I am pissed off.

I became a stereotype. My husband did too. I never thought that it would happen to us but alas, it has.

We are the sexless couple.

Obviously we've had sex at least once (um, I did bore a child). In fact, you nosy assholes, we used to have sex a lot. Well, not A LOT, but average. Even while I was pregnant we romped about three times a week.

Now? Notsomuch. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. That's a lie. I totally do. I feel unsexy. I have never been this heavy and being naked is not something I enjoy. I'm always tired. I had a child attached to my tits for over a year and now that I have them back it's almost like I forgot their other purpose.

Enough of that shit. In an effort to not drive my husband into the arms and bed of another woman I have decided to spice things up! Yes! I, Lauren, will be more saucy. I will make a fucking effort for once.

Enter: the sex toy! A friend of mine sent me a We-Vibe and it rules. It has nine different vibration settings (some were downright painful but most? Excellent.) and even has a charger that plugs into the wall. You know, to use in the outlet behind your bed so that your kid doesn't find it and use it as a teething toy.

Not that anything like that happened here. Right.

I loved that Jacob wasn't threatened by having a vibrator join us. My guess is that if it was a 10" lifelike dildo he probably wouldn't have been as eager to try it on me. Whatever. It's little, it's cute and it feels really good.

Did it make me want to have sex more often? No. But it did spice things up a bit and that's always nice.


Disclosure blah blah blah: I was given a We-Vibe in exchange for a review-type-thing. So there you go.

What would you do to save a few bucks on Christmas presents?

If the answer is "stand in line for hours and then push other people to get toys and act like a fucking asshole" then I have nothing to say to you.

Except that I did it too.

Toys R Us opened at 10pm and by the time we got there at 10:30pm the line was insanely long but manageable. It was, however, pure hell when we finally got inside. The line to check out was so long that it went right through the aisles making it nearly impossible to even walk without bumping into anyone. The employees are TRU were just as confused about the logistics as the customers were. No one knew where the line ended and when an employee tried to designate an end point and re-route the line some customers got very upset. I was carrying Avery while Jacob led the way and after ten minutes of discovering that everything that we came for was already gone we decided to get the fuck out of there.

And then we headed to Walmart.

It wasn't as crazy and terrifying as TRU but some people got into a fight. I mean, REALLY? Get a life you fucking idiots. We didn't find anything at Walmart either but instead of leaving empty handed we raided whatever was left of the cheap blu-ray movies and grabbed a few decent titles.

Was it worth dragging my husband and toddler out in the cold at 11pm? Hell no. But now I know that Black Friday is how the rest of the world must see Americans all the time: as stupid and mindless shoppers who will do anything to save a couple of bucks.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. It is my first holiday meal as a vegan and I'm hoping that the sight and smell of the turkey doesn't make me sick.

FRIENDS! WRITERS! WHATEVER! LISTEN UP!

A couple of months ago I mentioned that I was putting together a collaborative blog and guess what? I actually made one! This is where you come in! I need some rad bloggers to join me. If you are a humor blogger (or you at least think that you're sort of funny) and want to contribute to the blog on a regular basis (two-to-three times per month) now is your time to speak up!

Please email the following information to laurenisrocknroll [at] hotmail [dot] com:

Name: (this will be public so send me only what you want to appear on the internets)
Blog name: (including url)
Twitter handle:
Email address: (I need your Google/Blogger linked email address. This will not be public.)
Short bio: (no more than two paragraphs)
Photo of yourself: (Unless you plan on writing anonymously. If that is the case then I will choose a random photo of a narwhal or something)

I will be launching the blog on December 15th. If you join the team I will expect at least one post from you by the 13th. Also, be mindful of your grammar, punctuation and spelling. I will edit your posts for those items (not content or censorship, I promise) but do your best to make them PERFECT GODDAMMIT before it gets to me.

Once you are a part of the team I will let you know the name of the blog and give you a cool little badge that you can put on your own personal blog.

If you have already shown interest in participating that is GREAT but go ahead and email me the information I have requested above because let's face it, I don't remember.

ONE LAST THING: the blog will have advertisements on it. I am paying for the domain and whatever other costs I might incur so the ads will barely cover that. If at all. So there you have it. If you hate the idea of the ads then don't join us. But I promise they aren't intrusive at all.

So there you go. JOIN ME!

I have gastroenteritis. After throwing up for almost twelve hours I went to the doctor to find out what the fuck was wrong with me.

I don't have the energy to do much at the moment including being a good writer. It is so not happening today.

I'm employed, y'all.

I work part time at a popular clothing store that rhymes with cold gravy.

Is it my dream job? Fuck no, dudes. Today was my first day and it was not stimulating at all. I didn't expect it to be challenging but I mindlessly straightened shelves and racks of clothing for six hours. Folding, hanging, folding, hanging, folding, hanging. And so on.

It'll help pay the bills. That's all that matters.

So yeah. Hooray for working retail during the holiday season! Isn't life AWESOME!?

This is a really stupid and narcissistic blog post. And I don't care.

Since I have to get a job I decided that I would make myself look like a normal person (who wants to be normal? Not me.) and dye my hair to get rid of the pink. That's right. I no longer have hot pink hair.

And I'm grieving.

I miss it. It had become a part of my identity and now? It's gone. Does that mean that my personality is gone too? Am I no longer the zany individual I once was? Am I a shell?

Fuck no. I'm a hot blonde!


So what if I had to ditch the pink? I can always dye it back if I find a job that allows it. But for now I'll be blonde. I kind of totally rock it anyway.

We are broke.

But we are not broken.

Actually, we are kind of broken. That expression, that cliche, that WHATEVER is fucking stupid. Obviously if you have no money something is broken. Your brain, perhaps?

The job hunt drudges along. I haven't gotten a single call to schedule an interview. I have, however, received a handful of automated rejection emails.

Those fill me with the warm fuzzies.

Christmas is going to blow this year. I wanted to buy Avery this rad play kitchen but it isn't going to happen. Maybe she will get it for her birthday. This year? She'll get diapers and socks. Isn't that what all kids dream of opening up on Christmas morning?

So yeah. We need money. And now I'm done talking about this.

I don't usually blog the meme du jour but this one is kind of cute so I thought I'd join in. So here it is, a letter to my sixteen-year-old self:


Hey Lauren,

You are rad. I know that you feel bad about yourself sometimes but trust me- you are awesome. Your personality is magnetic and you have friends even though you don't always feel like anyone 'gets' you.

I'm sorry that the guy you have a crush on doesn't reciprocate. He will end up marrying his only girlfriend. Yeah, you know her and don't care for her but it is what it is. Let it go. Also? They both get fat. You're welcome.

Your love for music will remain white hot but as you get older meeting the bands won't become so important to you. But you DO get to meet the lead singer of your favorite band although they aren't your favorite yet.

I know that you're frustrated about being the only one of your friends who hasn't been kissed. Fret not. You not only catch up but you kind of go crazy. Maybe you should pace yourself. You don't have to sleep with everyone. Trust me on this.

High school is fun, right? Unfortunately the real world is just around the corner and it is ROUGH. You are emotionally abandoned by everyone you love and left to fend for yourself. You are stronger than you think you are. Also? Don't stop taking your Effexor.

Believe it or not you get married and even HAVE A BABY! Two things you swore you'd never do. That's what happens when you fall in love. Oh, and speaking of love, the first guy you fall in love with is NOT THE ONE. In fact, you left him break your heart repeatedly over the years. Don't let him do it! Maybe just once. Everyone needs to experience heartbreak. But trust me, you could do without being tortured.

Back to THE ONE. He's tall and geeky and you will meet him while living in a different state. Yeah, you move out of Texas for awhile and it's the best move you've ever made (at least, up until this point). Also? It's love pretty much at first sight. You have always been quick to make decisions but in this case it is totally the right one.

Love,

You. Er, Me. Us.

I have to get a full time job.

There. I said it. But let's be honest here. NO! YES! FINE. You win. I want a job too. I'm not saying that I'm looking for my next career because obviously I'm a wicked talented writer and it's high time someone paid for me for my craft but that isn't going to happen any time soon so until then? Yep, a regular ol' job will have to suffice.

What am I looking for, you ask? (oh, by the way, you did ask. Don't you remember?) I have oodles of retail experience which is RAD except that I fucking hate retail. Working a cash register and putting up with customers treating me like shit? No thanks. And now that I also have management experience (two years, what what!) there is no way in hell I'm going back to the bottom. I'm a leader, goddammit. I LEAD. I'm also bossy and like things to be done MY way so I don't do well at the bottom.

HOWEVER! Not only am I applying for retail management positions but I'm branching out! I would love to work in a more technical position. My husband's career is in tech support and he's fucking brilliant but hey, I could do it too! Step one: If your computer plugged in? See? I would nail that shit.

I have also applied for call center positions and more customer-centric but NOT customer-facing positions. I even applied for two positions with my former company but they are in completely different sectors from where I worked before. I would NEVER go back to the same type of work I was doing for them even though it is where I gained my experience. I hated it there and I have my boss' boss to blame for that. Micromanaging bitch.

ANYWAY. I have received a few polite rejection emails and filed them away in the fuck you folder in my inbox. There are a few companies that I'm really interested in but I'm trying to not get my hopes up. I worry about the salary requirement that most employers seem to be asking for because I don't want to put down a number that is outrageously high and I don't want to low-ball it either because then they might not think that I deserve more because I am not right for the position.

Looking for a job sucks. I guess that's the point of this post. I haven't even had an interview yet but maybe next week I'll start getting calls.

I am leery about putting Avery's life in someone else's hands but that's another post for another day.

So yeah. Job hunting, woo hoo!

I love snacking.

I don't do it throughout the day; I save it for after dinner. After everyone else is asleep I nuke a can of soup or make a (vegan) cheese quesadilla. I'll eat cookies or ice cream or leftovers from dinner. And I won't stop.

Lately I have been feeling very jiggly. I am already fat and recently I have gained more weight. Not much more certainly enough to piss me off. And if I want to get healthy I better get my shit together.

Ugh. I always say that.

But you know what? I mean it this time. I HAVE to do this.

It's the end of day one and I think I did alright but I could have made even better choices. I'm working on it.

Finally!

I said, "I love you, Avery." And she said, "I loooooove you mommy!"

I have nothing more to say about this except that I can't stop smiling and I may have cried.

I need to talk to you about SPAM.

Not the emails that never fucking get filtered into the junk folder but SPAM. Meat in a can. Most omnivores won't even touch the shit so you must imagine how a vegan feels about it.

I think it's made mostly from pork. I don't know. Who the hell cares.

The point is that it's GROSS. And if you like SPAM then stop reading this post because I'm not interested in your positive feelings towards SPAM or meat in general.

Jacob, my dear husband, hasn't eaten SPAM in a long time. Years. He does this out of respect for me and because I won't fucking buy it for him. For our Halloween potluck this year he decided that among all of the vegan dishes that would be present (my step-sister is vegetarian and my dad and step-mom are cutting out animals for health reasons) he would bring a dish that the meat eaters would enjoy- macaroni and cheese with, you guessed it, SPAM.

He cooked it himself and shared it with the family on Halloween. No big deal. I ate my vegan chili and cupcakes and drank my beer.

And then the leftover mac 'n cheese 'n SPAM abomination came back home with us.

Fine. He will eat the rest (hopefully quickly) and it will be out of our lives.

After dinner he was still hungry (I'm not sure how that's possible but whatever) or bored or whatever so he decided to warm up the rest of the mac 'n cheese 'n SPAM for a snack. The smell overpowered the house and to add insult to injury he sat next to me on the sofa and ate it. I tried to not be an asshole while he ate it but the aroma of the cooked rubbery meat was giving me a headache.

AND AND AND once he finished his "food" he put the dishes in the sink. Probably. Whatever. I asked him to wash out the dishes because the smell was making me sick. So he filled the pot the mess was cooked in and the bowl he ate it in with water. He said that he put dish soap in it too but I didn't check.

That isn't washing the dishes is it, Jacob?

I love my husband and appreciate him for understanding my disdain for meat but COME ON! Hours later the smell lingers in the air. It's nauseating.

Okay. I'll get off of my high horse. But I still want to throw up.

Happy November, fuckers!

I have big(ish) plans for this month in regards to the ol' blog and writing and blah blah blah. I will not be participating in NaNoWriMo this year but I didn't do it last year either so the hell cares? Maybe I will do my own write-a-thon soon.

I will be posting EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. this month and hopefully it will be decent content and not memes and other shit that makes me want to throw the internet across the room. I am tempted to do the thirty day meme that everyone else in the blogosphere has been doing but I will only use it as a jumping off point if I actually use it at all.

Just so you know, if you write a post that is part of a meme there is a 90% chance that I won't even read the entire thing. It isn't you. Actually, it kind of is. It's the same reason why I don't leave comments on Wordless Wednesday posts.

ANYWAY.

By the end of November I am hoping to have my new collaborative blog ready for a December first launch. I'm stoked. No, really. It's going to ROCK YOUR FACE OFF.

ALSO ALSO ALSO! I am the newest staff writer for Room 704! I have been promoted from guest writer to staff and I'm stoked. No, it isn't a paying gig (sorry Jacob, I am looking for freelance work too!) but it will give me another outlet for my asinine drivel AND they let me curse. Everybody wins.

Let's see.... what else..... I think that's it. So you will be getting content every day this month from your ol' pal Lauren. When you're sitting around the dinner table on Thanksgiving day THAT is what you'll be thankful for. You're welcome.