Put a Bird on It

Here is a real thing that actually happened to me this morning:


When I got to work this morning, I pulled into the parking space I normally occupy. I had just been singing along with an amazing mash up of "One Less Bell to Answer" and "A House is Not a Home", so obviously I needed a minute alone in my car to be emotional.
As I processed through all of my feelings, I noticed that about 6 or 5 (why's is always gotta be 5 or 6? I, for one, think that greatest to least order is under appreciated) feet in front of me, there was an injured bird, struggling in the grass. I watched as the poor thing flopped around, flapping its wings in vain.


For the next couple of minutes, that sad little bird continued to try to take flight, but its efforts were futile. Of course I observed the whole ordeal from my car, trying to figure out what was wrong with the little guy. Eventually I concluded that one of its wings was broken. I can assess things like this because I have a degree in vet things and a Master's in helping birds.


Once I figured out what the problem was, I started brainstorming ideas for how to save this bird. My brainstorm was just starting to get intense, when another bird swoops down and starts chirping at the other bird. "Oh my gosh," I think to myself, "that bird is trying to help its friend. He's encouraging Injured Bird. Nature is so amazing!"


As enthusiastic as Cheerleader Bird absolutely was, it quickly became clear that all of the chirping in the world wouldn't get Injured Bird into the air. There he was, still flapping around, pathetic as can be. In fact, he kind of reminded me of this guy:

Anyway, I'm just about to get out of my car to do something (not that I have a damn clue what that something would be) when three more birds swoop down to rescue Injured Bird. I'm about to get emotional at this point, because oh my gosh what a beautiful display of friendship and selflessness, right?
So now we've got four birds, flying around and chirping at Injured Bird, who is still flailing. Every once in awhile one swoops down to nudge Injured Bird, and you guys, the whole thing is just so tragically beautiful.


And then, much to my amazement, Injured Bird takes off! Just flies straight up to the top of a nearby tree. And I'm all, "It's a miracle!"


.... Until I notice that there was a bird underneath Injured Bird this entire time. It seems he wasn't as injured as I thought. And his flailing wasn't happening because he had a broken wing. He was... Well... I'll just say Injured Bird didn't need rescuing.


Which can only lead me to believe that Cheerleader Birds were angry parents, trying to get their teenage children off of each other. I guess no one told them that attempts to separate them will only drive them further into each others wings.

And that is how I learned that nature isn't ALWAYS lovely. Sometimes is straight up lustful.

Single Anecdote

If you've read all five of my previous blog posts, you've learned a few things about me:

• I frequently embarrass myself
• I have red, striped underwear
• I carry my weight around my middle
• My mom is a hottie
• I'm a bad driver
• I teach at a small school

(That last one will come into play shortly. Remember it.)

One thing you have NOT learned from my blog, though, is that I am currently... single.

I know, I know. It's crazy and seemingly impossible. I can hear your thoughts right now- "Lauren, you're joking! How are you single? You're super fancy and impressive and not at all awkward and embarrassing! This is preposterous!"

I have two things to say to you in response:

1. RIGHT?!
2. Oooooh, preposterous! Great word choice!

But there are so many difficult and confusing things in the world, Reader, and sometimes we just need to accept that we'll never understand them and move on. We could spend our whole lives trying to understand why bad things happen to good people, whether God causes or simply allows natural disasters, or how any of the Kardashians came to be famous in the first place. In the end, though, we'll be no closer to an answer. We'll just be frustrated, sad, and full of regret at having spent our golden years obsessing about whether or not O.J. Simpson really is Khloe's dad (I mean... they didn't exactly deny it, did they?).

And so I've accepted my lackluster love life, and have been pretty successful in not allowing it to bring me down. After all, there is always hope for love in the future, right?

But every so often something happens that makes me feel a little less secure in that. Which brings me to today's anecdote.

You might remember from one of my earlier blog posts (or the top of this one) that I am a teacher in a very small school. Most of the women I work with are 40+ and have been teaching for decades. This means that as a 24-year old, second year teacher, I sometimes get a little extra mothering at work. Overall, this is a nice gesture- it means they want to take care of me, and I can appreciate that! But every once in awhile they try to revamp certain parts of my life, and that can get a little too personal.

One of the things a few of my coworkers most want to fix about me is my singleness. Clearly I'm not getting any younger, and in the Bible belt, if you're not married by 24 you're really flirting with the line between being an independent diva who does things on her own schedule and being a sad girl who might as well start collecting cats because she's destined to be a spinster.

Unfortunately, that line is the only thing you're flirting with. And it's not even flirting back. In fact, that line hates you, and no matter how many times you bat your eyelashes, it's not going to buy you a drink.

And that is why my sweet coworkers occasionally try to intercede!

One such intervention happened recently, actually! About two weeks ago I got a call from one of my coworkers, we'll call her K, while I was trying on bras at Target (#justbeinghonest). Since I was occupado, I let her call go to voicemail. When I left the dressing room a few minutes later, I listened to her message.

"Lauren.... it's K. I need you to call me back as soon as you can."

Her tone sounded slightly panicked, so I knew something bad was happening. While I was listening, K sent me a text- "Please call me when you get this." Clearly someone had died.

I called her back immediately, and with great trepidation. But when she answered the phone she sounded as cheery and bright as ever, which was a relief... but was very confusing.

L: Hey, K.... what's up? Is everything okay?

K: Well, yes! But... okay, don't be mad at me.

L: ..... what?

K: So... I met this guy....

L: Oh, lawd.

K: He works in our after school program and I thought he was so cute, so I introduced myself and asked him how old he is, if he's single, and if he's a Christian (I'm in my 50s, so I'm allowed to ask those questions). We talked for a few minutes and I told him that I know a girl he should meet aaannnndddd... I think you two should totally meet! Can you come back to work right now?

L: What? No! I'm at Target.

K: Oh, come on. Please??

L: No... I'm sorry. You can introduce us tomorrow.

And introduce us she did. And I assure you, it was every bit as awkward as you're imagining it might be.

That Friday afternoon K dragged me down the hallway to meet B. He was trying to calm down a large group of kids and get them in and out of the bathroom so they could get on with their after school activities. K asked each of us a few questions, so instead of talking to each other, we both wound up having really uncomfortable conversations with K... in front of each other.

After a few minutes, K excused herself and we were left alone... with 30 very loud kids... by the disgusting bathrooms in the school hallway. Yes, it was very romantic.

After a few minutes of trying to make conversation, he returned to his work and I went to clean up my classroom. Later that afternoon, after I had gone home, K called me again.

K: So... I just saw B again.

L: Cool.

K: He wanted to know if I thought you might be interested in getting coffee with him sometime, so I gave him your number and he said he'd be in touch!

She was very proud of herself.

The following Monday, B texted me to ask if I'd like to get coffee sometime, and I said sure. I mean... why not, right? He asked when I was free and said he'd have to check his other work schedule, but he'd let me know soon when he would be available.

So Tuesday passes... and Wednesday... and Thursday... and even though I see B after work and we engage in polite (but still slightly awkward) small talk, our coffee date was never mentioned.

On Friday afternoon, I was getting my class ready to go to lunch, when I hit the home screen on my phone (I do this a few times throughout the day just to make sure the world isn't ending or something). My phone flashed on and I noticed that my screen was full of texts. FULL of them. All from a number that I didn't have saved.

I picked up my phone to see what t.f. was going on, and as the reality of what I was reading dawned on me, I audibly exclaimed, "NO!"

Not a tragic "Noooooo!" More of a "no way!" kind of no. You know... like a sorority girl would say it.

Anyway... a summary would not do this story justice, so I have taken the liberty of including some screenshots so that you can see the ACTUAL text messages B sent me.

................... Yes. That is real.

Let's go ahead and break this thing down.

Obviously there are many problems with this text, the first one being his use of "your" instead of "you're". That's a deal breaker.

The second, and more glaring problem, is the fact that he seems to think this news will devastate me. I mean.... really?? We have spent maybe 10 minutes TOTAL in conversation. And that's probably a very generous estimate. Not getting coffee with you is not ruining my month, my week, my day... hell, it's not even ruining my minute. Let's take the ego down a bit.

Problem three: He brought his salary into it?? Why? I mean... just... why?

Problem four: I hate it when anyone tells me that God's got someone great for me. You don't know my life! Maybe He doesn't! Don't make promises about things you can't predict or control (you know... like the future). It is annoying enough getting that from people that I care about, but following up "I don't want to take you on a date" with such a statement is absurd. Particularly because, once again, we have barely spoken to each other.

Problem five: "be blessed." Vomit.

Now... the biggest problem with this message, is that it basically means I'm going to be single forever.

You think I'm being dramatic, but I'm totally not. Think about it, guys-

Apparently God is warning people about me before I can even get a first date!

.... there's just no damn way I'm ever gon' get a ring.

Anecdotes for the New Year (but not at all related to the new year)

Okay, first of all let me acknowledge my 6 month absence from this blog. I'm sorry I abandoned you.

Wait! Don't go... I can explain.

Over the summer, I made a terrible life choice that took up a lot of my time. That's right... I started grad school.

I moved to Washington D.C. for the summer where many mildly humorous things happened (maybe one day I'll tell you about how God proposed to me/asked me to be his queen while I was walking to a Metro stop).

In August I returned to Tejas to begin my second year of teaching, continue grad school, return to the stage (ah, community theatre), and train for (and complete!) my first full marathon. As you can see, I've had plenty of free time and have been ignoring my blog simply because I hate all of you. Yes... every last one of the five of you reading this.

BUT, it is a new year! And, as is customary of those who love to fail/hate themselves, I have made a resolution. Perhaps it was inspired by the threat of the impending apocalypse, but in 2012, I have resolved to be a better person!

I'll be honest, though... it's not going well so far. So I thought maybe I should just resolve to do something easier, like blog more.

So here we are.

But why today? Why resume blogging on a random Saturday one week into the new year? Well, today is an important day for me and for my family. Today would have been my dad's 52nd birthday.

I know, I know... Dead dads are not even mildly humorous.

(And the fact that I wrote "dead dads" is making you exceptionally uncomfortable. But I'm the one who lost my dad, so I'm allowed to phrase it however I see fit. Deal with me.)

But if there was one thing that my dad secretly loved to do (he was an accountant, so it couldn't be too public), it was laugh! He was an incredibly goofy and funny man, so in honor of my dad and his dorky sense of humor, I've decided to share a couple of mildly humorous anecdotes about/involving him.

Anecdote #1

This anecdote comes from the early part of my childhood. Actually, I don't have a clear memory of it happening, but I've heard the story several times in adulthood, and it always elicits a semi-chuckle out of those within earshot.

One day, my dad was driving somewhere. I don't know where, but I know that my older sister, W, and I were in the car with him. Whilst cruising along the streets of suburbia, a small bird swooped down and flew directly in front of our car.

Now, some birds can get away with this crazy behavior. For no apparent reason, they dart around moving vehicles, and, because they're fast, they survive to high five the frat brothers egging them on from a nearby treetop. (Hah. Birds egging each other on... Get it?)

Initiation for this poor bird, however, went awry. He turned up a little too late, causing him to collide with the windshield of my father's car.

Feathers flew everywhere, and as the car sped onward, I looked up to my dad with innocent brown eyes and asked, "Daddy... do you think that bird is going to be okay?"

"... Yeah... Yeah, Lauren. I'm pretty sure he's fine."

Important parenting skill #1: Lying. Let's be real here... parents do it all the time.

Anecdote #2

Before I begin this story, I need to give you a bit of background information. A few months before this incident took place, my dad was in an accident that caused him to lose one of his eyes. The loss of an eye can pose many challenges for a person- mobility becomes more difficult due to loss of depth perception. I know... this isn't remotely funny either, but keep reading. It gets better.

When I was 15, I got my learner's permit. This is an exciting event for most 15 year-olds, but I hated to drive (still do, actually).

I think this has something to do with the fact that I learned to drive in a huge suburban, and whenever I practiced driving, my parents were quite obviously panicked (sorry, Mom, but you know it's true). I also frequently had to drive with my entire family of 8 in the car, which is extremely stressful for an already insecure driver.

Because of the terror I experienced every time I sat behind the steering wheel, I usually tried to avoid driving whenever possible, but this particular night I was unsuccessful.

My family had gone out for dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant, and my twin sister had driven us there. It was my responsibility, then, to drive us home.

I climbed into the driver's seat (again... it was a suburban, so it really was a climb) and cautiously pulled out of the parking lot. The 15 minute drive home was nerve-wracking, but fairly uneventful.

Okay... maybe I hit a few curbs. But really, that didn't count as eventful when I was driving.

Finally, we made it home. I'm sure for most nervous drivers, the driveway signals the end of the horror, but this was not the case at my house. The driveway itself isn't bad, but our garage sits at a 90 degree angle to the driveway. It also happened to be FULL of stuff most of the time, which made parking a suburban inside of it quite a challenge.

The suburban was barely moving forward as I steered it into the garage. As I inched forward, my dad said from the passenger seat, "Lauren, stop.... you're going to hit the wall on the left side."

My mom, who was sitting directly behind me, chimed in. "No, Jim, she's fine! Keep going, Lauren."

I took my foot off of the brake and continued moving forward.

Dad: "Okay, stop. You're getting too close to the wall."

I hit the brakes.

Mom: "You're FINE, Lauren! Keep going."

I released the brakes.

Dad: "Stop, stop, stop."

Brakes.

Mom: "It's fine!"

W (older sister): "Yeah, she's fine!"

At this point I remember thinking that I would never get behind a steering wheel again. People can survive without a driver's license, right?

For the last time, I release the brake and begin moving forward.

About two seconds later, we all heard the scraping of metal on wood and brick.

In a state of sheer terror, I stop the car, and my dad lets out something I would describe as a cross between a scream and a growl.

I put the car in park and sprinted into the house and up the stairs, where I hid for the next few hours.

After I had left, my dad said (quite loudly, I believe), "Why is it that the only one with NO depth perception is the ONLY one who knew she was going to hit the wall?!"

Important parenting skill #2: the ability to make angry jokes in really frustrating situations.

So there you have it. My first blog post of the new year/birthday shout out to the best dad a girl could ever have asked for.

Here's hoping your 2012 is full of mildly humorous (and downright hilarious) stories! And here's hoping mine has even more. I mean, I've got to fill this blog with something.

Lunch Anecdote

Yesterday my friend, D, and I decided to go to lunch.

I was wearing a fabulous new sundress (this will be important later) that perfectly matched his shirt, so we were accidentally and awkwardly adorable. Totes presh.

We weren't quite sure where we wanted to eat, but (despite the fact that D knows I'm a terrible driver) we hop into my car and decide we'll figure it out while we drive.

We eventually settled on a local Mediterranean restaurant.

After many detours and much confusion over parking (thanks, construction!), we finally arrived. But upon entering the restaurant, we noticed that the prices had increased quite a bit.

Okay... he noticed that. I had never been to that restaurant before.

Anyway, we eventually decided that was a little more than we were willing to pay for Gyros (pronounced Euros?!? Good thing I didn't try to order one... I would've sounded like an idiot), so we nonchalantly walk out.

Strike one.

We decided our second choice, a steak-restaurant-type-place, might be a better option.

We drive over there, park the car, and waltz in confidently... only to find the owners sitting at a table, smoking (gross), and staring blankly at us. One of them finally decides to speak up.

"We're closed today."

Oh... okay. Because that's totally normal. Closing your restaurant down on a random Tuesday, but still hanging out inside with the doors open. Yeah, no big.

Feeling a bit frustrated, we make our exit.

Strike two.

Next we decide to test out a new Puerto Rican restaurant that I'd heard about. It's a small place- kind of a hole in the wall- and it has kick ass window art portraying stick figure people chilling in a stick figure boat. I should've taken a picture to show you, but I suck at blogging, so I didn't think about it at the time. Sorry.

Anyway, we go in, eat a deliciously Puerto Rican meal, and partake of strange but delightful coconut dessert. The waitress hurriedly handed us our checks (I think she wanted to watch the TV I'd asked her to turn down), so, sensing her urgency, we paid quickly and left

We return to my house, chat briefly about the role of men and women in relationships and in society (we're soooooo intellectual), and D heads home.

You're probably wondering where the mildly humorous part of the story was.

Don't worry... I'm getting there.

About 5 minutes after D leaves, I get up to let my dog outside. As I'm walking out the door, the back of my dress gets caught on something in the doorway.

During my struggle to get loose, I thought I heard the sound of fabric ripping. This was very distressing to me, because I bought this dress at a thrift store a few days ago, and accidentally destroying new (used) things sucks. Especially when you look freaking fantastic in said new thing.

In a panic, I run back to my sister's room to check the damage in her full-length mirror. I awkwardly stare over my shoulder at my backside and breathe a sigh of relief. No tear!

But wait a second....

Is that...?

Surely not!

Is my red, striped underwear really visible through this dress?!

I move around so I can check it out from different angles, and my fears were confirmed.

Now, to be honest, I'm not super horrified by the fact that D might've seen my skivvies through my dress. We're close, so that's whatever.

But let me remind you that we have now traipsed through THREE different restaurants, so I have now shown my underoos to quite a few strangers all over town.

... And it didn't even get us a free meal.

Oh, well. At least they were cute.

Guess who's back?

That's right, my (five) trusty followers. After one long and eventful month, I have returned.

Settle down, settle down... I know you're excited.

I'll briefly recap for you the going ons of the last month- I was accepted into and decided attend grad school, I was in a show, I was not raptured, I turned 24, I took some online classes, I wrote 160 pages, I finished my first year of teaching, I purchased Dance Central, and I started running again.

And there you have it. I lead a truly thrilling life.

There were also a few mildly humorous things that happened somewhere in that mix. I'll share two of them today.

Anecdote # 1:

I am a teacher. Did I mention that? (Answer: Yes, I did. Check the 7th thing in my list of going ons. If you missed it, you're not a real fan.) Well one day, while walking to our classroom after parent pick-up, my co-teacher and I stopped in the office to grab our pay stubs. As we walked, she mentioned how sad it made her to see the amount she loses to taxes every month. Now, to be perfectly honest with you, I'm terrible at being an adult. I never check my pay stubs. Someone could be stealing hundreds of dollars from me, and I would never know it. If there is any amount of money deposited into my bank account every other Friday, I am a happy girl.

Anyway, upon hearing this, I decided I would try to look super mature and grown up by opening my envelope, looking at the numbers, and making some kind of intelligently indignant remark about a teacher's salary compared to a professional wrestler's (we make 1/25 of what the wrestlers on TV make, by the way... and that's if the teacher is high on the pay scale and the wrestler is low).

So as we are entering the classroom, I finally get this thing opened and unfolded. When my eyes found the number in question, I stopped right in the doorway- I. was. dumbfounded. It is a lot of money.

Like I said, I had planned to say something witty, but shock overtook me, and all I could say was, "DAMN!!"

I looked up hoping to see my co-teacher so that we could bond in our bitterness. Instead, my eyes found one of our classroom aides... and her young grandchildren and their equally young friends.

Note to self: Do not say bad words at work. Even if it is after hours.

Anecdote #2:

One of the best things about the school in which I work is its size. I teach in a very small elementary school, which means we're like a little family.

And by "family" I mean all of the kids learn MY name, and I just refer to them all as "friend", "honey", or "baby". Go ahead and judge me. It's okay... I judge myself for that.

So pretty much every day, I eat lunch in a friend's classroom, and then walk through the cafeteria during pre-K lunch to put my stuff away before recess. Now, for some reason I do not understand, the pre-K kids LOVE me. When they see me pass through the cafeteria, they all start screaming my name and getting up to hug me.

I won't lie... I freaking love it. My self esteem goes through the roof when those little four-year-olds treat me like a rock star.

On this particular day, I (being the kind and gracious person that I am) decided to give these little tykes the gift of a lifetime by high fiving each of them while I walked by. Seriously... if you could've seen the looks on their faces, you really would believe that it was the best day of their lives.

So I'm high fiving all over the place, getting hugs from ketchup-soaked children, and loving every second of it. I feel cooler than freaking Dora the Explorer.

Then, out of nowhere, one little boy excitedly asks, "Ms. E! Are you going to have a baby??"

I try not to overreact... maybe he wants to know if I ever plan to have kids! I convince myself that this is the case, and I tell him "Not any time soon!"

And then, I did a very, very masochistic thing. I asked the dumbest question ever.

"Why? Does it look like I'm going to have a baby?"

In that moment, my self esteem was like Wile E. Coyote right after he runs off of a cliff. He knows the fall is coming, but there's this awkward moment when he's suspended in mid-air and scrambling to get back on land.

"Yes! It's in your tummy!"

(And there's the crash.)

If that's not bad enough, several other pre-K kids overheard this conversation, and they immediately look at my belly and shriek their agreement.

"There is is!"

"There's a little baby in your stomach!"

"You have a baby in you!"

"Miss E. is going to have a baby!"

And then they did the thing that every pregnant woman hates- they all started to pet my stomach.

Let me tell you, preggos... it's MUCH worse when you're not pregnant.

And there you have it- the story of how I went from feeling like a goddess to a pre-teen girl in about 10 seconds flat.

And THAT, dear readers, is why number nine on my going ons list is happening.

Treat Yo' Mama Right

In honor of Mother's Day, I have decided to share two mildly humorous anecdotes involving my own fabulous mom.

Anecdote #1

When I was a kid, I took piano lessons (my mom is a great pianist, so she encouraged all of us to learn). So once a week for somewhere around 8 years, I got to spend quality time with my mom as we drove back and forth from my lessons.

One of these trips, though, was particularly memorable. I can't remember how old I was exactly... eight or nine, maybe. We were enjoying the drive home from Mrs. Lewis' house, when some young man recklessly pulled into our lane, right in front of us. My mother, whose irritable driving I inherited (and you've admitted that, Mom, so you can't be mad at me for posting it on the interwebs), yelled out the open window, "You ASS!"

Today I understand that she was in protective mother mode, but at the time, my tiny brain exploded any time I heard anything remotely offensive. I was shocked.

I looked at my mother with wide, distraught eyes, and she looked at me and said, "It's okay, Lauren.... it's in the Bible."

Anecdote #2

I got my first real job when I was a junior in high school. I worked at Cold Stone Creamery (where every day is a great day for ice cream!).

I was cleaning dishes in the back one night when my co-worker, Andy, walked into the room and said, "Lauren... there's a really hot girl here and she wants to see you!"

I was perplexed. I had many hot friends, yes, but Andy knew most of them, so he probably would've used their names. Who was this mysterious hottie, and why on earth was she coming to visit me?

I rounded the corner, wiping my sticky hands on my apron, and peered out to the front of the store.

I'm sure you've guessed by now that the hottie was my mother.

.... awesome.

When I told Andy that this hot girl had given birth to me (and 5 other children, for that matter!), all he could say was, "Damn!"

So here's to my mom, the strongest, funniest, most amazing, most unfairly hot (seriously... could you try not to have a better body than me??) woman I know! Thank you for everything you've sacrificed for us, all of the sleep you've lost, all of the money you've spent, all of the advice you've given, and all of the encouragement and love you pour out daily. I could not be more proud to have you as my mom.

Like my girl Tina Turner says, "You're simply the best!"

Anecdote #1

Yesterday I went to the bank to withdraw money from the ATM. Unfortunately, it forgot to give me the cash.

I went to the front doors to remedy this situation, but I noticed they had closed about 10 minutes earlier. I could still see tellers standing at the counter, though, so I started waving to indicate that I needed help. They just sat and smiled at me.

Irritated by their lack of assistance, I started kind-of-angry-waving. They just kept smiling smugly at me, which made me curse them under my breath. Obviously they were mocking me.

I continued to attempt to communicate that I was in distress by pointing angrily at my receipt and simultaneously giving them the "Are you seriously not going to help me?!" look. Even if I left without my forty dollars, I was determined to walk away triumphantly, knowing that they knew: I. was. pissed.

Then, a minute or two later, another customer walked out of the doors I was helplessly (and furiously) standing in front of.... at which point I realized the bank had, in fact, been open that whole time.

#humiliation