Wednesday Mash Up

It's officially the Wednesday before Winterlicious starts in Toronto,
which means it's officially the Wednesday that I should make my triumphant return to the gym or any form of physical exercise,
I'm going out to dinner with a girlfriend instead. FAIL[for body]WIN[for liver]


It's also a Wednesday rambler - enjoy.


The Photo

The Scene: in the kitchen [all 200sq feet of it] drinking Jumpy Monkey tea, hair and makeup done, but refusing to get out of my pjs until it's absolutely time to leave. Tights are uncomfortable.

The Song... is "Breathless" by Tswift from the Hope for Haiti Now telethon this past Friday. Did you watch it? It was amazing.

The Advice... At night time before bed, flip your head upside down and brush your hair from root to tip - it will distribute your natural hair oils better than brushing while standing up. You can do this in the morning too for instant volume.

The Entertainment... Make It Or Break It is on tonight and I can't wait. What do I enjoy more than a cheesy, lifetime-esque, family show? A cheesy, lifetime-esque family show about gymnastics. IMO, it would be best to find gymnasts that can act and perform their own routines rather than trying to work with weird actresses who take the simple task of running down a vault runway and turn it into the Hamburgler running to McDonalds...just sayin'. Oh and the story line? Completely accurate. When I was in gymnastics I would always sit up in my bed late at night and visulalize my routines in my head while making semi-graceful arm movements. Barf.

The Inappropriate...first date. I am by no means a dating expert - but the idea of enjoying a date with a young man at a trendy bar downtown seems harmless. Add in his weird female best friend that tells you to hold out on him, his crazy ex girlfriend who appears at the same bar only to be invited over [multiple times] by your date to join the two of you for drinks, and unending phone calls till 4am after you leave the bar, complete with a drunken voicemail that includes the words "father issues" - this guy is definitely a keeper. @youknowwho - I hope I'm invited to the wedding!

The Obsession... Starbuck's sugar-free vanilla cappucino - bone dry. This baby comes with espresso and no milk, only foam, and its amazing. I'd take foam over milk anyday [thats.what.she.said.ew]

The Frustration... is vacation jealousy. I'm seeing and hearing about a lot of your vacation plans that are coming up soon and I'm green with envy. My mom is also just back from LA and getting ready to leave for Florida - wench. While you are all away enjoying the sun, sand, and various fruity cocktails [or vodka soda with lemon..ecch], I will be enjoying my company's vacation freeze from cold Toronto. Bring me back something nice.

The Shoutout... goes to the beautiful lady who had the pleasure of dealing with the inappropriate first date - who is beautiful, [very] smart, funny, and has absolutely no father issues. xx


Happy Wednesday.

xxLM

Dear C,

You would be so proud of your friends! Actually, you must be so proud of your friends, because I know you are very aware of the exciting things going on in their lives. Isn't it crazy that they are all graduating this year? Can you believe how beautiful She has become? You must be so excited for Him to move to NYC - photo editor for Maxim? I could see you in that job, giggling in the background, cheeks red, crooked smile - the best. Will you follow Her in Geneva when she goes for grad school? I'm sure you will. I'm sure you watch over them every day.

I know you watch over us every day.

I am so happy for your friends, but at the same time, a tiny piece of my heart breaks for you. I wonder if you enjoy all of the moments you didn't experience here, in Heaven. Do you have a girlfriend up there? Do you drive? Do you enjoy vodka soda as much as I do? If you do, I hope you always have it with a lime, never a lemon. And be weary of Tequila, it feels good at first, but the liquid courage ultimately turns into semi-solid embarassment. Or so I've heard.

Alumni weekend brought an unexpected surprise for me. We watched old recap videos, and there you were in the stands. Alive. Did you know that I haven't seen a video of you since you left us? To say I couldn't breathe was an understatement. You looked so happy crunched in between Mom & Dad with your videocamera [probably happier than that one time you were stuck in the Super 8 with Mom after she ate that funky pizza]. Your white shirt was a little dirty as usual, and your trucker hat sat crooked on top of your curly hair, it was you. Alive.

Sometimes I forget you were a living person here. That's a hard statement for me to make, but I see you as an Angel, a spirit we refer to all the time, a figure we will always look up to. Seeing the video and the accomplishments of your friends leads me to wonder where you would be now if your time on Earth was extended.

I take comfort in the fact that I truly believe your life could not have been taken at a better time.

It would have been exciting for you to graduate high school, turn 18 and buy special magazines, or turn 19 and be able to buy Mom some wine. It would have been so cool for you to be able to drink, and drive [not at the same time though]. Most of all, I wish that you were standing up with Rob and Mark when it was our day, and not dangling from my flowers.

It's easy to think of all of the 'good' moments you missed, but I think C, in your case, the tough moments that you were guaranteed to go through would have overshadowed these bright spots. I believe that what lay ahead of you post high school would have changed you as a person, and that happy-go-lucky, goofy guy we remember you as, would be different. Our struggles here are nothing compared to the struggles, both physical and mental, that you would have had to experience, none of which we would wish upon anyone, least of all you.

In a twisted way C, October 17, 2005 saved you as much as it saved us. It saved you from pain, stress, and uncertainty. It saved us from a different kind of pain, stress, and uncertainty. This is not to say that these four years have been anything even close to easy, but should the timing have been different, there would be memories of your pain and struggles in addition to the memories of your laugh and poor spelling. Our memories of you are the brightest of bright, and for that, I know I am comforted and forever grateful.

I can only imagine the fun you are having up in Heaven with P, G, S and L. The fun you are having laying all those coins all over the house, brining the bunny to the backyard, and finding us [me] parking spots at the mall. You must be giggling at Mom's dancing and Dad's sleeveless exercise top, R's power alleys and that time I fell facefirst into that mud puddle at Loblaws. This is the life you should be living, the same giggly, drooly, wiggly life you lived here. I have no doubts that you are happy, healthy, and very good looking up in Heaven.

I hope you have no doubts that you are missed every single minute of every single day here. We take comfort in knowing your life was fulfilled by 17, and I hope you take comfort in knowing that we continue to include you in fulfilling our lives here. We all wear your bracelets, we still enjoy Peppercorn Ranch fries, and if we all had the same shoe size, we'd wear your runners. Only Mom is lucky enough to be able to do that.

Thanks for the laughs, the coins, and the parking spots, Love Ya.

Peace.

Wednesday Rambler

I find this week to be going by very slowly and the heartfelt blog I was about to post isn't fitting with my current mood. Wednesday is hump day, and hump day should be cheap, quick, and easy - so that's what you'll get. From now on, Wednesdays will include no specific theme, but a menage of topics that tickle my fancy during the week.

Enjoy.

The Photo:

The Scene: My condo, wearing my sweatpants inside out [try it], and watching IR: Cold Case Files [it was painful to wait for CSI Miami to be over - David Caruso makes me quiver, and not in a good way]

The Song... is hands-down "Try Sleeping with a Broken Heart" by Alicia Keys. Good Quiver.

The Advice... Run a tiny amount of corn starch through the roots of your Day 2/3 dirty hair, blow dry upside down on cool for 30 seconds = bye bye greasy hair

The Entertainment... The Jersey Shore finale is tomorrow - fist pump! Along with Hoarders, Jersey Shore rates up high on my scale of "this-is-terrible-but-I-can't-look-away" television shows. I used facebook to look up my Jersey Shore name, and my two selections were L-Gel, and The Position [double fist pump!]. What intrigues me most about these guido's and guidettes more than their flawless tanning skills and Snookie's magnificent hair [sans Bump-It], is how they all have functioning livers. How can that be? These classy kids party harder than a pack of freshly 21 year old males on a bachelors trip to Vegas. I guess if they do need transplants, after this show they'll all be able to comfortably afford new livers along with unlimited tanning for the rest of their lives - did you know Snookie makes $10K an appearance? Did you know Snookie and the rest of the cast will be gracing the Wayside with their presence this coming weekend? Apparently all those Jaeger Bombs and bellringers we've purchased throughout the years is finally paying off. Fist pump!

The Inappropriate...email address. A couple weeks ago I was given a resume to forward along to a couple managers within my company. Naturally, I took a good look at the resume before forwarding, and Thank God. I won't post the email address that graced the resume, but here's a tip to all you University/College grads: firstname.lastname@whatever.com. Handing in your resume with your email involving your pet name, any usage of the term "QT" or "baby", and ANY form of numbers resembling 6969 will probably eliminate your chance of receiving the job. It will also eliminate your chance of me passing along your resume. Sorry qtpie4u6969@shootme.com

The Obsession... this week is a tie between my new Carlos Falchi for Target purse [50% off = fist pump!] and candy. This entire week, all I've wanted to eat is anything chewy and covered in sugar [you read correctly]. Fortuntaely, I have many candy flavoured tea's that are lighter on the waistline and the teeth.

The Frustration... this week goes to Heidi Montag. Babycakes - get a hold of yourself, or your plastic self I should say. Don't get too close to the oven or else you're sure to end up in a Mrs. Doubtfire reenactment and we all know how sh*tty burning rubber smells. Ten surgeries at once? I can understand the Botox and the lipo [stop judging me], but tucking your ears back, butt implants, and too many Ds in your breast size is a little much non? I'm glad you no longer have to worry about your ears poking through your hair, totally SO mortifying.

The Shoutout... goes to The Appointment, for your amazing photog skills, your patience, and your ever present ability to deal with my crazies on a daily basis. *Muah.

Have a fist-pumping Wednesday,

XxLM

Dear Facebook Friends,

I love facebook, I do. I like to stalk all of you and find out what you're doing, where you've been, and what you're looking like these days. What I do not want to know, is your relationship drama, inspirational quotes that get you through your days, or how many cows you have on your farmville.

Facebook is for stalking, not buying shamrocks for St Paddys day.

I have two main beefs with facebook: status updates, and inappropriate pictures [especially between Nov 1-10 when the Hallowe'en albums come out]. I love logging on to 'the book in the morning and seeing these:

Laura McLaren is tired of your crap and one day you will wake up and realize you lost a diamond while you were collecting stones. Guess this diamond will be shining alone tonight =( =(

• Please. Airing your relationship drama through your status update makes me want to yarble.

Laura McLaren is going to work today, thank God I got the H1N1 vaccine...LOL

• Note: That happened two months ago. If you are still writing status updates about something that happened more than 2 weeks ago, maybe its time to throw in the towel.

and last but not least, my all time favourite

Laura McLaren lost ma phone o know! Plz txt me ur # 2 999-999-9999 n send meh ur diggies!

• 1. we speak English
• 2. we write in English
• 3. WHY ARE YOU GIVING OUT YOUR PHONE NUMBER ON FACEBOOK?

In all seriousness: I worry about some people on facebook. You never know who can get access to this stuff these days, and just because you have your profile set to "only friends" doesn't mean that some pretty scary people can't get your information. I see a lot of young girls (aka you teens in high school) with not only their cell number, but their home address listed in their profile. Add to it a profile full of model-posing profile pics and an 80 pic Hallowe'en album of you as a sexy donut maker, and voila. Just like words in an email, Facebook has no tone, and the message you are sending across to "just friends" is loud and clear. All I can say, is be careful.

This may come accross as very judgemental, but we are all judgemental to a degree, and I swear I have the urge to message at least one person a day to remind them that their employers, teachers, coaches, etc are all on facebook these days, and maybe seeing you hugging the porcelain God on that day you supposedly had pink eye isn't the best idea. Don't get me wrong, I love facebook photos - of your kids, your apartment, and your family; however, I don't need to see your breasts, your scabs, or your kissy face [ps, a whole 80 pic album dedicated to your dog isn't my style either... but you get the drift]. I love confident people who aren't afriad to be who they are; however, flaunting who you are and all you got to 1082 friends is a different story.

Why I felt compelled to write this post I'm not sure - maybe its because I watch too many episodes of Criminal Minds, Law & Order, and Cold Case. Maybe it's because I really care about a lot of the people on my friends list and wouldn't want anyone to get hurt or lose a job due to some unfortunate tagged photo's. Or maybe its because I just don't like your dog.

Either way, before you update your status or your photo's - please remember - facebook is for stalking, and it ain't only me surfing your profile.

Laura McLaren is finished another blog, making some tea, and logging off.

*On a separate, unrelated note - if you have any questions, blog requests, or research/advice you want me to give about specific products or fashion/beauty/skincare - feel free to email me at allmylaundry@gmail.com*

Tea is for Tingle.

I started cheating on November 17, 2009. I wasn't sure how it worked exactly, as I had never experienced anything like it. It only took one time for me to realize I was head over heels in love - and in way over my head. It's only gotten worse since then.

I am in love with David.

Davids Tea that is.

For my birthday this year I was given a beautiful glass teapot along with a selection of blooming tea's. Prior to this experience, I had always been a casual gal, sticking to what I knew - basic green tea, sometimes black, but never anything else. I knew as soon as I had my first Double Zen, I could never go back.

I had never had looseleaf before, let alone tea that surprises me with a beautiful garden. From my earlier posts [*cough* Dear Blazer...], I'm sure you've come to the assumption that I'm an indoor gal. I like flowers [as a gift, with a vase please], but a garden I have no interest in. This garden however, this garden I liked. This garden was worth my time and energy, one I could spend my money on. And I did.

After my first taste, I knew I needed more, but I wanted to be smart and responsible. It had to be worth it. I picked out a couple that definitely seemed affair-worthy. I bought Cream of Early Grey, since my previous relationship was with "plain" Earl Grey [upgrade!], Organic Sweet Dreams to sing me to sleep at night, and Creme Caramel Rooibos which promised to be "smooth, sweet, and creamy..." As if anything could top smooth, sweet, and creamy [in addition to being good for your insides], I bought Read My Lips. Read My Lips isn't just a chocolate tea. It's also not just a black tea infused with vanilla, chocolate bits, peppermint, and spicy black peppercorns. Read My Lips contains red candy kisses. Read My Lips promises to be better than dessert. Read My Lips claims to be more reliable than sex [u.p.g.r.a.d.e]. A little cheating has led me to a fancy, upgraded, sing me to sleep kinda place. A place filled with candy, spice, and everything nice. A little cheating led me to my soul mate: Rich, smooth, and more reliable than sex.

What has your tea done for you lately?

Unlike Tiger Woods, this affair only set me back about $50. Unlike Tiger Woods, each affair complemented the other, knowing their place and that there were others. Most importantly, unlike Tiger Woods - I couldn't wait to share my discoveries. It didn't take long for news to spread, and it only took a few words to convince my mom and two girlfriends to jump headfirst in to their affairs as well. It started with sharing juicy emails and texts about our latest indulgences, and then it progressed. It wasn't long before we were going together in search of something new, something to top last nights discovery.

And then, we found The Skinny.



Unlike our earlier trials, The Skinny didn't promise to bring us to celebrity-filled beaches and yachts in the south of France [Rooibos de Provence], couldn't committ to giving us a natural high that lasted all day [Jumpy Monkey], and under no circumstances would The Skinny give us Glitter and Gold, lighting up our world with sparkles and cinnamon. No, The Skinny promised to boost our metabolism and block fat absorption after a heavy meal.

The Skinny didn't taste as good as Forever Nuts, but The Skinny took away all the guilt.

After The Skinny, we felt amazing. After The Skinny we felt we could do it all over again - and we did - each time returning to The Skinny at the slightest tingle of guilt. And so the affair rages on, each day bringing new flavours, new textures, and new adventures. The best part? Whenever we feel guilty - The Skinny is there. Our tea may not do our laundry or file our nails - and Read My Lips may not be more reliable than sex [speak for yourself], but The Skinny allows us to enjoy all the sweet and spicy, smooth and creamy, rich, candy-laced encounters we have every morning, noon, and multiple times at night.


Again, what has your tea done for you lately?

Are you there Mom? It's me...again.

Scene: Tuesday night. My condo. Watching the World Juniors hockey gold medal game
Players: Just me, myself, and I. Oh, and devil kitty, he's here too.

I've got my "painful" face mask on as I call it; seriously - this thing doesn't play around, even the label says "feel your face pulsate." I've had a girlfriend do this one with me, and she hasn't asked to come back and repeat the process. I have a love hate relationship with this thing, I'll write more about it [and my at home spa] at a later date - but I swear this leads into today's blog.

Besides the pain, the main thing I hate about this facemask is that I can't talk for a good half hour. It pulls so tight that I can't answer my phone, and my main frustration right now is that I want to call my mom. No reason specifically, just to talk and laugh with [at] each other. My mom is a reverse age-r: she gets prettier, stronger, and funnier with age - I can only hope that this is how I age [although if the label on this devil mask is correct, I should shave a few years off by struggling through the 10-20 minutes twice a week].

Hands down, my Mom is my best friend. It didn't always used to be that way, when I was younger, "friend" wouldn't be the first term I'd use to describe her. Granted I couldn't drink back then, but wine isn't the only thing that fuels our friendship. I mean it's a lot of it, and some days more than others, but whether its 9am or 9pm [on a Saturday when we're both feeling prettier and funnier], we still laugh just as hard.

The start of our friendship was when I moved away to University. It took a good 600km of space for me to realize not just how much I needed her, but how cool she was. Throughout University, she would drive up 99% of the time for my meets, always cheering [or secretly love cursing] from the stands. After every routine, and sometimes even before, I would look up in the stands and there she was, looking more nervous than I was. One of the greatest days for me was my last gymnastics meet EVER in Seattle - both my parents & brother were there, and the look on my mom's face after I landed my last dismount was a mixture of happiness, relief, and that "mom" look when you know they're really proud of you.

After graduation I moved home, not only back to Toronto, but home-home with my parents. Originally I had planned to apply for a work Visa to stay in the US, but in the Fall of 2005 my Brother passed away, and I knew that as soon as I graduated the following Spring, I needed to go home. I wasn't sure how it was going to turn out, but I knew that I needed my parents [not just for money and lodging], and they needed me [not just for someone to do all the cooking]. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, when I moved home it was hard - I missed my life and my friends back in Michigan, but it didn't take long for me to realize it was the smartest decision I've ever made.


For the past 3 years through all the changes in my life, my mom has been my top BFF, and I hope it stays that way for the rest of our lives. While I lived at home, we both tried new things [yoga], we both then quit some of those new things [pilates], and we earned more Shoppers Optimum points than most of you will in a lifetime. I introduced my mom to lots of life's necessities - American Apparel, tanning, and Multi-Grain Cheerios to name a few. In return, she taught me how to iron a shirt, how to make garlic spare ribs, and how to sing. All three I haven't quite mastered [tried], but you bet your a*s mi madre has mastered many of my lessons. She could lead the MAC 187 foundation application tutorial, she'd ace a celebrity gossip quiz, and she will always beat you to the best "that's what she said"s.

Note: she also outwears me in the thigh-high leather boots category, and the first time I saw her in skinny jeans I was jealousy-induced speechless.

All necessities aside, my mom is realistic. She understands my habits, my struggles, and my abilities to handle the different things life throws my way. She never judges, never interrogates, and never over steps her boundaries. She realizes that I am an adult and need to make my own decisions, which in turn will sometimes lead to my own mistakes - and that's okay. She knows I need to learn for myself, but there is no question that both my parents are always there for me, quietly in the background, but very aware and never distant.

Fast forward three years and I've moved out of my parents house [finally] and I'm very quickly learning that I want to be just like my Mom. We talk and laugh all day every day, and I am fortunate enough to live and work close by. We still buy the same things [Reebox Easytones.. they work ps], still obsess over the same things [Davids Tea, Thursdays blog fyi], and we still prefer to spend our nights watching 48 Hours Mystery just like we did when I lived at home.

As I finish up this post, I realize I haven't heard from her in almost 3 hours. She is watching the hockey game which I guess is okay, but aside from obvious sleeping hours, a three hour lag is rare. I hope she is having a good night, that she has had a good day, and that even if nothing else - she knows I love her and think she is pretty and funny all on her own.

Twenty Ten in More and Less

Happy New Year!

Did you make a new years resolution? Do you plan to keep it?

I am undecided on new years resolutions. I don't normally make them, and if I do, I don't take it seriously enough to follow through. I do believe that setting goals and kicking bad habits is a must, but why at the changing of a calendar year do we all become motivated, energized people (or at least fake that we are)?

Did you feel different Friday morning than you did Thursday night? Did you wake up Friday with a plan for 2010 that cuts out Cheetos and costs $100 a month for a gym membership? I didn't - I didn't feel any different. Well, except for my liver. And my headache. And my need for McDonald's. Physical pain aside, mentally - I felt just the same as I did on Thursday night (well actually Thursday night I felt a little prettier, and a little funnier, but you get the point).

I think meeting the goals you set for yourself is best accomplished if you set these goals on your own time, and on your own terms. It shouldn't take spring break or a trip with your new boyfriends family (hot brother included) to force yourself to get those abs you saw on the cover of Shape magazine (when you were picking up your weekly InStyle or OK! magazine [US Weekly is way better IMO]), nor should it take one too many walk-of-shames for us to decide that maybe Margarita Monday isn't necessary.

Seasons, embarrassing events, or other people shouldn't play the biggest role in the goals we set for ourselves. Summer isn't going to come to your house and run with you, and don't even count on February to drag you to the gym for your upcoming vacation. If we let these dictate our goals, what happens when they go away? Seasons come and go and people change - but if the goals are on your terms, you are more likely to meet them.

So, in lieu of new years resolutions, I put together a list of 'more and less's that I'd like to see for myself in 2010 without letting the seasons or the shortbread cookies play a role.

In 2010, I'd like to see
More weekends at home, and less work on Sunday nights.
More laughing, and less bitching.
More money in my bank account, and less donations to Sephora.
More cooking, and less Starbucks.
More Ab Ripper, and less liver ripper.
More quality family time, and less facebook
More breakfast, less liquid diet
More talking, less texting
More water, and less of the bubbly version with vodka (and a lime. Always a lime, never a lemon)


So there you have it, stick with me for 2010 and we'll see if come January 2011, I'm a little richer, a little more rested, and able to feel prettier and funnier after only one glass of wine.