I Miss My Sky

I have a new favorite word.

Ready?

It's grandiloquence. I love it. Absolutely love it. It means "speech or writing marked by pompous or bombastic diction"--ie, like unnecessarily quoting Shakespeare when you work in the stock market. I'm going to try to use it often...it's perfect for making wild, accusatory statements, such as "That guy was going to buy that Fusion until you had to use your grandiloquence and fucking quote Sophocles, you retard."

Great.

But I digress. It is a beautiful, sunny day in Cleveland, and where am I? I am stuck at work. Hurrah. But I shan't let work bring me down. Nay. I can see the sky from my window, and I guess I can live with that, so long as it doesn't rain any time soon.

At least that's what I'm telling myself.

I'm hungry, but I was running late for work this morning and in my rush I grabbed a cup of Jell-O and a packet of oatmeal. Not exactly sustainable. And I also left my money at home. Fabulous. I get the award for Most Brilliant Morning Decision. I ate the oatmeal at 9 am, no problem. I figured the fiber would hold me over for a few hours, hopefully. Yeah, okay. Those fitness magazines are full of shit. It's been a mere three hours, and I am starving. Well, not starving, but pretty damn hungry. I could go for some pizza or high carb-ed up pasta covered in a creamy, fatty, yummy cheese sauce. Maybe an Alfredo of some sort. Yummmmm. Delish.

I'm currently sipping on a bottle of water, trying to put off eating my Jell-O as long as I can. It'd be one thing if I did this you know, like once in a while, but nooo...I do this all the time. As we all know, I'm not exactly a morning person, and it takes me a while to get motivated. I usually jump in the shower and have just enough time to get out the door and get to work on time (-ish). Which would raise the question as to why I don't get all this stuff ready the night before. Good question. Very good question. I don't exactly have an answer for that.

(A bit later...)

Hmm...I ate my Jell-O. I couldn't help it! I'm sure the people at Lakewood think I'm anorexic or something, which is actually pretty unlikely seeing as I'm a size 8, but whatever. It doesn't look good when you eat oatmeal and peanut butter and crackers and Jell-O all the time. It makes me feel like a starving European supermodel, only shorter and not as skinny. If this is all they eat, then I get why Naomi Campbell is such a monster bitch.


Well, I won't bore you with any more grandiloquence (love that word!), so...I'll leave you with a parting final thought:

"this is the garden:colours come and go, frail azures fluttering from night's outer wing strong silent greens silently lingering, absolute lights like baths of golden snow. This is the garden:pursed lips do blow upon cool flutes within wide glooms,and sing (of harps celestial to the quivering string) invisible faces hauntingly and slow.

This is the garden. Time shall surely reap and on Death's blade lie many a flower curled, in other lands where other songs be sung; yet stand They here enraptured,as among the slow deep trees perpetual of sleep some silver-fingered fountain steals the world."

--this is the garden:colours come and go, ee cummings
(taken from"Tulips and Chimneys", 1923)

Ocean Eyes

It's Chuck Norris Thursday. Let's start the day with a Chuck Norris-ism, shall we?

"Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits."
(Taken from http://www.chucknorrisfacts.com)


Okay, now that we got Chuck out of the way, let's get on to other serious topics at hand for today.

I am bored. And tired. My contacts are dry, and I can't think of anything funny to write about.

Here's some random facts:

*The house fly hums in the middle octave key of F.

*Only one person in two billion will live to be 116 or older.

*Hummingbirds are the only animals that can fly backwards.

*Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room during a dance.

*The original name for butterfly was flutterby.

*On average, 100 people choke to death on ballpoint pens every year.

*Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing.

*If Barbie were life-size, her measurements would be 39-23-33. She would stand seven feet, two inches tall.

*Nutmeg is extremely poisonous if injected intravenously.

*Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating are already married.


Now go and share this completely useless information with the world. XO

Live Your Life

In my ripe old age of 23 and a half, I have learned some very important life lessons. I will share a few with you, in hopes that you too will reach self-enlightenment.

Lashawn's Life Lessons:

*Wearing white pants is usually a love/hate situation. I have found that while I love white pants and how cool and summery they look, they are well, duh, white, and entail practicing a great deal of caution when one is wearing them. I usually just drink water all day and eat after I change out of them.

*When a guy in a minivan honks at you, don't take it as a compliment. Odds are that while he is a father, he probably has a plurality of children. Don't go there. One is okay, two is a maybe, but more than that...he needs a nanny, not a booty call.

*When you get into a "friends with benefits" kind of situation, one of you is not going to want to remain "just friends". Trust me. Sex has a tendency to blur the lines between love and friends. It usually ends badly.

*Eating that extra french fry is worth it. You can worry about the fat on your hips later (and I've learned that curves are a lot sexier than being able to see your hip bones).

*Be aware that when you wear a push-up bra and a low-necked top that when guys are talking to you or looking at you, they are not talking to/looking at your face. Unless you are flat-chested or they are gay.

*Although you may think that history is cool and you're undoubtably excited about going to Colonial Williamsburg, please note that most people are not going to know what you're talking about, nor will they think it is cool and exciting.

*Chocolate may not mend a broken heart, but it can soothe it a bit. And chocolate tastes good.

*Children are good at making you feel better, even if they don't know what's wrong. A hug from Nicky can fix anything.

*Even if you don't know what you're doing, being confident makes all the difference. Self-assurance is a powerful thing.

*Whoever invented lip gloss is a freaking genius.

Sunday Best

Ah, another obligatory list. Sundays are good for listing things.

Sunday's Mix:

"Boston", Augustana, (All The Stars And Boulevards)

"Mouthwash", Kate Nash, (Made Of Bricks)

"Lazy Sunday", The Lonely Island, (Incredibad)

"Don't Let Me Fall", Lenka, (Lenka)

"Baby I'm a Fool", Melody Gardot, (My One and Only Thrill)

"A Beautiful Mess", Jason Mraz, (We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things.)

"Sitting, Waiting, Wishing", Jack Johnson, (In Between Dreams)

"Just a Ride", Jem, (Finally Woken)

"Extraordinary Machine", Fiona Apple, (Extraordinary Machine)

"Sympathique", Pink Martini, (Sympathique)

"Shine", Anna Nalick, (Shine-EP)

"Hello/Goodbye", Erin McCarley, (Love, Save The Empty)

"Stop This Train", John Mayer, (Continuum)

"Creep", Radiohead, (Pablo Honey)

"Everybody's Changing", Keane, (Hopes and Fears)

"Comfort Eagle", CAKE, (Comfort Eagle)

"She's Got a Way", Billy Joel, (Greatest Hits, Vol. 1)

"Under Control", Parachute, (Losing Sleep)

Enjoy your Sunday, and maybe give some of these artists a quick listen! XO

Do You Remember

Hmm.


Nostalgia. It's a funny thing.

I found a bottle of body spray (Bath and Body Works Sweet Pea) in a pile of junk in my room. One whiff of it brought back sooo many memories.

Like bam.

I was suddenly back in the math hall bathroom at St. Joe's, doing my makeup before we all went to the mall during our study hall. My friends and I loved the smell of sweet peas, and I think most of us wore that fragrance a good chunk of those four years.

Thinking of that made me flip through the mental catalog of memories from back then--some of them are a bit faded, but others are still as vivid as when it first happened. I remember dancing to Li'l Jon in Mrs. Knittel's room before Theology class started ("From the windoooows to the wall!"), breaking the crucifix (behind the scenes) in the freshman Theology classroom and putting Jesus back together with Sticky-Tac (I'm sure I'm going to hell for that one), sagging our skirts because at first we thought it looked cool and then out of necessity because we had four years worth of 3 for a $1 gigantic chocolate chip cookies at lunch...Standing in the echo circle after school and yelling dirty words and cracking up hysterically.

I actually got a little sad, because I only talk to a few girls from St. Joe's now...I know it's been five years since we graduated, and people grow apart, but...Those were some of the greatest times in my life (how can you top that choir trip to Disney World junior year or getting drunk on that nasty plum brandy with Leah and watching American Pie over and over til we almost peed our pants from laughing?), and once you enter the more "structured" adult world, things change. People grow up, go to college, get jobs. Some of us get married, some of us have kids, and then there are others who do some of these things and just tumble endlessly through life, not really having a fixed point in the world. It takes those people a while to figure out their purpose in life.

I think the hardest part of growing up is realizing that the image of adulthood you had as a child isn't always going to be what you actually achieve. I'm trying to reconcile the dream with the reality myself, but it's hard to shake off the bright-eyed idealism you had as a teenager. It's all too easy to become jaded and say that you were dealt a bad hand--I could easily say that myself, seeing as how I got pregnant right out of high school, goofed off so that I had to go to summer school and not graduate with the rest of my class (I got my diploma from the school secretary. That is classy.)...Got dumped by Nicky's dad seven months into being pregnant, had Nicky at 19, floated in and out of college several times without any real concrete idea as to what I wanted to be...Got back with Nicky's dad, got dumped again when Nicky was 10 months old, had to work 40 hours or more a week at Burger King to try to cover everything because his dad didn't pay his child support.

But it wouldn't be rational for me to sit there and give up. That's not who I am, that's not how I was raised. My parents could have thrown me out at 18, but they told me they'd like me to live at home until I finish my undergrad degree. I quit Burger King, got a much better job at the dealership doing something I enjoy with people I enjoy...I finally decided I want to become either a family lawyer or a child advocacy lawyer, and am going to get back into the swing of things this fall when I start school again. Nicky's dad still doesn't pay child support or come around, but I've gotten over that and still bust my ass working 40 hours or more, six days a week. I think it'll make Nicky appreciate things a bit more when he gets older. Maybe not, but I'd like to hope so.

I used to think that life is like water--you try to grab it with your hands, but it just runs through your fingers, completely unaffected. It's frustrating, but you have to realize that life goes on, just like the water...You can either keep trying to grab at the water or just let it go. I kept my sense of humor and grabbed a fish tank--because you can't catch it with your hands, but you can with a container. That, my dears, is the secret. Life keeps going no matter how hard we try to control it, but you can adapt to it and make the most of it.


Huh. Maybe I should write a book about all this deep Zen-like wisdom. Call it Musings of Life Over McDonald's. Could be a bestseller.

[A big thanks/shoutout goes out to Nashe from Where Did All The Pecans Go? (http://yourcookiejar.blogspot.com) for inspiring me through her last entry. Thanks!]

Force of Nature (Me in a Nutshell of Sorts)

So...I have a tiny confession to make. I'm terrified that my entries are not up to par lately...I actually had a dream that someone left a comment saying my blog has sucked lately! I have a fear of failure, so I'm going to try to liven things up today.


Firstly, it rained again today, for most of the day.


And secondly, I'm suffering from a bit of writer's block and I think I'll do a little "About Me" today, just to make myself a little more "real", if you get what I mean. More personal, I guess.

Me, In 9 Paragraphs Or Less:

I was born one month late, on December 17, 1985 (making me 23)--I'm always late for everything and I think it all began there--in Cleveland, Ohio. I am the oldest in my immediate family (I have a younger brother who is 17), but I have an older half-brother on my dad's side who is 37. He's married and has a 2 year old daughter--he is the assistant men's coach at the University of Washington. Yayyy!

My favorite food is macaroni and cheese, followed by tacos, nachos, and chocolate cake. I think I'm a bit boring because my favorite drink is whole milk. My favorite alcoholic beverage is a margarita, followed by a good 'Tini of some sort. Chocolate is my weakness, my Kryptonite. Double Stuf Oreos also fall into that category.

I was a Catholic schoolgirl all the way from St. Ignatius of Antioch Elementary to St. Joseph Academy, the latter being an all-girls college prep high school. I actually loved school, and was a good student (random fact about me: I learned to read when I was 3 and a half. I was told that I leaned over my dad's shoulder and read the headline of the newspaper. I then proceeded to tell him, in depth, about the article.), but I enjoyed having fun a bit more than academics. I could have gone to Columbia University, but I goofed off my senior year.

My favorite colors are hot pink, blue, red, and black. I love glitzy, glamorous things, but I rarely have the chance to wear anything like that. I love writing, and singing, and I once won 4th place in a writing competition in 8th grade. I hate musicals, but I adore comedies. I looove to laugh, and I try to find the humor in everything. I'm an incurable optimist, and I always believe that no matter how bad things are, there's always someone who is doing worse than you.

(My older brother Raphael, my sister-in-law Charlene, and my niece Zaya)

My favorite movie of all time is Aladdin, which is kind of funny if you think about it, but I just love that movie! I love all the Disney classics. I also love The Departed, Dodgeball, Wall-E, and Anchorman. Morgan Freeman is my favorite actor, and I don't really have a favorite actress, but I really like Anne Hathaway.

I always use the Oxford comma, and it bothers me when people don't use the correct punctuation when they write--I also get irritated by misspelled words and incorrect grammar (English was my best subject). I'm short, the shortest one in my family, coming up to a meager 5'1"--my brothers range from 6'0" to 6'3", while my dad is 6'4" and my mom is 5'3". There's just something not fair about that...Nicky is 3'5", so he's on his way to being taller than me too.

(My little brother CJ and me)

I'm unbelievably clumsy...I'll trip over nothing when I walk, and I'm insanely unathletic. I like to exercise, though, and I love Pilates, lifting weights, and running. I have a tendency to get a little lazy, and I'm not a regular runner, but I can run a mile in 11 minutes, which I like to pretend is impressive. I will treat myself with a high-calorie treat because 1.)I believe I shouldn't have to give up the things I love just to look good, and 2.)I bust my ass working out, thus deserving a treat.

I'm loud, I love to speak my mind and will stick up staunchly for my beliefs...I also love to be random and say the craziest shit. I also swear like a sailor, though I try (unsuccessfully) to watch what I say. I can't live without my iPod (hot pink) or my son. I'm half Cherokee-American (my dad is almost 100%), which makes me wonder why I never tan--although the rest of me is Irish, German, and Italian, which might explain why not.

(Nicky and me)

If I could sing a duet with anyone, it'd be John Mayer, Usher, or Mariah Carey. If I could be any actress, I'd be Megan Fox. If I could live anywhere, I'd move to Manhattan in a heartbeat, though the Cape Cod area is a close second. I can't imagine living anywhere without a lake or ocean or a river. I have to be near water!

My favorite sport is basketball, and my favorite team is the Cleveland Cavaliers. I love roller coasters, and I have ridden 16 of the 18 coasters at Cedar Point. I'm afraid of heights and squirrels freak me out a bit...I want to go to Sydney, Australia and see a freaking kangaroo.

Shh. Just Go With It

Psst. I have a secret.

Well, not really. I just wanted you to think I did. Silly me!

It's just another rainy and cloudy day here in Lashawn-land. I'm starting to feel like Eeyore with my own personal clouds above me. Damn this rain! It's enough to drive a girl crazy...well, crazier.

But I digress.

I'd like to give a HUGE thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou to all you lovely, wonderful people who find this blog entertaining enough to follow and comment on! You rock--I give you all a round of The Desperado (as soon as I figure out what to put in it besides Tequila and maybe Tabasco sauce)!

And I just read that Gidget, known for Taco Bell fame, just died at 15. Yo quiero Taco Bell, indeed. Chihuahuas are cute, but they freak me out a little bit. I like my dogs medium-sized and furry (Shelties are my favorite breed, followed by Beagles).

Lady Gaga also wore a coat made entirely out of Kermit the Frog heads. Definitely strange, but that's Gaga for you. Never does it just halfway. Check it out:

I'm currently listening to iTunes. I'm liking that new Kid Cudi song, "I Poke Her Face"--it's catchy, and I think Lady Gaga is brilliant, so...It's one of my new faves.

I can't believe we're at the halfway point of summer! School will be starting soon, tans will fade, random romances will end...Pretty soon it'll be nothing but chunky, comfy sweaters and skinny jeans tucked into a pair of boots...and after that, big poofy coats and Arctic sub-zero temperatures. I can't believe we're about a season and a half away from winter. Blahhhhhh. I'm pretty mixed when it comes to Cleveland winters--it's an El Nino year, so it should be warm and rainy.

Hey, kind of like this summer. Coincidence? Hmm.

Gravity Rides Everything

Quick question: How many entries have I had where it rained or was raining? I think I lost count.


It's raining. Again. For the eleventy billionth time this summer.

You know what though? For all my bitching, I actually like rain. I think it's pretty, especially when everything's all green and fresh-looking, like the city had been put through the wash cycle with Tide with Bleach. I just like it a little better when we've had nothing but sunshine and warmth for at least a week.


I'm bored. Earlier I came up with the awesome idea of inventing my own drink. I want to call it The Desperado (you have to say it like there's italics automatically)...It just sounds cool. I have no idea what liquor I'd actually put in it, but I think with a name like The Desperado, it should taste badass, with a slight hint of danger and loneliness. It'd be a drink that Dirty Harry would drink. It'd be something Chuck Norris would order after kicking some ass. It'd be the epitome of awesomeness.

It should have its own aftershave.

The Mixed Tape

I decided that since music is an integral part of my life, I'd share a few of my favorite songs from my iPod with you.

The Hits:

"Lovesick Mistake", Erin McCarley (Love, Save the Empty)

"Brown Eyes", Lady Gaga (The Fame)

"Gravity", Sara Bareilles, (Little Voice)

"Folding Chair", Regina Spektor, (Far)

"The Show", Lenka, (Lenka)

"Navy Taxi", Kate Nash, (Foundations-EP)

"Slow Dancing In A Burning Room", John Mayer, (Continuum)

"Be OK", Ingrid Michaelson, (Be OK)

"That's The Way Love Goes", Janet Jackson, (Janet.)

"Upside Down", Jack Johnson, (Sing-a-Longs and Lullabies for the Film Curious George)

"Oxford Comma", Vampire Weekend, (Vampire Weekend)

"I Turn My Camera On", Spoon, (Gimme Fiction)

"Beat It", Michael Jackson, (Thriller)

"Yes Please", Muse, (Hullabaloo Soundtrack)

"I'm On A Boat", The Lonely Island, (Incredibad)

"Atlantic", Keane, (Under the Iron Sea)

"I Gotta Feeling", Black Eyed Peas, (The E.N.D.)

"Poker Face", Lady Gaga, (The Fame)


I could go on for ever, I love music that much, but I won't bore you with the full list. Feel free to share your top songs (I'm always open to one I haven't heard)!

It Don't Matter to the Sun

Point me to the closest meteorologist so I can smack him/her. And ask for my money back.

This summer sucks. I know I've said it before, and I'll say it again. It sucks. This morning I awoke to dark clouds, rain, and 59 degrees. 59 degrees. On July 18. What exactly is wrong with this picture?

I know I said I'm not big on sub-Saharan temperatures, and I'm not. I'd just like plenty of sunshine and temperatures in the low 80's. Is that too much to ask???

But I digress. On a lighter (but still cold) note, the yum-fest at Melt (paramount mecca of grilled cheese) did not go down as planned. My pal Tricia and myself arrived at Melt, eagerly awaiting a huge sandwich full of cheesy goodness and potential nirvana, when we saw the line. I'd been warned by a co-worker ahead of time (Thursday) that there would be a wait. So we waited for like fifteen minutes, and no one came to seat us. We see this "oh I'm a starving artist but since I'm starving I decided to get a slightly more sub par job just so I could eat" kind of guy standing at the front counter, and we just assumed that you just paid your bill there.

Oh, no. We amble on over to the counter, curious as to why we hadn't been escorted to a table yet. Tricia asks him if we're supposed to give our names. Starving Artist Guy says yes, you do. Tricia asks him if he was going to tell us that since we'd been standing by the "Please Wait To Be Served" sign for like fifteen minutes, and she said you had to have seen us. SAG gets slightly miffed and a bit defensive and says that he just got there, he didn't see us. SAG is a liar, he'd been at the counter when we'd gotten in line, but I sense a potential fight about to go down, so I tell him that it's okay and ask how long the wait is. He says an hour to about an hour and a half. No one waits that long for cheesy bliss, no matter how much you love grilled cheese.

(In case you're slightly curious, here is a link to Melt's homepage. Look at the menu. You know you want to. Kind of. Maybe. A little. http://www.meltbarandgrilled.com)

So we hustle out of there, trying to decide where we're gonna eat, since we are both starving. We decide Harry Buffalo, because the last time we went there we had this totally kickass pizza. Tricia calls up her husband Josh, and we have a grand old time at Harry Buffalo over pizza and beer (I hate beer, so I had a Sprite) and a vast assortment of appetizers. I think I gained five pounds last night.

We went back to Tricia's mom's house, Nicky in tow, to make some crazy "pimp cups" that we're going to try to sneak in to the Indians game tomorrow. Nicky and Taylor (Tricia's 2 year old daughter) made some crazy-looking cups--glitter glue, pom-poms, stickers, and random colored feathers. I'll have to post some pictures in my next post so you can see their amazing artwork.

Ughhh. I am freezing. Someone turned the air on--dude, you can crank the AC all you want, but it isn't going to make it any hotter outside. Why be in denial? Throw on a sweatshirt, turn off the air conditioner, and call it a day.

Crazy

I was sitting here, staring blankly out the window here at Lakewood (as I quite frequently do), and I began to compile a mental list of things that I miss from the '90s. The '90s were a good time, albeit a few missteps (grunge, home perms, scrunchies, etectera), and I do miss them at times. Anyone who lived their glory days in the 90s will agree. Heartily, I'm sure.

Things I Enjoyed (And Didn't) And Miss From The '90s:

The Fresh Prince of Bel Air

Marky Mark (without him, there would be no Mark Wahlberg)

Full House

Janet Jackson

Family Matters

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Clarissa Explains It All

New Kids on the Block

Gak

Ren and Stimpy

TRL (for those of you who may not know what that is, Total Request Live)

Baywatch

TLC (the group, not the channel)

Tupac

Puff Daddy

Vanilla Ice (integral to the '90s)

Pogs

Beanie Babies

Tamogotchis

Doug

Boyz II Men

Beavis and Butthead

Married With Children

Those bracelets you slapped on your wrists

Those Nike shoes you had to pump up (what the hell were those called? I remember wanting a pair and my mom saying no.)

The New Mickey Mouse Club (Justin Timberlake, JC Chasez, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Keri Russell...)

The WB

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Fidelity

Animaniacs

Freakazoid

Pinky and the Brain

Austin Powers

Spice Girls

Xena, Warrior Princess



If you're suddenly filled with memories of the '90s, please feel free to share.

Crack The Shutters

It's raining. Again. (Sarcastic yaaaayyyy.)

It's very freaking early, and as you all know, I loathe early mornings. Detest them. I was sooo tempted to just roll over, pull my blanket over my head, and doze on, continuing to dream about being on a boat with T-Pain (anyone who has heard that song should be cracking up right now) and Thomas the Tank Engine (watched it right before I went to sleep with Nicky). Damn this working shit. Really.

My good pal Kenny just brought me a delicious morning treat of fresh Cini-Minis from our local BK (Burger King for those not in the know), and though I'm not hungry yet, I certainly appreciate the gesture of goodwill. I will probably eat them a bit later. Like elevenish, because if I eat this early, I'll either A.) get sick, or B.) pass out at my desk, or C.) both. I'm still somewhat in a sleep-clouded fog, and I'm hoping it's going to be a slow news day today at the Lakewood store, because I am exhausted. I sure could use a Subaru snooze today.

I'm reading the morning news, and I like this quote from President Obama: "Our kids can't all aspire to be the next LeBron or Lil Wayne. I want them aspiring to be scientists and engineers, doctors and teachers, not just ballers and rappers. I want them aspiring to be a Supreme Court justice. I want them aspiring to be president of the United States."

Indeed. I think that kids should want to grow up to be scientists, because hey, science is cool even though I still don't know how to balance formulas in Chemistry, and I once cried when I couldn't figure out the mole during a Chem test, I always liked setting stuff on fire and playing with chemicals. That is the best part of Chemistry class, hands down. I dreamed of wanting to be a singer, to be the next Mariah Carey when I was little, but I also wanted to be a ballerina (until I realized I'm clumsy and can't dance), a doctor (until I realized that I'm just not good in math or math-related sciences), a teacher (until I realized I don't exactly have patience with children outside of my own), and now I want to be a lawyer because hey, I'm pretty good at forming sound arguments (except with certain boys, and then my logic and coherency embarrassingly fly out the window) and I like the whole court scene. Personally, I believe kids deserve a chance to dream, whether it be aspiring to win a Grammy or the Nobel Peace Prize.

Hmmm...You know what's a funny word? Gubernatorial. It makes me giggle a little on the inside.

It's going to be a pretty random day. Pretty random indeed. I wouldn't have it any other way.

No sir and/or ma'am.

Oh What A Day

Things that suck:

My abdominal muscles are hurting.

I have a mild tension headache.

The day receptionist is a lazy fool.

I'm sitting across the hall from a guy I am slightly crazy about.

Said guy is an idiot.

It's hot outside.

Our air conditioner in the office isn't working, hence it is hot in here.

I'm hungry.

I'm super broke...Need a way to get some sweet moolah in my life.

I'm kind of tired.

The phones won't stop ringing.

I have two hours til I'm out of work.

I have to work ten hours tomorrow.


Things that don't suck as much:

I get out of work in two hours.

I smell really nice (Velvet Tuberose, courtesy of Bath and Body Works).

I have a great book waiting at home (Looking for Alaska, John Green--nothing beats a good reread).

I'm going out to eat after work tonight.

Nicky will be home waiting for me.

Tricia makes my day go by faster.

Hang On Little Tomato

Hmmm.

It's cloudy outside, which means rain. Blahhhh. It's muggy and sticky and my hair is threatening anarchy...I had to wrangle it up into a ponytail. You gotta show your hair who's boss or else they'll run all over you.

I'm bored. I should be working but I'm bored...there's a rogue fly in my office again, just flying around and being gross. I freaking hate flies. They make me sick (figuratively, not literally), with all their landing on poop and then my food. Yuck.

What to write about today???? Hmmm...

I could write about my son, since I've barely talked about him...Nicky (Nicholas Christopher) is four years old and probably my bestest friend in the entire world. I had him when I was 19, and we're super close, since his idiot dad ran off when I was 20 and Nicky was 10 months old.

We are more like friends right now, rather than just simply mommy and son. We like to watch movies and read books (his favorite book right now is Green Eggs and Ham), and he's as funny as I am, which is always awesome. How horrible would it be to have a serious child? It'd be terrible!

It's becoming ominously dark outside...If it storms, the dealership's going to get struck by lightning. It happens every time there's a bad storm--the power goes out for like thirty seconds and then the emergency generator kicks in.

I'm hungry! I have some peanut butter and crackers but I really want a cheeseburger or some fried ravioli. Stupid diet...I worked out yesterday and am achy today, but in that good kind of achy where you like feeling the pain--maybe I'm just a Sadist. I'm trying to lose like ten pounds and get down to 126, but I love chocolate milkshakes and cake just a little too much...it also doesn't help that Baskin Robbins is next door to the dealership. I need stronger willpower. I need that guy (Dr. Bob?) who helps Oprah get her diet on. I need Dr. Phil. I need that mean chick from The Biggest Loser (Jillian Richards).

Exciting foodie news: I'm going to Melt, which is this panultimate mecca of grilled cheese sandwiches, on Friday. I heard the sandwiches are huge, but I love grilled cheese, so...I'll keep you all posted. Should be yummy and all around delish.

Thanks again for all the feedback! I'd love to hear what topics you all think I should write about (my favorite thing to do is rant about some inane topic), and how I can improve this little slice of heaven I've got here. I'm thinking about ranting about leg warmers and bees tomorrow, but we'll see what direction my mind wanders into tomorrow...XO!

The Fame

"I operate from a place of delusion--that's what The Fame's all about. I used to walk down the street like I was a fucking star. I want people to walk around delusional about how great they can be--and then to fight so hard for it every day that the lie becomes the truth."--Lady Gaga

I have a deep, dark secret: I want to be famous. I want to be a F-ing star.

I'm an awesome singer--I sound a little like Kelly Clarkson--and my dream has always been to be a singer. I was going to try out for American Idol, but I'm not really big on getting discovered that way. I want to have to work for it, to have to save up my money for studio time, get rejected...all that stuff that makes you want it a little more.

And if I was famous? It's be F-ing fantastic, seriously. I want the glitter and the diamonds and the paparazzi in my face so that I can throw my Starbucks beverage at them, the whole nine yards. I want to wear Versace and have impossibly shiny, unfrizzed hair that looks like I spent a million dollars on it (because, duh, I did) and huge Chanel sunglasses and a Louis Vuitton purse...I want to drive a Porsche 911 Turbo in fire engine red, bumping to some crazy hip-hop and just be unbelievably fabulous.

And just because, I'd party like I was famous, rub elbows with Diddy and Gaga, but never, never become friends with Paris Hilton. That's just asking for a stint in rehab, in my opinion. I just want my public life to be like one huge debauched music video, as crazy as that sounds. I want to wear expensive lip gloss that doesn't make your mouth sticky and wear fake eyelashes without looking like a weirdo for wearing fake eyelashes in public. I want to always look fabulous when I go to the store to buy my ranch Doritos and Evian (when you're famous, Aquafina doesn't cut it anymore) and call people who I hated in my ordinary life and be like "ha, who's famous now??" and look super hot so that all the stupid boys from my life PF (Pre Fame) would be like "well I sure screwed up by not staying with her". I want a Lashawn Barbie, like freaking Hannah Montana and a Lashawn backpack. I want kids to sing my songs into a hairbrush in front of their mirrors in their rooms, I want kids to want to dress like me and look up to me and I want everyday people to be amazed by my glamorous exploits. I want to chuck normalacy out the window. I. Want. To. Be. The. Shit.

It would be, for lack of a better word, great.

And I want to write a novel and get it published. I want to write Young Adult books, because it's so much easier to write about the angst of teenagedom and I like reading YA books. I have another deep, dark secret: I read Twilight. And liked it. But I didn't see the movie, because most movies never do the book its due justice.

I'm currently into a writer named John Green. He wrote the YA novels Looking for Alaska (a great book, one of my new faves), An Abundance of Katherines, and Paper Towns. I love books--it's kind of like music, I can't really imagine life without books.

But even books bring me back to my addiction to fame. I want to make an indelible mark on the world, and if I do it through music or written word, it would be awesome. I always wanted to do something big, something that would make a considerable difference...If I don't become a singer, if I don't get a book published, I want to be a lawyer and do good that way.

And if that doesn't work out, I can make my indelible mark through my son: raise him right and he could change the world.

A Little Thank You

I'd like to thank all you lovely, lovely people who checked out and subscribed to my blog! You guys rock and thanks for reading! XO

I'm too busy to write a full-length entry today, but I promise to tomorrow!

This Is Somewhere

I'm starting to think that this may quite possibly be the worst summer ever.

Well, maybe not EVER, but definitely for this year. Let me illustrate to you via word-agry (You like that? It's like imagery, only instead of pictures, you use words. I know, I know--I'm a F-ing genius...watch out Webster, you're not the only one with an endless supply of seemingly made up words.)...Okay, it's July 11, and it has reached 80 degrees like only six or seven times. That I'm not complaining about. I don't particularly enjoy sub-Saharan temperatures, thank you. No, my problem is the rain. I feel like freaking Noah, except without the ark (and don't get any ideas up there, Big Guy. I'm not handy, I'm not D.I.Y., and I prefer my wild animals to be behind safety enclosures...)...it's ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous.

I barely have the slightest hint of a golden glow--for me, that isn't too unusual. I'm pretty much pasty pale year-round, which is another post altogether, but by July I have a bit of a tan going on. This year? Nothing.

But I digress. It's stopped raining for now, and the sun is attempting to make a fashionably late appearance.

* * *

It's 1:39 pm and I have a double cheeseburger from McDonald's, which can only mean two things: 1.)I'm hungry, and 2.)It's bitchin' time. I'd like to call this Mid-Day Musings Over A Double Cheeseburger. Come, sit.

Okay. I don't like pickles and onions and mustard on my double cheeseburgers. I think those things are pretty gross as individuals (think Sarah Palin or Rush Limbaugh), but put them together and they are disgusting as a whole (the entire GOP). I just get ketchup (or catsup, if you're one of those weird people who spells ketchup as catsup), and if I'm in the mood or not on a diet (which I currently am, which I am sort of breaking at the moment), mayonnaise. Pretty uncomplicated. I'd like to think I'm an uncomplicated person.

Pretty easy, right? How hard could that be to screw up? Ketchup, and quite possibly mayo. It isn't rocket science. You don't need to go to MIT or write a treatise on the toppings of a burger. No. It's simplicity at its best, right? Wrong. Wrongwrongwrongwrong. Those idiots put everything on my double cheeseburger. I didn't buy it; I'm at work and one of my car salesman amigos purchased it for me because I'm just so damn awesome. Perhaps he forgot to mention the only ketchup, perhaps they just screwed up. Anything is possible. However, instead of letting it ruin my already exhausting, waterlogged trainwreck of a day, I just took the top (in the burger business they call that the crown) off my dysfunctional cheeseburger and scraped it (including most of the cheese) all off. I ate it sans crown, because I'm pretty adaptable and mostly hungry and desperate.

I'm partially sated for now, which brings me to my next musing. I have to make a grand entrance at my best friend's son's 4th birthday party tonight. I'm pretty tired, and I'd love to take a nap, but alas, I am a good friend and am attending, albeit reluctantly, with my son Nicky in tow. It'll be a zoo, but I get off at 6, and the party starts at 3, which means by the time I get ready it'll be close to 7. Most of the toddling offenders should be gone by then. Let's all cross our fingers for Lashawn, okay?

I'd really appreciate it.

Another Day

It's Friday, and I am sooo tired.

I work from 8 am to 6 pm on Fridays and Saturdays, and you'd think I'd be used to getting up at the asscrack of dawn, seeing as how I've been doing this for about a year and a half...But then again, I never got used to getting up at 6:30 am when I was in school, and that was 12 years worth of 6:30 ams. Oh well. I guess some people are crazy morning people who frolick about in the morning sunshine, singing Disney-esque songs as they skip all la-la-la like down the sidewalk with the sparrows, and then there are people like me, who pretty much live their lives like rock stars, staying up all night and then sleeping away a good chunk of daytime. I used to spend a huge amount of my summer vacations past passed out until 2 pm.

Those were the good days, my friend. I never realized how good I had it until I had to get a job my junior year of high school!


But back to now (as Garth Algar from the cinematic classic Wayne's World would say, "Live in the now!"), and the having to wake up at a very unreasonable hour. It is a very sunny and warm, dare I say hot, day in the city of Cleveland. It's supposed to reach a pleasant (note the sarcasm) and balmy 88 degrees...When I roll out of here later today, the air will be rife with mugginess, and I will be a walking pillar of sweat and frizz when I arrive at my equally sticky, un-air conditioned house.

Yesssssss.

And yuck. There's another fly in the office, flying around being all flyish and gross. I wish I could be gangsta like President Obama and just be like bam and kill it...but not with my hand, 'cause that would be gross, and I would most likely puke.

Puking is not a choice option, especially when it's hotter than hell outside. I opted instead for opening the office door, which will undoubtably bring hot air into the office, but hopefully will inspire the aforementioned fly to go out and enjoy the glorious day.

A Story to Tell Your Friends

Ugh.

There is a fly in my office, buzzing around and thinking disgusting fly thoughts...I have the window open, hoping he'll get the hint and roll the F out of here before he meets a size 8 flip-flop, but NOOOO, he's just grossing me out and occasionally landing on my head.

Yuck.


I get out of here in an hour, hallelujah, and then I'm off to a hard night of sitting on my bum and watching crappy network TV with my dad. Yes. I know you're jealous, I would be too. Usually some cake is involved, Pepperidge Farm by standard, but the flavor varies. Me and my dad love us some good cake.

As I'm currently rocking out to Duffy and writing this trivial drivel, I can't help but wonder who in their right mind would want to read about my boring life...but you never know, right? What may be boring to me may be an intriguing, compelling read for some. I'll just write, and hopefully someone will read and want more.

Here's to hoping.