#100HappyDays Day 6: Sweatin’ Coffee

#100HappyDays Day 6


I wish my day began like the Folgers commercials from the 80’s. Laying in bed with my hubster while that sweet, sweet aroma makes its way from the crappy coffee maker up the stairs to our bedroom…

Except in my version, hubs and I would get in a morning quickie before the kids followed the scent of coffee.

“Go play with your dolls, girls! Pancakes when Dad and I are done!”

No, but really. Today I’m giving a shout out to my big, long-time supporter in life: Coffee. I don’t discriminate. I love all of you. I’m sort of the pimpstress of coffees. And this one’s for you baby..

Dunkins. You’ve been my dude since high school. I’ve had you when I shouldn’t and longed for you when I was in need. Though your prices creep up slowly like a stranger in an alleyway, I turn around and give you that extra ten cents because that turbo shot makes my heart go boom boom.

Starbucks. You’re like a stripper at a really expensive night club. As I wait in line, I catch a glimpse at all of the desirable sweet treats you have to offer, but I stray away from them because they’re bad for my health. Most of the time, I’m cheap and pay for a tall macchiato, but I know if I really want a vente in the back room, I’m going to have to pay top dollar. So when I’m feeling a little extra, I slide right into home with you.

McDonald’s. You’re definitely a grow-er, not a show-er. When I first saw your small, itty bitty price, I thought I was going to get robbed out of a good time. But as soon as I handed over my dollar, I was returned with this surprisingly big, big cup that filled my mouth with such joy that I couldn’t even look Dunkin’s in the eye as I drank you at the stop light in the plaza. Newman’s, you Own my heart.

Maxwell House. I’m going to end with you because since I start my morning with you, it wouldn’t be fair to my other caffeinated bitches if I didn’t give them a second in the spotlight. My mom introduced us back when I realized I was spending too much money on the other hoes. It took a while to get used to your unsweetened taste, but when I met the Columbian blend, I got my socks knocked the frigg off. That blend makes me go all day, and I know that if I drank it before bed, I’d go all night too. Kisses, boo.

I Love Me My Coffee. And That Shit Makes Me Happy.


There’s a Reason I’m Not a Parent

Last night my sister had loads of homework to do, so I had child duty for a few hours. My niece is 4 and cute as a button so I don’t mind watching her. She spent a solid ten minutes singing Frosty the Snowman but mumbling all of the lyrics except for legit-Froooosty the Snowman! Naturally, I sang the rest for her so she had a better idea of what it sounded like.

Auntie Lara? Can you tell me the story of Frosty the Snowman?

Um. Like, not the song?

Yeah. I want to know how he came alive and what happened to him.

Sure, kid.

Oh Lord.

I never really had experience with children before my niece. Hell, she was the first baby I ever held that didn’t scream like a banshee. I’m also not very good at telling children’s stories so I figured I’d just go with it.

I started with the usual. You know-kids are playing outside in the winter and make a snowman. Button nose, corn cob pipe. The full deal. Played with the kids all winter…

Auntie? What happened when the winter ended?

This is where Frosty went from a lovely children’s story to a tragedy in just a few minutes.

Well, it started getting warmer outside and..

And Frosty melted?

Yeah. Yeah, he started melting and the kids started getting sad.

Lara. Stop. Stop right there. Throw in a happily ever after dammit.

Word Vomit:

Frosty assured the children he would be back next winter. He told them all about uhhhh The Water Cycle and how ummm when he melts, his body is going to evaporate into the air and make a cloud. *Oh my God Lara did you really just go there?* Then when the cloud gets full, it starts to rain and his body will make a puddle and that will keep going until the winter comes back and he becomes snow again. Then the children can make a new snowman, throw that hat up on his head and BAM Frosty is back in action. The End.

I don’t even know where all that came from. I could have said something totally different. I could have told her that Frosty moves North for the summer and comes back the following winter. I clearly didn’t think of that at the time.


Don’t worry, sweetie. That’s a happy ending.

Oh. Okay. Can I have chocolate milk now?


Frosty’s Evil Twin

My surgery is in 2 hours.

I have Chinese food on the way to my work where I will take a few doses of Valium before my dad picks me up to bring me to the devil’s assistant, the periodontist.

I thought this was awesome though. Frosty’s evil twin, Freaky, is a man dressed up as a snowman who travels from city to city totally freaking out unsuspecting shoppers walking by (for our enjoyment of course). This episode was shot on Newbury Street in Boston. Hysterical.

Giving Hope to the Hopeless: Successful Online Dating


Some of my favorite things to read about on WordPress are dating blogs-especially online daters’ posts. Something that was once thought of as a desperate, last-resort attempt at NOT becoming a cat lady or creepy-old-guy-in-the-corner-of-a-dive-bar is now considered the “norm.”

DO YOU HEAR THAT MY OLD LEBANESE DAD?! THE NORM! You don’t have to go round up one of my third cousins to meet me at the alter once I hit 28.

Even when I told my mother about The Drummer, she was SUPER excited.OH! That’s AMAZING! Yer Auntie Judy did that YEARS ago. Put an ad out in the classifieds and she ended up marrying the guy! Imagine that? YOU COULD BE MARRIED!

Relax, mom. You’re making me want to run away from this guy.

Anyways, back to my post.

I’ve made it past 2 dates with someone “normal” from Okcupid and all of a sudden I feel like I’ve been touched by the online dating Gods, grown “beer muscles” and I’ve seen the light, so I want to share all of my Jesus loving dating wisdom with you all.

I wouldn’t consider myself an “expert” on dating, per say, but for the love of GOD I’ve been on enough dates AWFUL dates to consider myself at least a bit more seasoned than your average noob. I’m also very analytical about every step I take in the online dating process, and I’ve found some consistencies with success. Or at least how to not have a shitty date.

When I re-entered the online dating world a few months ago, I was EXTREMELY careful this time around. I followed a careful set of rules and it took me almost an entire month to go on a date. I chose The Drummer very carefully and completely changed how I approached online dating. Even if this thing I have going on doesn’t work out, at least I know I did a better job of finding a potential guy by actually trying a different method.


I know, I know. I could have used a better way of describing this rule without using YOLO, but dammit, this is America and I’ll do what I want. When I first started online dating, I went on several dates with men who seemed good looking and interesting, but there was something that just wasn’t there-even before going on the actual date. I’d say, “Oh, well. He’s cute and nice. I’ll just go on the date to see what happens. It can’t hurt.”


You know what hurts? Having that “feeling” and getting to the restaurant and realizing you were right.

You know what else hurts? Having that “feeling” and then THEIR TOOTH FALLS OUT OF THEIR MOUTH.

You know what else hurts? Having that “feeling” and having to tell countless guys that you’re just not into them.

Since the beginning of time, women have had intuition. It’s never failed us and it’s a gift. So fucking use it.


This is a pretty important one (though they really are all important). Online dating is worse than a box of the gamble chocolate you get on Valentine’s Day. You pick out a chocolate that “looks good” but it’s not enough. You need more info. And before you know it, you take that bite and it’s not what you thought it was going to be.

I’ve gone on many dates with guys who only had a few pictures. I’d get all excited, get to the date, and BAM. DUDE LOOKS NOTHING LIKE HIS PHOTOS. It’s false advertising. Especially the guys/girls who post photos of themselves from a decade ago. I get PISSED at make-up companies who put falsies on their mascara models, so don’t think I’m singling YOU out.

Dating Tip: If you really want to take a chance with the guy/girl with only one photo, once you move over to texting, start sending a picture here and there of yourself. NOT DIRTY PHOTOS *UNLESS YOU’RE INTO THAT SORT OF THING* but just some “hello” pictures. I’ve done this plenty of times and more often then not, they’ll send you a picture back. That way, you know you’re not talking to some 400 lb video gamer dude in Texas AND you get a real time photo. Not just “one of his best.”


Now, this sounds like it would be extremely difficult, but TRUST ME. It really isn’t. A lot of people complain about how let down they are when they meet someone online and there’s no connection or they weren’t what they seemed. I’ve complained about this many times until I started trying harder. I’d look at their photos and really try to visualize what it would feel like to be standing right in front of them. This has helped me weed out a lot of potentially bad dates. Try it, honestly. If you concentrated hard enough, I’m sure you could do it. Get that “feeling?” Refer to RULE #1.


Dating Tip: Along with this rule, FaceTime or Skype is a GREAT way to get a feel for how it would be meeting in real life. Chemistry is all about how you feel when you’re with that person. It’s an energy thing. You can’t fall in love with a picture. You need to see them move, hear them talk, notice their mannerisms. THAT is what makes chemistry.


To conclude this little information session, I just want to give you two words that sums up this ENTIRE process:



People that don’t like seafood, don’t eat lobster.

You’ll never see people who don’t like warm colors wearing orange.

And people who are super against drugs aren’t going to fucking smoke crack.

So, do yourself a favor, and be picky. One of the FEW times where it actually matters. If you really want to JUST SAY YES to the date, go for it. I’m only giving you guys the tips I found were useful.


Happy dating. And may the odds be ever in your favor.

Selfie: Oxford Dictionary’s Word of the Year

2 days ago, Oxford Dictionary announced their 2013 Word of the Year and awarded it to..that’s right.


 noun, informal (also selfy; plural selfies)

a photograph that one has taken of oneself, typically one taken with a smartphone or webcam and uploaded to a social media website

It’s not quite in the dictionary yet, but considering “Muggle” and “Gaydar” were both added less than 5 years ago, I think it’s safe to say “seflie” is on its way.

The earliest known use of the word dates back to 2002 on an ABC online forum:

“Um, drunk at a mates 21st, I tripped ofer [sic] and landed lip first (with front teeth coming a very close second) on a set of steps. I had a hole about 1cm long right through my bottom lip. And sorry about the focus, it was a selfie.”

How’s that for some real-time knowledge for ya’ll?

And now, my favorite selfie’s of the day:


NASA’s Japanese astronaut, Aki Hoshide. OUT OF THIS WORLD, Aki! Don’t forget to filter it and tag #groundcontroltomajortom


First of all, G.W, A DISPOSABLE CAMERA!? Someone get this dude an iPhone!

He looks so intent on getting the perfect shot, he forgot to smize. Tyra would be less than impressed.

And there you have it! Lara’s pointless, yet entertaining knowledge of the day.

For more info visit these:

This Weekend, I Date & Dance

AAAAAYYY Friday! I gotta keep this post quick today because in all actuality, I have a ton of work to do, so instead of sitting on WordPress for 8 hours, I should probably do some of that. This week has been absolutely INSANE. I’ve hardly had contact with anything except for school books this week, so Friday-I salute you.


I get a double dose of fun this weekend. I have Date #2 tonight with The Drummer. I chose the place this time. I’m pretty excited that the ice is already broken and those first date nerves are over. I really hate awkwardness (even though it’s my life, yo). AND tomorrow I am gay clubbing it up because I JUST WANNA DANCE! Boston has some amazing gay nights and Carmen Carrera from Rupaul’s Drag Race is going to be in the city this weekend! I love the gay club we go to on Saturdays because it’s filled with really good looking men who I can dance with without fearing that I will feel a boner coming from my dance partner. There is NO line in the women’s bathroom, and the lights make me feel like I’m in a JLo music video.


I have the awful task of picking out an outfit after work. I wish there was an app where you could send a series of pictures of yourself in certain outfits to be judged by a fashion expert on the other side. What if I decided to wear my red pants and skull shirt tonight?


Too soon? Alright, alright. Another time.

I have the annoying task of doing MONSTROUS amounts of homework this weekend as well. Sunday, when I’m hung over like crazy, the last thing I want to do is read a book about laws. Hold that thought, law book, I’m gonna vom real quick. My professor gives us an insane amount of homework. When one student asked for advice on how to handle reading all 200+ pages next week, plus our papers and usual work AND a midterm worth a quarter of our grade, the professor responded: “I SUGGEST you should do all your work.”



I will own you Professor B.

Whatever though. This class is only until December 22 and then I’m taking a hiatus from school until March. I’m exhausted. And technically going to school “for fun” so I can do it whenever I want.

All I care about is today. It’s Friday. I get to sleep in tomorrow. And when that clock says 5:00 PM, I’m out of this place.


The Time I Fought a Dude.

I figured since I’ve done a lot of stories about dating and break ups, I’d switch it up to something more bad ass. I mean, my name is Lara for God’s sake, after the incredible tomb raider, Ms. Croft.


Nah, nah. I’m kidding. I was named after some ho from Dr. Zhivago.


I was 19. Sweet, naïve, and college party ANIMAL. I moved off campus my sophomore year and lived with 3 other female animals. We felt so grown up. SO FREE.


Our apartment was “the” place to be Thursday through Saturday. We would do one HUGE beer run (since we were all extremely underage) and then play beer pong, smoke pot, and party until it was time to go to class the next morning or until we couldn’t drink anymore.

It was a great year besides a few choice issues.

Issue #1: I lived with a drug dealer.


Issue #2: I lived in a very “not so nice” part of town.


No, really. That’s a legit picture from my neighborhood. 100%

Issue #3: Said drug dealer was not so smart and used to deal pot to sketchy people from said neighborhood.

As you can probably already guess, we ran into MANY problems. These people would come up to my apartment off the streets without being invited. They would bust into my parties and sometimes create some havoc. Some claimed they were in gangs. Personally, I called bullshit on them. A real gang member would probably have murdered them.

Nonetheless, my parties were starting to look a lot like this.

untitled3  VS. untitled4

Saint Patrick’s Day, 2008

We had a monstrous party at my house that night. Everyone was wearing green. We had decorations and TONS of beer. There were a SHIT TON of people at my place that night.

I was in the middle of a game of beer pong. Dominating. Obviously. When all of a sudden, two of the sketchballs that were there to see my drug dealer roommate started arguing.

Side note: One guy was named Boogie. That is NOT a pseudo name. That shit was real. He told me once that he was given that name by his “bros” and I asked him if it was because they thought he was the Boogie Man.


Mr. Gang member was not to thrilled about that comparison.

As I’m playing beer pong, I hear their argument get louder. All of my 19 year old college friends looked absolutely petrified, so I knew none of them were going to step in. Need I remind you:

untitled4 VS. untitled3

I live with a bunch of girls, so I knew I was the only one who was going to stop the problem. I left my game and intervened.

I stepped in between the two guys and told them to knock it off. Surprisingly, Boogie kept his cool and backed away. The other dude was absolutely WASTED and was getting more violent. He started getting closer to Boogie, so once again, I stepped in the middle of them.

This time, the dude pushed me.

So, I did what any normal 19 year old girl would do to a 30 year old “gang” member, and I pushed him the FUCK back.

Then, he pushed me again.

Oh my God. You should have SEEN my friends’ faces. They were petrified.


So then, this dude pushes me. AGAIN. I had enough.

I told him to leave. He didn’t budge. So, I started pushing him out of my living room.

I lived on the second floor of an apartment. The door in my living room led to the stairs that created the exit for my unit.

I opened the living room door. Dude pushes me.

THAT IS FUCKING IT. I was too drunk for this shit.

I jumped on him.

I’ve never fought a dude before, and I really didn’t know what to do, so I put him in a headlock. I started to drag him towards the open living room door when all of a sudden, he pushed me down the stairs. Forgetting I had him in a headlock, he came right down with me.


Now, I don’t know how I did it, but I STILL had this guy in a headlock even all the way down the stairs.

My downstairs neighbors came out looking PISSED THE HELL OFF, and then after realizing I was fighting a guy twice my size, they tried to help me.

My neighbors: Lara! We’re calling the cops!


Hahahaha. Who the hell do I think I am?


Still in a headlock, said dude and I fall to the ground on my front porch.

After about a minute of wrestling him on the ground, the cops show up. I let him go from my grasp and the cops took him and drag him away.

After the cops drove away, I drunkenly proceeded up the stairs back to the party.

I open the door and there, all 30-40 of my friends were completely frozen in time, their eyes on me.

My spot at the pong table was still open. I honestly don’t think anyone moved an inch for that [probably] ten minutes.


I felt fine at the moment, but when I awoke the next morning, I was COVERED from head to toe in bruises and gashes.

Probably wasn’t the smartest thing I did.

Probably could have gotten myself killed.

But that was bad ass.

And I won that game of beer bong.