Lorraine vs. Lorraine

Ok folks. Time for a narcissistic poll. All who favour Lorraine with blonde hair, dark underneath and perhaps red streaks, say 'aye matey' in pirate fashion. All who favour Lorraine with dark hair and bangs, say "I favour Lorraine with dark hair and bangs." Ok, now go to the comments box and let me know which you think looks best! Thanks all. Cookies and tang to follow.


Also, while we're on comparisons, is it JUST me, or do I look better as the dead prom queen I dressed up as for Halloween? Once again, feel free to leave your thoughts in the comment box.

Communications Class Poetry

I wrote the following while being bored to death in communications class tonight. My two friends liked it so much they copied it down and passed it around the class, ha. Unfortunately my classmates are the ones who will appreciate it most since they know the way our prof is...

Communications Class

You babble like a mindless drone
With stature of a garden gnome
No one hears you when you speak
We wonder when you'll shut your beak

With each loud word you slow down time
We'd like you better as a mime
You seem to forget, we're not in grade five
By the end of class we're barely alive

Full stop, noun, subject, verb
Everything we've already heard
Repeated from your cathedral mouth
Makes us want to migrate south

Nothing personal, you seem quite nice
But we already learned the comma splice
Give us something for what we paid
Or another poem will have to be made

I wondered if it was karma that the only time I received a ticket for not paying for parking on campus was tonight, after I had written this poem...

My Washing Machine Is Taunting Me

*note: originally written Friday October 20th

I admit it...I'm one of those terrible spoiled twenty-one-year-olds that still has her laundry done for her by her mother. One small problem this week: mom is away in Quebec City on business.

I can count on one hand - MAYBE two - how many times I have done my own laundry. I discovered very quickly that it's really not as complicated as my mother made it out to be. She always has her own little methods and stuff that I thought if I didn't do I would end up with clothes that were all pink or ripped to shreds. Now I just make sure I don't shrink anything, wash anything that is dry clean only, mix whites with colours, wash everything in cold water, put in detergent and I'm good to go!

Today was D day...perhaps L day would be more appropriate? I collected my mountain of laundry and, failling to be able to see overtop of it, groped my way to the laundry room where it spilled over, covering the floor like an area rug. Excited at the prospect of actually doing something productive for myself, I turned the dial and pulled. Nothing. I turned it again, this time a little further in to make sure it was in the 'start' region. Nothing. I tried changing the temperature of the water, the save and drain button, slamming the dial with my fist, pulling it repeatedly in and out, shouting threats littered with curses at it, and yet....still...nothing.

So in the next day or so, I have the option of going commando or buying some new underwear. Thank God it's not very cold out yet!

Loud Music, Bigger Sizes and Seductive Beds

Can somebody please explain the logic of playing really loud music in a retail clothing store to me? The way I see it, it only provides disadvantages. If the type of music is something the shopper doesn't like, it will be made twice as uncomfortable by being loud. It makes it hard to talk. The sales staff go mental after awhile because they play the same tracks all day. Is that a safe work environment? What if a sales clerk is right on the brink of taking a potato gun to everybody in the store and it's the loud thumping rapper beat chanting "BABY YOU SO FINE OH BABY, DAMN GIRL" that pushes her over the edge? Well, I hope you brought your ketchup...cause potato spuds are gonna fly.

While shopping today I had to endure endless loud bad music in certain stores. And quite honestly, it nearly drove me out. I swear, if that store hadn't been overflowing with $10 pants to keep me preoccupied, I wouldn't have been able to stand in there for five minutes.

My other issue: the abundance of 1's and 3's found on every rack and the lack of...ummm...'higher' sizes. You'd think that when stores sell out of the bigger sizes, clothing manufacteurers would clue in and adjust their quantity of bigger sizes accordingly. Perhaps they are trying to give us incentive to diet? Oh wait I said size 1 and 3 didn't I...incentive to be anorexic?

Last but not least...I'm tired. Which is awesome because it's earlier than 3am! Which means I might not sleep in till 2pm! Which means I might be able to do something productive tomorrow! Which means...uhh...ok I can't derive any further meaning from that. I CAN tell you that I am currently daydreaming about my bed. It's right behind me, calling to me. "Lorraine...sleep with me...SLEEP WITH ME!" Now this is one situation where instead of providing a slap in the face, I will be happy to obligue.

Another Guilty Pleasure

After much deliberation and hours of intense mental debate, carefully weighing the pros and cons of the situation, I reconciled with myself and gave in to temptation. I've added another item to my list of guilty pleasures. It will be listed somewhere in between liking those corny Leon's commercials, writing out stupid names on "hello my name is" name tags, and typing naked at my computer. (Suckers...you're none the wiser!) This one is naturally internet related, as are the rest of the items on my guilty pleasures list. Oh man, I don't really want to identify what this is. But I must...admitting it is half the battle. I can do this. Here we go: my name is Lorraine, and I am a myspace addict.

It started out innocently. Coerced by a mixture of peer pressure and my own curiosity, I grudgingly signed up and filled out a brief profile. However, being completely unimpressed with the layout, disappointed at the people that requested to "be my friend", and increasingly frustrated because I couldn't figure out how to design my page, I wrote it off as stupid pop culture and left it be.

Do you have a myspace? - Laura

No, that thing is so stupid. I'd feel so geeky being on it. -Lorraine

...but you have a website, three blogs, you're on hotornot AND plentyoffish... and signing up for the one thing that everybody on the internet has is going to make you feel geeky? -Laura

Yes. Shutup. -Lorraine

Before long, boredom began to set in - as it usually does when I'm on the internet and out of pages to visit - so I decided to give myspace another chance. This time I noticed somebody from my elementary school and high school had requested to be on my friends list. I haven't seen her since high school and occassionaly wondered how she was doing, so I was happy to add her. Then I discovered all the cool groups and people that you could add! My favourite bands?Zach Braff? The Imponderables?? I'll take five of each please! Ok I know that probably doesn't make sense. Although five helpings of Zach Braff would be mighty enjoyable.

So here I now sit, day after day, with another medium of distraction from the physical outside world. But at least I have other myspace addicts to keep me company. To date, I am up to 46 friends. And every time I log on and see people have added me or accepted my request to be friends, I can't help but let out a "damn right!"
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Postscript: You can be my friend if you want. At least on myspace. Click here for my profile.