benefit to living in the sticks #343

not having to worry if some indie kid is going to catch me powerwalking in dumpy mom clothes.
ooo. life is sweet.

4 minute blog

i have exactly four minutes before i have to head out on my next assignment so i will make it concise.
went to bernie's last night for the first time in year. saw the infamous zach allen starkey. kinda fun. mostly just uncomfortable and boring.
things i'm looking forward to right now:
-receiving in the mail all of the odd old fashioned vanity items i have recently purchased. (silver hair brush, perfume atomizer, etc)
-getting the two 3 pound tubs of cookie dough that we ordered from the neighbor boy.
going to chicago tomorrow to see jimmy's sister.
-running another race with evie.
things i am not looking forward to:
-getting a bad tooth taken care of
-kickboxing tonight
-winter
thank you and have a beautiful afternoon.
-lorn

rite of passage

went to my first real bachelorette party this past weekend. wow. if the kinds of shoes in this picture are any indication, these bitches were scary. i have never seen so many girls in one place wearing tiny little dresses. prom is different. people wear long skirts, they look kind of classy even if they're typically hoes. these girls used this outing as an excuse to wear what my mother refers to as "the double jeopardy" outfit. low cut chest, high skirt. mom says you can wear one or the other, never both.
we took shots. ate penis cake. rode in a hummer limo and went to sugar bar.
as we were waiting for our vip hostess to escort us to our special floor i looked down the line at the girls. i thought, with the exception of me, it looked like we were waiting in line to pose for the side of the bus picture for girls gone wild. terrifying.
let me tell you. what a strange place. i have found at the ripe old age of 26, that there is no magic or mystery left at a dance club for me. it doesn't matter how dark or how loud the music is. i know what the place looks like at noon. i know what the people look like at noon. yucky.
i will not be fooled by creepy sweaty dudes with pin striped pants and mustaches. i don't care how many muscles you have. i basically played body guard to a cast of 15 drunk women for the two hours i was there. a girl from our party had so much of the free grey goose, she fell off the stage directly onto her knees. shit.
i had a pretty good time. but mostly i felt old.
it seems that sugar bar is a place where people go when they're about to get married. there were at least 4 other bachelorette parties there.
and the dudes? all of societies rejects. poor women. go out looking to have a last hurrah and they get: a burn victim, a dude in a wheelchair and four hispanic dudes about a foot shorter than them. all wearing their father's old spice. there. did i offend everyone? good.
they offended me.

Super slipping fall-apart erosion.

all the roots exposed.

An escalator waiting to start

This is a mess.

i can't wait to pack all this dirt back together.

In a night dream. In a total freak out. sweaty.

Separated. a death apart.

I couldn’t stand it.

I want the pony and the ending.

I want the sunset.

I want the wedding.

And you’re scared, and you’re tired, and you’re up all night.

Is it fair, is it smart, is it loathsome, is it right?



I nuzzle into your hoody pocket and see the honey colored light.

Your shirt is so yellow, so bright.

I want to run like a rabbit from a wolf.

How many times do I have to discuss the sum of my deeds?

It's my virginal, chaste face.

It's a flower amongst weeds.



If I had broken the ice with the truth

I wouldn’t be fishing for so much help.

Help.

It's got to be down there somewhere.

Alaska doesn't get snow as pure as this truth.

i love you.

cleo. not the brightest cat.

moar funny pictures

project runintoyourcar

friday night the lindsay had a show at the new summit. i'm personally not too excited about the place. i liked it better when it was a gay bar. complete with sassy boys in tight white t-shirts, karaoke and drag queens. i believe i let the band know about this sentiment over a nice tall glass of vodka, standing in the front with jess.
my night previous to the stiff drink? not so nice.
J-hole and myself had resolved to be nicer to one another and reminded ourselves by writing a notes on our palms. his? "more sensitive" mine? "less sensitive" a gentle reminder to not give up on our relationship after 4 or 5 cocktails.
not so much success.
we left tom's house before the show. i insisted on driving because j-hole was already in good form.
and i did it, i backed into a psedofamous person's car.
you know the girl from proj run? the one everyone was rooting for? that one.
j-hole was not so happy about his.
he called me names and i went up to the house.
lucky for me, neither proj run or her pb&j lookin' boyfriend seemed remotely sober.
i told her what happened and gave her my information.
she basically said nothing. she said "you have pretty read hair"
and "is it fucked?" i told her it was a minor dent in the quarter panel. she seemed unconcerned.
the house looked like a traditional cutesie clintonville home. inside? it looked like a crazy 80's bachelor coke house with black leather couches, zebra rugs, and a porcelain cheetah holding up a glass coffee table.
she hasn't called me yet. i guess i can thank bravo for paying her enough to not bother me. halleluiah.
got pissed at jimmy. had him drop me off at kate's house. then after stewing for ten minutes. i literally ran to summit. it was pouring and i had no car. i figured, why walk it? so i showed up sweaty, grumpy and rained on. it makes you drink faster.
with the exception of talking to jess, it was a bust. fuck that place.
everything is back to normal with me and jimbo, as usual. weekdays we are the cleavers. weekends we are bobby and whitney. we'll find a balance.
he really is the light of my life. the problem, as he and i outlined last night in the newly decorated guest room is that he can be a real prick and i can be a real pussy.

and here i thought whenever tom bent over, he was punching stuff into his trusty Texas Instruments calculator.

Dear Journal,
as a member of this generation, i am not embarrassed to say that this is my third blog. except back in my day, we didn't call 'em "blogs" we called 'em journals. because that's what they are. (i'm sure you know by now how loathsome i find that word.)
i'd like for this journal to solely be about what it's like to live in marysville, though i fear it might be a short story.
so let's keep it broad.

yesterday i interpreted for the governor of ohio. i'm sure all of my loved ones have had quite enough of me tooting my own horn, but i'm pretty pumped. this is the kind of thing i would have expceted to wait several years to do. me? i've been interpreting professionally for about two months. this doesn't make me the most qualified person for the job, but certainly the most enthusiastic. woot.

i sent out a desperate call via faceplace to see if anyone i know wants to run with me.
those who responded:
evie, who has skipped town for athens.
brigit, who has skipped town for chile.
out of some three hundredish friends. i see now who is dedicated. i also see that these who are dedicated are also what my mother calls "geographically undesirable". so crapface. jimmy will come to races, but he will be bored.

other news
at this new job i have somehow maitained my ability to be completely aloof. normally i jump into people's faces with "hi i'm lauren, i really like camping and nail polish. i once had a really bad boyfriend who purposefully wrecked my car and stole my dog. this one time..."
not this time. this time i watch. like a lion.
actually more like a big oafish creature in a hot linen dress.
it has been the first day of school for 64 days. this is becoming exhausting.
Love and Kisses,
Lorn