Tuesday, January 26, 2010


Growing up I was more than over-the-top about a few things. Mainly: Jose Canseco (the Oakland A's in general, really), Beverly Cleary books (I was convinced that I was Ramona Quimby), oldies music, basketball, my teddy bear, Teddy and Kristi Yamaguchi.

Admittedly, Kristi Yamaguchi seems like an odd fit in a clear list of tomboy favorites. I don't know why I loved her so much, we have very little to nothing in common and I know zero about figure skating. Maybe I loved her because I knew early on that Tonya Harding was trashy and I always prefer classy over trashy (another odd premise coming from a tomboy in rural Arkansas).


This morning Kristi Yamaguchi was on the Today Show and I was swept back to 1992 and the Olympics and one of the greatest presents, to date, that I've ever received: a pair of white, patent leather roller skates with hot pink wheels. I got them at Christmas, just before the 1992 Olympics. I was in heaven wearing them around my kitchen screaming, "I'm Kristi Yamaguchi!"

While watching Kristi on the television this morning I wondered if I had ever properly thanked my parents for those skates. It's hard to say thanks when you're only eight and slightly obsessed with yourself and making videos of yourself dancing to "Too Legit to Quit."

So, that's what I want to say this morning:

Dearest Reg and LJ,

What a great gift you gave me way back in 1991! I loved those skates more than just about anything and I remember trying to cram my foot into them long after I had outgrown them. I forgave you a long time ago for not entering me into any skating competitions, if you were wondering...But, seriously...thanks for the skates and the tolerance of my completely annoying charade of constantly pretending to be someone else whether it was Kristi, Jose Canseco, Michael Jackson, MC Hammer or a dinosaur. I'm sure you spent many nights wondering if I'd turn out somewhat normal and I hope you're resting assuredly that the "somewhat" part is somewhat true. I always had the dumbest dreams and ambitions for my life and you always encouraged me to go after them-- even the one where I wanted to be a professional tennis player and country music singer on the side. Thanks for that. Who knew that those skates would lead me to lead to such a fulfilling life? Well, I'm sure you both did. Duh. Best parents ever.

little l

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

dear facebook.

Dear Facebook,

For many years now you have been like a friend to me: an almost constant source of entertainment, a wealth of information. Not to mention the fact that no one loves to shamelessly promote themselves more than I and you provide an avenue in which to do that. Really and truly, the day you decided your users could upload photos onto your site was life-changing for me. Can't sleep at night? Check out some friend of a friend's mother's photos from high school on FB. Feeling lousy about your weekend? Check out a random classmate from elementary school's Christmas decor photos: instant cheering up.

My point is this: FB, you've been good to me. But, I'm kind of fed up with you. You're losing credibility. I've felt like this for a while now. I hate that people think they know what is happening in my life by looking at my Facebook. Maybe they know I went to a Christmas party, but do they know what I had for dinner last night? No.

And the day you, Facebook, started "suggesting" people I should befriend or "connect" with was the day I threw my arms up in surrender. Where does it end, Facebook? Where does it end? I mean, do your homework. You're suggesting that I "reconnect" with people I never connected with in the first place. Where do you get off "suggesting" that I share the news with a girl I sat next to in 8th grade science class and haven't seen since a football game in 11th grade? That's not your place, Facebook. You are not here to "suggest" anything to me.

I hope that you won't find this letter offensive or cruel. If we're good enough friends for you to coerce me into writing something on the girl's wall who one time asked me for notes sophomore year in college then we're good enough friends to share our feelings or "suggestions."

I hope you understand.

I wish I knew how to quit you,

A few years ago one of my very closest friends in the world died and while I would love to "catch up" with her, I don't think sending her a message over FB is the way to do it. It's a nice gesture though.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

re-evaluate your life.

Yesterday I was forced to travel to the edge of the Earth (Garland, Texas) to order a bridesmaid dress. Side note: I think a new goal of mine will be to actually travel to each and every major suburb of Dallas in 2010 and write my thoughts on each. I have a feeling most of thoughts will resemble each other and won't be all that positive, but if it's what I have to do, it's what I have to do.

Ordering this dress proved to be a little more than difficult: the first place I went wouldn't exactly fall into the "speaks English fluently" category and involved a phone call to a company from the store's owner that was less than pleasant. Basically, it was super awk.

The next place I ventured to was just past the back forty. This store was hoppin' and boppin' for a Monday. I'm guessing MLK Day brings people out of the woodwork for bridal apparel. That's just a guess though. Anyway. The visit started out nice enough until Shay (although her name on the print out she gave me read: Shequella) started speaking. First, she asked if I was pregnant. I'm sorry, but why would you ask me that? Did I do anything to lead you to believe that I was, in fact, with child? Isn't there a rule somewhere about never asking that question to someone no matter how curious? I told her politely that, "If I'm pregnant, the Virgin Mary just lost some of her clout." She seemed confused and then, apparently, she tried to recover by asking, "Is that baby out there yours?" (Lauren and baby hoodrat, Harper were accompanying me on this trip to Hell). Why would that baby be mine? Was I ever holding the baby? Do I have the ability to dress a child that cute? Didn't you just get your foot out of your mouth? Why would you want it back in there? I told her that the baby was not mine and she finally quieted down a bit. Then, all hell broke loose when she informed that I should order a size 16 dress. I'm sorry, 16? 16, like the number after 15? Even at the most I've ever weighed I didn't need a size 16, how about I try this smaller size just for fun? Ok, great. Well, the smaller size fit just swell and she mumbled something about it being "perfect."

Shay, honey, darling, deary, if you're reading this: please re-evaluate your life and the words that come out of your mouth. But, if I ever get pregnant (immaculate conception or otherwise) you'll be the first to know!

Monday, January 11, 2010

a letter from 1995.

When I found all the poetry from 7th grade lc, I also found a letter from 7th grade lc to 7th grace lc.
It was written three days into the new school year. Real winner.

Dear Lauren,
School started two days ago. I like it. I couldn't get my locker open, but I'm getting better. My locker is 88. I've got the combination down cold, but I can't tell you.

Band is fun. When we start to play our horns I'll have more fun. The 1st day was boring, took Mrs. Reynolds 30 minutes to call roll.

I like all my teachers. They're nice. Maybe I'll talk to you some other time.

Your pal,
Lauren Cowling

Oh, to tell her the things I know now that I didn't know then...

I'd start with telling her that going around telling people you know something, but can't tell them is stupid. Then, I'd tell her to drop out of band ASAP. At least quicker than 9th grade (which is when I did drop it). I'd also tell her that despite the niceness of her teachers and the fact that most of them also taught her Sunday school class, they're still going to call her parents all the freakin' time for being a smart ass. Grow up.

Well, maybe I'll talk to you some other time.

Monday, January 4, 2010

resolution (s).

I'm not much for new year's resolutions. I'm of the mind that if you're doing something shitty in July and you need to stop doing it, you should start in July, not wait until the next year. If you think you aren't eating properly or working out enough, you shouldn't wait until after the holidays to get into shape. I can't think of a worse time to exercise than the most joyous time of the year. I usually only exercise when I seriously can't think of a single other thing to do. Like, not one other thing. Like, I clean my toilet more than I exercise.

I can barely think of two resolutions I've made over my lifetime that stuck. Clearly, I'm disciplined. One of the resolutions I made in college was with a friend of mine. We decided that we were going to resolve to celebrate the changing of every month, not just every year. We forgot before February rolled around. Oopsies.

I'm a sucker for bullshit, so here's my list for 2010:

1. Talk about working out and exercising more. Maybe all the talk will build up to actually doing it. Make a playlist for my iPod titled, "Working on my Fitness," so when people see that they'll think I work out a lot. Or, I could eat less and cut down my alcohol-related caloric intake and lose weight and still let people believe I'm working out.

2. Work on my cussing around babies.

3. Buy new black work flats. My current ones look like I stole them from a homeless, yet business-casual vagabond.

4. Go visit my brosef and S-I-L at their home in little, tiny Harrison, Arkansas for a whole weekend just because.

5. Throw something off a bridge out of anger.

6. Listen to less rap music and more talk radio.

We'll see how these go, but I mean, let's be honest-- if I can accomplish these, 2010 is looking to be a bangin' year.

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