Blogiversary Day Two Post DONE. Now Off To Watch The Glee Project And Love In The Wild. I Have Very Bad Taste In Television.


It's day two of Blogiversary Week, which means another post!  Yes I realize it is like seven pm and almost day three as I am writing this but I couldn't do it any earlier as I had to attend a work conference on the subject of New Tax Laws all day.

Was terrible.

::shudder::


And to make things worse one of the men running this conference was the guy that turned a five hour meeting into a nine hour meeting in January.  When I walked in and saw him it took every fiber of my being not to turn around and walk out and then call my boss and tell him I couldn't attend the conference because I had broken my spleen or something.

Two hours into the conference, while I was listening to someone wax poetic about straight-line depreciation, I realized that my boss had sent me to this conference in his place and that he probably did it because he knew who was speaking.  So I sent him a text.

In exchange for the horrible thing you have done to me this day, I am now allowed to use the word monkey all the days of the week again and wear my flippie floppies in the office.


(Remember when he told me I could only use the word monkey on Fridays?)


His response contained only one word.

Deal.


So yeah he totally did it on purpose.  I forgave him though because lunch was really good.  I ate twelve to fourteen small balls of fresh mozzarella cheese and a rice krispie treat that was the size of a brick and my have been two rice kris pie treats stuck together in retrospect.
So yeah, that's why I couldn't post until now.

Today I am going to tell you a story about this girl.

Thanks Mom for telling me my eyebrows looked "about the same size" after you plucked them for me the night before pictures in seventh grade.  They were not the same size AT ALL.

Lauren: The Pirate Year


Growing up, I played softball.  I played A LOT of softball.  I was always on a community team as well as a traveling All-Stars team.  I loved it.  Until seventh grade.

It was a beautiful really sunny spring day and I had all-star practice.  The practice was being held at the local high school which is really close to my parents' house, so I strapped on my roller blades, grabbed my bat bag and portable cd player and hit the road, the soothing tones of Green Day in my ears.

This practice started out like any normal practice.  We were rotating positions and letting each girl have batting practice.  I got to short stop just as the very best player on the team stepped up to the base. Did I mention it was a really sunny day?  I heard the crack of the bat then someone yell "Catch It!" and then I was on the ground surrounded by my coach and all of my teammates.

I had gotten hit in the face with the ball.  I had gotten knocked out.  My coach took one look at my face, swore, then scooped me up and ran me to his car.

He drove me home.  My dad opened the front door and took one look at my face and swore.

He made me lay on the couch and for some reason put a brown bag full of sliced potatoes on my face.  This still confuses me.  Why not ice Dad?

He called the hair salon where my mom was with my sister and told her to come home immediately.

She did.

She took one look at my face and swore.

We rushed off to Urgent Care where it turned out I had luckily not broken any face bones or exploded any eyeballs.  I did have, however, the worst black eye that the doctor had ever seen.  He was astounded that nothing had cracked in half.

When we got home I looked in a mirror for the first time.  I had one massively black eye and cheek and nose.  That eye was completely swollen shut and as it turns out, would stay like that for almost four weeks.  The other eye was also massively black, but was still doing the seeing thing ok.

Seventh grade had not yet ended so early the next week I was off to school.  Wearing a black eyepatch.  For one day everyone was all concerned and nice to me.  Then the pirate jokes started.

My favorite may have been:

What do pimps and pirates have in common?

They both say "Yo Ho" and walk with a limp.

Or

What is a pirate's worst fear?

A sunken chest with no booty.

I also just got a lot of

Aaarrrrggh Mateys and Shiver Me Timbers

The pirate jokes were fine though, I played along.

The worst was when I finally got to take the eyepatch off because my eye had healed enough for me to be able to open it except.....I couldn't.

Well I could.  If I thought about it.  But I had just spent four weeks with one of my eyes permanently closed and my brain had decided that closed was that eye's default position.

And I usually didn't even notice it.

My mom was constantly like "You are walking around this grocery store with one eye closed again Lauren."

And one of my best friends started calling me 'Ol One Eye.

It took a LONG time before I learned to keep both my eyes open when I was not sleeping.

It was a very awkward summer.  Which was not even a little bit fair, because I was plenty awkward to begin with already.

Like seriously?  This girl does not need an eyepatch.  Give it to one of the pretty popular girls. 
Like this one maybe?

My sister and I were not great friends growing up.  I wonder why.
Here's a picture of 'Ol One Eye (before the accident) and the friend she had to thank for that adorable moniker.

Yep we are the same age.  Lauren didn't like makeup, she liked books.  Which also explains the pasty skin.


That's all for today (sorry it wasn't that funny!) but I'll hit you up again tomorrow!  Tomorrow is very exciting too because....

OJ is coming to town!!!
My husband is entirely too excited.





19 comments:

  1. I think we can forgive the unfunniness (not a word) of this post, since it ended with a picture of O.J. Also, not to mock your injury but this post was actually a little bit funny. The part about everyone swearing made me giggle a bit. And the part about your mom having to remind you not to walk around the grocery store with one eye closed also a bit amusing. Sorry about the injury, though. I actually was afraid of the ball when I played softball. So, my mom and dad took me out in the yard to play catch and work through it. My mom promptly took a ball to the nose and started gushing blood. For some reason, this did not help my fear.

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  2. You are too adorable! I think you're more "adorkable" than Zooey Deschanel. Serious. *nods solemnly*

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  3. sarah h6/19/2012

    The text message to your boss made me spit cheese out of my mouth (now 2 dogs won't get out of my face). Also, I'm super sorry for laughing at your eyebrows.
    I feel your pain with the eyepatch. I had a lazy eye and had to wear one for the whole summer one year. And I didn't even get any cool pirate stories out of the whole humiliating ordeal.
    And finally.... OJ is so bendy.
    p.s. why is there always a little () after my name? bothersome. (totally rhetorical question by the way)

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    1. sarah h6/19/2012

      Okay, so the little () doesn't show up when the comment posts but I SEE IT, I REALLY DO.

      Delete
    2. I see it too. :)

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    3. sarah h6/19/2012

      Oh thank god!!!

      Delete
  4. Not Funny?? are you kidding? "Ol One Eye"... comedic gold!! I sympathize, I too, took a softball to the face whilst playing shortstop. I was a bit older at the time. A few days later I was out late driving home from the bar, er Library. I got pulled over and the police officer took one look at my face and said "holy shit what happened?" I told him it was a softball accident. His look back to me told me he thought I was full of crap and was the victim of domestic abuse. My cheek was swollen and bruised for about two weeks. Luckily I did not have wear a patch or retrain my eye to stay open. :)

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  5. PS: my daughter is just finishing her 6th grade year and has NO desire for makeup or dressing up. I am totally ok with that, because once she does we won't be able to keep the boys from breaking down the door..

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  6. Shannon S.6/19/2012

    1. You were just as adorable in 7th grade as you are now. I, too, have an extremely young-looking face. Seriously, I just got carded at an R-rated movie on Sunday. What's my point, you ask? Someday we will be grateful for our baby faces. You can ask my mom, who frequently gets asked if she had me at "a very young age" (meanwhile she was 32 when I was born).

    B. The cheerleader pictured is your sister Jordan, right? Every Jordan I know (including my freshman year college roommate) was a cheerleader. Must be the name!

    3. At least you can say you're athletic. I barely have enough coordination to walk let alone play some kind of sport. Except Wii Bowling. I *rock* at Wii Bowling.

    D. Did you miss the Bloggess's first virtual book club meeting? Methinks you did!

    5. There is no number 5.

    Happy (early) Blogiversary!

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  7. When I was in kindergarten, I was sitting on the top row of the bleachers at my brother's baseball game, when someone hit a foul ball, hit me in the mouth and knocked me backwards off the bleachers. I'm sure there was swearing involved. It turned out I was okay, except that I was emotionally scarred for the rest of my life. Thanks a lot baseball.

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  8. see, this is why i hated playing sports. i hated P.E. cause I never wanted to play any of the games, i wanted to sit out and read my book! Also, once while standing in line to go back to the classroom after P.E., the kid in front of me managed to whack me in the head with the bat!

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  9. I played a lot of softball too, in high school, before I got super sick and missed a bunch of school I was the awesomest catcher EVER! I mean EVER! I have the hugely athletic calves to prove it! A base runner broke my foot once when she ran into home plate and collided with me, she pushed me back toawrds the fence and my foot got smashed through the fence! It hurt really bad, but I played through the pain, I was dedicated. When the game was over, we lost, I had a friend that said, "take off your shoe." So I did and then regrettly it fucking immediately, because my foot was so swollen that my show wouldn't go back on. Then the coach said,"Holy moly cankles!" and rushed me to the ER where they proceeded to ask me a bazillion times what I did to my foot.

    It was broken in 5 places! My husband, boyfriend at the time, kept telling me that I was being a baby and that nothing was broken until the doctor came in and said yep, it's broken. I couldn't make him eat crow since we were in the ER, but I did try to make him eat gauze.

    Thanks for the OJ picture! My OJ addiction has been satisfied for today.

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  10. I can't believe that the one thing you left out was a pirate picture. I'm sure there are some. I shuddered thinking of how hard that ball must have hit you if it took that long to heal. Woah.

    Also - your texts to your boss are le awesome. My last text to my boss was:
    me: I saw the doctor. I have pneumonia and doc says I can't work until next Monday. I'll email you the note.
    her: thx

    ^ can you maybe let out a tiny shred of sympathy

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  11. Susan W6/20/2012

    When I was a sophomore in college, I was hit in the eye be a baseball thrown for pitching practice. I wasn't play, I was merely standing with a group of friend chatting when BAM! I saw stars. I dropped my head to my hands to let the ringing stop and when I looked up, campus security and the director of student life were staring at me in horror. My BFF was instructed to drive her car across the lawn to load me up and take me to the emergency room. Apparently when you walk into an emergency room with facial trauma, they get you a room quite quickly. The police officer there questioned my friend about who had hit me and had the police been called.

    Long (and weird) story short, I ended up with multiple fractures to the floor of my orbit (yay for a broken eye bone!) and nerve damage that left the bottom right quadrant of my face completely numb for about six months. My oh so loving BFF, Shana, would randomly poke me, usually in public, in the cheek/lip to see if I could feel it.

    I had the BEST black eye for like 3 months and eventually got used to the gasps of horror when I would walk into the cafeteria on campus.

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  12. Yikes. Luckily, I made it through 8 years of soccer without any hilarious injuries (the injury I DID get has absolutely zero funny stories attached - so lame). But my major emergency-style childhood injury was in the sport of sliding, because sliding is a sport in preschool. To this day, I get unreasonably wary/bitter when seeing those giant, plastic, yellow twisty slides on playgrounds because 2 of the popular girls (how are there already pecking orders in preschool? I was never destined to be cool) decided it would be a great idea to roll a big plastic barrel up to the bottom of the slide sometime between when the girl in front of me took her turn and when I went - and I ended up sliding right into the barrel, flipping over it, and landing with my arm backward. The 2 popular girls decided it would be better to drag a crying, screaming Kait to the teacher by said backward-arm rather than bring her to me, which just made the break worse. The point of this story is how my priorities worked (and still do, probably): while sniffling in the car as my dad drove me to the hospital with a broken arm, I was mostly crying because it was Katie Nixon's birthday and I didn't get my cupcake and can we please go back and get my cupcake because they had sprinkles please please please.

    Childhood injuries are the best.

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    Replies
    1. PS. Is OJ in La Jolla in that picture? I swear I recognize those grassy areas/cliffs/sideways trees.

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  13. I don't have anything to say about the eye patch, but I hope you keep a tally at your desk of how many times you use Monkey each week. I'll totally send you a notepad for just this purpose if it would help.

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  14. Hilarious. Oh my goodness, tears in my eyes and a stitch in my side from reading that. I love the pirate jokes.

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  15. Ugh! You poor thing. I was never into sports but I did go to the University Libaries with my mom when I was little. Apparently one day I decided I was blind so I began walking around with my eyes closed and ran into a corner wall. I had a MASSIVE bruise.

    Love your blog!

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