I don't really understand these things at all.

I'm a girl, so sometimes I go off on thinking tangents about random things. I don't mind so much, because some days I can't muster up any organized thoughts at all, so random ones are considered a win.

Today was one of those random days. I saw this stupid fucking vehicle driving in front of me on my way home from work and all I could think about is why the hell that company thought it would be a good idea. It's the Nissan Cube. What the fuck. What is this thing classified as? A car? A crossover? A toaster? Nissan, can I place my slices of bread in this vehicle to produce toast? Will it butter my bread? Who was the fuck head who was like, "Hey guys, lets make the opposite of a 370z and a gtR. It will be AWESOME!." Fire that guy. You are cock-blocking yourself if you drive one of these things.

I don't understand why people have to be such giant assholes. I get it, guy. You had to park two whole spaces away from the handicap spot in the parking lot, and walk an extra 17 feet to the gym, and in turn that gives you the absolute right to be a giant dick to me. Why do you even have handicap plates? You look like you're walking just fine, and by my estimate you're only about 50. Suck it up tough guy. If being mean to me because you think I'm being sarcastic really makes your day better, then i take back my "good morning" and my "have a good one."

Speaking of sarcasm... just because i have a sarcastic tone once i get comfortable around people, doesn't mean i'm sarcastic about everything. It's been stated by highly regarded experts in the matter that I, Lauren McAwesomePants, am socially awkward. I don't know how to have normal conversations sometimes, guys. I might sound like i'm being a bitch, but most likely I'm being genuine. (Unless I say something like "fuck you, you smell terrible, go away," then I probably AM just being a bitch.) I don't understand why everyone doesn't get me yet. I'm friggin' weird. As in I'm not normal... I'm abnormal. That's my appeal. You probably have enough normal friends, even that shit out with a little slice of sweet, sweet Lauren. Don't make it weird.

I don't understand the appeal of oatmeal.
I don't understand why people would want to live in the midwest.
I don't understand why Futurama got cancelled.
I don't understand the smell of vanilla extract versus the taste of vanilla extract.
I don't understand zumba.
I don't understand why I don't have my own radio show yet.


It's past my bed time.
I love you all. (ok... THAT was sarcasm. I don't like some of you... not one bit.)

We ALL know That Guy.

Sometimes I am a huge asshole. It isn't a secret, so if you were thinking it but you didn't want to say it out loud, have no fear. I invite you to be all, "Hey Lauren, you are a really big dick sometimes!" And then I can be all "Hey [insert your name here], I know! It's because I don't give a shit! Awesome, right?"

It isn't for no reason... if people weren't so damn irritating I wouldn't have to constantly humiliate and belittle them day in and day out. I mean, sure... I'm starting to enjoy it, but I don't want it to be my life's work. (But shit, if I could get paid for it, sign me up. Is Howard Stern accepting applications?)

I'm dedicating this post to that guy.  You all know the one. That idiot who constantly think they can get away with (or doesn't realize they're doing) shit that is abso-fucking-lutely retarded. THAT guy is the one who fuels my rage, the one who makes me wish public beatings were legal. Ladies, don't think you're getting away scott-free. I'm one of those weird chicks who calls everyone guy, dude, bro etc. If you have boobs, you can still be That Guy.

Are you unsure if you may be THAT guy? Well then let me assist you while you asses your life actions by providing you with some common scenarios that make me want to throat punch you.

Repeatedly.


-You might be That Guy if you call a place of business shortly after 5am, and when they answer, you ask if they are open. (No, you fuck, I just camp out here for shits and giggles.)

-You might be That Guy if you let all 50 cars merge ahead of you in line. It's called a zipper merge, dick wad! Zippers don't try to be nice and let the other little nubs ahead of them in line because that's how you get movies like "There's Something About Mary." That's also how you get car accidents.

-You might be That Guy if you go 71 in the fast lane on the highway. Dude... I will ram the shit out of your Kia Rio if you don't move the hell over, like, yesterday.

-You might be That Guy if you're walking down the center of the aisle in the grocery store. Rules of the road, broseph. Keep to one side, preferably the right, or I will load your cart with Activia when you aren't looking.

-You might be That Guy if you're sitting on a piece of equipment at the gym and you're texting. You can't grow some sweet biceps by texting, because if you could I'm pretty sure I would be the first bitch to know, and also I would be huge. Get the fuck up.

- You might be That Guy if you eat all but one bite of food at KFC and then bring the rest up to the counter to complain about how greasy it was. Hey jackass, you're at KFC. 11 herbs and spices, 10 of which are grease, and the 11th is sodium. You're an idiot, go eat a salad.

-You might be That Guy if you're at the gym and you come up to me because I have a shirt that has the word "training" on it, and you ask me questions like "If my legs aren't as big as yours, do I have to use less weight?" Fuck you, I'm not fat, you're weak. Shut up. I want some Sweet Frog.

-You might be That Guy if you've almost walked into, and knocked over someone because you were too busy staring at yourself in the mirror as you were busy walking from machine to machine, doing 3 half reps, and walking back to the mirror.



Are you That Guy? Probably. I'm probably only pretending to be your friend, because in the long run I think I might be able to use you for something. Now you will all have to wonder, and that will keep you up alllll night because I know damn well that I am the only person you care about pleasing at the end of the day. ::cough::


So uh... how did I used to wrap these things up? It's been a while, I'm drawing a blank.

Potato.

My Superficial Christmas List

Did you know that close to 80% of atheists celebrate Christmas?  Do you know why? Because it's fucking fun. Don't rain on my parade.

This is the first year in a really long time that I can actually afford to shower my loved ones with gifts, and on the flip side I have no friggin' idea what I want/need. I've decided to just have some fun with this shit and just make up a list of things that I wouldn't mind getting for Christmas, though I know it's either impossible or highly unlikely that I will ever receive them. Why not bring back my short hiatus with a list? Bitches love lists.

1) Front page fame on Reddit. My pets are cute as hell, I just don't have time to follow them around with my camera waiting for them to sprout thumbs and start making me pancakes. For once I want post-worthy material to just fall into my lap and then BOOM! instant karma.


2) Jessica Biel's butt. Hell, chop mine off and staple it right on there. Better yet, can I just get a body transplant? I feel like I should just skip all this hard work at the gym and dish out the dough to have this wonderfulness supporting the weight of my skull. That can happen right?


3) My dream car of the moment, the Scion FR-S. This car is like an instant lady boner. I don't think I can say much else because every time I think about a reason why someone WOULDN'T want this car, I just end up day dreaming about how much fun it would be. (And about how beautiful it is...)

4) A month long vacation to somewhere more tropical than Florida. Sure, it's warmer than the rest of the country during the winter, but if there is nascar and football, you're not far away enough from home. Send me to Fiji!


5) A year long tan. In the winter I start looking like Wednesday Adams, and I won't deny it. Ghostly pale isn't a good look for me, but who has time to go to the beach everyday? Also, don't even say it because there is NO WAY in hell that I will lay down in a cancer box. Spray tan maybe, but I'd rather just have naturally tan sparkly skin.


6) A house on the moon complete with floors made out of trampolines. One bounce and you have endless fun. Seriously... fucking endless. I'd also need a really really good router because there's no way I could ever survive on the moon alone without the internet.


7) Bill Nye's brain. I'm not going to lie, I'm as brilliant as they come, but the science guy practically invented the word. Maybe it'd be less morbid if I let him keep his brain and just kept him as a personal fact checker. Yeah-- maybe that.

8) Mitt Romney's binders full of women. There are just always these times where I'm like, "Hey, I need a bitch who wouldn't mind giving up her rights," and if I had these infamous binders, I would never run into that problem again! I'd also have an endless supply of unsuspecting chicks to hook my friends up with. You're welcome dudes.


9) My own advice blog with my biffle. Oh wait! That's already happening! You heard it here first folks...

Things you should read before you vote.

http://www.reddit.com/r/politics/

all of this?

Lance Ball-strong

Did Lance Armstrong fool us, or did he fool us? Innocent men fight for their reputations, but he just gave in to it all. All of it. Now millions of us have these little yellow rubber bands that don't mean a damn thing. Kind of.

USA Today

Sure, athletes shouldn't dope. Especially the pros who hold tons of records and titles and shit. BUT are we forgetting one huge thing about our boy Lance?? This dude survived mother fucking cancer. Twice! Was it more than twice? Might have been... I wouldn't even be surprised.

Steroids (allegedly) or not, dude is a friggin' superhuman. If I took all the roids on the planet (and survived...) and conditioned my ass to hell, I still would never win the tour de france even once, let alone beat cancer. If this man can't have his own balls but he can still be all speedy as shit on a bike, what's it to you? He almost deserves to be great, dope or not. Isn't a doped cancer patient the equivalent to one healthy athlete? Maybe I'm going too far.

What I really want to know is, what happens to livestrong now? Half of that brand is in Lance Armstrong's name... now that he's resigned is it still going to be a thing? Cancer foundation, cycling team, sporting goods brand... all in jeopardy.

Can I tell you guys a secret? When livestrong bracelets were first becoming a thing, I was in high school. I was teenie in school... my wrists were no exception. The adult sized bands were huge and the youth sized were still big enough to fly off my hands if i waved them around. (I did that a lot, I was am a spaz.) I went down to build-a-bear workshop and bought a few teddy bear sized livestrong bracelets... yes, those existed, and I wore those suckers for YEARS.

Proof... see?

In the end Lance, I still think you're awesome. A freak of nature? Yes. But awesome.