Category Archives: DeLorean DMC-12
Stories of our pasts
I have two confessions to make.
One. This post contains spoilers circa 1993.
Two. I am terrible with horror movies. This isn’t normal level oh God I’m so freaked out and I might jump a little while watching scared. This is I didn’t sleep for two days after I saw The Ring and was positive that bitch was hanging out outside my window waiting for me to let my guard down scared.
Even previews for horror movies freak me out. I’ve forced myself to watch movies after seeing the preview because I needed to know that these fictional characters that I’ve encountered for 1 minute and 12 seconds survived.
The best part about all of this intense fear of a genre is why I have said intense fear of a genre. And to understand that, we must travel back in time – to a simpler time, when Sarah Jessica Parker hadn’t had sex in a city yet, when Bette Middler was the wind beneath my wings, and when I had a crush on one Omri Katz.
Now, to put this into perspective, I was six when I first saw this movie. Actually, I was six when I saw most of this movie. And let’s be honest: Winifred Sanderson is pretty effing scary when you’re six years old. For whatever reason, I was watching Hocus Pocus, for the first time, by myself, at age six. My parents weren’t home. My older sister was not watching with me. And I don’t know if you know the premise of Hocus Pocus, but these crazy fucking witches come back from the dead and suck the life out of little children – which is exactly what I was at age six.
Suck. The Life. Out of Children.
So, I’m watching this terrible movie where these witches are coming after these kids to suck their life out, and completely missing great moments like the bus driver because I was too young to understand…
…and I am bat shit terrified. Like watching the movie with one eye terrified, because apparently that made it less scary, to only allow fifty percent of my vision to see the movie.
Well, I’m struggle-bussing my way through this movie, just about positive that the witches were going to lose, because it was a Disney movie, and everyone knew that Disney movies have to have a happy ending except for Bambi’s Mom because what a terrible movie.
And then this amazing moment happened where the kids forced the witches into a giant oven and fried them to death. Take that, Bette Middler. Everything is fine! The kids are dancing in the yard because they win, and the world is safe from life sucking creatures and –
YEAH. Omri just cooked the witches and they did not die.
Well, being the brave six year old that I was, that was about as much as I could handle. The witches did not die after being cooked, and therefore were not going to die, which meant that the good guys lost, and the bad guys won, and I was sleeping in my sister’s bed that night.
Except my sister wouldn’t let me in her bed. I huddled in my parents bed until they came home, absolutely terrified that the Sanderson sisters were going to come after me since I had watched half of Hocus Pocus. When my dad moved me back to my bed, I was sure that the shadows behind my Little Tykes kitchen were Winifred, waiting for me to fall asleep. I was the next Emily Binx, and was bound to be until 1999.
Six years later, when my family upgraded to cable from bunny ears antennas, I finally saw the end of Hocus Pocus when it aired on the Disney Channel.
Hot damn, I realized. The witches lose after all.
And that, my friends, is why Laura doesn’t do horror.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
- Jack’s Mannequin – The Mixed Tape
- Jack’s Mannequin – Bruised
- Matt Nathanson – Angel
- Matt Nathanson – I Saw
- Something Corporate – Walking By
- Something Corporate – Punk Rock Princess
- Death Cab for Cutie – Photobooth
- Lifehouse – You & Me
- Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Modern Romance/Poor Song
- 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?
Last night, I was reading an old journal which had somehow found it’s way out into the open. It was from 2010, around the time that Poof and Captain were getting married.
GoldDust was the Maid of Honor, and thus had to give a speech, as Maid of Honors tend to do. She was pacing around the reception hall with her note cards, practicing, and I walked up to her to see how she was doing.
L.A.: Are you okay?
GoldDust: I just need to practice.
L.A.: Do you want to say it to me? See how it feels saying it out loud?
GoldDust: No, I’ll be fine. I just need to get it over with. UGH. I hate this. It’s a wedding. It’s fun. Speeches are not fun. When I get married, no speeches!
Needless to say, she was a little worried. Of course, the moment came around, and GoldDust performed in good fashion. I don’t think she thought speeches were not fun after she successfully got through it. However, rereading this conversation, I’ve concocted the perfect speech for her wedding.
Ladies and Gentleman, a few years ago, when the third member of our trifecta was married, GoldDust turned to me, and she said, “It’s a wedding. It’s fun. Speeches are not fun. When I get married, no speeches!”
Pause for effect.
To the Bride and Groom!
I am available to give such sentimental speeches at your next event.
I gave up Red Bull three weeks ago.
This might explain why I haven’t been blogging, because I’ve been all…
…without the deliciousness of taurine and caffeine and whatever other -ines I was regularly putting into my system to allow the amount of foot tapping and body shaking that I normally do.
But without Red Bull, I’m suddenly feeling like I have a clearer head. I sleep better. I’m not jittering all over the place, and I no longer have the desire to try and turn cartwheels down the impossibly long hallway of my office.
Wow, I realize. What a wise decision I made to cut something so terrible out of my life. Out, damned energy drink. Out.
This got me thinking. What other terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things have plagued me in my life that I should probably think about giving the boot?
Here, in no particular order, is my list of guilty pleasures that I’m in the process of kicking.
Fuck, I love my coffee. I love it so hard. And with no Red Bull, Starbucks has been poised to make a killing on my wallet and in my heart. But then some asshole posted that my drink of choice, the grande white chocolate mocha-licious, is about 1290343098573 (add comments accordingly) calories of love handles and empty promises.
Seriously. Basic math shows that my coffee habit of $4.29 at least twice a week is almost $500 bucks out of my pocket for the year. And I am poor. I am poor and I am paying to get fat. Granted, it’s so much easier to drive to Starbucks than make a cup of coffee in the morning. But I’m trying. Starbucks, you’ve been downgraded to special occasions and pity parties.
2. Shopping on an empty spirit.
Do you read my blog? Then you know. I’ve been a very, very sad person. I have had some very low moments in my life, and I’ve had a very, very full closet for some of them. Did I ever wear that t-shirt from Forever 21 that had the bicycle on it because it looked like me? How about that sparkly gem headband during that phase of fashion life where everything was bedazzled?
I’ve made some terrible fashion decisions because when I get depressed, I shop. Some part of my brain told me that if I was sad, things would make me happy.
They didn’t. Neither did my empty wallet. But now when I shop, I’m able to look at my armload of stuff and think to myself. Do I need this stuff? Do I want this? Am I feeling sad? And if any of the answers are yes, I set the things down, back slowly away, and call somebody who knows me.
Friends. Good. Impulse shopping. Bad.
I don’t know why I do this. I can’t think about it though, because it defeats the purpose of trying to kick the habit.
4. One Tree Hill > 8 hours of sleep.
I’m such a guilty pleasure TV show-er. I loved One Tree Hill, and Gossip Girl, and Gilmore Girls, and Veronica Mars, and OMFG, Did you know there is a Veronica Mars movie coming out!?
This would all be well and good, but Netflix. And TV on DVD. And other ways to spend hours and hours of your life just watching TV. I work a normal job schedule, then spend the rest of my time with my son, which means that the time I have to watch TV falls during post bedtime for offspring time. Which would be well and good except…
L.A.’s thought process for TV watching
Episode 1: I love this show. I’m going to watch this episode then go to bed because I have to wake up early.
Episode 3: Oh. Em. Effing. Gee. I have to find out what happens.
Episode 9. I can’t NOT finish the season now. I just should finish it. There’s only two episodes left.
Episode 34549837: Fuck. Is that my alarm?!
5. Sticking to things.
…I acknowledge that the following things may not be kicking habits, but simply growing up and making mature decisions. THE HELL, guys. THE HELL.
So Labor Day Weekend marks the transition from summer to fall.
This summer has been a magical time for me. I have been so fortunate to be surrounded by so many amazing people. I wouldn’t trade the late nights that turned into early mornings, the laughter or randomness. But I’m ready for the winds of change. The air reeks of it.
The leaves aren’t the only thing changing colors.
It seems like myself and everyone around me is in transition.
I just moved into a new house. I’m also making plans to change a few other things in my life, not just geography.
My dear friend Hot Chocolate is moving to another state for a his job this week. I’m sad to see him leave, but I’m so proud of him and excited to see what this opportunity will bring him.
He has given me so much this summer. More than I could ever repay him, so I will not burden him with sadness of leaving. I rather celebrate the joy of something new and exciting.
L.A. is also in her own set of changes. Boo started kindergarten. Someone very dear to her moved away. She has other things that are in transition also.
It’s all chaotic. We don’t know what each day will bring. It all seems to be moving so fast. Not a moment to take a deep breath and enjoy it.
Even with all the confusion and chaos, I have a sense of calm.
I’m excited about all the change. It’s progression. I love progression.
I don’t know if there is something in the water or if I have reached euphoria, but I don’t fear change anymore. I crave it.
Good things can’t become great things without change.
I’ve been afraid of changing
‘Cause I, I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I’m getting older too oh yes
I’m getting older too
In my last post, I shared a story of Cucumber Man. I promise to share how his name came to be. I’m keeping my promise.
In the summer my office has a company garden. We have a huge shipping yard with lots of space so it’s easy and everyone enjoys the free produce.
I started my job in late summer of last year. So I didn’t have help with the process of up-keeping the garden, but I did get to enjoy the fruits of everyone else’s labor.
One day, before Cucumber Man was actually Cucumber Man, he picked a fat, perfect green cucumber from the garden and brought it into the office for safe keeping.
He made one vital mistake with his safe keeping. He left the cucumber on the office’s kitchen counter.
Even I, who had only been working at the office for 2 weeks, knew not to do this.
The office’s kitchen counter is fare game. If something is on it then anyone can consume or take it without asking. Simple 101 rules of the office.
Cucumber Man left his perfect cucumber on the counter… unattended and unguarded.
When he returned to the counter… he discovered it was gone. The horror!!!
The cucumber hunt…
Cucumber man started screaming for his cucumber.
“Who took my cucumber?”
“Where is my cucumber?”
I had not witnessed the cucumber go missing and I did not take it. Nor did I care about the cucumber.
Cucumber man questioned each person he encountered.
He had to come to his own conclusion when he found me for questioning.
“Did you take my cucumber. You look guilty.”
No, I didn’t take your cucumber, jerk face. The expression on my face reflects my complete shock that you’re freaking out over someone taking your cucumber. -This is what I wanted to say.
Instead… I denied taking it, but knowing in his heart he believed I had stolen it.
About an hour later, the cucumber resurfaced. One of the outside sales guys took it, thinking it was fair game since it was on the office’s kitchen counter.
Cucumber man came in my office and gave me a half-hearted apology.
“I’m sorry I thought you took the cucumber, but you looked guilty.”
Never take a man’s cucumber. The wrath is unbearable.