Pinky and The Brain

Hello Blogstalkers. Long time no nonsense. I miss you all.

And because I miss you, especially late at night when I'm tired and emotional and rocking my baby, I've started to write tiny posts and think about posting them. Now due to the fact that I write these posts in the middle of the night, I usually wake up and read them and realize they're absolutely gibberish. (I especially enjoy the parts where I write LOLOLOL like I know even as I'm writing that none of this will be funny in the morning and so I've got to notate the parts where I'm supposed to laugh.)

But all of this is just to say, I've actually decided to publish one of these posts today. Because it's Christmas and if you can't say what you like at Christmas, then when can you?

So without further ado and with admittedly a bit too much opening aplomb, because I'm a wordy little thing, here it is. I apologize in advance for the nonsense and/or gibberish. 

Every year since the beginning of Ryan and Me, Ryan and I go to The Walnut Room at Macy's for a Christmas lunch. The food isn't particularly great (they boast that they've had the same pot pie on the menu since opening in 1907) and it's crowded and you usually leave covered in glitter from the fairies that make the rounds sprinkling dust on your head so that your Christmas wish will come true, but it's a tradition. And I sort of love it. And now Fiona sort of loves it. So we go. 

All of that actually has zero to do with the actual topic of this except to say, we were in the car on the way to lunch....I did warn you of the aplomb bomb that I was about to drop. (In case any of you were worried that I wasn't still gangster, I think that previous sentence will set your minds at ease, yo.)

So anyway, we were in the car.  And we were chatting about something or other and I said something brilliant. I can't quite remember what it was but I assure you it was brilliant because Ryan gave me that sideways glance he's so perfected for times when I say brilliant things. And then I got lost on a tangent. 

"That was absolutely brilliant. Lyrical in fact," my brain thought. "It should be a song." Then my mouth sang it out loud a bit. And Ryan was like, "I heard you the first time, and I've told you before that singing something at me doesn't increase its brilliance."

And I thought. Huh.

And then I thought this:

It's like my brain is always trying to be a songwriter but my mouth keeps mucking it up. Like...I write some gorgeous lyrics and then am all, this is basically genius. 

But then my tuneless mouth gets ahold of them and makes my brain question everything. And my brain is all...maybe those lyrics weren't basically genius Adele-caliber ideas after all. And my mouth mutters "Well you won't hear me say I told you so!"

At this point my brain is annoyed because my mouth is always smarting off and smarting is something a brain should do, not a mouth. So my brain is all ...or maybe you should just keep your flappers shut from time to time... And my mouth is all,"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"And Ryan is like, "What!? I didn't say anything! I was actually thinking it was nice you were being so calm and quiet in the car for once."

And I am like,"Still waters run deep, RYAN."And then my brain is all Oooh those are basically genius song lyrics. with me here mouth. But my mouth is done paying my brain lip service (don't tell me what to say) and instead decides silently and with lots of thoughtful lip chewing to pair up with my butt instead. Which turns out to be a mistake because my butt is distracted by the seat warmer and just keeps singing Hot Bottoms! to the tune of the Hot Pockets jingle. And then my mouth is annoyed because singing is something a mouth should do, not a butt. 

So my mouth is all, "I'm never teaming up with you again, BUTT!" And Ryan is like, "I haven't done anything to deserve this!"

And my brain is like, that's the farthest thing from an Adele lyric I've ever heard. In response to which my mouth shouts, "Stop comparing yourself to Adele!" And Ryan is like, "I've literally never done that!"

Then we've arrived to lunch and Ryan's sister, who is meeting us asks, "How was the car ride?"  And Ryan say, "Confusing, as always."

And that is that.

Have a Happy Holiday Blogstalkers!

Just, Thank You.

Hey Blogstalkers,

Recently I decided to rededicate myself to this blog.  To post more often, to reformat and reconnect and be the blogger I was long ago before pregnancy and baby and turning 30 and all the changes that came with those changes, changed my world.

But the thing is, my world is changed.  So how can my blog stay the same?

This is something I've been struggling with quite a bit recently.  I hoped throwing myself back into the blog headfirst would reignite my enthusiasm for this endeavor and then I'd traipse gaily along, throwing out ridiculous stories and quirky ditties like flower petals.

I forced myself to sit down and write.  And sometimes I did like what came out.  And sometimes I did not.  Which was fine, I don't think any blogger really loves every word that they write.  But it wasn't about just disliking bits of what I was doing suddenly, it was that I started to feel I was actually being unfaithful to my life.  As much as it would be great for me to still be that prattling, scattered, giggling twist of a girl, I'm just not her any longer.

I'm ridiculous still, sure.  But mostly, I'm serious and focused and intent on creating the very best life I can for my family.  And my blog has started to feel very at odds with that idea.

And now? Negative comments and emails?  They hurt so very much more.  Before, they stung and I'd tear up a little but Ryan would give me a hug and then make jokes out of those comments until they felt unimportant and we'd go on our merry way.  Now, if I'm being insulted or degraded, (and I am A LOT, behind the scenes) it feels like it's not just me that is getting libeled.  It's my family.  It's my daughter.  Because that is what my life is now.  It's not just me any longer.  It's them.  It's us.  

I like to think I am a nice person.  At least I try to be a nice person.  I'm a huge believer in karma and I really attempt do good in all things.  And I love my family hugely and fiercely.  So now that I'm getting this horrible punched-in-the-gut feeling when I'm attacked by internet thugs, I'm rethinking this entire adventure.

And it has been an adventure.  A wonderful, down-the-rabbit-hole, lake-of-shining-waters adventure. I've loved just about every minute of it.  I'm just not loving it right now.  So I really don't know what to do.

There's an age-old adage that comes to mind here, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the fire."  And at this moment, I can not stand the heat.  So I'm climbing out of the fire.  For now.

I don't know if I'll be back so I'm not expecting or asking you to stick around this time.  I realize I've left before and never come back quite as good as I was in my heyday.  You've all been more lovely and loyal than I could ever expect already.  You've forgiven my flaky-blogger ways and provided an astounding and breathtaking amount of support.  You've given me a community and I'll never ever ever forget that.

If I do take up the blogging pen again, it's going to look a little bit different.  Because my life is just not like it was a year ago.  Yes it's still silly.  It's still random and clumsy and full of laughter.  But now it's also heart-thumping and intense.  It feels more important now.  Now it's something to protect.

I'd love to write about my real life sometime.  About all of it.  Not just the funny parts. (Though there will always be funny parts.)  I wonder if anyone would like to read that.

So, I'll not say goodbye here.  I'll say Cheers to You, and Yours and Theirs.  I wish you all the levity in the world.  Hopefully I'll see you around.

THANK YOU.  I thank you and thank you and thank you.

And RYAN.  And Fiona.  (And OJ.)

P.S. I'm happy to answer any and all questions and comments for the next couple of days.  Then I'll probably close comments.  I'm also happy to respond to any emails or FB messages.  (

Keeping It Reality

Greetings earthlings  Blogstalkers.

Recently Ryan turned to me when we were sitting on the couch late at night (730 PM) and said, "You know, I've been thinking..."  At first I was all "Oh GREAT" because a lot of times when Ryan says that it means "I've been thinking that we could get fake pumpkins instead of real ones this year." or "I've been thinking that you should maybe bring the winter coats up from the basement instead of just wrapping a comforter around yourself to go get coffee in the morning."**

**Which is just ridiculous because my regular coats don't cover my pants-area and sometimes I don't feel like putting on real pants at pre-dawn in the morning before I've had coffee.  Plus then since I'm only wearing hideous sleep shorts and a blanket I'm much more cautious in my driving, so that I don't get pulled over by any police officers and then judged.  So basically that comforter is making the roads safer for everyone.

So usually when Ryan starts the "I've been thinking" nonsense I attempt to head him off at the pass.  I'll be like, "Well then stop, you know it's not becoming when a lady thinks too much." or "That the title of your autobiography should be "When I Was A Young Warthog"?"

And then he'll drop whatever he's going to say and instead say "Aaaaagh" and everything goes on as usual - Ryan is disgruntled and I am not berated for having what Ryan thinks are "too many kinds of lotion under the sink in our bathroom" and then getting yelled at because "this one isn't even lotion, it's frosting."

But this time I was not quick enough on my feet to come up with a witty response and so I had to listen to whatever nonsense Ryan was about to spout.  "...I've been thinking, about how your doctor always tells you that you should have a reality tv show?"**

**This is a true story, my doctor does tell me this from time to time.  I have no idea why.  Although she hasn't mentioned it recently because last time I was like, "Yes!  And then you could watch it very closely and after each episode we could have telephone conversations about if you noticed any new suspicious moles!"  And she was all, "Are you planning on being in your bathing suit a lot or something?" And Ryan was like, "No, haven't you heard? She doesn't wear pants while driving any longer."

"Well I don't think it would work."

"Why ever not, Mr. TV Producer?"

"So much of what you'd do defies explanation.  No one would understand what was going on.  Also, half of the things you say are just lyrics to The Thong Song."

I was going to argue with that but I then I remembered about how when I had been making dinner earlier that night and Ryan said, "What's for dinner" I *might* have responded "Ryan you're in luck, luck luck, Chicken thighs like what what what, All night long.  Please hand me those Tooonnnnngs."  And he was like, "What?"  And I was all *pointing* "Those tongs tongs tongs tongs tongs."

So, I started thinking, Ryan might actually be right about this one.

For example, I spent 20 minutes on the phone this morning explaining to customer service at a t-shirt place that I had not in fact misspelled the word "Morning" and really did want the shirt I had ordered to say "Top of the Lauren to You."  And also that yes, I did like the placement of the lamb on the other t-shirt.  I did understand that it was not centered.  It's that high because I want it to be over my chest.  Like a rack of lamb, get it?  Also I assure you that the pants with the pig directly on the butt are also correct.  Right.  Yes.  Pork butt.  It's a long story but basically my husband said I had to get some new driving clothes.  I know!  Driving Clothes!  It's not like I'm a 19th century dandy, RYAN.  Yes, Ryan is my husband's name.

And then I spent 20 minutes on the phone with Ryan (the baby was napping) because I had accidentally melted some of her baby spoons in the dishwasher and I was freaking out about the fumes.  And I was all, "I called my mom and she said she melted my baby stuff from time to time on accident and never "got a new dishwasher" so I should be fine.  And then I comforted myself thinking that maybe I'm only being crazy about the fumes because my brain was turned crazy by the fumes at my mom's house when I was a child, so really I shouldn't worry.  But then I was like,  WAIT! That means I should worry because the fumes could turn Fiona's brain crazy too!  And then I got stuck in a loop.  And now I'm really tired.  It's probably the fumes."

Also Ryan reminded me of the small tiff we'd had coming back from a recent wedding when I said that the volume control in his car is THE WORST.  Because one level is too soft, two levels up from that is too loud and the level in the middle is "serial killer volume".  And then went on to explain to his gaping mouth that 'serial killer volume' is the level of volume at which when you imagine a murderer in your backseat saying "Hello Lauren" over the music, it makes you uncontrollably shudder.  He was all, "It was like the most bullshit Goldilocks story ever in that car."  

And then I was like, "Is the new title of your autobiography?"

And he left me alone.

But yeah, I should probably never have a reality tv show.  Point to Ryan I guess.  

So tell me Blogstalkers, what behavior do you engage in that could never be explained away if you were to get your own reality tv show?

Also, picture of my baby.  She was 9 months old yesterday.  WHAT.

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