Food on Fifteen

I could talk about food for approximately 67% of my day. (The rest is spent sleeping).

Fortunately, I work with people who can do the same. We like to send emails to our Head Chef, "Justin Thyme," and give him meal suggestions. I think the baked potato bar was a big hit.

Fabulous things happen when we get our heads together. And we got started on lunch at 9am on Friday with Christine boldly stating, "Right now, I really just want a burrito pizza, an over-easy egg, and greasy french fries with sour cream."

So we ordered Chinese. We had to use a cart to bring it all up to the unit, there was so much food. As we boarded the elevator with our loot, Christine said, "Protect me, Lauren. People will mug you for this shit. We might have an uprising in this elevator." It wouldn't have surprised me. I've seen crazier things happen.

In fact, I wouldn't put it past myself to mug someone for food. When I get hungry, I transform into a purple-eyed monster with gnashing teeth.

We stuffed ourselves with fried rice and egg rolls. (Except for Social Worker Liz, who declared, "I don't like egg rolls. They confuse me.") We were all about in food comas. And the fabulous thing about Chinese is that we would all be able to repeat this cycle at least 2 more times before running out of food!

"I want to punch someone," announced Christine, "I am sooooooo full."

Five minutes later, "My boobs are full! I just popped a button!"

To top it all off, one of the patients was spritzing coconut body spray on all of her peers, which made the unit smell like a coconut vagina.

If Only I Could Relive Those Good Ol' Times

Last night I had a dream that I was going back to high school.

The day that classes started, I was dressed to impress. I was wearing a black vest with fringe around the arm holes, gauchos, and sparkly gray striped knee-high socks with brown old-lady shoes.

I was freaking out because I haven't been in high school for a while, and I couldn't remember if I was supposed to have my schedule beforehand, or if I should just show up and get my schedule on the first day. Luckily that problem was solved by opening a very official-looking piece of mail that ended up having all the information I needed.

So, I was off to Dunlap High again.

But first I had to stop by Monica's Futuristic Trailer Home to get my vision tested. I stepped into the Vision-Testing Pod and looked through a pair of binoculars. Several images scrolled by that a computer asked me to identify. Bowling Ball! Corn! Pair of Scuba Sheep?

When I finally made it to school, there was a rumor buzzing around that the D.A.R.E. Officers were on the premises. Someone said, "Lauren, they're going to freak out about your license plate, and they'll probably search your car or kick you out!" (My license plate says Yayo).

Even though a search would result in nothing, since I'm not a crack dealer, I was very upset. I guess I just didn't want that much negative attention drawn to me on my first day of my second time in high school.

As if my outfit wouldn't have done that already.

Swing Dancing

I was in 8th grade, and it was Valentine's Day. We were having a dance after school; at this point I was only beginning to decide that dancing in public is on my Top 10 List of Awkward Things I Hate Doing.

But before this dance, we were going to have swing dancing lessons! I was very excited to learn some mad moves that I could bust out instead of just fumbling around making up my own thing.

And the day just kept getting better. The guy that I'd had a massive crush on for a year asked me to be his dance partner! We planned to find each other at the dance during one of the swing songs. I was elated.

The first part of the lesson went pretty well. We got to hold hands a lot, and he flipped me over his back. Then we came to this move

Unfortunately, my Doc Martens didn't slide on the gym floor.

I jumped straight into his crotch.

I was more than mortified. My face probably turned the same shade as my maroon cardigan.

He did not come to find me at the dance.....

My First Kiss

I met him at the pool at my grandparent's condo in Florida.

He did some chit-chatting with Grandma, seemed like a sweet guy. He followed me to the bathroom to ask me if I wanted to go on a date at the pool that night.

Like I said, he seemed nice, but my stranger-danger alerts were pretty high. So I towed my little sister along. She could play in the pool while Doug and I sat in the gazebo close by.  We had worked out a secret signal involving sign language so that if I felt weirded out by him, she would fake a stomach ache, and I would have to leave to take care of her.

He tried to convince me to ditch her and take a stroll down the beach, but I emphasized that my grandparents could look off their balcony to see if I was supervising Corinne.

"So they're watching us?" he asked.

"Well, it's not like they're staked out up there with binoculars, but they might peek down."

We talked for about 5 minutes, and he told me about all the slutty girls at his high school, and how much he didn't like those whores.

Then he leaned over and Frenched me. It occurred to me that I might choke. I kept pulling my head back, but he just moved on forward, continuing to try to force me to swallow his tongue.

Finally, the kiss (aka slimy suffocation) ended. "I like your moves," he told me. "So, what were you hoping for when you came down here tonight?"

"Uhh, I dunno, I just though we'd hang out and talk and stuff."

"Well, let me tell you what I was expecting," he countered, "I was hoping by the end of the night to have your hand in my pants."

Upon seeing my wide-eyed horror, he amended, ".......Or maybe mine in yours!"

"Uhhhhhh...." was all I could sputter out. I was making the secret signal like crazy.

 He kept trying to convince me with his next pick-up line, "Spring break is the time to try things because you don't have to worry about the consequences."

I had never been so happy in my life to hear Corinne's voice whine, "Lauuuureeeen?"

I practically ran over to her, yanked her from the pool, and skedaddled to the elevators.

"Back already?" Grandma inquired.

"Yup, Grams. He's Doug the Dud."

She later confided to me that she had in fact checked up on me several times with a pair of binoculars.

Awesome Apparel

When I was about 7 years old, my grandparents came to our house to take care of us for a week while our parents went scuba diving.

Grandpa Buddy liked to take daily walks, and he asked me to join him one evening after dinner.

All I was wearing was a t-shirt. But I was NOT going to put my pants back on. They were UNCOMFORTABLE.

Of course I wasn't going to walk around the neighborhood in just my underwear. But I really wanted to take a walk with Grampy.

So I put a pair of pale pink tights on.

Tights are kind of sheer, and my underwear were still visible. So I pulled out another pair of pink tights and pulled them on as well. And another pair. And another. And when I ran out of pink tights, I moved on to the white pairs and purple pair.

Until I had adorned probably every pair of tights I owned, and I couldn't see through to my underwear anymore.

Clearly, this was way more comfortable than pants.