Four Years

Levi and I have been married four years today. If he's sticking to traditional wedding gifts, I'll be receiving a bouquet of flowers before the clock strikes midnight. But I'm really looking forward to next year when we'll have to exchange the traditional fifth year anniversary gift: wood. Because that's hilarious -- Levi will enjoy the walking stick that I give to him, and I will accept Levi's anniversary wood.

The New Driving While Texting

The last few days, but really since people starting knitting and faxing and eating drive-thru ribs in their cars, I've noticed the drivers we all hate are turning me into one of the drivers we all hate. I'll slow down for a glimpse of high-speed accident carnage like anyone, but I'll also watch my rearview mirror for unsafe stretches of time so I can see which fruit stand the squabbling, makeup-ing, and texting drivers will plow through. Will he slap that bitch so hard with the back of his pickled pig's foot that he rear-ends the beer truck in front of him? Will the pomeranian on her lap cause her to cross the double yellow line of eyeliner and veer into a smear of oncoming traffic? Will she LOL long enough that she launches off the side of that bridge and into the river of OMG below? We're stupid. And we have really well-shaded eyelids. And we don't have to wait for the future when we'll all be wearing those ugly tiger-striped, NFL team-themed lounge pants on our Segways, tilting to and fro, while we pack our Cheeto holes with something made out of corn syrup and figure out a way to balance Pookie on the master controls to have a reason to gawk at one another. So bend that rubbery neck, friends, take your eyes off the road, and watch that lost-looking Asian guy until something fun happens.

Really, Thelonious?

Zombie dog has two answers to that question...

Mom Fight

When you're walking through a heavily-gardened neighborhood after a good rain, things smell awfully good. It makes you want to grow things, but mainly peonies because they're big and heavy, they're gorgeous, and they're the only flower that doubles as a pillow. So I called my mom today to ask her to keep an eye out for a peony bush, and somehow the conversation got turned around so that I'm in trouble for being a bad wife. You know how moms sometimes ask questions that they don't need to ask? Like what you ate for dinner? Or were you the one to make the dinner? And if you weren't the one to make the dinner, why weren't you the one to make the dinner? Let me just clear things up for everyone -- if you're the girl in the boy/girl thang, you're the one that's supposed to make the dinner. Also, you should know what the boy half of the thang ate for dinner even if you weren't eating the dinner with him. Because that's your job. You're the girl. You do the food. Make sure you know what's going on. The worst part of the whole thing? My mom tells me that "if your dad were around he'd have a shit hemorrhage". Which is both a pretty nasty mental picture and a blow below the garter belt. Thanks, mom.

So that ended well -- I told Mom that just because she's hot on Cleaver doesn't mean everyone else is. Especially her daughter who enjoys sporting events, motorcycles, and pants.

P.S. Sometimes I enjoy making meals. I always enjoy vacuuming, and I get a strange high from sweeping the floor. But tell me it's the woman's job to do anything, and I swear to god I'll rip my bra off (already off -- see post: http://beckause.blogspot.com/2011/05/to-bra-or-not-to-bra.html) and set something less expensive on fire.

Up Next, The End of the World

I hate the local news. I'm gonna go a little further -- I hate the national news. I hate mostly all news on the television. I enjoy NPR news because they do not tell me things like "we did a test and it turns out this new product won't keep those bees out of your pants when you have honey all over your ass", and "Lady Gaga did something totally and absolutely weird and you'll never believe why she has salmonella poisoning". Jeez. Come on, local news. Just because you have a windsock and a helicopter doesn't mean you need to be all up in our grills -- we don't care which way the wind is blowing, and we do not need to see an aerial view of traffic accident aftermath unless there's hair and teeth on the pavement (you'll never see this -- the hair and teeth guy has a much quicker chopper).

The local news enjoys covering "stories" that don't need to be covered. Like when some guy's Magic Eight Ball tells him the end of the world is going to be tomorrow. Heads up, local news -- the more attention you pay to Crazy Uncle Gary, the more times Crazy Uncle Gary is going to give you a noogie. That's why all of your newscasters have such awful hair.

Just F.Y.I, here are a few things that will end the world before CUG (feel free to let me know what I've missed):

Mudzilla

It's been raining like Charlie Sheen's still working and god's chosen to punish him by drowning him out of his touring trailer. This means two things -- god is not vengeful enough, and our backyard is mud. Which gives our dog these fantastic mittens. Thanks a lot, god.

Maybe next time you could just make it rain Ashton Kutcher.

It's okay, Fatty...

you can eat pie and ice cream for breakfast.

Newsletter

Lady Gaga says she still has moments when she feels like a loser. And in those moments she refers to herself as Lady Sweatpants.

[above: Lady Gaga changing out of her sweatpants]

Donald Trump says President Obama wasn't qualified for the Ivy League. It's the usual Ivy League problem -- too many brains, not enough hair.

Some scientists think the universe may have begun as a one dimensional line. And if you've checked Snooki's Twitter account recently, things have more or less come to a complete circle.

Donald Trump thinks "our leaders are stupid". Which is a funny thing to say when they're not the ones who let Gary Busey into their office.

George W. Bush declined an invitation from President Obama to attend an observance at New York's ground zero. He would've loved to go, but he had squares and circles and triangles to fit into a wooden box.

"Thor" was number one at the box office over the weekend. You know, Thor -- God of Milk Duds.

Sarah Palin has asked a judge to extend a restraining order against a man accused of stalking her. Can you believe it? This guy would throw a newspaper onto Sarah's doorstep every morning and just ride away on his bicycle.

Lady Gaga plans to make a cameo on Facebook's FarmVille. And boy will those chickens be confused when they hatch THAT egg.

San Francisco is trying to ban the distribution of phone books. Some people are outraged, as it could force small children to sit on Sarah Palin memoirs in order to reach the table.

Bristol Palin says she had reconstructive jaw surgery, and not plastic surgery. That's what they all say before they beat up their first Betty Ford nurse.

Leonardo DiCaprio and his supermodel girlfriend have split. Just goes to show -- a girl can only wait around for her boyfriend to fall off the ship wreckage for so long.

Queen Elizabeth has become the UK's second-longest reigning monarch. That makes two records Queen Elizabeth is close to achieving -- longest reigning monarch and quickest time through the original Mario Brothers.

Republicans are upset about President Obama inviting a rapper to a White House poetry night. There are rappers, there's basketball, there are cool handshakes -- it's almost like a black guy's President.

Flood gates have been opened in Mississippi. Thanks goodness obesity floats.

Lady Gaga and Madonna are distant cousins. No wonder their potato salad recipes taste so similar.

Justin Bieber was egged during a Sydney performance. This kid is really getting huge -- I mean, first it's young girls, and now young chickens are throwing themselves at him.

A scientist claims that the last supper was a day earlier than originally thought. And, yes, that was the day Jesus and the disciples tried putting a Peep in the microwave.

The lawsuit that sought to force Taco Bell to stop calling the meat it serves "beef" has been dropped. This after Taco Bell agreed to start calling the brown stuff in its tacos "meef".

President Obama toured Facebook headquarters. And everything was going just fine until he fell into the chocolate river.

657 new islands have been discovered worldwide. In other words, that's 657 seasons of "Survivor" before they have to start filming in Detroit.

NASA says no American astronauts have had sex in space. But only because they haven't yet figured out a way to dehydrate Snooki.

The Ultimate Dog Tease

Poor doggy wants a bacon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGeKSiCQkPw&sns=fb

To Bra, or Not To Bra

I don't want to wear a bra anymore. I'm tired of adjusting it and sweating into it and having to buy it and everything. I don't want to wear it. And as a woman without a whole lot under her t-shirt, that's probably possible. I can go braless and jog down stairs and not have to curl up in a heap of boob pain once I've reached the bottom. I can go jump on a trampoline topless and not attract a neighborhood webcam. It's possible. That's all I'm saying.

Turns out it's a little intimidating, though, so I'm going to start slow -- weekends. Then weekends and Mondays. Then weekends and Mondays and while I'm cooking dinner. Which will most likely lead to my next post -- wanting to put a shirt on while I'm cooking dinner.

I was going to post some crazy Googled bras, but there are too many to choose from. Google "crazy bra" when you're having some down time at the office. Then wait patiently for your boss to fire you for looking at boobies at work. Unless you work at American Apparel, in which case boobies are more likely to earn you a different kind of pink slip.

Freedom!

Things To Do With Your Extracted Teeth

First of all, know that your dentist will almost never (never, in my experience) hand your teeth over after he pulls them out -- you must ask to take bits of your body home with you in that little bag full of free tiny tubes of toothpaste and plastic vampire teeth. So ask for them, for the love of god, because they're yours and you have clever crafts to create, damn it.

When I had my wisdom teeth (you know, the smart teeth in the back of your face) pulled, I asked for them back. And boy am I glad I did because if I didn't, I wouldn't have this beauty to wear on date night.

Eat your heart out, ladies and gents -- nothing will get you more attention than a necklace full of human teeth. Try it. Take your pants off in public. Wear a human tooth necklace in public. Compare, contrast.

But don't limit your extracted teeth to jewelry. Here's a list of other things you might do with your unwanted pearlies:

- Mix them in with the M&M's on your coffee table.

- Convince your friends to give you their extracted teeth. Do this for several years. Make a bead curtain.

- Swallow them. It's not the best idea, but at least you'll have a new story to tell at parties.

- Wait until your appendix goes out. Ask for that back, too. Make a Halloween wreath.

- Put them into a casserole. Have a dinner party. Anyone who finds a tooth in their meal gets a door prize.

- Paint them like Easter eggs. Hide them around your front yard. Put a Peep in the microwave.

Rip-Off Friday

You've heard of The Incredible Hulk. Well, meet Levi Teal's "The Credible Hulk"...

Lauren! Get Back To Work!

You should be analyzing blood samples, not reading some silly blog.

My Mom

I totally forgot I was going to write something about my mom. This beer has really got me. Seriously, why was I not pregnant when I was 14?

I asked my mom to dig out a couple of pictures of herself that a photographer friend of hers took of her when she was a bit younger. She still has very nice skin, and I think she's an attractive woman, but in 1965? Damn. Not to mention that totally fine Pekinese.

These give me a tiny amount of hope. I mean, you get half of your genes from a lady who looked like that, and I think you're probably okay. It compensates just a smidgen for the spooky-looking monster feet I got from my dad. Although I did get his able-to-change-a-tire gene, so that's cool.

I'm thinking about teaching my mom to text. It would enhance my life by 30%. Truly. I've done the calculations. Although, there's little hope since, the other day in the Apple store (I know) I showed her an iPad and she immediately asked when we were going to go look at the cutesy wootsey puppies at the pet shop.

I like my mom. She's a pretty neat lady, and I think it's kind of cute that she's only used her cell phone for thirteen minutes over the last 7 years (truth).

Beer and Royal Wedding and Shit

I'm having my afternoon beer right now, and because I'm six feet tall and two pounds (it's true -- sometimes you can roll up your cheap date like a Fruit By The Foot. Although things can get weird when you take her back to your house and peel off her wrapper), I'm feeling a little tipsy. Which makes me want to do this on the keyboard: asdkfa oweiur w[oeifja[sdfjawefkjwqpoeifjalsdkfj. Can you believe I included punctuation at the end of that mess? I'm proud that, even while intoxicated, I will end a motherfucking sentence corrrectly. But then I will put three r's in "correctly" two sentences later and be totally cool with it.

Royal Fucking Wedding. [Alcohol makes me so damned cussy]. I think Will and Kate really missed out on something seriously fantastic by not including "Fucking" in their wedding invitations. Although, what do I know? I sure as shit wasn't invited. But I guarantee that if I was I would have put a perfect litttle check mark next to "chicken". Right. Like the a Prince of England has ever even seen a chicken. He probably thinks commoners are chickens and that he eats a butcher or a baker once every three dinners (because the rotate in England -- chicken, steak, veggie patty).

All the royal wedding nonsense absolutely forced me to grab Levi, pull him close to me, and tell him that he's my prince. So Levi, in our tiny house, starts jumping back and forth and says "East wing, west wing, east wing, west wing." I thought it was funny. Levi deserves an extra colorful bar on his hoody. Something that'll go with the epaulettes.

Once again, a totally meaningless post. Beckause. I'm doing a good job.