HEY YOU GUYS!

Thanks for the CSA suggestions. Next time, I will put the lettuce in an airtight container. I will shell and soak the black beans. I will continue to eat kale and asparagus forever because they are delicious. THANK YOU, INTERNET.

Now, onto more important things!

Alayna and I saw the Indigo Girls in Central Park Tuesday night. The rain held out and I could not have been happier to be there with my bestie, singing along to the most brilliant lyrics in the history of the Lyric Universe. We were standing next to some…interesting people. Most notable were the two housewives from Pennsylvania who only showed up to see Matt Nathanson, the opening act.

Sidenote: I have Matt’s first album (I can call him that, Matt, because he’s my boyfriend) but haven’t heard any of his stuff since then. I also have never seen him live. So, I was completely unprepared for 1) how good he sounded B) how well he played guitar *8) how hilarious he is and most importantly, 4H) HOW FREAKING HOT THIS MAN IS, OH MY GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN

Exhibit A:

I mean, yowsas.

Anyway, back to the drunk housewives from Pennsylvania. Did I mention they were drunk? Because they were drunk. I can handle drunkenness. I can. I could even handle the blonde one turning around and remarking, OH MY GOD! I LOVE YOUR GLASSES! SHEILA, LOOK! LOOK AT HER GLASSES! THEY ARE SO CUTE! OMG! CUTE!

I could also handle her turning around and saying, “I am SO sorry if we’re dancing and yelling loudly! WE TOTALLY LOVE MATT NATHANSON! Just tell us to shut up!” And the first time she did that, Alayna and I were all, “HA HA NO PROBLEM! It’s a concert lady, let your freak flag fly!” And then after the fourteenth time she did that? I wanted to punch her in the face. Your singing and dancing is not what’s annoying. The fact that you keep turning around and APOLOGIZING FOR IT in the MIDDLE OF SONGS is the annoying part. FYI.

Luckily, they left right after Matt’s set was done. (See that? I call him Matt and I use musical words like “set”. Because I am in The Know. Because I am his girlfriend.) And I was all, “Aren’t you going to stay to see the Indigo Girls?” and no lie, they were all, “WHO ARE THEY?”

…

Please go back to Pennsylvania.

Love,
Alayna & Laura

That is the 10,000th picture of Alayna and me in that exact pose. The pose is called, “Laura reaches her arm out really far to take a picture of herself and her friend. Her friend looks nice. Laura fake smiles. SCENE.”

Anyway. We saw these lovely ladies again, my second time this year. And ooo look how close I was to the magic of it all!

Do you see the man in the red shirt? You can see the back of his shaved head?

This dude was IN IT TO WIN IT. I have never seen a more die hard Indigo Girls fan. He was singing along to EVERY SINGLE SONG, dancing like a maniac, pointing, shaking, going crazy. It was the most hilarious thing I have ever seen. I wanted him to be my friend. I imagined us staying up all night laying on our stomachs on my bed, listening to the Rites of Passage album, doodling our crushes on our math notebooks. Sigh.

Exhibit B:

So! The night was amazing! Except for the three girls that stood next to us during the rest of the concert and talked loudly about their wedding plans.

???

I felt myself getting really annoyed and I wanted to lean over and blurt out, “IF YOU ARE NOT GOING TO LISTEN TO THE WOMEN SINGING THEIR HEARTS OUT ON STAGE, CAN YOU PLEASE LEAVE?!”

But I remembered that sometimes I cop an attitude. And that I’m judgmental. And if they wanted to spend $40 and stand around talking about their respective impending nuptials, that was their choice, wasn’t it?

And yet…their conversation was really distracting and I kind of wanted to hit them over the head with a blunt but sturdy object. I just took some deep breaths and focused on the music and let it go.

(Can I be snarky for just one second though? One of the girls was wearing stockings. With flip flops. WHAT?)

ANYWAY. This week has been flying by! Lots of things winding down, like my beloved philosophy class which ends next week. DAMN YOU SUMMER VACATION. How will I remember to stay present and not beat up girls at concerts without class? HOW?

Speaking of present…

NICE SEGUE, DLUG! Zing!!!!

My friend Ruthie from class bought me the most beautiful hot pink skirt for my birthday. It is ballerina-esque, girly, stunning, awesome and fits PERFECTLY. I couldn’t wait to wear it but sadly, the weather wasn’t really cooperating.

UNTIL MONDAY! I vowed to myself, SELF! I WILL WEAR THE HOT PINK SKIRT TO WORK! AND THEN TO CLASS! So Ruthie can see how much I adore it!!!!!!

So I did!

Now, I am not one to talk about Office Appropriate clothing. I spent the winter wearing various combinations of sweater dresses, bright neon-colored stockings and boots. I occasionally wear peep-toe heels and sometimes? When I’m wearing my black pinstripe pants? I keep my black Converse sneakers on and “forget” to change out of them.

But I’m a temp, right? Who cares?

Well. Apparently, EVERYONE CARED about the hot pink skirt.

PHEW! THAT IS A BRIGHT SKIRT.

WOW, LAURA! THAT IS A LOT OF PINK.

What? I was confused and self-conscious. Sure, the skirt was maybe something more party-appropriate than Big Financial Corporation-appropriate. But! It was a modest length! And it had PLEATS! And I wore it with a dressy blouse and neutral heels. I thought I looked super cute. And when no one was riding the elevator with me, I twirled around and around only realizing after the fact that the security guards downstairs were probably watching the camera and laughing at me. BUT REGARDLESS.

It didn’t matter, I reasoned to myself. Because I would soon be at philosophy and Ruthie would see the LOVELY SKIRT she bought me and OH! How excited she would be!

Except she wasn’t. Because this past Monday was the one philosophy class Ruthie didn’t come to.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

But all was not lost. I got a lot of compliments on it. And when I got home, my roommate freaked over it and demanded to take some pictures. I decided that when I go to Paris, I am bringing this skirt. And I am going to twirl around France, around and around and around. But I’m probably not going to Paris for quite awhile. So, in the mean time, I will just wear this skirt occasionally. And when I do, I will act all French and shit.

Exhibit Une:

Exhibit Deux:

So, that is the story of the hot pink skirt. I know, it was scintillating.

I flickered the pictures from the concert and a huge amount from my mother and sister’s graduation weekend back in May. Highlights from that collection include the latest family photo:

And my new favorite photo: my dad looking awkward and hilarious, me looking like a cheerleader who needs Ritalin and Jem who is flaring his nostrils:

And of course, what blog post would be complete without a picture of the shoes that I wore?

That’s all for now, kids! I’m about to go put on my purple rainboots and go splash through some puddles as Manhattan is being ravaged by rain and I am weirdly happy about it. Because I am emo like that.

THE END.