Dream a Dream

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.

Who Says

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)

When The Stars Go Blue

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.

Shh. Just Go With It

Psst. I have a secret.

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

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

But I digress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Fame

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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