Friday, July 29, 2011

Foot Loose and Tumor Free

Heck yessssss! Who has a tumor? Not this chick. I'd do a happy dance for you, but since I'm still going bra-less and I'm about as sore as you would be if you got hit by a VW bug...I'm gonna have to pass. Sorry to disappoint. Rain check?

I also want to apologize for not blogging until today...but if it makes you feel any better I did attempt to start several posts over the last few days. Unfortunately the drugs would kick in and I'd fall asleep before I was able to publish them. I give you exhibit A...

You can thank my mom for this picture. Apparently she still thinks I'm adorable enough to photograph while sleeping

Lucky for you, blogger is nine kinds of awesome and auto saved my wanna be blog posts as drafts. So today, when I had the "itch" (pain killer induced, I'm sure) to blog I thought I would read over a few for "inspiration" and to clean out my box. And that's exactly what I did. I started skimming through all of the nonsensical narcotic induced ramblings and y'all, not ONE of them made any sense. Literally, not one. Don't believe me? Here are just a few of the 20 or so topics I felt were completely necessary to blog about...

**Anyone ever feel like the term smart phone is insulting? I do. I mean, I love my iphone like it's my child, but it's only smart when I'm using it. Otherwise it's just sitting there. I'm not saying I'm smart, but I'd like to think I'm smarter than a phone. And a fifth grader. And my dogs. And besides, if it was as smart as it thinks it is, it would know that when I type "titties" I MEAN titties, not "tithes". Get with it autocorrect**

**I'm experiencing separation anxiety now that my tumor is gone. I use to poke and squish him all day long. And now I have a hole that's not squishy and hurts like a bitch when I poke it. I think I was tricked**

**Vicodin=awesome sauce. Constipation caused by worse than this drought we're in. Is it ever gonna rain again? I'm thinking not so much. Rain would be incredible. But not as incredible as I feel right now.**

**I want to get 100 tattoos and then become a super hero crime fighting wonder woman with tattoos that each give me a special awesome powers. Like spidy-sense but so much cooler.**

**I was gonna blog some stuff, but then I got high. I was gonna get up and type a lot, but then I got high. Now I'm stealing words to a terrible stoner song and I know whyyyyy. Why man? Hey heyyyyy! Because I got high, because I got high, because I got highhhh**

**My pitt bull looks like a tootsie roll. A big stupid, smelly, tootsie roll. With teeth. That farts. She won't quit staring at me. I think I'm being paranoid.**

...Y'all, I promise they only removed the tumor, and not my brain. I seriously considered just deleting all of those since they obviously make me look unhinged...but what fun would that be? So in conclusion, I'm clearly headed straight to rehab. Here's hoping I'll do better than Amy Winehouse.

Too Soon? My bad.

Stay tuned for a picture tribute farewell to my tumor and an update on how I'm actually doing. You know, something a normal person would do. Yes, normal.



Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Blessed Beyond Measure

How women sleep the night before they know they are going in to have a baby is just beyond me. I stayed up as late as possible, took some Tylenol PM, had a BIG glass of wine and I still woke up before 6...and I'm just going to have a tumor! Well, have it removed...which is actually nothing like childbirth so I guess that was a pretty lame analogy. Whatevs. I got a chance to hop on the internet machine this morning and read several incredibly sweet messages/emails/blog posts offering me prayers and encouragement and they almost brought me to tears. Y'all are too good to me and I feel beyond blessed to have each of you in my life and count you as my friends.

Surgery was rescheduled last minute yesterday. So now the hubs and I have to be at the hospital at 9:30am and operation tumor destruction will commence at 11am. I'm ready. I woke up with an unusually calm spirit and I'm just ready to get this all behind me (all the while collecting hilarious moments to blog about).

I thought I would let everyone know that I taught Nate how to operate the video feature on my iPhone, so hopefully we'll get some really good "lauren-is-as-high-as-Michael-Jackson" footage for your viewing pleasure :) I doubt I'll be this funny:

But I'll do my best!

Thanks again for keeping me in your thoughts and prayers. Y'all rock my socks!



P.S. I'm also going to apologize in advance if I blow up your blogger feed the next few days. I'll be stranded on the couch, with nothing but pain killers and 3 crazy dogs to keep me company. If I did my math correctly, that adds up to some redic internet time.

P.S.S. This verse has been playing on repeat in my head, so I had to share. His grace is definitely sufficient for me. My God is good, all the time. All the time, my God is good.

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me." 2 Cor. 12:9

Amen? Amen. 

Monday, July 25, 2011

Perspective: It's What's for Dinner

"The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning" -Ivey Baker Priest

I feel like that concept has been smacking me in the face over and over the last week or so. Like God is trying to force feed me the idea that any situation is only as big as the person's eyes you are viewing it through. Y'all ever feel that way?

I realize everyone has their own path to travel, and that each of us is going to have our own set of hard knocks and high's just SO easy to get caught up in your own, you know?

Take this tumor thing for instance. Yeah, it's annoying. It's funny to joke/blog about until it's time to face the music and actually be as brave as you've been fronting. So if I'm being completely honest, I'm a decent amount afraid. I've had plenty of surgeries, but with this one I have no idea what to expect. So I've resigned to place the pain I will undoubtedly experience somewhere between getting 4 impacted wisdom teeth removed and having a titanium rod hammered into my tibia. Twice. You like the scale I invented? Clever, I know. I'll let you know how accurate it is later this week.

Is there some place that you reach as an adult where you don't completely undermine your own situation, and yet still have genuinely heartfelt empathy for others? I feel like that's the direction I'm heading but I still have a hard time finding the balance. Yes, I'm having surgery to remove a freak tumor, and it sucks. Frankenstein scar anyone? But I don't have cancer and I'm not staring death in the face. Yes, I have student loans that haunt my dreams, but I have a college degree to show for it and was blessed 10 fold the amount of money I owe by the experience of attending such a phenomenal school. Yeah, it's blistering hot here in Texas at 108 degrees, but at least I have central AC and I'm not sleeping in a tent, in the dessert, fighting a war. I feel like I play this game in my head every time I want to complain about or dwell to long on something. As if, no matter what I'm facing, is ever of any magnitude compared to how things could be.

One of my all time favorite books is "Walk Two Moons" by Sharon Creech. I've probably read it 15 times but I still feel like I gain some incredible insight each time I open the pages. So for today, I'll leave you with one of my most cherished quotes from the book:

"It seems to me that we can’t explain all the truly awful things in the world like war and murder and brain tumors, and we can’t fix these things, so we look at the frightening things that are closer to us and we magnify them until they burst open. Inside is something that we can manage, something that isn’t as awful as it had a first seemed. It is a relief to discover that although there might be axe murderers and kidnappers in the world, most people seem a lot like us: sometimes afraid and sometimes brave, sometimes cruel and sometimes kind."

Sorry for the wanna-be-philosophical post. I guess legally signing your life away on 15 "just in case" forms at the hospital will make you think in circles.



P.S. I promise to return your regularly scheduled laugh-out-loud-at-my-hot-mess-of-a-life postings ASAP. Also, if you read anything on here late tomorrow afternoon that is completely offensive, obviously a bold-faced lie, has sexual and/or racial connotations or just flat out makes absolutely NO sense, don't fret. That's just the pain killers/anesthesia

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Thoughts and Thanks: Weekend Edition

Dear Hubs: Thanks you for the incredible dinner and night of fun you seamlessly executed on Friday. Ten years in and you still know how to give me butterflies and make me feel like a princess. How did I ever get so lucky? Dear Tumor: It's been real, but Tuesday is where your free-loading journey ends. Squish ya later. Dear Weekend: Thanks for finally showing up. I really thought we'd never make it to each other. Dear Natalie: Wednesday night was the most fun I've had in FOREVER. You are exactly what my week needed and I'm already pumped for our next "We don't waste: Wednesday adventure". You're a pocket-sized-partner-in-crime and I just love you to bits! Dear Dad: Repeat after me: You are too blessed to be stressed. Too anointed to be disappointed. I know the tension and stress gets to us all, but please remember you have 6 other sets of shoulders to help you bare the burden. Even though this week was less than fun, we argued/butted heads and there were more than a few days that you drove me almost crazy, I still couldn't be more blessed by the honor of working alongside you...and calling you my dad. Dear vacation: Figure out how to get here faster. Please and thank-you. Dear Redcar: I promise I'll take you to the car wash sometime realllllly soon. I'm starting to think it will never rain again. Dear Newest tattoo: You are my favorite and make me smile every time I see you. Thanks for the constant reminder that my salvation is by the Grace and Faith of my Heavenly Father alone.



Sayonara Tumor: Part 1

So I went and saw the lipoma guru yesterday and it looks like I'll be trowing a "goodbye party" in the form of surgery on Tuesday. That's crazy quick, huh? Apparently this chick doesn't mess around and is on a mission to de-tumor-fy as many people as possible. Whatevs.

Here's a little recap of how the appointment went:

Parking garage: Have I mentioned how much I hate them? Because I do. A lot. Again, maybe it's because everything I watch is about murder but, really, have you seen how many times people have been offed in parking garages? As if going into a hospital isn't scary enough...

 Take the elevator up eleventy flights and take a seat in the waiting room. I didn't know this, but apparently they hired someone to provide endless entertainment while you wait. Because y'all, there was this lady on her cell phone SCREAMING at someone on the other end, about.gardening. I couldn't have made that up if I tried. Never mind the fact that this particular waiting room was the size of a closet, or that's its 2011 and you there's really no longer a need to scream at someone in order for them to hear you LOUD AND CLEAR. Also, how she digressed from gardening to a conversation about trying to light up a piece of nicotine gum and smoke it is beyond me, but she went there.  Bless the heart of whoever was on the other end of that call.

Filled out a ton of new patient paperwork, blah, blah, blah, then continued patiently waiting my turn. Now, I don't know about y'all, but for me, the best part of a doctors office is the endless supply of trash magazines. Celebrity gossip overload? Heck. Yes. So imagine my surprise when I scooped up the latest issue of People and found:

Really? What kind of fresh hell is this? I was literally little-school-girl excited until it donned on me that, oh yeah, I don't flipping speak or read Spanish (at least not enough to understand what exactly caused JLo to leave Marc Anthony. Not that I blame her. He's always kind of creeped me out). I seriously think that they had a streaming live feed of people from the waiting room and some sadistic freak was sitting back there laughing her ass off at my misery. I'm sure my face was priceless though.

Called back to see the doctor, told to strip (don't you just love that?) and proceeded to dress myself in the lovely paper gown they left. Ok, I'm really not trying to complain, but can you not spring for some detergent and just use regular hospital gowns? Please? Because, people like me, who SWEAT while  they anxiously await the doctor to come in do NOT appreciate the paper gown attire you provided sticking to my boobs. And my tumor. Oh, and the fact that it was blue, and left awesome sweat marks for everyone to see? Not humiliating at all.
So the doctor finally comes in, and is the nicest person I've ever met. Really, she was like a grown up Punky Brewster and didn't even introduce her self as "doctor so-in-so", but instead offered her first name. Winner in my book. She immediately noticed my little tumor friend, examined (with warm hands. A+), explained what our course of action would be and then introduced the adorable little Korean girl standing in the corner. Turns out she had a med student shadowing her and asked if I would mind if she felt on Tommy the tumor (like I could really say no? Thanks for the pretend permission request though. I guess). I said sure, why not, I'm already sweaty, and naked, let's just make it a party. And after this little experience you can now add medical students to the list of things I'm not a fan of. If I was in charge of instructing the future doctors of America (which obviously I'm qualified to do, selling toilets and all) day one's lecture would go something like this:

"Good morning class. NEVER TOUCH A PATIENT WITH COLD HANDS. Class dismissed."

I don't know what she was doing before she came into my room, but my guess would be that she was packing organs on ice. In a deep freeze locker. In Alaska. Yes, they were that cold.

Whatever, she got to feel up Tommy and I guess I can now say I've contributed to the future generations of doctors. Is there a tax write off for that? There should be.

So yeah, I go in to get poked and prodded and pre-surgery prepared on Monday, and then I'll head to the hospital on Tuesday at 3:45pm for the real deal. Best part? I'm forbidden to eat after midnight Monday. In case you didn't know, that's over 12 hours without food. Um, hi, not acceptable. I realize you are trying to keep me from unintentionally choking on my own vomit while in surgery, but I can't promise my fat unconscious ass won't try to eat your arm.

You've been warned. 

The good news is that I should be home from the hospital in plenty of time to watch this week's episode of Pretty Little Liars which is awesome sauce. Obviously my priorities are completely in line.



P.S. Sorry I didn't post Thoughts and Thanks on Thursday. Look for a weekend edition sometime today or tomorrow.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

One Month Anniversaryyyy

Don't you just adore young love? All those warm fuzzies and butterflies and "No, I love YOU more!" nonsense. Presh to death, right? That's where I currently find myself...well, kinda. Today marks one month since the launch of my little blog, and ya'll, I couldn't be happier. I'd say take two has been a success...or a "so-far-so-good" at the very least. Just wanted to take a quick second to say:


Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to start this. Thank you for all of your kind words. But most importantly, thank you for honestly enjoying reading what I write (or at least pretending like you do). I'm hoping this will eventually lead me down a path that pushes me into actually writing/completing a book...but baby steps are good, and this blog has been the perfect sounding board.

So here's to a Happy One Month...and many more to come.



Words for Wednesday (sounds efficient, but it's not)

So this post is going to be a blog vomit combo of all the things swirling in my head. You.are.welcome.

Things that do NOT cure a headache that wakes you up at 5 am:
Hot chocolate with a double shot of espresso ( It was worth a try)
Praying to the headache gods for relief

But lucky for you, I now know what happens when you do all of these things before 7AM, so you don't have to try it. The end result looks something like this:

Hey girl heyyyyy!!
 Nothing says "good morning" like excessive energy, shaky hands, and a twitching eye. OH, and a headache. Winner.

Things I'm looking forward to:

1.) 8 o'clock. Why? Because....

Can you say, winning combination? Heck.Yes.

2.) August 6th-14th,  because I will be here:

It's totally acceptable to be completely jealous. I would be if I were you. Paid vacation time weeeeeeeee!!!

3.) Getting Toga back from the groomer. Ya'll I'm embarrassed by how grungy he was. A big thank you to my momma (aka: grandma) for taking him today! 

4.) Finally getting my house decorated. Yes, I've lived in my house for almost a year and still had a quilt tacked over our bedroom window in lieu of actual curtains. Don't judge me. I've recently been bitten by a mutant grown-up-southern-living-decorate-your-house-like-Martha-Stewart bug and the only cure is spending all my money at Target/Kirklands. I'll try to remember to post pictures once I'm finished. Look for them sometime in the next 10-15 years. 

5.)  Labor Day Weekend at the lake with my familyyyyy!! Two paid vacations back to's a rough life, but someone has to do it. 
Hellooooo Lake DeGray!!!

If you can't tell, I stopped and did that "count my blessings" thing this morning. Ya'll, I know there are going to be days that I get on here and rant/bitch/complain but please refer to this posting if you are ever in doubt about how truly thankful I am for all I've been given. Seriously, I am blessed beyond measure. Saved by Grace, through Faith, I definitely won the lottery on this thing called life.

I wouldn't change a thing...except maybe this flippin' headache...

Happy Wednesday bloggity blog readers!

Monday, July 18, 2011

Indoor Plumbing: It's gonna be big!

So, it's no secret that my current career path is super prestigious. I mean, aside from being President of the United States, or CEO of Blue Bell, what I do for a living is of THE utmost importance. So important in fact, that the fates predicted the enormous impact it would have on society before Hercules was even born.

Duh, winning.

Obviously I'm being facetious. Ya'll, I sell TOILETS, ok? The following is a message to every redneck hillbilly in my industry: Calm's just plumbing (I swear I'm making that into a t-shirt). I had a guy today call and literally S-C-R-E-A-M in my ear for 30 minutes about some freakin' shower panels for a jr. high boys locker room. You would have thought someone I stole a liver for a transplant surgery and was personally holding it hostage the way this guy kept going on about it. News flash: it's not the end of the world; school doesn't start back until AUGUST, so there's still time to amend the situation, and HOLY GOD IT IS JUST A FLIPPING SHOWER. No one is going to die. Oh, and PS it's not MY fault YOU ordered the showers behind schedule and that they are currently still being fabricated in CHINA. If you would like to fly your happy ass to Bejing and yell at the little 7 year old working for pennies to make your shower, and tell them to hurry the hell up, I don't like yelling at kids which is exactly why I quit teaching. Sorry bout your luck. Geeze.

See, to me, that is the best part of this job. I get to build relationships with customers, bend over backwards to make people happy. Out bid the competition and take pride in what I sell...and all of that is double the fun because at the end of the day, no one's life is on the line. Sure, some jr. high boys in middle-of-no-where Texas might smell a little bit ripe if the showers aren't installed, but it ain't like they don't stink already. Just Sayin'.

Oh, and while I'm at it, here's another tip. If you plan on calling me to yell (which, by the way, I don't mind, because your high-pitched-back-woods-accent is comedic GOLD, so please keep it coming) about a part that was supposed to arrive yesterday, please make sure you don't already have it, before you waste both of our time. Below is a conversation I participated in last week. WORD-FOR-WORD.

Me: "This is Lauren, how can I help you?"
Cranky: "I ordered some material last week, was told it was in stock and I should receive it no later than today."
Me: "Ok, so I'm guessing you haven't seen the package yet?"
Cranky: "Obviously NOT or I wouldn't be calling. I needed this stuff yesterday at the latest and now you are going to hold up this entire job site!"
Me: "I'm really sorry for the mix up sir, let me see if I can figure out what is going on."
Cranky: "You better, because I'm about to get real angry and you aren't going to like dealing with me if this don't get fixed"

*Yes, because up until now you have been an absolute PEACH to talk to.*

Click, click, click, click, click, tap, tap, tap, tap, enter, enter, backspace
(me frantically typing trying to keep this guy from blowing out my eardrum and yelling till the cows come home...)

click, tap, enter, click, click...tap...tap....


This is the part of the story where I count to ten, and remember that not everyone has a college degree, or common sense for that matter. Inhale. Exhale. Woosah.


Me: "Well sir, I've just tracked your package and it looks like it was delivered two days ago, and signed for by 'Ray'."
Suddenly not so Cranky: "Well I'm Ray. Huh, you know what, maybe that's what is in this box that's been sitting in the middle of my floor."
Me: *Banging my head against my desk trying not to swear* Well I'm glad we got that all figured out. Have a wonderful day!"


On a more positive note, check out the awesome cup my uncle brought back from lunch today.

Can you say advertising genius?!? Nice job Fuzzy's Taco Shop. Hahahahaha love it!



Thursday, July 14, 2011

Thursday: Thoughts and Thanks

Dear Hubs: You selflessly shared your Kindle with me and introduced me to the wonder that is "The Hunger Games" and for that you get a fist pump and a big fat kiss. Now, can I have it back so I can read some more? Dear Texas: We need to have a chat. When I said I was ready for summer, I did NOT mean I was ready to spend it in the freakin' Sahara. This is getting out of hand, and I'd appreciate it if you could meet me halfway. A solid week of 80-90 would be unicorns-sliding-down-a-rainbow-kind-of-awesome. Dear Uncle: You haven't done anything exceptionally noteworthy this week. What gives? Dear two-a-day-workouts: You suck. The End. Dear Unknown Genius Entrepreneur: Invent a deep-fried-buttery-flavored weight loss plan and I'll reinstate the space travel sector at NASA, buy you a rocket, and give you free reign of the universe. Dear Natalie: You volunteered to house/doggy sit for which of the following reasons? a) to save my life vacation b) maintain my mother's sanity c) because you are the sweetest most incredible person on the face of the planet or d) because your super power is radiating sparkles and sunshine and you are on a secret mission from Santa's elves to spread warm fuzzies all year long ? Trick question. The answer if all of the above. I owe you any item of your choice from your Wednesday Wishlist! Dear Redcar: You need a bath. You hear that Texas? RAIN WASHES CARS. Just sayin'. Dear Dad: You officially brought back our annual family Labor Day trip. Thank you just doesn't seem like enough, so I promise to let you beat me in at least one jet-ski race. Maybe. Dear LOML: You two definitely lived up to your blog moniker this week. Can't.get.enough.

What are ya'll thinking about and thankful for this Thursday? (Bam! Alliteration overload!)



Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Spoiler Alert: Sappy Big Sister on Board

You've been warned.

How.does.this.happen??? HOW? How did that sweet faced little kindergartener transform into a gorgeous 14 year old man-child? I just don't get it.
I was driving home yesterday, and started counting my blessings. This is something I do from time to time when I feel like my mind is starting to get bogged down with "junk". Try it. I guarantee you will feel like a new person as soon as you're finished. Something that was really pressing on my heart was how blessed I am to be a big sister; to not one, but TWO incredible brothers. Have you ever thought so hard about how much you love someone that it brought tears to your eyes? That's about where I was as I pulled into my driveway.

Ethan (Bubba) and I are fairly close in age, and grew up competing/fighting/adoring each other depending on what day of the week it was. It was a natural sibling relationship and one that I cherish more now than ever.

Then one day, ever so unexpectedly, there was Valente. He was the most adorably squishy 18 month old you've ever seen. Seriously. I melt just thinking about those cubby cheeks.The thing that really struck me yesterday was this: he has literally changed my life. He opened my heart in a way that I never could have imagined was possible. He softened my spirit. He single handily taught me that adoption is not a word with negative connotations. It's a miracle that happens when a family, missing a piece of themselves, and a child in need, come together and complete each other with an indescribable love. He taught me what it means to truly LOVE someone and not just because they are your sibling.

See, Valente's transition into our family wasn't immediate, and it definitely wasn't planned. The details are messy and complicated so I'll just say that a stork dropped him off. What followed his arrival was several months/years of uncertainty…with this precious child floating in the air searching for a place to land; and when he finally did, it was one of the happiest days of my life. I thank God EVERY SINGLE DAY he chose us. Because he did. Valente chose us.

I'm so proud to be his sister. Like president of his fan club proud. I'm equally proud of my parents for opening our home and filling it with the joy of a child who needed us as much as we unknowingly needed him. I love that my family immediately embraced him as one of their own. And not just the people that lived in my house. Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins…every single one of them opened their hearts and welcomed him in. It takes a village right? Well ours is fierce in affection and abundant in love.

Valente, if you ever read this, I want you to know that you made us whole. You completed our family with a big red bow and a cherry on top. You are loved by SO many people in a way that I'm not sure you will ever be able to fully comprehend. But please, please know that there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you. It's crazy how fast you are growing up. I know you get sick of hearing me say that, but it's true. If I close my eyes, I can still here your precious voice telling me how the Easter Bunny brought you Power Ranger nunderwear. I can still feel your tiny little hand pulling me outside to play spaketball with you. But here you are, turning into this incredible teenager, who will (sooner than I'd like) turn into a man. The older you get, the more insignificant our age difference becomes and as each day passes I cherish you even more. Thank you for giving me the honor of being your big sister, I promise I will never take that privilege for granted.



Tuesday, July 12, 2011

In Case of Emergency: Mutilate my Macbook

So I don't know how many of y'all kept up with the Casey Anthony trial as obsessively consistently as I did. Some of you probably only heard about it recently when your Facebook feed blew up about the verdict, while others may have (like me) followed this media cluster since it first appeared ever-so-dramatically on the pages of my beloved People magazine ( everyone is allowed a guilty pleasure and I have no shame in admitting that is mine. Just let me). Regardless, if you saw even 5 minutes of Nancy Grace's broken record word vomit about "tot mom" then you heard about the "damning evidence" that was the chloroform searches on the Anthony's home computer.

Y'all there were literally DAYS of testimony and information given about these searches. It went on FOR-EV-ER. And as redundant and mind numbing as that was it got me thinking…if my Google search history is any reflection of my character, or if (God forbid) something ever happened to Nate/any of my family or friends and the authorities launched and investigation and perused my recent googling activity…! Not only would they find me guilty of whatever horrible fate befell my beloved, but they would probably lock me away in a padded room. For Eternity. Don't believe me? Here is an actual list of just a few things I've googled in the last month.

Botox gone bad
Tetris shaped bra
Used trampolines
Unbreakable dog kennel
Embalming fluid
Decomposing bodies
Rate of decomposition
Exhumed embalmed bodies
Household killers
Cleaners with chloroform
Doggy Xanax
Can vomiting kill you
Meth mouth
Arsenic poisoning
Lethal injection
Can you auction off dogs on eBay
Do people actually believe in Scientology
Southpark Scientology spoof
Sleeping pill coma
Can expired orange juice give you trippy acid dreams
Motivating a lazy dog
Is it legal to bury someone on your property in Texas

SEE??? Now, to be fair, most of this is prompted by the classy programming I watch. The rest of it is just me being curious, or using Google to settle any and every argument between the hubster and yours truly. However, NONE of this matters in a court of law. All that does matter is perception and y'all that list makes me look anything but innocent.You can't just blindly trust "the Man" people...because in copville USA you are guilty until proven otherwise.

So I have devised a plan (which you are welcome to use) that I think is pretty ingenious. I have selected a few trustworthy individuals who have agreed to be solely responsible for destroying my laptop if anything happens to me, Nate or both of us. And I don't just mean chunk it off a balcony. Have you seen CSI? They can still tell you how many times you watched Rebecca Black's "Friday" after a 30 foot fall. I mean really destroy. I'm talking, beat the shit out of it with a sledge hammer, light it on fire, soak it in the bottom of the pool, have my Grandpa run it over with his John Deere and then feed it to my Pitt bull D-E-S-T-R-O-Y it. I don't want to cast a shadow of suspicion on anyone I'm associated with, and Lord only knows what voodoo magic those hacker wackos can use to connect the dots and pin my death on you. Yes, your well being is still important to me, even beyond the grave.




P.S. If you need me to be that special someone that obliterates your laptop after your untimely passing, just let me know. I would love to add that responsibility to my resume.

Monday, July 11, 2011

I'm too sexy for my tumor...

You like that title? I came up with it all on my own while skipping out of Mansfield Methodist Hospital this afternoon. Sidebar: Texas, it is too effing HOT. Seriously, I'm so sick of sweating it's redic.

Back to the tumor thing. So, about 8 months ago (ish? I can't be sure, my memory sucks) I noticed this little quarter sized squish ball on my rib cage just south of my left chesticle/boobala. No big deal, right? I didn't think so. I just figured I'd put on some weight (which I had) and in return God decided to ridicule me by giving me awesome under-bra fat (also commonly referred to as underboob) that nothing but a one piece bathing suit could hide. Whatever, God, I got this. You think I'm going to wallow in shame over a tiny little dumpling that is not exactly anatomically correct? Well, you're exactly right. BYE! Bye self-esteem! See ya on the flip side.

Fast forward to the present and I've been working out like a Nazi (the last week not withstanding because of the puking virus I had) and losing weight slowly but surely. For some reason in my head, I had decided my cute little tumor ball would diminish as I blasted (or dusted, because ya'll, getting fat is so much easier than getting skinny. Cruel.) away body fat. *I really don't have body issues I just like to complain that I no longer wear a double 0 and that I"m the only person in my family tree with a butt. Sorry for the confusion*

Unfortunately, that's not exactly how this medical stuff works. The skinnier I get, the more noticeable said tumor becomes. Actually, I'm pretty sure it's taking on a life of its own because now its the size of an egg. Awesome. So today, I call my doctor and finaly decided to go find out exactly what's going on (and you can keep the "OMG, Lauren you should have gone to the Dr. immediately" comments to yourself. My mother took care of all of those this afternoon. She says you're welcome). One cold exam table and a legal "let me feel your boobie region" later and bing, bang, boom we have a diagnosis. It's called a lipoma and you can read all about it here. Pretty much its just a BENIGN little fatty tissue tumor. No big. Except for the fact that, due to it's stellar location, I'm just one nipple short of being a three tittied side show at this year's state fair. I called Victoria Secret and asked if they would make me a custom tri-cup bra and they just said no and hung up on me. Rude? All I need is something fashioned in the shape of a tetris know, the one's that look like this:
And I'd be all set. TMI? Sorry. So, since Victoria's Secret is rude, and I'm no good at sewing my own undergarments, I was only left with once logical solution: get the little bastard removed. I have an appointment on the 22nd to meet with some special dumpling-tumor-remover and figure out when I get to say farewell to my unwelcome little guest. I'm hoping for an awesome scar that I can either: a) incorporate into an incredible tattoo, or b) use to make up a super believable shark-attack-giant-squid encounter in which I conquer the animal kingdom like a Jacques Cousteau/Steve Irwin Ninja. It's ok to be a little jealous.

So, yeah...there's the story of how I'm just too sexy for my tumor. I'll keep you posted after I visit the lipoma guru and let you know when I'll be holding the memorial service for my dead/detached tumor, because y'all are all invited. Feel free to bring beer flowers.

I'd like to apologize to anyone I unknowingly embarrassed with this post. But really, if you know me at all, you had to know it was I'm not all that sorry. It's the thought that counts right?

Happy Monday!!



P.S. I'm in no way blaming Nathan for my tumorfriend, but there might just be something to this video...

...Just sayin'

Saturday, July 9, 2011


So far this weekend I've been able to hone in on/practice my domestic goddess skills like you read about. I've vacuumed, dusted, done laundry, taken out the trash, and blah, blah, blah. Unfortunately, none of those activities provide very riveting blog inspiration....Unless you consider the fact that I literally sucked up enough dog hair in the Dyson to create another furry-four-legged-resident in our house, read: EW, that is disgusting.  So, I figured I'd just pick a random thing from my list and put it out here. So here you go...

Day 5 Prompt: A song to match your mood:



Friday, July 8, 2011

Friday Confession/ 30 prompts

Hey y'all! So here is my Friday confession: Sometimes, I'll log onto my little bloggy completely determined to sit down and post something awesome, and all of the sudden I realize a.) I've completely lost my train of thought, or b.) forgotten exactly what it was I had to say before I fired up the Mac. That being said, this week while perusing the internet machine, I found this adorable little challenge and decided I'll use this list on the aforementioned occasions when I seem to have lost my marbles. As a disclaimer I'd just like to mention that I'm not planning on going in any particular order since I (hopefully) won't be using the list  with any predetermined consistency. So it's going to be one of those blind-folded-reach-my-hand-into-a-hat-and-pick-whichever-prompt-strikes-a-chord-on-that-day kind of list. Ya dig?

Also, I've got that little "drop me a line" tab on the blog...SO, If you have any particular topic you'd like to have me write about, any questions you'd like answered, any item off of the list that you are just dying to know/read about, or just a random thought you think I'd be able to provide an insane interesting spin on, please feel free to shoot me an email, or leave a comment and I'll be more than happy to oblige :) OK, without further adieu, here's the list!


Day 1: A photo and 5 interesting facts
Day 2: Meaning behind your blog name
Day 3: Your first love
Day 4: Your parents
Day 5: A song to match your mood
Day 6: A picture of something that makes you happy
Day 7: Favorite movies
Day 8: A place you've traveled to
Day 9: A favorite picture of your best friend(s)
Day 10: Something you're afraid of
Day 11: Favorite TV shows
Day 12: Something you don't leave the house without
Day 13: Goals
Day 14: A picture of you last year - how have you changed?
Day 15: Bible verse
Day 16: Dream house
Day 17: Something you're looking forward to
Day 18: Favorite place to eat
Day 19: Something you miss
Day 20: Nicknames
Day 21: Favorite picture of yourself
Day 22: What's in your purse?
Day 23: Favorite movie
Day 24: Something you've learned
Day 25: Put your iPod on shuffle - first 10 songs
Day 26: Your dream wedding
Day 27: Original photo of the city you live in
Day 28: Something that stresses you out
Day 29: 3 wishes
Day 30: A picture of yourself this day and 5 good things that happened since you started the challenge



Thursday, July 7, 2011

PS: Addition to Thurday's Thoughts and Thanks

Dear Planking: Thanks for providing hours of endless entertainment. Reason# 5,263 that my job is awesome.

Spontaneous planking in the warehouse. On a mop sink. Hey Dad, look! I'm doing a really good job of keeping everyone on their A game while you're gone! Aren't you proud? :)

Go here for some hysterical planking pics.

Do any of you awesome readers out there play the planking game? If so, email me your best stuff and I'll put them on the bloggity blog!

Happy Thursday!

Thursday: Thoughts and Thanks

Dear Hubs: Thanks for always going to the grocery store. I promise from now on I'll try to channel my inner June Cleaver and be a better house wife. Dear Uncle: You THREW AWAY your awesome "No Diggity, No Doubt" bracelet?!? Don't worry, I saved it from the trash can and plan on wearing it for always. You're welcome :) Dear Britney: Your twitter shout out made my day. You are stupendous with a side of awesome sauce. If I ever do write a book, you can bet your butt you'll be all over the dedication page. Dear The Band Perry: Your album is the soundtrack to my summer. Love it! Dear Amy: This is your conscience...have you done your Thursday letters yet? Dear Body: I am about to abuse diet and exercise you into beach-bikini-high-school-skinny shape. You ready? No? Well, too bad. I promise to reward you with an awesome tan and all the junk food you can stand once we get to Alabama. Dear Door-To-Door Terminix Salesgirl: I'm so sorry your job requires that you traipse around in the blistering Texas heat. However, I think your job is eventually going to work wonders on your presentation skills. Here's a tip, if you want me to buy your super-deluxe-roach-killing-package-of-wonder, try selling it with a smile. Just a tip from your friendly neighborhood toilet salesman.



Wednesday, July 6, 2011

A day in the life of a toilet salesman

A picture montage of my day. You're welcome.

Jumped ever so groggily into redcar.

YouTube Video

Watched this adorable video of the littlest LOML dancing his heart out (I was sitting in traffic, calm down). P.S. please ignore the fact that it appears Nate is beating Kenz with a pillow. It was a "game" that she started We like to play rough, don't worry about it.

Arrived at work and realized I had unknowingly transported a stowaway in redcar. Ok, that's a lie. My job just rocks and I took Toga with me because I can. Don't be j.

Drank some spark because its awesome and the closest thing to adderall that I can get my hands on. Don't judge me.

Gave thanks for the wonder that is Pandora while simultaneously jamming out to Secondhand.

Had second thoughts about bringing the most spoiled dog in freaking America to work. Read: he annoyed the shit outta me for 2 hours because apparently the Office isn't nearly as fun as grandmas and he felt jipped. Welcome to my life.

Realized I wore two completely different socks to work. Nbd. At least they're both animal print? Maybe? Shut it. I've already openly admitted I'm the worlds worst grown up.

Messed around with the p.o.s. stamp machine from hell. I swear this thing is possessed. I want the two hours of my life that it took to fix this thing back.

Noticed this adorable sign Nate bought me. Love it. Mean it. Ps. He's a jerk. (Ok, not really, but he likes to say my blog is too sappy. So take that, hubs.) loveyoumeanit!!

Enjoyed a little Switchfoot. Ok. Really I was just starving and it was only 10:30 so I was trying to do anything to distract my mind from the fact that my stomach had already eaten itself and was moving on to my kidneys.

Got this, this, and this. They each made me SO happy and smile (real big)!! I have the best friends ever, no question.

Missed her. A lot. Like everyday since she left. Cruel joke having us live a world a part, God.

Decided for sure that this will be my next tattoo, just going to add a bluebonnet in his beak. (Maine state bird, the chickadee.LOVE)

Finally gave in and got lunch (@ 11:30.) YOU ARE! Whatever boot-camp-starvation-diet commences tomorrow so jokes on me.

Took some time to admire our first class decor. Bet your office doesn't have a pot-ted plant, does it? Pun completely intended.

Places on my body I didn't even know could sweat, did. Hotter than hell and it's just getting started. Winner.

Team douchebag (aka Uncle and Dad) modeled their killer hats for the company golf tourney this weekend. P.s. They actually bought WHITE TUX PANTS to wear with these hats. We're so professional sometimes it's hard to deal with. The high class environment makes our office super stuffy. Really, y'all need to learn to let your hair down every now and then.

Another picture because obviously one is not enough. Uncle, you have officially taken center stage on the blog more than anyone else. Share the spotlight won't you? Attention whore.

Dropped this off at a customers because some fur-coat-make-up-wearing-tranny at our office can't seem to grasp the concept of a ship to address. That's a butterfly valve, for those of you playing along at home.

Went by moms and loved on Sugar/said goodbye to dad until Sunday. Promised I'd try to keep everyone at the office in line while they are out of town representing our company in their Lloyd and Harry hats. I've really got some big shoes to fill.

So yeah, this was pretty much my day. I'd say it was about par for the course. What does a typical day at your job look like?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Sick day

Spent today at home, sick with a virus that just won't quit and the pit bull decided this would make me feel all better...Really? Thanks for the hug Lady, but you smell like dirty socks and if you don't move soon I'm liable to puke on you. Capiche?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Everything I watch is about murder.

As much as I would like to, I can't take credit for this clever post title. Nope. That little gem came straight out of the mouth of my lovely mother. And she's totally, completely, 100% right. Unless I'm living out some indiscernible adolescent fantasy while watching Pretty Little Liars or Secret Life (shut. it. down. I know I'm 24. Just let me) then you can bet your bottom dollar the programming I'm tuning in to is dripping with death.

Literally, my DVR is overflowing with episodes of Criminal Minds, 48 hours, Dateline, Dr. G: Medical Examiner, Lockup: Raw, Law & Order, CSI, any/every thing that airs on Investigation Discovery, etc. Normal? Probably not. But my parents are the same way. So much so that the three of us sat and "discussed" the Casey Anthony trial for hourssss today. I know that's going on in living rooms all over the country ( Christmas in freaking July!); But what's probably NOT happening in your house is that at different points throughout the conversation, not one, but EACH of us got confused and started injecting things in to the story that were actually the details of the untimely demise of some other schmuck that we watched during the commercial break. Or last night. Or last week? Y'all it's hard to keep up with that many people getting whacked. Whatever. Don't judge me.

I have a steady grip on reality. I'm a functioning member of society. And I'm happy to report that I haven't even the slightest desire to kill anyone (but just so we're clear, you'd never be able to pin it on me if I did. Forget this "I almost got away with it" nonsense. Just Sayin').

Anyway, the point (yes, there's a point to the story, and I'm getting to it. Please keep reading. I promise I'm not crazy). SO, now that you know I mighttt watch one too many not-so-family-friendly, viewer discretion advised moments throughout the week, you'll understand why I behaved the way I did in this week's episode of: I'm anything BUT a good Samaritan.

I posted last night about my inability to catch the elusive sandman and get some sleep. Well the midnight munchies set in and I knew I wasn't going to be able to ignore them. So I jumped in redcar and headed to Burger King (because even at 3 am I like to have it my way. Read: I'm changing my name to Fatty McFat Fat), even though it's not exactly located in the safest neighborhood. I order, pay, get my food, remain COMPLETELY aware of my surroundings (because I literally just finished watching this chick get snagged from a park in broad daylight and her screaming face was the last thing I saw on the TV before leaving my house on this little excursion) and try to leave. That's when I see it. The beat up oldsmobile with one functioning headlight, a duct taped on side mirror and the captain of the sketch squad sitting behind the wheel. I instinctively lock my door, but my window was still down from the drive through, so when he HOLLERED/honked at me (freak) I couldn't help but look in his direction (while simultaneously grabbing my mace). He steps out of his car wearing the sorriest excuse of a wanna-be-rent-a-cop uniform I've ever laid eyes on. Security Guard my ass. He was hunting for the missing piece of flesh for his serial killer suit and I wasn't about to be his latest victim. My momma didn't raise no fool. 27 red flags go off in my head as he starts talking to me.

The conversation that followed went something like this:

Jeffery Domer Captain Creepo: "Ma'am, I was sitting here watching this building..."


Y'all he pointed to the shell remnants of a K-mart shopping center that has been out of business since Clinton was in office. You can't make this shit up.


Me: Why are you "watching" an empty building?
CC: Because that's my job...
Me: Someone hired you to watch a building that's been empty since the 90's?
CC: Um, well, yeah. I guess.
Me: You guess? Well, Ok then. Thanks for clearing that up.
CC: Look, I was just sitting in my car with the lights on, and my battery died. Would you give me a jump? I have the cables and everything (He proceeds to hold up a wire that would not have charged his car...since it was an EXTENSION CORD) It'll just take a second.
**Red flag**20 red flags**redcar's engine starts humming stranger danger**WHY AM I STILL SITTING HERE??!**

Me: No, I don't have any shoes on (totally the truth). And you have a perfect view of the building from right there. I think you're all set. All you have to do is keep your eyes open. No need for a jump. Have a good night!
CC: Can you please just get out of the car and help me? I really want to cut the skin off of your face and wear it to my birthday party.

Ok. Maybe he didn't say the last part, but I swear that's what I heard.

I continued to tell him no and pointed to another random psycho sitting in a corner spot (waiting on his dealer) and said I was sure he would love to help him.

At this point Captain Creeper starts walking towards my car, and I got the sinking feeling the joke was going to be on me if I didn't get the hell outta dodge. FAST. So that's exactly what I did.

In hindsight he may have been telling the truth. Maybe he really was doing what he said he was and just needed some help. Unfortunately for him I think I have a knack for picking out sociopaths and I'm not in the business of being anyone's easy kill.

I may have lost a jewel in my crown for failing this WWJD test. But you know what? Thanks to my overly dramatic reaction at least I'll still have my head to put it on.

Better safe than sorry?

Ps. His name was Carl. CARL. His name tag said it all. He was definitely a murderer.

Insomnia leads to...Twitter?

Sooo...I caved to the adorable little blue bird. Who was I kidding trying to resist that feather brain anyway? It was inevitable. Click my link to follow my journey on the Twitter machine. Weeeeeee!! Go on, you know you wanna. All the cool kids are doing it.
In completely unrelated news...I apparently use 3 day weekends as an excuse to act like a 17 year old and stay up until 4 am eating Pringles and stalking blogs to the point that my eyes want to fall out of my face.

Duh, winning.
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