End scene.

I have been busy.

Too busy to write anything. And now that I finally am, I just realized that I am totally not in the mood to write and would rather waste time on msn and importing cd's on my sexy new iPod> (thanks goes out to Andre for not only winning one at work, but then immediately giving it to me when I said, "Scutt wants an iPod.")

I think this is it. This is how I want to end things. It's not you its me, blogger. I just need to be free from everythingstops for a little while now. I don't want the burden of you and all your past memories when I am in a new country. Plus I think you are making me a little nuts since I tend to talk to inanimate objects when I am with you...my stomach, strange lampposts etc.

You can find more on me at my new location : yousayhelloandisaydubai.blogspot.com

and come along for the scutt travels. Watch me fail a little...and then pick myself right back up.

Goodbye, my love.

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.

comfort blog.

Amidst all the research and plans of departure, the emotions start to kick in...

The strangest part is I can't decide which ones are more poignant...the fear or the excitement. Since I tend to possess a negative/pessimistic/realistic/donkeybrain attitude as my general disposition, I will side with the Cynicism as the stronger one. The total Fear and Hesitation that comes with moving to the Fucking middle east.

However, the blog, secretdubai.blogspot.com has quickly become my "comfort food." Once I am reading about the media, culture and the constant construction (perhaps it will be like a laurier in city form!), I no longer push the delicious chocolate away in the back cupboard...pretending that I dont eat my emotions as I rock back and forth in fetal position on my tiny couch. I embrace the chocolate...but only small pieces at a time, and then sigh heavily afterwards; pleased with my decision to go back in the kitchen.

you know you've entered the mellenium when your "comfort food" has become blog reading...

snobby bobby

You are a snob.

Only you dont know you're a snob.

You went to college or University so that you would learn things from books! Books tell us that Marx was a revolutionary communist, Freud is severly fucked up and that you should vote. Your mind is opened to shiny theories with that alluring new car smell and you think...."I am becoming a better open-minded person."

Unfortunately, this is where you become a snob. Now you dont mean to be, thats not it at all. As I said before, you are trying to keep an OPEN MIND. Most University Students don't assume that they are better than anyone because University teaches you that those kinds of thoughts will result in the horrible deaths of your parents. It conditions you to be more objective..to appreciate diverse things (unless of course, you graduated in business...then it just teaches you to be a number crunching alcoholic), to have opinions and dont belittle others for having differing ones...to ask why.

NOW: talk to someone who never went to School. Chances are you dont know too many because your social circle happens to be people who went, AND studied with you. Talk to someone who doesnt have a dream, who will never have a quote-unquote career. Who doesnt read interesting literature or watch anything but collegehumor.com. Who, when you talk, gets a blank look on their face with serverly glazed-over eyes. You know the look? And you probably hate it.

It's hard to appreciate an uneducated individual for everything they offer that is different from the lectures (Pavlov!) that are taught in mass quantities across this nation, when they offer nothing.

I am a snob.

But so are you...you just dont know it yet.

That Name Again is Mr. Plow

I came home to my parents house this wretched Monday morning to indulge and be in a place that has more than one room, roast beef for dinner and a sex-free nite. Basically, I wanted to relax.

You can imagine how saucy I got when mom demanded I shovel the entire driveway. "waaahhhh. scutt doesnt want to shovel. Scutt is a lazy beast with carpel tunnel syndrome. wahhhhh." (rubs under eyes). But I put on a fedora and some gloves and went off to meet my defeat: The 6 ft snow pile the plow had left fittingly for me at the end of our driveway. 2 hours later I looked at my work and felt an overwhelming sense of productivity. The most productive I have felt since School. And it felt really really good.

So good, in fact, that I hopped over my recently created mountain that seperated our driveway from the neighbours and started to do theirs as well! They are in florida so I thought it would be nice for them to have a house that wasnt robbed to come home to (Also, my mom made me). But primarily I continued to shovel because I didnt want this feeling to leave. It became clear to me today that I haven't had a monumental task that I wanted to undertake in almost a year or since school ended. I work a mundane routine job that offers no mental stimulation and no feelings of achievement. I do mundane activities in my spare time with little or no sense of feat. For someone who deems herself a rather work oriented individual I certainly dont feel like I am doing quite enough to keep me on the up and up. This is a taste of what I have been missing. I am aware its just shovelling snow....but it's SOMETHING. And it offered me quite a good buzz along with numb toes.

Here's to the next big change!

A snow shoveling business.

(* in case your wondering, Its not ME who is sexily fornicating on a Monday nite, it is my neighbours above. Whom I am starting to believe are rabbits after all and want me to take part in their festivities. While all along, I am merely trying to steal a carrot from the vegetable patch and run away from the sounds.)