Stuff My Boyfriend Says While Watching Jane Austen Movies

Dear six readers,

My boyfriend likes to kill aliens/bad guys/whoever on his video games. He watches movies through my Netflix account and with such gems as Planet 51 and Ninja's Creed and Halo Legends now popping up in my Watch Instantly feed, he's really messing up Netflix's opinion of me and my taste in movies. Clearly, we agree to disagree on many things, and while I have faith in the power of Ms. Austen and her literary masterpieces to transcend gender, space, and time, I figured this would be one of those things.

When I was lying despondently in bed a few weeks ago, drained from a week of marathon thesis writing and starving (why do I lose the ability to buy normal people food when deadlines are coming up...), boyfriend magically appeared with a jr. bacon cheeseburger and a back rub. (That's right...I asked for a cheeseburger and he brought me one with bacon on it. That's like asking for a man and getting an Astronaut Mike Dexter!)

It's true--both he and jr. bacon cheeseburgers are delicious

As if that wasn't sexy enough, he even agreed to watch Sense and Sensibility with me until I fell asleep. Hoping against hope that he'd give it a fair chance and not just stubbornly decide to hate it and stew quietly until he could sneak out, I told him it was okay if it wasn't his thing and if he wanted, we could watch it in installments.

Well, six gentle readers, ten minutes into the movie, and he was captivated. Enraptured. Falling in love with Emma Thompson before my very tired eyes. I didn't allow myself to fall asleep because I was having such fun watching him watch the movie. Within the first five minutes, he soundly pronounced Fanny Dashwood a bitch, and referred to her as such every time she came on screen. (PS the video I linked to there is just about the most ridiculous thing in the world...) He finally came to understand why Emma Thompson is on my "If I Swung That Way" list, and he rejoiced when Edward announced he was not married to "that other bitch", Lucy Steele.

Not boyfriend...though he was almost this moved

Since Sense and Sensibility was such a hit, I thought it might be time to try Pride and Prejudice...you know, the five hour work of genius with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle. As we started it, he warned me he probably wouldn't like it as much as he did S and S...and then he met Mr. Bennet and it was over. He was hooked again.

Boyfriend+Mr. Bennet=Guy Luv

He yelled at the characters. He predicted the ending. He shushed me when I talked and he couldn't hear the dialogue. He invited me over at all hours to watch it some more (we finished it in about three installments). He pined after Jennifer Ehle and decided to watch more Colin Firth movies.

About halfway through, I realized I needed to write down some of the things he was saying. I had texted some of his responses to my sisters, and they were just too good to not record. I hereby present to you a partial list of Stuff My Boyfriend Says While Watching Jane Austen Movies:

To Caroline Bingley: Shut your face, she's so much prettier than your ass!

About Mr. Wickham: Yeah, he's totally lying. Dude, you just told the whole story and then said you'd never tell it! Idiot.

About Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy: I want Colin Firth to end up with her. I think he likes her even though he doesn't want to admit it, and she kind of likes him, too. She calls him on his bull-shit and he likes it. I like that.

About Mary, playing at the ball: She's precious...

To Mrs. Bennet, loudly at ball: (facepalm) She needs to SHUT UP.

About Mr. Collins' proposal: "I'm the best you'll ever do." Is that what you got from that? Self-righteous little bastard.

Rewinding many times to look at Collins' awkward face at end of scene: WHAT WAS THAT?! It kinda reminded of Lord Voldemort! No no, Barty Crouch with his tongue!

Mr. Bennet, siding with Lizzie after Collins' proposal: I love him!! (fist pump)

Mr. Collins: Way to go Mr. Collins, you're a pimp. (eyeroll) Not really.

About Jennifer Ehle: When was this movie made? (me: '94 or '95? Why?) She's goooorgeous. The more I watch, the more I fall in love with her (said quite shyly).

Frustrated about Mr. Wickham: Now she's in love with him. Ugh. It's okay, she'll end up with Darcy...Wait...If she doesn't end up with Mr. Darcy, I'm going to shit all over your car!!!!! (ten points to whichever family member gets that reference)

About his hero Mr. Bennet: Oh I love him! I just...I can't even put it into words!!

I don't remember the exact context: Nice house, crappy door

About Elizabeth: I like how she just walks around everywhere...she's got strong legs.

To Elizabeth: Go to London! You'll see Mr. Darcy! (hip thrust)

About Mr. Wickham: I can't stop staring at his penis flap....DON'T WRITE THAT!

Later: Just cause I can't stop staring at another's man crotch, you don't have to tell the whole world about it. (after I just laughed but didn't start typing) OH and THAT doesn't get written down....I thought that was the funnier one...I'm done with you!

About, who else, Mr. Bennet: I honestly wish I could be like him.

Mr. Collins' tour of his house: Whoa whoa wait, the most prominent feature of your house is the angle of your staircase??!! "Oh isn't this the most elegant staircase you've ever seen? Oh, I agree with the depth very kindly." Seriously, what's wrong with him?? I want to know. If they don't explain by the end of the movie, we all know what's going to happen to somebody's car...homeboy is killing me. (PS I love that line so much..."I agree with the depth very kindly..." What does that mean, boyfriend??)

About Lady Catherine's entrance: It's Lady Rosenbottom! Who cares...

Collins reassuring Lizzie about her dress on their visit to Rosings: ...that's like giving you a backhanded compliment while backhanding you twice in the face!! Idiot...

Lady Catherine: self-righteous bitch...

To Mr. Darcy, visiting awkwardly then leaving abruptly: Why can't you just talk to her, you know you want to! I feel like I'm giving Nick Long advice through the TV. (Sorry, Nick)

About Mr. Darcy: His penis flap isn't as noticeable as the other guy's! Eh, or maybe it just looks better.

Again, Mr. Darcy's awkward visit: No! No, dumbass, keep going!! It was an awkward start, but at least you started!

Pontificating: If I had lived back then, I would have been a pimp. I would have gotten all the ladies, but I wouldn't have gotten married. Cause they would have found out that I'm a dumbass. Am I giving you some good material there?

Mr. Collins: I don't know why he doesn't just marry Lady Catherine...he's already trying to get into her pants as it is.

To Mr. Darcy, who has come to propose but can't get any words out: Come on....you can get over your stutter...

Darcy starts strong and confesses his love...then blows it: You are a pimp! (fistpump)...Ah you dick, why would you say that!?

After Darcy leaves: That was only slightly better than Mr. Collins's proposal...

To Elizabeth's scalding refusal: Well done.

We can learn many things from this.

#1: Jane Austen has all the knowledge when it comes to characters. Boyfriend had about half the characters of P and P labeled as different friends/acquaintances. Who hasn't met at a Mary or a Mr. Collins or a Lydia before?

#2: My boyfriend cusses while playing video games and apparently watching Jane Austen movies. See, the two aren't so incompatible after all!

#3: Colin Firth is a god, and everyone knows it.

True fact: Google "Colin Firth is a god" and this is the first image. Told you.

Crafty Crafty ME! (Or: Lauren blogging about things you don't want to read about)

Guys, guess what. This is my second post THIS WEEK. I am boss of internetting. Plus, I'm going to talk about CRAFTS!!!! I am unstoppable in my Mormon girl blogging skills.

Here's the story:

A few months ago I bought an item. Since my brother makes up one-fifth of my regular readership, I'll refrain from going into details about this item (though I was going to write a post about my friends "Pammie" "Tammie" and "Cammie" and my introduction to them at different ages...) but I will say that it's awesome. Not for the faint of heart, but awesome (and you're welcome, Julie, for changing my phrasing there). There's just one thing I HATE about this item--it came with the most embarrassing little bag to carry it around in.

Really? I didn't even ever carry a purse regularly until I was 23, and they want me to haul this little sparkly purple monstrosity around with me wherever I go? Yes, my then nine year old cousin might have called me a diva, but...really? Need my personal hygiene item proclaim that to the world? My soul is dying. There needed to be a better way.

So, in the middle of a recent Buffy/Angel binge, I sat down with some newfangled supplies I had just bought at WalMart at midnight and tried to remember anything from my eighth grade sewing class that didn't have to do with that one time that little hussy Linda grabbed me by my bangs and slapped me. (Lesson learned--bangs are bad.) Something must have stuck, because I think it turned out amazing.

So much better. Plus, Cammie's happy to have a new home away from home.

Too much?

In Which I Prove I Am Not A Procrastinator

Y'all, I'm not very good at this whole time thing. Surprise. Oh this paper was due yesterday/last year? My bad. Church doesn't start at 1:15? Weird! Being late to work every single day isn't a good idea? Why didn't someone say something!

BUT. I'm about to prove all you naysayers wrong, for yesterday while waiting for World of Color at DCA to start I planned for three deadlines--seven weeks from now, five months from now, and a year from now. That's right, I've started planning for something that is over a year from now! I officially win the internet! Right? It gets even better--these plans are AWEsome.

1-August 24: release of Mockingjay. We have yet to find a bookstore near us that's doing a midnight release party (let's start a petition! a revolt! a sit in!) so we're going to dress up, get there first thing when they open, and then have Hannah's read-a-thon themed birthday party. I was going to find a tunic of some kind and wear that with my brown leggings and awesome brown boots, but then I found this post and really like the pants/shirt/jacket look. But I'm keeping my boots. I lurve them.2-November 19: Harry Potter Seven part 1!! There aren't very many things better than dressing up for Harry Potter events. (Point of fact, I just realized this is my second Harry Potter post in a row...and I don't even care. I post so seldom, be grateful for what you get!) Last year's excursion to see Half-Blood Prince was probably the third greatest night of last summer (don't get me started on nights one and two...STEAMROLLER!) Here's photographic evidence:

Amazing, right? How could we possibly top this? We have Bellatrix, Voldemort, Pansy Parkinson, a random Gryffindor, Tonks, Rita Skeeter, Moaning Myrtle, Luna, and Prof. Trelawney! Fear not, dear readers, you won't be let down. Right now the plan is to dress up as members of Bill/Fleur's wedding party and various guests. Dress robes! Wedding dresses! Secret signs! Maybe even a lynx! I've already called that I get to be Fleur (no battle) so the hunt is on for a tall hot man who won't mind us drawing scars on his face.

3-July 15 2010: Harry Potter Seven part 2! The theme of this release party is going to be Epic Final Battles. Hannah and I are definitely doing Mrs. Weasley vs. Bellatrix, but we can't decide who should be who. Vote in the comments! Also, we have a killer idea for Neville vs. Nagini. Let's just say we're going to be visiting a lot of carnival games to try to win a wrap-around plush snake...

Seriously, guys, I've impressed myself here. We made all these plans LAST NIGHT and I blogged about them TODAY. It's like I'm growing up before your very eyes.

I think this means I'm doing something right. Or wrong. I get the two confused.

So I was texting the lovely Liz earlier today when I gleefully realized that within the month that I've had this phone, I'd already texted the word Voldemort at least once so it's saved in my predictive text.

True story, last night I had my second Harry Potter dream in six months. As in, I have now twice dreamed that I was Harry Potter. Last night the aforementioned Liz was my loyal sidekick. When I realized that I was indeed Harry Potter, I immediately started looking for the golden snitch that would have the resurrection stone in it. Liz handed it to me, saying something like, "Oh yeah, this is the part of the story when we find this, huh?" I tried to put it away in my pocket so I could save it for the end...or the "close" (I'm killing myself with my nerdiness right now) but it was made of this really cheap plastic and the clasp kept opening. This was very frustrating because I wasn't ready to fight Voldemort yet and it was ruining the storyline. I think I might have tried to eat it. Huh. But then apparently it was time to fight, because I went in to some cheap restaurant building, and there you-know-who was. Except, well, he looked like a cross between Kenneth Branagh and my friend Andrew.

My paint skills are incredible, I know.

So everything was pretty fuzzy after that, mostly because I think I was really confused at having to kill a Voldemort who looked like that. Who could resist that face?

And in case you were wondering just how nerdy I get, here's a little gem I made after my first "Hi I'm Harry Potter" dream:

I'm especially proud of my scar. And my glasses.

Wow. Thanks for being my friends, guys. Sometimes it can get lonely on the special bus.

Two "Real" Men and a Sex Doll

I don't go a week without my Modern Family fix. I honestly have spent time pondering how I could somehow squeeze my way into Mitchell and Cam's relationship. I adore them. I even love Jay, who I always refer to as "the Al Bundy guy." But I have mixed feelings about Phil. He's an idiot. A lovable, well-intentioned idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. His wife Claire has to constantly fix the messes he gets himself and their kids in. He does have his redeeming qualities, but unfortunately his idiocy plays in to a widely-held media notion that men (specifically husbands) are clueless oafs who mean well, but really can't do anything right when it comes to their home and family. Case in point: In the pilot, Phil gets his son an air soft gun on the condition that if he shoots anyone with it (even accidentally), he'll shoot him as punishment. This made for some great comedy, but really? Later, Phil jumps the gun and punishes the kids by cancelling Christmas on Christmas Eve morning. Phil's blunders are always made up for by his wife's intervention or his own good-nature, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a husband and father who is stumbling around in the dark, a figure of pity, and a creator of cringe-worthy moments.

I would write this off as just one funny, idiotic, lovable character, but how many times have we seen this character repeated in films and television? Raymond? Tim Taylor? Even advertisers are playing on this theme. Sarah Haskins, brilliant lampooner of female-centered marketing, created this amazing montage celebrating the doofy husbands we love to pat on the head and say, "Oh isn't that cute...he sure tried!"

This leads me to the title of the post (isn't it great?) and one of my favorite movies. Lars and the Real Girl is about a lonely man in his twenties who falls in love with a life-size anatomically correct doll he bought online. And I love it. Lars has a mental illness and the respect and love his family and friends give him while he works through his issues is nothing but exemplary. Every time I watch I'm struck by a different character and her or his importance in helping Lars heal. Recently that character has been Gus, Lars' older brother. Gus and his wife live in the old family house while Lars (of his own choosing) lives in the garage. Even though it's been a few months since I saw it last, I still can't get over the brilliance of this particular scene. (sorry it's such a huge clip, the actual scene starts at 3:13 and ends at 6:24)

Lars comes to Gus and asks him how he knows if he's become a man yet. Gus usually doesn't have much to say, and has the hardest time of everyone accepting Lars' delusion. You can tell he's uncomfortable with the conversation, and he starts off shaky, but eventually he opens up. In his own straightforward terms, he talks to Lars like an equal. In the end he admits some of his own possible guilt in contributing to Lars' problems and apologizes, taking his own advice and acting "like a man." For the conversation alone the scene is great, but add to that the context. What is Gus doing as he explains to his little brother what it means to be a man--he's chopping vegetables for dinner. Then the buzzer sounds so they move down to the basement where he starts folding towels fresh from the dryer. "Macho", "manly", hesitant-to-talk-about-feelings Gus, amazingly, is capable of helping around the house and willingly does so. He also says the right words to help Lars start overcoming his demons and risk real relationships. Gus takes all of the good intentions embodied by characters like Phil and puts them into action.

I dislike the idea of there being "real men"--as in "real men don't eat quiche", the first suggestion google gave me--and "other kinds of men". But if I bought into that idea, I'd say something like, "Real men fold towels and empathize with people who are struggling."

I should put that on a t-shirt.

Adventures in Celibacy

I seldom watch videos that people post on their blogs, especially if they're over a minute long. That's mostly because I'm a snob and rarely trust other people's tastes. You pretty much need to guarantee that the video will either 1-make me snort-laugh; 2- make me feel much smarter than everyone else around me; 3- wow me into silence; or 4- cause me to swoon, drool, and basically lose my shit.

This video is the epitome of option 4. I have yet to see a better screen kiss. Were I feeling super nerdy (don't worry, I got most of my nerd out already by playing online Settlers of Catan), I'd elaborate ad nauseam as to why this is the best. kiss. ever and how my expectations are now so unrealistically high I'll never be satisfied and spend the rest of my life bitter and unfulfilled.

Oh crap. This is Mormon girl p*rn.

And I just can't stop.

Shirts and Skins

Best compliment I've ever received:

"You are beautiful and nice also non naked."

Basically, Spain finds me attractive and kind whether I have clothes on or not.

How to Instantly Improve Your Mental Health for Just $120!! (plus the cost of food)

(Prologue: I write this post as its subject is moping outside. He's being punished for threatening Dumbo...again. This might impair the treaclyness of my writing.)

My friends call me Debby. Debby Downer. Actually, they don't. But I do, and if I'm not my own friend, then we've got big trouble.

So this past year has not been my best year, mentally healthily speaking. Something about grad school sucking the living soul out of me, quarter life crises, a severe lack of money and budgeting skills--really, who knows what's caused it? I think it's healthiest to blame all the single men in southern California.

At this low time in my life, I did what any self-respecting single 25 year old Mormon girl does. I adopted a dog. Yes. I'm dirt poor, depressed, shoulder-deep in student loans, and have very little soul left. This is the perfect time to become solely responsible for the care and maintenance of a living creature.

I've always always always wanted a dog. When I was a kid, my siblings and I got to the Sunday paper before Mom and Dad one week and drew cat and dog faces on all the people in it. We were pet-starved children. I told myself that as soon as I was able, I'd adopt a dog. I can't tell you how many hours Dan and I have spent looking at adorable pictures of puppies online and FREAKING out. All sorts of freaking over the adorableness. We spent our two week vacation to Europe talking about how I was going to name my dog "Bay-bee Dawwg" (insert awful voice here) and giggled the whole way through at least five countries.

In June, I decided to move into a house with some friends. This is the perfect house for a dog. It has a huge yard, front and back, that's completely enclosed. The house itself is pretty big, so he'd have plenty of room inside as well. I knew it was time.

So I started my search for the perfect dog. He had to be just the right size, have short, soft fur, floppy ears, and a goofy face. I researched breeds, visited animal shelters, spent hours online on craig's list and shelter websites. I thought I found one in July. He was adorable--just the right size, beautiful color, seemed very sweet. But something just didn't feel right. Later, at the end of August, I was considering two others at another shelter. They were all right, but again, I just didn't feel like either of them would be the best fit. Was I being too picky? Yes. But I figured, if I'm going to have this dog for the rest of its life, I want to get it right.

The end of September came and I was starting to think I'd just have to pick one and be okay with it. I really wanted to adopt before I went home the first weekend in October so that my family (aka Mom and Dad) could meet him and be okay with him coming home for a longer stay over Christmas break. The Saturday before I was supposed to leave, I had a few dogs in mind that I had seen online, but they were spread out all over and I would probably only have time to make it to one shelter. Frustrated, I headed to the shelter where I already had an approved application, even though I wasn't especially thrilled about what I saw online. The dog I most wanted to see there had kennel cough and couldn't be shown. They showed me another dog who was okay, but probably a little yappy. Then they brought him in.

(Warning! Because of high cheese levels, the remainder of this post not recommended for the lactose intolerant!)

He had the cutest little wrinkled eyebrows, the fuzziest little floppy ears ever, and had the softest, most beautiful, brownish reddish coat. This guy was a total lover. He just came right over and plopped himself down next to me and let me pet him to both our hearts' content. The shelter assistant knew it. I knew it. This was my dog. I finished the rest of the paperwork, worked out a schedule for him to be neutered and then turned over to me, and left the shelter nervous and excited. I called my roommate and told her what was going on.

(You were warned! The cheese is off the charts here! Stay away!)

You know how when you say something, and all the sudden it hits you that what you're saying is the complete truth? Well, when I told my roommate that I had found my dog, it hit me like that. I'm not saying it's destiny, or divine intervention, or anything like that. I just knew that I really had found my dog.

So, nearly two months later, what's happened to our depressed, crisis-riddled, soulless, dimeless heroine? I'm still pulling myself out of this depression, still questioning the direction my life is headed, still getting the soul sucked out of me, and still in horrendous debt. But I'll be okay. I wouldn't credit all of that to my dog, but there's no denying it. Life is just better when this little guy settles in to keep my feet warm at night.


(Epilogue: What do you know? Treaclyness unimpaired by subject's naughtiness! Subject has done his penance and is now licking peanut butter off my fingers. I submit there's nothing better than a keyboard covered in peanut butter and dog drool. Wait. What am I saying? That's sick.)

Conversation With My Sister

Sister: You won't even give conservative guys the time of day!

Me: Not true! If I met an open-minded, intelligent, thoughtful conservative guy, I'd definitely give him a fighting chance...

...I just haven't met any of those yet.

Sister: You are never going to have sex.


THIS is why families are great.

Relieved

Last night I dreamed I watched the Atlantis space shuttle launch.The shuttle was shaped like a gigantic R2D2, and after it rose off the launch pad and I was starting to think everything was going to be okay, the top lifted off like it was on a hinge, it flipped over, and crashed back into the earth, creating a debris storm and shockwaves that knocked out an entire city.

I'm glad that didn't really happen.

Stories I Like To Tell

*Names have not been changed in order to incriminate the guilty.

I anticipated experiencing many different things my first year of college. Waking up on a Saturday morning alone on my English professor's basement floor was not one of them.

Despite that rather scandalous introduction, this story suffers from a severe lack of hanky-panky and a serious overabundance of Disney movies. Let's start at the beginning.

I went to a very small private college in rural Virginia. My first year there I was one of only 4oo students, and we were a tight-knit community. My roommates were friends with one of the English professor's sons, who was also a student. Let's call him Jared. I knew him somewhat through our interactions in choir and because of our mutual friends. At the end of the school year, Jared invited everyone (literally, everyone) to a party at his parents' house to watch Disney movies all night long. (Yes, we're all very Mormon.) After assisting us in dropping brownies off (in a very co-ed Mormon way) at the doorstep of a house full of cute boys, my friend (let's call him Luke) had given me and a few other friends a ride to the party where we met the rest of the group, including my roommate (let's call her Bethany).

The house was full of reveling Mormon college students looking for some post-semester stress relief. The Sprite and hormones flowed freely. My friends and I grabbed handfuls of chips and fun-size candy bars and headed down into the basement, hoping to nab some prime real-estate next to one of SVU's few eligible bachelors. I don't think I was successful in cuddling with the aforementioned Luke (who I definitely had my eye on), since he was at the time making overtures at another girl (who shall remain nameless because she didn't leave me alone on the basement floor). Despite the sad lack of passionate freshman cuddling, I did my best to enjoy the night, sandwiched among my good friends on bean bag chairs and pillows watching Disney movies to our hearts' content. Somewhere around 3 or 4 in the morning, just as The Fox and the Hound was coming to its heartbreaking conclusion, I began to fall asleep, sure in the knowledge that surely either my dear roommate or the gentlemanly boy who gave me a ride would wake me when it was time to leave. Surrounded by a basement-full of friends and acquaintances, many of whom were also dozing, I drifted into a world-famous deep Lauren sleep.

The next thing I heard was a strange hissing noise. Peeling my eyes open, I realized that the room was markedly lighter than it had been when I'd fallen asleep. I also noticed that my limbs had their full-range of motion--I was no longer shmooshed between thousands of sleeping college students. I heard the noise again and lifted my head to the stairs. Jared stood, perched over the railing, halfway down the staircase. "Hey, girl. Girl! Wake up," I now realized he had been saying/hissing. I was very much alone. On the basement floor. "Where'deverybodygowhattimeisit?" I sat up and squawked groggily. "Almost nine, and I don't know," he said, stifling a laugh. Apparently, sometime during the night he stumbled up to his room to sleep, which happened around the same time my friends LEFT me ALONE on the basement floor. When the respected English professor awoke and strolled down to his basement, he received quite the shock upon seeing my awkwardly sleeping form, ALONE on his basement floor. He woke his son, saying, "Jared, there's a girl in the basement."

Jared offered to give me a ride back to campus as I was still quite visibly confused as to what the hell just happened to me. I grabbed my jacket and tried to rub the nasty gunk out from the corners of my eyes and followed him up the stairs. The respected English professor's family sat cozily at the kitchen table, enjoying their Saturday morning breakfast, and respected English professor's wife graciously invited me to join them. Still trying to regain my normal person voice, I squawked out what I hope was a polite "nothankyou," scrambled out the door and into the car, and thus endured one of the most awkward five minute car rides of my life.

Properly deposited in front of my dorm, I climbed the stairs to the third floor (C-3 what what), promptly woke the offending abandoners, and demanded an explanation. I don't remember their excuses, which surely means they were pathetic and not worth remembering, but each of them found it OHSOFUNNY that I spent the night alone on the respected English professor's basement floor.

Who's laughing now, offending abandoners??!

STATUS UPDATE!

why? because reading it once on facebook just isn't enough.
the so-far status updates of 2009:

january
3: hold me close, young tony danza
13: loves emails that include the word buttloads
17: is finally back in the state of the bluths, tanners, and cohens
19: got a little pink in the sun on the beach today!!!!
20: can't wait to chill with m-i-c-k-e-y tomorrow
22: got dissssed by a turtle
23: back in the library for an exciting evening
24: finally organized her crazy jumble of mission pics. a year and a half later...
25: is awkward the new charming? please...?
27: placed a temporary hold on her personal mucinex boycott
28: feels like poop poop poop, and bought tylenol cold so she can resume her boycott
29: (still whining) hates that she can't eat triscuits 'cause her throat still hurts. also, the weird popping in the left ear is getting old...
30: a little more phem and a little less eu

february
1: sliiiiim pickin's
2: has a job again!
3: wants to go camping something fierce
5: wants to go to there
6: doesn't know what to wear to this toga party
7: is making babies in the library...http://www.vw.com/vwhype/babymaker/en/us/
11: is in the library again. unfortunately, no babies are being made
13: hearts the d-land crew
17: wishes you all a happy Life Day
18: is old enough to know, but too young to care
20: is angry at the wii-fit
21: knows a date is successful when you get a free pair of socks
22: would like to thank the academy...for hugh jackman's singing and dancing
24: asks "is this about what happened in the bathroom? 'cause there wasn't enough room to cuddle"
28: is studying...on the beach

march
1: imaginsiff
2: is a riot on an empty street
3: can't rule out buried treasure. fiji, anyone?
4: thinks it should never rain in fiji
5: nobody's gonna rain on my parade
5: wishes she weren't such a procrastinator and could join the giant game of library tag. sigh.
6: can enjoy the weekend now! woot!
7: politics+religion+second date=bad news bears
8: is tired of bears
10: my kingdom for a foot massage!
12: whoa overtimes
13: dear new facebook, i like you even less than the old new facebook. please change. for me. love, lauren
15: laughcoughlaughcoughlaughcoughlaughcough
16: doctors aren't allowed to go on spring break
18: is getting ready to cough all over disneyland
20: i'm FINALLY going to see slumdog! text if'n you wanna come
21: well, that was a freebie
23: is the star of her new favorite song
25: strep, mono, mrs. barlow, fruit plates, o'dea, messy room, the beach, docility, and bears
27: LOVED IT
29: is off to write that hit song, alone in my principles
31: my creepy stalking skills have failed me

april
2: dreams of horses
5: lost at sequence, dumped by bob, spilled my dinner. worst. day. ever.
5: made up with bob, ticked off hannah, ate two cinnamon rolls. best. day. ever.
6: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8b39gIMMqr8
9: has sehnsucht, thanks to her skinny, lung-dwelling-fat-kid brother
10: won't be setting any personal records today :-( hahaha
11: hehehe i'm evading taskmaster bianca!!! look at me reveling in my freeeeeedom!!!
12: evaded and reveled too much
12: i am not amused. how am i supposed to change my siblings' profile pics to resemble mine if they all go and get new passwords and conveniently forget to tell me!! y'all have ruined my easter fun
13: 30 days!

i need an intervention.....

Joey and Janice's Day of Fun...s!!!!

So...I'm poor. Poorer than I was when I came into this world. Thus, for Christmas I decided to give the gift of time. I spent an evening each with Mum & Dad, Julie & Jana, and Dan & Grandma, with a twelve dollar spending limit each night. It was, if I say so myself, quite ballin'. Here's a recap of our Joey and Janice's Day of Fun...s!!

Evening the First:
I went with Mum and Dad to the Salt Lake City Library to explore. We spent most of our time in the basement in the children's collection and found some great international kids books, most notably the German favorite "Vom Kleinen Maulwurf, Der Wissen Wollte, Wer Ihm Auf Den Kopf Gemacht Hat" (The Little Mole Who Wanted to Know Who Pooped On His Head). We curled up on a LoveSac and I read/translated. Truly, this was quite the literary moment.

Other highlights include three-tiered fireplaces, being mistaken for a teenager, and shakes at Hires afterwards.

Evening the Second:
I went to Ikea with Jana and helped pick out some stellar window treatments and light fixtures for her condo. We picked up some treats and a movie and went home to lounge about with Julie. We took some pics of us lookin' reeeeaal good. Here's a sample:

We are real good looking. We know.

Evening the Third:
I picked up some Del Taco and met Dan at Grandma's. We ate, watched a basketball game, and pulled out the cards for a killer game of Old Maid.

We're also real good at Slap Jack, Connect Four, and Hungry Hungry Hippos.

Joey and Janice's Day of Fun...s were a hit, if I say so myself. Thanks for playing, kids!

Mosaic

Here's Lauren in photo-mosaic form, a'la Flickr:



1. Shelby. And Lauren. We like the latter., 2. Leda, 3. Untitled, 4. Are You Looking At Me ???, 5. A little fight in you. I like that., 6. ready for limeade, 7. Green velvet, 8. McCormick Pumpkin Pie Spice Tin, 9. Professor_Mom, 10. The Earth is God's Canvas., 11. Enjoy summer (and beer), 12. Lou Reed

If you want to play, here's how:

Type your answer to each of the questions below into a Flickr search. Using only the first page, choose your favorite image, then copy and paste each of the URL’s into the mosaic maker (3 columns, 4 rows). Leave me a comment if you do it, so I can check it out!

The questions:

1. what is your first name? (Lauren)
2. what is your favorite food? (bread)
3. what high school did you attend? (Hillcrest)
4. what is your favorite color? (brown)
5. who is your celebrity crush? (Christian Bale)
6. favorite drink? (limeade)
7. dream vacation? (Switzerland--and the pic is from Montreux!))
8. favorite dessert? (pumpkin pie)
9. what do you want to be when you grow up? (professor-mom)
10. what do you love most in life? (joy)
11. one word to describe you. (fun)
12. your flickr name. (laurielou29--nothing showed up so i searched laurie lou)

Lesson Learned, Tough stuff.

I'm a genius. Things that don't look like they'll fit into slots in your computer probably will not fit into said slots and should not be forced in anyway. Lesson learned. The computer is fine. The brand new 4gb memory stick, however, is not. This means that all the pics on it are...gone. Gone gone gone. Gone are the hopes of new Facebook albums, and illustrated blog posts detailing winter break fun. Gone are the videos of my attempts at hip-hop immortality (this is actually a very shiny silver lining...)
It could be worse. The pictures/videos on now-defunct memory stick are actually very small in number and fall into three categories: 1)Joey and Janice's Day of Fun...s, 2)Roadtrip with the ickle Dannykins back to California, including a pit-stop in St. George to see my favorite sister missionary, and 3)January 19 Beach Trip of Sunshiny Goodness with Hannah and aforementioned ickle Dannykins.
What's that? You can only imagine how spectacular these pictures and their accompanying stories were? You want nothing more than to get a taste of what was lost, no matter how pathetic the attempt to recreate such memories? Fear not, huddled masses. I understand.
Coming soon: Pathetic Attempts at Re(-)creation...

Bare Naked Snobbery and Righteous Indignation

Note: Reading through this, it really is pure, unadulterated snobbery and indignation. Consider yourself warned. I also don't mean this as a personal attack on anyone I know and love...maybe on some I know and don't love, though...jk :-) I write this as a response to a general attitude. I promise. Heartsies :-)


I hate Twilight. I love hating Twilight. Hating Twilight has become a passion of mine. I can't let it die. I read the first three books. I couldn't put them down. I hated myself for that. By the end of the third book, I hated all of the characters (though Rosalie was starting to grow on me, mostly because she was the only one that recognized just how mentally deficient Bella was). I wanted the fourth book to be two pages long: Edward bites Bella. He loses control. Bella dies. Edward, the psychopath that he is, laughs and finds another personality-less teenager to manipulate. That's a whole lot of hate and uncharitable feelings to be coming from one average-sized girl. I refused to read the fourth book, out of principle, but still wanted to know what happens. I looked it up online. I swear I vomited at least three times just reading the synopsis. Really? REALLY?

I could attack Twilight for its writing style. I'm not a very good writer, but I'm convinced I could write better dialogue than Stephenie Meyer. I'll leave that alone for now, though.

Those who defend Twilight say it's just harmless fantasy lit. Escapist fluff. This terrifies me. What are these women escaping to? An abusive (yes, abusive. I'll say it again, ABUSIVE) relationship with a vampire?! Really? REALLY? A vampire who is infinitely stronger, smarter, faster, richer, and more powerful than you? And the only way you'll ever become anything close to his equal is by sacrificing your own life and future to attach yourself to him for eternity? This is what we want?? What a message to be sending to the media, who can't help but fixate on Meyer's Mormonism. To those who would tell me to stop thinking about it so hard, it's just a fun story, I would strike a deal. I'll stop thinking about it so hard as soon as you start thinking about it a little. I know, I'm a snob and a jerk about it. Here is a great article to get you started thinking. :-)

I'm not a fan of censorship or dictating what others should or shouldn't read. But I wish I had sat down and had a frank discussion about this with the teenage girls I used to work with who called Twilight their Bible, instead of just rolling my eyes whenever they started read it for the umpteenth time. I think (/hope/pray) that this is just a fad. Once all the movies have been made and people start coming to their senses, Twilight will die an ignominious death. If however, my teenage daughters one day in the distant future stumble across it (or any other such "escapist" chick-lit) and want to read it, that's fine. I only hope I will have taught them well enough that they'll laugh at all the wrong parts, feel sorry for Bella, and walk away emotionally unharmed. If not, well, we'll have a good long chat.

The Year in Books

I know it's only the beginning of November, but considering the amount of work I've been procrastinating, I'm not going to leave the library until Christmas break. So I might as well procrastinate a little more today and review the books I've read this year that I really dug and have stayed with me through the months.

• Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis: I got it for Christmas last year, and though I'm not usually in to much science fiction, I'm definitely in to C.S. Lewis. It's a little thin on plot, but big on ideas. Basically a British philologist is captured by two bad guys and they take him to Mars to offer him up as sacrifice to the ruling beings there. He escapes when they arrive and travels the planet, studying and making friends with the different life forms there. He learns that all the planets were originally connected, each with their own ruling spirit that could communicate with the spirits over other planets. Earth, however, rebelled and destroyed its ruling spirit, and so they call it the Silent Planet. Because this is Lewis, there are of course billions of religious undertones, and they're the most interesting parts of the book. This is the first in a series of three, and is definitely my favorite. The second, Perelandra, is about the philologist's trip to Venus. Again, it's definitely thin on plot, but the ideas about The Fall are fascinating. That Hideous Strength is set on Earth and is sort of a "Last Days" book. This one is more plot driven, and mostly succeeds in creeping me out a little. Again, some great ideas on spirituality, but weird imagery.



• The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger: I remember hearing about this book in middle school because it was one of the optional books for our group reports, but required parental permission to read. The kids that read it were the rebels :-) I picked it up one day at work to read while watching the showers and immediately fell in love with Holden Caulfield. He was honestly one of the most relatable characters I had read in a long time. I wonder what that says about me...:-) I would much much much rather my teenagers read this book instead of something inane and ridiculous like Twilight. Both have ridiculously flawed main characters who are emotionally unstable, but in Twilight that's apparently a good attribute. I'd take a Holden over a Bella any day. And yes, it really really really really pains me to admit I've read Twilight.
  
  
  
• A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini: I read The Kite Runner last year and loved the imagery, the characters, and the humanity depicted. Then, this summer my Mum recommended Hosseini's second book. I read it in about three hours, then cried for another two. Hosseini's gift is creating characters who are so real, even though they're so foreign to American readers. Dan read it after I did, and one night he, Mum, and I sat on Mum's bed discussing it. All we had to say was "Maryam..." and look at each other and we almost started crying again.

• Life of Pi by Yann Martel: After hearing that I had been accepted to CGU to study religion, a friend at work recommended this book. I loved it all-- Pi's devotion to any religion he can find, his relationship with the Bengal Tiger Richard Parker, the open ending. Yes, it's about a boy trapped on the ocean in a lifeboat with a tiger. Read it anyway. Nay, read it for that reason.



• The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd: Julie sent me this book right after I moved to CA, so I read it one Saturday night before I found a social life and had too much homework. The prose is very lyrical--I had to read some things twice they were so beautifully said. That's a rarity for me :-) The conclusion is fairly obvious, but the images of the female divine make it all worth it. This book is very female-empowered, but not to the point of disempowering men. A profound story of a girl discovering her individual divinity.



• A Mormon Mother by Annie Clark Tanner: I read this book for my "Mormonism Through the Eyes of Women" class and it broke my heart. Annie Tanner tells her own story of becoming a polygamous wife in late 19th century Utah, raising children alone, watching the church disavow polygamy, and coming to terms with a rapidly modernized society. She's my new hero. Most heart-breaking moment: being dropped off at the train station by her new husband and his first wife so she can go home to her mother's house. She can't tell anyone she just got married, and won't see her husband again for a few weeks. She sits at the table eating bread, thinking of all her friends who were lucky enough to be first wives and all the fun things involved in their weddings. Oh Annie.
  


• Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card: I went to an Anberlin show a couple weeks ago in Pomona. I was by myself and had no interest in the three opening bands, so I wandered around the shops in the neighborhood for awhile. I found this in a 2nd-hand book store, had always heard good things about it, had an hour or so to kill, and it was only a couple bucks. I absolutely loved the first two-thirds. Ender's development into a powerful leader is really well written, and the war-games, I must admit, are tons of fun to read about. The last third seemed really rushed to me, and the conclusion therefore was unsatisfying. But overall, like most of Card's stuff that I've read, the characters make it worth it.

Grandma Knows Best

I just got off the phone with my favorite "Ol' Girl". Some highlights of our conversation: (make sure you imagine a sweet 83 year old grandma voice saying these things)

-"I just think McCain is such a smart-ass."

-"Just think, if something happened to him, all the tea parties she'd throw..." (regarding Sarah Palin, in a really disgusted voice)

-"He's just such a smart-alec." Me: "That's not what you said earlier, Grandma." Grandma: "Well, I'm trying to clean my language up," followed by a giggle because we both know that's never going to happen.

Yeah, my grandma rocks.

Rwanda

Today is my mum's birthday. In honor of such a tremendous event, I'd like to pay tribute to her by relating an embarrassing story about her, and I do so with love.

One fall evening last year, the Kennards were lounging about the living room trying to decide where to go for dinner. Of course, any decision requires a long, drawn-out discussion with much bandying about (it's the Kennard way, you see), so we were lounging for quite a while. In the midst of the lounging, my brother mentioned that he had been amazed to text the word "Rwanda" successfully with his phone in predictive mode. Determined to prove or disprove his claim, we each pulled out our phones and tried it. It worked. Then, still with no dinner-plan conclusion in sight, my siblings and I decided to each text "Rwanda" to another family member. I sent the message to my dear mum, knowing that a) she hadn't been paying much attention to our discussion, and b) she never turns her phone on. We enjoyed our thirty seconds of fun, finally reached a satisfying conclusion, and left for dinner.

Our story now jumps forward five or six days. In the darkest hours of the night, I was enjoying a peaceful slumber. My door swung suddenly open and I was rudely awakened by the beam of the hall light shining directly into my sleepy face. My mum stood in the doorway in her robe and slippers, hunched with fatigue and hair awry. I'm sure I said something quite intelligent, such as, "Well, Mother, whatever could the matter be that you would so rudely waken me," but I fear only a muffled "Whuh?" came to be articulated. She whispered, "Just making sure you're okay. Go back to sleep," and closed the door. I, being most bewildered, but grateful to return to my comatose state, quickly forgot the matter and fell promptly asleep.

The event remained mostly forgotten the next day, until my brother came to pick me up after work and I learned the full tale of what had transpired in the night. Mum had been awoken by the sound of the home phone ringing strangely. She picked it up, and heard nothing--not even a dialtone. She hung up, then tried again. Still, nothing. Dad was away on business, and Mum's first thought was of the urban legend, "The Babysitter," and that someone had cut the phone lines (overactive imaginationing is also the Kennard way, in addition to bandying about). She panicked when she heard movement downstairs, but managed to calm herself down enough to realize it was probably my older sister getting up to use the bathroom (that's the Julie way). She gathered her courage and went down to see if Julie, if indeed it was Julie, knew what was wrong with the phones. Julie, showing great presence of mind at such an hour, remembered that the phone company had recently informed us they'd be doing maintenance and we'd therefore be out of service for a few hours. Accepting this answer, yet still slightly frazzled, Mum trudged back upstairs to bed. She decided that since the phone was out, she'd better pull out her cell phone to have at the ready, should the need arise. She turned the phone on, then received quite a startle when the phone immediately--and loudly--beeped, informing her of a text message from her darling daughter, me. "But why on earth would my darling daughter send me a text at such an ungodly hour?" Mum wondered. Her weary befuddlement was amplified when she saw the content of the message: a single word, "Rwanda." Her motherly and imaginative instincts now in full swing, she concluded that someone had, indeed, broken into the home, was in my room about to end my young, promising life, and that my only opportunity to cry for help was to reach for my phone and beg my mum to save me, only I just had time for one word, and the one word that most exemplified my distress was "RWANDA!!!!!!" Mum, as any warm-blooded mother would, sprang from her room and burst into mine, ready to bare-handedly beat away the nefarious foe who would seek to end such an innocent life. Imagine her joy, and perhaps her feeling of underappreciation, when her efforts were met with a gruff "whuh," and a sleepy glare. Satisfied that her cubs were safe, my mama bear trudged back to bed and the restful sleep of the victor.

I tell this story because, well, we think it's funny (it's the Kennard way) and therefore make some reference to it at least once a week. Does Mum protest? Nay! She laughs along with us. Indeed, I believe it was my mum who first coined the phrase "good sport" and therefore should be earning handsome copyright profits. This is truly an example to be emulated.

In all seriousness, I love how my mom doesn't take herself so seriously. Seriously. This is something I still need to work on (seriously. Jana, if I have to hear the bulimic bohemian story one more time...).

The Post That Mom and Grandma Aren't Allowed to Read

This post is subtitled: "What Goes to Vegas, Stays in Vegas," or "The American Girl Who Went to Vegas With a Car...And Came Back Without." (yes, that's a slightly pathetic attempt to spoof a Hugh Grant movie)

Here's the story:

Jana was in Vegas on her very first grown-up business trip and since it's only about a three and a half hour drive from Claremont, I decided to drive up Tuesday after class and party with her. I packed a light overnight bag, hopped in my trusty, rusty '93 blue Oldsmobile "Brunhilde" (which, by the way, just a month ago drove all the way from Salt Lake to Claremont with NO problems whatsoever) and planned on getting to the Monte Carlo by 7:30. At about 6:30 I was jamming out to Journey's "Seperate Ways," a song which demands volume. I checked my rear-view mirror and saw that everyone behind me was merging away. I was a little offended until I noticed the smoke Bruni was puffing into their faces. Not. Good. I quickly pulled off onto the shoulder, and, assuming the car had overheated, let her sit for about thirty minutes or so. On the plus-side, there was a really cool sunset. Way to go, Sunset.

After a proper cool down, Bruni seemed ready to roll again. We set off with my eyes glued to the thermometer and ears pealed for strange noises. Such noises appeared around 7:30, just about half an hour outside of Vegas, and they were bad noises. Very bad. I pulled over again and knew she wasn't going to make it. I made some phone calls to Jana and AAA (thanks for the membership, Papa Bear!) and hunkered down to wait for the tow-truck. He showed up between 8:30 and 9 and towed me to Silverado Ranch, about 9 miles from the strip, singing country songs all the way. Jana had carpooled with her coworkers so she didn't have her car, and they were all at dinner west of Vegas, so I walked from the auto-shop to Walmart and bought a Lunchable to hold me over until Jana's coworkers finished dinner and could come pick me up. I don't know why a Lunchable, it just sounded good at the time. I decided to walk a little over a mile down to Las Vegas Blvd to see if there were any buses that could take me down to the strip. There weren't. Jana called and said that her coworkers were on their way and I should stay put so they could find me. I found a bench at a deserted bus stop and sat down to eat and decided to get some homework done while I was waiting. When John and Dave found me, they joked that they were excited to get home and tell their wives that they picked up a young blonde on Vegas Blvd. I assume they're going to leave off the part about how said blonde was eating a Lunchable and reading Kierkegaard....

I finally arrived at the casino around 11 and was reunited with my long lost sister. I dumped my stuff in Jana's room, we got a quick, LATE, dinner at the food court and strolled down to the Bellagio to watch the fountains. I liked 'em.

We wandered around a bit more and headed back to the Monte Carlo around 12:30 or 1 to find the guys deeply absorbed in the craps table and Diablo's Wheel. I decided to try my luck... :-) John had won about $500 at craps but lacked the patience to teach me how to play, so I just handed him 40 bucks and let him win it for me :-) I stood next to him and every once in a while he'd say, "we want a six...we really want a six" so then I'd cheer if a six was rolled. I'm real good at craps. In about twenty minutes John had turned my 40 into 125 big ones. I gave him a $5 tip for not losing my money, and happily pocketed my $80 extra. We stayed at the craps tables, with Jana playing wife/mother by holding on to the guys' winnings so they wouldn't blow them, until about 2:30 then called it a night.

I slept in the next morning while Jana went to class, then woke up and had to deal with grown-up things. No fun. I called the auto-shop and they told me that my engine was eating itself. Seriously, those are the words they used. They just laughed when I said "So you're telling me I'm not gonna make it back to Southern California..." Bruni was officially dead. Mad props to Jana for helping me be a grown-up. I booked a seat on a Greyhound back to Claremont and made arrangements to donate my dead car to some charity. Then some of the guys needed to go to H&M to get stuff for their wives, and Jana and I certainly weren't going to turn down that opportunity, so we went to H&M with about 6 of her male coworkers who told us that we had a twenty minute maximum. Ha. Mad props to them for not being too mad at us for going thirty minutes over our alloted time :-) They then took us out to the auto shop to clean my car out and for me to kiss her goodbye. Sigh. My poor girl.

Jana and I really wanted to go on the roller coaster at New York New York before we left so the guys, even though they really just wanted to get on the road, took pity on us and we all blew $14 on a roller coaster. That was pretty good times...maybe not $14 worth of good times, but good times nonetheless. Who knew real-estate appraisers could be so fun? I sure didn't.

After the roller coaster the guys dropped me off at the Vegas Greyhound station. I love Greyhound, it's such an adventure! Three years ago I took a Greyhound to Colorado and back for a friend's wedding and had a great time. I made a new pot-head friend named Zane who involved me in a deep philosophical conversation, bought me a Gatorade, and fell asleep on my shoulder. He was good times. As I was waiting in line to board the bus to LA, a man walked in the door, stumbled up to me and muttered something like "You look like the kind of girl who wants to go to Nashville," followed by some unintelligble grumbling. I don't know why I don't find things like that scary...maybe it's because we dealt with it every day in Germany (missionaries are crazy magnets...ask anyone). I rolled my eyes, took a step back, and said "Excuse me, sir," in my most bored voice. He stumbled off for a minute, then came back and said "I know what you're like...girls are all the same," and stumbled out the door. It was kinda funny/sad. I got on the bus and had a row to myself. There was a little girl in front of me who looked to be about a little over a year old. She kept offering to share her Cheetos with me and in the process smashed them all over the back of her seat. I love Greyhound. I turned on my iPod, listened to some amazing music (I have excellent taste, what can I say), watched another beautiful sunset, and had great views of the stars out my window. The rest of the ride passed without incident. We got in to Claremont around 9:45, and I debated about whether to call someone to pick me up from the station or not since my roommates are out of town. My stubbornly independent streak got the best of me, and I decided that two miles really isn't that far to walk through a little college town. I forgot I had two heavy bags and was wearing $3 Old Navy flip-flops. But it was a nice night, and I had plenty of time to think about the advantages of not having a car (more to come on that in a later post). I got home, fed the cat, and crashed. I was carless, out about $100, had sore, filthy feet, but felt that life was great :-)

A super big shout-out to Jana, for rocking it up with me despite the stress, and to the guys at Integra. Again, who knew that real-estate appraisers were so much fun?? Thanks, y'all!!