one on one with Mr. Pit.

It's time kids...For that radical Change. The type of change that makes you want to rip your stomach open just so you can rid your insides of the balloon sized pit that has made itself oh so comfy. What's that little pit? You just want attention and recognition for the journey you are about to embark on...and you wish that Marigold, Humpty, Dumpty and Bear would include you in their Pokaroo antics?

Well you cant! I need you to stop bothering me with the sea-sicky feeling 24/7. I'm doing my best little pit and if you can't appreciate how hard it is to Quit your job, make 2 grand, break up with your love, move out of your apartment, try to get your parents to understand and find a new job in a foriegn country all within a month...Then perhaps I dont know you as well as I thought I did.

Wait a sec...dont be cross. Oh see, now that I have reminded you of the To-Do list it seems you're getting all uppity again. Dont worry, there are still fun times to be had. What about shopping for sun screen and sun hats? That's always a crrrraazzzzzyyy day. ho ho, hee hee. and packing! OHH PACKING. We always loved throwing our lives into 2 fucking suitcases. And moving back home for two weeks! How much do you love mom's delicious eggs in the morning?

Hmmm. I can see that I am not selling you on this. I thought for sure that eggs would be the kicker. Okay, here's a better idea. ...no no!!..ohh little pit, you would go to jail for saying that outloud. I was thinking more like:

-Look at pictures of your new place in the Dubai Al Yass Marina.
-Pull out all of your summer clothes and try them on in the mirror while prancing and blowing kissy faces at yourself.
-Make your new resume so it's kickass.
-Stop drinking so much red wine. Clearly some of your sillyness is due to acid reflux.
-No more everythingstops blog. Time for a brand new bloggy. New memories deserve a new, fresh look wouldn't you say?

(shhhhhhh, look at that, hon. I think he is finally asleeeeeeeeep...)

24: The first season.

Unfortunately, this is NOT about Jack Bauer's ability to torture high up peoples for information..

In fact, if I was wasting my precious bloggin' time writing about that rediculous show and then subsequently TITLING my post 24, I would hope a wrathful little laura would intervene and put a violent, bloody end to the entire creative process.

This Post is shellfishly about me! ME ME ME! You see, I was turning 24 while we simultaneously took the day off to remember the murder of Jesus Christ. So I remembered, and then I drank some booze. Jesus would have wanted it that way.

The birthday night was Awesome. I earned a pearl necklace, a party full of cupcakes, and coupious amounts of horrible shots. I also peed on my shoe and leg in a public parking lot. Which I shrugged off non-chalantly until a certain "friend" with photographic evidence threatened to post the picture on facebook and tag my vagina. Hmmm maybe 24 is not so different from turning 23...22...etc.

Which leads me to my biggest problem with this 24 thing. For the first time ever, it was an age that actually sounded OLD. In fact, I was dreading my own birthday; a day to celebrate that no one loves scutt more than scutt and I didnt even care if it came or not. I toyed with the idea of doing all those unoriginal schticks like, "lets get together and celebrate turning 21...again." or "why dont I call brandon and borrow his time machine to go back and do this year all over. Ohh look, its snowing." But It came, It went and now its April 7th and, true to nature, I feel exactly the same as I did on April 5th. Which just reinforces the fact that we have been slowing turning the said age for some time now.

The slowly getting older? alarms started to go off when a series of circumstances in the past couple of weeks came to my attention about how little Scutt was not so little anymore. The Taking Back Sunday crybabypoollza I went to, where we were basically the only people in the beer tent. The Asshole kids who came into my work and when I asked them for I-DENT-TI-FI-CA-TION they angrily rolled their eyes and said, "I havent been asked for this in fooooooooooorever. " He was fucking 21. The deminishing desire to damage property and most things when inebriated. (save for an unfortuntate railing of an apt. building near summerhill). Basically, the deminishing desire to do anything in my spare time but lie around.

So, turning 24 is not really my "Big Problem" anymore. In fact, I kinda like it. I was worried that growing up would be this huge let down in which you spent most of your life trying to recreate those youthful moments, always feeling nostaligic. However, when you see the teens rocking out to their favourite band, you dont get mad because its inappropriate for a 24 year old to mosh with 17-eys. You smile and take your boyfriends hand in yours, leave the show before the last song and eagerly anticipate getting home by making him run towards the bus stop...

Although you're getting old..You still take the bus from time to time.