Common American thinking of anything vanilla is something plain, classic, sweet and innocent. All the women in my family add vanilla to ANYTHING to make a food more sweet and comforting. The southern lady in the video below bitched slapped the purity right out of vanilla when she got down and dirty with some vanilla extract.  I had no idea there was such a high alcohol content in the flavor solution! No wonder my mom always said, “Just a drop… that’s all you need,” when I added it to batter. She knew I would’ve made a drunken pancake baby between vanilla extract and Bisquick if I had known… hmmmm…. a thought…

After drinking two bottles, it landed this woman on a street curb and in the slammer. Lindsay Lohan, if you’re reading this, stay away from the extract, you crazy little jail monkey.  Girl, you’re not alone if you’ve received a DUI from a substance your sweet Grandma uses to make cupcakes.

I’ve put many things under my armpits… okay, that sounded really bad. What I meant was.. I have put many odor/perspiration fighting antidotes under my armpits when I was out of deodorant, but the following story is above and beyond the creativity I’ve used in these situations.  After I heard this, I had to give myself mouth to mouth. Don’t ask how I did it… I’m sure someone has it on video, but I laughed that hard.

I’ve been with the same company for seven years and over the years, made close friends with counter-parts in different cities. A friend and coworker, came to Chicago for work last week and stayed with me. Work/Slumber Party is much more fun than a boring hotel room.  Anyhow, the first morning she was here, I went to work super early and she came a little later. She carried-on her bags and didn’t bring any toiletries because of the terrorist-proof regulations at the airport.  She planned on using my toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo…etc.

Side Note: Seriously, terrorists have SO not caught on to the fact that they shouldn’t bring their powder weapons in a shampoo bottle or in form of baby formula. Go airports, go! Out-smart those terrorists! It completely makes sense to take away my $60, 5 oz. moisturizer because it could be saturated with bomb powder!!!  I’m bitter.

Continuing the story, when she got to the office, she yanked me to the side and asked me what she smelled like.  The scent was very fresh smelling… very familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I asked her why - maybe it’s because she’s a smoker and didn’t want to smell like smoke.. I had no idea. Then she went on to tell me she couldn’t find my deodorant.  Hello, it’s in the medicine cabinet. “Where is that? I only saw two mirrors over your bathroom counter,” she asked. When I told her that the mirror on the left IS the medicine cabinet she just looked at me. “Are you kidding?!” I still didn’t understand why this was a big deal. I asked her if she found the deodorant. “No,” she said. Then I asked what she did in place of deodorant? “The only thing I could find was your Febreze Air Freshener so I tested it out and it wasn’t sticky so I thought, it’s good enough to fight bacteria and odors, so it’ll work on sweat.” YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SNORTING THAT AIR FRESHNER!!! YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE LAVENDAR FRESH SMELL IS MY LAVENDER FEBREZE WHICH HOUSES AT THE BACK OF MY TOILET TO DIFUSE THE SMELL OF ASS AND YOU USED IT AS DEODORANT???  Yes, that is exactly what she was saying.

She was wearing white and desperate.. so she took a chance with Febreze. After all, it does come in other forms like.. fabric spray and the kind you plug into a socket.. so why not use it to soak up pit-sweats?

Later that day, her armpits were itching because she broke out in a rash. PRICELESS!! Innovation gone wrong. I say “A” for creativity, though. I would’ve stuffed toilet paper in my purse and dabbed throughout the day.

It’s very often that we run into a situation where we’re kicked in the ass instead of serviced as customers should be. For example, last week when I had revisions to my salad, the waitress sighed and acted completely put out. Oh, Daddy made you get a job because he realized you’ll probably live off him for the rest of your life? BOO MF’in HOO!! Buck-up, Blondie and get me a free brownie while you’re at it, BITCH! Or perhaps the woman at the dry cleaners who looked at my white blouse that I had dribbled (poured an entire glass of Pinot Noir while snort-laughing) on and said, “You shouldn’t wear white since you spill so much.” Listen woman, aren’t I the customer here? Don’t I pay you like $20 bucks to rub some bleach on a white shirt? I’m so sorry if you’re back there with a scrub board while I’m living life and indulging in mother nature’s fruits… in liquid form. Cry me a river and scrub my shirt, Bitch!! Chop, chop! And when you’re done with that, I have some WHITE pants that have grease stains on the knee from when I perched my burrito there.

Yes, we’ve all ran into bad service and wished we did something about it, instead, some of us (me) just sit there silently then blog about it. However, my girl, Lindsey, decided to speak up and put a whip on some deli-workers! Way to tame that horse, Lindsey!! Make them cut that meat… uhhh.. what? Nevermind, here’s her story…

On a random weekday, let’s say it was Tuesday at 11 am, the Wal-Mart deli was anything but busy. But, of course there was one woman waiting on everyone while two co-workers did everything possible to look busy at doing nothing (sound familiar to anyone?) After about 5 minutes of me awkwardly peeping around the counter and looking over the scales and trying to quietly give the workers “the look” while remaining, polite…something in me snapped. About this time, another customer walked up next to me, waited for about 30 seconds, and then asks me, “I guess those two are prepping for lunch or something while the other lady waits on everyone?” I don’t know what grabbed a hold of me, but I loudly say, “Or they are just f***ing avoiding eye contact because they are afraid they might have to do their f***ing jobs!” Silence fell over everyone, customers and workers, and everyone looked at me. The lady next to me smiled the greatest “I love that you just did that” smile I have ever seen.
I calmly asked for my pound of cracked pepper turkey breast, waited for it, said thank you, and left.
I felt like I had just won a gold medal. Or at least an honorable mention.

This is me distraught!

They say everything happens in 3’s, I would like to amend that to everything happens in 9’s if your Lauren Carol Taylor. Let’s review my glorious month of May:

• Hospitalized for kidney crap and out of commission for 2 weeks.
• I gained 12 lbs of water weight because of my kidneys and I’ve only lost 5lbs of it! My 3 year-old nephew touched my stomach and said “Baby?” I immediately explained to him that it was water weight and I was on an anti-inflammatory to dissolve my bloated belly. By the way, Gavin, it’s a sensitive subject and Aunt Lauren is dealing with it day by day!  He starred at me blankly with half his cupcake all over his face and up his nose then handed me the remains of it and said, “More.” I think he felt really bad.
• Ripped my pants 3 separate times.
• Wiped out (completely sober) - face to the ground, ass in the air - twice in public and in freakin daylight!
• Car broken-into and passenger-side window SMASHED! I didn’t claim on insurance because of my deductible so it was out-of-pocket. The guy who installed my new window didn’t speak English very well so on first try he put in the wrong size because he kept ending his sentences in “yes?” and I would then respond with “yes” because I had no idea what he was trying to say and didn’t have the patience to figure it out.
• My cable was interrupted. What?? Excuse me, I’m on automatic bill pay, how can this happen? Ma’am, you never returned your cable box when you switched to digital. Sir, please put down your crack pipe because I returned the box back in December and it’s disturbing that you guys can’t keep track of it. I went through a full day of arguing and negotiating down the charges then later, went through a drawer in my media center to find…. THE FREAKIN CABLE BOX I SWORE I RETURNED!!!
• On Friday, May 29, two days ago, I walk to my car to find a BOOT on it. Someone have Naomi Campbell slap me - why do I have a boot!?!  Apparently, a new law has been passed in Chicago that after two tickets, you’re tire is accessorized with a metal “boot.”  My boyfriend and I each got a parking ticket in the last 3 weeks and haven’t gotten around to paying them. Oh….. but with the boot, you pay like 10 times what your tickets are worth!! I wonder if the City of Chicago is hard-up for money? Great job, Major Daley, you absolutely, positively, do not suck. I bet you and Blagojevich are secret lovers.
• Wait.. I forgot one thing… after my car was booted, I went to get cash for a cab, the ATM next to my apartment was not dispensing checks, however, thank the Lord for this one, it was taking deposits. Yeah.. I’m taking deposits too. I had to run up to my apartment and borrow cash from my boyfriend. That sucked.

Needless to say, I am ESTASTIC that today is the last day of May. I refrained from locking myself in a padded room the past two days in fear that a piano would fall on me.

HELLO, Joyous June!!! Please do not wipe the floor with me like your older sister, Miserable May. I would be forever grateful as would my kidneys and new over-sized gut and ass.

I’m not a big underwear fan. Thongs ride up and granny panties freak me out. Too many memories of my grandmother ironing in nothing but her bra and panties that started under her boobs and ended at her knees. Needless to say, I don’t wear them. I was on a date with a guy I’d been seeing for around 3 mos. He had taken me to dinner then to a friend’s party. I had already met most of the people there previously and was feeling comfortable enough to circulate on my own. I was wearing skinny jeans, but always had problems with the zipper riding down. To make sure nothing was exposed, I wore a tunic that covered the zipper. Later in the night, this really drunk girl tripped in front of me, throwing her entire glass of red wine on my shirt. The hostess, who was so gracious, but also much shorter and smaller than I was. She was nice enough to find a shirt (probably the largest one she owned) that I could wear for the duration of the party so I threw it on and continued to party and dance like a wild woman. Apparently, I was jumping and dancing so much my zipper did it’s nasty little trick coming down, but with the pounding of jumping, did another little trick of spreading apart!!! So… I’m dancing having fun… and everyone else is watching me expose my business below the belt! I’m talking a “Basic Instinct,” crouch shot.

The guy I was dating had to break it to me. I could tell that he was so embarrassed telling me while some of his guys friends laughed behind him. To think of what I looked like especially jumping up and down. God help me.

Tara
Madison, WI