Chicken: it’s what’s for dinner.

Poof and I have this tendency to go out on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. It’s our default. I’ll put on nice shoes. We’ll take photos for her blog. We usually head to our favorite local coffee shop, MADCAP COFFEE

…because it’s local, it’s delicious, and they do that thing where they make my Mocha look like a heart, and it’s nice to feel loved.

Well, since this is the rule, here is the exception:

L.A.: Coffee?

Poof: Not in the mood.

L.A.: Mall?

Poof: Sure. I want a root beer float.

L.A.: …

L.A: …

L.A.: …pregnant?

Poof had this thing when she was pregnant with LittlePoof where she always craved root beer floats. It was her food. My weakness when I was pregnant?

The good kind, not like the awkwardly shaped nuggets.

Cue to eating lunch yesterday.

Me: I’ll have the chicken tenders basket, please.

Mom: Didn’t you just get chicken tenders the other day?

Me: Yes.

Mom: And you want it again?

Me: I like chicken.

Boo: I like chicken too!

Mom: *Forceful Gaze*

Me: I’m not.

Mom: *Cynical Squinting*

Me: No, but really.

Mom: *James Marsden’s Character in X-Men*

Me: BUT FOR SERIOUS.

Mom: *Jedi Mind Trick*

Me: I HAVE ONE ALREADY.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you “Why I have added giving up Chicken Fingers to my lenten promise.”

We’re the Cougars, obvi.

Dad: Where are you off to?

Me: Dinner with the ladies.

Dad: Which ladies?

Me: The ladies. CoSi and FunSized.

Dad: Oh. Those ladies. You have a lot of ladies.

Me: I don’t even. You know CoSi and FunSized. I’ve known them so long.

Dad: Yes, but that doesn’t mean I knew which ladies you were talking about.

Me: The ladies. The high school ladies. The CC ladies. The cougar ladies.

Sign outside of CoSi, FunSized, and my old high school.

Sign outside of CoSi, FunSized’s, and my old high school.

Dad: …

Me: That’s excellent. It’s going to be so great when we’re old because we’ll go out to dinner and I’ll be like. I’m going to dinner with the cougars.

Dad: That’s a good thing?

Me: It’s so multi-dimensional! High school mascot meets geriatric old women who talk about inappropriate topics in Panera Bread.

Dad: That’s a good thing?

Me: It’s an amazing thing.

Dad: I don’t think you’ll think it’s as funny in twenty years.

Me: I’ll tweet it because it’s that level of amazing and I won’t want to forget it. I have to go now because I’m late for dinner with the cougars.

Dad: I thought you weren’t going to use it until you were old.

Me: Practice.

Dad: Roar.

You got a little schmootz right there, and other things I’ll probably hear today

Two years ago, I wrote one of my most embarrassing, albeit favorite blog posts since I started blogging back in 2010.

The Poonch-Key Diaries.

POONCH-KEY

POONCH-KEY

I’ve tried to write various other posts regarding the paczkis and the fattiness of Mardi Gras, but nothing comes close to the Poonch-Key post.

So instead, to follow up Fat Tuesday…

Ash Wednesday.

It’s perfect, it’s chronological, and I get to tell you about this guy seeing me with my ashes and being all…

If you feelin’ like a Pope, Catholics, do not brush your forehead off.

Bitches be sinners, Catholics, do not brush your forehead off.

I hope this guy didn’t give up being awesome for lent.

"Ashies are the new selfies." -@hey_itsjenna

“Ashies are the new selfies.”
-@hey_itsjenna

the sunday currently

Friday night, I headed to this…eclectic bar called the Log Cabin with FunSized and a few of her friends. There was a band playing there that I met through FunSized – always a good time. The bar was hosting a theme night

Cabin Fever

Clever, right? This meant that there were tiki heads and grass skirts and bamboo decorations and bad jokes everywhere.

Case in point? Dancing with FunSized, up by the band?

Yes. I got lei’d.

It’s time for the Sunday Currently.

C U R R E N T L Y . . .

READING… The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I’ve read it before, but there’s a movie floating around that I’m determined to eventually see.

WRITING… a lot of journal-y stuff lately. Problem is, I keep misplacing whichever blank book I’m supposed to be finishing, so I have snippets of everything in at least three different notebooks. Chronology is a bitch, folks.

LISTENING… to the new song from Nashville because holy crap, this show is addicting. And musical. And dramatic. And awesome. And Jonathan Jackson. Tuck Everlasting has a guitar and can sing, people. I don’t know if you knew that, but you’re welcome.

THINKING…that the song in that link above really ought to be released on iTunes because I’m in love with it. It’s so good. I hate country and it’s so good. The night ain’t long enough, I ain’t leavin’ without your love.

SMELLING…spring in the air. I’m not at all, actually. But it’s March now, so I’m hoping.

HOPING…see the smelling, currently.

WEARING…UGGS. All day, everyday. They’re so warm and fluffy in  winter. I’m so ready to put them away.

LOVING…the new hat that I should not have bought if I’m hoping winter will end soon. But it’s courtesy of themittenstate.com, and it’s excellent and warm and fluffy.

WANTING…to get a sweatshirt off of MichiganAwesome.com. Because it says:

Cold Hands

Warm Heart

And that’s wonderful. It almost warms my cold, black, Michigander heart.

FEELING…Cold. I know. You’re surprised.

Look, back when I was warm-blooded.

Look, back when I was warm-blooded.

.Link up to the Sunday, Currently.

Let them eat timbits! and other things I’d say as a benevolent Queen.

Once upon a time, on a blog far away, Poof wrote a story that would be one of those stories. Everyone has those stories — the ones they tell over and over because they’re just that good.

I love to tell the Zamboni tale, or the time that my Dad accidentally left my sister and me at a gas station, or the time that VS parallel parked my car on the curb. Because the point was that the car was all in the space.

These are the stories that are still funny, or if they aren’t, then I either probably hate you or love you, depending if you’re still laughing.

I went onto timehop today, and came to the realization that there was a story that had gone untold. Two years ago today, I would give up doughnuts. Specifically, cake doughnut holes.

In real life, I tell this all the time: whenever the JumboTron gets mentioned or someone offers me a doughnut hole and thinks I’m completely cracked out because who does not like a tiny hole made of doughnut?

This is the story of the Doughnut Queen

JumboTron

Once upon a time, Poof and I made plans to go to a hockey game. We had a group of girls, a ridiculous amount of Sharpie’d posters saying phrases that probably shouldn’t be allowed around children, and a hotel room for the night. We had the capacity for ridiculous things to happen.

Hotchtics at the Game!

Hotchtics at the Game!

In true form, Poof and I began our day overly excited and exposed to social media.

Twitter: where all things good and wonderful happen.

After all, ever since she and I had both ridden the great bright ice cleaner that is the Zamboni, I’d been crazy gung ho to have Zambattle 2012 happen. Who doesn’t want to see two girls strapped to the top of Zambonis with light sabers battling it out?

zamboni war

That question was clearly rhetorical. Because not long after Poof and I had begun our early morning banter, we had received notification from “the social media guy”.

20120226-144208.jpg

Everyone likes the idea of a Light Saber Zamboni Battle. Except apparently, safety regulations and the like – which meant that on this day, we might not be able to Zambattle, but we would be fighting on a completely different battlefield.

Baked Goods.

@AyronattheWings offered us in exchange for our light sabers and souls, a Timbit eating contest. It sounded simple enough. Here is a box of doughnut holes.

Eat.

Compete.

Win.

Thus, we accepted.

Fast Forward.

It’s the first intermission. Poof and I have spent the first intermission trash talking each other about our eating abilities and downing whalebones. We’d been approached at the beginning of the game, and we knew that at some point during the intermission, someone would come fetch us for our shining moment of infamy.

The exact phrase was they’ll come for you.

Doughnut holes should never sound so ominous.

We’re standing in front of a camera with a woman brandishing a microphone. We’re wearing Tim Horton’s shirts that were given to us, because everyone also loves free advertising. We’re movie star waving to our adoring fans as the woman tells the crowd that we’ll have one minute to eat as many doughnut holes as possible.

Start the clock.

20120226-145932.jpg

Within the first three seconds, things go bad. Bitches gave us powdered sugar. Poof and I both had the strategy of shove as much into your mouth as possible [insert jokes here] because we only have one minute.

We had one minute. We did not have enzymes.

My mouth is full of powdered sugar and cinnamon and doughnut and I have no saliva left.

It’s like the Sahara Desert in here, and I. Cannot. Swallow. [insert more jokes here].

I glance at Poof. She’s looking at me. There are tears in my eyes and I don’t know if they’re from laughing or crying. The woman with the microphone is still counting down and I’m debating if it’s acceptable to drink alcohol on the JumboTron because my whalebone is RIGHT next to me and liquid would be perfection right about now.

Poof eats another doughnut hole. I debate which I hate more – losing or doughnuts, and losing wins. The next doughnut hole was a terrible idea.

Poof and I make eye contact again and a combination of laughter, doughnuts, booze, and peer pressure overload my senses. I hold the box up to my face — more free advertising for Tim Horton’s — and pray to the hockey gods.

For the love of all things holy, please don’t let me throw up on the big screen at a Red Wings game.

And then, in the best display of multi-tasking I’ve ever done, I managed to swallow [jokes], not choke, dodge a doughnut hole thrown at me by Poof, and not throw up on the Joe Louis Arena version of national TV.

They count the remaining doughnut holes. I have two. Poof have four.

I’m simultaneously thrilled and nauseous. I’m both proud of myself and mentally swearing that I’ll never eat another doughnut again. The arena is cheering at the spectacle of it all and I scream out,

“I AM YOUR DOUGHNUT QUEEN.”

As I celebrate, the woman gives me my prize.

It’s a gift card.

For doughnuts.

20120226-150303.jpg

The rug really tied the room together.

Boo: I think I’m going to call Papa “Dude.”

Me: I think you’re going to call your Papa “Papa.”

Boo: But he’s a dude!

Me: He’s your grandpa. Call him Papa.

Boo: FINE. Then you can call me “Dude.”

Me: I’ll call you “Dude” when you’re old enough to watch and appreciate The Big Lebowski.

Boo: What?

Me: That rug really tied the room together.

Boo: We don’t have a rug.

Me: Maybe we should get one.

Boo: You got it, Dude.

Me: …

Boo: Mommy. You got it, Mommy.

Jack and Jill went up the hill and then slid down it on the other side on a board and were given a gold medal for their efforts.

*Note from the blogger — prior to publishing this post, a similar post of similar occurances was posted over at Waste Of Heels, a fabulous blog written by the incomparable-even-though-she’s-cheering-for-Canada-today-Lady B. This basically means that she’s me, but in Canada, and you should be reading her post too.

If you live in Michigan, you’re supposed to do winter-y things. Depending on your level of skill, this means sledding, or tubing, or snowman building, or if you’re truly talented, properly cleaning off your car so as to not be that douchebag that drives down the road with it flying off the roof at other motorists.

From the hilarious blogography.com. If you haven’t read that blog, you’ve got issues.

Now, I’m not saying that I don’t have winter activity skills…I’ve successfully built a number of snowmen in my time, and gone sledding and tubing while growing up, and there was this one time when my Girl Scout troop decided it would be an awesome idea to go cross country skiing, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t fall then.

Here am I. In a tube. Getting pulled up a mountain.

Here am I. In a tube. Getting pulled up a mountain.

…but if you haven’t noticed, sometimes I am occasionally…accident prone.

I saw my friend TomSelleck recently, and our conversation went like so:

Him: So do you have any new bruises?

(The answer is no.)

So, when my friend Arrington texted me that he wanted to go snowboarding for his birthday, I was all…

Laura Thought Bubble

I’ve been snowboarding exactly three four times in my life (now including the recent birthday festivities).

The last time I went, while attempting to figure out this “tow rope,” I fell.

That’s right.

Not coming down the mountain, but attempting to go up the damn thing. I fall within the first seconds of holding on to this rope, and since we had decided to try snowboarding on Christmas Eve, the place was basically deserted. No one was around to give me advice or maybe tell me,

DO NOT CONTINUE TO HOLD ONTO THE TOW ROPE.

Which means that I made it up the mountain. Hanging on for dear life to this rope. On my ass.

I showed up to Cannonsburg thinking we’d have a nice klatch of the high school crew, CoSi and FunSized to maybe be as skillful as I am and chuckle the whole way [potentially on my backside] down  the mountain.

It turned out to be Arrington, his girlfriend (who brought her own skis), and me.

FaceBook

Arrington attempted to walk me through the basics of everything so I wouldn’t make a complete ass out of myself, and I actually made it down various hills of various sizes without too much bodily harm or embarrassment.

The Typical “Run” of L.A. down a Mountain on a Board

Start at top of hill. Congratulate self on making it up the mountain on the murderous rope of towing without falling. Strap foot in.

Arrington tells me to make sure that some foot that does something is either in front or in back because that’s the foot I can use for like steering or bracing myself or something like that. There is silent acknowledgement that I do not know how to steer.

Point snowboard down mountain because that seems like a pretty reasonable choice. Began sliding down mountain. Realize that I’m standing and not falling and try to keep my gleeful “sqee” noises to a minimum. I figure a deadpan face will make it look like I know what I’m doing.

The "I'm probably going to hurt myself and laugh about it when the bruises go away" face

The “I’m probably going to hurt myself and laugh about it when the bruises go away” face

Do a sort of turn to keep heading down mountain. Realize that snow seems to help with steering in the fact that it is making me go ways that I don’t think I was choosing to go. Pray that people know to get out of my way. Arrington tells me to use my back leg as a rudder to steer. I think rudders steer boats. This makes sense until another turn makes my back leg my front leg and I realize that I might not have full control of all my limbs and debate what I can blame this on when I inevitably crash.

Probably a spider bite. Paralyzed left leg. Have no control over it.

Realize I’m going incredibly fast. Arrington basically walks up to me because his normal speed is my fast and tells me ways to lean to slow down.

I lean. I slow down. It’s extremely effective. I remind myself to not forget the slowing down part.

Still going fast. Kind of freaking out. Realize that slowing down does not mean stopping and that the end of the mountain is getting close.

Lean. Lean. Lean. Lean. LEAN. LEANING.

Sit down on mountain. Stop. Am reminded of roller blading around my neighborhood as a youth, when I just jumped in the grass and hugged a tree to stop.

Did that on purpose, guys. I’m at the bottom of the mountain, guys. I didn’t even really fall, guys.

this was from the time that I went up the mountain on my ass, because I did not take a photo this time of me on a board because all my limbs were busy trying to keep myself from falling.

this was from the time that I went up the mountain on my ass, because I did not take a photo this time of me on a board because all my limbs were busy trying to keep myself from falling.

Flashback Monday has no alliteration and is not a catchy title at all.

I found myself thinking back to my freshman year of college, when I coined the…

laying on the floor thinking about stuff

…playlists that I still make today.

If you’ve been there, then you know – dorm rooms weren’t very big. My roommate 202 and I did ended up doing the laying down listening to music thing all the time. The songs I listened to back then are like therapy. Play me some Something Corporate and I’m right back there in my dorm room with the smell of burnt popcorn from down the hall and the sound of various friends yelling up at our window, because we were right above the door to the lobby.

In tiny little picture version, this is where I spent an excessive amount of 2005 and 2006.

In tiny little picture version, this is where I spent an excessive amount of 2005 and 2006.

So, I started making a list of those songs. The ones that pretty much summed up that year of life, because for some reason, that’s one of those really vivid years in my memory. I even went back and looked at an old journal and found out that Yes, these songs are those memories, and if you’re ever trying to time travel ala Christopher Reeves, this is what you should listen to.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ps1B0QCqjhQ

I didn’t even realize how much the songs resonated in my memory until I re-read various portions of Hook Ups, Let Downs, and the other Nine Inches.

Like…

Dean started hanging out in my room a lot more. After dinner, when Nicole went off to rehearsal, he’d come over, eating my food and sneaking in beer. He and I had what I considered a real college friendship. We’d bash W . and contemplate how the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s had saved us from teenage angst.

And…

I lay down on the floor of the dorm room. I had the Yeah Yeah Yeahs playing on repeat, Karen O wailing over and over.

They don’t love you like I love you…” I whispered along, not able to move, or not wanting to.

Yeah. Karen O was pretty much my best friend in 2005.

The Time Traveling List of Songs that L.A. overplayed in 2005

  1. Jack’s Mannequin – The Mixed Tape
  2. Jack’s Mannequin – Bruised
  3. Matt Nathanson – Angel
  4. Matt Nathanson – I Saw
  5. Something Corporate – Walking By
  6. Something Corporate – Punk Rock Princess
  7. Death Cab for Cutie – Photobooth
  8. Lifehouse – You & Me
  9. Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Modern Romance/Poor Song
  10. Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Maps

Do you have any memories that are triggered by music? Any songs that just resonate a time or a place or a person for you?

VD.

I did a project on St. Valentine once for my 10th grade religion class. My teacher was a nun, and gave me an A- for seeming completely nonplussed about St. Valentine’s martyrdom.

“Are you happy about this Saint, Laura? He dies.

I wish I had a picture of this nun, complete with sound recording, to show you exactly how distressed she was by my attitude. It ever so perfectly sums up how I am towards Valentine’s day.

I wouldn’t be too surprised too, if St. Valentine was in the same boat as me on today’s culture though — chocolate and hearts and OHMIGOD, I DIED FOR MY RELIGION and all.

Here, in no particular order are my favorite Valentine’s tales of my life, thus far.

 

1. My first Valentine.

My seventh grade boyfriend and I fostered a great love, that spanned two skating parties, my first kiss, and approximately five months. That’s basically marriage, guys. Love and marriage, Catholic school style. The relationship did pass by a Valentine’s day, which meant we gave each other gifts and stuff — I actually don’t remember what I gave him – color me shocked, as usually I remember everything.

It was probably like…a rhyming poem, typed in size 12, impact font.

But he gave me chocolate and a card. It was very nice, and I remember opening it up, all excited and….

Dear Seventh Grade L.A.,

Seventh grade words of like love and stuff.

From, Seventh Grade Boyfriend

Granted, he drew hearts around the word “from.”

 

2. When records are broken instead of hearts.

During my splurge of “I don’t know why social media keeps letting me win things,” NeighborGirl and I entered a Red Wings Wing[wo]man contest. 

Goose and Maverick.

Goose and Maverick.

We submitted why we should be allowed to watch hockey on Valentine’s Day.

Men are good at disappointing. There are the men that don’t call, the men that won’t stop calling, and the men that don’t appreciate you. That’s why we want to spend our Valentine’s Day with the Red Wings, the men who have never really let us down. 98 new potentials couldn’t hurt either. This Valentine’s Day, we don’t want chocolates, roses, or even a candlelit dinner. We want cold beer, rowdy fans, and a Red Wings victory. The only red we want to see is blood on the ice.

Which we won, along with a bunch of other single people, which meant that we were watching hockey on Valentine’s Day. This was actually a wonderful Valentine’s Day.

 

3. Anonymous.

High school really did more of the same thing that middle school did. Holidays would come around and we would send candy to each other to support like…athletics and stuff. I’m not actually sure where the money we spent went. Except the bon bons. If you bought bon bons, you were definitely supporting the Latin Club and the Latin teacher’s probable drinking habit because my latin class was definitely a reason to drink.

By this point of life, I had realized that I was really socially awkward, and had no idea how I’d managed to straggle successfully through my formative years thus far. I was single probably because of all those things, and maybe because I once tried to make a utility belt out of crushed velvet and the back pockets out of a pair of jeans to carry my pens and TI-83 in.

This utility belt was actually made out of my Halloween 1999 "punk rock" costume.

This utility belt was actually made out of my Halloween 1999 “punk rock” costume.

Weird little L.A.

Imagine my surprise then, and the surprise of my girl friends, when I received a candy-gram.

To L.A.

From: ???

Instead of a message, this person drew an arrow, pointing to the computer printed bear saying Happy Valentine’s Day. We never did find out who sent that one.

 

4. Nothing says I love you like a text message.

Because the college version of me was so romantic, I chose to send my love not by flowers or candy, but by text.

This was college L.A. You're probably less surprised that I texted Happy Valentine's now.

This was college L.A. You’re probably less surprised that I texted Happy Valentine’s now. Please note that I am wearing an NES wristband and have a flip phone clipped to my pocket.

In honor of the holiday, I sent this text off:

Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you!

The response:

Who’s number is this?

 

5. Finally,  I’d like to direct your attention to Valentine’s conversation with my sister, VS.

“I’m going out with some girls for Valentine’s Day.” VS tells me.

“That’s always so depressing,” I lament.

“No, it’s empowering,” VS argues.

“Oh yes,” I say. “A toast to our empty vaginas!”

VS shrugs this off. “We’ll put chocolate in them.”

 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

the [snowboarding] Sunday, currently.

It’s honestly kind of relaxing to write the currently. This is my third Sunday, currently (Read One and Two here) and I feel a little better about posts constantly going up here on Chicks in the Mitt, because the prompts just clear my head out of all the drivel that gets in the way. You know who else likes writing prompts? English Teachers — like the one that had me write about the time my house caught fire while I was in the shower.

That’s a story, for real.

R E A D I N G Millions of old school assignments. I booted up an old family computer to pull off some tax information and found basically all my school work saved from about 6th grade through senior year of high school. I was quite the little story teller. 

W R I T I N G Valentine’s Cards, to go out for #LettersFromLA. I’ve been taking part in A Month of Letters, which means I’ve sent a piece of mail out every possible day of February thus far. You’re welcome, Grandma.

L I S T E N I N G to The Civil Wars’ cover of Between the Bars. I love the Civil Wars, so when I heard on NPR that an EP would be released on iTunesI  got excited and have been listening to this on repeat ever since. Also awesome — their cover of I Want You Back is amazing.

T H I N K I N G that I really wish I had more capable video making capabilities, because I love singing some of Joy Williams’ (of the Civil Wars) harmonies. Harmonizing with me, myself, and my sub par guitar skills sounds like a good time.

W I S H I N G I had a little bit more skill at guitar. Granted, considering the amount of time I’ve dedicated to it, I’m not terrible. But I kind of am. And I definitely wish I was better. Anyone giving out guitar lessons for free? Bueller? Bueller?

H O P I N G  for no soreness tomorrow. I spent part of the morning and early afternoon snowboarding with my old friend Arrington and his girlfriend. This brings my grand total of times I have snowboarded to four. Yes, I did fall. Mostly because I chose to fall, since I’m not very good at just stopping. Anyone not giving away free guitar lessons that is giving away free snowboard lessons?

W E A R I N G two different pairs of pants with zippers at the ankles. I’m so 1999. I don’t even know how one ends up with two pairs of ankle zipping pants, let alone ends up wearing them simultaneously, like some sort of zippered superhero.

L O V I  N G that I’m going to see The LEGO movie today. Boo might be excited, but I am ecstatic. 

W A N T I N G some Hot Cocoa, because that seems like the appropriate drink for the winter activities thing that I did earlier.

N E E D I N G to do some actual writing. I’ve been writing in the second book of my I’m not published, but at least now the first book is finished series and have hit a wall. I’m not sure what it is — but everything I’ve written lately for it just sounds like crap when I read it back. I need to sit back and take a break from it,  but at the same time, I just want to get it done. Also. I need to figure out what I’m going to do now that the first book is completed. Online publishing, maybe?
F E E L I N G like writing — but a completely different story from the one I just mentioned. Maybe I’ll just start an entirely new book. It’ll probably be about like…love. Or vampires. Or magic. Or fantasy. Or Dystopia. What’s popular nowadays, anyway?

.Link up to the Sunday, Currently here.

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