Butterflies and Hurricanes

Cat's In The Cradle

2011-12-27T03:58:00.001-05:00

Merry Christmas to everyone! I hope everyone had an excellent day :)

Nicky had the best Christmas ever, in his exact words. He was especially excited about Mario Kart for his DSi and his Night at the Museum 2 DVD. Night at the Museum 1 and 2 are two of his favorite movies, and so we watched the second one tonight. He also got a few traditional little kid board games, Cootie (who hasn't played Cootie as a little one?), Ants in My Pants, and Monopoly Jr. He is pretty good at Monopoly Jr., he beat me on his first try. He even got confident enough to give me advice during the game on not using all my money to buy all the properties, haha. That advice naturally turned into a six year old's version of gloating once I announced that I was out of money and he won.

I'm not exactly sure when Nicky grew up so much, but I really like being able to actually hang out with my son and understand him and get to know his personality and what he's like. He's actually pretty funny and awesome...a lot like his mama :)

Rave On

2011-12-20T01:07:00.001-05:00

My birthday was this past Saturday. I am officially 26...and looking at what I just wrote, who the hell in their right mind would want to be unofficially 26? Perhaps a crazy person...yes, only a crazy person would want to go from 25 (which we all know is a whole 'nother ballgame) and pretend to be 26. The only way I would do it is if there was a large monetary compensation, or something equally awesome.

Like, I don't know, maybe this badass pegasus.

I'd consider it then.

But seriously, I'm 26. Four more years to 30. Ouch. I suppose 26 is a grand achievement. If I lived in the 1600s, like in Jamestown or whatever, I'd have like ten years left in my life before I died a horrible death from cholera or smallpox. I'd have 54516561 kids by now, all named after virtues and kings and whatever, married to a guy named James Blacksmitherson and living in a leaky shack shittily constructed out of logs and mud and no windows. I'd be all about sewing and hanging out with my equally fabulous friends, Rebecca and Prudence. We'd have the best gray bonnets in the entire village. The bitches would be jealous.

Oh yes. They would be jealous.

But anyway. Christmas is coming. Tres exciting, no? I am proud to announce that I finished my shopping for Nicky an entire week ahead of schedule. I usually am rushing around on the 23rd, hating myself for waiting until the last minute. This year, I finished on the 16th. I think that warrants a high five...so I totally just gave myself one. (I usually do this so that I am not left hanging, by well, myself. Denying someone a high five is such an asshole move, and I am not an asshole.) Perhaps this early shoppage is a part of turning 26? Perhaps.

Or I just remembered to do it early this year.

A Falling Through

2011-09-22T04:15:00.000-04:00

This makes me sad.

The state of Georgia executed a man tonight who most likely was innocent of the crime he was convicted, yet the biggest topic on my Facebook news feed is the new layout. In my opinion Troy Davis outweighs Facebook's new layout any day.

There was so much outrage on the social network when Casey Anthony was acquitted of murdering her two year old daughter based solely on reasonable doubt, yet we all knew she was guilty. Anyone familiar with the basics of Davis' case knows that his entire case was riddled with reasonable doubt, much like Anthony's--no murder weapon was ever found, seven of the nine witnesses who testified against Davis recanted or changed parts or all of their testimony and claimed that they were coerced under duress, it is believed that another one of the witnesses was the actual murderer...and yet, Davis was found guilty of murder, and ultimately executed at 10:53 pm. Where is the outrage now? Where is the anger over the judicial system now?

It appears that any anger on my Facebook news feed is directed at the new layout, which seems to have pissed off plenty of people, excluding yours truly. I don't have any issues with it. I can still do what I go on to the site to do, and if I couldn't, well...I'd figure it out, like the last time Mark Zuckerberg changed things up. Change happens. Updates occur. Big deal. You adapt and move on...because you know in a few months or a year, Facebook will change things up again.

But Troy Davis will never take another breath. Troy Davis will never get to prove his innocence. Troy Davis may have been wrongly executed while the real killer, believed to be Sylvester "Redd" Coles, spends the rest of his life a free man because the state of Georgia will never investigate that trail and openly admit that they may have killed the wrong person. And the MacPhail family may never really know who killed Mark MacPhail that night at Burger King in 1989. We may never know if Troy Davis was the one who pulled the trigger.

And that, to me at least, is more frustrating than the way my news feed shows up when I log in on Facebook.

Honey Bee

2011-09-20T02:10:00.003-04:00

Another wonderful moment with Nicky (taken at the zoo, edited by Instagram):

White Daisy Passing

2011-09-18T02:47:00.003-04:00

I somehow unexpectedly wound up on a two month hiatus. To all my loyal readers and friends, I am so sorry.

It's like they say: When it rains, it pours. And it was getting to be where I needed to carry a metaphorical umbrella at all times :\

One of my co-workers fell from a moving vehicle and shattered the back of his skull in the end of July and roughly two weeks or so later a good friend of mine fell off his ATV and had it flip over onto him and crush his mid-section. Thankfully and very miraculously they are both recovering. My friend even found out he will be a first-time father in April of 2012. Needless to say my mind has been preoccupied with those tragedies and with getting Nicky ready for school (he started first grade nearly a month ago). I also started class again, I'm taking a physical anthropology class online through my local community college, and I'm also trying to mentally prepare myself for my best friend's spontaneously unexpected move halfway across the country to Colorado Springs in about three weeks. I've had a lot to deal with in the past month and a half and juggle with the already hectic craziness of my everyday life. I'm getting back into the swing of blogging things and am going to try to post at least once or twice a week. My sporadic posts are not fair to you all, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart.

If I go this long without posting again, feel free to email me (lala1217@yahoo.com) and encourage me to post something :)

<3 you guys,
Lashawn

Ooh La La

2011-07-18T02:17:00.001-04:00

I.
Am.
Melting.

Ugh, it is so hot. Like ridiculously muggy and sticky and the kind of hot where sweat pools in the crevices of your skin and you can just feel the sweat dripping down the small of your back kind of hot. July and August are two of my least favorite months of the year. I'm not exactly a fan of the heat, especially with the added delight that my dad won't get AC because "he grew up before they had invented it and he was fine". Well...that was 1940s-50s Tennessee. This is 2011. Blah.

I am actually looking forward to December and January when it is cold and snowy and I can walk around without feeling like I am gonna pass out from the heat. It'd also be pretty wonderful to wear my hair down without it being a soggy, frizzy 'fro. I'd also like to wear makeup without it melting or have my skin break out from the heat. I'm not big on summer. I never have. Give me the other seasons, preferably spring and fall, and I'll be content.

We are supposed to have four more 90+ degree days this week (we got to 90 today and set a new record high temperature), and then it's supposed to be in the low 80s until it inevitably gets disgustingly hot again.

Come on, late September...

Tinker Toys

2011-07-05T00:54:00.000-04:00

Real life conversation that just happened:

(Quick backstory: Nicky is telling me how old his cousins are and how he doesn't want to grow up.)

Me: Nicky, how old are you?
Nicky: I'm six.
Me: And how old am I?
Nicky: Um, probably around a thousand.
Me: What?!?!?
Nicky: Oh, I mean twenty-five.

I hope you all had a great Fourth of July!!!

Battery Kinzie

2011-07-01T02:54:00.000-04:00

Ugh. I have a summer cold.

I've been a bit of a blogging slacker. My laptop battery is on the fritz, so I can only be on it for like ten to fifteen minutes before it loses its charge and craps out on me--and my charger is cheap and lame, so when it gets overheated it shuts off so that my house doesn't go down in flames. I thought I was being economical and wise when I ordered it from Amazon. My laptop is a HP of dreams, but the stupid charger died after six months of usage--when I went to the HP site to scope out a replacement, I saw most people bitched about the lifespans of their awesome computers' shitty chargers, and decided that I couldn't justify spending like eighty bucks on a shitastic charger every six to eight months or so. So I wandered down the information superhighway down to Amazon and perused the aisles of technological goods until I found a pretty kickass generic charger for twenty-five bucks. It does the job, but the little box on the charger gets hot and then it cuts off so that it doesn't overheat and melt. All was well until my laptop battery decided to retire after a little over a year...after the factory's one year warranty is up.

Damn you technology.

I ordered a new battery and am currently waiting on the right one to come in, seeing as I accidentally ordered one with the wrong parameters. I can write little crap entries off my phone but I don't want to use up all of my data plan. AT&T is awesome, but my iPhone makes my phone bill pretty scary.

I'll post more later, this is just a I'm-still-alive kind of post. I'll go more into depth later...

Friends, Lovers or Nothing

2011-05-26T04:23:00.002-04:00

she sits--
amidst the rumpled bedclothes--
she sits
and waits

her hair a jumbled brown tangle
roughed up from the friction--
from the sheets and his skin and his hands--
her cheeks slightly rosy,
complexion dewy, that perfect blend of porcelain and flush

she sits--
her pale hands nervous,
her delicate fingers with the nails painted plum--picking anxiously,
anxiously at the sheets,
twisting themselves in the 600 count cotton--
she sits
and waits

the door creaks--
she bites her lips,
her pulse thudding loudly in her ears,
she strains for a reassuring glimpse of his shadow--
and sees it in the doorway
she breathes a sigh of relief

he enters the room,
and as always, she is amazed--
how could someone, so perfect, so beautiful,
how could someone as marvelous as him
see something so marvelous in someone like her--
she marvels in the absurdity

tall, strong, masculine, blonde
she allows herself one hedonistic moment
one selfish moment to just stare shamelessly and drink him in--
her turquoise eyes meet his, and she feels a splash of warmth across her cheeks
the smoldering intensity behind those ocean eyes makes her heart race

this isn't love--it can't be,
she insists
purely lust, unrestrained and running wild and free
and yet, what else could it be?
how else could she even begin to explain how he seemed to occupy so much of her mind?

she sits--
amidst the rumpled bedclothes,
aching, yearning,
she sits
and chides herself as nothing more than a fool
she sits, and she waits--

he sits then, on the edge of the bed,
flashes her one of his trademarked smiles--
crooked and boyish
playful, yet purely seductive
maddening yet utterly heart stuttering--
leans towards her, and envelops her in a crushing hug
she closes her eyes, and much like an addict, breathes him in

he lets go, without the words she longs to hear
reaching down to the floor to pick up his jeans
and he puts them on, making some joke about something trivial, insignificant--
and she laughs, though her heart falls to the floor

she quickly dresses, folding up her feelings deep inside herself
while he steps outside to have a smoke
and as the door closes, she lets her head fall into her hands
and allows herself one controlled moment to break into a trillion jagged little pieces--
before he comes back and she has to exude cool indifference

she sits--
on the edge of his king sized bed,
her legs tangled in the tumult of sheets,
she sits, she waits,
but for what...in that briefest flicker of moments,
she isn't quite sure--

--"friends with benefits", 05/25/2011.

Dickhead

2011-05-14T02:14:00.000-04:00

So I really think Blogger is fucking with me. I could have sworn I had a new comment (and follower) when I was on here yesterday, and now the comment and follower is gone. What the hell, Blogger.

It's 1:52 am Friday night. I am currently laying in bed composing this entry on my iPhone and wishing I was asleep, seeing as I have to get up in about five hours for my ten-hour workday tomorrow. Why am I up? The people who live upstairs in the duplex next door got a brand new puppy I think today and they have it on their front porch and it has been crying for the past hour. It is this loud, high pitched yipping that will go on for ten to fifteen minutes straight, stop just long enough for me to start nodding off, and then start back up.

Is it wrong for me to want to throw something at said puppy? It added howling into the repertoire, and I'm exhausted. I want to go next door and punch the stupid wannabe gangsta chick that lives there in the face. It's bad enough she'll roll in from the bar at like three-thirty in the morning with the bass blasting and Gucci Mane personally waking me up with his latest little ditty about money, cash, and hoes (high fives to anyone who caught the Jay-Z reference). Ugh ugh ugh. I wish I didn't have a job so that I could fill all my time with being a badass bitch. Really, it must be nice.

Well, Señor Puppy must have cried himself to sleep because I haven't heard him in five minutes. I'm going to try to go to sleep now, darlings. Good night.

Meet You There

2011-05-06T00:38:00.001-04:00

So...X Factor was a bust, but whatever. I got to go to Chicago and have a blast! I'll share the sordid details later, but for now I'll share my trip in pictures:

In the Escape before hitting the road!

Rain rain rain in Cleveland :(

Fuck you Mobil Gas!

Freezing in Indiana.

Yay, Chicago at last!!!

Looking fabulous in line for X Factor registration.

All registered and ready to hit the city :)

Sharing a good laugh with Bob Newhart.

A tender moment with the sculpted children of Chicago.

She totally started it. You didn't see what she did to get this kick.

The obligatory self-portrait in the reflection of the Bean.

Cloud Gate, aka The Bean. A stop in our exploration of Millennium Park.

A really good shot of the skyline in Downtown Chicago.

All dolled up for the auditions! I looked good before the 2.5 hour wait in the cold rain :(

Patiently waiting.

Some of the line on audition day.

Float On

2011-04-24T19:24:00.003-04:00

I like making lists, it's a good way to summarize the thoughts in my head without writing an entire novel in one blog post. So...

*I woke up this morning with a headache. I think it's from falling asleep with my super heavy and super thick hair pulled tightly up at the top of my head. I popped two Excedrin and took my hair down...

*BUT...I realized that the argan oil that I put in my hair could very well be causing the nasty outbreak of acne I've been getting along my jawline and my lower cheeks and hairline. So I pulled my hair back.

*However, the argan oil makes my stupid hair behave, so I'm trying to find a brand that I could use that won't break me out. I heard Josie Maran makes a good oil. For now I'm just putting the oil at the ends and hopefully I won't break out anymore.

*The Floridian Flasher struck again last night. I was kind of like "wow, why would you send me a picture of your junk two months after the last picture you sent of your junk...especially after I completely ignored you and blocked you on Facebook?" I guess that's some serious desperation, hahaha.

*Happy Easter, if Christianity is your cup of tea. I drink from the mug of Catholicism--it tastes kinda like some really strong espresso, with quite a kick.

*I leave for Chicago in about 22 hours. I audition for X Factor in less than four days. Very excited. Starting to get nervous. There's something pretty intimidating about Simon Cowell.

*I was suspended three days this week from work. I can't really go into it since I'm still working there, but I'll tell you that I didn't do anything wrong. Perhaps I can go into it soon. Just cross your fingers for me and perhaps I'll have an entirely new chapter to tell.

Closing Time

2011-04-07T01:56:00.001-04:00

Hey darlings, it's time for Thirsty Thursday over at For The Love Of Blogs, so I will share a delicious drink recipe with y'all...Enjoy!!!

A Piece of Ass (taken from drinksmixer.com)

1 shot almond amaretto liqueur
1 shot Southern Comfort peach liqueur
Sweet and sour mix

Pour liqueurs over ice in a glass. Fill with sweet and sour mix and serve.

I'd like to thank all of you that stopped by from FTLOB! Hugs and kisses to you lovelies, and please feel free to check out my other posts. If you like, comment, and if you lurrrrve, please follow! Also feel free to "like" my Facebook page...And if you show me love, I'll gladly return the favor.

People Watching

2011-04-06T03:29:00.000-04:00

I am kind of cheating, so I'll give you a full entry later on today. I was going through my videos on my computer a few minutes ago, and I found this delightful little gem that I'll share with you guys at the end of this post. I think Nicky was about four or so, he might have been five already, this is from around this time last year. I think it's pretty cute, so enjoy my adorable little bunny:

Sunsets & Car Crashes

2011-04-01T18:25:00.000-04:00

Ah...Today calls for a good old fashioned playlist. Take a listen to the playlist, and I'm always open to new music, so feel free to post a song or band/artist you think I should check out in the comments section below!

The Thank Goodness It's April (And Friday) Playlist:

1. "Pretty Bird", Jenny Lewis, (Acid Tongue)
2. "Assassin", John Mayer, (Battle Studies)
3. "The High Road", Broken Bells, (Broken Bells)
4. "Blue Blood Blues", The Dead Weather, (Sea of Cowards)
5. "Hard To Explain", The Strokes, (Is This It)
6. "1901", Phoenix, (Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix)
7. "On The Radio", Regina Spektor, (Begin to Hope)
8. "Mouthwash", Kate Nash, (Made of Bricks)
9. "Come Round Soon", Sara Bareilles, (Little Voice)
10. "22", Lily Allen, (It's Not Me, It's You)

Know Your Onion!

2011-03-30T00:45:00.000-04:00

So I stumbled upon a delightful new blog, thanks to my Yahoo homepage. It's called Bent Objects, and it's the hilarious and pretty imaginative art of this photographer/artist named Terry Border. I'll share a few of his funny photos with you guys, and you should totally check out his blog!

(Some Gentlemen Prefer Blondes...Others Prefer Cupcakes, hahaha.)

(What a Jerk!!! He kinda looks like Justin Guarini from Season One of American Idol, hahaha!!)

(Personality and Confidence Can Only Get You So Far, haha!!!)

(Damn It, Well There Goes The Neighborhood!)

Un-thinkable (I'm Ready)

2011-03-25T16:20:00.001-04:00

So...oh my God. Mon friggin' Dieu.

My friend Steph signed me up for the X Factor auditions in Chicago at the end of April. I'm excited. And nervous. And excited. But mostly nervous. I get stage fright, and I haven't really sang in front of a large group since high school, which was seven years ago (...fuck! Hahaha.). I do, however, don't feel too bad about the stage fright thing, because I once read that Sheryl Crow gets stage fright, and I love Sheryl Crow. It's good to know that huge superstars get nervous too.

I think I'm going to go with "Low Road" by Grace Potter & The Nocturnals as my initial audition song. I love it, and it shows off my voice very well. I'm gonna have to play around with it in the upcoming weeks to make it my own and to really make the judges (especially if I make it to Simon...eeeee!!!) be like "Who is this girl and why isn't she a star?" I'm not gonna lie, this has been a lifelong dream of mine, and life always gets in the way. I'm putting my foot down this time and I'm going to make this dream a reality.

Wish me luck, and I'll keep you all posted!

Call Me When You're Sober

2011-03-24T00:15:00.000-04:00

It's Thirsty Thursday at For The Love Of Blogs, and I've decided to share a yummy-sounding recipe that I think I'm going to request on my next girls night out. It's an adult twist on the standard kid's fare, peanut butter and jelly. What's it called? Peanut Butter and Jelly. Credit goes to the amazing website, Drinks Mixer!

Peanut Butter and Jelly Shot

1 oz. Frangelico hazelnut liqueur

1 oz. black raspberry liqueur

Pour ingredients into a stainless steel shaker over ice, and shake until completely cold. Strain into an old-fashioned glass, and serve.

Business Time

2011-03-23T02:43:00.000-04:00

(Gratuitous Plug of the Month)

My wonderful best friend DeLaina has started her own craft business, Oh Crafts! Bows & More, and you should definitely check it out if you are A.) a girl, B.) know a girl, C.) have a daughter/stepdaughter/niece/goddaughter, or D.) like wearing bows (hey, whatever makes you happy, haha). The stuff is cute and the prices are reasonable. D also makes stuff upon request, and she is more than willing to personalize her wares for you or any of the little girls in your life!

Here's pictures of the awesome flower bow (she calls it the "Here Comes The Sun" flower bow) she made for adults, modelled by her beautiful and fabulous sister Destinie:

She also makes adorable little bows and flowers for little ones, and she's expanding to headbands and perhaps earrings and key chains. Stop on by her Facebook page, and if you want, Like it...And if you really like it, buy some of the awesomeness she has for sale!!!

You Don't Have To Be A Prostitute

2011-03-23T02:11:00.001-04:00

Hahahaha...Love Flight of the Conchords.

In other news, I'm battling my Girl Scout cookie habit. It's an addiction. I bought six boxes of Tagalongs from Mac the service manager's granddaughters, and I received the tiny crunchy medallions of chocolatey peanut buttery goodness on Saturday. I already ate two boxes, and opened another tonight. I will most likely eat the rest of the third box tonight while watching The Nanny. I will most likely hit rock bottom when I run out...which will most likely be some time next week. Hahaha.

Short Skirt/Long Jacket

2011-03-16T02:37:00.001-04:00

Awesome Real Life Moment #1546512:

"And btw I am currently sitting across from a crazy drunk guy on the bus, lol. He's wearing badass old aviators and he's got crazy hair combed back greaser style and he's lounging in his seat with an Elvis kind of smirk on his drunk face. Classic."

(Taken from a text I sent Sunday, March 13, 2011 @ 6:00 pm)

It's 2:22 am, and I should be in bed, but let's be honest. I'm never in bed at 2:22 am unless I have to get up at the asscrack of dawn. Mornings are like breakup sex--they should be avoided at all costs. I loathe and detest mornings. Sure, they're great in theory, I'll admit that, but in practice? No. I can live with waking up around noon.

But I digress. I'm not really in a funny blogging mood this week. To be honest, Japan and work has got me down. I can't really blog about work because you never know who might be reading my blog, but I will say that this daily tension-headache-that-morphs-into-a-terrible-migraine shit needs to stop. One can only pop so many Excedrin in a day without overdosing and foaming at the mouth at her desk. I'm not a rockstar yet. I think I might try yoga or something to relax. I also need to make time for Bessie Washington. I'm up all damn night but I can't exactly practice Bessie at 2:22 am or my mom and dad would kill me.

And Japan? God, everything about this past week in Japan is depressing. Makes me want to cry. Seriously. I hope that we have learned that when it comes to us versus nature, nature always inevitably wins. Technology is a moot point when it comes to the raw strength of natural disaster. I admire the people of Japan and their ability to mainain a quiet dignity in the face of this ever-growing chaos. My thoughts and prayers go out to the entire nation and the families affected by this tragedy.

In other news, Nicky lost one of his front teeth yesterday. I will share a picture:

He got one dollar from the Tooth Fairy for that. I'm at work today and my mom calls me. Nicky lost his other front tooth today when he got home from school. I'll post a picture of that later on. He looks adorable. Score one more dollar for the Nickster from the Tooth Fairy. If he keeps this tooth losing business up, he's going to bankrupt Mom...I mean, the Tooth Fairy. Hahaha.

The Beat Goes On

2011-03-11T05:21:00.000-05:00

Just thought I'd share this song with you. I'm completely in love with it right now...and Adele's voice is amazing! Go ahead and take a listen to "Set Fire to the Rain" (taken from her new album, 21).

Meanwhile, Rick James...

2011-03-11T00:50:00.000-05:00

(Nicky in his Nagys uniform during a tee ball game, June 2010)

So, tee ball sign-ups are this month, and I am in a bit of a philosophical pickle.

Nicky played tee ball last summer on the Nagys, and he loved the team and his coach, Mike. I was a little unhappy with the way the team practiced, but I eventually warmed up to the idea that these were just four, five, and six year olds who were just learning the basics of the fine art of baseball. They weren't learning to be the next A-Rod or Grady Sizemore. They were learning to hit a ball off a tee and run to first base and not third. I was more than psyched for this season, especially since I was keeping him on the Nagys and with Coach Mike. Mike really had a way with the kids. They loved him and they listened, and us parents loved him because he was patient and made practice fun.

All was well until February 10th. Mike died suddenly of pneumonia. It caught us all completely off guard. He was only 30, and he didn't seem sickly or weak. Nicky had never really been exposed to death before, and I was a little unsure as to how to tell him. My mom and I sat him down and explained that Coach Mike had been very very sick and that he had died...I told him that he was coaching all the little angel kids in heaven. He seemed to get it, and even now he's like "Mommy, Coach Mike is in heaven. He died." I was honestly surprised that a five year old could grasp the finality of death. Part of me is still waiting for him to ask me where Mike is when the season starts.

The inevitable question of who is going to take over the coaching postition quickly takes the forefront. Zach, Mike's nephew of indeterminable age (I think he's like 20 or 21, tops.) and even more indeterminable maturity offers to take Mike's place. Zach was the one the kids would play with when they were supposed to be listening to Mike. He was also completely useless when it came to getting the kids to calm down. None of the kids took him seriously. I thought he was a big goofball, very immature and nerdy, but not in the cool nerdy way. He was more of the obnoxious and dumb nerdy way. He got on my nerves. I thought he was pretty harmless...Until he got all weird via Facebook messages when I was laid up in bed with severe tonsillitis last Thanksgiving. He went from being concerned about me being unable to swallow to being a bit of a creeper that kept messaging me and getting weirder with each message. I blocked him because I didn't need a puppy dog kind of kid hanging around me with a crush. I know that sounds mean, and maybe it was, but I didn't want him to get the wrong message. He was the assistant assistant coach of my son's tee ball team, not to mention he was kind of like a big kid himself. No sir.

Honestly, I don't want Zach coaching my son. He is not going to be able to control all those kids, and Nicky goes up to softball next summer (2012). He needs to learn the basics from someone who is serious about being a coach. I also, however, don't want to look like a gigantic bitch, especially since this kid took on the mantle of coach in lieu of his dead uncle. I think I am going to transfer him to another team. Nicky is okay with it--one of the perks, I guess, of being six and being resilliant. Why the hell do I feel so bad about it when he's just like whatever? I need to suck it up and be more like Nick.

Free Fallin'

2011-03-08T03:16:00.001-05:00

I recently acquired a guitar (Friday), thinking that since I am of the musical sort I should procure a guitar and learn to play. You know, cultivate my talent and all that good crap. Well...I'm not gonna lie to you. It's been like four days and I really suck. I'm not sure if it's my lack of guitar knowledge or if the whole strings/chords/numbers/letters thing intimidates me, but...I'm no John Mayer, let me tell you.

I haven't had time to go purchase a guitar manual, so I purchased a fine app off iTunes called Guitar Basics for Dummies, and I'm going to tell you I learned quite a bit about guitar playing. In theory. In practice...well...let's just say I have a bit of work cut out for me. I think that with proper, uninterrupted (that means you, Nicky and Mom) practice I might be able to summit and conquer Guitar Mountain. Maybe.

I'm thinking that maybe a guitar is like a puppy. You have to get it to trust you and then assert your dominance. Well, I'm asserting myself right now. I'm the Alpha, bitch. I totally own you, guitar. Yes. I also decided that I should name said guitar, because that will make it a lot more interesting and meaningful when I get mad at it and insult its guitarhood. I named my guitar Bessie Washington. I think it fits my guitar very well.

Along with the proper guitar holding technique and learning to fret and becoming intimidated by the juxtaposition of major and minor signs and numbers and letters and chords, I've learned another important thing about myself: my fingers are little sissy bitches. Seriously. I can only play for a little while before my fingers get sore and I have to stop because I have the impressions on my fingertips from where the strings cut into my fingers. I need to figure out how to speed up the callus forming process.

I honestly can't wait to be able to play a song, and I feel like Bessie Washington and myself are about to embark on a hilarious musical journey of pain, anguish, joy, frustration, anger, and that inevitable Helen Keller aha moment where it'll all come together and I'll attain guitar enlightenment.

And the first real song I hope to play, after I get comfortable with everything? "Free Fallin'", John Mayer style. Go look up his version on YouTube and you'll be like "wow, that John Mayer is a douche, but lord can he play the guitar."

Girl Inform Me

2011-03-07T23:25:00.001-05:00

Welcome to the 100th episode of Butterflies and Hurricanes.

It's been quite a ride.

I've currently acquired a creeper/stalker, I think. I will share with you the message I got on Facebook last night from the Floridian Flasher.

March 6 at 8:40pm

Yo what's your deal ? I know u got my texts

Actually I did not get your texts because I blocked your number.

Jesussss. What a creeper. Most people would have gotten the hint and rode off into the sunset.

(Here's to the next 100 posts being as crazy as these!)

Dirty Picture

2011-03-01T04:15:00.001-05:00

Wow.

That's all I can say. That and I was pretty much eye raped like two hours ago. Haha, what happened, you may ask? Well friends, sit down and let me tell you a tale of complete WTF-ness and hilarity and complete creeperdom.

I was sitting there, reading an article on my MSNBC app on my iPhone. I was just scrolling through a highly informative and educational article about what is going on at the present moment in Libya (Very sad, indeed. My thoughts and prayers go out to the protesters and the people of Libya, all joking aside.), and my phone squawks at me and a picture message alert pops up. To anyone who has an iPhone, you know that the window that pops up is basically just the picture in a smaller form. I jump in surprise at the unexpected noise, and take a moment to look at the image and when I do, I'm just kind of disgusted and slightly amused.

This guy I'd been talking to before his traits of obvious creeperness had kicked in, had gotten this brilliant idea to send me a picture of him and his penis. Umm...okay. I had planned to meet up with this guy, a fairly normal individual who I knew back in the days of yore, aka high school, when he came back to Cleveland in the summer and hook up. Looking back, he had a thing with showing girls his junk back then too because I totally just remembered him doing that to me once when we were 17. Huh. Funny how I'd forgotten about that.

But anyway. I had made plans to hook up with him like three years ago, but I'd started seeing my Faux Ford Gangsta and I wanted to see where it might go. I didn't even give Señor Flasher a second thought, and three years go by. Well last Tuesday he sends me an IM on Facebook out of nowhere and we start talking and eventually texting. We get back on the topic of hooking up and I'm like yeah, sure, I'm down. All of a sudden he starts pestering me to send him naked pictures of myself, like constantly over the course of the two days we had been texting. I keep changing the subject, because I'd sent him a picture three years ago of myself and I'd made myself physically sick with worry after I'd done it.

During this entire time I start getting this queasy butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling, like something is seriously off. I finally tell him no, because I'm really uncomfortable with the idea of sending him any pictures like that. It'd be different if we were dating--we'd just started conversing for the first time in three years, and one of the first things he asked me was if my phone had video chat. Call me crazy since my warning bells went off. Well, after I tell him no, he kinda gets all pissy and throws a tantrum. His reaction makes me think that there was more to those pics than him just wanting to see me naked. He seriously gets mad at me, like I want him to beg me for the pictures or something. Nope, I don't want you to beg because I'm not taking any pictures. He was so petulant it was ridiculous. I briefly thought of a toddler not getting his way. He even sent me an indignant "Thanks" the next day, as if to try to guilt me into changing my mind.

I decided to block him from my Facebook page and consequently blocked his number from my phone. At first I wondered if I was overreacting, but I decided that most guys would not have reacted the way he did to my "no". I figured he'd be like "okay, that's cool, I completely understand"...it made me wonder how he'd react to no in other situations. It was quiet until tonight...I have to laugh at the picture message, though. It's kind of funny in a ridiculous sort of way.

He obviously figured out I blocked him, since I'm sure he tried to text me and can't see me on Facebook. It's just ridiculous that he thinks sending me a picture of his penis is going to make me want to unblock him. I'm sorry, I'm not going to forget the way he acted simply because he sent me a picture of his junk. How about sending me a picture of an apology--and I'm not accepting a naked body shot as an apology. That's like sending someone an apology card with a picture of some chick's vag on it.

Perhaps I'm overreacting, perhaps I'm not. All I know is that I deleted the picture (thank God he didn't send it when Nicky was playing Angry Birds...I think I would have unblocked him and cussed his ass out if that had happened), and I'm ignoring him until further notice. I have a little more self-respect than that, thank you.

Born This Way

2011-02-27T13:26:00.003-05:00

A few things I've learned over the years:

*Height is like turning eighteen--it's completely overrated.

*You may one day realize that you may be best friends with a person, but that person isn't best friends with you.

*You inevitably will spend an undetermined amount of time loving a person who most likely doesn't love you back.

*You may think that a guy likes you for your brains and personality, but he really likes you for your boobs and butt.

*Beauty is like wine--it gets better with age.

*Friends with benefits is kind of like politics--good in theory, terrible in practice.

*Life is too short and what hurts today might not even be worth lamenting over tomorrow. There's always more books to read, boys to kiss, people to love, funny moments to laugh about, songs to sing...because that's the real beauty of life. It always goes on.

*It doesn't matter what you've accomplished or what you've acquired in your short span on Earth, because in the end, we are all going.

*Laughter might really be the best medicine.

*Your true best friend may live hundreds or thousands of miles away, but they're always there for you no matter what. Distance means nothing.

Symphonies

2011-02-25T19:13:00.001-05:00

Take a listen. Hope you enjoy my cover of Grace Potter & The Nocturnals' song, "Low Road".

Tiny Light

2011-01-18T02:57:00.001-05:00

I'm lying here in bed
It's nearly three in the morning
And of course I'm thinking about you
Of course

I'm wondering if you're really going to do
What you said you were gonna do
If you don't get your way
And if
If I really should care

Of course we both know the answer
Yes
Of course

And I'm wondering why I care so much
Why I care so much about you
Why my heart worries so much
About you
It's funny, I suppose

Why I can barely stand the thought
Of an everyday without you
It's ridiculous, of course
Why should I care
We're both adults, free to do as we choose
Ridiculous to miss you
Of course

And yet
I'm lying here
Quietly hoping that you don't go
Because I need you to stay, of course
I've gotten so used to you
That must be it, my brain insists
You're my very own daily routine
That's why I want you to stay

Of course we both really know the answer
I need you, we both know
Of course

--"Wild Hope", 01/17/2011.

Dirt Off Your Shoulder

2011-01-07T15:36:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I took the plunge.

No, I didn't get married. I didn't even dive into the deep end of a pool (if I did such a thing I would probably die, since I just so happen to not know how to swim--I'm adding that to my list of bullshit broken promises...I mean "resolutions"). No...I started my diet/exercise/it's-not-a-diet-it's-a-life-plan debacle of 2011. I'm feeling pretty good so far, surprisingly. No debilitating muscle spasms or soreness. I'm known for being too overzealous and idiotic and not being able to walk for like three days after I do lunges. I'm kinda thinking I might be able to stick to it longer than two weeks, which would be the stuff of legends. I expect an epic ballad of medieval proportions...kinda like Beowulf, but minus the slaying of Grendel and hanging with guys named Hrothgar. Although it'd be kind of cool to be friends with a guy named Hrothgar.

I took my obligatory Jennie Craig style "Before" pictures, and um...all I can say is WOW. Nothing puts your debauchery and love of cake and superfluous gourmet grilled cheese in perspective like four simple shots of front, back, ass, and side. I immediately regretted my bacchanal at Olive Garden the night before. I think I found out where all that pasta goodness went after all: right to the cellulite that decided to unpack itself on the backs of my thighs. Sweeeet.

I'm hoping to lose twentyish pounds by the end of May or mid-June. Baby steps. I think I'd like to run in a half-marathon in the Fall, though I'd have to train and bribe my legs not to mutiny and fall off.

Besides, I think I should be in prime shape for my never-ending adventures and constant shenanigans with Nicky. Who needs Jillian Michaels when you have an impatient and seemingly eternally hyper five year old boy? I'm destined for greatness. Wish me luck :)

Like a G6

2011-01-06T03:14:00.002-05:00

Happy New Year my wonderful beautiful fabulous readers!!! I hope 2011 brings you joy and brings you closer to fulfilling your wildest dreams.

I can't believe how quickly 2010 went by. I must say that it was a good year, and if it were wine it'd have been sweet, with floral notes and hints of sparkling citrus. I'd buy a bottle of L. Diddy wine circa 2010.

I've taken to calling myself L. Diddy. I think it's catchy and sounds good when I talk about myself in the third person, which I do a lot more now since I have a cool nickname for myself. I made a list of obligatory resolutions, which I hope to try to keep.

Let's do this.

L. Diddy's List of Obligatory New Years Resolutions, 2011 Edition

*Lose 10-20 pounds
*Embrace exercise (and not the bomb)
*Get more sleep
*Go to bed before 3 am...let's aim for 11 pm
*Make more time for Mommy and Nicky time
*Write and finish a novel
*Record a song in an actual studio

And I'm bound to add more as the year goes on. Wish me luck, because I am sending some to all of you as you struggle with your own resolutions, or as I like to call them, "lies we tell ourselves to make us feel better about all the bad crap we did the year before".

Stop This Train

2010-12-09T01:27:00.001-05:00

I'll be 25 in about eight days, and I've begun to think about how I'm getting older and how at 25 you're supposed to be "grown up" and living the adult life. I won't lie when I say that I've had my fair share of early quarterlife crises, where I've sat here and been like "oh my god I'm going to be 25 in X amount of months and I have absolutely nothing to show for it." And to me, in the traditional sense, I feel as though I don't. I'm a freshman in college, I still live at home...it seems silly, but it bothers me that I've never lived on my own.

The Great Recession, however, has leveled the quarterlife playing field. College degrees don't automatically signify a sweet high-paying job and a guaranteed spot on the awesome rung of the adult ladder. A lot of twentysomethings have moved back in with Mom and Dad because they can't find a job and the costs of living on their own are too high. I'm no longer the uncool single mom who is struggling to financially get through college and still lives at home. A lot of my friends have moved back home, right back into their bedrooms from their childhood.

So now I'm worrying about the other prong of the quarterlife crisis: I'm getting old. Scoff if you must, but high school still only seems like yesterday, albeit yesterday through a dirty glass. It seems weird for me to worry about dull skin and wrinkles and an entire skin routine. I've always been a low maintenance kind of girl when it comes to beauty routines. I don't have the time or the energy to worry about three steps to clearer skin or whatever. But now, now I have to be a little more structured with my skin or I'll pay for it down the road. Suddenly I'm worrying about those bad sunburns I got as a kid and my two separate but brief stints in the tanning bed. Suddenly I'm reading the descriptions on my face stuff and looking for alpha hydroxy acids and antioxidants. It's a bit daunting, but I figure it'll be worth it ten or fifteen years down the road.

I looked in the mirror a few weeks ago and I noticed that I had lines under my eyes. They weren't overly pronounced or anything, but they were enough to make me regret all those years of not wearing my glasses and squinting to see. I was kind of like a Latin American revolutionary when it came to wearing those stupid glasses. I'd rather die than wear those nerdy plastic welfare kid glasses, so I stayed vain and cool and popular and squinted my way through my childhood. I've since then bought eye cream, and I try to remember to apply it religiously twice a day. I tend to forget, but I figure if I do it enough it'll become a routine habit.

No gray hairs yet, thank sweet baby Jesus. I'm going to cross my fingers and hope I get a few more years out of that.

More on getting old tomorrow when I wake up. It's like 1:41 am and I have to go to sleep 'cause I have work at noon. XO.

Four Kicks

2010-11-03T03:04:00.001-04:00

I'm on a Kings of Leon kick lately. I'm really loving their music. (See post title.)

"Let us not seek the Republican answer or the Democratic answer, but the right answer. Let us not fix the blame for the past. Let us accept our own responsibility for the future."--John F. Kennedy

Anyway, today was Election Day, and I must say I am very disappointed in the people of the United States. How could you vote for the party that dug us into the huge hole we are in now? How could you let the party that accused our President of being a non-citizen because he spent a large part of his childhood outside the US, who challenged the authenticity of his birth certificate because his father was from Kenya, who questioned his religion and his ties to terrorism simply based on the middle name of Hussein, the House majority? How could you simply forget how we teetered on the precipice of another Great Depression? How could you forgive a party who led us into a war based on false pretenses? How could you just blindly turn your head and forget?

How could you give up so quickly on change?

What ever happened to "Yes we can"?

I'm so tired of all the he said/she said red state/blue state elephant/donkey bullshit. I'm so tired of all the partisan drama and the hate and the poorly veiled blatant racism and the anti-Muslim, anti-Hispanic rhetoric. I'm tired of the Rush Limbaughs and the Glenn Becks and the Michael Steeles and the Sarah Palins of the conservative world that make us all wonder if the Republican party has gone mad. I'm so tired of watching every move Barack Obama makes get attacked on Fox News.

He's our fucking President, if you like him or not, if you voted for him or not. Show some goddamn respect. I didn't like Bush, but I showed him respect. My party showed him respect, even when he dragged thousands of men and women off to die in the Middle East to fight in countries that didn't want us there. I showed his party respect, even when they touted the gay marriage ban and the suggestion of overturning Roe v. Wade. I respected him because he was our leader, even though I voted for John Kerry in my very first election. I think that the rest of the country should respect Obama in the same fashion.

I have to admit that I am becoming disillusioned with our nation's government. I am tired of watching the GOP block every damn thing that Obama tries to pass through Congress. I am just so tired of it all.

I propose we start a new party. Screw Republican and Democrat and Independent. I say we start the party of NOW. It has never been so important to speak up and make your voice heard in government. It has never been so important to speak out against the bullshit going on in Congress. It has never been so important to tell Capitol Hill you want change and you want it NOW.

I think I want to be the change that I want to see...Who wants to join me???

"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek."--Barack Obama

McFearless

2010-10-22T20:46:00.000-04:00

This blog has wandered away from what it used to be, so thus I am bringing it back to focus. Me whining about life is neither relevant or funny to most people, so let's just suck it up and bring it back to the witty shit it used to be.

Agreed? Agreed, playa playa.

Okay...So...This coffee house opened at the end of my street, and I am starting to think that I am cultivating the beginnings of a major addiction. I can't argue with tasty coffee beverages under $5.00. I think that I am breaking up with Starbucks. Sorry, Starbucks. WesTown Grind is closer, which is always a plus because I am lazy and don't feel like walking to Target, which is like a good fifteen minutes away, and I don't have to sell my kidney and half of my liver to get a large mocha, which they call LARGE and not venti or grande or whatever the hell a large mocha is at Starbucks. Aaand I get whipped cream, which the guy makes right there with whipping cream, aaaand I don't burn off my tongue when I go to take a sip. So there, Starbucks. We can be friends, but our love affair is over. Please lose my number before this gets awkward.

Hmm...What else can I comment on? Well, I went to my very first haunted house (I know, and I'll be 25 in two months. No one ever wanted to go! Laaammmeee.), and it was pretty interesting. We went to Ohio State Reformatory, which is a former prison and is known for its notorious paranormal happenings. It is also known for being the prison where they filmed Shawshank Redemption, which is one of my favorite movies. The prison is pretty foreboding, built in an almost Gothic revival kind of style and just looks pretty freaky. We waited in line for five hours to go inside, in front of the most ghetto people of all time. The prison itself is super scary on the inside, and I want to go back for the overnight ghost hunt. I also had a heart attack and hid my face in my friend's hoodie when a scary ass clown came out of nowhere with a huge freaking knife. It was a good time.

Now I'm off to watch Sam and Dean go kick some demon ass on Supernatural. Yumm.

Monster

2010-08-28T11:04:00.001-04:00

I seem to be attracted to bad relationships. Honestly. Perhaps that's why I prefer being single.

What brought on that astute observation? Well, I was sitting here, cataloging all the idiotic men in my life, and they are just that: idiotic. I have wasted a huge chunk of my adult life on morons. I don't know what it is about them that pulls me into their ridiculous orbit. I really don't.

You would think that since I am so smart, I'd have figured this out a long time ago and saved my heart some grief. Apparently romance is where my heart and brain part company. My brain, no doubt brilliant and rational, often tells my illogical, irrational heart that it has serious issues. My heart, on the other hand, just continues its self-destructive dance to heartbreak.

And I've also realized that I can't seem to catch the eye of normal guys. I've tried. All I get are the idiots. And idiots they have been: a handful of urban wannabes, a guy who played me and his wife at the same time for nearly two years (and who unfortunately happens to be Nicky's dad), a really weird short guy who had the tendency to cry, put me down in weird ways, and told me he loved me after two weeks, all while bragging to my ex-friend's husband's family that he was banging me--and, I find out that oh-so-coincidentally he's said ex-friend's husband's sister's baby daddy...And then there's the latest one, who I've been messing with on and off for the past two and a half years. He is yummy, but I think he thinks he's the real life incarnation of Jamie Kennedy's B-Rad. Seriously. His name even rhymes. He grew up in the way-out-there suburbs of somewhat rural Ohio, with an extended stint in San Jose in his teens. Perhaps that's where he found his inner gangsta. I don't know, but what I do know is that he is a poser and it becomes more and more transparent every day.

And why can't I leave him alone? I don't really know, to be honest. He is never going to settle down, he's a player, and he is never going to outgrow this gangsta mentality, if the growing number of meaningless tattoos prove correct. I don't get myself, seriously. And he's the one that has affected me the most...He's even got my brain in on this huge mess.

I think I like setting myself up for heartache. I'm not really sure, but I do know that there has yet to be a normal guy in my crazy tally. It seems my options are either heartbreak or being single. And in all honesty, I'm single now, and the dramatics of my life still suck.

I could write one hell of a bad melodrama based on my bad romances.

Falling or Flying

2010-08-01T23:07:00.001-04:00

I'd like to share that I am a deeply and vastly interesting person. I am also pretty humble and/or modest, if you haven't picked up on it yet. I am also pretty Narcissistic. I love me, dude. I am pretty awesome.

Through all that awesome deep and vast interesting humble Narcissistic modesty, I also have a weird fear of letting the people that matter in my life down. I am terrified I am going to be a loser and live for the rest of my days in my parents' house in the same bedroom I've had since I was ten and eschew shaving my legs and talk to myself in code. That would be kind of funny, actually--I just giggled a bit at the hairy legs and the muttering in code thing.

But yeah. I am a pretty neurotic person. I talk shit but I am pretty thin-skinned. I'm pretty naive.

I'm actually kind of worried that I really don't have a grasp on my future yet. I am also worried that I will become one of those people that worry endlessly about the future and wind up living in a fantasy world made up of nothing but tomorrows. I am a restless perpetual daydreamer and sometimes I prefer the imagined to the reality. I keep telling myself that I will be twenty-five in five months and I need to quit this Holden Caulfield bullshit and just decide what it is that I am going to do with the sixty or seventy-something odd years left in my life. I am better at spontaneity than I am at the long-term. That was fine and dandy back when I was seventeen and bored on a Friday night and came up with a crazy idea to kill time, but not now. I'm halfway to thirty for Christsakes. Time to grow up and join the adult world and...then what?

I'd like to get a book published but then I'd have to actually sit down and fucking write one and actually finish it. There are so many things I'd like to accomplish in this tragically brief span of life that humans have on this planet, but I get bored with them before I actually start them. Boredom is a bitch. I'd like to become a singer but I lack the money for a demo and I lack the actual time to perform, what between working like most of my day and then trying to make up for the time lost during the day at work with Nicky. I want to move out, but shit, I am scared. I won't openly or vocally admit it, but I am scared of living on my own and not having that safety net if something goes wrong.

I'm a tangle of knotted-up insecurities. I'm pretty self-confident, but I'm also pretty self-conscious. I'm a goddamned walking contradiction. I'm like Red Bull in your decaf coffee, although that sounds pretty gross. I'm not gross. Insecure, yes. Gross, no.

Emily Dickenson once said, "Forever is composed of nows." I suppose that my rambling diatribe is leading up to just that. My fear of falling or flying doesn't matter. My now is intrinsically part of my forever. I wish I could make that sound more coherent and less acid trippy, but I can't. I am trying to say that forever only matters when you're dead, and that now is what matters.

Dance In The Dark

2010-07-31T21:39:00.001-04:00

I decided I'd make you guys a playlist since I haven't done one in ages. Go ahead and give it a listen :)

The It's Saturday Night and I Am Drinking a Strawberry Banana Smoothie From McDonald's Instead of Out Drinking But I Have a Headache and Am Slightly Broke So I Am Here Making This Playlist Playlist:

"Paris (Ooh La La)", Grace Potter & The Nocturnals, (Grace Potter & The Nocturnals)

"Clap Your Hands", Sia, (We Are Born)

"Vanity", Lady Gaga, (The Fame Monster)

"Semi Precious Weapons", Semi Precious Weapons, (You Love You)

"Oh My God", Mark Ronson featuring Lily Allen, (Version)

"I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You", Black Kids, (Partie Traumatic)

"I Got Mine", The Black Keys, (Attack & Release)

"Polygraph, Right Now!", The Spill Canvas, (One Fell Swoop)

"Sex On Fire", Kings of Leon, (Only By the Night)

"I'm Shakin'", Rooney, (Rooney)

(There's Gotta Be) More to Life

2010-07-29T00:34:00.001-04:00

Ever have the feeling that somehow drama just kind of gravitates towards you? Ever feel like life is just an eternal kick in the pants?

I really feel like walking up to whoever is in charge of the chaos that goes on in my life and demand a refund for a good part of the last 24.5 years. Seriously. I want my money back.

I am an eternal optimist, and I have to say that this shit is getting old. So I am eschewing drama with a firm hand. I am so tired of this lifelong struggle with the things that make me throw my hands up in the air and either A.) get pissed, B.) cry, or C.) get pissed and then cry. So I am just saying a huge "fuck it" and letting all that shit go. Let's address the biggest issues in my life:

My mom's family sucks, and I have always known that. I am gonna have to give them their own post, I promise. A family that impossibly fucked up and judgemental needs their own blog post. Honestly.

Work...I don't know how much I can post about work without getting in trouble and/or fired. So I'll just let out a huge GRRRRRRRRR and leave it at that.

Nicky's dad is a douche and I hate him and I hope he never runs into me while I am in the possession of any sharp objects. At least child support is taking out some money, even though I got fucked out of how much he has to pay. I'm going to be Zen and say that at least I'm getting more money than I was getting before child support started doing their job.

Boys are a waste of time and that's all I have to say on that subject.

Thank you so much Nashe for being concerned about me in my shitty time of craptastic bullshit. I'm glad you care :)

I really have to get this blogging shit back on track. It's really cathartic to just write about my everyday struggles, moments of awesomeness, and being held back by the Man.

Gone

2010-07-09T13:21:00.001-04:00

We were all witnesses to the very end. No words to describe the loss every Cavs fan in Cleveland is feeling right now. Another kick to the gut for a city that can never seem to catch a break.

Airplanes

2010-07-07T22:38:00.001-04:00

"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now..."--"Airplanes", B.O.B. with Hayley Williams

Clarity is a bitch.

Sorry. I had a rough day. I worked eleven hours, work was super busy, I got nothing done, and I am tired. I found out that my friend with benefits (who I wrestle feelings for off and on) is maybe seeing someone. Probably seeing someone. And how did I find out? Did he tell me? No. So how did I find out, you ask? Oh...She got her car serviced at the dealership today. And she called him right in front of me, and she sounded like they were more than just friends. And he came up front and went outside with her, and just somehow that really sucked.

Like really, really sucked. And it shouldn't have, but shit...it did. And I was hurt for a moment, then it went away like nothing. But I kept thinking about it. And it bugged me.

Gah...why does life have to be so complicated? I'm sort of hurt, a little pissed at myself because I shouldn't be hurt at all...He's not my boyfriend, but this is all so complicated. We have been messing around, off and on, for two years and I started out liking him, he liked me...and then we started seeing each other and then life got all stupid and something just happened between us and now we are what we are. And now I am where I am. I am hurt and pissed at myself and just trying to evaluate things, because he's a good friend of mine and he's there when I want him to be, and I don't want to lose that. And the sex is pretty good too.

Stupid sex. Sex always ruins things. And damn him and his stupid mixed messages and actions. Damn me for falling for him and then trying to fall out of whatever this is with him. Damn me for being an idiot. Damn me for letting this get so far. Damn this for getting all tangled up and complicated. Damn me for letting this make me kind of sad. Damndamndamndamndamndamndamn.

And why, oh why, do I freeze up at the thought of telling him how I feel? Goddamn it. I hate boys and I hate romance and the stupid complexities of it that I just can't seem to grasp.

So, I could really use a wish right now. Or some good vodka. Or a good trip away from my head.

Looking In

2010-06-17T21:14:00.005-04:00

Maybe life has a different perspective when viewed through slightly blurry lenses.

I currently am sitting on my porch, wearing a jacket because I am freezing, and I have one contact in my left eye. I think I scratched my right eye taking out my lenses Monday night because my eye has hurt like crazy when I put my lens in since. Damn scratched cornea.

But anyway, life looks a little different when one looks at the world with one good eye and one pretty shitty nearsighted astigmatized eye. Obviously there is the distinct blurriness, but perhaps I could look at things in shades of gray instead of just plain, clear cut black and white. Things could be easier, I suppose, if I allowed them to blur together in a cohesive tangle instead of hoping for a straight answer.

Perhaps not. Perhaps the only thing I am getting out of this one contact thing is a strained right eye, but shit, it never hurts to wax philosophical. My favorite philosopher, Soren Kirkegaard once said, "Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom." How true he was. The hardest thing in life might be to swallow the bubble of fear that forms in your stomach and blurs the distinction between the obvious and the delusion of uncertainty. I have often suffered from that fear, that anxious tumble of butterflies and deluded reason that has the ability to freeze a perfectly rational person in their tracks. I hate feeling as if someone poured ice into my veins, that sense of doubt one gets when fear steps in.

Oh, but the feeling you get when you pop that bubble and slap fear in the smug face! It's such a heady, delicious feeling. I imagine that perhaps the pursuit of freedom takes a bit of blurring, of smudging the charcoal lines on the stark white paper...Nothing in life is truly clear, perfectly sharp. Nothing transcends the line of 20/20. Perhaps one has to scratch their cornea to understand that.

I think that perhaps emotions work like that too. Take for instance, matters of the heart. I suppose we would all like love to be sharp and clear, charcoal and snow...but honestly, in all reality, it is a smeared compilation of anguished grays and delighted cream. The heart kind of views things in a complicated Venn diagram, analyzing and overanalyzing things until they become a meaningless babble.

I'm sure this unfocused clarity won't make sense the next time I read this post, but it makes perfect sense now: We have to blur the edges of life in order to get the entire picture. We can't always expect life to hand us a straightforward answer...we have to go searching through the mottled mess of our everyday lives to figure out the answers ourselves.

Boys Boys Boys

2010-06-02T23:28:00.001-04:00

Nicky. Is. Driving. Me. Insane.

Oh, the joys of motherhood.

He "graduated" from Head Start today and is officially a Kindergartner. He starts in August.

He is, however, currently being the biggest pain in my ass. He discovered that scissors can be used for more than cutting just paper, and has currently cut a hole in his shirt, a huge chunk out of my dad's recliner, and cut wires to one of my brother's electronic devices, among other things, I'm sure. He also decided that he doesn't have to listen to me, which is the latest on the long list of things that he has discovered infuriates me. I, on the other hand, have discovered that patience is overrated.

Perhaps I might look into yoga.

Do-Wah-Doo

2010-05-21T00:57:00.003-04:00

Ahh…Summer is on its way. Hallelujah.

The air smells like flowers and stuffs up my nose. Pollen is every-freaking-where, but that doesn’t pale the beauty of the bright greens and the vivid colors of the flowers. Spring in Cleveland could be compared to a blind man seeing for the first time in his life--after a world of gray and drab from November to mid-March, the city looks as though it was run through the washer with Tide. Colors are brighter, the sun is warmer, the air feels amazing, pollen aside. You wake up feeling amazing. The world is anew, and you feel as though you can do anything. Mother Nature decided to wash away the bad and present us all with a clean slate.

May has been a great month, seriously. I finished school two weeks ago, and I got As in both my classes (I dropped Sociology and Ethics due to conflicts between balancing mommydom and work and school and Lashawn). I also decided to change my major from Pre-Law to Anthropology. I love history and studying different cultures, and I am researching Socio Cultural Anthroplogy--for the first time in a while, I am excited about my career choice. I suppose that says a lot about how I really felt about Law--I love it in conceptual theory, but I think I would be miserable if I actually practiced it. I am more happy moving around instead of being in an office all day long. I also don’t think I could handle the cases I would handle--I wanted to go into Child Advocacy, and I think all the different stories would kill me, in the most metaphorical sense. I want to be able to watch my son grow up and not always be away from him, and I would love to be able to do something I love as a career.

Nicky started tee ball, and he is the Tee Ball King. I am so proud! They had their first practice scrimmage game yesterday, and his team won. I missed it, but my brother said that Nicky hit the ball on the first try the two times he was up at bat, and he hits the ball deep into outer field. He really enjoys the game, and I am hoping a few of his tee ball friends will be in his class in Kindergarten in the fall.

Speaking of Kindergarten, he had his screening last Friday, and he is all set for the fall. I already got his school supply list and his uniform order form. He is psyched to be starting Kindergarten and going to “big boy school”.

I am also starting a diet. School and the stress of the past semester sort of derailed my exercise routine, and I gained like 6 pounds over the past four months. I am tired of feeling sluggish and worn down, and I have noticed that I went up a dress size, and those pants are starting to get tight. I will, however, miss the little oomph the weight added to my cleavage! I aiming to lose some of the extra weight I hadn’t lost from last year, so about ten to fifteen pounds. I figure that I should be able to do it over the summer. I am also trying to put some WD-40 in my old creative part of my noggin, and am toying with the idea of attempting a novel this summer. I have a few ideas running around in my head, and if I get anything going, I will share it with you guys via blog.

That is the run down for now. I promise another awesome post soon. XO

Chasing Pavements

2010-04-27T19:56:00.002-04:00

My love affair with you, oh city of disparaging dreams,
Began on a Tuesday morning in December 1985
That snowy 17th you cradled me in your gritty arms
And I called you Home

I know there are some who prefer the country
Who delight in the vast expanses of hill and vale
But I prefer the dirt and the concrete
The crush of people and the incessant pulse of the city
I love the busyness of it all, the start and stop of things
The vivacious rhythm that one can only find in the urban oasis
I can’t be without it, the hushed sound of the streets calling my name
Without you, my humbled city, I am lost

I grew up in awe of your stoic presence
In the shadow that your brick and stucco edifice cast
I navigated the throng of the metropolitan playground
My hand safely tucked in my mother’s as I adventured about town
There was a great deal to see in my glittering world of you
And I tried to drink you in as much as I could, my shimmering jewel of a city
I was immersed in the wide eyed infatuation of a child

I lay in bed at night, lulled to sleep by the sound of traffic
Of airplanes flying low overhead
I could hear the hustlers making their money on the corner
The whispered lyrics of the inner city song
Noisy mufflers and women shouting provided the music
Breaking bottles and distant gunshots were the refrain

As I grew older I took you for granted
My dingy, dirty ramshackle city of broken dreams
The glittering gems of my youth were now, in my eyes of lost innocence
Nothing more than cracked and lackluster shards of poorly painted glass
I turned up my nose at your boarded up window fronts
When I should have lamented at your crumbling plaster shame
I scoffed at your downtrodden children, dirty and astray
Who slept in your doorframes and street grates
When I should have wept for your former glory instead
I turned my back on you in your most dire hour

I didn’t know your pain at the time
I was only focused on my immediate moment
Suburban daydreams, green grasses and strip malls
White picket fences and the empty lies of a charlatan fool
When I should have listened to your concrete whispers
Calling me back to the ones who truly loved me instead
It took a broken heart and shattered dreams
To make me find my love for you again
I promised you, my aching city, that I would never turn my back again

So I teach my son the illustrious history of your youth
The shining glory of your golden age
I show him your proud buildings from an era long since past
I tell him that through your tarnish there still is beauty
Though many see it and are confused
They fail to realize that in your dimmed magnificence there is a promising future
That in your veins runs the possibility of change anew
They fail to see that you still breathe, my damaged city
They choose instead to give up on themselves and on you
And thus, in their ignorance they blatantly abuse you

They break your heart with a sudden blast
Violently and instantaneously snuffing out the life
Of another of your bright and promising children
With a cowardly leaden bullet
And they seem to forget that when your rough concrete skin is splashed
With their innocent blood you die a little too, my fading city
A hundred thousand tiny crimson deaths
Beading and congealing in your cemented pores

And your people, they cry out in pain
They scream and bemoan their anguish to the skies
They cry out and leave vestiges of their sorrow
In the teddy bears and flowers they leave on the side of the pavement
The dates painted on windows in memoriam of those they loved
Ribbons tied to utility poles, silent reminders of those who left one day
And never came home
Makeshift memorials in a guerrilla war on a deteriorating city
Where the right and wrong sides were never truly made clear

And it hurts you too, though you cannot cry
For no mother should have to stand idly by
And helplessly watch her children die
Especially over something so meaningless and insignificant
As cars or clothes or foolish, fragile pride

But you raise your head, Cleveland
For although they have beaten you down,
The dreamless assassin has not yet won
You are beautiful yet, and still strong and proud
And through all the tears and dirt and blood
Amid the crumbling concrete and shattered glass, I still hear your music
In the voices of the ones who refuse to back down
The song of the city continues to be sung
You shall carry on, Cleveland.
You shall carry on.
--"Words of Hope for My City"
04/26/2010

Teeth

2010-04-27T02:16:00.000-04:00

Gahhh.

I had another wisdom tooth pulled Saturday morning, plus I had some root tips removed from a missing tooth. My face is swollen, I look like a chipmunk, which is slightly better than yesterday (Sunday, I am still pretending it is Monday night), when I woke up looking like I had shoved a baseball in my jaw. Ugh. I took some Vicodin, but I am currently in pain and am not in the usual blogtastic mood. I should be on when I am feeling fabulous and in tip-top shape.

Til then,
Me XO

Beautiful World

2010-04-03T14:14:00.007-04:00

It is absolutely beautiful outside. The sun is shining, it's warm, and there's a slight breeze coming in off the lake. I can see this all from my tiny window in my office.

What is it with me and beautiful Spring days? I always seem to miss them. I did, however, get to enjoy a taste of the niceness this morning as I strolled to work. It was warm, smelled vaguely of flowers and gasoline, and no one was out and about yet. I felt like crap, but it was still a pretty morning.

I am still pretty sick, though I look much better than I did yesterday. I am drugged up on Tylenol Cold, but I have a nagging cough and my throat still hurts--and my awesome headache from yesterday is deciding to make a repeat performance. I am currently drinking warm Sprite from a red plastic cup that makes me wish that I was drinking Jameson and Coke instead. Red plastic cups make me think of parties, which makes me kind of sad because I am at work and in no mood to party.

I am, however, in the mood to compose crappy Spring poetry. Here we go:

The sun shines

Outside my window

The wind blows

Caressing the bare branches

On which

New buds just beginning to form

The grass looks somewhat lush and green

And the daffodils are almost ready to bloom

I sit here

Listening to Vampire Weekend

Sipping warm Sprite from a red plastic cup

Lamenting that I am sick and that today is not my day off

Chasing Pirates

2010-04-02T23:18:00.008-04:00

Gahhh.

I think I am dying. My throat is killing me and my head is pounding. I also have an English essay on gender roles due Sunday, and true to my procrastinating nature, I have one whole paragraph written. I also have work tomorrow, 8 to 6.

Nicky doesn't seem to get that I am completely miserable (which seems to be a pretty commonplace thing when I am sick) and seems to be at a Level 99 on the Brat Scale. I have yelled so much that I am surprised I can even talk...but as we all know, frustrated sick Mommy yelling inevitably leads to a fit of coughing, which makes the throat hurt worse and the head pound more. Ah...C'est la vie.

And I was scoping out my Blogger Dashboard, and I seem to have either pissed off and/or bored a follower, because they are no longer following this sporadic and fabulous nugget of brilliancy. Usually my ego would be slightly bruised, but since I am sitting in bed with messy hair, glasses, and baggy sweats, burning up with a fever, frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. (Clark Gable summed it up with that line, I swear.)

So...thank you Argent, for being a loyal reader and follower. If I could give you a golden award for being awesome, I would. Thank you to all my other followers who still follow me and enjoy my inane ramblings, I love all of you and you rock! Spread the word to your friends.

XO, and blahhhh. I am seriously hoping I'll be better soon.

Don't Stop The Music

2010-03-28T17:47:00.012-04:00

Okay...So last night was UMMAXX 10, another of my GM's MMA fights. He owns a mixed martial arts company and he holds fights about every three months or so. I have been to three of them, and I absolutely love it.

I was supposed to sing the National Anthem last night, and I was super excited. I had on a yummy ensemble consisting of skinny jeans, kickass black stiletto boots, and a black shirt that had a completely lace back. I flat-ironed my hair and my makeup was beyond awesome. (See the picture on the right--->) I looked glam. I was also insanely nervous, but that's beside the point.

So I go to the entertainment group guy to find out what the hell is going on, since no one explained to me where I was singing or what was actually going down. He tells me that there's been a slight change in events, and I am like, Oh shit. He tells me to come with him, and so I follow him to the back of the expo center. He decides to tell me that oh, I am no longer singing the anthem by myself--and I am like, umm...what?--that I am singing it with two people from the Army and am I okay with that? Okay, we all know that I am not okay with that, but because I didn't want to sound like a monster bitch and I wasn't sure if my GM knew what was going down, I said yeah, I was okay with that. So I go and meet these Army people, who I immediately decided were not the cool sort of Army people. On the contrary, they seemed very nerdy and uncool. I sucked up my boiling inner rage and smiled in a very convincing delightful fashion. The entertainment guy asked me if I knew how to harmonize. Um, duh. I was in choir from 4th grade to 8th grade. You definitely pick up harmony over eight years.

I smile convincingly again and say I was in choir for ten years--I decided to beef up my expertise because these two Army geeks definitely reeked of pure inexperience. I have to go sing with these idiots, and I must add that hey, the fight begins in five minutes. I sigh and internally roll my eyes, beginning to sing with these fools. As soon as they opened their mouths and began to sing, my inner hypothesis was immediately proven correct. They sucked. They knew absolutely nothing about harmony at all. I tried to sing above them to try to get some sort of harmony started, but I only had a few successful moments of harmony. By now my tumultuous sea of rage is seething just below the surface of my fakeass smile, but I decide that I am fucked and I have to make the most of it.

We roll on up to the cage, and I am figuring that hey, at least I will still look hot. They immediately put the brakes on that one. Someone shoves a white Army tee shirt over my head, and hey, the stupid shirt is two sizes too fucking big. Perfect. I am past smiling at this point, and I strut angrily into the cage. I am then informed that my heels have to come off because they will ruin the mat--why the hell didn't someone tell me that before I went shopping? I am furious. I leave the cage, and they announce my name--which, of course, is pronounced wrong. That is nothing new, people see Lashawn Chillious and immediately get intimidated. I am not pissed about that. I am pissed that my moment of shininess is being shitted on. I have to throw the boots on the ground and run into the cage in my socks and this stupid as hell shirt. I am beyond looking like nothing is wrong--they already started singing without me! I stomp over and discover that I HAVE NO MICROPHONE. How am I supposed to sing without a microphone??? I am so pissed that all I can do is stand there in a silent fury and attempt to sing along with these idiots. I am so mad that my throat goes dry and nothing comes out.

After I am done, I grab my shoes and go to my job's table. Everyone is stunned by what just went down. I am stunned, and I am furious and I yank the shirt off and put my boots back on. I am embarrassed and pissed and decide to go find my GM. I find him in the back of the expo center, and the first words out of his mouth are "What the fuck was that?" He had no idea what had just gone down. He thought that I was still the only one that was going to sing--smooth move, don't tell the guy in charge that you are fucking with the show. I am told that he is going to talk to Mr. Douchey Entertainment guy and that I am singing alone at his next fight.

After that moment of unparallelled suckiness, the night was great. The fights were good, and I had a good time with my friends.

Aha!

2010-03-19T23:49:00.004-04:00

(Taken from Free Will Astrology, by Rob Brezsny)

Week of March 18, 2010

Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21):

The Hebrew word chalom means "dream". In his book Healing Dreams, Marc Ian Barasch notes that it's derived from the verb "to be made healthy and strong". Linguist Joseph Jastrow says that chalom is related to the Hebrew word hachlama, which means "recovery, recuperation". Extrapolating from these poetic hints and riffing on your astrological omens, I've got a prescription for you to consider: To build your vitality in the coming weeks, feed your dreams. And I mean "dreams" in both the sense of the nocturnal adventures you have while you're sleeping and the sweeping daytime visions of what you'd like to become.

I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You

2010-03-04T23:44:00.003-05:00

A few things I noticed this week:

*Spring is definitely in the air. The snow from last week has been melting all week. Yay!

*I am stressed out.

*Nicky seems to think he doesn't need a bedtime.

*School may be the ninth circle of hell. It's tied with work.

*All my major English papers seem to be due the week of month end at work. Either that is cruel coincidence or it is inherently evil. I am leaning towards the latter.

*I am an idiot.

*The guy I have liked for ages is a moron but he is a cute moron. *Sigh* Like I said, I am an idiot.

*Fish is gross.

*I can't quit procrastinating. That would be like telling Amy Winehouse to stop smoking crack. It's never gonna happen.

*I am addicted to buying music on iTunes. When I hear a new song that I really like, I will seriously think of buying it on iTunes until I actually buy it on iTunes.

*That said, I am in serious withdrawal. I haven't switched my iTunes library to my laptop yet, and I have found SO much new music.

*I am so excited because we are finally getting our hours back which means that I can start apartment hunting again. Yay!!!

It Snowed

2010-02-27T21:32:00.008-05:00

I am going to call today "The Trapped in a Snow Globe Chronicles, Part Three". All it has done for the past three days is
Snow

Snow

Snow.

I am, in all honesty, snowed out. Winter, I quit. You totally win. Now slink away back to the Arctic and don't return until next December.

I am ready for green grass, daffodils, birds, and sunshine. Bring on the skirts and the flip-flops. I am ready to wear bright colors and hang up my puffy down-filled coat for the next ten months. I am ready for the smell of sunscreen and my clogged up nose from the inevitable Springtime pollen (well....I can live without that aspect of Spring). I want to see butterflies and tulips and lilacs, go to Cedar Point and ride rollercoasters and eat chili cheese fries. I want to go to the beach and admire our dirty lake.

I will, however, miss the way the snow lays on top of tree branches and makes everything look so pretty and sparkling. I will miss how quiet the world seems when you are the only one out in the morning and there's clean, virtually untouched snow all around you and big, fluffy flakes are floating down from the sky. I will miss the way the cold air burns my lungs after I go for a run.

Bring on the Springtime shenanigans. Come on, March. I'm pulling for you.

Speechless

2010-02-20T21:07:00.004-05:00

"In the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if forbidden to write. And look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer, and ask yourself, must I write?"
--Rainer Maria Rilke

That says it all.

Comfort Eagle

2010-02-19T16:54:00.006-05:00

Today was a good day. I slept in, stayed in my pajamas until 2:40, and had the house to myself until my dad got home from work. You can't really beat that on a good day off.

So, as I mentioned earlier, I gave up procrasinating for Lent. It's kind of hard. I am a natural born procrastinator--putting stuff off isn't just something I do, it's a way of life. I'm attempting to read some stuff for school in a bit, which is a small step, like wading into the shallow end of the pool when you don't know how to swim (which I don't, coincidentally). The hardest part is trying to not think about procrastinating. I think about it constantly. Like, I'll be sitting here at the computer all like "I am going to read chapter 6 in American Government and then study." My brain busts in with a "FAAAAACEBOOOOOK!!!!" And I give in and cook some pie in Cafe World.

Well, no more. I am taking a stand. No longer will my brain call all the shots. Nay. Well...actually my brain has to call all the shots, but you know what I mean. I am silencing the slacker frat boy part of my brain, the part that yells out stuff like "CHEEEESEBURRRRGER" when I'm on a diet or "WIKIPEDIAAAAA" when I should really be doing something more constructive.

Viva la revolution.

Wish me luck. Forty days is a long time.

Do I

2010-02-19T01:25:00.003-05:00

I came.

I sang.

I rocked the mic, made the karaoke stage my bitch.

That is all for tonight. It's 1:30 am and I promise to write more tomorrow when I don't have to keep chasing Nicky back into bed. XO, my darlings.

Hey, Soul Sister

2010-02-18T01:28:00.009-05:00

Hey my lovelies! Yesterday (Tuesday--yes, I know it's after 1 am, but in my bubble of Lashawn it is still technically Wednesday until I fall asleep and wake up at a later unspecified point in the morning. It's not Thursday in my mind.) was Nicky's birthday! He had a great time and is enjoying his presents--unbelievably, the rocketship never came up. He was more interested in his Thomas the Tank Engine trains. We watched his Max and Ruby DVDs, and I was informed by Encyclopedia Nick that Max and Ruby's parents were eaten by a dragon. My son is hilarious.

I should be writing my rough draft for my Honors English class on visual rhetoric, but I'm stuck, and one can only rant so much about Sarah Palin until the words mean nothing. It's due tomorrow night, and I have one long paragraph. I can work on it in the morning. Procrastination is a seductive wench, it really is. I gave up procrasinating for Lent, wish me luck.

In other news, I am singing at the "Solon Idol" in some little bar/club thing called the Blue Fig, in Solon, which is some itty bitty city out in the boondocks. I know of Solon only because you had to cut through there to get to Geauga Lake (an amusement park), which was in Aurora. I'm a big city girl--I mix up everything that isn't in Cleveland or immediately outside of it. I haven't sang on a stage in six years, and I get stage fright. I'm an awesome singer, but I'm nervous. Wish me luck!

Here is my Wednesday Late Night Playlist. Enjoy!

"I Still Ain't Over You", Augustana, (Can't Love, Can't Hurt)

"Sleep", Azure Ray, (Azure Ray)

"Taylor", Jack Johnson, (On & On)

"Speechless", Lady Gaga, (The Fame Monster)

"Uprising", Muse, (The Resistance)

"More Than This", Missy Higgins, (Steer & More-EP)

"Dying Day", Brandi Carlile, (Give Up the Ghost)

"I'm On Fire", John Mayer, (Battle Studies)

"Lifeboats", Snow Patrol, (A Hundred Million Suns)

"Know Your Onion!", The Shins, (Oh, Inverted World)

"Human of the Year", Regina Spektor, (Far)

"Gravity Rides Everything", Lenka, (Gravity Rides Everything-Single)

Meet Me Halfway

2010-02-14T23:26:00.006-05:00

I am sitting at my new laptop, eating shortbread cookies and Nutella. Yum.

It's been a while, hasn't it? I have been busy with school and work and Nicky, and I have neglected my wonderful blog. Bad Lashawn.

Well...it has snowed quite a lot in the past week, not as much as further South, but enough to make me want to shake my fist at the sky and curse the fools who don't shovel their walkways. Especially businesses on main streets. That boggles my mind.

Nicky is tickled about all the snow. There is something about snow that turns children into crack addled monkeys. He gets all excited and can't stay out of the stuff. It's cute, but it gets old fast when you start losing feeling in your fingertips. I guess that's the price of being a mom.

Nicky's birthday is Tuesday. He'll be five, which excites him simply because five is "a whole hand". My boy is becoming a man...or so he thinks. He roughed me up a bit today, then looks me in the face and deadpans, "You're still young, my love." Good. Because I was worried that I was aging at an alarming rate. Thank you for clearing that one up. He also wants a real rocketship, which leads me to think that he will be plenty disappointed when he unwraps his gifts and sees the new Max and Ruby DVDs and not the Endeavor docked in our backyard. I doubt NASA would be too keen on lending me a space shuttle for a few hours.

I am doing fabulous in school. I have high Bs in all my classes, something which will improve when I stop procrastinating and read the stuff earlier in the week instead of the night before my tests. I am a natural born procrastinator. It's a talent. Speaking of school, Kindergarten registrations are February 22nd. I have to sign Nicky up--I'm enrolling him at my old grade school, St. Ignatius. Have to keep the legend alive.

Daydream Believer

2010-01-10T22:21:00.003-05:00

First off, a very belated HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! I've been a bit busy, so I haven't had a chance to get on here as much as I should. Many apologies, my dears. I've been quite the neglective blogger...I'll try to catch up on reading yours and work on mine more often.

Ahh...Ten days into 2010, and I'm not gonna lie. It feels a hell of a lot like 2009, which, in my opinion, sucked. Absolutely sucked.

There were some bright points last year, to be sure, but the bad outweighed the good, especially financially, especially in the last few weeks. Ugh. And my money woes have carried over into the new year, but I'm ever the eternal optimist, and am hoping that things brighten up by summer.

Hmm...Resolutions? I resolve to get more fit, and to lose around fifteen pounds by May. I think I can do it. I also resolved to get more organized, and to try to be less messy. I'll need some luck with those!

I start college tomorrow. It's only the community college in Cleveland, but shit, it's a start. I know if I get through this semester it'll be smooth sailing...All I need is to get back into the rhythm of things and school will be a breeze. I got a grant, so tuition isn't an issue yet. I can worry about that when I transfer out to an university in two years. I'm taking easy classes this semester so I won't feel overwhelmed--no need to slog through math when this is the first time I've been in school in almost three years, you know? I'm dreading math anyways, and I'm praying all I need for pre-law is one science credit, and hopefully Biology will suffice. If I have to take Chemistry, I am soooo screwed. I still can't balance formulas...and when it comes to math, I still have trouble balancing equations. English and History will be a piece of cake, as will Spanish, Ethics, and anything that doesn't involve numbers or the Periodic Table.

It's late, so I'm going to log off for tonight and get Nicky to bed. I hope you all had a great holiday, and wish me luck for this week!!! XO

Dream a Dream

2009-12-25T14:32:00.021-05:00

First off, Merry Christmas!!!!

And now, I'd like to debut my own version of the classic Christmas song of gold-digging women everywhere, "Twelve Days of Christmas". Enjoy.

On the first day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey.

On the second day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A pair of Christian Louboutins...

On the third day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A day with Lady Gaga.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A pair of black sequined leggings.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A rather fetching statue of Lief Erikson.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:A gift card to iTunes.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

An Aston Martin Vantage.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A book of Shakespearean poetry.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A box of oh-so-delish peppermint bark.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A bottle of Miss Dior Cherie.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A ticket to Manhattan.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my occasional hook-up gave to me:

A fantasy bra from Victoria's Secret.

Santa Baby

2009-12-24T17:27:00.002-05:00

Merry Christmas Eve! Enjoy.

Who Says

2009-12-15T22:11:00.004-05:00

So...Last week was a bad week. I got the apartment on Sunday night, and then I went into work Monday and found out that the Lakewood store was closing. They closed Friday, costing me ten hours, or roughly one hundred dollars per week. My boss gave me back two hours, but I was still down eighty bucks. I had to call and tell them I couldn't take the apartment.

My birthday is Thursday! I'm excited. I'm having a party Saturday night, which should be fun!

And since I haven't done this in a while, a lovely playlist for you:

"Sugarcane", Missy Higgins, (On a Clear Night)

"Hard", Rihanna featuring Jeezy, (Rated R)

"Already Gone", Kelly Clarkson, (All I Ever Wanted)

"Paper Gangsta", Lady Gaga, (The Fame)

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

"Riot Gear", Regina Spektor, (Far)

"Who Says", John Mayer, (Battle Studies)

"New Slang", The Shins, (Oh, Inverted World)

"Farewell", Rosie Thomas, (When We Were Small)

"Happier", A Fine Frenzy, (Bomb In a Birdcage)

"The Chain", Ingrid Michaelson, (Everybody)

Me and Mr. Jones

2009-12-06T23:02:00.005-05:00

Ahh...What a week. Full of frustrations, stupid boys and the feelings they give me, and drama, real and imagined.

I'll recap.

Okay. This has been a week chock full of baby daddy issues and the sheer ineptitude of the Cuyahoga County Child Support Enforcement Agency. Last Friday (Black Friday, coincidentally), Le Douche Extraordinaire (also known as Douchebag McGee, or Nicky's dad) calls my house, wanting to speak to yours truly. I, however, am not home, seeing as it's Friday and I'm exiled at Lakewood for ten hours. My mom calls me and gives me the run down. I'll share a brief summary of our call.

Me: Hello?
Mom: Lashawn?
Me: Hi, Mom. What's up?
Mom: Asshole called. (Doesn't she have a way with words, that mother of mine?)
Me: What the hell did he want?
Mom: He wanted to know if you were home today. He wants to bring the papers by for you to sign.
("The papers" meaning the papers I'm supposed to sign so that he gets out of paying child support. Dirty bastard.)
Me: Hell fucking no. I'm not signing shit. I already told him that. Several times.
Mom: He wants to come by Monday.
Me: I'm not signing shit, dude.
Mom: I told him he could come by but I wasn't guaranteeing that you'd sign anything.
Me: Stupid douchebag fucker.

Okay, so I can't call CSEA because those lazy bastards are on holiday for Thanksgiving. Because, you know, they're so busy not finding deadbeat dads who skip out on paying their support. Naturally. So I sit in a perpetual fit of rage all weekend long. Ruins my weekend.

Monday comes. I call CSEA and talk to this call representative guy, who turns out to be quite possibly the most brilliant man I've encountered yet over my three years of dealing with the bumbling CSEA. He tells me they sent a letter out ot his place of employment a month ago telling them to start payroll deducting the support from his checks. They got no response, so they sent another letter out ten days before I called. I'm slightly excited because I figure that maybe they have the bastard cornered. So I tell him I'm worried Douche may skip out and run to Tennessee. Awesome CSEA Guy pulls up info on Douche's wife's dad (who lives in Tennessee) and flags it in my report so that my newest case person can pursue that lead. When I hang up the phone a half hour later, I feel cautiously optimistic. The ball is finally rolling.

And then Tuesday comes. I'm in a glowing state of a good mood, and then I get a call from CSEA. Apparently, "Mr. Serrano's employer is not on file." Screeeeech. Ball comes to an abrupt stop. I ask how is that possible when they sent a letter to his job, and I'm told that "often in these situations, the father is receiving cash payment." Well...I hang up and I try calling my new case woman, whom I find out is on vacation until December 7th. Well fan-fucking-tastic. Splendid.

And the week drags on. I slog through work, feeling like God, life just about sucks right now. I look at that apartment, and I'm happy. Overjoyed. But then my best friend's husband ruins it. The guy I like and mess with from time to time (it's a long and gahhh kind of story) lives next door to the building, and he's the one who told me about said apartment for rent. Innocent enough, right? Well, my best friend mentions it to her husband, but she tells him it's in the same building, which leads him to say "She needs to quit fucking stalking him and get a life." Whoa dog. I don't stalk people. I have never stalked a dude in my life. Nonetheless, he says all this harsh and unnecessary shit which totally depresses me and makes me feel like shit.

The next few days go by without a problem. I'm thinking that perhaps the week will end nicely.

Right. I go to the grocery store with Nicky and my mom today, and just guess who I happen to be two checkout lanes away from? Just guess. Douchebag McGee and his woman. By this point I'm pretty much like are you fucking kidding me, and he glances in my direction and she glares at me repeatedly. Seriously. I haven't seen that fucker in almost four years, and suddenly I have this uncontrollable urge to smack the shit out of him. He's lucky there were no scissors nearby, or else he'd have a pair sticking out from his jaw. I, however, would like to reassure you that I am an adult and did not stab him in the jaw or smack him or even confront him. Him and his skank are the kind of people who will file a police report against you, so I did the next best thing. I talked shit about him really loudly so that he could hear me. I'm not sure if he did hear me, but it made me feel good, so that's all that matters.

I'm going to call the tragically inept CSEA tomorrow and demand some answers. I'm tired of him getting away with this crap. I also got the apartment, but I told the landlord I won't have money to put down on it until after Christmas. That doesn't work. I have to put money down on it now or he'll show it to this other girl. Ughhh. Now I have to try and borrow some money from God knows who this week or the apartment will go to someone else. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Here's to hoping this week goes the tiniest bit better.

Circus

2009-12-03T11:15:00.003-05:00

Happy Thursday!

I am currently eating a sizable piece of pumpkin roll, leftover from last week's Thanksgiving festivities. It is delish. I slathered it in Cool Whip, which adds to the yum factor.

Yummm.

So...I went and saw the apartment by my job yesterday. It's nice. It's a one bedroom, which is cool, especially since the living room is huge. I could throw a futon in there and call it a day. Rent is $525 for two people, which I can definitely do. Hopefully no one rents it out before I can move in. But considering my luck, I'll probably be stuck at my parents' house a bit longer.

I kept Nicky home from school today. He's sick. Again. Honestly, his classroom is like a little germ factory! He also used up his deductable on my medical insurance, which means he can't get seriously sick until March--that's when my insurance starts over.

I can't really think of anything to rant about today...Life's been sucking a lot lately, so I'm just trying to get through each day without having an emotional meltdown. I have an overwhelming desire to stab Nicky's dad in the jaw with a pair of rusty scissors and then not let him get a tetanus shot afterwards. I'm tired of this child support drama. I'm tired of people who can't mind their business and think they can form opinions about my life--when you do that, usually you're wrong, so I'm going to just suggest that nosy people should keep out. It's been a crappy two weeks, and I'm just hoping that my life brightens up soon.

Bad Romance

2009-11-29T22:42:00.004-05:00

I think of you
Far much than I really should
My thoughts linger too long on the curve of your lips
And the way your eyes light up when you smile

I cannot explain the way I feel
This sudden rush of emotion
That accompanies thoughts of you
I cannot even begin to explain
Why

I long to feel your fingers
Your touch against my bare skin
I am dying to feel your lips crushed against my own
Caught up in the heat of the moment
Our bodies pressed together
Breathing harsh and fast
Fingers scrabbling at flesh,
Limbs twined
I long to feel that rush,
Like a snort of carnal cocaine
I feel as though I’m already addicted to you
And will not be able to get enough

My stupid heart
Hopes achingly
Wondering if we are destined to be
That I found you for a reason
My brain is telling my heart to shut the hell up
I don’t need the confusion
I just want to live in the moment and let go
Is that too much for me to ask?

--"Untitled", Lashawn Chillious
(Written 6/20/2008)

Beautiful Dirty Rich

2009-11-17T23:30:00.002-05:00

It's late, so I thought I'd share with you guys that today is November 17th. Why is this date important? It's the day I was supposed to be born, and one month away from my real birthday.

Yay!!!!

I will be 24. One year away from 25, which hails the beginning of my quarterlife crisis. That should be a fun installation in my blog.

And now it's time for bed, since I have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to take Nicky to school. More tomorrow!

XO

Where I Stood

2009-11-15T21:36:00.005-05:00

Ugh. My jaw looks as though someone just decided to haul off and punch me. I had a really bad experience with Percoset yesterday, resulting in severe nausea and dizziness. I had my mouth assaulted by an oral surgeon, resulting in one less wisdom tooth cramping my jaw's style.

Hurray.

In other news, my job blocked blogging sites, so I'll have to save funny work shit for when I get home. On the positive side, I'll be doing a lot more blogging in my pajamas. Rowrrr. It'll be The Nighttime Confessions of a Crazed and Oppressed Receptionist. Or the mid-morning. You get the idea. It'll be scandalous, racy, a tad sexy, and as always, absolutely insane. I promise it'll be better than Sarah Palin's memoir. And all my -ing words will end with a "g".

Hmm...As some of you know, I have an irrational fear of squirrels. Why, I'm not entirely sure, though I think it has something to do with my dad telling me that if I got bitten by one I'd have to get ten shots in my stomach or I'd die of rabies. That could explain me avoiding them like The Plague. Well, usually I just go about my day and stomp my foot if a rogue squirrel is doing his/her squirrel thing in my general vicinity. Now...I will cross the street if they don't run away. The other day I actually felt a twinge of panic when I walked past one eating an acorn on my street. Panic. Like actual fear. I'd recommend therapy, but I'm sure the psychiatrist would either laugh at me or tell me my fear of the squirrel is a metaphor for how I hate my mother.

But I love my mom. I just have a weird, completely illogical phobia of squirrels. Thank God it's nearly winter and those nefarious critters will be off in their trees, jacking off or sleeping or watching NHL or whatever the hell it is that squirrels do in their spare time.

Any suggestions on how to get over this insanity are welcome.

Paparazzi

2009-11-07T08:55:00.006-05:00

(Note: There is no real point to today's post. I'm in a silly mood and started typing.)

I know I've said it before, but I think I'm pretty awesome.

Clarification. I know I am pretty awesome. Quite possibly the epitome of awesomeness. Who's gonna argue against that? (I'll karate chop you in the throat if you do. Be warned, friend.) I've lived a life chock full of awesomeness and kickass things. Being born, circa 1985. Selling my brother for a brief period of time in 1991. The Lashawn Fan Club, circa 1997. Taping toilet paper to my shoe in 8th grade and taking off down the hall. Falling down the stairs so many times at St. Joe's and making it look cool. Breaking Jesus and putting him back together with Sticky-Tac. Getting suspended six times in a Catholic high school. Taping a picture of MC Hammer on the back wall of my Honors English 11 class. Jumping over a box at Burger King and missing the other side and falling in the box, in front of a full restaurant of people. Walking like a really crappy drag queen when I wear high heels. Organizing a Miss America pageant in grade school and getting the boys in my class to do the "Here she is, Miss America" wave. Writing a play in 7th grade that we never performed but everyone was psyched about (the writing wasn't that awesome, but the concept was). Sitting on the floor in Honors English 12 when I really was supposed to sit in my chair.

You can't really plan or be taught these things, no. You just have to let them come to you, just let them happen. You have to be born with that kind of raw excellence.

I'm an iconoclast. I do awe inspiring things daily, whether it be saying something dazzlingly witty or making people roll their eyes or tripping over nothing or muttering to myself...I can always be counted on to jazz things up, to be the cilantro in the spice rack of life. I'm a one-woman production. I'm F-ing awesome, dude. You don't mess with that Nobel Prize winning formula. Nay. (Apparently, I'm also quite the Narcissist.)

I mean, I like to sit in my pajamas on a Friday night (when I'm broke, holla) and eat ice cream and watch Law and Order DVDs with my dad. Why? Because it's badass, that's why. No one who wasn't in touch with their awesomeness would dare admit to such a thing, but since I am the Chuck Norris of Awesomeness, I can and will admit to it. I'm secure in my awesomeness.

I'm scared of squirrels. How many people confident enough with their supreme coolness would reveal such a potentially embarrassing factoid to the world? (That particular fear is getting a bit out of control, actually. We'll address that later on, in another post.) How many people can say they had dreams about being best friends with David Beckham, called him Becks, and drank a most likely vile concoction of vodka and Gatorade? Not too many, I'm sure. How many people wrote wondrous little ditties about Erik the Red and his son, Leif Erikson? Exactly.

It takes a special person to carry the torch of insanity.

The Sound of White

2009-11-06T14:48:00.004-05:00

I want a guitar for Christmas.

No, I don't know how to play the guitar. Yes, I used to play my friend Katie's like a stand-up bass back in high school because I thought it was funny. Why, you ask, why would I want a guitar? Because. I want to be an artsy singer/songwriter with a cool guitar case and a cup of latte from Starbucks, who looks at the world through poetic eyes and thinks all of life is a song. I want to jam out like John Mayer does on his electric guitar. I want even more people to think that I am kickass and cool. Naturally, part of me thinks I'll get frustrated with learning to play after a week and just put said guitar in a corner somewhere and forget about it. The other part insists that I will become a stellar guitarist.

Right. Because I really nailed the recorder back in high school. I still cringe when I hear "Mary Had A Little Lamb"...I screeched through that one quite nicely, thank you. I'll keep you posted.

Ugh. My shoulder hurts. I have like the worst posture ever at my desk. I start out sitting all normal and upright, but somewhere during my day I morph into the hunchback of Notre Dame. I have long voiced to the girls in the office my desire of keeping a geisha in the closet to give me hot tea and massages when the stabbing pain in my muscles begins, but it usually gets laughed off in that "oh that Lashawn is such a silly girl" way. What can a girl do to get taken seriously? I'm thinking about getting one of those things you throw over the back of your chair and it massages your back and adds heat to "relax the pain away." Those are kind of pricey though, so I'm leaning more towards just bitching about the pain and rubbing my shoulder in a melodramatic fashion. Or I could have Nicky give me a massage. He's not really that awesome at it, but it's really cute when he rubs my shoulders. Plus, it's free. You can't argue with that.

I'm looking out the garage window, and it looks beautiful outside. One of those super nice, sunny and brisk quintessential kind of Autumn days we get in Ohio. The air has a brisk chill in it, along with the faint smell of the falling leaves. Of course, I get out at 6, so by the time I leave work it will be dark and blah outside. Makes me want to go home, curl up with a comfy blanket, and take a nap.

Sounds good. I'll leave you with a Friday afternoon quote from one of my personal heroes, Ricky Bobby (of Talledega Nights fame):

"I wake up in the morning and I piss excellence."

When The Stars Go Blue

2009-10-19T10:24:00.004-04:00

I am blogging in my pajamas. Some could call me racy, although I doubt a pair of Victoria's Secret sweats and a Cleveland Cavs tee shirt could be called racy. Eh.

Sorry I've been away. Life has been hectic and chaotic, and I needed some time to sort out my mind and get back to the little bit of sanity I have. We can go into that later.

Hmmm...What is new? It snowed for the briefest moment on Friday, which sent me into a state of weather denial. Dude, it's October, and we haven't had a single day above 66 degrees. Where is my Indian summer? Where? It's been sunny and "warm" (meaning above 45) since yesterday, so maybe, just maybe there's a 70 degree day in my near future. I'm hoping it saves itself for Halloween. Nicky's going to be Optimus Prime (of Transformers fame), and he won't look cute with a bulky winter coat beneath his costume. I also bought my Lady GaGa costume over the weekend. I look like a fool in my GaGa wig, because I am naturally a brunette, and platinum blonde isn't too flattering on a chalky white brunette. I'm thinking some bronzer would work wonders. We'll see, but my costume is soooo kickass. I'm excited.

I was supposed to see Paranormal Activity this past weekend, but the tickets were sold out, so I settled on some tacos de papa at Mi Pueblo with Katherine instead. The tacos were definitely yummm. Nothing fixes missing a movie like Mexican cuisine.

I got a wisdom tooth pulled Wednesday. It didn't hurt too bad, just this annoying twinge every now and then. I think it's funny they call it pulling a tooth, when in my case they just pushed it out with this crazy metal shoehorn tooth thing. My dentist called it "liberating the tooth", like my tooth was an oppressed soul yearning to break free of its governmental chains. I have to get another one yanked in November--this one is impacted, so I have to have oral surgery. What a party that will be. I think after this is all said and done, I have earned myself a very yummy and very strong alcoholic beverage of some sort. I'm open to any suggestions.

Mountain And The Sea

2009-10-09T08:43:00.007-04:00

It's Friday. Yay.

Today is Leif Erikson Day, a day dedicated to that crazy Viking guy who sailed over from Norway to America. I'd like to think he was slightly impressed with what he saw, though I do believe he landed in Newfoundland...I'm thinking he was like "Hmm...This looks a hell of a lot like Europe."

I even wrote a little ditty about his good old dad, Erik the Red. I want a cool name like that. Maybe Lashawn the Loud. Or Lashawn the Pasty. Something that would strike fear into the hearts of my fellow man. But anyway, the song goes a bit like this:

Erik the Red
Erik the Red

Dum dum dum

Sailing to Greenland in a Viking boat
In a Viking boat

Dum dum dum

Drinking mead
Drinking mead in a Viking boat

Dum dum dum

Erik the Red
Drinking mead in a Viking boat
With his kid

Dum dum dum

Leif Erikson
Was Erik's son

Dum dum dum

He sailed to America in a Viking boat
In a Viking boat

Dum dum dum

He made it to Canada
And he built a Viking settlement

Dum dum dum

Erik the Red
Didn't go to America

Dum dum dum

He stayed in Greenland instead
And by the time Leif got home
His ginger dad was dead

Dum dum dum

That is songwriting at its best, my friends. Not only is it a catchy tune, it is educational. Very educational. It makes Viking history fun. It also helps to kill time in a 10 hour workday.

Tonight is going to be a night rife with excitement. Nicky and I are going to Tricia's to paint pumpkins. Nicky is psyched. I'll post a picture of his pumpkin in my next entry.

And the whole apartment thing...I have decided to use that old adage, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." I'm just going to suck it up until I get my leftover grant money, and then after that I'm moving. I was told by a friend that there's like 2 or 3 apartments for rent, so I'm not worried. Every time I call the number on the apartment building, I get the dude's voicemail. I'm thinking the rent shouldn't be more than $600. I hope.

And I'm debating whether I should get the H1N1 vaccine for Nicky and myself. The side effects don't sound too bad, nothing unlike the regular flu shot...I'm thinking maybe we will, especially with the loopy parents in Head Start.

Criminal

2009-10-03T09:54:00.003-04:00

Ah...I think I'll write about my current moving predicament today.

If you didn't read my last post about my David Beckham BFF dream, then you may not know that I was alerted to a wonderful apartment two buildings down from my job. You also may not know that my dad rivals Kim Jong-Il and Fidel Castro for the title of World's Most Uber-Evil Evil Dictator. My dad charges me $100 a week to live at home. I decide that I want to move into said apartment building because hey, I'm 23 and like 3/4 years old, I think it's about time for little Lashawn to spread her wings and leave the zany, aggravating nest. My son will be 5 years old in February, and I don't think he should have to share his mom's childhood bedroom. I've had the same bedroom since I was 10. It's pretty sad.

At first I thought this whole living-at-home thing was a good deal. Then I started thinking about it, and realized how evil my dad actually is. Our rent is $450 a month, and I pay them about $400 a month. All they have to do is add in $50 of their own money and the rent's covered. Only I don't think they do that. My dad has a gambling addiction, and plays the lottery like a horny teenage boy let loose in an all girls Catholic high school. I'm not retarded, I know that that's where my money is going.

So...I try to work out an agreement where I pay him like $50 a week so I can save up to move out. Mr. Evil Dictator won't budge. He calls my wanting to move out "bullshit" and says "he doesn't want to hear it". Ugh. We got into quite a nasty row after that one, and he's acting all stupid now.

But here's the thing I don't get: Why is me moving out being viewed as something as horrible as the French Revolution? I'm an adult, so what is the big deal? Most parents would be prepping for their "Thank God My Kid Is Moving Out" party. I already knew my parents were a strange bunch, but whose parents are normal?

I guess I have to wait til school in January, when I get my grant. Hopefully there'll be enough money left over for the rent and deposit. If not, I'll have to wait til income tax time. Either way, odds are that my dream apartment will be gone. Gah...My dad is so unreasonable, but this might be the most idiotic thing he's done--all I can think of is that he'll miss that $400 a month. Maybe he doesn't want me to move out, but this is a bad way to do it, especially when I want to do my own thing now.

My mom is trying to figure something out. She says if she gets this job she's applying for, then she's going to tell him that he can only take $25 a week. But we'll see. We'll see.

It just makes me want to scream...

If There's A Rocket Tie Me To It

2009-10-02T08:57:00.008-04:00

It's raining. We had one day of sunshine this week, and not one day over 60. Gah. This is going to be a shitty fall. Sweet.

The other night I had a strange dream. I dreamt that I was best friends forever with none other than Mr. David Beckham of soccery fame. Mind you, I know very little about Senor Beckham. All I know is that he is 1.) married to Miss Skinny Posh Spice, 2.) plays soccer, 3.) had a movie made about him with Keira Knightly, and 4.) is not generally liked by the U.S. soccer fans because he failed to deliver when he played for the LA Galaxy.

But anyway. Me and Becks (that's what I called him) were BFFs, and it was kind of funny, in a weird '80s montage from a cheesy Brat Pack movie kind of way. He had that pretty careless hair and I had my insanely nutty hair and we drove around in a red Ferrari convertable. We hung out and drank Gatorade and vodka (it probably tastes gross in real life, but in my dream it was mine and Becks' drink of choice). Nicky played with his boys and he offered to teach Nicky how to play soccer. I think Little Poshie hated me, but I'm not sure because she always looked angry and hungry. He even sent me an email while I was at work. It went a bit like this:

Hello there best friend! How are you? I'm good, at home. God, Victoria is such a bitch! I'm reading your blog at the moment. Very funny stuff, mate.
As always, Becks

I don't really know what would cause me to have a weird David Beckham dream. I'm not a huge soccer enthusiast--I prefer basketball and American football. All I can think of is that I've been sick all week and I lost my voice Wednesday and I drank nothing but tea all day. Tea is from England, all that "tea time" stuff, so maybe all that tea led me to dreaming about Brits? That's what I'm going with.

And...Argent left me a question last week, but in the insanity of my naughty former high school music teacher and his inability to leave certain students (no, not me...thank god!) alone and my crazy weird cold that isn't really a cold but I'm sick nonetheless, I didn't blog. Here's the question:
If you could commit one crime with no chance of geting caught, what crime would you commit right now?

Good question. I'm dying to move out of my parents' house, but due to their unreasonable amounts of money I pay for rent, I cannot save up my money to get my dream apartment. It's two buildings from my job. It's perfect. Perfect.

My dad, however, rivals several evil dictators on our planet for the title of #1 Evil Dictator, and refuses to lower the amount I pay so I can save up and move into said dream apartment. He acts like me moving out at 23 is unheard of. I'll be 24 in December, and I'm just so frustrated with all of it, so I'd say I'd steal a huge diamond worth hundreds of millions of dollars. I'd move out and be happy.

And on a final note, it's still raining. And it's 48 degrees. XO

In My Head

2009-09-21T17:33:00.005-04:00

I am hungry.

How many of my posts have that general theme? That's sad. I need to learn to bring a snack with me to work.

But anyway. I am at work, and I am bored. Rumor has it that they laid off another service writer, and it's cloudy outside, with a looming threat of rain. It's 5:37 PM here in cloudy, muggy Cleveland, on the last day of summer. My day has been a slow one, and I'm kinda tired. Nicky's sick again. Again. Gahhh.

What to write about, what to write about...hmmm...Well, I'm hungry, and my mom is making homemade spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and that's pretty much all I'm thinking about right now. Hunger gives me a one-track mind, ha ha. I think I'll share with you the things that have gone through my mind quite randomly today.

A Random List:

*I am hungry.

*Wow. It's getting cloudy out there. I wonder if it's going to rain.

*I have to pee.

*Ugh. Why did I spend my dollar on a bottle of water? I could have gotten a donut from Dunkin' Donuts.

*No, you have one month to get into short shorts for your GaGa costume. Now is not the time for donuts. Willpower, woman!

*Hmm...Should I stay late tonight??? I am starving...

*No, I need to suck it up. Money is more important than food right now. I can stick it through for two extra hours.

*God, I am bored.

*What's on TV tonight? Maybe I'll just read after I eat...What books do I want to look at?

*I hope Nicky's cough is getting better.

*That's enough, John Mayer.

*Ugh, I don't know what Kim had for lunch, but our garbage can STINKS. I'm not feeling it.

*What the hell is chicken marsala? I hate chicken. Dude, the trash can stinks SO bad. Ugh.

*It's only 5:58? Shit...

And the list could go on til I clock out, but I won't bore you with the unnecessariousness of it all, so...I will continue to stare mindlessly at the clock at the corner of the screen and think about how hungry and bored I am.
XO

Fake Is The New Real

2009-09-19T08:57:00.004-04:00

So. It seems as though I have lost a follower. Let me apologize to that person. I am sorry if I did not meet your expectations of a great blogger. I am sorry if I offended you in any way by the type of language I used, or the style of writing I have. I'm also sorry if I haven't visited your blog and commented on your witty or insightful posts. I'm pretty bad at sitting down and going through all the blogs. Hopefully you'll come back.

I missed Wednesday's questions. Let me get to those.

Do you karaoke?

I did it a few times when I was younger, like waaay back in grade school. I used to perform with my choir in high school and do vocal competitions (which I won). I haven't done anything public since high school, but I sing all the time--at home, at work when I'm alone in the office, etcetera.

A stranger in a bar offers you a life-changing sum of money if you will just slap your grandmother. Would you do it? Why/Why not?

Hell yes I would! I don't like my grandma too much.

Can I ask you a question? What is it with guys who think it's hot to leer at you from their car window as they drive by? It creeps me out, truth to be told. It's pretty unsettling to be walking down the street and glance up and see a random guy leering at you as he slowly drives down the street. Guys, take note. Not attractive.

Today looks as though it's going to be a dull, boring day. I go home early (1 pm) and will undoubtably spend the day in my sweats because I am A.) boring, B.) broke, C.) slightly tired, seeing as I loathe mornings, and D.) broke. Perhaps I'll go for a jog if I can motivate myself to get sweaty. Perhaps I'll take some artsy photographs if my mood so moves me. I don't know.

I'll leave you with a deep quote to ponder for the weekend! XO

"When life gives you lemons, just say 'Fuck the lemons,' and bail.", Koonu the Surfing Instructor, Forgetting Sarah Marshall

Acid Tongue

2009-09-18T16:05:00.005-04:00

This has been a week of shit-tastic proportions.

So...Monday, they laid off two people at the dealership. Not in my department, but in Parts and Service. They also cut my hours down, and there is absolutely no overtime allowed. Gah. I hate money. I do. I never ever seem to have enough...I think I'm destined to live at home forever. Forever.

And then it gets even shittier. Nicky's dad, aka Douchebag Extraordinaire, is moving to Tennessee. His sister told me like two weeks ago, but I figured he was bluffing because I refuse to sign the papers to give up his parental rights--he owes me $3047.64 in back child support, and there is no way in hell that he's getting out of it that easily. In fact, I told him that in so many words when he called me in June to see how "the kid" was doing. My best friend drove past his house and saw one of his cars has Tennessee plates.

Stupid fucker.

Ohio is notoriously fucktastic when it comes to getting money from delinquent fathers. The Cuyahoga County CSEA claimed they couldn't find him for over three years. My best friend found his house on two occasions: once while driving her minivan of dreams and eating an Arby's sandwich and actually driving past the house, and twice, when our sluthy duo looked him up on the voter registration site (it's a good thing I talked him into registering to vote, ha ha). It was simple. I didn't even have access to all the crafty and expensive stuff that the CSEA supposedly uses to track these deadbeat dirtbags down. Call me Nancy Drew.

But anyway, I looked up the Ohio rules on interstate child support cases and was kind of pissed. Like the Hulk about to bust out of his clothes in a verdant rage pissed. You need to know the address of the "non-custodial parent" (which I don't) in order to start the collections process. They have his current address but have done nothing really constructive. I know he works under the goddamn table so that they can't take his money. I know he works because my best friend saw a 62-inch flat screen TV in his living room. (Grrr...) But anyway. If you lack the address (which I do), it takes about 3-6 months to get it (which translates to "we'll take your name and just throw it in a pile of unimportant papers somewhere"). Once they get the address or whatever, it takes 9-12 months or MORE to establish the interstate support order.

Seriously. That is ridiculous. He only has to pay $132 a month as it is. Here's an idea: instead of skipping out on your responsiblities, why not just pay the damn money and man up???? I guess that's not an option, so Douchebag McGee, his bitch-tacular wife, and their trashy kids are just gonna run off and live with her daddy in Tennessee and figure that I'll never find them and that they won. Oh my god, I am just soooo frustrated. Like this is a neverending nightmare and really, all I want is Nicky's money. I think we're owed at least that.

And I know if the situation was reversed, the dirty bastard would be trying to squeeze me for every penny I have. That's the fucked up part. Grrr.

Sorry for the vent...I know I'm not my usual sunshiny self, but I am just a bit stressed out now. I'll answer those questions tomorrow and grace you guys with a nugget of Chuck Norris wisdom.

Mediocre Bad Guys

2009-09-15T15:17:00.003-04:00

Hmm. Interesting title for today's post.

Today I'm going to blog about all the mediocre bad guys that impact me on a daily basis. I may have interacted with bad guy once and never seen him again. It may be a repeat offender.

Okay. My biggest mediocre bad guy would be the crazy guy who craps in the bus stop almost weekly. It's like oh my god, dude, are you serious??? I can't figure that guy out, nor do I really want to.

Then there's the guys at Dunkin' Donuts who take waay too long to get my order together. I really don't want to hear your undoubtably engaging and entertaining story about how you forgot to turn your Chem homework in. I just want my vanilla chai so I can go suffer five hours at work. Ditto to the guys at various fast food establishments who screw up my seemingly simple order of a cheeseburger with ketchup only. Or forget my ranch for my fries. Bastards.

I also have to mention the people on the bus who feel the need to give their purse or backpack its own seat. Dude, the bus is crowded and probably most likely late. I don't think your carry-on accessory will mind if it has to sit in your lap. Kudos to the people who seem to think they have to lounge across two seats. Does that really seem necessary? It's a bus, not a Laz-E-Boy. Sit the fuck up.

There's the people who feel the need to get gangster with me on the phone at work. I know you feel hardcore because the odds of seeing me are pretty slim, but you're on the phone getting smart with a receptionist. How gangster can you actually be, homes?

And I can't forget my fellow parents at Head Start. What a bunch of idiots. How does it make any sense to bring your sick child to school when they have a fever? I don't care if they want to go to school or not. Have you heard of the swine flu? Ugh. I had to keep Nicky home today because he got sick from another kid who had stupid parents.

I'd like to dedicate this post to all the mediocre idiots who unseemingly conspire to make my day hell. Keep up the good work. I tip my hat to you.

Extraordinary Machine

2009-09-09T16:21:00.005-04:00

Ooookay. It's our first trial run of "You Ask Me Anything" Wednesday. I have a few questions, and I will do my best to answer them.

How did you decide what to name your son and what would have been his name if he were a girl?

This is actually a pretty decent story! Okay, if Nicky had been a girl, I loved the name Kiera Rose. But, as it was, I found out I was having a boy, so...His dad wanted to name him after himself, which I quickly shot down because A.) He has a stupid name, B.) I didn't want to name him after him just in case we broke up, and C.) I was right about both down the road, so D.) I win.

This is roughly the conversation:

Douchebag McGee: I want to name him Teddie Jr.
Me: No.
DBMG: Why not?
Me: No offense, but you have a pretty stupid name. Just Teddie, not Theodore or whatever. Just Teddie. Not even a middle name--
DBMG: We could call him Junie--
Me: No way, dude. I want my son to have a name that sounds good no matter what he grows up to be. Your name is really all a person has.
DBMG: ...
Me: So...What do you think of Alexander?
DBMG: No. I don't like it.
Me: Why not?
DBMG: I just don't.
Me: Whatever.
(Me thinking in frustration)
Me: Justin.
DBMG: No.
Me: Joshua.
DBMG: No.
Me: Joseph.
DBMG: No.
Me: Seriously? Jesus...Christopher.
DBMG: I like Christopher.
Me: Good. Hmm...Okay. Brian?
DBMG: No.
Me: James.
DBMG: No.
Me: Nicholas.
DBMG: I like that.

So, he had no idea that I named his son after Nick Carter (from the Backstreet Boys) and Chris Kirkpatrick (of 'Nsync). I just ran through all the boy bands until he agreed on something.

Thus...Nicholas Christopher.

What would your dream job be?

I have always wanted to be a singer. Ever since I was a little girl!

What is your favorite memory?

I have so many! I have Disney World with my four besties my junior year at St. Joe's...Having Nicky...just random little memories that add up to awesome experiences I'll always remember.

I'm gonna have to think about that one and get back to you later.

If you were a candy bar, which one would you be?

I would be a Reese's cup. I'm a mix of so many things (Cherokee, African-American, German, Irish, Italian) that I'm like the best of both worlds, just like a Reese's cup. Chocolate and peanut butter. And, it tastes soooo good.

Or I'd be a Milky Way. I looove caramel.

If you got run over by two asians on a tandum, what would your reaction be?

I would be stunned, then angered, and then I'd laugh because, shit, it's two Asians on a tandum bike. Just something about that idea is funny.

I'd also probably yell at the Asians, and then dust myself off and amble away in bewilderment.

One could only be bewildered after an experience like that.

Thanks to everyone who gave me questions, and I'd also like a lot more questions for next week's installment!
XO!

Banana Pancakes

2009-09-04T13:54:00.003-04:00

I could really go for some pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon right now. Oh my Lord, I really could...A huge pile of pancakes with a big dollop of butter on top (and between each pancake layer--that is the ONLY way to put butter on your pancakes) and smothered in maple syrup. Oh, yum. Yumyumyumyum.

Can you tell I didn't pack an adequate lunch today? I grabbed a yogurt and a juice box of Juicy Juice (courtesy of Nicky) on my way out the door. I was also late, if you wondering.

Ah, story of my life.

But anyway. I know you're all dying (well, maybe not dying, but pretty excited) to know how Nicky's first day of school went. It was great. He loved it! And in other news, no, I did not cry. Sorry. (Ha, ha Nashe^!) My mom took him today and said he didn't want to leave. He's already made friends, which takes care of the irrational fear that my son would be a friendless loser. I'm glad he likes it, I mean I figured it was a good sign when I came upstairs and he was by the play kitchen in a hard hat holding a whisk. He also served me tea in a Cheer detergent bottle cap, which in real life undoubtably would have killed me, but in pretend Head Start world, people drink tea out of laundry soap caps and trounce about their kitchens in hard hats.

Whatever works for him.

On a slightly related note, all this talk about school and Nicky and learning got me to thinking about college. I hounded my mom to find my tax return from this year and I went online and filled out my FAFSA. I'm eligible for a Pell Grant (yay!), which means I can get up to $5350 for school for a year or whatever. I was psyched. I'm going to start classes at the crazy community college in Downtown Cleveland (read: deep in the heart of the Cleveland ghetto, across the street from the projects), for like either a year or however long it takes to get a GPA high enough to kiss Case Western's ass and get in. It's gonna be an adventure, my blogging buddies. An urban adventure. I promise to write all about it when I start in January.

Hmm... so the questions I got so far are interesting (and in Juan's case, insanely humorous), and I can't wait to answer them on Wednesday. Keep 'em coming! You ask it, I'll answer it. And I promise to bring Chuck Norris Thursday back--it's just been a bit hectic in the crazy life of Lashawn, but once things slow down and get sort of settled, my entries will be more regular and more in the realm of hilarium. (I don't know if that's a word, but I love it. I use it all the time.)

So...To recap. I'm hungry. I have a dollar left until pay day. I get out of work at 6. I want pancakes and eggs and bacon. Rod Stewart is on the soft rock/easy listening station that I'm listening to. I'm bored. I'm hungry. Nicky likes school. I'm going back to school. Juan Pablo was run over by a pair of Asians on a tandem bicycle. (I always wanted one of those. I don't know why. I'm too clumsy for a single rider bicycle. Eh. It makes me think of Doublemint gum.) And I want more questions to answer for Wednesday.

Sounds fab.

You and I

2009-09-02T16:51:00.002-04:00

Hey kids.

What to talk about, what to talk about...Okay. My son starts Head Start tomorrow. I'm okay with it now, though a lot of people are warning me I'm going to get all teary. I don't really think I will, seeing as I work all freaking day anyway and I'm used to being away from him. I promise I'll post pics ASAP!

How are things on the diet front? Hmm...pretty good. I have been working out all week, and have been watching what I eat, with the exception of some kickass tiramisu I had on Sunday. Dude, it was delicious. Changed my life for just a few moments.

I have a new idea...Let's make this "You Ask Me Anything" Wednesdays from now on. You send me some questions in your comments and I will answer them on Wednesday. They can be crazy questions, deep questions, anything! I will answer them, guaranteed. It's a fun way to get to know everyone and well, naturally ME.

XO

Sort Of

2009-08-26T17:22:00.003-04:00

I am attempting to go on a diet.

Why, you may ask? Oh, because I went to put on my favorite pair of jeans and had to do a pants dance because they got stuck halfway up my ass. I was in denial for a few days, until I decided that I need to get back into a routine with my running and Pilates and all that not-so-fun exercise crap.

I just need to find TIME. I think the whole Cash for Clunkers thing was when I gained weight--think about it. I'd wake up, eat, go to work, get home late, eat, then pass out by midnight. I was virtually drained. But now that Clunkers is over, I have more time for me, and I can try to get back into the swing of things.

Only it's not as easy as it sounds in my head. I tried some exercises last night and didn't feel the burn or anything. I was a tad discouraged, but I refuse to let the jeans win. They're actually in a crumpled pile in the same spot I threw them in disgust on Friday night. I know they're mocking me, the stuck up bastards that they are. It's my fault, though. I gave up drinking soda pop, but I didn't give up fast food, which is my downfall. I'd grab a double cheeseburger from McDonald's on the way to work or run next door to Baskin Robbins for a cup of ice cream or a milk shake. I feel like shaking my fist across the parking lot and screaming, "Damn you, Baskin Robbins! Damn you for having such delicious ice cream..."

I have always been curvy, even though I've always been on the small side. I love having curves, and my problem is that I don't realize how much weight I may or may not have put on until I go to put on an article of clothing that used to be either loose or tight and is no longer what it used to be. I'm not naturally athletic, but I have a fast metabolism...I think I only weigh around 138 pounds, but I'm only 5'1", which squeezes all that into a small frame. Damn me for being short. Damn Baskin Robbins and their delicious ice cream. Damn all the stupid girls in their skinny jeans. Damn my lack of dietary willpower. Damn, damn, damn.

I'm thinking about going for a run tonight when I get home. Just throw the iPod on and go. I'm pretty fit, just bad at throwing on the brakes when I'm eating.

Blahhhhhh.

Mouthwash

2009-08-21T13:28:00.012-04:00

Okay. I feel a bit of blog lovin' right now.

A few weeks ago, Yankee Girl (Adventures of a Yankee Girl) sent me a very lovely award, called the Honest Scrap Award. Yay!!! (Collective rounds of applause, please) Due to the insanity of Cash for Clunkers, I didn't have the precious time to indulge in my award...Nonetheless, I am muy flattered, seeing as this is my first award, and so, I'd like to thank the Academy and everyone out there who gave this little blog a chance...

Ha, ha.

Here are the rules:

1. “The Honest Scrap” award is not one to hold all to your self but it must be shared!

2. The recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves in their blog that no one else knows.

3. The recipient has to pass along this prestigious award to 10 more bloggers.

4. Those 10 bloggers all have to be notified they have been given this award.

5. Those 10 bloggers should link back to the blog that awarded them.

Hmm...Ten true things about me that no one knows...

1. I am deathly afraid of squirrels. I know I've hinted at my dislike of these furry hounds of hell, but I am, in all honesty, terrified of them. They're so jumpy. I'm scared I'm going to get bit and then have to get rabies shots.

2. In sixth grade, I had my own fan club. I made it up, and the only people in it were me and my best friend from grade school. We had membership cards made of notebook paper, laminated with contact paper. It was both unbelievably badass, and looking back, hilarious.

3. The title to nearly every post I have written is a song title, in homage to my insane love of music. I don't know how many of you caught that beforehand, but kudos to the ones that did!

4. My first crush was Jonathan Taylor Thomas, of Home Improvement fame. I think nearly every girl at the age of 11 (back in 1996) had a JTT poster hanging on their wall.

5. I blew out the microphone during my song in the talent show in 8th grade. I won second place, and learned a valuable lesson: When singing Christina Aguilera, one should keep the mic at least five inches from their mouth. Always. At all times.

6. I was in Who's Who Among American High School Students my sophomore and junior years at St. Joe's.

7. I learned to read when I was three and a half.

8. I have never driven an automobile. Well, I drove a Go-Kart, but I don't think that counts.

9. I got a 26 out of 36 on my ACT. I surprised my guidance counselor with that one my senior year. Stupid skank. I still don't really know how to do a quadratic equation, so there. That's what she gets for calling me to her office during Intro to College Algebra just to tell me I'm failing.

10. I like to read the Little House books. I know I'm 23, but there's just something about Laura Ingalls Wilder that I love! I've read them all at least five times. (I know. I'm a nerd.)

I'm going to pass this on to the mahhhhvelous blogs I've been following that I enjoy...Check them out and show 'em some love!

Where Did All The Pecans Go?

Delusions of Adequacy

JW, BW, and The Monsters

What will I ever do with my life?

Clint Eastwood

2009-08-16T13:26:00.005-04:00

So...Last night was the MMA fight. Dude, it sucked. Unbelievably sucked.

Just kidding! It was AWESOME. Like Jesus walking on water awesome. I had to sell tickets, so I missed the first 3 matches, but...I never knew I'd like watching two guys beat the crap out of each other in a cage so much!

One of the fights (sponsored by our dealership) started out great. The one opponent was from Chicago (blue team), the other from Akron (red team). I wanted the guy from Chicago to win, and it looked just like maybe he would, until the dude from Akron pushed up against the cage and grappled (I think that's what it's called) with him. I personally thought it looked like they were hugging. Turns out that hugging is the Akron guy's favorite move, when he isn't "accidentally" kicking the guy in the crotch. My table was screaming and booing and yelling at the referee (myself included) to break the two up. The red guy won, much to a lot of people in the audience's chagrin.

The rest of the fights were awesome, the awesomeness amplified by the drinks I had. The best fight in my opinion was Bobby Jones, this ex-NFL player who lives in Wadsworth. He was part of the heavyweight match, and his opponent tapped out in like four minutes in the first round. It was badass! I stood on a chair for that one. They also had their first title match last night, and this welterweight from Cleveland (you know I was really loud for that one) won the belt.

It's really hard to put all the fun into words. I had a great time, and it was kind of cool to be the only girl at our table. It was even cooler to be the only girl at the table and to be louder than most of the guys! (My favorite line was "fuck him up!") I definitely plan on going to the next one in October, and I definitely plan to tell you guys all about it!

You Haven't Told Me Anything

2009-08-15T08:59:00.010-04:00

What is it with "serious" artists being assholes?

I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me backtrack.

Last night I went to the Feast of the Assumption festival of shenanigans with Tricia and Josh. It's an annual event they hold in Little Italy, off Mayfield Road...It's been going on for like 111 years, so it's a cultural thing in Cleveland.

So, we roll into the parking lot over by the Case Western, and I see a security guard guy chilling on the curb. He's got this crazy looking Elvis meets Superman 'do, complete with the lone curl in the center of the forehead. I take this as a good sign, as does Tricia. When we pull into the spot where we're supposed to park, there's this parking attendant who obviously is a starving actor/college student reading The Pelican Brief. We have a few laughs amongst ourselves about that, and go on our merry way.

We go past a procession of parked motorcycles, parked police cruisers, and under a bridge that had this really foul smelling mud, then...I smell fried deliciousness, and Nirvana. There's a street that has the delightful name of Random, which I took as the ultimate sign that it was going to be a crazy, interesting night.

We wandered casually up the hill to Murray Hill, taking in all the Italian and non-Italian people chowing down on yummy Italian cuisine and perusing the art galleries that seem to be on every corner. I see this one gallery that is having a moving sale and everything is like 20 to 50% off. I casually mention this to Tricia, since her and Josh just bought a house and need some classy art to hang up for potentially awkward conversation starters. We look in the window at this one painting that we know Tricia most likely will not afford. I joke with her that we should take a picture of it and give it to Tiffany, her younger sister who is very artsy, and have her copy it. We open the door, and are greeted by a surly-looking Italian guy and his equally friendly-looking family sitting on a couch.

Turns out he heard my joke and thought I was serious, though mind you, I was not. He made a smart remark about us taking pictures and stealing people's art, which just wasn't true. We're not exactly art pirates. He goes on to say that if he catches us taking any pictures, he'll throw us out. We roll our eyes and go over to look at some of his art, which wasn't actually all that very good and naturally very overpriced. We whisper about Signor Asshole and are on our way to the back of the shop when we hear him still talking about us, the "girls who take pictures and make copies". Tricia is starting to get upset, and I think he is being a bit melodramatic and a lot asshole.

We are studying a collage of the Cavaliers and LeBron James when we hear the door open and some other customers stroll on in. Art Asshole Extraordinaire tells them to look around and that he'd let them go upstairs but not now because there were "these girls who take pictures of paintings and copy them", like we're professional counterfeiters. Tricia decides she's had enough and tersely informs him that we're taking our money elsewhere, and we roll out like some badass gangsters in a mobster movie, only without the guns.

We vent our anger to Josh, who suggests we let it go and go eat. We go to this Italian restaurant that looks straight out of The Godfather or Goodfellas, and promptly sit down at the bar. Wine is ordered, and I discover a few things about myself and wine: 1.)I don't like red wine, 2.)I shouldn't hold it in my mouth, no matter how untasty I think it is, and 3.)I'm thinking that perhaps wine is an acquired taste and that I don't see myself as a wine lover in the near future. I also discover that I have a knack for insulting Italian-Americans. I guess I'm a freak in the Italian world because I was eating bread and taking off the crust. I thought I was doing all right, dipping my bread in olive oil just as Josh and Tricia were doing, although I was doing more sipping of water than of wine, but NOOOO. I'm an aberration to Little Italy because I don't like the crust on their bread. Jesus.

I come to the conclusion that I do not like wine, and give it to Tricia. She drinks mine, and I want to go back out on the street because I think that I can't make an ass of myself if we're in the crush of people outside. Outside we go, and I go buy some cheese ravioli (verry good, by the way), and sit on the sidewalk and eat. We joke that we should run by that stupid shop and take a picture just to piss that guy off, but Josh quickly shot that brilliant idea down. After we ate, we went to the Holy Rosary Church to get our gamble on (that's how us Catholics roll). After losing our money to the church, we went back outside and wandered the streets aimlessly. I bought some yummy tiramisu and while I'm eating, Tricia sees a Ferris Wheel and offers up the idea that we should go ride some rides.

We buy some tickets and Tricia sees this crazy ride that spins you upside down and looks altogether dangerous and unsafe, and she immediately wants to ride it. We have only enough tickets for one ride, but Tricia has a way with people, and we get a free ride out of the guy. It was like cheating death...I hate carnival rides. They're just screaming of potential disaster.

Before we leave, we manage to piss off another person. Tricia saw this ride operator who looked like Li'l Jon, from the hair to the glasses to the cap, and she yells "Oookaaaayyy" in true Li'l Jon fashion. He was not impressed.

All in all it was a good night. Tonight is the MMA fight, and like I said earlier, I hope it does not disappoint.

Untitled 1

2009-08-14T17:16:00.004-04:00

Hmm. It's been a while, eh?

Not too much has gone down. I registered Nicky for Head Start. I fell up the stairs and bruised my leg up pretty good. I got locked in after closing at work. I bought a badass Michael Jackson tee shirt.

I've decided that I am indeed pretty awesome. I'd like to make or buy a tee shirt that reaffirms that sentiment. I have not drank soda in like three months, which is pretty damn impressive. I'd like to say that I rock.

I have a touch of writer's block, which may or may not be due to the fact that nothing funny has really happened this week. I'm going to a MMA (mixed martial arts) fight tomorrow night, which should inspire a humorous post in the upcoming days. Just think about it, okay? Angry, sweaty guys in a cage. Fighting. In a cage. There's humor written all over it.

Til then, as always...XO

Playing Along

2009-08-11T17:30:00.003-04:00

I got my ass kicked by a 4 year old this morning. Seriously. How many people can say that?

Lashawn (1:36 PM): nicky kicked my ass in his sleep
Tricia (1:36 PM): hahaha!!
Lashawn (1:36 PM): no seriously
Lashawn (1:37 PM): I went to give him a kiss this morning when i got up n he like jolted up n busted me in my lip
Tricia (1:37 PM): ohhh no!!!
Tricia (1:37 PM): I thought like he kicked u in the rear while u were sleeping
Lashawn (1:37 PM): my tooth went thru my lip
Lashawn (1:38 PM): my lip was bleeding n was swelled
Tricia (1:38 PM): ouch!!! I'm sorry!!
Lashawn (1:38 PM): I had to hold ice on it for 2 hours
Lashawn (1:38 PM): it's ok
Tricia (1:39 PM): u poor thing!!
Tricia (1:39 PM): kids are stinkers
Tricia (1:44 PM): Didn't think of u as a "ultimate fighter"

Yeah, so that was an interesting beginning to an interesting day.

I also discovered that I am a popcorn gangsta and a coffee maverick. I made popcorn out in the showroom (we have one of those crazy movie theater popcorn machines) and coffee for like the first time ever. (I have never made coffee once in my entire life. Seriously.) I also got hopped up on a chocolate milkshake from Baskin Robbins.

It was a good day, aside from the busted lip. I was enjoying myself. I thought I was, in fact, pretty awesome. I had made some kickass popcorn and coffee (I think it probably tasted like trucker coffee...I put like 10 scoops of coffee in the top of the machine.), I had drank a tasty shake, and I was feeling pretty badass.

But, as always, what goes up must inevitably come down. And so it did. Let me share another excerpt of my conversation with Tricia:

Lashawn (5:14 PM): HOMESLICE!
Lashawn (5:15 PM): where have u been all my life?
Lashawn (5:15 PM): well...the past half-hour
Tricia (5:15 PM): LOL!!
Tricia (5:15 PM): Trying to close up this day!!
Lashawn (5:15 PM): I'm feeling a bit blue
Tricia (5:15 PM): oh no why???
Tricia (5:16 PM): I'm blue dabbity dabbitaaaa...
Lashawn (5:16 PM): so my boss's niece is working all week @ lakewood
Lashawn (5:16 PM): n I have bee working there for nearly a year
Lashawn (5:16 PM): but she's been there 2 days n she's like their new BFF
Lashawn (5:16 PM): n they don't show me that kind of love
Lashawn (5:17 PM): so I think it's b/c she is like a freaking d cup
Lashawn (5:17 PM): n I'm not
Lashawn (5:17 PM): I feel like I don't have a good enough rack or something
Lashawn (5:17 PM): lol
Lashawn (5:17 PM): but seriously
Lashawn (5:17 PM): I do
Tricia (5:18 PM): OMGOSH!
Tricia (5:18 PM): u so have a rack... forget about that bimbo hoochy
Lashawn (5:18 PM): I feel like my rack is subpar
Tricia (5:18 PM): she's related that's why they are kissing ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tricia (5:18 PM): LOL...
Lashawn (5:18 PM): she made them wristbands
Tricia (5:19 PM): WHAT???
Lashawn (5:19 PM): n they bought her lunch
Lashawn (5:19 PM): they NEVER buy me lunch
Lashawn (5:19 PM): I eat crackers n jello
Tricia (5:19 PM): DUDE!! ITS BECAUSE SHE IS RELATED TO THE BOSS... look, if they are mean, she will tell the boss and they will get yelled at
Tricia (5:19 PM): bunch of brown nosed kiss asses!!
Lashawn (5:20 PM): n she's a d cup
Lashawn (5:20 PM): don't forget that
Lashawn (5:20 PM): n she's 18
Lashawn (5:20 PM): n I'm pushing my expiration date
Lashawn (5:24 PM): I need a better push-up
Lashawn (5:24 PM): and some new v-necks
Tricia (5:25 PM): Your not pushing your experation date LMAO LMAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tricia (5:25 PM): that shit was funny!!

It shouldn't bother me, but it does. I have worked at that store every (well, almost every) Friday for practically a year. No one offers to buy me lunch. I don't make anyone wristbands, because, well, they're selling cars. What do they need wristbands for? They're not at a concert or at a gym. I'm actually a bit upset. And a tad jealous. I vented for about half an hour because I feel like I am entitled to, damn it. I'm sure no one wanted to hear it, but I felt like bitching like a two year old, because I forgot that Nicky had violently attacked me and I chewed on my upper lip, which made it hurt. And I have a headache, which I have had since yesterday morning.

Eh. It's nice to be appreciated.

Summer Breezes

2009-08-09T15:19:00.007-04:00

I'm melting. No, not really. I'm in a nice, air-conditioned office at the moment, but I will most certainly be melting later this evening. My dad, crazy old man that he is, doesn't believe in AC. He thinks it saps electricity. That may be true enough, but it's our first 90 degree day ALL summer, and the humidity and heat index and whatever is making it feel as if it were 99 outside.

Supercalifragilistic. My hair is preparing the rebellion now. Vive la revolution.

I can't stand it when the mercury climbs above 85 degrees. I get all sluggish and throw myself all dramatic across our couch, complaining that it is way too hot and I can't wait until winter. I think most Clevelanders do this, although the average Clevelander loathes our winters. A Cleveland winter is chock full of snow, wind, subzero-ish temperatures, snow, puffy coats that don't exactly cover your ass (I, however, own a L.L. Bean parka that covers my ass quite adequately--being warm doesn't mean being all cutesy and shit...you have to get a bit shapeless amd frumpy in order to stay nice and toasty), and snow. Talk to me from mid-November to late March, and I'm either threatening anarchy or moving to Hawaii, or both.

This type of weather calls for sand, surf, flip-flops, and a nice, big strawberry banana margarita. No salt, extra liquor. Yum.

But the beaches in Cleveland are questionable, I can't swim, and I'm broke til payday. So...I guess I can just put some flip-flops on and call it a day. Good enough.

So here's our muggy, 90 degree Sunday playlist. Enjoy.

"Summerboy", Lady Gaga, (The Fame)

"Call n' Return", Hellogoodbye, (Hellogoodbye--EP)

"I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked", Ida Maria, (Fortress 'round My Heart)

"I'm Ready", Jack's Mannequin, (Everything In Transit)

"Blame It (Feat. T-Pain)", Jamie Foxx, (Intuition)

"Gasolina", Daddy Yankee, (Barrio Fino)

"Sunday Best", Augustana, (All The Stars And Boulevards)

"Good Girls Go Bad (Feat. Leighton Meester)", Cobra Starship, (Hot Mess)

"It's Amazing", Jem, (Down to Earth)

"My Love (Feat. T.I.)", Justin Timberlake, (FutureSex/LoveSounds)

"What You Know", T.I., (King)

"I'm In Miami Bitch", LMAFO, (Party Rock)

"Make Her Say (Feat. Kanye West, Common, and Lady Gaga)", Kid Cudi, (Make Her Say--Single)

And, as a shoutout to my girl Tricia, "Whoomp! (There It Is)", Tag Team, (Whoomp! There It Is--Single)

My Own Two Hands

2009-08-07T15:16:00.005-04:00

I'm listening to the radio. I'm pretty bored.

I wish I was wastin' away in Margaritaville.

Jimmy Buffet is a lucky bastard.

No, instead of wastin' away in my flip-flops and sitting in a chair on the beach, I am here at work with this annoying pain between my shoulder blades because I don't sit right. I've been here since this morning (8 am-ish, to be precise), and the sky was all blue and pretty, but now it's getting all cloudy. Bleeeecccch. I'm supposed to go to a fair with Nicky, so I'm really hoping the rain holds off til tonight.

Eh. I've decided to share some crazy eco-facts I read in a nifty little book I bought (The Green Book by Elizabeth Rogers and Thomas Kostigen) at the zoo on Wednesday. It inspired me to start washing my hair with Burt's Bees shampoo and conditioner and to try to shave at least a minute off my shower time every week.

Here's a few:
*On average, you create 4.5 pounds of trash every day. Over the course of your life, that will total 600 times your average adult weight. In the end, we will each leave a 90,000 pound legacy of trash for our grandchildren. (Kinda makes me think of the trash cities in Wall-E)

*Americans use at least twice as much water and energy per person as anyone else in the world.

*If all American households reduced their food waste by 25 grams per day, the savings would be enough to provide three meals per day for a whole year to each of the 1.35 million children who are homeless.

*Each American consumes an average of 2,200 standard two-ply napkins per year, or about a little over six of these napkins per day. If everyone in the United States used an average of one napkin less per day, more than a billion pounds of napkins would be saved from landfills per year. A stack of napkins this size could fill the entire Empire State Building.

*About three billion new books are sold per year, requiring 400,000 trees to be chopped down.

I was kind of surprised by some of the things I read (according to a "green" article by Jennifer Aniston, every two minutes in the shower uses as much water as a person in Africa uses for everything in their life for a whole day--drinking, bathing, cooking, and cleaning), and it made me think of all the wasteful habits I'm guilty of. I always forget to turn the light off when I leave the room, I hold the refrigerator door open longer than necessary, I take half-hour showers...It all adds up.

It's like that Jack Johnson song..."I can change the world, with my own two hands...Make it a better place, with my own two hands." It takes just one person to start making small changes to inspire others to make a huge difference.

Eh, Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)

2009-08-06T14:17:00.005-04:00

Ah...It's Thursday. So, in the light of it being Chuck Norris Thursday, let's begin with a badassed Chuckism:

"Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding."

(Taken from http://www.chucknorrisfacts.com)

Okay, kids! I promised a good entry, and I will try not to disappoint.

I was off work yesterday (took a much-needed vacation day), which soothed the angry beast known as Lashawn. I had a relaxing day at the zoo with Nicky and my mom. The weather was perfect, sunny and pleasant, not too hot or humid. All in all it was a good day, even with the crazy sunburn I got (I was wearing a racerback tank top and a Band-Aid on my upper arm...These are some pretty kickass tan lines, seriously)...I'm hoping I'll gain a bit of a golden glow, but my odds are slim. I think it'll just fade away in a few days, and I'll be left with my usual pasty tone.

Oh, but such is the life of Lashawn.

Hmm...Right now I'm hungry and a bit irritated, due to my sunburn. A guy with a greased out, curly mullet just paid his bill for Service, and I have to say I've never really understood The Mullet. Was it ever really cool, or were people just too tripped out on acid in the '70s to do their hair? I'm thinking it was the latter. I get the fact that it's business in the front, and party in the back, but seriously...Bad idea. Really. And why does Billy Ray Cyrus want his back? I'm not too clear on his reasoning.

If anyone knows why mullets have stuck around, or why some people seem to sadly think they are both cool and fashionable, please let me know!

It's still a bit busy here at the old dealership, so I'll have to cut today's entry short. I promise to fulfill my blogging duties tomorrow. I swear.

And I'm still contemplating becoming a career alcoholic. (And to answer Juan Pablo's question, it's a bit of both, though I'm leaning more towards alcoholism induced by my career...)

Enjoy your Thursday, and more tomorrow!

No Time, No Time

2009-08-04T19:11:00.002-04:00

Ahhh! Cash For Clunkers hell, part two. No time to write today, but I promise I'll give you guys a lovely one when I do!

Yankee Girl, thank you sooo much for the award! You're gonna have to help me with putting the links in the blog and having the name of the blog show up rather than the link! XOXO

Sympathique

2009-08-03T17:22:00.002-04:00

Sorry, not any time to write today...I have three words for you: Cash For Clunkers.

Oh my Lord, I am so stressed out! I took in over 169 sales calls over the weekend, and it's just sooo aggravating as a whole. Hopefully once all the kinks get worked out it'll be a bit easier, but for now...I'm thinking about becoming a career alcoholic.

Til tomorrow, lots of love and XOXO.

Barefoot and Crazy

2009-08-02T11:46:00.006-04:00

Here's this Sunday's playlist. Give it a whirl! (Happy Sunday, and more tomorrow.)

"Red Light", David Nail, (Red Light--Single)

"Break the Ice", Britney Spears, (Blackout)

"Clumsy", Fergie, (The Dutchess)

"Criminal", Fiona Apple, (Tidal)

"You Found Me", The Fray, (The Fray)

"Banana Pancakes", Jack Johnson, (In Between Dreams)

"Hide and Seek", Imogen Heap, (Speak for Yourself)

"Somersault", Decoder Ring, (Somersault)

"The Way I Am", Ingrid Michaelson, (Girls and Boys)

"Summer Love", Justin Timberlake, (FutureSex/LoveSounds)

"Angel", Kate Voegele, (Angel--Single)

"Laughing With", Regina Specktor, (Far)

"Hang On Little Tomato", Pink Martini, (Hang On Little Tomato)

"Black Sand", Jenny Lewis, (Acid Tongue)

"Mansard Roof", Vampire Weekend, (Vampire Weekend)

"Blue Suitcase", Erin McCarley, (Love, Save the Empty)

"Stormy Weather", Etta James, (At Last! Remastered)

See Fernando

2009-08-01T08:06:00.007-04:00

What an amazing morning this is turning out to be.

To start things off, I have a pimple in my foreheadular region (we'll call him Fernando). Fernando started scoping out the neighborhood Wednesday and moved in some time during that night. I've tried everything to evict him from the epidermal premises, but he refuses to leave--I guess he's decided to squat for the time being.

Fabulous.

Then, after trying to corral Fernando into some semblance of submission (say that three times fast), I tore down my street to catch Cleveland's shit-tastic public transportation. I'm near the end of my street when I hear a crazy screeching sound. I look up in confused alarm, and see the sandy body of a squirrel scurrying in a drunken sort of way over the branch of the tree above me. I sort of freaked out, seeing as I'm a bit afraid of squirrels, and quickly crept away.

After the near-attack from the cracked out squirrel, I made it uneventfully to the bus stop. I sat down and was about to listen to my iPod when I noted that something didn't smell quite right. I look all around me for the source of the funktacular smell, and when I peer under the bench (which I'm still sitting on), I see a huge pile of shit on the sidewalk. I jump up, very grossed out and a bit nauseated, and go out to the safety of the tree by the bus stop. I was mildly outraged and incredulous, because who craps on the sidewalk? Who does that? When did it become socially acceptable to crap in public?

Only in Cleveland, I swear.

And then the shenanigans continue to ensue on this warm and sunny Saturday.

My bus is running five minutes late, which is not cool because if I miss the connecting bus I'll have to walk to work from there. It's only a fifteen minute walk, but that's beside the point when the first bus is late and rolls up to my shit-tastic stop at 7:40 am and I have to be at work by 8. A bit of Jesus comes through for me though, hallelujah, and the connecting bus is late too, and I can run across this grassy field thing at the bus station to catch it.

I arrive at good old Ford, hoping that things will calm down from here. Oh, but no. Of course not. Fernando decides that he wants to see what's going on at the dealership, so I have to duck into the bathroom and layer on the concealer.

As of now, things have begun to quiet down, with the exception of the phones. I can deal with that, so here's to hoping for a sane end to this workday!

I Miss My Sky

2009-07-31T12:09:00.019-04:00

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

2009-07-30T15:50:00.005-04:00

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

2009-07-28T15:47:00.009-04:00

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

2009-07-26T13:32:00.009-04:00

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