1 + 1 = 3

So I'm happily married for 1 month and 9 days now.
It was at the wedding that the questions began, "When are you having kids?"

The most often used answer I provide is: "When we're ready."

I am very aware that more often than not no one is ever ready to bring a baby into the world.
I'm sure people prepare and prepare for a baby. Making the baby's room yellow because they don't want to assume whether or not they're having a girl or a boy.
Taking every class there is. Child CPR, you know, just in case, because you're never going to be so awful as a parent to let your child have tiny toys to om nom no--choke on.
Buying all the protective stuff, like the things you slap onto corners so they don't impale their face... or so you don't impale your shins on the coffee table when running after the little tyke because he/she is high tailing it right for your big fancy screen and hi fi system because Elmo is there and maybe the kid is going too fast and that TV is expensive and you can't live with a crappy TV ever again...
..ahem...
Cooing over baby names and what you want to name the child if it's a girl...or what if it's a boy... then maybe Dan...
I don't know.

There's a lot to prepare for when having a child and the only thing you can never prepare is yourself, your mind.
I'm sure there's a slight adrenaline rush when you finally miss the first day of your period and all you want to do is buy that little stick to pee on.
You pee on the stick and some how all over your hands, but you don't care, you might be pregnant!
So you wait patiently for, what is it, three minutes... ok, maybe not patiently, but I'm sure your just as excited husband even set the timer just so you can be sure.
You get that OMG YOU'RE PREGGERS line and it's nothing but joy and you can finally finish peeing.*

Then there's 9 months of side effects.
Different for everyone, but there are the usuals... vomiting, drinking vinegar, weird habits, crankiness... mood swings... etc.
There are also the it-happens-but-you-don't-want-to-be-the-one-to-admit-it things... like scared to have sex because the baby might kick him in the wiener or something...

THEN the one part you're never ready for: actually giving birth.
You just spent nine months rubbing your belly and cooing at your belly, and you may or may not know the sex of the baby, but you played Mozart for the baby because that's supposed to make it smart...
Then your water breaks and you're not sure if you just peed or you're ready to give birth, but all hell breaks loose, you're in pain, there's adrenaline and excitement and fear, and then all of a sudden you're thinking, "what the fuck, what if we're not ready for this baby!?"
Then you're in pain and when your squeezing out the baby and praying you don't poop on the table you're making sure you did everything right and also hating your husband or baby's daddy at least for doing this to you and it's all hell for like 16 hours until that sucker has been unclipped from your innards, cleansed of the placenta which some religions suggest you eat...I just gagged...
Then you have this wee little wrinkly baby in your arms, your vagina feeling like it could easily hold an 8 pound bowling ball and in agonizing pain, and all you want is a cheeseburger.

Hopefully, that's what it's going to be like for my husband and I. So, like I said, when we're ready.

*I don't know if any of this is true, but it's how I like to think things are when you're actually trying to make a baby.

Dreams in the heart...

I had a crazy, insane dream last night.

All I know is that House was in it, we got incredibly intimate. We hadn't had sex or anything, but were super affectionate towards each other. It was strange. I remember Wilson seeing us and just looking shocked.
House and I are sitting on the floor talking. I forgot what the subject was about, but it made him unhappy, apparently. He wrote on a post-it note, "9:00 Let's just be friends?"
I was kind of upset by it, because I felt like he hadn't given me a chance yet. Also, part of me was all, (I can't be single! I just couldn't be single! Lauriii!)
So instead of getting upset and crying about it, I decide to change House's mind. I take his wrist and drag him to the bed room. THEN we start to get properly intimate.
Then the weirdest thing ever happens...
I take off my pants and basically pee on myself. Completely uncontrolled. Like it fell out of me. I try to dry it up and House notices and tells me that it's a side effect of Meth, and then my nipples start to lactate, which was also a side effect. He told me he didn't mind but I was unhappy about it and trying to figure out how the hell I've been doing Meth when it occurs to me that it's my painkillers prescribed to me by my doctor.
I get uncomfortable and walk to go use the toilet because now all my orifices are basically leaking uncontrollably... I realize the building we are in is taken hostage!
There's all these people be held at gun point, and I just wanted to use the toilet, and at least the guys near the bathroom let me know. I assured them I was trust worthy.
While hanging out on the toilet, pooping apparently, Talb and Thirteen walk up to the bathroom window, Talb looks at me confused and I just say, "Hey, Everybody poops."
I then told them the situation about the guys with guns.

Then everyone was transported to somewhere else. I end up using the tiny toilet there. The stall was ridiculously tiny. I had no elbow room. Then I climbed out of the bathroom window, I was playing on some sort of see saw type deal that actually over time went higher and higher. It made the infinity symbol as it ascended into the air.
I took advantage of it and leaped onto a near by tin roof and climbed to the top, unseen, I looked back before I decided to run into the woods. As I was running on this path I saw this creature that was gray and white, patterned like bark. I kept running, and saw again as he was climbing into the forest, blending in with the trees, looking like branches or tree trunks.
I kept running and somehow ended up in a museum and I was scared, so I stayed where I was, which happened to have been sitting on  an old carriage wearing a hoop skirt and bonnet. The only thing that gave me away was my hair.

People are showing up at the museum and then Lauri appears, sees me, and tells me it's safe. I looked at him and asked, "Did the guy get eaten by a swamp monster?" and he looks surprised and asked me how I knew. Told him my story.

Then I woke up.

Ah mah gahd!

I happen to have Sir Spaghatta Nadle stuck in my head right now.
I don't know what he sounds like to people, but to me he sounds like the Canadians from South Park.
Now at the moment I have Spaghatta Nadle as my inner voice for thoughts...so I'm basically in my brain shouting with a speech "ampadamant". I'm also enjoying it thoroughly to my amusement.

I was happily on my Facebook when I happened to glance at the Suggestions. Lately it has been, "Many who like PASILA like this." Every time I read it, my eye twitches when I read, PASILA because MY GOD STOP YELLING AT ME! I feel violated.
I feel mistreated. It's not an ad lib, there's no need to verb noun at me. It's like Mad Libs with excited children. "Many people who like... (insert noun)" PASILA PASILA PASILA!!!!!!!
OMFG STOP SHOUTING


I just don't think I can handle RANDOM caps lock abuse in a sentence. It makes me feel vulnerable and awkward.

So whilst my brain shouts with the voice of Spaghatta Nadle I shall continue on with good news.
Although my back is still in pain and my muscle relaxers make me feel nauseas, I went to school today.
I had my own customers, Americans, which made me happy.
At first I was nervous because I was too dumb to realize who Sean and James were.
It's Static Cling! YAY!
Anyway, I was terrified because I'm scared of cutting children's hair.
Little did I know that this was James' first hair cut.
Cutest. Thing. Ever.
He was scared, and only when he saw me cutting his hair in the mirror did he cry and moan, "oooowwwww". I got a little teary eyed. It was so cute.

I don't remember my first haircut, as traumatizing as it may have been. Though I might have been older since I'm a lady and I was supposed to have long hair. Where as James' wings and mullet aren't quite favored on the male species...
I do have a vague memory of Mom deciding to cut my hair and about hacking it all off. I think my sister and I had the same short hair cut. Although, I could be crazy because, well, I don't have any evidence of such a thing...
Where do I get these memories from?
Where are my embarrassing photos to back me up!?

I just thought I would mention that. It made my day.
I'm still screaming with my brain.

AH MAH GAHD AHT'S SAHSAHGE!

I can has a bucket?

I'm always thinking about little things I want to do in my life. At some point.
Not at this moment, but you know, one day. Maybe before I have kids.

I have a "Bucket List" of things I want to do before I die:

-Learn to play piano. It's something I've always wanted to do. I've tried but I feel more inspired to practice when I have a fully functional keyboard. Preferably one with weighted keys and the entire keyboard. I'm not a fan of the dinky electric keyboards that have only like 2/3 of the keys. They make me sad.
-Be a stripper Or a pole dancer. I just think it's something I should do one day. I don't exactly want to show my naughty bits to some perverted men. I wouldn't mind pole dancing in some skimpy clothing for said men and get paid for it. I of course intend on having a bodacious bod before I do such a thing.
-Learn how to Dance As proud as I am of being able to do the lawn mower and basic six step in break dancing, I want to actually learn. I want to be able to bust a move and make jaws drop.
-Bar Tend I would like to be a bar tender as well. I am aware it's something I would have to go to school for, but it is a future goal...

Those are pretty much some of the things I want to do. I mean, there are other things like buying a house, having children, owning my own business, etc, but these are just things I want to do....

Fish sticks and tater tots

I probably think you're better than me. Also cooler than me.

Never mind that I have done some simply mind blowing things in my life.
For instance:
I moved to Helsinki, Finland from Savannah, GA.
The deep south. Oh how I miss it.
How I long for fried chicken and collard greens with corn bread and sweet tea. Road side boiled peanuts...

I made the mistake of using the word, "grits", here in Finland.
"Grapes?" he asks. No... "grits." "Grapes remind me of that grapefruit..." "No...grits. G-R-I-T-S" "Yes...grapes..."
I almost lost my mind. Thank goodness he wanted to say good bye to his grand daughter and smoke a cigarette.
Never saying "grits" in Finland ever again.

The only thing I have is fish sticks and "tater tots" which aren't really tater tots. They're these little potato rounds with onion. They're tasty all the same, but they're not tater tots.

So I am always reading other blogs and I feel like I have nothing to say. I don't think I'm as cool or as interesting or have anything so much fun to say as they do.
I'm trying real hard though.
I am also skeptical about posting my poetry on my blog because it's pretty fucking awesome poetry and I'm worried you'll steal it and claim it as your own. Asshole.

So, I'm going to write about my childhood which, if I think real hard, I can remember it. I was at one point so sure that I had it completely blocked out and all I could remember were the stories my parents told me and what I saw on our home videos which are no longer functioning. Because, honestly, they're VHS tapes. They got destroyed with age.
I remember the huge video camera that was used.
I remember my brother used it. I specifically remember this video clip, which will be told as a story, because there is no longer the video clip:
My dad was knocking down the brick wall between the private bedroom patio and the rest of the backyard to the swimming pool. Happily destroying the bricks with a large sledge hammer, my brother video taping and exclaiming, "IT'S THE BERLIN WALL!"
That's about all I remember.
Which brought a flash back of having this pink stroller type deal which I could put things in, mainly I put tree frogs in there. Because I love tree frogs.

It doesn't seem as amusing as the one time I was babysitting this precious little girl. (I forgot her name, I'm a horrible person!)
She kept telling me about "the cheese!" I asked her about the cheese.
She had been hiding cheese cubes in her stuff. It was awesome.
She also told me about skritches and about mud.

I was totally scared she pooped herself.
But no, the ground was covered in mud (what happened to lava!?) and if you got mud on you, you had to "skritch" it away.
Pretty awesome game. She always won though. AIDEN! Her name was Aiden. I remember now. She was a darling.

I also have a reputation for destroying glass tanks. Fish tanks. More about that later.

All grown up.

I hurt my back over a week ago. Ten days ago, in fact.

I was doing some garden work at the summer house. Hurt my back with the silly rototiller.

It had been a week (read, like 8 days) of agonizing pain before I went to the doctor and was like, "Oh hai, it hurts, lol".

He poked and prodded me, and it was probably (and definitely awkwardly) the most pleasure I've experienced in like 5 days. He was pressing with his thumbs to see if anything was wrong and it was like a massage.

He informed me that I had a muscle spasm in my back and there's really nothing that can be done except that I can eat muscle "relaxatives"* and take some pain killers.

He warns me that it may make me drowsy. "That's cool," I think. "I can be drugged up for a couple days, have a sweet high. Awesome."

I get my prescription (read: recipe) and go get my medicine. Based on the drowsy warning, I decide to wait until I get home to take them.

Great idea. I get home, get a few things taken care of, think about what to make dinner, and take the medicine.

I'm huddled at my computer when I've decided on spaghetti and meatballs. I notice I feel a little swimmy, and make the effort to find an "easy" recipe.

Succeeded. Wrote down the ingredients I would need.

I feel a bit sleepy at this point, but I want some damned spaghetti and meatballs.

I have a list, which I check several times to make sure everything is there. I ask my husband if he wants anything, I add it to the list. I ask again before I leave and inform him, "if it's not on the list I'm not getting it."

I put on my flip flops, have my grocery bag (Save the environment!) and check like twenty times that I have my wallet, keys, and cell phone.

I'm clutching the list in my hand for fear if I put it in my bag I'll be completely lost.

About 1/4 of the way away from my house the medicine hits me in full force.

This is only a 7 minute walk from my house to the grocery store. I am determined to make it to the store. Although my mind is in a completely different world. All my muscles are relaxed, I'm paranoid that I look like a junkie.

I successfully make it the store after what seems like twenty minutes, I get my groceries, pausing every now and again to stare at my list to make sure I got what I needed. I walk home, much easier than walking to the store. I even managed to get stamps. How I succeeded at that, I have no idea.

I even managed to make tasty spaghetti and meatballs. The medicine made me incredibly spaced out, but able to focus on one thing at a time.

That was yesterday though.

This is today. I decided, since the medicine makes me loopy, to stay home to help my back heal faster. I took the medicine in the morning when my alarm went off, went back to sleep. Woke up at 12:30. Did my internetty things, and prepared food and TV for me since I was going to take more medicine soon.

I enjoy food and cherries and medicine. The muscle "relaxatives" don't quite hit my brain and make me sleepy yet, but my body is relaxed. I decide to take a nap.

I napped for about two hours. Woke up high as a kite.

I start to feel nauseas and hungry. I feel crazy and I don't like it.

I manage to get some laundry started and the dish washer filled and running. I make my coffee and eat some cereal.

It dawns on me: Being high isn't fun anymore.

I've grown up.

If I was 16 this would be fucking awesome, I'm sure. It's not though. I don't like it. I don't like feeling brain dead.

I don't even get this trashed when I drink alcohol. I drink for a buzz, although the past week I was drinking with regular pharmacy pain killers to actually have an effect in relaxing me and making the pain go away. It was only a drink or two, not to worry. Not much alcohol.

Though it was because of that need that I did call the doctor.

I'm still a little high on the "muscle relaxatives" but I'm slowly coming down. My back now feels like it has a normal back pain at the moment. It's not as agonizing as it was. The doctor wants me to be on this medicine for 5-7 days. When the pain is tolerable when I'm sober, I'll stick to taking the medicine at night.

It's just the strangest feeling. Feeling like an adult. I don't know what to say...

I've left myself speechless.

Oh god, that means I have responsibilities!

*Muscle Relaxers, but being in Europe, Europeans who aren't fluent in English come up with awesome words.

Dream on

Last night, while in a deep and content slumber, I had a vivid dream.

I was pregnant. I was also like half the size I am now and like, 3 months pregnant. You could JUST see my baby bump.

I was fucking cute.

I didn't tell anyone though. I wasn't sure WHO to tell because this was an exciting experience for me.

Also, for some reason, Obama was there, but he was a doctor. I had him "x-ray" my belly to prove I was pregnant. It was a girl. He then proceeds to rub my belly in a way that he was going to invoke "abortion" while talking about how a girl so young doesn't need to ruin her life with a bastard child. I told him I was married and wanted to keep my baby girl. He said Oh and stopped and congratulated me.

At this point I had to talk to someone about it. (Also through the night I barely woke up adjusting, because I was sleeping on my tummy and worried about the baby).

I was looking for the perfect candidate when I saw Amie T, a classmate from Middle school and High school. I noticed she wasn't smoking cigarettes and so I *knew* she was pregnant again. I was trying to get her attention, to talk to her. I had her attention but wanted to talk to her privately. But she was being difficult.

I'm not sure if I actually told her or just gave up.

I do know I was super excited to be having a baby girl though.

Ah dream world, a much more fulfilling place than it ought to be.

Mind you, it IS that time of the month...

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

When I was a child I was a compulsive liar.

I lied about anything and everything.

The one lie which sticks out in my mind the most is one that ended up involving the police. I don't know how it ever actually ended but there are parts I remember vividly.

It started because my neighbor, Dillian, and I were playing in my yard near the trashcans. I had this tree in the yard that grew these strong scented orange things. I don't know if they were edible or what. Well a bunch had fallen off and we were picking them from the tree climbing on the white, brick fence and throwing them playfully at each other.

Well Dillian threw one that hit me in the eye. It didn't hurt, just surprised me.

At some point later that day, maybe even the next day, my sister notices my eye. I apparently had a shiner. She shows it to Mom and they ask me what happened. Rather than say it was an accident I came up with this huge elaborate story that these two guys drove up in a station wagon and one of them hit me.

I remember the cops coming and asking for a description. I don't know how I described them but I remember saying that they had animal furs, like tiger fur, in their car, and guns. They definitely had guns.

We were standing in the living room. I was against the wall closest to the front door, I remember the beige pink of the cold floor tiles. I had my hands clasped behind my back, fidgeting, but always keeping them clasped, whether it was in the front or back.

I told the story eagerly.

I don't know if it was an obvious lie, if they actually looked for these fictional characters who punched me in the eye. Maybe it was a trick to get me to tell the truth, to learn my lesson, to see how far I would take the lie.

I have no idea.

I just remember telling that stupid, ludicrous lie.

I did lie about everything.

Although, this whole story could be a false memory for all I know. Maybe it didn't happen. Maybe I imagined it all up...