Ohhh Hill.

I must be sick. For the past few months, I've been feeling extremely out of it. Dazed and confused. Lightheaded. Perhaps in need of a doctor's visit. I have my speculations. I only hope...eetz naught uh tumuuuur.
I move soon to the historically loco Oregon Hill on July 1st. Whilst in Richmond I had always desired to live there, mainly for the experience, and now I'm going to do just that. Aside from living pretty much down the street from one of my ex's girlfriends, I couldn't be happier. Audrey and Chris will accompany me for a year in a 3 bedroom, 2nd floor apartment. We will be proud renters of central air, a dishwasher, washer and a dryer. Ammenities Lauren hasn't had in years. A balcony on the front of the house is shaded by a big tree and I expect to spend many a lazy afternoons on it. Come join. Bring champagne.
I never updated after Memphis, but I can tell you this much, it was fun. Lots of fun. Then I went to the beach with Taryn and that was lots of fun too. I met good people. If you're a competent facebook user, no doubt you've seen the pictures. A flash before my eyes, a quick blink, a cat nap if you will, and boom, things've changed. I think fate is a funny thing to base your life around, hell, I don't even believe in it, but as someone recently said, crossing paths with certain people just seems...inevitable. One chapter ends, the next begins. Sometimes unexpectedly sooner than later. Sometimes a collision of chapters occurs. Sometimes the title of the new chapter makes you wiggle in your seat in anticipation of reading it. Whatever the name of this summer's chapter may be, let it be known that I am wiggling in my seat.

Pussy Troubles

I want to donkeypunch one of my cats. He is such a little shit all. the. time. When he's not sleeping and being a completely worthless ball of fuzz, he's knocking things over and constantly playing in the litter box. He'll go into it and paw around for 5 minutes and just play with the little pieces of litter. Great. I raised a child whose favorite past time is rummaging around in his own feces. Way to go, Lauren! And THEN, when he gets out of the litter box, he's got all these little pieces of litter in between his toes and enjoys jumping around my apartment and sprinkling them everywhere. I mean everywhere! He makes a running superman jump out of the litter box and all you hear is bits of clay flying all over my constantly-swept hardwood floor.
He bites my toes when I'm sleeping , follows infront of me in a zig-zag pattern so that I trip over him and pees on my dirty clothes when he feels like it. My other cat (Boogeyman, the one and only) is an absolute angel. But this one, by god, he's truly a re-re. What a worthless dingleberry.

Awkward moments: Or is it spelled "akward?" I'm too lazy to look it up.

-When you're walking a dog and someone is walking right by you when the dog decides to take a huge dump. You're just standing there trying not to notice but everyone knows your dog is pooing and it stinks.
-When you are having a good day and you are getting out of your car all the while singing under your breath a favorite tune and you look up to see somebody staring at you.
-When you're at CVS buying some tampons for when Aunt Flo visits and they have to announce over the PA that they need a price check. And yeah the people in line behind you are giggling.
-When you're changing the kitty litter and you haul a big trash bag full of disgusting excriment down to the shared garbage bins and somebody walks by your alley, noticing not only that it smells like shit but that you are a busted mess, wearing nothing but a see through tank top and shorts, minus a bra, flip flops, and of course still wearing the remainder of last night's makeup as it leaks from your crusty eyes.
-When you're leaving your apartment and as you exit the door, you say something stupidly cute to your cats in a high pitched baby voice only to turn around and realize your neighbor is walking by your door and thinks you are NUTSO.
I love those types of moments. Maybe I'm just crazy.


Feel free to comment and tell me YOUR a(w)kward moments!

Breathe deep

I got my Sperry's today. They are red with little anchors all over them. I'm turning into a regular prep. I also have a madras dress that makes me look like I belong at Foxfield. Shaddap.

Taryn got most of her color done today on her ribs...and it looks ah-may-zing. Fred's really great. I just love everyone at Salvation. Jimmy is stoked to do some more work on my leg! Miyazaki, I love you. I highly recommend Salvation to anyone. Of course anyone who reads this already knows that because they go there too.

I'm turning 24 tomorrow. I'm in this weird pseudo-fantasy like dream state where I'm in between feeling blissful and depressed. I'm well beyond adolesence yet I consider my inner workings and feelings as being child-like and naive. I'm still so young. I'm still so free. I'm still so silly and unsure of everything.


Thursday we leave for Memphis in May. My camera's full purpose while down there is to show proof that I was even in Memphis, because after we set foot on Beale St, I won't remember much. Memphis is my hometown and I can't wait to see my dad and be back in the south. My heart belongs there. I don't feel like writing much... this is a pre-phenominal weekend post. Post-party posting will be published soon...

.

It's beautiful out. If you need me, I'll be at the river.

My hands become dry

like water, you run through my hands
i can't grasp your every drop
my fingers don't stay tight enough
and i watch you slip away.

you cling to the edges of my fingers
idle yourself on the surface
but gravity takes ahold
and i watch you slip away.

my hands catch my tear drops
clasped so tightly, it starts to fill up
but still it seeps
and now from both ends
i watch us slip away.

Ok Karma, I've done my part.

The 10k started out rainy and miserable. I was wearing my superannuated Memphis State sweatshirt (they are now called University of Memphis, therefore this sweatshirt holds close to my heart) and it smelled like a wet dog. I was hungover. Damn Irish Car bomb.
It was a great experience. So many supportive Richmonders selflessly cheered us by the thousands with abiding smiles on their soaking wet faces. You felt a sense of community and pride for a good cause. I get so much joy out of doing races for cancer, breast cancer, aids, etc. I think next year I'm going to run it.
When I got home today, there was a sketchy black bag ontop of my car. It was getting rained on and I felt sorry for it. It reminded me of that Ikea commercial with the lamp sitting outside in the rain. It crossed my mind that perhaps I was being set up (I have mean weirdo neighbors) but I decided to look through it, being the snoopy gal that I am. There were 2 lovely glass bowls (you know, bowls), a scale, a pair of jeans, and a phone. I didn't know what to do, so I set it on the ground in hopes it would grow legs and return itself to its rightful owner. It was just too sketchy. After a couple hours in my house, I went outside to my car and the bag was still right where I had left it, unscathed and desolate. I took the bag into my car and drove to Nathan's parents house to have dinner, all the while pondering what I should do with it. Part of me wanted to keep some of the goodies inside, but most of me wanted to give it back to whomever was missing it. After dinner I checked the phone inside of the bag and someone had been desperately trying to leave text messages and voicemails. When I got home I called some number and a snobby girl answered. She probably didn't expect the bag to fall into the hands of a nice person. Her friend came by my house shortly afterwards to get reclaim it. This girl had to have been 18 or 19, a zitty little freshman most likely, with glazed red eyes and a pubescent skater punk by her side for refuge. Whoever's bag it was was obviously a pot dealer. The bottom of the bag was covered with a thick layer of little pretty green and red flakes. The old man in me wanted to tell the girl to be more fucking careful with such a valuable bag, but I didn't. Part of me wanted to slip a piece of paper with my number on it into the bag so that I could be rewarded, heh, but I didn't. I simply gave it back. And it felt great. Those kids are lucky it didn't fall into the hands of a perilous ganster or a Richmond bum who would've sold all of the contents for a bottle of cheap whiskey. I guess it doesn't matter what's in the bag, be it legal or not. What matters is doing the right thing. Foregoing my temptations to benefit myself with what was inside, it's worth it to be smiling right now, knowing the puerile teens of Richmond are taking a celebratory pipe to the face because of me.

Time to bust out the dresses?

AGH! Hurry up and get warm already! Someone is playing a foul trick on dear Mother Earth, poor gal. Here it is, April 1st and it's not even close to being shorts-deserving weather. Spring, I insist you get here, and get here fast...I need a tan and a reason to dress risque.

So Nathan (Taryn's boyfriend) fell off his bike today and broke his arm. He is in surgery right now because apparently it got pretty mangled. UPDATE! Just got off the phone with Taryn and he broke both his big bones in his forearm and completely ripped apart his wrist joint and the little bones in it. He is getting metal plates and screws. (poor Nathan!!)
I visited him at the hospital and I can't begin to describe the akwardly bulging mess that was his right arm.
His parents are super cute and his dad is especially super cute because he was wearing a suit and a pink bowtie when I first met him in the waiting room. I SO hope my husband dresses like that when he's older. I know Nathan will be okay because he is badass.

I almost made a drastic boo boo the other day. I am currently growing my hair out from last summer's butchering (although it turned out very cute but required monthly maintenance that I wasn't willing to take on) so my hair looks like shit right now. The other day I got this crazy idea (actually I've wanted to do this for a while but it lingers in the back of my head as a possibility) that I should chop all my hair off like a boy and bleach it blonde. First of all, it has recently come to my attention that Louie's ex-girlfriend has that EXACT smokin' Agy Deyn cut and obviously I can't do it now, but I reeeeally wanted to do something bold and goofy because hey, I think we can all agree that sometimes we get bored when we look into that mirror. I've spent literally hours looking at pictures online of this haircut and the other day I was I-------I close to walking out of the door and making an appointment with some flashy Richmond salon. Welp, by the time I got up the nerve it was 5pm on a Saturday and I couldn't find anywhere that was still open (aside from the neighborhood Hair Cuttery and ...fuck that.) So, I'm still at square one and I'm still growing my hair out. The thing is, I have lovely hair, it's healthy and got just enough wave to it but not too much, and the natural red highlights that shimmer in the sun are sparkly but I have no patience for hair-growing and wish it was longer than it is. I might eventually do this.

I am stoked about the Hills...I feel so far that this is going to be a juice-ay season.
C'mon Spring, gimme some.