honest." If a, people can then point and laugh at you. If b, people can then assume you are a big fat lying liar.

Rain, sun and a rainbow
Eff you, Florida.

- Remember when everyone was going through like 20 degree weather and I was all LOLHAHAHA, Florida is amazing? Well, and I've mentioned this before, but Florida has four seasons: Hot, Rainy, Really Hot and Not So Hot. While the rest of you have been enjoying summer, south Florida has been enjoying rain. Basically, any time you are stuck indoors, it is hot at balls and muggy. When it's time to go outdoors, it starts pouring.

- I'm exhausted. I didn't even push this baby out, and I'm so physically and mentally and emotionally tired. Incredibly happy, but way in need of a life nap. I'm not even sure of what a life nap consists of, and it sounds dangerous, but I need one. I miss my friends. I miss having no pants on. I miss not having a damn thing to do. Mostly, I don't miss it, but today, on an overcast Friday morning, feeling like a zombie, I miss it.

I miss you guys too.