Obeisha

Went to see Madonna last night.  Acted a fool.

 

 

 

More pics as this story develops!

 

So there's that,

 

Laura

My BFF

A blogger on bestweekever.tv revealed to me (but not only me) that Ben Folds Five got together for a reunion concert on September 18, 2008 in Chapel Hill, NC. They played my favorite album front to back - The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner.

Guess where the fuck I was that night? In downtown Raleigh, NC, just miles away from Chap Hill. I was taking a group of 36 people out to a stand-up comedy show.

Do you know how much I hate stand-up comedy?

Do you know how much I love Ben Folds?

The answer to both? A whole fucking lot.

Granted, I couldn't go to the show because I was working. And for that, I got paid sweet sweet overtime. But still. I probs would have snuck out after we got back to the conference center and hung around their venue. Just to breathe that air, I tells ya.

But thankfully, as the BWE blogger pointed out, the concert was streamed live to myspace.com, and now I'm watching it and getting all sobby.

Seriously? You don't even have to watch it, but at least put it on in the background and give it a listen. It's beautiful. I want to make babies with it...and so should you.

At least check out my favorite song beginning around the 13 minute mark.

And "Magic" at 18:45 mark. I'll stop now.

So there's that,

Laura

Hot Pants

Now that Clinical Congress is over, I feel like a new woman. Like I can start life anew.

Basically, I feel like Kylie Minogue in the Spinning Around video:



I've decided to take my vacation in Chicago this November, seeing as how I blew so much money in San Francisco. I made an appointment for a facial and body treatment at a local spa. While I'm excited, I also feel like I need to train for this treatment. Like I need to go in looking like I know how to live.

I'm going to spend the week alternately relaxing and excercising, making some good food, basically having a spa week. I'mma clean out my apartment top to bottom, slough away the old and reorganize the rest. I'm ready for a life makeover.

So there's that,

Laura

Pics Forthcoming

It's my last day in San Francisco, and I'm at the airport getting it on...line.

The last few days have been pretty effing awesome. I think I'll go into it more when I've had a few hours to decompress and reflect. Until then, here are some highlights and lowlights:

• This city is so hilly that my quads got beefed up. I've been waking up sore in all the right places.
• The public transit is pretty reliable.
• This crazy homeless guy came up to me and Christie yesterday, saying "watch out for the rapist! That guy's a rapist - he just tried to rape me!" So I said, "Then I don't have to worry because if he wants to rape you, I'm probably not his type anyway. He's your team's problem."
• C and I went to see a stand-up show Friday night after missing out on theater tickets. I gotta look him up, but the opener was HOT. When he came onstage, I asked C if he was in Dead Poet's Society. That's how hot he was.
• Seriously. We wanted to have his babies. We talked all night about getting his seed in our bellies.
• There was a homeless guy on the Wharf who held tree branches in front of himself, then shoved them out at you if you got too close. Pitko got too close. He was an asshole.
• The Haight smells like Nag Champa, and that's not a good thing.
• The homeless. Jeez. There was one guy who had a dog that had a cat on its back, and the cat had a mouse on its back. The animals walked and sat like that all the time! It was messed up. Food chain in harmony.
• Chinatown: good for looking, not for eating. We were had. Went to Dick Lee Pastry for a dim sum buffet...bowed out after 5 bites. Worst. Meal. Ever.
• I saw sea lions! Or or or! *claps*
• C and I had the best meal of all time last night. It made me reflect on my life. Seriously - all other food has to go through an application process before entering my mouth.

I'll go into further detail once the pics come down the wire. You really have to see it to believe it. I wish you were here!

So there's that,

Laura R. Meyer

This is a Tribute

Not to brag or anything, but my bff Justin put together this little tribute to me. Totally made my month! And obvys made me weep a little. Check it out.

So there's that,

Laura

Judge Dread

I'm in San Francisco all week for work, and I'm currently sitting in the back room of a postgraduate course - blogging, and keeping track of the time for the faculty. I had so much coffee this morning, that my eyeballs feel like they're jiggling about in my skull.

And I'm totally in love with the a/v guy.

He's got the goods: average height, not skinny, not fat, short short hair on a balding pate - basically all the good looks of an out-of-work improv actor. Oh I think I love him. But then again, I'm always in love.

He was reading The Onion, and we talked about how awesome it is. Squee! He told me he thinks the course is interesting. Sigh! As far as I'm concerned, he's all but put his dick in me.

But I'll worship him from afar. I don't want to come on too strong...who knows? He prob has a girlfriend, then I say, "Hey, wanna make out in my hotel room?" And he'll say, "I've got a girlfriend," or "I'm totally gay." And then I'll run into him later in the week, and I'll blush and scurry away, giggling like a schoolgirl.

This is all hypothetical, mind you. I'm a professional, and I won't mess around while on a business trip. I'll save that for Thursday 10/16 when I'm officially on vacation in San Fran. Until then, I'll do as I always do: Dream.

*****************************

Lots of panhandlers and buskers in San Fran. Just an observation, but many of them are white hippies with dreadlocks, patched pants and many scarves.

If you know anything about me, you know that if there's one thing I will not abide it is white people with dreadlocks. On black people it's natural, it's soulful; but on white people? They just look dirty, look like they're trying too hard. Which is funny because they don't have to "try too hard" to get dreadlocks, they just have to stop washing their hair. White dreadlocks are the trademark of a people against trademarks. And because white people with dreadlocks run in the same social circles, I'll venture to say that they are also conformists. Conformist nonconformists. Not unlike the goths, the hipsters, and the Mormons.

If you know me, you will also know my general discourse on the homeless: Fuck 'em. Except for the mentally/physically disabled ones because that sucks. But otherwise, fuck 'em. If you're not born rich, you still have the opportunities presented to you in public school. You compete, you pour your sad little heart into your education, your work, and you keep climbing. I know it's broadly idealistic, but if you live your whole life thinking "why me?" instead of "why not?" you're gonna be fucked. This is probably one of the only topics I'm strictly conservative about, but I can't think any other way. It took only a few minutes of cleaning up people's shit and puke for me to want more. Learn to trade up, motherfuckers!

*steps down from soapbox*

So after all this, WHY did I give two of my hard-earned Fiber One bars to the homeless dreadlocked white guy outside of Walgreens a few minutes ago?

He asked for change, and I really didn't have any, so I did the grimace/I'm-sorry/nod to him and walked away. Then I freaked out because I couldn't find the twenty I slipped into my pocket earlier. Then I walked back into Walgreens while feeling my other pocket, finding the twenty. Then I walked past him again, knowing I was going to get some Chinese food next door. I didn't want to look like a complete a-hole, so I walked back to him and said,

"Hey guy - you want one of these bars?"

"Sure!"

I tore open the freshly-purchased box, and offered him two...apologetically explaining that I had 10.

Why the eff does that matter? I have 10-bars because I will eat ten bars this week, because I have a job and can afford 10 bars - why should I apologize for having a lot of food bars? Why should I apologize for eating? Why should I feel bad for this guy?

I did it because I didn't want to look like a fat asshole. Hell, I did just buy a big box of bars and I was gonna get some greasy Chinese right in front of him. I shouldn't have given him anything and instead walked out of the restaurant with lo mein noods hanging off my chin like a beard, saying "Nuts to you, guy!"

But I didn't. Because given enough exposure to food and homeless people in a 5 minute window of time, I will cave in. I will "do the right thing."

Goddamnit...

So there's that,

Laura

Purple Teeth

I think I'm having a food baby.

Which is strange, because I haven't had food sex in some time. I haven't really been overeating or having anything out of the ordinary. I just feel like someone's washing dishes in my stomach and intestines - they're roiling so with gas bubbles. In the past few hours, I've taken to standing, arching my back and rubbing my stomach like I'm expecting. But it doesn't make me feel better. My farts still sound like I'm opening a fresh can of tennis balls.

I do leave for San Francisco in a few days, but I'm not really nervous. At least, I'm not nervous enough to have it manifested gastrointestinally. I always seem to go through funky stomach things right before, and the first few days of, traveling. Whatever's happening hurts, though, and if I didn't have 45 minutes of work left, I'd totes leave, which I never do. It's that bad.

Gah! A big bubble just popped in my stomach. Argggh...

**********************************************

Anyway, onward and upward. This weekend I got a cut and color job that's so hip it makes me feel like I'm trying too hard. Like I'm middle-aged trying to be 26 instead of 26 trying to be 26. Here's the instant message bit that Justin and I had earlier on the subject:

Justin: so did you get your hair did? how'd it turn out? less mousey?

Me: it's interesting...there are 3 different colors in it - dark brown, a lighter dark brown, and a deep red

it's gonna take some getting used to

i feel like when i do something new to my hair or get flashy clothes, i'm not unlike a middle aged woman trying to stay relevant.

will I ever feel like I'm my age?

Justin: lol

no, i never do

i feel too old to be doing the things i'm doing, and yet to young to be wearing any loafer style shoe with fringy bows on the fronts

or wear anything with a pleat

me: no one should wear any of the above, ever

Justin: exactly

me: but i feel like if i were old, this cut/color would say, "Yeah I'm 50 and single and I shop at Chico's, what of it?"

Justin: but, because you aren't 50, it's okay and because you've seen it ill-worn on older women, that's what the issue is?

you notice on someone whom it doesn't belong on

me: yesh.

right

i know a woman who's fighting it. wears dark spiky hair, dark makeup

looks like a stout witch,

and picked on me for talking about bringing healthy food to Thanksgiving, gave me all that "life's-too-short" hullaballoo.

Justin: aww...yeah, and it's like those that fight it look worse than those who just let it happen

me: she's one of those people I see and think, "you're nice and all, but I never want to turn into you."

i think the main reason i colored my hair was because i saw a mid-aged woman on the bus who was saggy-plump, had long mousy hair that was frazzled and grey

me: i thought "no no no no no, this won't be me in 20 years"

how sad is it that I'm 26 and am already worried about looking like a 45 year old?

or feel like i'm well on the path...

Justin: yeah, just be spritely now

me: spritely? please...

Justin: wear ridiculous clothing and be obnoxious in your choices

that's how i feel

me: i want to be sophisticated, not obnoxy

in other words, i want to drink the red wine of sophistication without getting the purple teeth

AAAAAAAAAAND Scene.

Does this make sense? I feel too old for my age and fear of looking too old for my age. I think it's because, in spite of all the fun, imaginative pallin' around I did as a kid (and still do), I have always been taught to think like a Cathy cartoon. Watch my calories, fear the swimsuit, more shoulder pads! Panty girdles! Ever since I was eight. Seriously. I can honestly say I've never been a young girl, a wild teenager, or a partying college girl. Even when I was in a sorority I didn't feel like a sorority girl. I felt, again, like I was trying too hard to live the life of a "normal" young woman I could never be.



Is it weird that I feel robbed because I was semi-responsible during my irresponsible years? That because I couldn't get by on my looks I had to have loads of personality? That I didn't date 4 guys at a time, to use one for the money, one for the car, one for the sex, and one for the affection? Yeah, I walked away disease-free with all this personality, but people still only judge books by the covers; I'm still passed over all the time. Do I really want those kind of people in my life? Probably not. But It'd be nice to have the chance...if only to shoot 'em down.

So there's that,

Laura

It's Always Sunny In Chicago

Does anybody watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia? If you don't, you should. Netflix it, rent it, or just watch it next Thursday on FX - you will not regret it.

On last night's episode, Dee had to ride the bus after Mac and Charlie blew up her car in order to fake their deaths. That bus scene? Said everything about city buses that I would ever want to say. First off, the bus was packed so that people were forced to stand in the aisles. Second, there was no room for personal space, so Dee had to ask a hulking man if he could possibly avoid breathing directly into her mouth. She got so frustrated that she wedged through the mass of people to get to the bus driver, crawling under a man who refused to move his arms or acknowledge her. She complained to the driver, who told her to get behind the line. Then Dee finally crawled back to her original spot in front of the big breathing guy who kept staring at her.

Then he threw up.

My reasons for recounting this scene are threefold:

1. I love this show.
2. This is what my commutes are like...only the bus is generally crowded with businesspeople, but crowded and impersonal nonetheless!
3. While the guy vomiting totally grossed me out, I felt like him this morning.

I couldn't understand him last night, but this morning, I was 'bout to vomit on the bus. The reason?

Strong perfume/cologne. It's unbearable! I don't know what it is anymore, but I can't handle the stuff. I get dizzy, nauseous...I feel like my body rejects strong perfume. But I also think, hey. How long have you been wearing fragrance in your life? Have you learned in the past 15-20 years that you have been overdoing it? Seriously, you're not 13 anymore.

And I think the worst part was that the smell was coming from 2 different people - one in front of me and one to the side of me. And I couldn't go anywhere, couldn't crack a window. I was trapped in perfume.

Last night at the gym, I was having a grand ole time on the cross-trainer until an obscenely-perfumed woman got on the machine next to me. I had about 13 minutes left on my workout, and I didn't know if I could make it. I couldn't breathe! As soon as the countdown was over, I hurled myself off the machine to do some deep breathing elsewhere.

I think if I had to choose, I could handle 20 minutes of straight body odor before I could handle 20 minutes of perfume.

I know I'm not alone out there. There are people like me who can barely make it past the perfume counters at department stores without burning my lungs. People who minimize their time in the detergent aisle.

I think my sense of smell has changed. As a teenager this didn't affect me. But now? It just tears me up. Does this make me a bad person?

*********************************************

FYI: I was dancing in the office today, when I remembered David Brent's desperate dance routine from The Office. Mine is not unlike this:

So there's that,

Laura

Is This Living?

I'm knee-deep in menses and I've been on the verge of a random breakdown over the past few days.  Seriously?  Last night I fought back tears on the way home because I spent nearly 3 hours in a fruitless search for basic black ballet flats.  If you have huge feet like me, you know what I'm talking about.  I hit several levels of emotion last night:

 

• Rage:  I shouldn't have to shop online for a basic pair of black shoes!  These stores need to realize that people with big feet need stylish shoes, too!  We are a force to be reckoned with!  I will not settle for plastic Payless shoes that start to stink after two days!  I deserve leather!  DRY LAND IS OUR RIGHT!
• Despair:  I didn't ask to be this way...when will life hand me lemonade instead of all these lemons?  Will I ever find a pair of shoes in this town?
• Disbelief:  I can't believe the only shoes they got in a size 12 are Peggy Hill loafers and ghetto-fabulous bejeweled atrocities.  There is a time and place to spend $100 on shoes, and I am not going to spend it on flashy streetwear that will just end up embarrassing me.
• Pain:  Mah feet hurt...when will this evening end?!
• Bittersweet Joy:  These shoes fit...but they're hot pink satin...but they FIT!  ...But they're not practical...but they fit...I can find a way. 

In the end, I walked around the store with 2 pairs of shoes - the pink flats and a pair of neat "errand" shoes.  Then I dropped them off somewhere in the store after deciding I wasn't going to spend money on something I had to "settle" for.  Might as well order online for something I know I like.

 

I just hate it all.  My friends don't get it because they have normal sized feet, so when I go into a full-on rant about shoe discrimination like I did yesterday and this morning, they don't really know what to say. 

 

Sometimes I feel like the only time I have to say something is when I'm pissed off.  I don't want to be that person - the bitter one.  I used to have so much optimism and zest, and now I'm like a big emo-cow.  I'm afraid of becoming that fat lady that frowns all the time.  The one that has that look of constant shit-sniffing on her face.  I guess skepticism is the better word for it.

 

You know what I'm talking about...don't you?  Don't you know a person - maybe not necessarily fat - that's always frowning?  That always looks at you like you're trying to give them advice about Christ?

 

Anyway, it's bad enough that I'm fat, but I'll be damned if I ever get that dead-behind-the-eyes lazy face.

 

But it's not just about shoes.  I'm sick of always having to do things the hard way because of my size.  Yeah, it sucks that I can't go shoe shopping and have a pair in my hands at the end of the day; instead I have to order them online and wait a week before I can even find out if they fit.  It sucks to go into the shoe department of Nordstrom's with my girlfriends and have to curb my excitment about pretty shoes because I know they don't have a pair to fit me.  It sucks to go shopping with skinny friends altogether because I'm relegated to the accessories department.

 

Then I go to the plus size section of these department stores, and they're selling cheaply-made designer-label clothes sized 1X to 3X.  Really, Ralph Lauren?  You're really gonna expect me to pay $80 for a rayon piece of shit shirt that you can't even label with an actual size?  3X is not a size, it's an equation.  Tell you what?  Why don't you solve it for me?  I'm paying the same money everyone else is...how 'bout you just say the shirt's a size 24 instead having me track down a sizing chart to make sense of everything.  I'd rather go to Lane Bryant and spend my money on clothes made specifically for my plus-sized ass than to give you a dime for those aborted remnants from your sweatshops.

 

While I'm on the subject, I like Lane Bryant.  I'm not embarrassed to shop there anymore, because those clothes are hot shit.  Lane Bryant is the Ann Taylor of the plus-sized retailers.  If I were thin, I'd totes shop at Ann Taylor.  Maybe not exclusively, but probably for the bulk of my clothing.  It's good stuff!

 

The thing that's been getting to me lately is that plus-sized women are price-gouged like no other.  Yeah, I have easy access to Lane Bryant, but I can also afford to shop there on a regular basis; not all fat girls can.  The only other walk-in stores I can think of are Fashion-Bug and Cato - both of which make me gag.  Not because I'm a snob, but the clothes smell like rubber from all the synthetic fibers, you're hard-pressed to find a pair of pants that don't have an elastic waistband, and their sizing falls under the 3X argument in most cases.  Plus, there's no real middle ground between teens and old women at those stores.  The clothes are either covered in flowers and gems or boxy and stuffed with shoulder pads.  The quality sucks, too.  I haven't had one piece of FB or Cato clothing to withstand a year of wear.

 

Old Navy doesn't even offer their plus sizes in stores anymore - it's all online.  Their stuff looks nice in pictures, but it's also pretty shapeless.  I've also found that the larger sized shirts are shorter in the waist, which not only sucks for long-torsoed chaps like meself, but it shows that they're stingy with their fabric.  They're basically saying, "We'll give you big clothes, but we'll be damned if we waste all our fabric on you."

God I'm so bitter.  What was I saying about that earlier?

 

One more, and then I'm done on the clothing front:

 

How come I can't walk into a chain sporting goods store and buy plus-sized workout clothes?  Don't fat people need them more than anyone?  I mean, they tell us that we're pathetic, we're out of shape and we need to work out.  Well guess what?  I do work out!  A lot!  And I'm sick of wearing maternity pants and scratchy t-shirts.  I'm sick of wearing mens clothes!  I want form-fitting, water-wicking activewear like e'erybody else up in herre.  I tried to explain my frustration to my friend Scott once, and he said, "Well can't you just get those clothes at plus-sized stores?"

No.  You can't.

 

What plus-size stores offer in the way of activewear are velour track suits.  Loungewear.  I want some goddamn Nike!  I want Puma, Reebok, Adidas!  And the stuff they offer in plus sizes is ghettofabulous, blinged-out urban wear.  NO!  Come on! 

 

Since the weather's getting colder, I want to get some warm clothes I can wear on my long walks.  I went to Under Armour's online store and ordered a shirt and pants in XXL - the largest women's size.  I guaran-goddamn-tee you that the pants will ride low (below the FUPA) and the shirt will ride high.  I'll be surprised if they don't.  And if they do...guess who's getting a letter?

 

Breathe....

 

Bottom line is I'm starting to hit bottom.  I've got a drastic plan ahead for my life, and I'll fill you in on the details in the coming posts.  Thanks for reading...

 

So there's that,

 

Laura