Thursday, September 24, 2009

I haven't been very good about posting

No worries. I'm sure when I'm in Korea I will have all kinds of stuff to post. Wait. Have I mentioned I'm going to Korea? I have really been slacking. I leave Oct. 6th.

But tomorrow... I leave for a weekend in California. I have never been to California. I thought about it the other day and I have only been to three places in the US by plane: Dallas, Houston, and Vegas.

I'll be adding San Jose to the list shortly. Our flight leaves at 6 in the morning. We get to San Jose at 10 and then we drive to Monterey Bay. Apparently, the drive boasts sea otters and giant redwoods. Saturday we are going on a behind the scenes tour of the Monterey Bay Aquarium and in the evening a sunset sail with wine and light snacks. We are also going to the Monterey Bay Museum, I have no idea what they have there.

This Holiday season I will be going to New Zealand. Auckland. Damn I'm excited. I got a bad case of the wanderlust.

Friday, September 18, 2009

I'm excited

about leaving. I'm going to miss most everybody in Austin, but I really want to get away. Far, far away, and I'm going to.

The end.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


Lauren is lonely.

The end.

Quick edit: Especially when drinking.

Friday, September 11, 2009

What the fuck?

I'm pretty sure my life is somebody's cruel joke. That is fine. I've laughed it off for a long time. Thankfully, they build me up just enough to knock me down about 20 pegs, this person that gets a laugh, but it is getting kind of old.

I can't sleep. I can't eat without feeling sick. All I can seem to do is drink. I guess these things are genetic.

The funny thing too, crying doesn't help. God damn. Wouldn't it be great if it did. Think of all the things I could have fixed tonight. I'm talking world peace and shit. Okay. Maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the drift.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Something I find curious...

A few days ago I went to the post office on 6th. As I walked in a man in some khakis and a button up white shirt and white hair walked in to the building right ahead of me. He didn't turn to check if anyone was coming in after him. He just let the door slam in my face. I thought to myself "He must not be from Austin." I dropped a letter off. Checked to see if I could buy stamps without standing in line. I couldn't so I left. I was in the building not 3 minutes and another white haired man in the exact same get-up did the exact same thing. Just waltzed through the door like he was the only person in the whole fucking universe. Who are these men that don't hold the door open when someone else is coming? Did they not have mothers to teach them proper door etiquette?

Jump to a few days later at Biker Bingo. There is not a person in there who doesn't have tons of tattoos. I'm usually the least tattooed. There isn't a person in there who doesn't look really mean. It is probably a safe bet to put your money on a lot of them are carrying some kind of weapon. You know, they have the biker thing going on. Well, let me tell you. They god damn hold the door for people. The say excuse me when they slightly touch you, they say thank you and please. They are all around decent human beings. They say Hi to you even though they don't know your name, but they have seen you a few times. Sometimes you even get a smile.

So, who is supposed to be the deviant in this scenario?

Friday, September 04, 2009

There is no way that just happened.

I got shit on by squirrel. AGAIN.

I'm marked by the turd.

They must know me. They have a running joke. Shit on the girl with tattoos.

I was walking Grubb this morning and I felt something glance off my shoulder from the trees. I thought to myself, That felt eerily similar to... Then I looked up. Not a wise move in retrospect. But there it was a god damned squirrel. It shit a couple more times after that. At least, I think it was the same squirrel. Or they had a platoon out that was full of snipers aiming for my tired, feeble body. At a time when I'm least protected too. What if that turd had gone down my shirt? I had been sleeping in a wife beater and I put on shorts in a hurry because Grubb scratched on the door. That usually means: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY, at 7:30. But it wasn't. Maybe Grubb is in on it too. Scratch that, don't tell him I said that. I actually think they were trying to hit Grubb on that last assault. It did a piss poor job. Why can't the one with shitty (HA!) aim try to shit on me?