STOP BLINKING AT ME!

I cannot drive. Fact. I know it is absurd. I am so perfect in every single way. How is it possible that I cannot drive? Well, it’s possible. My car has the bruises to prove it. Sorry parked bus that I sideswiped. Sorry dormant cement poll that got to third base with my car. In all honesty, neither should have been in my way. *cue Luda ‘Get Out Da Way’*

Even though my driving should be confined to the Power Wheels my butt wishes it would fit in, I still feel the need to kvetch about other drivers on the road. Just because I cannot do, doesn’t mean I cannot complain. Jew genes strike again. SO, on that note, whattup with blinker happy drivers? I absolutely despise people who leave their blinker on. Hate it. Like, have the paparazzi follow it, take a bunch of embarrassing pictures of it and sell them to the Enquirer hate. Why? Well, for completely irrational reasons, of course. But, honestly, when have you ever known me to be logical. Let’s get serious people.

Reason #1: It makes me think the car is schizophrenic. Who doesn’t feel bad for a schizo? Not I. Mel Gibson put down your hand. We all know you hate schizo’s, along with Jews, black people, gay people, fat people, and leprechauns. When a person leaves their blinker on, I literally think the car is having a blinking seizure. PEOPLE! The highway is not a rave, no need to be leaving your blinkers on all willy nilly.

Reason #2: The beat of the blinker NEVER matches the beat of the Gavin Degraw CD stuck in my CD player, which I am stuck listening to (Gavin, you totally owe me a lap dance if I ever meet you. Actually, you kind of owe my car a lap dance since, technically, my car is the one you are emotionally scarring. Wait until you see what’s under my hood. Bow chicka bow wow). When the beat of my music does not match the continuous blinking in front of me, it throws my white girl dance moves off-balance (tapping my steering wheel), which throws my driving skills even more off-balance. Do you really want to take that risk, BLINKER SLUT? DO YOU? That’s what I thought.

I Winona Ryder'd Your Story

This is a great story my cousin told me twice. I would also like to publicly warn Lifetime. Do not try to make a Lifetime original movie based on this story. Jessica, the clown, and I own all rights.

Jessica:

So, it was April Fool’s Day and the St. Stupid’s Day Parade was going on in the city. I was walking back to my office with my tacos. I got tacos for lunch. All of a sudden a stupid clown KICKED ME. THAT FUCKING CLOWN KICKED ME. I couldn’t believe it. I was so pissed. “You stupid fucking clown!” When I said that he ran a block away, looked back at me, and told me to go back to LA. What does that even mean?! “Fuck you clown!”

That clown almost made me drop my tacos. I would have been really pissed if I dropped my tacos.

The End

Moral of Jessica’s Story: Don’t make homegirl drop her tacos.

When I Was 25...

So, what’d you do this weekend shoog-uh?

Oh. You know. The usual. I got all crunk and stuff with ma ladies, Cindy and Samantha. We traded in our Cabbage Patch dolls for some pre-teen fun that would make Miley Cyrus jealous.

Really?

Uh, duh. First stop, yogurt land in my mini dress. The yogurt guy was all like “what flava you want?” and I was all like “Pffft. I want three. It’s self serve, donkey. Don’t act like you haven’t seen me here 5 times in the past 3 days.” Then he was all like “whoa.” Then I was like “Don’t mess with me on a Friday night fool.” Then I walked to the yogurt machine with a little Jive. Riveting material here.

Once I filled my cup with yogurt, I moseyed on over to the toppings bar. I stared yogurt man right in the eye and loaded my cup with GRANOLA. He was like “you can’t have all those toppings.” Then I was all like “SAY HELLO TO MY LACTOSE FRIEND!” and I threw the cup of yogurt in his face.

Okay. That didn’t happen at all. I paid for my yogurt and then inhaled it. I just like to pretend I have these awesome conversations with the yogurt man because I am in there so often that I am able to read his judgmental face that says “Why you eatin so much yogurt?” Well, because, IT HAS BACTERIA THAT IS REALLY GOOD FOR MY LADY PARTS... also, I love the new chocolate coconut mint flavor. It tastes like a Mounds Bar.

After Cindy and Samantha finished telling me the story about shaving their friends neck (neck hair + yogurt = best topping ever) we decided to turn our G-rated fun up a notch. Oh, be ready for this. We went to a bar. Where they serve alcohol. And have customers older than 9. Back-off Disney evening, we are going straight to ABC Family.

Waitress: What can I get you ladies?

Samantha: Do you guys have water?

Waitress: Um. Yeah...

Me: Ooooooh! I am so thirsty. Can we get three waters?

Waitress: (really annoyed) would you like anything else?

Cindy: STEAK FRIES?!

Samantha, Cindy, and I: YEAH! STEAK FRIES!

Waitress: Ugh. I'll be back with your water and fries.

Oh. I can tell you're worried. Please, don't be. We asked for the ketchup and vinegar when the waitress brought us our fries and waters. Phew! I know you're relieved.

Sometimes I Wonder Why I Don't Have A BF

Do you remember your first crush? I do. I mean I remember my first crush, not your first crush. That would be creepy. And hot.

Exhibit A: The Scarecrow

Who's that sexy man that lights my fire and then runs away from it? It's the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. Duh. I held a grudge against Dorothy for 2 years because of this brainless bag of straw. I thought that skipping, red slippered, ho-bag was trying to get all up in my business. I mean, the woman helped him get a brain! The only thing I could offer him was a Kraft single and a minute long serenade on my Casio. Hmmm. Wonder if that will work now?

Exhibit B: David Bowie in Labyrinth

HOLY FREAKING HOTNESS. There was something so wonderfully erotic about David Bowie in the Labyrinth. His spiky blonde hair, sharp pointed teeth, and large bulge (it was honestly disturbing) made me sing like a choir girl. When I first saw the movie I told my mom that I was going to marry Bowie. She then asked me if I was a lesbian. I was 5.

Exhibit C: Tom Selleck

Back-up, homegurl. Mind yo business and stop fantasizing about running yo fingers across my man's chest. I don't care if you have seen every episode of Magnum PI and own Mr. Baseball, I called dibs on this hunky piece of hairy man meat in 1989. Award for most mature crush by a 4 year old goes to MOI. I used to daydream about Tom's (yes, we are on a first name basis) manstache.

Best part, TS's Magnum double lived in my building. That's right. Ready to cry some real tears, drama club? He was almost as good as the real thing. I used to force my mom to take me to his apartment, so I could ask him to tell Tom that "I love him" and ask him if he would marry me...WHEN I TURNED 18. Gosh. I'm not gross.

Who was your first crush?

America. Way Better than Korea.

Fireworks in the nightime and jean cut-offs on whitetrash...these are a few of my favorite things! You were supposed to sing that like Julie Andrews, WHO, BY THE WAY, was the original Justin Bieber. Compare and contrast the following:

You totally see it. Anywho, fireworks and jean cut-offs means it's 4th of July and that means I have an excuse to be my trashy self. This year my dumb BFF and her BF and his BF came down to SD to visit me. That was so much fun and I am not even going to translate it. Stop being annoyed by me and get with the lingo.

The whole weekend was filled with amazingness but the most amazing of all the days was the 4th. Why? Well, it could be the disgustingly inebriated girl in a bikini who dropped her sandwich roll on the pee infested sidewalk of downtown San Diego and just HAD TO bend over to get it. "WHAT THE FUCK?" Yep. That was Jon's very suttle reaction. At least the attention was no longer on her exposed bottom and instead focused on drunk Jon in the middle of the street laughing at the hot mess. Later that evening Jon would outdo himself by stealing two slices of pizza from Ciro's: "Who leaves pizza just sitting on the counter? I had to eat them." Poor drunk people who are still yearning for their greasy carbs.

Another possible reason why the day was so amazing could be my last trip to the restroom that evening. The fireworks were over. Danielle and I had to pee the litre of alcohol we just drank. So, we entered the fancy Hyatt Regency. We were about to enter the restroom when a 30 something woman came running out of the bathroom with her blonde crimped hair and American flag shirt. "I'M NOT PREGNANT!!!" Wait. Excuse me. "THE TEST CAME OUT NEGATIVE." Ahem. What? "I LOVE YOU, BABY (jumps into hubby's arms)!" Really? I mean, really? Did you really just take a pregnancy test, in a hotel bathroom, on the 4th of July? Yes. Yes, you did.

Too bad she wasn't preggers. She could have had a themed baby. Frat boy Jon style ;)

Under-WHAT?!

It was 1989 and I was looking all sassy in my polka-dot skirt, pink crunch socks, and my fly fanny pack. I was ready to take on the world with the outfit that made Dakota Fanning look like a punk. Unfortunately, I had some horrible opposition to wearing underwear. I really don’t know why, but I just felt like my carebear underoo’s would get in the way of my schoolyard crunking.

My hatred of underwear worried mama bear. Mindel saw my staunch opposition to my elementary chastity belt as a hint to teenage trouble. No underwear at the age of 4 meant I would be the less freckled version of Lindsay Lohan. Word. But, it really was not that complicated. I did not want to wear underwear because Mindel said I was supposed to and it acted as one more obstacle to my potty time. What can I say? I am half Italian, which means I AM INCREDIBLY LAZY. It’s in the genes.

Well, back to my skirt story. So, Mindel was all up in my business:

Mindel: Lauren, did you put on your underwear?
Me: (cross arms and stare-off)
Mindel: I told you to put on your underwear. The boys are going to think you are a slut.
Me: What’s a slut?
Mindel: A girl that doesn’t wear underwear, applies too much white lipstick, and shaves.
Me: I want to be a slut. Can I have lipstick?
Mindel: Fine. You don’t want to wear underwear. I am tired of fighting with you. You can learn your lesson the hard way.

What the heck, mom? Calling me a slut at the age of FOUR? Always trying to one-up Freud. Well, Mindel said I can learn my lesson and boy oh boy did I learn my lesson. It was time for recess and being as intelligent as I was I decided it was a good day to go on the Jungle Gym. WHY AM I SO DUMB? So, I climbed up the stupid spherical awesomeness. I still hadn’t Britney-ed anyone. Then I had the most genius idea of all: hang upside down. GASP.

Oh. Yeah. The gasp was not from me. The gasp was from my teacher. There were other reactions too. Like, Yosi, my schoolyard crush, who yelled “WHAT’S THAT?” He was referring to my whoo-whoo, in case you were wondering. Ms. Cookie, sat me down, explained the importance of underwear, and basically told me that my whoo-whoo scared everyone “Species” status.

Yeah. Underwear became my favorite item of clothing after that incident.