i'd say this weekend was a keeper

my how times have changed

Well, here we are at the end of another week.  It has been largely uneventful for me, unless of course you count the fact that Michelle and I went to the drive-thru Dairy Queen at 9:00 tonight because WHY NOT?

I also spent more hours than I care to admit searching for some colored skinny pants for the spring and summer because they are adorable and I do like to jump on a trend.

I have visited countless retail establishments over the last week and tried on every size, style, pattern, and color of skinny pants that exist.  That extensive market research has led me to the following conclusion.  Covering my legs in pastel, neon, and/or primary colored denim is not a good look for me.

And so I will continue to wear my boring, yet practical, plain denim jeans and black pants.

When Michelle and I got home from our Dairy Queen run this evening, we started looking at old pictures of ourselves in honor of throwback Thursday.

And photographic evidence shows that there was indeed a time when I embraced the colored, patterned pant.

Maybe one day these will come back in style.

when it comes to bowling, i couldn't be less competitive

Matt, Emily, and I went bowling last weekend.  I had a pretty good idea of how successful we each would be before we even walked into the bowling alley.

Matt was on the varsity bowling team in high school so I was pretty confident that he would be decent.

I've never been bowling with Emily so she was a bit of a dark horse, but I know she can be surprising.

And me?  Well judging by the fact that when our little trio arrived at the bowling alley, I marched straight up to the man behind the counter and said "three, please," I am clearly a bowling novice.

It was like I momentarily forgot that we were at a bowling alley and not a restaurant.

Luckily Matt was there and was able to explain to the gentleman behind the counter that while there were indeed three of us, we only needed one lane.

After we got that cleared up, we ordered our shoes, picked out our bowling balls, and headed to lane eleven to begin our bowling odyssey. 

I gave Matt my phone for a few minutes and asked him to take some candid photos.  I had visions of photos of me laughing jovially on my way back from a particularly great frame or a celebratory high five with Emily after a strike.  However, when I scrolled those photographic memories just now to download a few for this post, I discovered that instead Matt simply chose to repeatedly capture this particular angle. 

 Hmm.

I guess I reapplied my lip gloss and eye shadow for nothing.

Although there is this framer of Emily and me.

The first three or four frames proceeded with Emily in the lead, Matt in close pursuit, and me bringing up the rear.  I was sitting on the bench during Matt's turn to bowl in frame five when suddenly I heard a voice come over the speaker system and announce "SWEEPDOWN, LANE ELEVEN.  SWEEPDOWN.  LANE ELEVEN."

WE WERE LANE ELEVEN!

AND WE WERE EVIDENTLY SELECTED FOR A SWEEPDOWN!

I COULD NOT BELIEVE OUR GOOD LUCK.

I looked at Emily and Matt and when neither of them showed any signs of excitement that we had just gotten a shout out for a sweepdown OVER THE LOUDSPEAKER, I assumed they just weren't listening.  So I excitedly asked Matt, "Did you hear that?!! We're getting a sweepdown!! Do you know what a sweepdown in bowling is?"

And then we went through a ritual that I know by heart because it happens on an extremely regular basis.  

That ritual typically features me repeating whatever excited, enthusiastic statement I just made, and then Matt looking at me quizzically for a few moments while he determines where the heck I'm coming from and formulates an appropriate response. 

After a few seconds of thought he said, "Laura, a sweepdown isn't an EVENT.  The piece of equipment that re-racks the pins is called a sweep.  And ours is down."

And sure enough, with one quick glance down our lane, I saw that our sweep was indeed stuck.

TALK ABOUT TAKING THE WIND OUT OF MY SAILS.

Here I had thought we won some fantastic bowling alley prize, and the reality was that we were just the unlucky patrons of a lane with some malfunctioning equipment.

A few minutes later our sweep was fixed and things literally got rolling once again.

And the game proceeded in much the same matter in which it began, and by that I mean Emily crushed us, Matt held steady to second place, and I finished in third.  

I can't say that Matt was thrilled, but Emily sure was.

I can't wait to go again.  

And I'm kind of crossing my fingers for another sweepdown, because what's a game of bowling without a little drama?

never let it be said i don't know how to show my guests a good time

On Saturday afternoon I drove to my parents' house, as per my weekly custom, to talk and attempt to score any yummy leftovers that they may be trying to get rid of.  My mom mentioned that she and my dad were going to the spring fling at church that night, and that my sister wasn't joining them because apparently 17 is the age when you are officially TOO COOL for the church spring fling.   

When I heard Emily had a free night, I asked her if she wanted to go bowling with me and then sleep over at my apartment.  Obviously she was ALL IN.  The whole bowling event will be a separate post because if I write about it now this post will transform into a novella but oh, it was entertaining.

On our way to my apartment Emily and I stopped at Target.  I asked Emily to go get me a box of Cheez-Its while I picked up a few other things, namely laundry detergent and drain cleaner because MY LIFE IS VERY GLAMOROUS.  I got sidetracked in the nail polish aisle as usual and when I found Emily ten minutes later, she was wandering in the soup aisle, empty handed and looking totally confused. 

When she saw me she said, "...Heyyyyy...soooooo...I can't find the Cheez-It's..."  

I will admit that I am a very seasoned Target shopper, but Emily just scored into a VERY IMPRESSIVE percentile of the critical reading section of the SATs, and was standing two aisles away from a big red sign that said CRACKERS.

I may or may not have made a comment regarding her SAT scores and their implementation into reality, but she got me back on our way to the car.  She mentioned how boring her life is going to be when the school play is over and she doesn't have rehearsals anymore.

"Boring is okay sometimes, Em.  Think of it as simplicity.  Look at me.  I don't have an exceptionally thrilling life, but I'm always happy."

Words of wisdom. 

Or so I thought, until Emily said, "I guess, but it's Saturday night and you're at Target buying Cheez-Its and Drano."

  

WELL PLAYED.

We bowled on Saturday night, and then on Sunday we ran a few errands before I dropped Emily off.  We went to the gas station and the bank, because I like to start my week with a full gas tank and bank account.  

And then we stopped in a pet store to see a WORLD FAMOUS two headed turtle.

I don't even like turtles and the pet store smelled like, well, a pet store. 

But I'm pretty sure the trip there propelled my life straight into the EXCEPTIONALLY THRILLING category and that was ultimately my goal.

I bet Emily wishes she could come back this weekend.

if only i knew how to pin this picture to pinterest

Hello.

How are you?

I am great.  Just drinking some lemonade and writing this post from my new cloffice.

That's right.

Cloffice.  

Let me explain.

I know people are OB to the SESSED with Pinterest.  However, Pinterest has been a trend that I have largely been able to avoid aside from the time that I logged on in search of a blueberry muffin recipe and instead ended up spray painting a cheese grater a lovely shade of aqua to display on my bathroom counter and house my dangly earrings.

In addition to distracting me, Pinterest makes me want to spend a lot of money and paint every flat surface in my apartment with chalkboard paint.  And because I don't need more debt or dust in my life, I tend to STEER CLEAR of the Pinterest.

Anyway, one night last week I was looking around online when one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was on Pinterest looking at pictures of simple closets that had been miraculously transformed into functional, aesthetically pleasing office spaces.

And I thought to myself, "Hey, that's a cool idea. And I just so happen to have two closets in my bedroom."  And so at 11:00 at night I climbed out of bed, emptied one closet and threw its contents in a large mound on the floor, slid my desk into the empty closet, got back in bed, and went to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning and saw the giant mound of clothes, shoes, and purses on the floor I was immediately reminded of the poor decision I made the night before.  

Good morning, regret.

It was like a little Pinterest hangover.

I ignored the pile of junk for several days while I had myself a little internal debate about whether or not I should go through with creating a cloffice or just shove everything back in the closet and PRETEND THAT NIGHT NEVER HAPPENED.

In the end I decided to go through with it, because now I can say cloffice several times a day and OH, I LOVE A GOOD MADE UP CONTRACTION.

I finally got to use the word in action the other night when Matt came to pick up. 

I was only 98% ready at the time of his arrival because you can always add more lip gloss.  So while I applied my 3-D Glitzy Glamour Gloss in the bathroom mirror, Matt stood in the hallway so we could talk.  After a few minutes he looked in my room and said, "Hey, what did you do with your desk?"

"Oh," I said, "it's in my cloffice."

 It was a Kodak moment.  The look of astonishment on his face was priceless.

And for your enjoyment, here's the cloffice in all her glory.

im sure it will look better if spring ever arrives

Not so sure I'd jump right to "perfect."

 

i bet you feel like you were actually there

Several months ago Michelle and I had the brilliant revelation that a sitcom should be made based on our lives because we are hilarious and America deserves to be treated our wit and humor that for thirty minutes weekly.  

One night we sat down to write the pilot.  After we worked for approximately five hours we decided that actually writing a sitcom was A. LOT. OF. WORK.  Since then the only progress we've made on the sitcom is giving events in our life sitcom titles.

"Laura and Michelle Get a New Refrigerator"

"Laura and Michelle Have an Ill-fated Hair Experiment with Hot Rollers"

"Laura and Michelle Finally Take Their Christmas Decorations Down in March."

Well, this weekend we decided to visit the Titanic that's on exhibit at a museum in the city.  And we named the adventure "Laura and Michelle Take Philadelphia."

On Sunday morning we checked the train schedules only to find out that the line that we would typically take was closed for maintenance.  That meant that we had to drive to a train station in a neighboring suburb, and since I'm more familiar with the area than Michelle, I agreed to handle the train part of the journey if she would take charge of actual city navigation.

When we arrived at the train station, I pulled my car into a perfectly convenient spot, but unfortunately it was only pick up/drop off parking.  

 I drove to the next lot.  

Permit parking only. 

So I did the only thing left to do in the situation, which was park next to the dumpster in the back of the McDonald's parking lot and cross my fingers that parking enforcement would assume the car belonged to either a McDonald's employee or someone enjoying a daylong fast food feast and not an individual disobeying the MCDONALD'S PARKING ONLY signs.

We parked and ran across the street to the train platform, all the while pondering WHERE EXACTLY THE OCCASIONAL REGIONAL RAIL COMMUTER IS SUPPOSED TO PARK THESE DAYS.

And then we climbed up on the platform and looked behind it and to what did our wondering eyes did appear but a GIGANTIC, EMPTY, FREE OF CHARGE PARKING LOT.  

Evidently that's where the occasional regional rail commuter is supposed to park these days.

Well.  Now we know.

We made it to the city, and once we hopped off the train we wandered around looking for someplace to eat lunch.  And wandered and wandered and wandered some more until Michelle finally said "I JUST KNEW WE SHOULD HAVE PACKED A LUNCH" and I started quoting an article I read one time about "food deserts" in big cities. 

Finally, AND I DO MEAN FINALLY, we caught sight of a promising sign that said "The Mix."  Michelle had worked in an office the area a few years ago and remembered The Mix as a store where you could buy customized bags of fancy mixed nuts, but we decided to give it a try anyway and when we realized it was actually a restaurant I almost kissed the menu.

We looked over the menus and I talked a big game about not being able to decide between the grilled pear salad and the chopped salad, but when the waitress came over I let my true colors shine and ordered the chicken the chicken bacon ranch sandwich with french fries, please and thank you.

It was delicious.

From there we strolled down to the museum.  The line to buy tickets was nearly OUT THE DOOR but thanks to the wonders of modern technology and our quick thinking, we bought tickets on our iPhones and picked them up at will call.  

It worked out perfectly really, because Michelle has been wanting to experience a real will call window ever since she ordered concert tickets a few weeks ago, selected the will call option, AND THEN CALLED.  

ON HER TELEPHONE.   

We spent several hours wandering around the museum and the Titanic exhibit.  It was very interesting and I learned a lot that I didn't know but I don't have much to say about it here because it's not really a humorous topic and let's be honest, humor is my wheelhouse.

We caught the 6:16 train home and by the time we got to our stop I was so nervous about my car being towed from McDonald's that I was shaking.  

I'm happy to report Old Blue was right where I left her.

So when our sitcom comes out, don't expect the episode "Laura and Michelle Take on the Parking Authority."

at least if someone wants to buy me a shirt, they will know my size

I am supposed to be at work at 8:00 every morning.  In reality, that loosely translates to me careening into the parking lot on two wheels at approximately 7:59 a.m., Monday through Friday.  Part of the reason why I am JUST ABOUT ON TIME each each day is that I iron my outfit in the morning, but fail to build "ironing time" into my morning schedule.

Every night at approximately 9:30 I say to myself, "Self, you should really take ten minutes and iron a pair of pants before you go to sleep." 

And then an internal debate takes place which inevitably ends with me deciding that I'd rather get in bed and read for an hour, and leave the ironing for the morning.

For the record, that has never been the right decision.

But things changed last night.  

I decided to iron a pair of pants before bed.  It was a monumental decision and one that paid off this morning.  I had time to spare and was even able to dry my hair completely instead of just pinning the damp sections into a clip and crossing my fingers that if I put the heat on full blast in the car it will dry by the time I get to work. I also chose coordinating accessories to go with the cute blouse I was wearing AND made myself breakfast.

In short, I had it TOTALLY TOGETHER this morning.

So please imagine the disappointment I felt as I was sitting at my desk this afternoon and looked down to see this big M sticker on my shirt. 

Awesome.

 Still room to improve, evidently.

just a typical weekday

Yesterday was long and rainy and dreary, so I stopped at Ikea on my way home from work because nothing can make a gray day brighter like some unnecessary but competitively priced throw pillows.

 

Unfortunately, in an unprecedented turn of events, I didn’t see anything worth buying at Ikea.  And so I decided to head home, except Ikea is in the midst of a remodel and I couldn’t find the exit.   

COULD. NOT. FIND. IT. 

I wandered around the home textiles department for a sweet forever and even texted Michelle to tell her that I was lost in Ikea.  Apparently I chose to visit during the stage in the remodeling process when the EXIT signs have not yet been moved to accurately reflect the updated exits. 

So that was fun.

I may or may not have made a pit stop at the cafe to order myself a plate of Swedish meatballs because WHEN IN ROME.  Or WHEN IN A SWEDISH RETAIL STORE, as the case may be.

I finally, and I do mean finally, made it to the parking lot.  I decided to take the back roads to my apartment, which have less far traffic but involve several four way stops.

Listen. I think it’s time that we as Americans to start behaving at four way stops the way God and civil engineers intended.There are most certainly times when it is appropriate to let a car pull out in front of you or wave them along.  A four way stop sign is not one of those times.

Letting someone go out of turn at a four way stop throws off the mojo of the entire intersection.  I’m talking to you, lady in the blue Subaru station wagon who waved on FIVE CARS while we waited at a stop sign.

I came home, made myself a bowl of turkey chili and a glass of wine, and watched Ellen Degeneres and Bill Cosby commencement speeches on youtube because the excitement around here NEVER ENDS.

While one video was loading I clicked over to the local news website to catch up on all the goings on, and saw this.

Well, hmm.  

I'm not so sure I like what this says about me!!

putting the brakes on. literally.

Well, this weekend started off with a bang.  

And by that I obviously mean a trip to Target.  

  

Matt and I went to buy a board game, but he wanted to take a look at seeds and bulbs and other assorted garden accessories and I had to grab some milk, so we agreed to separate at first and then reconvene in the board game department. 

Well, guess who showed up to the board game aisle with not only a half a gallon of milk, but also a container of broccoli cheddar soup, gift wrap, and a bag of miniature bell peppers.

I’m telling you, that Matt is always going crazy in Target.

Oh, I kid.  

It was me.   

I could justify all of my purchases except for the miniature bell peppers.  I had no real need for them but they were just so adorable I couldn’t resist.

After we picked out a game and paid, we were on our way.  Until we got into the car and Matt realized his blood sugar was low (he has diabetes), so we made a pit stop at the grocery store on the way home.  I waited in the car while he ran in with two dollars and returned a few minutes later with a candy bar and a Spicy Nines lottery ticket.

Wow.

 He is unpredictable.

He is also in the same tax bracket he was in before the Spicy Nines purchase, because unfortunately it was not a winner.

I try to keep this blog profanity free because HI MOM AND DAD, but the game we bought at Target was called Smart Ass.  It’s a funny game for a group, and what made it even funnier was that in an effort to censor himself, Matt called it Smart Beep.   

It’s a trivia game, but there is a board with a few spots with special directions.  

Dumb ass, move back three spaces.   

Hard ass, you get to answer a bonus question.  

It lost some of the effect when Matt would say “HAHA YOU LANDED ON DUMB BEEP, MOVE BACK THREE.”

On Saturday I woke up at the crack of 11:30, and after lunch I drove to Matt’s so he could replace the front brakes on my car.  

Here’s a word to the wise.  You should probably not wait until after your boyfriend has removed your entire front wheel AND brake system to ask him “So, how many times have you changed brakes before?”  

Because he might tell you that this is the first time he’s ever done it, and that may or may not cause you to go into a panic, and you may or may not have to go inside and lay on the couch and watch HGTV until it’s all over.

 

I’m not speaking from experience or anything.

After my car was back in one piece, we took it for a spin to test the new brakes and so Matt could check out my gas pedal.  As I mentioned in my last post, my foot has been especially tired while driving lately, leading me to believe that there’s an issue with my gas pedal.  

Matt drove fast and slow and with cruise control and without and on highways and side streets and stopped suddenly and went up hills and around corners and after he tested every possible driving scenario, he turned to me and said, “Well, your car is working just fine.  There is nothing wrong with your gas pedal.”  

What he probably wasn’t expecting was for me to say, “OH NO. WELL THEN WHAT DO YOU THINK IS WRONG WITH MY FOOT?”

Listen.  God bless Matt.  It must be exhausting to date me.

That’s when he drove us to the river and we got OUT OF THE CAR and walked and walked along the water and enjoyed the springtime weather, the warmest and sunniest we’ve had in months. 

 

We found the dam and then Matt chased some geese and also communicated with them in a very realistic geese honk that he evidently perfected during hunting season.  

 If I closed my eyes, I couldn’t tell which honks were Matt’s and which were the actual geese.

Ladies, he’s all mine. 

Says the girl who does a mean dial tone imitation.

It eventually started to get chilly, so we got back in the car and went for a ride, which is one of my very favorite things to do.  We rode all around in one of the most affluent suburbs and looked at all the fancy homes and picked up flyers for any that were for sale.  

If only Matt had a winning Spicy Nines ticket, this little shack could be his.

And now, it's time for a brand new week.  

I am THRILLED that we now have an extra hour of daylight.  I plan to take lots of evening walks.  

Hopefully they make my foot stronger.  I'd like this gas pedal/tired foot situation will be resolved once and for all.