Hey there! Welcome to lauramarijan.com! 

I hope you will enjoy my BLOG and VLOG posts, which you will find on here. They're mostly about things that I think are funny, and hopefully you'll think so too. From time to time I get serious as I go through times of self-discovery, so go ahead and discover yourself with me. I give you permission. 

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Thanks so much for taking a look! I appreciate my readers/watchers (not stalkers) immensely!

Laura

BUNK: Home Dec Edition

The Rabbit and The Fox

What follows is the most honest piece of writing I produced in all my years of elementary school. This book, written in second grade, follows my first grade plagiarism of P.D. Eastman's "Are You My Mother?", cleverly disguised under the title, "The Egg". Closely following this, is a book entitled, "The Cat and the Dog", which is the piece of work I am perhaps most ashamed of, and this is closely followed by a book of poetry featuring a poem called, "Balls". 

I believe that this story says a lot about who I am and shows my potential as a writer, an artist and as a human being.

Without further ado, I give you, "The Rabbit and The Fox".

 THE END.

There, that's all. I hope you liked it.

FOREVER LAZY COMMERCIAL

This is by far the weirdest infomercial I've seen in a long time. Although I'm glad to see that I can wear the Forever Lazy while I hang out in the parking lot with my friends.

It's That Time of the Year...

It's the end of November already and I cannot believe how time has flown! Recently I spoke with some of my American friends about the holidays and how, with their Thanksgiving approaching this week, they are still in the thick of their turkey and leaves decorating schemes. I guess once Thanksgiving day is over stores can put up their Christmas trees, or whatever they're allowed to put up these days. A holiday cardboard box. A holiday stick. Anyway, in Canada, once Halloween is over, Christmas has begun. There is no in-between holiday, we get right to the point. Christmas is coming and we're freakin' excited about it.

Although it has been a freezing day, after work I went for a run around my neighborhood. Dressed warm with my new reflective jacket I jogged up and down the darkened streets.

I was enjoying the decorated houses of the eager beavers who could not wait to put up their twinkly lights. Reindeer! YAY! Santa! YAY! Bloody handprint on the window! Umm. Either we have a very sloppy serial killer on the loose or not everyone has made the transition over to Christmas. I saw pumpkins, skeletons, all intermingled with the pretty joys of flashing lights and stars. I even saw a black cat who obviously did not receive the memo that he should be packed away in storage by now.

This is the problem for us Canadians. It's far to late for turkeys, about 22 days late for Halloween...and maybe 9 days too early for Christmas. It leaves us with what I would like to call "Nightmare Before Christmas Syndrome" or NBCS. Its starts looking like a freakish mess of a holiday where Santy Claws is going to come deliver man-eating jack-in-the-boxes.

And I do not know what this is about...

If only I had gotten to that serial killer before he took the life of this oversized stuffed parrot. December will be here soon enough to save us from this atrocity.

Revelation from the Movies

Okay, Wednesday...we're going to be okay, folks.

On Saturday I went to the movies. Alone. Some people get this and some people don't, but unless I can be sure that my movie-watching companion is going to sit quietly and watch the movie, I'd rather go alone. When some friends recently suggested a Lord of the Rings marathon, I said no. Not everyone seems to understand that the LOTR films are not talking movies. Don't even get my started on "no eating movies". If someone is laughing while Frodo is leaving for the Grey Havens, there will be blood.

Speaking of blood. Saturday. I went to the movies. Just the pizza I smuggled into my purse and I. We went to go see Drive...finally! I was relieved it was still in theatres because I've been dying to see it since TIFF in September. And...it was awesome! Ryan Gosling is great. Really. I love him. And he is not a good person in this movie either. He hurts people pretty severely. Note: This film is not for those with weak stomachs.

After watching this movie I was feeling a variety of emotions:

1. Disappointment: Ryan and I would probably never live happily ever after.
2. Joy/Excitement: The movie was throughly enjoyable.
3. Angstment/Dispair: Wait a second...I'm an actress, why the heck am I not acting in awesome movies like this?!?! I'M A RECEPTIONIST!!!!!!!! (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

I left the theatre and walked for a very long time. I walked across a bridge with a Crisis Hotline number posted at the opening. I called and we chatted for a while.

"You're a receptionist?!" they said.

"I KNOW!" I said. "But I have the heart of an actress. And one day I want to be in a movie where I stab someone in the chest with a shower curtain rod!"

And from that moment I had new drive (woah, I didn't even try), and once again I am determined to always pretend to be someone else. You know why? Because not everyone is an actress. If they were, they would tell their own stories by acting them out on camera. Since this is not the case...there are those who get paid to act like other people and recreate their life. For the most part I am one who does not get paid to act like other people, but I hope to be paid for this in the future.

A Cat Followed Me Home

i found a cat on my porch today.

he followed me home i guess.

and as soon as i saw this cat i loved him.

(at this point, i'm sure my mother reading this is getting pretty nervous)

i don't even like cats-

with some exceptions.

but i had been thinking yesterday about how i wanted a pet.

(at this point my mother would say, you have a pet, he lives with your dad and i.)

and i thought, my goodness, this cat has been sent by God to be my pet.

i played with him for a while and then went inside, leaving him there.

scat. i said. because there's not really another occasion to use this word...other than when you're talking about singing like a- ...i can't even think of a comparison, but thinking about all this buh, bi, bop, bopidoo, bop bop...is driving me crazy.

i told the cat, he better go ahead and leave, because it would take some self control for me not to take him in as my own.

like in tarzan.

i went inside, took care of some business, though i couldn't help but go back and look out the front door a few minutes later.

the cat was still there.

he needed me.

he loved me.

and i loved him.

(mom: oh brother...)

i went back outside and played with him some more.

then i hear someone call over to me.

it's my neighbour, a couple houses down.

"oh you're playing with Sela!"

beat.

'this is YOUR cat???????'

"yes, i have three."

beat.

(he has three)

'oh. 

ok.

he's pretty.'

and you know he still tried to follow me into my house?

disappointment was followed by relief as i thought about all the hair that would be on my clothes and the filthy litter box i would have to clean out.

that cat already had a home.

and i don't really like cats anyway.

i can't believe you ate that!

Remember when you used to do something gross to a piece of candy, like rub it on the ground, and then offer it to someone? Usually this was done in groups, because it's funnier when other people are in on the joke. Then you'd watch and be like, "Ohh! I can't believe you ate that!!!" Right?

I was thinking about this today at work while I sat at my desk, in my lady bug costume, folding invoices and eating Hershey bars (little ones). Maybe I was thinking about my childhood because my mother had made this lady bug costume for me when I was five years old. I remember when I started to think that any time a classmate offered me something delicious, it must have been tampered with. Hey want a cookie? What did you do to it? was usually the response. Fool me once, shame on me. Shame me twice...shame on...oh wait... But, could you imagine doing that as an adult? Hey want a donut? What did you do to it? I swished it around in the toilet and then painstakingly dried it for a couple hours on a paper towel. We would only get more creative with time, but hopefully we've also matured enough not to feed our friends toilet donuts.

Just sayin'.

Hope you enjoyed Halloween and some adult-friendly candy.

My 1 Year Anniversary

i'm contemplating writing a story.

I have anxiety in the pit of my gut. And my heart is fluttering a bit...but I think that's more my afternoon coffee. I'm considering taking part in National Novel Writing Month (http://www.nanowrimo.org/), which happens throughout November, and would have me committed to writing a novel in a month. A novel. In a month. This is no small feat. And I'm pretty nervous to commit to something like this. (Ha.) Because I feel like there is a high risk of failure involved. Well, maybe not failure...but high risk of writing something really terrible! Maybe this is why writers have pseudonyms...so they can cover their butts if their book sucks. I don't know how to write a story! I just write about myself. (That sounds awful...but let's be real.) I guess I could do an autobiographical tale.

When I was little I loved to write stories...I should scan one and post it up here. My favourite follows the close, but unlikely, friendship of a rabbit and a fox. They are great friends. Until the end, when my last line states, "And then the fox ate the rabbit." Perhaps even better is reading the 'comments' section where my teacher and parents all express their shock at my choice of ending. There's a story-teller in me somewhere. With an ending like that, how can there not be?!

I'm reading this book by Stephen King, "On Writing", and he says as a writer you need to have writing goals for how much you want to write each day...and you need a room with a door, to lock yourself in until you've reached your daily goal. I share a room. So I'm not sure how this is going to work. Maybe I can make a writing studio out of a giant cardboard box and go sit in there for my writing time. Maybe I can write a novel about a girl who lives in a cardboard box. Meh, I'll figure it out. Hey, I'll let you know.

Cheers,
-Katinka Tattersall

Laura Gets a Hair Cut

I go get my hair trimmed yesterday. Trimmed. The stylist asks me what I want done. A trim, I say. Make it look nice. He starts giving me all these other options. No, I say. A trim, thank you. 

Hair dressers always assume that you want a dramatic change. I've had some dramatic changes and you know what they come with? Dramatic regrets. It's like most hair dressers are waiting for some eccentricity to walk through their door and ask for half their head to be shaved and the rest to be cornrowed and dyed teal. "Yesss! Yesss!" they cackle. Maybe I want to look just about the same as when I entered the salon, rather than having to later face my aghast friends as they chime in, wowwwww...........you chaaaanged your hairrrrrrr.......What do you think? When left with nothing positive to say it's reasonable to ask the victim what they think of their corrupt mess. It's not as forthright, but far more appropriate than other things I have swimming around in my head.

When I go to get my hair done, sometimes I feel like I'm attending a Roast Party for my hair. Your hair is damaged! It's dull! Drab! Have you thought of color? Highlights? Your hair is so dry that-

Literally, I go to the hair dresser and for the first few minutes they point out everything wrong with my hair. Sometimes they'll even take the condensed version and spread it out over the entire 45 minutes. I think they want me to feel so awful about myself that I'll crumble at their mercy and beg them to give me highlights. Well, I don't think so. I have become very defensive about my hair ever since the one time I had it highlighted. It was the result of a spa package I was gifted. The highlights were free! Again, that would be like kicking Freebie Man in the face. So I stressed, "Sun-kissed! No really, like the sun itself has lightly kissed my hair." I came out looking like Pepe le Pew. I vowed to leave my hair natural until I go grey, when I will become a blond like the rest of the women over 50.

One of my favourite things about getting a hair cut, is that they take that half hour to style my hair. That half hour I never take. And since there is so much product holding it all together, it lasts at least a couple days. Most people don't notice I even had a haircut. Just as it should be.

Canadian Thanksgiving! Eat More Lamb!

http://www.crewsnest.vispa.com/tgivingcanadatop.jpg

This past weekend was Canadian Thanksgiving, which is like American Thanksgiving, but I don't think it's about stealing land from Native Americans. And if it was, we would probably be more polite.

Canadians still eat most of the same food that Americans do, except we don't have that fizzy apple cider, or green bean casserole, or the jello that is only allowed to be eaten with dinner one day a year. My family added lamb to our repertoire this year, I guess because we didn't have enough food. I think we could have fed 20 people. Or 13 Marijans & Co.. There was so much food, in fact, that halfway through dinner my cousin leans over to me and asks if my mom made [the famous] sweet potato casserole. She had. It was still in the freezer. My mom had been so proactive in making it a week in advance that she forgot about it. But my mum is clever, and on tossing the casserole in the oven she dubbed the dish "Sweet Potato Crisp". And there was much rejoicing. We added it to our dessert course, which almost immediately followed our dinner course.

Ever since I can remember, our family has had eating competitions. Not gross, Man vs. Food, challenges, more slow and steady eating challenges. And often I won. I took pride in this...until I turned 19 and learned that gorging yourself on ice cream cake has its consequences. This Thanksgiving was Challenge: Lamb Chops. The cousin was dethroned in this event by the sister's BF...the cousin who consistently fills his plate almost entirely with meat. 

My kind-hearted mother bought some Tupperware containers so that my sister and I could bring some leftovers home the next day, but there were two problems. First, we had eaten most of the food so there wasn't much to bring home. Second, after one meal of leftovers the thought of ever eating a turkey dinner again made me want to hurl.

I was determined to eat nothing but soup and salad all week so that I would undo the damage that this weekend had caused. That went well until today. There was a dessert potluck at work, because apparently we hadn't eaten enough on the weekend (I didn't even mention that I had gone to the Cheesecake Factory the night before Thanksgiving dinner. Enough said.). I remember reading the headline, a while back, to an article entitled, "Is Your Job Making You Fat?". And while I was eating brownies and shortbread-wrapped Toblerone bar, I reflected on this article. I don't remember what it said, but I don't think it matters. I thought, "Yes, my job is making me fat." And so are holidays.

I guess that's why there are only a few in a year. Hopefully they balance out in the end. I'm eating salad for dinner.

Old Jewish Woman!

I know you're wondering if I ever got my free McDonald's McSpresso beverage. I predicted I would forget to redeem said coupon, and although this is not the case, it is not too far from the truth.

After work I go to the McDonald's by my train stop, which is filled with the most shady people I have ever seen in my neighbourhood. Go figure. And someone STEALS my coupon! No, that didn't happen. Could you imagine? No, no, no, the problem was that this particular McDonald's had no McCafe. No, McKidding! I then go home to get ready for my triple-threat - dancing, singing and Cirque du Soleil - audition and hope that there might be a McDonald's in the area. Why is it that the golden arches are everywhere until you despretely want one to be there? My coupon did expire. You just can't halt time. I left my audition that night after midnight, and one of my first thoughts after hiting the fridgid air was, "It's cold!", followed shortly by, "Ahhhh...my cooooooooouuupon...".

My audition was LONG! Almost five hours. Lots of waiting. Lots of uni kids. Lots of uni kids asking me what I was doing at their school. Although the experience began in horror as the waiting area sounded like a club and smelled of beer (Hello! I am an ac-tor from New York!), on entering the audition rooms the evening took a turn for the better. I sang, I danced (and actually somewhat followed choreography), and of course, acted. I had a moment during the monologue portion, in the midst of five male auditioners yelling out characters for me to impersonate - "Old Jewish Woman!" "Evil witch who is afraid of getting melted by water!" "Southern Cheerleader!" "Disfigured Sidekick!" - when it dawned on me - "EVEN MORE DISFIGURED!" - that in an audition setting, us actors will do nearly anything. "A fish that's just been caught and is wriggling around on the ground!" I didn't do that one...but I'm pretty sure I would have if they asked. It would have been funny. For them.

P.S. If you're wondering about the picture of Jack Nicholson at the top...I Google imaged "Actor" and this is the first image that came up. I wonder if he knows that about himself. Followed by: James Marsden, Matt LeBlanc, Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze. There you go, the best actors in the world.

Coupons and Singing

Thank goodness it's Friday, right?

I requested a bunch of catalogue mailings today so that I could receive some colorful things in the mail. Now that I've gone paperless with virtually everything I'm signed up for, I find that I miss getting all that paper.

Apres work, I have, "Go To McDonald's!" on the agenda. I have a coupon for a free coffee, which expires today. How is it that I always let coupons hide out in my wallet until the last possible day, when suddenly a free latte becomes an added stressor in my life? Because even if I don't want the coffee, to give up a free one would be out of the question. It would be like spitting Freebie Man in the face. Still, it will likely slip my mind that I am to go claim my FREE-McCafe espresso-based beverage, and tomorrow morning I'll have a fit as I pass by a McDonald's and remember my freaking coupon.

After my big plans at Mickey D's I need to go home and warm-up for an audition I have this evening. I've had "Audition!" (which is a rendition I made up, of Fiddler on the Roof's "Tradition") stuck in my head all day. I'm in a musical frame of mind because, for some reason - I was bought by compliments - I am auditioning for a sketch comedy/musical extravaganza. And this means singing and dancing while also being hilarious. Since I can't sing or dance without being hilarious, this should be doable. To prepare, earlier this week I went through my musical hits library, which includes extensive Disney selections, Moulin Rouge and the song, "I Will Never Leave You", a duet I learned in theatre school. I've taken to the streets, singing nearly everywhere I go. In New York, I was taught this trick where, as you wait for the subway, you can sing at full belt when the train passes by. Not that you can't do this anytime you want in NYC, really.

Okay, singing: Covered. Dancing? Only the Lord can help me with this one. All I have under my belt is an intro to ballet class, aerobics and a Shania Twain dance I co-choreographed and co-starred in in 3rd Grade.

I'll just go ahead and assume that this will be one of those laugh-about-it-or-cry-about-it scenarios. I'll get back to you.

BUNK Episode 5

BUNK Episode 4

BUNK Episode 3

BUNK Episode 2

BUNK Pilot Episode

On Asian Guys Carrying Their Girlfriend's Purses

I've made an observation. Just an observation. A trend, if you will. On a regular basis I see Asian guys carrying their girlfriend's purses (and shopping bags). That's it. That's my observation. But how great is this? Ladies, do you, or do you not want someone to carry your purse for you? Right?

I'm not sure how the Asian ladies swung this, but I think it's the perfect solution to the everyday problem of carrying things. Get a boyfriend who will carry your stuff for you.

Now, I am not the only one who has pondered this conundrum. A blogger on Mooiness.com writes:

"I can only think of a few exceptions when you should hold on to her [your girlfriend's] handbag or purse:

• She’s trying on clothes.
• She’s going to a public toilet and she doesn’t want to carry it in.
• She’s holding your baby."