Author: laurenne

  • YippppEEEEEEEEE!

    I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t embarrassed to come from the land of the free, which I always saw as the land of the presumptuous and entitled.

    I’ve never had faith in politics or the American people. Perhaps it is because I grew up watching more SNL satires of politicians than actual politicians. Or perhaps it’s due to the fact that, just as I was old enough to know what was going on in the world, the world began to focus more on Clinton’s affairs than on his state of affairs.

    I’m not quite sure at what exact point I grew so jaded and apathetic, but it happened. And it got worse. And after we “re-elected” Bush, I became Canadian. I’d never been to Canada but I had no problem telling people I’d met while abroad that I came from the land of the Maple leaf. I’d rather claim the nationality of a country to which I had never been than admit to my Wonderbread roots.

    But last night changed everything. Everything! Obama makes me happy. And proud. And hopeful. And energized. For the first time in my life, I am excited about the future of my country. Obama is the antithesis of everything I’ve always thought politics to be. And we elected him. 63,493,372 people agreed that America should be different. 63,493,372 people agreed! And banded together. And put the right man in charge. I’ve seen strangers all day sharing looks that say, “We did it. We see eye to eye.”

    My normally cynical eyes were streaming tears during Obama’s speech last night. I cried because I felt relieved. And because I felt hope, not just for America, but for the entire world. And because our country has finally made race inconsequential. And because I am part of something huge. I am no longer the liberal minority voting for a losing candidate. I am part of something ENORMOUS, a clan that believes in the same future for our country.

    Finally, I trust that Americans share my beliefs and my hope for something better. Finally, I believe in my country. Finally, I am proud to be an American. Fuck Canada.

  • Everybody better vote today.

    Oh wait, the popular vote doesn’t count anyway.

    In other news, Lenny Kravitz is still breathtakingly handsome. Still! How does he do it?

    In ever better news, peep this:

    Ahahahahaha. Somebody got fired for this one. If you send an email to be translated, I’d think you’d get a few words back in your own language confirming it’s finished. This guy just printed whatever he got as a reply. It’s been causing accidents in Whales. Whoops. Man, Whalish looks complicated.

  • Slut Clown

    Here it is. Slut clowns rule.

  • Slut Season

    I hated myself yesterday.
    My inner feminist was stabbing me in the ovaries, angry that I allowed myself to fall into the same trap I’ve fallen into ever since I switched to tampons. I let myself collapse into a dangerous abyss with every other woman in LA: I got a slutty costume for Halloween.

    WHY? Why couldn’t I have just gone as a hot dog or a funny mummy? It must have been my inner ho calling out to be noticed…my butt cheeks screaming out to be fondled by drunk men…my belly button begging to be paraded around Los Angeles. And I listened to them. Sadly, I did. I could not stop my hands from plucking the nose, bow tie, and bright red boy shorts from the walls of the seasonal store and into my basket, the pieces to my slutty clown costume. Yes, I managed to make a clown promiscuous.

    At least I didn’t get the skanky Alice in Wonderland or the cliché French maid.

    It’s sad, really. Maybe we do it because we have a burning desire to be lusted after by all. Maybe Freud was right and all everyone really wants is sex. Or maybe we do it because most of us are forced into suits and “proper” attire in our daily lives. Or perhaps it stems from the fact that we’re animals and share an innate desire to always be naked. Either way, it means we’re oppressed, unable to be our true sexy selves in today’s society.

    And now that I’ve come to such a conclusion, I say we stand against this oppression! In fact, I encourage everyone to be slutty on Halloween. To show as much skin as possible. To give nurses cleavage and police women fishnets. To turn every single uniform into a desperate plea for sexual attention. Do it while you can, my friends. Do it while you can. REVOLT!

  • Fuck!


    I haven’t been writing on this here blog in a while because my job has taken me prisoner in a dungeon cell where they are using unmentionable torture techniques to completely expel all the ideas from my head and put them onto a form of paper.

    My team and I have been holed up for almost 2 weeks now in one bland room filled with charts and corporate posters. We eat every meal together while staring at the color-coded production calendar on the wall. Will this yellow square give me an interesting idea? Please, yellow square. Please!

    Then the leader enters. He sits and looks at us and listens to each idea as we shine it for him and place it on its stand before him. Never does he accept one as it is. Most times he yells, “Start over!” The yellow square doesn’t holds back his laughter. He feels no pressure. He feels no leg spasms after sitting in the same hard chair for 12 hours, only taking breaks to grab an unhealthy vending snack. He feels no nagging discomfort about spending his fleeting twenties in an over-air-conditioned conference room.

    Well, fuck you, yellow square! This is insane. I need time to live my life. And write my blog. And go on dates. And breathe.
    But I guess that will have to wait. For now, I must think up new and exciting ways to sell a car to the uninterested Gen Y market.