I love The Onion because it’s smart. It’s sarcastic. It is “fake” news, but like sexual orientation, there’s always a spectrum. Real or not real, The Onion draws from true thoughts, fears, and opinions, and extracts them. Makes you think.

I love The Onion because it feels what I feel. So read this article. It’s great. 

8.4 Million New Yorkers Suddenly Realize New York City A Horrible Place To Live

Welcome to English Class 207; today you will be learning some new words and phrases.

In other words, I say weird shit.

And you’re going to read about it. 

First up is LOL. I started saying “lol” as a joke to make fun of aim lingo, but then I started using it so regularly…in every day conversation…that it would be hypocritical of me to say I still use it insincerely. LOL, or “laughing-out-loud” is quite universal, and I use it in place of the words “funny,” “humorous,” or even “hahahah.”  Moreover, it can be used as a noun, verb, or adjective! Let’s go to the chalkboard:

“Oh man, that was so LOL.”  Adjective. 

“That movie was really funny, I LOL’ed all night.” Verb.

“LOL.” Noun. (right?)

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Next is a series of words I use that pretty much explain why I’m single.  I usually say things like yo dude, or hey man. I really like referring to a guy as man when I’m talking to him, which seems like a sort of masculine thing to do. Also, when I should respond to thing guys say with an “I agree!” or “you’re totally right,” I say word. 

Nice looking guy: “Hey, my name is Dean. What’s yours?”

Stupid me: “Yo dude, my name’s Laura.”

Nice looking guy: “Oh cool, my sister’s name is Laura.”

Stupid me: “Word.”

Stupid me (to friend): “Where did that nice looking guy go?”

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Next is my take on “you’re welcome.” If someone ever thanks me, I ALWAYS say no worries. I have no idea where this came from. Whatever. (Word?) No worries, it’s all good. I say that a lot too. It’s all good. 

  Because it is. Right?

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This next one is very important to me. Hard Chilling. I don’t know where I came up with this phrase, but it holds a very special place in my heart.  I have a friend from college who still tells me that her dad asks about me from time to time, inquiring if “Laura is well, and is she hard chilling?” Now listen: hard chilling isn’t just an act, it’s a mindset. Think, meditation for hipsters. Maybe.  It’s hard to put down into words, but just know that when times get rough, you should sit down and hard chill. 

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Lastly, dt. This stands for downtown, and everyone should use it as leisurely as I do. Wherever I am, if I want to have even moreee fun, or go on an adventure, I suggest “going dt.” You can be in Texas, New York, Sri Lanka, I don’t care. You should all go dt. And while you’re at it, have a dp. (I’ll let you figure that one out for yourselves.)

Class dismissed. lol. 

I experienced my own mini 9/11 the other day in the city.  I was in a coffee shop (sounds better than saying Starbucks) when I heard a loud explosion and saw people running down the sidewalk, covering their faces from the smoke that was filling up the street.  Oddly, I looked around me and nobody seemed startled by the predicament we were in.

Turns out it was just a manhole explosion. No big.

In other news, I apologize for recently being MIA.  My cant-sit-still-must-be-doing-something-productive-at-all-times-lifestyle has been flourishing lately.  I  began interning in the rotten-apple itself, as the editor for a new Charity Blog that’s being launched on a very popular website in NYC.  Since I’m so caring and love to work for free, I balance being in the office three days a week with waitressing on Long Island three days a week, leaving me with Thursdays to feel unproductive and lazy.  The blogging thing has been going well so far, except that sitting in front of a computer all day is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done….in my life.

I’ve also been thinking about my past year, and how many people have deemed it “bizarre.”  I guess when I speak about it it does sound a bit crazy;  I graduated, went on a camping trip across the country, moved to Maryland, interned at the Smithsonian, found a waitressing job, moved into DC and lived with three gentlemen and a dog, interned at another nonprofit and learned how to write grants, moved back to NY, flew to San Francisco to temporarily join a band and go on tour across the country, found myself back in NY, got another waitressing job, got a tattoo, got an internship, repeated the word “got” a lot, and landed three actual job interviews (one in NYC, one in Boston, one in ….Liberia.)

I guess that’s kind of weird.

Or maybe it’s my generation.  My past year might sound crazy, but my other friends are embarking on different, yet just as exciting adventures.  I have a friend in the Peace Corps in St. Vincent, and another that moved to Seattle to work for the JVC.  Nicole moved to Manhattan to get her Master’s, is now the personal assistant for one of the most powerful woman lawyers in NYC, is helping write an African cookbook, and is going to Iceland in August.  My other friend moved to Chile to teach English, became fluent in Spanish, and landed a nonprofit job in Santiago.  Ali lived in Canada before moving back to NY, getting a job at a medical school and going back to school herself.

So maybe I’m not that crazy.

                                                       Or maybe, we all are.

Side note: Can you see what I covertly snapped a picture of?  That’s a guy on the LIRR with a disc-man in his lap.  Thank you, Man. You have restored my faith in humanity.

this is my desktop picture.

I named her Helga.

I have a weird sense of humor. I didn’t think Super Bad was funny, and I think Will Ferrell should basically… give up. I usually laugh at anti-feministic jokes (don’t hate me), and I think the joke “what did the fish say when he swam into the wall? ..dam!” is the funniest joke IN THE WORLD.

That being said, most “funny” things on youtube don’t interest me, especially if they’re over two minutes long. But please, please…watch this video.  It’s pretty much the best.  And if you agree, go to this chick’s website and watch more episodes!

Am I right, or am I right?  

You don’t have to answer that. 

Happy Fourth of July and then some! I hope all of you working folks enjoyed the long weekend and are appreciative that you only have a four-day week to tackle.  Mr or Mrs Worker, what does this feel like? I’d really like to know. Which brings me to this first piece of infomation:

Did you know that a lot of government organizations have to post jobs online even if they already have a person lined up to fill the position? This means that about 85 thousand of my last 2.7 million or however-many-cover-letters-I-have-written- had a zero chance of being read before I wrote them. Well……..that’s cool.

In other news. Casey Anthony? That one threw me for a loop, maybe even two. Still, the fault doesn’t lie with the jury, but our judicial system as a whole. The jury is told to convict “without a reasonable doubt”; she probably killed her kid, but the prosecution didn’t establish their case well enough.  But I just have to think, what if Casey was a black male? She’d probably already be in jail.

Also, “diarrhea” is a very hard word to spell. I had to look that up just now.  I also had a tough time with “restaurant” until I started taking French in 7th grade. “Restaurant” is spelled the same way en francais; leave it to learning a foreign language to force you to learn how to spell in your own.

Why do raspberries come in the smallest containers? 

You can make a lot of money working at a restaurant. Unfortunately, working at a restaurant is also one of the most awful jobs on the planet.  I’ve realized that working in an environment that I strongly dislike doesn’t just take away my time, it takes away …me. I become an angry person when people yell at me for steaks too pink, lobsters too messy, crab salads too small. I’m sorry there is too much vermouth in your martini, you said extra dry. Bread doesn’t always have to be warm. 

Are a lot of these statements & questions spiteful? Lets fix this.

I have great friends. I hope you do, too. I’m sure you do.  Here are two of mine:

Left: Me and Ali. 4th of July. We went back to her apartment to drunkingly “rest up” after our Turkish bartender gave us free bloody mary’s, along with giving me his business card (Is this still a thing?). Perhaps the key to love is going after the ones that barely speak English. 

Right: Me and Nic.  Yep, I’m in both of  my “these are my friends!” pictures. It’s my blog, I can do what I want. If you’re a COiA reader, you know Nicole.  It’s a classic candid; we’re obviously talking about something important, maybe even conflicting.

Lastly, have you been to the Hungarian Pastry Shop on 111th and Amsterdam?  You should go. Pictured is a Hungarian Coffee (coffee, almond extract, whipped cream, and cinnamon) and an almond horn. So Good. Eaten across from a best friend with a Russian Coffee and fresh crossiant, Even Better.

To those, myself included, that have forgotten about Long Island:

Its long pathways tucked between full, towering trees.

Large fields that extend acres upon acres, without a person in sight.

The views that are simply hiding.

Houses that do not have neighbors on either side, back or front. Only leaves.

And the sunsets that expand across the huge, open sky.

Sometimes, I live here.

It could be worse.

Finally.

About a month ago, Nicole and I were walking down Broadway, slightly south of Morningside Heights, when we found a debit card on the ground.  We brought it back to her apartment and I did some detective work.  After googling the man’s name, I was able to find an email address.  Long story short, after playing phone tag with him at his architectural business the following day, I agreed to deliver the card to his friend’s bellman on 96th and Central Park West. Sort of weird.  Out of kindness, he expressed that he wanted to give me some sort of reward, but I refused. 

Is it hypocritical to try and build up good karma solely because you wish to receive something even greater in return?

Definitely.  

Maybe the Karma gods knew this was my intention, so they waited over a month to have a stranger pay it forward to me.  Still, my turn came yesterday when I tried to buy an iced-tea at a cash-only coffee shop.  I only had my debit card, and after I pathetically tried to dig out $3 worth of dimes and nickels from my bag, and older gentlemen next on line ordered an iced tea and handed it to me.

Bryan (Brian?), I doubt you will ever read this, but if you do….thank you for the drink.  If you did this simply out of the goodness of your heart, something great will happen to you soon.  If you bought me a drink with the intention of good karma coming right back at you, just be patient.

It all started in 9th grade when I played basketball.  I though that was my thing until one of my coaches pointed out that I was way better at chasing my opponent on a breakaway than I was shooting any foul shot.  

I was fast.

So I joined spring track.  At first it was torture.  I, like most freshman girls, want to be a sprinter.  I liked races that were over in less than thirty-seconds and required quick workouts.  Instead, I was forced to go on “long” runs and train for middle-distance.  I remember not being able to run more than twenty-minutes at a time; my legs would be burning, I could barely breathe, and did not understand how even growing up as an athlete, I could barely run two miles.

But the human body is incredible, as is the human mind.  If you think you just can’t run, you’re wrong! So….long story short, I excelled. I fell in love with both track and cross-country. Can’t you tell??

Our 4×800 relay even made it to NY States my junior year. Big deal stuff. 

Anyways, I graduated highschool and decided that the competitive streak in me was over.  I was looking forward to a life that didn’t include daily practices: runs, workouts, lifting, stretching, pain.  I stopped running for a while, but soon realized that I missed something. It wasn’t the track meets, the metals, or the nerves.  I had enjoyed all of that but had moved on from it.  I simply missed the act of running.

Since I stopped running on a track team, I have learned to love running more than I ever had. I have found a way to run (almost/kinda) every single day for the past five years on my own accord, and it never has seemed like something I have had to do. It’s simply a part of me.

 I’ve run every loop possible in Northport, through the trails on Long Island’s State Parks, on resort grounds in Puerto Rico, through my campus at the University of Ghana, and on the busy streets of Manhattan.  I’ve run through the Adirondack woods, the awfully-humid air near my grandmother in Florida, and on countless treadmills in gyms at Skidmore and in Washington D.C.

I run because it makes me feel wonderful. Yes, you can reach a point where you can run for an hour and not be in pain; it actually feels great.  While I run I think about EVERYTHING, and my thoughts are usually full of motivation and optimism. And after? Pure adrenaline and endorphins up the wazoo.  

And sweat. Lots of sweat.

They say running is not a sport–it’s a lifestyle.  Whoever “they” is…..well, they’re right. 

The honeymoon has just started for marriage equality; last week, gay marriage was finally legalized in New York State.  The debate honestly infuriates me; there is absolutely no reason why gay couples should not be allowed the same legal rights as straight couples.

I get it.  Marriage is historically a bibical matter.  It’s the union between a man and wife, under God.  However, marriage has radically transformed into largely a legal status, and even the most heathen of them all can get married–as long as they’re straight.

And what about the gays?  Even the most religious of them have been denied marriage.  They could be insanely in love, completely devoted to one another.  It doesn’t matter.  And let’s not even discuss the divorce rate these days between heterosexuals; even the most instable couples are granted marriage rights, even if they are getting married for the wrong reasons.

But gays can get a civil union! So what? Civil Unions are state-based and do not grant partners the same protections, such as such as taxation, pension protections, provision of insurance for families, and programs like Medicaid.  Whereas with marraige, you are granted social security, judicial protections and immunity, immigration and residency for partners from other countries, medicare, child support, estate and gift tax benefits, and welfare.  (these aren’t even half of them!)

The way I see it, even the most unloving pagan couple can get married in Vegas and be granted all of these rights, and a devoted gay couple cannot.  How is this fair? Marriage is no longer simply a religious tradition, so the conservatives in our nation need to get the sticks out of their asses and realize how incredibly wrong it is to try and deny marriage rights to gays.  I seriously do not think Jesus would mind.

I applaud New York State (and Massachusettes, Connecticut, Iowa, Vermont, New Hampshire) for this victory.

 I wonder when the other 44 states will do the same.