I like my sleep. No, I love my sleep. It makes me very cranky when I miss out on sleep. I am not a nap person, I don’t need 10 hours a night, but when it’s time for bed, I can think of nothing else I would rather be doing. Plus, since we got our new bed, I am obsessed with sleeping more than ever.
I am sure that those of you with kids want to tell me to stick it, but I don’t have kids. These are the days to stockpile my sleeping hours. I know they will be few and far between if we ever decide to start a family. The stupid dogs are bad enough. The other night, Hazel decided she wanted to destroy the birds outside. We were sleeping with our window open and she was just running around the room going completely insane, listening to the hundreds of birds chirping. I was up at 3am that morning. I did not go back to bed. This was the beginning of "Who Needs Sleep 2008".
These past two weeks, for some reason, I cannot get to bed before midnight. I get up for work at 6am. I have learned that 6 hours is no good. I want 8. I have been dragging myself to work, barely awake, barely able to type, barely able to speak. I usually become coherent around noon. Thank God I do not operate heavy machinery. I would be a goner for sure.
I have to admit, that I totally have a thing for guys with longer hair. There is just something about it. However, I am very particular on what flowy locks get my approval. Guys that have had the same hair since 1994 do not qualify.
Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player tags other people and posts their name, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they've been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Here goes nothin'.
What was I doing 10 years ago?
Hmmm, 10 years ago I was almost done with my Junior year of high school. I probably had already checked out and was just going through the motions until summer break finally began. Beyond that, I remember nothing.
Five Snacks I Enjoy:
3. Cheese and crackers
Things I Would Do If I Were a Billionaire:
3. Take care of my family/friends (just one) forever
4. Have loads of fun
5. Build an eco-friendly house
Five Places I Have Lived:
1. New York
5. Dublin, Ireland (That one is just a wish)
Five People I Want to Get to Know Better (A nice way of saying “Tag. You’re it!”)
5. Scary Mommy
Hi. I’m Chloe and I’m 4.
Hello. I’m Lauren and I’m 26.
Yep. That’s old huh?
I remember when I was little and I used to think 30 was old. How times have changed.
There is one woman here, I swear to God, that has done or been involved with more messed up things than anyone I know. And I know some messed up people. It's fine. I am not judging her. But, the thing is, I am not her friend. I am barely an acquaintance and I know EVERYTHING about her.
There is also a group of people that sit behind me that "share" with each other throughout the day. I sit in awe, while pretending to listen to my iPod, listening to every word they say. Do they not see these conversations better fit for happy hour? Maybe they could dish their dirt at Starbucks one evening? Am I asking too much? I should say I used to just pretend to listen to my iPod. Now, I really do. I don't care what happened to them when they were little. I don't want to hear about how awesome it was when they cheated on their husband.
The only thing anyone knows about me here is that I am married and I actually like my husband. I do fun things with my weekends. We have been working on our house. That's it, and that's all they will ever know.
Every night when I leave this place, I think, wow-my life rocks. Everyone has their stories, their past, but my coworkers are some seriously F-ed up people.
Trips I made to ABC plumbing for random sprinkler parts=25,003
Times Kenny called me a F-ing retard=1
Leaks Kenny had to fix in the crawl space=3
Total number of hours our entire house smelled like poop because of the topsoil=48 and counting
Times I whined about helping=Way more than I should have
Total number of times I went into the crawl space=0 (I will not go in that place……scary)
Number of times I swept the kitchen floor=3 before realizing that it would keep getting messed up-just leave it
Times I want to redo a yard again in my lifetime=0
Number of mac-n-cheese snacks consumed from Sonic=6 (Have you tried them? They are FRIED mac-n-cheese and they are TO DIE FOR)
I love cheese, so if I'm given an opportunity to add it to my food, I'm all over it.
1 pound large red potatoes
3/4 cup coarsely grated Gruyere (about 3 ounces)
1 large egg
3/4 cup milk, heated just to boiling
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Butter a 1-quart gratin or shallow baking dish.
Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil. Peel potatoes and cut into thin slices (about 1/8-inch thick). Add potatoes to boiling water and cook approx. 4 minutes (a bit longer in high altitude). Drain potatoes well in a colander.
In gratin or baking dish, arrange potatoes, overlapping them, in 3 layers, sprinkling first 2 layers each with 1/4 cup Gruyere and salt and pepper, to taste.
In a small bowl whisk egg and add hot milk in a stream, stirring constantly. Season mixture with salt and pepper and pour evenly over potatoes. Sprinkle the potatoes with remaining 1/4 cup cheese and bake until top is golden and potatoes are tender, about 30 minutes
Many times, people tend to think I am a very proper person when we first meet. I don’t think I look very proper, but I guess it is a vibe I give off? The first time I drop an F-bomb, they look at me like, “Oh, isn’t that cute? The innocent girl just swore.” All those that know me, know that I use that word way more than I should. I know it can be tacky, but frankly, many times there is no better word. Fine, I’ll work on it…maybe.
Other times, people think that I am stuck up. This one is just based off of looks alone (I am not being conceited, that’s what I have been told.). I have had a bunch of people tell me that they were relieved when we met because they were not looking forward to it. They thought I would be super snobby and way stuck up. Again, I have my moments (for sure) but I would like to think, that they are just moments, not who I actually am. Could I be less caddy? Probably. Will it happen any time soon? Probably not.
A lot of times, people think I am loaded (money-wise, not alcohol-wise).
1. IF I was, do you think I would be working? Heck no! I am not one of those people that “likes” to work or thinks that it is something to do during the day. TRUST me, if I could not work, I would be all over it.
2. I got a pair of diamond studs (off of E-bay, for a penny. Yes, a PENNY) and I wear them every day and every day I get compliments on them and how beautiful they are. They are a carat each and look totally real. If someone flat out asked me if they were fake, I would totally tell them, but if they don’t, I keep my mouth shut. One day, 2 coworkers of mine were talking and one said to me, “Nice fake earrings.” The other guy jumped in and said, “Oh no. Lauren would never wear fake earrings. It’s not her style.” All the while I was just sitting there, smiling.
3. I do see how people can think this one though, although they are completely wrong. We are definitely fortunate, no complaints there. But, loaded? Not so much. I get peels once a month-from a friend. I get my hair done every 8 weeks-from a friend. My mom cuts it. You get the idea.
So, to sum it up. I am not as innocent as you may think. Far from it, actually. I am not proper. I am not rich. I am not stuck-up (most of the time). I do have a horrible sailor mouth. I wear fake diamonds and pretend they are real. I am a smart-ass, but mean no harm. I can be caddy from time to time. I like to have pretty hair and clear skin. Any questions?
I am not sure if you have ever noticed John Legend’s, um, southern region. His pants are not ever particularly tight, but his package is always accentuated. It seems to be especially obvious in the Target commercial he was recently in. I have pointed it out to Kenny more than once and every time we see him on TV, I just start to laugh.
Back to my story…so I am laughing at Kenny.
What’s wrong with them?
Nothing, John Legend. Nothing at all.
They are going back. Quit staring. It makes my uncomfortable.
1. We found out it was a Sky Sox game, not a high school tournament
2. It was KID DAY
3. The game would not be canceled
4. Since Tuesday night, 5000 tickets had been sold
One of us happened to glance outside to the parking lot and, I swear to God, there was not an empty space. There were a million school buses parked and 1 trillion kids making their way to the stadium! Cook more hot dogs! Put on all the pretzels! Get everything stocked!
We worked 9-2, but I swear it felt like 5 minutes. We were busy the entire time. And not just busy, SWARMED by wads of kids all spending their parents money to get delicious treats. Cinde and I were pretty much awesome. I do have to say that the people at Sky Sox were less than prepared to handle this insane amount of children though. At one point the Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Mountain Dew, and Root Beer were all running clear. All we had was pink lemonade-not a best seller. We ran out of cooked hot dogs a few times, cotton candy, churros, and a few other things. Those poor kids waited in line at least 10 minutes for me to tell them we were all sold out. All I have to say is God bless the parents and teachers that attended the game with all those kids. It was INSANE.
Seriously though, it just made me want to wait even more on having some children of my own.
Why am I telling you all of this?
Kenny: So, I want to get a tattoo.
Me: Right on. So, I can schedule the other one I want to get then?
Kenny: Oh, no. YOU can’t get anymore.
This place was like my hell. Every sentence, conversation, and word spoken in that place had to do with poop, colons, buttholes, etc.....It was all I could do to sit there and act like this was completely fine for me. Around every curtain you heard people endlessly farting. I guess they puff air into your colon and so it has to come back out afterwards. It was a symphony of ass trumpets.
When they were explaining the procedure to my mom, they said that they take the scope and go through FIVE feet of her business, then, get this, they take a picture when they get to the other side. To show that they made it. What? So, they are basically comparing a colonoscopy to climbing Pikes Peak? Make sure you get a picture when you get to the top! You want proof you made it, right?
Then all I could think of is that these people work here, every single day. This is their job. This doctor probes peoples butts for a living. I guess maybe I should stop complaining about mine. Things can always be worse.