If patience is a virtue…tell it to the donkey on the edge!

Before we get onto today’s topic, Patience, (and every time I say that word, you have to scream real loud like on on Pee Wees Playhouse when they would say the magic word of the day), let’s have a joke shall we?

What’s brown and hides in the attic?............

The diarrhea of Anne Frank!

See Lindsay? You knew I would eventually represent da jews with my mockery sooner or later. I’m coming off the Blay kick and even the monkey kick. Sorry Blay. It’s Whew’s turn and you’re just going to have to keep your inner Blay in check…roll your eyes all you want sister…Blay History Month is just about over…and March is Whew month.

Ok, now, Patience (AAAARGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!)

Patience is a virtue, but not one of mine. It’s one of those things I hope will come to me suddenly, maybe in the night, preferably before I have children. Particularly because my children are going to be so atrociously naughty, I know it. One, they’ll be my kids, come on. Two, my parents have many times cursed me with a future full of wicked children who are intentionally disobedient, say ignorant things and eat all the cheese. I love cheese by the way, so this threat was directed at me. Chris’s children will throw food and jump on the bed…Erin’s children will drink all the Jose Caribe Rum. Mine will eat cheese. So, Patience. Not good for thelauralee. I have a habit of explaining away my temper by saying things like, “Sorry, but I just have very short patience.” Whenever I used to say that to Kevin, without skipping a beat, he would say, “What are you, a midget doctor?” get it? short “patients”…”patience”…anyway it took a me few minutes to get it too, mostly because I was prolly too pissed off over something stupid to get it. He was dry :) to say the least. This quip also applied to “I have very little patience”…and if I said I was “losing patience”, which was rare since I rarely have any to begin with, he’d say, “It’s a good thing you aren’t a doctor…you’d be out of business.” The good part about him thinking that my lack of “patients” was funny (good thing he never got to see me take it out in the fruit of his loins!) was that now, whenever I feel like I am “losing patience” or have very “short patience” I think of how he said that and laugh and then…I feel better. It doesn’t give me any more patience though, so it’s really just good for nothing but a giggle.

I’ve had this issue for years…it even goes back to my childhood, where my mom would have to come up with weird little awards for us to aspire to as children. Having patience, being good, not misbehaving and not throwing temper tantrums were achievements worthy of “The Peanut Award”. Let me explain. The Peanut Award was a very small gold pin, that was…you guessed it: a peanut. When one of us lee children would get to wear The Peanut Award, you were seriously hot shit and the envy of all of your siblings. All two of them. Good report cards, chores, and again, no temper tantrums were the main winners of this hot prize. God I loved that Peanut. My mom still has it, and sometimes I just want to sneak upstairs into her jewelry box while she’s not looking and put it on for a little while….ahhhh. Doesn’t feel right if I’ve had a fit that day at some point though, so I have to try and go early in the day when I haven’t been naughty yet.

Yesterday my laptop went BERSERK. Even as I write this now, I’ve had about 3000 pop up ads. I spent most of yesterday trying to fix it, it was barely running. By midnight last night, I had annoyed the crap out of poor Techie Jerry, who made countless heroic attempts at taking over my PC remotely to help me, not to mention put up with me when I lost my “patients” a couple times, and yes…there was crying. I was just frustrated. I eventually did get Adware and the new Norton Antivirus downloaded, $90 later, and managed to get a shipping fee into Paypal for something I purchased off of e-bay from FRANCE for a friend (yeah…it might be you…hang in there and see….hehe) but only after having to write the message 3 times to the seller and put in my credit card info 4000 times. God only knows how many times this French guy is going to charge me 20.84 silver pounds. Anyway, I realize that I am in so many ways handicapped, but this patience thing is a big one. I know, I know, I’m supposed to write good stuff about myself , so I don’t get “blogged down” ;) but really I am just a large baby. Seems everything sets me off nowadays. I need to go jogging more I think…get some of that aggression out. So yeah…thank you so so so so so SO much JERRY!!!! This blog is dedicated to you…and to short people and whews as well…hope you aren’t too terribly offended by sharing your lime light. I do appreciate your assistance and patience with my freak outs. We’re alright, you and me. :)

Remember towards the end of the movie Shrek when the donkey (played by Eddie Murphy, whom I find heelarious and my favorite character besides the one legged gingerbread man) bursts into the church on the back of his sexy dragon to stop the wedding ceremony between Princess Fiona (who is now an ogre) and Price Farquaad (played eloquently by John Lithgow)? He busts right through that stained glass window…and stands atop the head of the fierce but loveable Dragon and says:

“Look out everybody! I'm a donkey on the edge!"

Welp, given this whole patience issue and my love of the Donkey, I’ve realized, I am in fact, a donkey on edge! So Look out everybody! There…that’s all :) Just a friendly warning to my “patients”. (oh by the way you don’t have to scream when I spell it “patients”, so stop that please). I love that line in Shrek…it’s one of my all time favorites along with when Donkey calls Shrek Onion Boy and tells him he’s so wrapped up in layers, that he doesn’t know love when he sees it and can’t let anyone in. Not because I can relate or anything… ;) This movie has gumption. It’s is also the only other movie I can tolerate Cameron Diaz in besides The Mask and even then, it’s just cuz Jim Carrey is so wildly insane, that most people don’t even notice that was her debut role. But where else would you get a movie with Mike Myers, Eddie Murphy, John Lithgow and a dragon who has the hots for a donkey? Can’t say I don’t relate. So yeah, I luv me some Shrek. By the way, that link above is Shrek’s Blog, where you can see a picture of the donkey…on edge. Also, please note that Shrek’s home IS in fact, “the swamp”, not the Regency Apartments in Glen Burnie.

Well, that’s about enough out of me. I kinda exposed myself as a cartoon loving fruitcake in this blog, which I AM….I actually found myself raving about Finding Nemo earlier today and realized I am a total child (a naughty one at that). So let me end with something little more “hard edge”, like a quote from one of my favorite movies, Fight Club with the sexAY Brad Pitt and Edward Norton…mmmm….Brad Pitt’s character, Tyler Durden, says:

“It is not until you have lost everything, that you are free to do anything.”

True dat Tyler…true dat.

Songs of the Day (in no particular meaning or order whatsoever, so stop thinking that):
Patience - Guns N' Roses
I Ain't Missing You - John Waite
All Out of Love - Air Supply (yeah...it's that bad)
Separate Ways – Journey
Hard Habit to Break – Chicago
And in honor of the great Bridget Jones and her manual blogging flair:
All By Myself – Jamie O’Neil

Bad Monkey!

Sorry for the 4000 errors in that last post. My helper monkey got sh*tfaced and got into my blog. I will never leave it sitting up on my laptop again!!! My deepest apologies. I've made corrections and many changes and additions to the blog posted earlier this morning, since after all...the monkey did have some valuable points scattered in the posting. Should you have already seen it, I encourage you to check it out again so you can see what he really meant...

Laura ;)

It's Raining in Baltimore...

This kite has come down. :( I've just been through two very difficult things in the last hour...first, Tom left for North Carolina this morning and second, because of that first thing, I had to get up before noon after many beers n' stuff...curse you Thomas!!!! ;)

As soon as he walked out the door, I had a feeling he might have left a Dear John on the world wide web, and sure enough...he did. I made it throught the goodbye without any tears, but not through the blog (you know, because things on the internet are so much more moving than things that happen in REAL LIFE). Your insight and gratitude are touching, and I'm so proud of you for 'jumpin the cliff' as we called it this morning. It's all going to work out fabulously, because we expect nothing less from you and you just can't let us down. Are you feeling the presusre yet? Dance monkey! (I gotta stop with the monkey references....I'm obsessed). Anyway everyone, check out Tom's last two blogs if you're wondering what kind of terrifically entertaining house guest I've had for the last few days (or in case you want to know what we've eaten in the past 48 hours...which I have to say, I love that about you Tom...we're like kindred women, the way we discuss what we've eaten, on our blogs. Let's get together and do our nails soon, k?) Anyway, thank you for visitng me kiddo. It's always invigorating to be around someone creative, sensitive and hilarious and I like makin up songs and listening to heavy metal played blues-style. ;) Don't work yourself to death down there and do not, I repeat DO NOT under any circumstances buy into that whole "Duke" thing. Pulleeezze! I don't care how 'beautiful' the campus is. Don't break my heart. Ya gots ta represent, man. Duck Fuke....remember what mama taught you. (I'm mama). ;) Also, remember, you are never alone. Comic relief, confusing anecdotes and bizzare theories are always yours through blogs, emails and IMs as far as thelauralee goes.

Ok...I'm so sad...I have to go lay down a lot, but first I will probably partake in the wonderous magic that is Tylenol PM. Yes my friends...sleep away your blues (hell, the pill itself is even blue!)

Thanks to all ma dawgs who hung out last night...and all you lil shietes who called out on thelauralee, I absolve you. Like I said in my comment on TS's blog, I'm like an alcoholic Mother Theresa, the way I forgive and do nice stuff n' all, so it's all good ;)

Just a few items before I slip into the big sleep...things left behind:

Tommy boy, you left my my toilet seat up. Its ok...I was planning to treasure it always by leaving it up but I'm afraid I might forget, sit down in the dark, and have my ass cheeks meet freezing water. Not cool. So, it's back down, but next time you visit, it'll be back up!

Nikki, you left your Big Ass Appletini "TRAVEL" mug here (great concept Nik, way to combine the illegal and the practical with your subtance abuse issues). It'll be here next time you come over. No worries.

To the rest of my party people...you left the rest of the pizza here. Curse you. THAT probably WON'T be here the next time you come over...just postulating ;)

Oopps, look like I won't be catching any zzzzz's cuz I just got an unexpected knock on the door...it's the one and only Nick! Lucky me! Too bad for him I already took the Tylenol PM! haha Ok, gots to be goin, I'm forever the entertainer! I should probably say something meaningful here to sum up my dedication to the Big T:

Abadeee abadeee, that's all Folks! -Porky Pig

Songs of the Morning:
It's Raining in Baltimore - Counting Crows (how apropos...check it out)
Gone to Carolina in My Mind - James Taylor
Jumper - Third Eye Blind

Jog n' Blog

Why did Snoop Dogg buy a raincoat?.................................Fa Drizzle

WHY is this hilarious to me right now? Well, the Tominator and I just went for a long jog and we're on an aerobic high. ;) There's nothing quite like a good rigorous jog to make you feel creative. As soon as we finished, I rushed over to the lap-top and flung it open as he flipped open his guitar case and we both lit up like lightbulbs as he started to pluck away and I said, "I've got to write something...if that's ok with you." as he simultaneosly says, "I've got to play guitar, so mind if I lay on the floor here and play while you write?" Then we had a good hearty laugh at the creativity explosion that was about occur in my livingroom! It was exhilirating I tell you. I figured that during this creative production, I would pop on to blogger and maybe get in a few words (dont worry- nothing philosophical) before it wore off and we were back to watching Back to the Future II and III in succession and being utterly lazy. So as I sit here and peck away at these keys, he's sitting here playin his lil heart out...it's good stuff! Two right-brained feelers just whippin up some brain candy. I express my random musings now as a 'play-by-play' of this inspirational happy-hour.

Songs he's singing and playing:

Ice Cream Man - Van Halen with David Lee Roth of course...he did this just for me and for the record, he's forgiven me for calling him a Van Traitor for lovin him some Sammy...but we kissed and made up and we're holding each other now and listenting to 5150, so all is well.

More than Words - Extreme very good...I was even singing but...ohhhh wait...he says that's too much trouble and he's not playing it anymore :(

Too Fast for Love - Motley Crue tee hee...no explanation necessary.

Sheena is a Punk Rocker - Ramones So is Laura Lee :)

Oh yey, hold on Nikki's here. She says hi everyone. She has a "big Ass Appletini" she's been drinking the whole way over. That's lovely. Ok, now we've put on the Jamiroquai CD, Canned Heat specifically, and Nikki is dancing and she's doing the routine she used to do as a Falcon Foot. They were actually called Falcon FEET, but she's dancing alone tonight, so she's a foot.

We're talking about how weird David Lee Roth is right now. What do you think? It's pretty much a universal opinon that he's a nut, right? Tom told us a sotry of how his friend met and hung out with DLR and he was constantly blurting things like, "Diamond Dave likes to hang in the Big Apple! BeeebbaaabedooBOP!" One time he was on the Tonight Show, giving one of his major career killing appearances and Leno asked Diamond Dave what he s been doing in Vegas...he answers, "Just hanging out at the Craps tables, having the waitresses change my bong water." That mighta finished him off. Also, where do the waitresses do THAT?! I need to go there! Though, if I have to act as weird as DLR, I don't wanna...I should just change my own (or get my helper monkey to do it!) They also both think that DLR is GAY?! I don't know where they got that idea! Was it the tights?

Now, we're listening to Funkadelic and so Nikki just told Tom the story about how I flashed everyone in the York Walmart while singing at the top of my lungs, "why must I, why must I, why must I chase the cat?! Ain't nuttin but the dog in me...aint nuttin but the doooog in me!" This was the day before my college graduation and they were up to see me walk the stage. I was utterly shitfaced. I also graduated summa cum laude..hehe...so it's all good. I mean if you were wondering why I'm allowed to act like an idiot n' stuff.

So we're having fun for now...gettin ready to go out...just three amigos who just happen to have our hearts in our hands at the current time. We're all love sick puppies. bow wow. It's why we must chase the cat! ;)

Nikki keeps trying to read my blog and I got mad and toldher to STOP IT it was rude and she said that writing one's blog while one's friends are here is rude. Tomato toMATo. She might be right though so...gotta sum this up and get ready to go streaking through the quad. :) More are coming.

Songs of the Day (I speak for three!):

Just a Gigalo - David Lee Roth
*cuzzzz I aint got nobooooody....nobody! babadeebababeedzeeba la BOP!...so sad and loooooooonley!

Dance the Night Away - Van Halen
*yes, we submit to you Sammy...mainly because Tom just pretended to play the bongos and made the noises with his mouth and danced and said, "This is the part in the concert where they have the EXPLOSION! I love heavy metal. Its' so ridiculous, what's not to love?" I CONCUR TOMMY! So this ones for you.

Cosmic Slop - Parliament Funkadelic
*this song was brought to you by the color purple and the letter "e". ;)

Delirious - Prince
*Cuz...we are.

New Moon on Monday- Duran Duran
*this is mainly to pacify Nikki (and apparently Tom is a huge fan as well, especially of the Decade video, Girls on Film cuz it's almost like a porno. Real nice, guys. Of course Nikki is in love...Tom is a Decade fan!) He's also starting his new job on Monday, so this is fitting.

Ok...we're out. I apologize for this blog entry in advance.

Blog Humbug!

I'm about an 8 on the bitchy scale today, so I am going to spare you the torture of entering my mind right now and keep this brainless (resist the urge to make snide remarks at this juncture).

Have you ever worn a color that accidentally conveyed a 'message' or cause on a certain day and you didn't realize it, but everybody mentions it to you and you feel somehow "engaged" in society? Case in point, St. Patricks Day and the color green. The people here at my job actually PINCH you if you aren't wearing green that day! What the hell is this? Every year I want to press charges (and you guessed it, rarely wear green that day). I may have more to pinch but, OWWW! Stop it man. Plus, they've just violated my very personal Spirish bubble. Kiss me, I'm spirish. Not pinch me, you dumbitch. Then getcher ass in da kitchun an make me some spicy rice! ;) Anyway...I digress. Valentines Day is another one of these occasions, as if it werent painful enough, now...you've worn the wrong outfit, you IDIOT!!! Or maybe you did good...you just happened to stumble out of bed and pick red, and everyone automatically thinks you are a willing participant in the joy that is dressing to express your support for retarded holidays. I just can't keep up with what I'm supposed to wear and when. I just do not plan that far ahead unless its for a damn DATE and in that case, I've picked it out the second I've got an inkling, that I MIGHT have a date. Pathetic. Well I have a point here kiddies, not just the one on the top of my head, and that is, today was apparently some sort of "wear a color to support the whoosies whatsees" and my coworker (the one who's voice mail ends with, "And have a blessed day"), says to me, "Good. I see Laura is wearing her red. Very good". I was like, "huh?" I mean, very observant, lady but I assure you, NO thought whatsoever went into this red cardigan. It was CLEAN. Still, I don't want to let on that I don't know why I was supposed to wear red, because it might just make me special or look like I give a shit about something philanthropic or I dunno, you never know, maybe a raise in pay (hey...you never know). As long as it's not going to involve the infliction of physical pain (ie: the St. Pattys pinch) then YES! I accept your commendation! I wore red! I am the smartest woman alive! So I did say, "yeah, that's right. I wore my red for...." and I was hoping she would start saying the cause and I could kind of say it with her, like one beat behind? Ya know? I'm good at that. In fact I bet I can annoy the crap out of you by imitating everything you say and do as you're doing it and it's so quick it's almost like realtime. But she's...nodding...waiting. So I say. "Um I forget why I wore it but i know it was important." she says" FOR THE TROOPS, of course!!!" All damn perky.

Oh yeeaaaaaahhhhh...now I remember! ???? not. I thought we were going with YELLOW for the "support the troops" fad this year...that and the biker with ball cancer. Damn I dunno. I don't wear yellow either just so you know, because it makes me look really olive green and foreign and slightly ill...like maybe my village doesn't have water treatment and sanitation. So yeah...I suppose I support the troops today. Whoopie. She did mention to my boss that I was supporting the troops and she and I were the only ones who wore red, at which he wasnt not impressed. Go figure. Seems to me, everyone else here was supporting the RAVENS. It's Friday, so people wear sports shirts and what not a lot of Fridays here, and it's pretty much O's and Ravens, but mostly Ravens hon. My favorite is the Ravenator t-shirt with this big muscular Raven, standing tall with a t-shirt on that says: THE RAVENATOR. That's actually very intimidating for other teams I imagine. A giant crow. Though I think pretty much everything becomes that much more intimidating, powerful and ass-kickin when you add "the" to the beginning and a "nator" to the end. The Lauranator, The Spermanator, the Masterbaternator ;) wooooo that last one is scary.

Ok-- I am simply rambling incoherently at this point.

This is important though: Tom-Sean (who actually POSTS on my blog, thank you very much Tommy) is arriving in Baltimore from NYC this evening to spend the weekend with all of us hons. I would like to invite you all at any point to join in the hanging out that's going to start almost immeadiately and likely with a good JOGGING session...and pretty much go non-stop until we send him packing to North Carolina for his big job! Moooovin on up! To be more specific, tomorrow we're going out in DC, hanging out, drinking, dancing, shakin ya groove thing, yeah yeah...we need people to come with us so we don't look like old losers. So all you luvahs get with The Lauranator and The Tominator and let's tear it up. Call me please so we can work out a plan. Any B-more people, feel free to stop at my house and ride with us. DC people...we're coming to you.

I'm wearing green when we go out though, because someone also told me that indicated that you are HORNY. This also means that it's all ok for you to pinch me now. Wherever you want. Yeah baby!

Songs of the Day:
Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Greenday
I Can't Make You Love Me - Bonnie Raitt (I do like that white streak in her hair...it's sassy)
Privledge - Incubus

Miss, put your hands in the air…and get out of the dumpster!

Last night I worked at Curves and it was THRILLING!!!!!!! (that’s for you Officer PH) Officer PH is short for Officer People Hater, cuz she’s training to be a correctional officer and she hates people of all breeds, sizes, shapes, colors, religions…especially those who have the audacity to actually speak to her, ask her for anything, look at her or order 3 dozen donuts for two only people and make her wait in line behind them at Dunkin Donuts) So OPH is the nice young lady who’s place I’m taking at Curves…well I am one of three freaking people replacing her , because she’s simply irreplaceable (sheees so fiiine….there no other way to goooo!) So Last night was OPH’s last night and so the ladies of Curves were going to be meeting for some beers and snacks and asked the laura lee to join them (how sweet) and I did, and I tore up some spinach dip and a 23 oz Miller Lite and it just escalated from there and ended with me waking up this morning on top of my comforter with a really dry nasty mouth, a headache and an image that would scare a homeless person. My hair was wilder than hell, I had the shirt on that I ‘d worn the night before and underwear and that’s it. We at one point decided to cruise by the 4100 club in Brooklyn for some cheap beers and drunken entertainment, which proved to be very interesting indeed! haha OPH hates people but she loves Greeks ;) Anyway, 10 beers for $18.95, a bunch of good laughs, some new friends and a raging hangover, what’s not to love?! So thanks OPH, I had a good time, and thanks for welcoming me into your inner circle…as I warned you though, this now means I can unmercifully berate you on my blog (read your contract).

So yeah, I’m 27 years old, a Marketing Director for a multi-million dollar company, I’m dressed up very nicely today, I have two college degrees, and I have a Miller Lite hangover. My coworker told me I looked like, “death warmed over” today. That’s sweet. Well one said that and the other said, “honey are you sick?” and I said, “yeah…I might be actually.” and the other one says, “bullshit, that’s a hangover if I’ve ever seen one.” So after some grape nuts, some water, 2 Aleve and some Gingerale (you know it!), I’m finally awake and feeling better and it’s only 3pm, so horray!!

This morning I was HURT-ING though…woo wee. I went out the door to leave and there was hammering in my head. I think my eye might have had a pulse at that point. I decide to take the trash bag to the dumpster because it can’t sit outside of my door forever waiting for the imaginary man in my life to take it out and so I decided to chuck it in the dumpster before I got in my car. MISTAKE. People, listen to me, I know things, get in the car first and turn it on…warm it up…take your time. The trash can wait. Mainly because when you hurl the 400 pound bag full of Sundays wine and beer bottles (see Tuesday’s blog) into the dumpster by gaining momentum, it’s better if you don’t have your CAR KEYS in your MF hand. FLIIINGGG!!!! Yeah…the bag went in. So did my keys. It was snowing so hard too. I am thinking, Oh holy holy holy shit, how the hell am I going to get in there?!!! It wasn’t even full so they were on the bottom. I mean I didn’t even know what I could climb on to even get IN the dumpster, let alone overcome the fact I had to GET IN THE MF DUMPSTER at 7:45am with a hangover. You know my gag reflexes…

So naturally…I cried. That helps you know. I was just so tired and frustrated and hung-over. I’d taken off my coat in anticipation of having to climb in the dumpster, and so I decided to put it back on, hello duh! It was snowing. So then I leaned up against the car stomping a lot and thinking about how I could remedy this situation when EUREKA! I realized I could simply make a make-shift “claw”! As I told a friend of mine this morning, this is PRECISELY the type of situation where a helper monkey/midget would be fitting. I have to get one. I don’t like to reach for things that are 2 feet in front of my face, let alone do any climbing into things or picking nasty things up. That’s monkey work! So I go in my apt, get 2 wire hangers and form a long claw and I only have to lean in twice, gag three times and voila! Keys. :) So I wiped them off with what Nikki calls my “walking pharmacy” of antibacterial things and I was off to work.

I am such a moron. And I haven’t even told you how I had to wait outside of my apartment “compound” for 25 minutes last night for someone to come through the gate since I’d left my gate key card at work! It’s not easy being so flakey guys…it’s taking a toll I think. It’s so hard. I will toil on though…mainly for your entertainment.

Ok—that’s all I got! I need to get the shizzle outta here before I get snowed in with my coworkers and no alcohol!!! Talk about a nightmare! Where are all my commenters? I know you are reading because you tell me individually. Come on now…don’t be shy…come out and play with all the other kids. This is an open casting call for actors to play the part of “people pretending to be Laura’s friend but mostly we just want to see what retarded thing she will do next”. We’ve still got a lot of spaces open for that role, so have your agent get on here ASAP and sign you up already!

Ok—love ya! Adios!

Songs of the Day:
Collide – Howie Day
Candy Shop – 50 Cent
Simply Irresistible – Robert Palmer

Happy Helper Monkeys Unite!

Obviously I have a special place in my heart for monkeys, but someone just has to draw the line…or maybe we should just go so far in the other direction, we end up meeting in agreement on the not-often-debated topic of Helper Monkeys (sans the bell on the tail, though I would probably make sure my monkey had one just so that it annoyed everyone sufficiently).

I was talking with my friend-who-happens-to-be-a-boy last night and I think we got on the topic of monkeys when I was telling him about my first night at Curves and how yet AGAIN, I’ve managed to find a job that makes me sound important (Professional Circuit Trainer) but in reality…guess who could easily do this job??? (please see title of thelauralee blogspot for your answer). Not that monkeys don’t come up a lot in good conversation anyway, but on this occurrence, Helper Monkeys was on deck. Let’s start by saying, if you consider the concept very simply, who wouldn’t want one? I would like a Helper Midget (cuz I don’t like to reach for things or get up a lot), except a monkey is just so much less work and gives you so much less lip and wont try and have other midgets/monkeys over for freak-sex all the time. Anyway, we got to laughing pretty hard about the things we might require OUR Helper Monkeys to do, and so I wanted to naturally share that with you! (good lord, please don’t let PETA get a hold of my blog address—between this, the raccoon I murdered and the reference to sex with a goat in my profile, I am probably on some sort of ‘watch list’ with them as it is!)

So, Helper Monkeys…Just to give you a little bit of background, apparently monkeys, specifically the Capuchin Monkeys (comparable to Marcel – Ross’s monkey on Friends…I realize I have to use “real” references ie: Friends and Seinfeld so that my buddies can understand complex issues) are bred and trained to be what is called a “Helper Monkey” for those who…well people who need help! More specifically, quadriplegics and paraplegics. It’s the “people who need help” part that I want to broaden here today people as well as the definition of “help”.

Some of you may have seen the episode of the Simpsons where Homer acquired himself a Helper Monkey (Mojo was his name, check it out!) and therefore you are quite familiar with the potential comedy surrounding obliging primates. In fact, upon researching this topic today, I found a number of references to that episode of the Simpsons and I was crying inside for the future of this country...haha (much like having to use “Must See TV” as a comprehension facilitator for all of us couch potatoes). So these little guys are born and raised in homes with actual people, whose main purpose is to nurture and feed and love the monkey and prepare it for it’s rigorous training in, “get me that paper”, “I want a pop-tart” and “wipe my ass”. Then, at the end of the evening, the monkey does not in fact bed down with you, his human parent, but rather, gets put in his monkey cage where he belongs. People can volunteer to raise these monkeys before they go into training and even receive some sort of aid. Now, before you get all excited and all quit your jobs and start posting on your blogs how much you want to get a monkey, let’s expand our imaginations to the wonders that a truly great Helper Monkey may aspire to, for example, sexual gratification.

I know I get pretty randy on a regular basis. I don’t think that would stop if god forbid, I was in some sort of an accident that left me disabled in any way (specifically ways in which only a monkey would help me without throwing up and berating me). In fact, if my brain were still fully functional, I’d think I would be in agony, especially as a man. Please pardon the inappropriate nature of this question, but it really is a good one to ponder, as my friend-who-happens-to-be-a-boy and I concurred and that is: Do you think you can train those little guys to give hand jobs? It’s almost necessary for some to ‘unload the weapon’ if you will, and you can’t be rolling a round all day with a hard-on. Plus, you’re gonna grow too love that little guy anyway…so…is that outta bounds?

So we were wondering if this could be incorporated into the training programs one day and if so, we also agreed that the monkey should do it with BOTH hands. I mean in some cases, one, but two never hurt anyone.

So let’s hear your comments on that. Yesterday it was pretty quiet on the blog board even though I did a shout out for puke stories and didn’t get any! You don’t love me anymore! Well that’s it…I will somehow get a Helper Monkey and that’ll show you!!! We’ll be writing my blogs together and hanging out, and going for long walks and getting Chipotle and then naturally we will fall in love and give each other manual release and then lay there and giggle and hold each other like only two primates could ;) I would also teach it to throw up on people, since I am finding that’s a service I cant seem to find in a friend nowadays.

When I am done with my Helper Monkey and I’ve reached ‘Self Actualization’… I will drop him off, much like Homer did, at the nearest clinic. He will now be fat and lazy and an alcoholic, and he will surely crawl his little fat ass up to the talking machine and type: “Help Mojo”.


Songs of the Day:
Hand Job – Barbee Killed Ken
Jungle Love – Steve Miller Band
We Are the World – Banaid (I dunno…I just felt like the whole Helper Monkey conversation was slightly reminiscent of a cause…one that bands would form to raise money for. The American Helper Monkey Handjob Association of America…no wait…International…cuz we need some countries to give us the monkeys.)

You got the bottle, I got the cup, come on everybody, let’s get….

Naked? No…I do believe it’s ‘f*cked up’, but let me ask ma boy Ad Rock and get back to youz, B-more style. You know, one time (not at band camp) I had Brass Monkey. It tasted exactly like lemon furniture polish and YES, I do know what that tastes like, thank you. My parents were on a first name basis with the people who worked for Poison Control for the duration of our childhood and adolescence. Once I ate a whole patch of poisonous mushrooms and my mom had to give me Epicac Syprup to make me throw up in the parking lot of Giant so it would happen soon since I’d eaten so many. There were a lot there! What’s a girl to do? I was shroomin all right. My brother ate 3 lbs of sand one summer at Myrtle beach and a roll of pennies another time, but he did take the pennies out of the paper before he swallowed them. Imagine those diaper changes. Erin and Chris both individually took gigantic swigs out of liquor bottles as children and proceeded to make that breathless, “hufffffff!!!” noise and then be drunk. It had taken their breath away…and also gave them a penchant for the sauce as well…but that’s a different story.

This entry won’t be blogtastic. I find that as the days go on, I am really just only exciting for one week and then I‘ve just said all I have to say that’s interesting. I’m no longer your ‘made to order’ Laura Lee, but rather a very convenient, ‘off the shelf/over the counter’ version. My blogarrhea has subsided so this is good I guess. Good times.

So kids, long weekend ahhhhhhhhh. It was a nice, but I hate coming back after a holiday weekend. What a total drag. I don’t want to work, I just want to bang on dee drum all day! Or just bang all day...yeah, that’s actually better, though drums are fun…so I hear ;)

I have something to tell you. I finally had great Chipotle on Friday and it was amazing…so hot. It had been a while since I’d had it as you all know and I tried to practice Chipotle abstinence, but I was just there and in the moment and we got all swept up in one another and we just went crazy. I think you know, it was in my mouth in no time at all, filling me up…omg I am so weird, I have to stop now. haha I of course think this is funny but I am warped.

So, the title of today’s blog stems from the not so tall tale you are about to hear from the serial yakker. Nik and I went and looked at our new place on Sunday (which by the way is AWESOME and you are all invited over like the minute we move in!) and I should have known this day was going to be weird anyway, because Nikki apparently had the Ebola virus in her eye, or what she was thinking might be dirt or something, and it got under her contact and within 30 mins had her looking like One-Eyed Willy cept without the rich-stuff. She wasn’t happy about it either, considering she could only see the new place out of one eye, not to mention it was progressively getting worse and it continued for hours on end until finally we brought her back some saline solution and an eye patch. It wasn’t so much because we were tired of being looked at out of one eye (this is uncomfortable for some) but rather, so I could tell her that they ran out of solution but, “Here is your eye-patch Capt Ron!” She didn’t really laugh, but rather proceeded to not be happy about the solution being absent (which we did quickly tell her we were kidding) but she did in fact put on the patch and then began to justify to us in a very serious fashion how this is actually a good idea and helpful for her eye and just overall, the holistic solution to the freaky painful eye dilemma. All the while…she’s wearing the eye patch. hahaha It was hard to take mad-eye moody seriously with this adornment, but it did eventually come off. She left it at my house, so if anyone ever needs an eye patch or wants to play Pirates with me or something, then swing on by and I’ll hook you up…save you $2.59.

Ok, so that was incident #1. Incident #2 was the two supreme pizzas that magically made their way into my front door. Ok, I love me sum pizza, who doesn’t? but 1) I don’t eat it much (or not as much as I’d like) and 2) I’ve never had pizza with everything on it. Never. I’m a simple pizza girl. Lots of things happening at once, tend to confuse me and my body, not to mention I have the digestive system of a 75 year old man. Incident #3 was the massive amounts of wine I bought and then continued to consume like Gatorade. I bought 2 bottles, one industrial size and one regular. Had a great night…lots of fun and decided to go to bed but then my body decided that instead I should run downstairs as fast as I could to commence puking. Yes, I yakked. I yakked all that pizza up (so that pizza might not count calorie-wise, but the pizza I ate the next day like the moron I am will). But alas, don’t fret! There is good news yet! If you aren’t sufficiently grossed out, let me continue. I wanted Nikki to be witness to this yakperience with me, because nothing says, “I love you, thanks for coming over.” more than throwing up. So she does get involved and, this is the climax…ask her, she will share in the glorious news with you! I might have to credit the pizza a little for this accomplishment, but there was NO scream-barfing! Yey! My ex-favorite extreme sport! As it’s been posted on here, I have a reputation for being the loudest puker you will ever know, who throws up with such force that I have emerged from cinderblock bathrooms with little hickeys from straining and welcomed back to the party by Nikki yelling “I need a young priest and an old priest! The power of Christ compels you!” and flailing her arms in what I think might be the sign of the cross. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it since I am such a negligent Catholic. So yeah, hooray for me! It was quiet. She praised me afterwards and said that was the quietest she’s ever heard it and she’s so proud…oh and here’s some water.

So yeah—I was a bit hung-over yesterday but obviously I had no aversion to the pizza, because any logical person would again eat something that made them bow to the porcelain God the night before. I just 86ed the 40 gallons of wine this time and we were golden. So that’s the barf saga of the week (I hope). Please write me your puke stories on my comments! I want to hear! If I go on there tomorrow and it’s all stories of me throwing up, I’m not going to be impressed. haha just a warning! (or is this just an invitation…or double dog dare?)

One last incident to complete the bizarre incidents of this weekend…well not an incident, but just a total Laurathing to do. So I had some people over on Sunday and we partied, we laughed, we puked (some of us) and it was a late night so I had decided that since they were all of work the next day, I would call out that day. So I get up at 6:30am and call in and leave a message for our HR Director that I would be out and call me on my cell if they needed anything. Well I proceeded to have a pizza and Gingerale filled day, and was thinking it was quite odd that they hadn’t called me one during the whole day, but I put it out of my mind. So today I come in…I do the guilty ‘I took off work because I got drunk” tip-toe into my office and laid low. This afternoon I get a call from the HR lady saying that she’d just now gotten my voicemail and that I don’t need to worry about filling out a vacay slip because our offices were CLOSED yesterday for the holiday! I then accuse her of pulling my leg. But it’s true! I had off yesterday and I didn’t even KNOW! I was like hatin on my job all weekend unjustly. So, to my job, I say, I’m sorry. I love you jobby. Forgive me. Me not so smart. Who does this? I am so out of the loop it’s not even funny.

Lastly, last night was my first night working at Curves. It was easy, a little boring but a little bit awesome. I was trying to find out ways in which I could sneak in a workout while I was working, and it turns out that they actually encourage that! It’s not mandatory, but they encourage it. So basically I am going to get paid to work out and walk around and socialize. How phat is that? Speaking of fat, I have gained too much weight over the holidays and I should receive 40 whacks, but instead I will just start hanging out at the gym like Jemima J or something (the chicks know who I am talking about here). Basically someone who was obsessed with working out and also quite mental but beautiful…is this not me? :)

I hope you found today’s entry sufficiently offensive. I’m sure the women did and to you men reading this…I’ve got the clincher right here: recently I confessed my disdain for both barbeque sauce and strawberry Yoohoo to one of my male supporters and he’s thinking over whether or not he still wants to be associated with me. So I give you the same option and also take advantage of this chance to offend you and say that I don’t like barbeque sauce and yoohoo and you are all SHEEP…men are all cut from the same mold. It’s a BBQ mold. If I were a man and said that I didn’t like those two things, you would probably stone me and bury me with my ass in the air so people could kick it a lot. But for now I think it will just make you think less of me, which was the whole intention of the blog anyway, so did I accomplish this mission? Let me know! You’re comments are “appreciated”.

Ok jokers…I’m outta here. Peace and puking to you all…

Oh and by the way: do check out the Chipotle website, espceially their ads...heelarious!

Things I Am Thankful For:
People who pass-out in the middle of some specific activity (this is always good for a laugh)
Aleve
Gingerale (hey, I mean it today…it makes your belly not hurt so bad when you drink a river of wine)
Eye patches (good for parties and covering up mutated eyes)

Songs of the Day:
My Own Worst Enemy – Lit (purrrrrfect)
Party Til You Puke – Saxon
Blue Comb ‘78 – 5 Iron Frenzy (please check this one out; It will remind you of your childhood. OR it will remind you of mine!)
Brass Monkey - Beastie Boys

¿Dónde está la casa del burrito culo grande?

Or in other words, I want sum Chipotle up in here, pronto my lil pinto beans! I’m cravin it…among other things. You DC suburbs scrubs don’t realize how lucky you are to have one on every corner. We Balmer hons are forced to ponder the question that today’s blog title inquires: Where is the house of the big ass burrito?

Anyway, I’m feeling Mexican today. My little friend told me a Mexican anecdote the other night and let’s see if I can get it right. If not, well, then you can call me a stupid Mexican and we’ll just move on to the next topic (but secretly I will be happy since I was feeling Mexican and you only confirmed it).

He said, “I was in a car accident a few years ago in Mexico, and I had to have a metal plate put in my head, by a Mexican doctor. And Im in the hospital in Mexico being prepped for surgery and just as the anesthesia is putting me out, I hear this Mexican doctor say "be careful... this plate is hot".

Hardy harr harr…I think I got it right. I’m sure he’ll let me know if I blew it….he always does ;)

So Mexicans. Remember Chi-Chis? That was all we used to have before all these Don Pablos and South of the Borders and Rios sprung up. It was just Chi-Chis and that’s it. With that crappy Velveeta cheese they used to use and enough rice and beans to feed Southern California’s Mexican population and…of course, you had to have gone at least once on your birthday to Chi-Chis. Ahhhhh...fried ice cream, a crappy sombrero that surely had everyone’s lice in Glen Burnie in it, and the Chi-Chis birthday song: (a hem…let me tune my voice…meee meee meee!!!)

Happy happy happy birthday!
Happy happy happy birthday!
Happy happy happy birthday
To you, to you, to you, Ole!

And then…as quickly as they placed the sombrero atop your head, it was whisked away, whilst seven disgruntled teenage waiters with raging acne, left your table to get back to giving everyone shitty service. “Here’s your fried ice cream.” And you know, they all sang so monotone…there was no enthusiasm whatsoever, like REAL Mexicans would have displayed. AREBA! Thank god for my family being a bunch of goofy actors and singers, or else that song never would have been done right. We sang it with gusto! ¡Tráigalo en chupadores! I will sing this it to you sometime…although you’ve prolly heard it, as I leave it on all friends’ and family’s’ voice mails on their birthday (and sometimes not). But, trabajo bueno! I like that Chi-chi-s made up their own song. It was so SPICY! Caliente!

Ok so again, not much to write about today, obviously. This weekend is going to be telling for me. I have a lot of little loose ends to tie up for my big move, some responsibilities to get on, and some personal relationships, that are budding, that I’m going to be watching like a damn HAWK! Kidding ;) Just…we’ll see. I doubt I will be blogging in my pants on Monday and crying to you all about the woes that are my pathetic existence, but then again…aren’t you expecting it?

I leave you with this chicos and chicas…enjoy! And have a burrito on me tonight. Maybe I will see ya at Chipotle. They KNOW me there, so stick with me and I will get you a discount…the “special brown” discount. ;) Dig?


I don’t see anything? Do you? Golly, those border police really do have an eye for the obscure…hmmm…


.
One tequila, two tequila, three tequila…BORDER. How f*cked up did this hombre have to get to actually get inside of a car seat? He’s glazy…loco!

Oh well, don’t knock him…that’s how I got in! Gracias amigos for the use of your country! May I make you a margarita? POOF! You’re a margarita!

love and burritos,
me

Songs of the Day:
Mexico – James Taylor
You Make Me Fee Like Dancin – Leo Slayer
Let’s Get It On – Marvin Gaye (I know…how trite)
Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m Yours – Stevie Wonder

Thank you very much, MRS. Roboto!

Hey, ya know when you’re about to go on a trip where you’ll be in the car for long time, or maybe at an amusement park all day or hiking or something (cuz I hike a lot in my spare time) and you know you probably won’t have access to a bathroom for awhile, and so you should probably get all your “business” done forcibly while you still have a flushable toilet with no line…but you really don’t have to go, but know that if you just really concentrated for like 5 minutes, you could, maybe? Well…the fruit of that labor is my blog entry today. As is the process by which it was produced. I just don’t have much to write about today and I screwed off all day acting all goo-goo and now, it’s 5pm and I gotta hurry my arse outta here so I can tear it up and get crazy-whack-funky at happy hour! So I’m gonna go ahead and try and squirt this one out real quick before I go hiking. Or drinking…whichever you prefer. Jogging even…

First off, I’d like to dedicate this special edition blog to a phantasmagoric person...a person who is so sexy and sweet and reliable and so hilarious and warms my heart and listens to all my stories and reciprocates with equally awesome anecdotes and tidbits of gossip. This person is the light of my life (today) and helped me out recently in such a major way, I feel the need to send out this love song and dedication to that special someone. I bet you think it’s you don’t you? You’re all like, “omg, she means me, I know it!” Well yes, you are all special and all of the above is true about you too, to a certain extent that I shall not reveal until I pass into the next realm and you have to hear it from my estate lawyer in my last will and testament. Don’t worry I will make it comical. Probably like a scavenger hunt or a haiku or something…I dunno, still working on that idea. Ok, back on topic A.D.D. girl!!! Today’s lucky number is: 696969696969! That’s right, it’s you HEATHER HOLLEY! Wooo hooo! Tell her what she’s won…

My eternal love and affection and adoration and I think she’s a friggin techie genius and she looks hot as hell when she’s doin it (helping me I mean). My laptop was frigid last night, my friends. I tried to turn him on, and he wasn’t having any parts of it. Typical night for Laura…shot down again. Now I got a raging case of blue ovaries. owww! So yeah, I’m pressing the power button and nada. So I press it real hard, cuz that makes sense. So then I press it down so hard and hold it until the tip of my finger is white and bent at an unnatural angle and the rest of it is blood red (it still hurts, and it’s my ‘special finger’ so that sucks) and nothing. So I threw a fit. STILL NOTHING! I mean I especially thought that would work. But not :( So I knew the only possible thing to do was to bring it to work today and make it someone else’s problem, mainly Heather, since she solves all my problems. It’s a tough job, quite the tribulation hodgepodge, but it keeps her busy (she gets really bored, what with no friends and that BO problem…pyeww). So long story short, I ask her to help me fix it and she immediately knows the problem and all the solutions and gives it to me in that slow, overly elaborated way, similar to a step-by-step process one might use to explain to a 5 year old how to tie her shoe. So after our “loop, swoop and pull” tutorial, damn if that bitch didn’t start right up! (the laptop, not HB) So Heather, you are a gift straight from Allah and I kneel 5 times a day (facing New York City of course) and praise you. MWHHAA!!! Thank you sweetie! Another gross display of twenty-something tantrums narrowly avoided thanks to you again. Now everyone, tell her how much you love her. Go on…tell her!

Ok that’s all I got. “Annnnnd I’m spent!” (Austin Powers…yeaaaah baby!) I just wanted to thank the Bails for her act of heroism today. You all know how technologically retarded I can get. Heather also taught me how to write the HTML code for this blog, and I threw two huge gigantic fits during the tedious process that she also quelled. I yelled, “ I f*cking quit! Blogs are dumb! I’M DUMB!” to which she responded, “noooo…calm down sweetie, you’re not quitting, you’re not dumb…ok, now…loooooop…swooooop…and PULL!” ;)

So yeahhhhh…my reputation precedes me always with electronics. Case in point:

“I’ont know quite how ta say dis hon, but we ain’t got no DVD!”

You guys know what I’m talkin about…

Ok…off to beergoggle! tee hee... Bye kids!

Things I Am Thankful for Today:
Heather
Instant messenger
Heather!!!
(Yeah…you saw it…twice. ;) Speaking of seeing double, I gotta get out of here!)

Songs of The Day:
Shout – Tears for Fears (shout! shout! let it all out!)
Baby’s Got a Temper – Prodigy
Wind Beneath My Wings – Heather…whoops I mean Bette Midler
Me STILL Soooo Horny – combination of The Laura Lee and 2 Live Crew
Shake Ya Rump – Beastie Boys ;)

Wherz the Beef?! I want to treasure every moment of it!

I want sum luvin!!! I’m a freak in heat…a dog without warnin…

I may be the one who wants sum, but I know someone who already got sum! Lindsay's blog indicates that she had double the pleasure, double the fun last night! Woo hoo! Props my HOme girl! Emphasis on the HO. Way to gedder done! Hope you were careful! (hey…it’s what you’d say to me.) Well it’s hump day folks and guess what I wanna do???

Those of you who answered, “knit” are cruisin for a bruisin! I used to do that a lot when I was a kid, according to my Dad. Along with: skatin on thin ice, burning the candle at both ends and askin for trouble. And you ask where I got my creativity and penchant for clichés? It’s genetic. The hardest thing with hearing those little "Robertisms" was not laughing when he said it. I mean he was dead serious. How do you not laugh at a warning that rhymes? Cruisin for bruisin? Come on! Kinda like this:

Curley: “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!”
Moe: “Funny, eh?”
Curley: “Yeah!”
Moe: “Well laugh this off!”
Sfx: WHAP!
Curley: “Ohh, ohh, ohh, ohh!”

To be honest, I don’t really feel that Curley was cruisin for a bruisin there, do you? Moe’s a dickhead. Wanna hear it yourself to get a better idea? click here! Thanks C. Lee Killa-bee for the link! You’re my favorite brother.

Ok…what will take my mind off of sex if The Three Stooges didn’t work?…hmmm…oh, I’ve got it! How about the email I just got, or no, excuse me, FORWARD that just appeared in my inbox. Do you think that the sender might actually think I don’t have any real appreciation for time? Whatever! It’s not like I write my blog and talk on AIM all day when I’m supposed to be working…sheesh! Well, she obviously thought it noteworthy to forward, which we all know, only important stuff gets forwarded on email, so let’s check it out, shall we? I of course will put my comments in pink. Pink is hot.

To realize the value of a sister, ask someone who doesn't have one.
(how would they know if they didn’t have one? maybe I missed the point…)
To realize the value of ten years, ask a newly divorced couple.
(don’t even think about it. I wont laugh…that hard at least)
To realize the value of four years, ask a graduate.
(who graduates in 4 years anymore?)
(ok enuff with the ‘to realize’s…you get the point…)
The value of one year, ask a student who has failed a final exam.
(don’t ask that idiot anything! he obviously cannot answer questions correctly.)
The value of one month, ask a mother who has given birth to a premature baby.
(I fear anything I say here will be grossly inappropriate knowing me, so I will skip it…)
The value of one week, ask an editor of a weekly newspaper.
(not! try asking a woman on the rag who missed her chance to get laid! it’s more dangerous, but definitely educational!)
The value of one hour, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.
(I feel a craig’s list crack comin on here! I’ll refrain…)
The value of one minute, ask a person who has missed the train, bus or plane.
(I suggest that you ask them if they need a ride first. that way the whole ‘value of a minute’ question will go over a little more smoothly.)
The value of one-second, ask a person who has survived an accident.
(...or a woman who has just been with a 'two-pump-chump')
The value of one millisecond, ask the person who has won a silver medal in the Olympics.
(actually, say it like this: “so how’s it feel to be referred to as #2?” See if they get the poop reference.)
The value of a friend, lose one.
(oh I wont be funny here…I hope I never have to learn to value my friends this way. Hopefully it will just come naturally one day…)
Time waits for no one. Treasure every moment you have.
(spend it having sex…which brings us full-circle….WHERZ THE MF BEEF?!)

Time waits for no one, huh? Hmmm…that’s ominous. (eerily silent pause)

BAM!!! Silence broken! Ok kids I’m off to treasure every moment like it’s my last, and I’ll prolly eat something and watch TV to start….maybe jog a lil. ;) Call me!

PS: Yeah I wrote about nothing today. So what. You still read it. Guess what? You’re never again going to get that 5 mins back that it took you to read this. Ever. Now is that treasuring your moments??? I think NOT. I wasn’t going to make an entry into the Captain’s Blog today, but my worshipers wait with baited breath for my healing words…so to your prayers for me to ‘keep on bloggin’, I say: Sointenly!!!

PPS: yes I’m still thinking about sex. I have no cooth.

Things I Am Thankful for Today:
Heterosexuality (hey, this is my list, make your own list, Blay)
KY Warming Liquid
My cell phone

Songs of the Day:
Me So Horny – 2 Live Crew
You’re Making Me High – Toni Braxton (God, this song is SO sexy!)
Freek-a-leek – Petey Pablo
Why Don’t We Do It In The Road – The Beatles

Confessions of a perpetually smitten kitten…meow! ;)

Happy Valentine hang-over day! I hope we’re all thoroughly romanticized and glowing with blissful satisfaction today! So, I think I’m getting better with this ‘shorter blog’ thing, much to the chagrin of my fan (singular) whom I keep on the edge of her seat ;) or it could be that I am just a sleepwalking zombie today and can’t think to form sentences. Huked awn fonix wurkd fer me!

I don’t have any projects or sitcheeashuns brewing that are blogmentable, so this means I have to pick some random ass topic (yeah right) and produce my typical ‘waltz with words’ to the point where you wonder if I am so deep, I might be a superhuman-mastermind-wizard of sorts or if I am just a raving lunatic. I like to keep you guessing. Oh and by the way, thanks for all the calls yesterday you sweet peas! It was touching to feel the love. I never wonder whether or not I am loved (often question if I am liked), so thank you for your daily affirmations, my lil Stewart Smalleys! In fact, just thinking of your compassion…I’m a little vaclempt…talk amongst yourselves….here’s a topic: Crush. A bitter-sweet quixotic situation in which you will inevitably have your heart crushed like a beer can? OR The most tubular, radical, awesome, groovy, excellent ‘orange flavored’ and colored refreshment ever created by man? DISCUSS.

So yeah, let’s talk about crushes. Lindsay used to tell me when she met a new boy that she was feeling crushy. I simply loved this term, because it sounds so appealing in that context! We crave them, because they fill us with school-girl elation (even you men are as happy as school-girls when you’re crushin too and ya know it!) and give us something to obsess about every conscious minute. If you could add up all the minutes spent in the act of ‘crushin’ and then actually take that time and do something productive with it…well goll-lee folks, you might just come up with brilliant cataclysm such as this:
http://www.the-gates-at-central-park.com/index.php?cont=the_gates

Please note, that link was compliments of HH’s blog as well as a small humanitarian expose on The Daily Show last night highlighting what 21 million dollars and an unnatural obsession with orange can do! This piece of ‘art’ is however still slightly on our topic since Crush is also a phatty-bo-batty beverage that is just slightly reminiscent of the above masterpiece. How lucky is Heather to be able to see this every five minutes if she wants to? Nothing gets me hotter than orange, my friends…this is mainly why I am not allowed within a ½ mile radius of any federal penitentiary, which is simply ridiculous, but we still write letters, me and Bubba, and he sends me pictures of him in his jumpsuit (hot!) so…we’re coping. Oh and this of course is ma shout out to the blogging of a real genius, HH, please stop by http://heatherholley.blogspot.com She waaaaaay funee! She make me laugh long-time! She also give happy ending! Sank you berry much!

Ok back on topic Laura, GOSH!!! So we’re a bunch of crush coveters. And, am I wrong to say that marriage doesn’t even curb this entirely, or was that just me? I am the kind of broad that just always has a crush, needs a crush, finds a crush, weirds that crush out, and moves on to a new crush which inevitably ends in being crushed (back to the chorus…so on and so forth). So for the perpetually smitten kitten, what’s your advice my Mr. Miyagis? Wax on, wacks off??? How will this cat know when her crush isn’t a crush but something a little more along the lines of Shasta or Jolt? Which as we all know is taking it to the next level of commitment, dedication and pleasure. So don’t think I am just throwing that around. And could this one day be Gingerale? You know how I feel about Gingerale (see “Troy’s bucket” blog). Make your response really prosaic if you will. I got a bubble that’s just a waitin to be bursted, and I have the listening and comprehension skills of a Jack Russell terrier, so it’s appreciated. And yeah…I learned that word ‘bursted’ at the Glen Burnie Walmart, so what? It wadn’t my fault the soda machine bursted in the cafeteria hon. Alright well y’all in the peanut gallery think on “crushes” for a while and then leave me some comments, preferably ones that are not making fun of me, but rather have your opinions on crushes. Good or bad? Stepping stone to something more? Harmless diversions? Sick addictions? Or just an average carbonated pop?

Things I am thankful for today:
That Honey Brown Lager is the same color as my carpet
Gingerale
That the bananas at 7-11 were ripe today
Good kisses that get better
My crush ;)
The color orange

Songs of the Day (in order of importance naturally):
Peaceful Easy Feeling – The Eagles (no, not the ones who lost the Superbowl…losers)
The Reason – Hoobastank

ps: if you think I made it a whole blog with no movie quote, I urge you to think again Daniel Son.

Save the Goondocks! Kindly deposit donations in Troy’s Bucket…

Children of the 80’s come one, come all...let me take you back to 1985 momentarily for some deep reflection…

“Don't you realize? The next time you see sky, it'll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what's right for them. Because it's their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket.”
- Mikey Walsh, The Goonies

Those of us who have the Peter Pan disorder and refuse to grow up, live and breath this quote…the only memorable line of Sean Astin’s impressive career (don’t get me started on Rudy, you know I could bitch for days about f-ing Rudy Ruettiger and I can barely tolerate Sean Astin because of it, Goonies being the exception) though I am sure it’s a close second to something from Encino Man. So what made The Great One (guess who) think of this at 12:48 on a Sunday morning? Well, my lil butterbeans, I’m moving. I can’t afford this apartment anymore. I desperately want to keep it, but it’s not ‘roommate friendly’ (nor am I for that matter!) and I can’t work 2 jobs in order to keep it because when I do, I am never flippin here, GOSH!!! That, and I am reveling in the 7 deadly sins daily, mainly sloth in this case. I can handle 4 hours at Curves 3 nights a week for $12 and hour and that’s pretty much just Funny Money (your favorite band makes another blogpearence!)

I went and looked at apartments all over Anna Runnel Canny today with private renters and I got a couple of good leads, a few really weird stories and the heebie jeebies at least two times, not to mention the realization that I am going to need to come up with a least a G n’a ½ in order to afford the totally unreasonable security deposit that private renters seek, one months rent. So regardless of the notorious reputation and stigma Troy’s bucket does in fact carry with it, I will in now be passing it around for donations to save the Goondocks, which is Laura Lee’s humble abode (wherever that may be). Oh, and if Nikki happens to hit you up for a contribution tell her you’ll have your people call her people, and then I will just call you and take the donation and keep it since you are my people too.

In all seriousness, Troy’s bucket is a metaphor (oh god…here she goes). I feel like I am eminently about to ride up on Troy’s bucket no matter what I do. Move, don’t move, have a roommate, live alone, date someone, stay single, diet vs regular gingerale (which I love so much). It’s an identity crisis of some magnitude! I realized this today while talking to the wise-cheese-woman (mom) about not being able to make a decision on my living situation by March 1st, because I didn’t know how I was supposed to be living. I’m thrown back into the Single’s Daytona 500, during lap 45 and I think up until recently, my car might have even been facing the other direction until some other cars came and slammed the shit out of me and flipped me back on course! I haven’t had a ‘roommate’ in almost 5 years…I was on a different course…my inner compass was pointed in a different direction, so hell, what to do? And 2 weeks to decide…ahhhh…just the way I like it. Procrastinate now. DON’T put it off. ;) So this paragraph is littered with vague comparisons, but the bottom-line is, I’m seriously contemplating a roommate situation with the only person who can stand my presence for more than 48 hours. Out of all the places I’ve been to look at, the only ones I could see myself living in were only roommate type of situations (I don’t do basements after Silence of the Lambs…I don’t want to ”put the lotion in the basket”) And I know, we’re gonna have fun. I’m worried though because I am so weird right now. I find it hard to try and explain to her why and how it’s so hard, as a ‘married’ person to move back in with a roommate. It almost feels illegal it’s so weird. So I’m basically just pissed off that I’ve been thrown back into a life I left behind long ago and this extends to painful little crushes all the way to personal body care, otherwise known as taking the act of sexfoliation to the next level (time, money and pain guys!) You know I have a right mind to write a complaint letter and send it to the Windy City about this quandary, but it’s likely to be met with a “Are you f*cking kidding me? I moved to f*cking Chicago! Alone. With nothing.” And I don’t like letters like that. Heh…cuz it’s true, and I’m a self-righteous sheiza!

Speaking of a life left behind, I was thinking about starting to wear my engagement ring again. Seriously, that sucker is like creep-repellant. The last property I looked at today was a small home in Pasadena with a breathtaking view of the water but so small, I think it might have been a shed and I’m not into the whole Jack-in-the-box thing. Boinggggg!!! :) The landlord or whoever this schmuck was that was showing the home was all over me like white on rice (hence the case of the heebie-jeebies). At one point I was looking out the back window at the water and he stood next to me, inside my personal bubble, which is punishable by death, and said in this whispery voice: “Picture yourself standing out on that deck on a warm summer morning, looking at that view…wearing a light robe, having a hot cappuccino. Can you picture it? I can…or at least I’d like to.” Oooooookay George McFly! Neeee nawww neee naaawwww!!! someone call the peeping Tom pervert police! Apparently this dude is only 36 and lives in the great big mansion next door to this house, all by himself and it "needs a woman’s touch” as he put it. Exsqueeze me? Or actually, on second thought….don’t come any closer! He was a good looking guy too, but man! What is your problem? Yes, please…can I enter into a legal agreement with you to live on your property as your nasty lil concubine? It felt like CL all over again- haha. Who picks up women in the Pennysaver? No thanks. So why would I wear my ring again? That kind of shit never happened to when I wore it. Yeah, I was hit on here and there, and definitely engaged in some flirtatious banter in my many years with the fuzzy ducky, but I am fairly convinced that that ring operates as creepy man-kryptonite or something…if not just the mere suggestions that it would take 3 butterfly stitches to mend the cut that sucker is gonna drag in his cheek when I bitch slap him. What do you think? Reintroduce the Zsa-Zsa? or might that be a little weird for everyone ;) That’s ok future roommate, you don’t owe me for going to that property without you. I'll just give him your number and tell him you have a thin robe, love flavored coffee and look better through binoculars anyway ;)

Ok ramblings are done; nothing much to write about anyhow. If I had a life, I wouldn’t be writing on this blog anyway…it would gather multiple layers of internet dust like all the other little projects I start before my severe ADD acts up and I forget all about em. Tomorrow is Heather Charpiat’s baby shower. I haven’t seen her since she told me she was pregnant (because I am the shittiest friend that ever lived) and so I am so excited to see her lil belly! She’s due on St Patrick’s Day so she should be pretty big! But I’m trying to think of an acceptable way to tell a cute little pregnant girl that she’s grown so big without making her cry. Any moms have any suggestions or should I just keep my damn mouth shut and tell her she’s hardly showing? I mean it’s a BABY for crying out loud! What’s my excuse? This ain’t a baby! haha Maybe I’ll just tell her that I want my basketball back. ;) I can’t believe some of you girls have taken the plunge and decided to procreate. Wild!

Outburst: GO TERPS!!!! That’s what I’m talkin’ bout babeeeee! Duck Fuke!

Ok nightie-night Jeanna. You are the only one reading this and I know it. haha ;) Call you tomorrow so I can wish Mahzie a happy b-day and pop by her party after the shower. You should write more in the comments section baby, you certainly have a lot of weird experiences with me enough to jump right into the pool with all those yahoos making fun of me. It’s fun! Tryyyy it…you'll liiiiiike it! Be sure to check out yesterday’s wagers on my nightly antics (under comments).

Visit http://www.thegoonies.com/

Sincerely Yours,
Chester Copperpot

Songs of the Day:
Goonies R’ Good Enough – Cyndi Lauper
Black Magic Woman – Carlos Santana
It’s All About the Benjamins – Sean ‘Puff Daddy” Combs
Let It Be – The Beatles

She listens like Spring and she talks like June...

Hola mis chiqas y chulos! Buenos Dias! there's just something about 'mint green', n'est pas?

I feel the overwhelming need to be really immature and avoid any deep thoughts in today’s blogumentary to compensate for the inner demons that broke into blogger yesterday and gave you the impression I don’t actually have a cold little pea where my heart should be. Oh, cept for this one deep thought:

Ambition is like a frog sitting on a Venus Flytrap. The flytrap can bite and bite, but it won't bother the frog because it only has little tiny plant teeth. But some other stuff could happen and it could be like ambition.

Deep Thoughts – by Jack Handy
http://www.cco.net/~jpete/deepthou.htm

So, the title of today’s entry… I always liked that line from the song, Drops of Jupiter by Train, even though the song leaves a lot to be desired. I think that I probably listen like Spring and talk like June…it’s like a satirical metaphor he’s making…Spring is all about movement and growth and things are happening all around and bunnies are mating and daffodils are growing in other people’s yards and I’m picking them and…there’s just so much going on at any given moment. Point being, Spring doesn’t listen very well. And talks like June. Well…I don’t know what this means haha Any input? You tell me. Maybe it’s all nonsense. Lots seems to happen in June as well, so maybe the point is that this girl never shuts up and is always pulling off some kind of crazy antic and he just adores her anyway. That’s what I’d like to believe. That paragraph was all nonsense.

Ok I’m sadistic as hell, but I just love this clip below. It makes me do that breathless laugh y’all love so much, much like that of an asthmatic gasping for air. And speaking of gasping for air, without further adieu…I especially love the end of the clip, “ooooooooohhhg ohhhhggg…stop…ow ow ow!!!” and then the anchors, “ohhhh, I think she’s actually HURT.” Too good. http://www.wilsonk.com/videos/atlantagrape.mpeg

By the way, I’m allowed to laugh at this women as hard as I want without your judgment, because I too fall off of things as we all know. And Jeanna I know you don’t feel out of the loop when I say that. I got three things to say about that: Short bus. Umbrella. Padded bra. Yes kiddies, I fell off of the short bus, in the rain, opened my umbrella that had filled with water as the water proceeded to flow down my arm into my padded bra and FILL the right cup, as there was more than ample absorbency in the form of padding. Then I had to go to class. I think everyone thought my boob was leaking. Not to mention I had paint from the bus on my shoe and pants and I was in excruciating pain! So I can make fun of Mrs. Owww owww owwww all I want to! So there! :)

While we're at it here, I’d like to also share one of my favorite sites with you, it’ll keep ya busy for sure. www.albinoblacksheep.com

While on there, all you lil Napoleon Dynamite fans (eh hem, BRAD) be sure to check out the Pedro Sanchez sound board: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/pedro.php and Napoleon Dynamite Sound board: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/ndsound.php

Do the chickens have large talons? heh heh and last but not least, my favorite little diddy to listen to when I feel high-strung, the Amburgers and Wootbeer song (“it’s not anyting dat you tink it is…it’s just amburgers and wootbeer, okay?”) http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/aw.php

TGIF, eh? whew! This week will not be missed or commemorated in my book/blog. Well, I don’t have anything else to say really my humble servants (or as Nikki once misspelled in a note to me, humble savants). Let’s see, what else…my hair is really curly today. It’s nice. :)

I want to go to the movies or something. Come go with me! First taker…this can be like an e-bay auction cept you pay me in…well depends on who I pick ;) Startinggggg…...NOW!!!

Have a good weekend all my lovlies! Be good and don’t do anything The Laura Lee wouldn’t. Definitely don’t do what laura lee (not “the”) is doing. “You’ll shoot yer eye out!” (and therz my movie reference of the day---BAM!!!) One last remark; in reference to the multiple sarcastic knitting orders I receieved in response to yesterday's blog entry, please see the form that has been provided for convenience in placing your orders under yesterday's comment section.

Songs of the Day:
Sea of Heartbreak - Jimmy Buffet (iiiiiiiiii'm like a lost ship!)
Drops of Jupiter - Train
My Favorite Mistake - Cheryl Crow

why do we do f*cked up things when we are hurt or scared?

did i say we? oh i meant me :(

i’d like to believe i am a trusting and positive person by nature who tries to see the good in everyone and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, but i just don’t think i am her, if i ever was. if y’all feel differently, please feel free to step in here and disagree, though you are prolly more familiar with my other more prevalent, glowing characteristic which is bull-headedness when challenged, so maybe just…don’t. haha i am an incorrigible asshole and i will assume we all agree and proceed…

i don’t trust anyone and i expect everyone to trust me. ridiculous. why cant i just focus in on my job, little household projects, maybe even some safe hobby like knitting or something that doesn’t hurt people or end up putting me in situations where i feel like crap or used? people do it all around me, workaholics really…but no…i’m always swarming with some sort of exciting sexual, social or family drama. how do i protect myself and not hurt other people? seriously, cuz if you know, float me some hope. in the most extreme recesses of my overzealous mind, lies my greatest fear which hasn’t change since i was 5 for the most part: that someone i love and care about wont love and care about me and they will screw me over in effigy and i better be ready. and here’s where it goes to the next level… it will be because they discovered this horrible trait i have that hasn’t surfaced yet. what trait is it? i don’t even know!? which makes this even crazier, but i just go ahead and assume it’s obvious to everyone else and walk around in fear of it. make sense? um, no. ok so basically i am afraid of something i don’t even know to be real, yet i seem to have no qualms about posting my biggest fear on the world wide web. haha niiiiiiiiice.

a few people hurt me pretty bad in my life and then i in turn, hurt others because i am afraid. my friends have gotten on me for years for my negativity and distrust bordering on paranoia but i always view it as a way to protect my very delicate sensitive heart. under all this sarcasm and joking, lies a very fragile soul, you MF’s! ;) well, you were right…it backfired. again. i didn’t trust someone on a hunch. i knew my intuition was telling me not to for a reason, but holy shit! am i actually supposed to go with my gut here on things now? look where it’s gotten me so far! i aint sittin pretty. so i went the extra step to reinforce my suspicious nature, to avoid getting hurt and i don’t know which felt worse…in the end it was lose, lose. and these little traumas are hardly something i cant recover from, but being hurt myself…multiple times, i'm having a really hard time with the fact that i did that to someone else out of distrust. given, i had good reason not to trust this person, but where and when did something so good get so fucked up? maybe it was at that moment. i guess this is the part where i simply let it go. all of it.

so, this is to you, you know who you are, if you are reading this…i didn’t mean to hurt you or make you feel like a fool. i know what that feels like, it’s been done to me and obviously i haven’t recovered. i am truly sorry from the bottom of my heart. it was about me, not you. i’m a work in progress. maybe one day you will all love me anyway.

songs of the day:
let it flow - toni braxton (fuck it, the whole secrets album will do)
the promise - when in rome
crawling - linkin park


oh and by the way you smart asses, that lil dude up at the top of this post happens to be a walking broken heart with a face, which is how i feel today…he is not, in fact a “walking chickpea" or a "human ass with legs”, although thank you for your input and yes…it’s true. chickpeas look like little butts.

will the real Phreakylee please stand up?!

Today gets two posts. I was talking with the Nikkster about her blog fetus that is due to be born later today, and I was telling her how her address should be her name, and that I would have simply made my blog address my name, but lauralee was taken, hence the birth of “the Laura Lee”. Well in mulling this over, I decided to check out this real Laura Lee and see what my constituents might see, should the stumble upon the wrong address…

Laura Lee is a freak! Check it out: http://www.lauralee.blogspot.com/ she’s like this S&M, roll-playing dominatrix who actually incorporates scripted parts into her blogs. Really! Go! It’s actually much more exciting than mine. I mean I talked about cheese yesterday people…

So no, that is not me. And if I did do anything freaky like that, YOU wouldn’t know about it…I would just keep it a dirty lil secret, so that you and my loving family members could find all my freaky gimp equipment hidden in my apartment upon my passing and freak out and say: “Whhhhyyy? Whyyyyyyy? WHHYYYY????!!! But she was just a quiet girl…kept to herself really.” Ok maybe not that second part, but nonetheless, my stuff would be SO freaky it certainly wouldn’t fit in “the box”. Oh, and this is a reminder girls, that if in fact I do die...anytime really, you are to come in and “clean house” before people who actually respect me find my goodies.

Love to y’all
THE Laura Lee

PS: side note, here: apparently some foreigner was not impressed with the fact that I listed my location as Baltimore, Maryland, Zimbabwe in my profile. I did this for you Linz, and why the hell does he care anyway? Get off my ‘blog’ man! I didn’t reply, but if I had it would have gone something like this: “What-evER! I am like totally from Zimbabwe! Are you like calling me a liar? Cuz if you are, I will like totally sick the Dubya on you if you’re calling me one! Sheesh!” That’s a perty accurate American girl kind of response eh? What does he know..."Yer outta yer element Donnie!"

Addendum to Song of the Day List:
American Girl – Tom Petty (for the Zimbabwean playa-hater)

Psycho Killa...Qu'est que c'est?

I made it in to work today. Shaaawing! Plus everyone thinks I am sick so they are steering clear of my cage...kewl.

So this is the part where I explain the title of today's blogsterpiece. Last night, as those of you who are faithful followers of my new cult know, I went to my Dad's house. It was for a period of time, there were people there, stuff happened, I went home (see? working on brevity) As I'm driving down the road he lives on, which is very winding and dark, I decide to pop a little Chicago into the cd player for the ride home, and as I look up from fiddling with the player, I see something small moving out in front of my car and then, under my car, and then my car didnt stop (damn car) and I feel this little 'boooomp'. Just a lil one though. I am like, "Oh great. This day just would not be complete unless I killed something." So I stop, look behind me, and I cant see a thing, too dark. So I exit the vehicle to get a better look. I never said I was a smart girl. As I walk towards the back of my car, about 12 feet in front of me is a raccoon, and a small one at that, and he's standing there looking at me. So I do the most sensible thing I can do at that point which is apologize. "Sorry." As I am realizing I might be insane for talking to a raccoon, he actually seems satisfied with my remorse and starts to hobble over towards the woods, but not before giving me a look of utter disdain and flipping me the bird, which I could have imagined or it could have been that his little paw was shattered and was stuck up like that permanently. In the words of JD McNugent (Jack Black) in Saving Silverman, "I am so a killer! One time I hit a [raccoon] with my car and he didn't die right then, but I'm pretty sure he died later!" Yes, I will quote one movie per blog and sometimes two if I am feeling saucy. The film industry thanks me, even if you don't.

So I am a vicious, careless, heartless, and at times- rather ostentatious, innocent-animal killer and just all around foul human being. ON THAT NOTE, I am however a really great big sister :) The girls are more precious than ever, so sweet and laughing all the time and smiling. I am trying to figure out how to post a picture on here of me with them last night so you can see.



They have so much hair now, there is no doubt in my mind they are Lee's ;) The old man was fiddlin around on the guitar and we were singing with the babes, and he started to play Baby Mine, the song from Dumbo, and told me he was learning it for the girls as a birthday gift. Those of you who remember sobbing as a preschooler as Dumbo's mom rocked him to sleep to that song with just her trunk because she was in a different circus car and separated from her baby, know what I'm talkin bout here (sniff, sniff). I'm a sap.

I have heartburn today though, from the hot ass-fire lettuce wraps my dad made for dinner last night! HHAWW!!! I thought it was heartbreak, but turns out it's just heartburn, so we're all good ;) He's an excellent cook, much like a brown, hairy version of Julia Child without the hump on her back, just more hair. You know this man is so hairy that when he goes scuba diving, all the lil tropical fish swim up and nest in his bodily hair. Just kinda get in there and party. Also, he has major issues with hungry little fish quickly coming up and biting his nipples. Haha It's hilarious, but to hear him tell you, you would think they were pirhana, it's so painful and humiliating (fun to watch though). In fact I believe he has to wear band-aids on his nipples when diving now as a protective layer. I would think with all that hair, the band-aid removal would in fact be more painful than the nipple biting, but then again I kinda like a lil nipple bitin, so my opinion may be a bit skewed. Ewwwww, I can't believe I said that in the same paragraph as I was talking about my Dad's nipples! Sick I tell you! Anyway...I digress.

So had me some lettuce wraps, some baby lovin, a glass of Merlot, a good cry and got me a coon skin cap stuck to ma back wheel hon! Nothing else to report today as of yet, besides the fact that the owner of the Curves that I frequent called me and asked me if I would be interested in working some evenings there, that she'd heard great things about me and has seen my awesome progress chart and that I am oooooh so fine, and let's face it, I am! So yeah, I think I might become a Linthi-scum Curvette trainer for shizzle. Free membership. Sweet!

Black History Month Resolutions:
1) shorter blogs.
2) learn more about black people. especially blays.

Know anyone who can help me learn more about those a few shades darker than I and still teach me about the wonders of blaydome? I'm thinking of someone...but it's dark...much like the back seat of Lindsay's car: Nick? Nick?! I can't see you! Wher'd you go...ohhhh there you are (as interior light comes on) ;)

Sean-Tom, I do believe I am going to high-jack your idea about listing songs of the day at the end of your blog even though you are a traitorous fool and shockingly turned on me and the Dave-man for Hagar. I mean, yes, 5150 is a surprisingly good album, but enough to turn you to the dark side of Van Halen? uh uh...I'm going to have to rethink this friendship ;) While doing that I still reserve the right to emulate you so here it goes...

Songs of the Day:
Anna Begins - Counting Crows (could this convey the current state of discourse in my love life any better?)
Psycho [raccoon] Killer - Talking Heads
She's A Bad Mama Jama (with curves that won't quit) - Parliament (new job at Curves)
Baby Mine - Dumbo