who's holy now, bitch?

Lance Bass is gay.

Like, gay gay. Yeah, he's always been gay, but he's takes-it-up-the-ass gay.


Wha.... seriously? No, no, it can't be true! It can't!


Okay. I've collected myself. I took a few hours to cry over it, tear down my Lance posters (eight. eight beautiful posters), think about the news and let the world re-settle.
Then I dug out my old "dreams" box in which I had photographs of me and Lance that I'd pasted together, houses I'd imagined us living in, wedding ideas and pictures of babies that I thought looked like our possible spawn. And I burned it.


Some questions: Is anyone surprised? Does anyone care? Is he still a celebrity? What was the last thing he did?

The answers: no, no, no and On the Line. Then the space thing fell through, and that's basically the last I'd heard of him, until the speculation about his sexuality over the last few months.

Well, whether or not you like it, he's on the cover of People and it will be the big celebrity news for at least, like, a few more days or weeks or months or something.


Little Miss Sunshine looks excellent, which means it is not showing in my town. A short list of the most interesting movies from the last year or so (interesting also meaning "did not play here"):

An Inconvenient Truth (Inconvenient 'cause it wouldn't make a theater any money round these parts. Wahoo! I drive an SUV an' I'm prrrrroud to be an Americun! Yeehaw!)
Brokeback Mountain (Wahoo! Yeehaw! Americuh!)
Strangers With Candy (Actually I don't know why we didn't get this one, most people here would be excited to finally see someone they could identify with on the big screen.)
Jesus is Magic (It's true, He is magic. Wait, what is this filth... blasphemy!)
Like I said, a short list, not getting into all of the indies that never even showed anywhere in the state.


Jesus was arrested for a DUI.

When I googled Jesus to get a picture (which Blogger then decided not to let me upload), this was the first site that came up: Jesus Dress Up! Note the festive teal nails. Nice touch, J-man. You really know how to liven up a crucifixion.

more work fun

Yesterday I worked on an account on Cooter Neck Road in Cleburne County, AR. It's so backwoods that they have to give directions to the location. (Speaking of, in anyone else's state, is there an option on voter registration to draw a map to your home?)

I overheard the lady in the cubicle next to me call "The Disabled Veterinarians of Oklahoma." She, of course, meant the Disabled Veterans of Oklahoma. To make this even better, I hear her say "I'm so sorry, ma'am" before she says goodbye, and then she tells me that the man she asked to speak with was dead.

Today we got a two hour lunch because of a picnic, complete with dunk tank, water balloons and water guns.

Yeah.

OH, so I need to report back on The Compliments Project 2006. Here's how it went down:

It went down, dowwwwn. I don't understand why people are so resistant to my attempts at being friends! Take this example: not one person accepted my offer last week to share some PB&J sandwiches in the break room during lunch. I even brought milk! I was so embarassed by the low turnout (of one, me) that I went and sat in a bathroom stall and ate 15 tear-soaked PB&J sandwiches, drowning my sorrows in 2 gallons of whole milk.

I unfortunately chose the busier of the two bathrooms, and at least a dozen people passed through and witnessed my shame.

Yesterday I was once more spurned by my coworkers. I told 43 people "you look nice today" and what do I get? Eye-rolling, "you can give it a rest", "yeah yeah yeah 'I look nice today'" and many confused looks. And! Before I could get to the last department my manager comes over and tells me I need to get back to work!

If that's what you get for trying to be nice to people, I give up!

Oh, no I don't. How can I with this as my inspiration? :) :) :) :) :) :)

compliments

I was IM'ing a friend yesterday when he said the greatest thing:

"You're my favorite person to get high with."

This guy has spent a large percentage of his waking hours stoned, so this I felt was a very high honor. (D'oh, a pun! I swear I didn't mean to!) He said I'm the most fun and he's smoked with a hundred people.

This is now my favorite compliment ever, but before yesterday these two held that special place in my heart:

1. I was in 6th grade, my teacher called me "witty"
2. Working with a girl on some project in 8th or 9th grade, she told me I was "very efficient"


The point of this, children, is that compliments are nice. Something as small as that can make a person's day. There are, however, rules.

No-nos:
1. You look like you've lost weight.
2. I liked it better before. (after a haircut)
3. That dress really makes your hips look smaller.

Kidding! Actually, all of those things are totally okay to say. No, the real point of this is that I'm a total fucking blast and everyone should experience smoking pot with me before they die. The price? A little witty bitty joint of minimally decent quality weed. Totally worth it, I promise.

Hmmm. I guess the compliment angle was okay too though, so let's try something. Tomorrow, give someone a compliment, lie if you must, and backhanded is cool. Report back tomorrow.

my blog is still here? we're all alive?

I took a break from the internet and spent the last week in the closet waiting for the world to end.

But in got hot in there. And I guess the world still has a few years left in her.

I've been catching up on my internetting, and imagine my surprise when I find this piece of crap still in the top ten most emailed list (I started writing this before Sunday's Times changed everything). Okay, so I didn't take a complete break from the internet, because I've kept up with the news (how I keep myself scared into the closet), so I've noticed it in the top ten for the last few weeks.

Basically, this crazy lady explains how she changed her husband by using tricks she learned while researching for a book about animal trainers.

When I hear or read about married people like this, I initially think they're insane. Then I find myself wondering, would I not do something like that? And then I remember that I'm not insane and that I will never get married. Unless I do.


Dog Bites Man keeps getting better and better. No insight, just sayin', on the off chance that someone is reading this and that that someone is not already watching, you need to watch it. Much awkwardness, both for the innocent people involved and the viewers at home.

Zach Galifianakis often appears in very little clothing, isn't that reason enough?


Also, Paul Dinello keeps popping up on The Colbert Report, and I'm loving it.


Let's see... oh! One of my favorite things that happened at work last week... I was on the phone with this old guy, when he tells me "You're a very soft-spoken woman, your husband... or husband-to-be is a very lucky man." I may have said "oh" or "hmm" and then he says something about how that's rare and it's a nice thing blah blah.

Hahaahahahah. I love me some dumb fucks.

I mean, I love that they exist, so I can hate them.

the saddest story ever told

This is the epilogue to "Twenty-two Photos..."

When I took my film in to have it put on CD, I had three (3) rolls. One was a roll of black and white film that happened to already be in the camera.

I started taking pictures on our first morning, in Times Square. My dad really wanted to see Santana on Good Morning America's birthday show. So we went. And we watched. And then we walked around Times Square.

It was then that I came across that which would validate the morning's adventure.

A giant billboard of Stephen Colbert, with an eagle, much like the falconer, standing on a mountain (or something).

Steam rose in front of the billboard. (Actually I never figured that one out. It wasn't from a subway grate, there weren't any hot dog stands or anything. There was some truck or structure in front of the source of the steam, but it was still very mysterious. Surely an act of God.)

It was as if the stars had aligned in my favor, the gods smiled down upon me. I felt the warmth of the sun on my cheeks, could hear the hobo around the corner singing.

Time stood still as I took the shot.

I took two or three. I hoped one would be salvageable!

And now, the cruel twist in the plot. When I went to retrieve my three (3) CDs of photos, I was handed only two (2). The other roll had been exposed. There were no survivors. All was lost.

I knew, I could feel it in my gut, that the ruined roll of film must have been that containing the blessed images.

And I was right.

Scorned by the gods, I beat my brow and cried out in sorrow. Smeared ash on my face, tore my robes, pounded the earth with my fists - asking, begging for it to not be true. To be given such a gift, only so it can be taken away.

Now that a week of mourning has passed, I can share the story. The saddest story ever told. If only I could be posting now to share the most beautiful and poetic photograph known to mankind.

But we must learn from this and move on. Do not mourn what was never meant to be. And do not borrow your parents' 10-year-old camera that probably cost not even $30 at the time of purchase.

tumbling

is the sport of champions

Lauren Presents "Twenty-Two Photos of Which You Can Find Twenty Thousand Better Versions Elsewhere Online"

I went to New York last November, um, eight months ago.... well, I finally got my pictures developed last week. (Yeah, that's how I roll. With rolls. 35mm. No, it's really uncool. I borrowed my parents 10 year old camera, it is probably not even worth a dollar.)

Oh and if you think 8 months is bad, you should see the bag of film in my mother's closet. Maybe a dozen rolls, pictures from birthdays and family reunions spanning a decade.

I knew that I knew nothing about photography, but wow. Take a look for yourself**:




I have no idea what these are. Can you tell me? There is a strong possibility that the orange thing is a phallus. Or a finger. Also a strong possibility.



Trees. There were lots of these. I did not photograph them all. That would be crazy!
(Note the date stamp. I don't know why some have stamps and others don't. So don't ask. I know you were wondering.)




The resevoir.



Views from Belvedere Castle. Belvedere Lake, Great Lawn.


The lawn.


Runners. I planned to spend the afternoon in the park on marathon Sunday. Yeah, that was really stupid. I was trying to find a way in and ended up walking the 65th St transverse, where I passed Jason Alexander walking with a lady. What an exciting story!



Washington Square Park. Just turn your head.



A really bad picture of some graphic art at MoMA, and the Temple of Dendur. Turn your head, are you really that lazy. If I flip them the quality suffers. And there isn't much quality to start out with.



A view up Broadway toward Grace Church, Grace Church detail.


A little church in the E. Village.


Another church I don't know/remember the name of.


Manhattan Bridge, Brooklyn Bridge, Statue of Liberty.


A barge... boat... thing.

This conclude's "Twenty-Two Photos of Which You Can Find Twenty Thousand Better Versions Elsewhere Online"





**Read the fine print: I cannot be held responsible for any neck injuries incurred while viewing these photos.

neglected

this blog has become the retarded sibling who your parents kept locked in the basement.

i'm having fun on myspace at the moment. actually meeting cool people. i know this won't last long.

and today i remembered another thing about my job, that i can't believe i forgot to include in my list earlier:
cookies. every day at 2pm they bake cookies in the cafeteria (they call it cafe, but c'mon)

it is insane how they coddle their employees. you have to buy the cookies, but still. i don't partake because, well, i think everyone looks retarded running in there on their afternoon breaks screaming "cookies!"

who is tom?

http://www.myspace.com/laurenstrope

That's me. On myspace.

I have one friend thus far. His name is "Tom". I don't want him to be my friend, but myspace made me be his friend. I think he's supposed to show me the ropes or something. Well, I don't need his help and I want him OFF my fucking friends list. He is bothering me.

Oh, and so far? Myspace sucks. I wrote a blog and it didn't publish. Technical difficulties not thirty minutes in. Yayyyy!

stuff and... stuff

Yay! Variety Shac, The Documentary. They say it's coming soon, but how soon? I need to know these things. Or maybe I don't. Not really sure. I do know that it is exciting.

I've heard (read) tell of this new online sitcom in various places over the last couple weeks, and finally checked it out last night. The Burg. I like it.
This is particularly brilliant.

Project Improvisor is the first longform improvisation reality show. Oh yes. It has begun. I initially thought that it wouldn't be interesting to someone who is not into improv, just maybe a good way to learn about longform. But Episode 3 was very funny and now I think I might try to show it to my family. And to you, you one guy who reads this.

And: maybe I should stop trying to give titles to all of my posts.

a quickie

I have family in town. Utterly boring people. They talk just for the sake of talking. And my grandma, she loves to talk about herself. They laugh too much. At things that aren't funny. We share no common interests, and I'm not one to be rude to kinfolk, so I feign interest in the tale of the husband-and-wife team that recently visited their church and did some kind of Christian art presentation, and their little boy who was part of it! He was just precious.

All of this pretense is exhausting.

I am starting to go crazy. Every time I try to go to my room to be... away from them... my 12-yr-old cousin follows me and, like, watches me typing an email or whatever I'm doing. I have realized, to my utter disappointment, that their presence will prevent me from enjoying my long holiday. I had wanted to spend it being lazy reading in my room, on the internet, and watching TV/movies.

You know a really great upside to moving to NY, when most of your family is in the midwest and south? That they won't try to visit you! It's an expensive place to visit, and lord knows I can't offer them a free place to stay.

So let me get to the point. I realized I forgot to mention something in one of my previous posts about the job:

pajama day

last Friday

last Friday was pajama day

at my job

at work

in the workplace

grown adults

pajama day

I leave you with that thought.

well, hello there, vagina

and anus!


My dog disgusts me. She has no sense of decency. Put on some pants! Have you no shame? She walks around with her tail up in the air, displaying her various holes for all the world to see. Be a whore if you want to, but don't put it out there so brazenly. You embarass your family.

not much new here

I have let the blog go for several days because I don't have any funny ideas or good stories to share. Just been working.

How's the new job going, you ask? Well, I think it's safe to say that I am ROCKING THAT BITCH. It's so easy. I got my first paycheck Friday, and now I'm pretty certain that my goal of moving at the first of November will become a reality. The next four months could not possibly go by quickly enough.

Here's something new: I've made Wednesday my official "early bedtime day". On Wednesdays I let myself go to bed as early as I feel like, because with my new schedule of working 8-5 I get maybe 6-7 hrs of sleep at most. So the lack of sleep builds up and every night I feel like going to bed around 7:30, and on Wednesday I give in.
I think I've come to accept that sleep will always be a problem for me. I just want too much of it. It's better than heroine. Did you know that, if I were allowed to, I could sleep for 7 days straight? I'm like a bear, it's not so much sleep as it is hibernation, my body slows down, metabolizing just what it needs to get by, my heart slows. But I'd still need a catheter. Most likely.

Today I gave the dog a bath. Always exciting. She sits shivering in the corner of the tub, glaring at me with those sad eyes, "what did I ever do to you?" But then she goes CRAZY. She hops out of the tub and rubs all over the towels that I have laid down for her. Then I open the bathroom door and she peels out. She runs circles around the house, trashing wildly on the carpet, running from the living room to the kitchen and then back again. And then she rubs her body over every inch of the carpet once again for good measure. This goes on for several minutes.

Oh, I got another issue of FHM today. Seriously, what the hell? I don't know what I did. I just know that I'm keeping the pull-out posters. They'll make good gift-wrap.