tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47377103574831482912011-11-27T18:28:04.310-05:00because snark.com was takenthelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.comBlogger701100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-57284478836419672582011-10-10T13:08:00.001-04:002011-10-10T13:08:48.454-04:00

I am so over the term, "Like a fish out of water." I don't know if all of you have had the extensive icthyologous experience that I have, so I'm just gonna tell you: A fish out of water is dead. It's not "like" anything, except maybe something that flops sadly on its side for a few minutes before expiring. Really, the only way I can see it working as a simile is:  "He was shot in the stomach,

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-36528484069052331172011-08-19T12:09:00.000-04:002011-08-19T12:09:52.877-04:00

When you're in the suburbs and it's raining and you're terribly bored, it sometimes seems like a good idea to go to the movies. The magic of Hollywood will amuse and enrapture you, and you will have two or three fewer hours to try desperately to fill. Such was the thinking when I went to see the latest Planet of the Apes movie last weekend: our scene opens on L and G slouched on the couch in a

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-88925771082709718572011-08-07T16:09:00.001-04:002011-08-07T16:12:00.972-04:00

I like birds because they always look pissed off: Harumph Hrmm It's like they think someone is always trying to put one over on them. Don't test my patience; you certainly DID say TWO worms! Sometimes I want to grab them by their feathery little bird-shoulders and shake them and yell, "You can fly! Why are you so angry?" The ability to fly is distinctly the opposite of getting screwed,

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-71601247680884656242011-07-30T14:33:00.003-04:002011-07-30T20:48:45.304-04:00

I know that my lovely, wonderful, caring parents understand me because they are always recommending top-notch films and television dramas for my viewing pleasure. They don't just throw out recommendations willy-nilly - they have an exacting, hi-tech, algorithm-filled vetting process that goes a little something like this: 1) Watch. 2) Become confused. 3) Decide the watched thing is weird. 4) Call

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-80292855893163704402011-07-07T22:31:00.001-04:002011-07-07T23:19:47.678-04:00

Here's how I wanted to start this entry: "I talk to myself more than anybody I know." This statement is true - in a way. I really do talk to myself A LOT. In fact, I would say I am keeping a conversation running in my head at least 87% of the time that I am awake. [PS: I almost put "alive" there instead of "awake". DO NOT PANIC. It was just a mistype; I am NOT a vampire. I am always alive..

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-17367000360257147952011-07-01T15:42:00.007-04:002011-07-01T16:11:03.337-04:00

I don't often buy things online. Mostly, this is because I'm cheap, and I simply do not buy things anywhere, ever, unless they are edible. Time and the cruel streets of New York had other plans, though. My shoes - trusty since freshman year of college - had gotten so hole-y that my students were beginning to think I was a secret hobo who lived under my desk. And goodness knows you can't trust a

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-37275546190220688802011-02-12T16:55:00.002-05:002011-07-01T14:24:49.241-04:00

I used to think that owning an umbrella meant I was a grown-up. In my defense, it was an extremely rad umbrella: an impressively spring-loaded implement in a mature, steely-gray.  I was a freshman in college, and I wrote a whole essay about it (for fun, by the way, just on my computer one day. Aside from being stupid, I was also a mega-dork. Not like now, when I write in a BLOG which is so very

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-5471185958678735492011-01-17T11:28:00.010-05:002011-01-17T11:59:31.481-05:00

thelaurenbell crawls from her deep, dank hibernation space to tell you this: please, dear people, cut those stitches that hold the tails of your coats together. Your coat tails are not an extra sleeve, or a wee little headhole for small-headed people who enjoy wearing their coats upside down. They are not a special breathing apparatus hole for when you do that thing where one person sits on

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-19156783759136034852010-07-23T16:15:00.000-04:002010-07-23T16:15:17.639-04:00

My mom reads my blog (that's why it's always so squeaky-clean and full of happiness and flowers). Whenever you see comments that are from "anonymous," and that end in "love you! - mom," those are from her. I'd like to give my mom a shout-out today for not only reading and commenting on my blog, but for greatly enhancing its content. She is the astute commenter, dear readers, who pointed out

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-66687822044920869622010-07-18T11:46:00.001-04:002010-07-18T11:51:32.458-04:00

Per my weekend routine, I was watching CBS Sunday Morning a few hours ago. It was delightful. The End. JK dudes! I had to write something because, during the peaceful, simple hour and a half of CBSSM, a commercial came on that nearly shattered my conception of everything CBSSM is about. There was a dark screen, and a fierce orchestral screeching struck up! Murky, quasi-religious symbols

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-20851891619742223262010-07-09T11:18:00.001-04:002010-07-09T11:20:32.501-04:00

I don't know anything about basketball. Nor do I care anything about Cleveland, but still, something  - perhaps the collective rage-gasm that is shaking all of non-Miami America, rattling their bones and forcing them to extreme quotation marks usage? - makes me want to understand this whole LeBron James thingamajig (and by that, I mean, garble out a ridiculous metaphor that I thought up in the

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-42043502221453076672010-07-03T23:10:00.003-04:002010-07-03T23:51:26.025-04:00

I'm writing a lot about shower products lately. Bear with me - I spend a lot of time either in the shower or thinking I should be in the shower because I smell kinda funky (thanks, Tom's of Maine deodorant stick of worthlessness!).Getting so much face time with bath products has made me curious: why is everything written on the bottle in perfectly clear English repeated in French on the exact

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-40491034375506125512010-07-02T17:23:00.004-04:002010-07-02T17:51:10.928-04:00

There are many things in this life that I truly, desperately need: liquid assets, a place to live, a magical portkey to the world of Harry Potter (minus that trollop Ginny Weasley). These things are serious, and I will not live happily without them.There are other things, though, that I can admit to not needing. In fact, I would go so far as to say the world does not need them. One of

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-68092646684401648242010-04-15T14:55:00.006-04:002010-04-15T15:10:10.316-04:00

OF COURSE GUY "I'm only on a cooking show because I'm fat and will do anything" FIERI HAWKS SOMETHING CALLED THE "DRAGON DAGGER."Dragon dagger. Dragon. Dagger. It's like one of those words that, the more you say it, the less it makes sense, until eventually you get to the point where it's just gobbledygook - only in this case you only have to say it once.By the way, this knife is for tomatoes.I

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-623593000325687002010-04-11T10:45:00.002-04:002010-04-11T11:36:02.771-04:00

Sometimes, I question people's judgment.And by "people" I don't just mean those that I know personally (though, when Gerard thinks eating a hotdog at 10:00 at night after having had a stomachache all day, I do question him because, really, hotdog = opposite of TUMS); I mean "all people, everywhere - particularly strangers and groups of strangers who don't really care what I think."Just the other

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-46025799218884156492010-02-14T10:34:00.002-05:002010-02-14T10:58:14.217-05:00

Hey! Know what's really hard? Harder than putting your pants on one leg at a time? Harder than crushing a beer can on your head? Way harder than Loving America, even when the Lib'rals are in charge?Buying stuff. That is HARD. And buying stuff for someone you know? On, like, a special day or something? Goldang that's hard!Sometimes, even when I don't have to think about other people or what they

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-27834551522518411042010-01-17T20:19:00.002-05:002010-01-21T23:07:47.847-05:00

A few days ago, I saw a commercial for this stuff: http://tinyurl.com/yj9yypmYes, it IS a paint roller for your FACE.How bad do you have to feel about yourself to get to the point where you're just like, "F it. I'm spackling the heck out of this!" ? Is this what we've come to, ladies? Just because we cannot ever, possibly, in a million bajillion years look as flawless as Miz Beyonce does in the

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-59986702501147853252009-11-26T18:40:00.005-05:002009-11-26T21:48:42.020-05:00

A friend of mine is in the middle of training for his job. It's one of those training dealies where they make you go to a particular branch of the business - always in some godforsaken place where you would never actually go if you weren't being paid to do so - and they put you in a hotel - the only one for miles in said godforsaken place - until you truly learn what it is that you are supposed

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-89397531074489126762009-11-19T10:33:00.003-05:002009-11-23T10:18:42.317-05:00

This is what I do in grad school.

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-8441219537358983742009-11-10T18:06:00.003-05:002009-11-10T19:53:57.258-05:00

It's weird how much a name can mean.When I was five or six years old, I really wanted my name to be Christina. I thought that was the prettiest, and that having such a name would equate to having a rainbow-colored glittery gown and possibly also being a mermaid. That's just what happens to people named Christina.Kids with names like Bubba and Jeb have a different path carved out for them than

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-78531834782628426862009-10-31T08:02:00.003-04:002009-10-31T09:16:00.864-04:00

I've always hated "scary" things. Haunted houses, slasher films, ghost stories - all seemed like a horrible way to waste time and lose sleep. For weeks.At sleepovers, a supposed friend would invariably suggest telling scary stories. "Wouldn't you rather talk about puppies and candy?"The other girls would laugh, and because, like most 9-year-olds, they were twisted little gremlins, they would

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-86187366125046732782009-10-13T20:01:00.006-04:002009-10-13T20:20:48.980-04:00

Keith Olbermann (seriously? two n's?) and Seth Rogen.Huh? What?Yes. Listen to their deep, throaty, crazyperson growls. I am convinced they were created in the Jim Henson Creature Shop(pe) and then, to the great dismay of the puppeteers, managed to escape. The Olbermann character, originally intended for Sesame Street, was eventually replaced by Sam Eagle (see graphic a., below). Rogen was never

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-9501614064841640332009-09-20T11:44:00.002-04:002009-09-20T12:22:37.839-04:00

But don't worry! Such a realization will not deter me from exploring the VERY IMPORTANT TOPIC that is on hand today.I have been living in New York Cit-ay for about 2 and a half glorious years now, and, after much careful observation and note-taking and rampant judging, I am ready to share with you my very deep thoughts on a disturbing trend: people reading erotica on the subway.We all know that

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-6025191720689563872009-09-02T10:05:00.003-04:002009-09-02T10:22:29.600-04:00

This morning, I was indulging in a favorite pastime of the unemployed. Can you guess what it was? Yes, I was sitting, unshowered, at my kitchen table. And yes, I may have been using the internet and drinking coffee. I was not using recreational drugs or drinking a beer or curled in the fetal position under every blanket I own, but those are all very good guesses.More importantly, I was perusing

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-27520125903019663022009-08-31T21:06:00.003-04:002009-08-31T21:25:52.022-04:00

I've thought about this a lot over the years. Some celebrities you really believe you could take on, were you forced to play The Deadliest Game: Larry King, Bob Dylan, most comedians, the Pope, etc. I think I even stand a fighting chance against a few professional athletes, like gymnasts (they're tiny!) and golfers. Venus Williams, though, is not a person with whom I would willingly engage in

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-75697341876105124512009-07-18T13:01:00.003-04:002009-07-18T19:02:46.500-04:00

Today is cleaning day. It's always interesting to see just how much filth you've been living in.We have soap scum; that's a given, and I was prepared for it. I was not prepared for soap scum IN COLORS. I watch TV. I've seen the horror movie-lite commercials starring soap scum as a ravenous world-destroyer and bane of moms everywhere, and I've seen said soap scum depicted in a variety of ways:

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-82140021931763519862009-06-14T19:06:00.003-04:002009-06-14T19:40:39.425-04:00

It's refilling its bladder right now, so I have to be quick.Just have to point out that I LOVE THIS WEB SITE: http://www.shopperschoice.com/index.html"But thelaurenbell!" you may protest, "First of all, man have the Internets missed you! But also, that's just a shitty off-price furniture Web site! There aren't even cool graphics or ridiculous slogans! WHYYYY?"Well, thanks, dear readers, and, yes,

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-75518328680976164892009-05-22T12:31:00.002-04:002009-05-22T12:52:57.993-04:00

Hey! Remember that time I had a blog? And it was so funny and witty and everyone loved it and read it every day? That was fun!But then I discovered the sordid pleasures of TV and yoga and eating dinner while sitting -- with people! -- instead of hunched over at my desk (I guess technically still sitting), and the whole enterprise went to HELL. I apologize.Now, though, I have a dog -- a furry poop

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-71144999794222535922009-04-23T15:21:00.002-04:002009-04-23T15:30:54.038-04:00

so that I'm not a total failure at April.1) Our office manager has a candy bowl on his desk. I call it that only because it is a bowl filled with candy, and not because it is a purpose-specific hand-etched crystal that Gracious Home would try to sell you for $32.50. This is important to note because if the fine founders of Gracious Home (I like to think that their last name is actually "Gracious"

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-78334201640592858082009-03-31T10:07:00.002-04:002009-03-31T10:13:07.863-04:00

Today is Haircut Day for thelaurenbell, and, in a manner befitting the always-prepared-to-the-point-of-boyscoutyness person that I am, I started looking for some ideas this morning.After Googling "short hair cuts" (to fit the boyscout theme...?) I was directed to a site with pictures and whatnot. The best thing about this site is that it offered not one, but TWO pages of short haircut ideas: "

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-34537402875439707482009-03-23T19:52:00.004-04:002009-03-23T20:04:18.612-04:00

Know what I noticed today?1) Google blogger does not automatically capitalize your "i"s.**[footnote in a non-footnote spot. don't care!]: False. I've noticed this before, but I really like complaining about Google. I assume that they spy on my every move and if I just mention something, their evil robot watchdogs will take note, eventually spurring them to stop their wackitude.2) MORE IMPORTANTLY

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-60730353280019425372009-03-14T13:44:00.002-04:002009-03-14T14:40:32.023-04:00

I was walking past our friendly neighborhood porn store the other day, when a sign in the window caught my eye.No, it was not the poster for Pirates II: Stagnetti's Revenge (a real movie -- whose title I googled for you, dear readers, to avoid the mistake of calling it Pirates II: [Some sort of pun about treasure chests], which would not have been very classy of me.).The sign -- very small and

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-29239393877554007092009-03-12T14:03:00.003-04:002009-03-12T14:14:33.551-04:00

"i don't want to change my fucking password, assholes" does not produce any results when you search Google Help!What kind of help is that?Surely someone has had the exact same problem before and has sought to correct Google's unreasonable assumption that, just because my password is what they would deem "weak" (i beg to differ! it is AWESOME, the opposite of weak!), I would want to change it.

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-55538925263709399322009-02-22T15:04:00.006-05:002009-10-15T15:43:17.047-04:00

Reader, you have no idea how happy I am about to make you. Happier than any other blog. Happier than you dreamed you could be, before you met me. The happiest...ooooo, girl...you've ever felt. Sit back, and let the smooth smooth stylings of seminal 90s pop group Color Me Badd wash over your pretty eyes and ears.Wow. Just wow, and you're welcome.In case some of you are not technical geniuses like

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-30011479098310606612009-02-06T11:11:00.003-05:002009-02-06T11:22:58.021-05:00

Starbucks coffee tastes like it was poured from a chumbucket full of ashes.I have been trying to tell people this for YEARS, and they have never listened to me. Instead, they stare at me blankly, and I have to turn around all sadfaced and misunderstood and leave them to their horrible horrible coffe.I ask myself, "Why do they not immeidately agree with me? Is it because they are not sure what '

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-76492852463552638922009-02-05T09:37:00.002-05:002009-02-05T09:51:57.398-05:00

A NYT story about the death of Domino magazine describes its readers thus:"crafty, handy young women — like Carrie Bradshaw but cooler, with fewer shoes, better values and a mortgage"So, you mean...not at all like Carrie Bradshaw. You confuse me, NYT. The only similarity I can spot is...WAITOMG, of course! They are all womennnnnn! How could I not have seen -- Carrie Bradshaw has ladybits, and so

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-59909557394576237682009-01-22T22:23:00.002-05:002009-01-24T21:52:17.016-05:00

I got this press release today:FINANCIAL TIMES ANNOUNCES APPOINTMENT OF GREG ZORTHIAN AS PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAS(And yes, it really was in that gigantic, awesomely important font. [!!!])Dear PR people,Do not scare me like that. For one, your font is shocking and uncalled for -- the sort of thing we reserve for EVERYONE IS DEAD, or CHEERIOS ARE DELICIOUS or similar, truly groundbreaking,

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-31326471562171359612009-01-12T11:41:00.002-05:002009-01-12T11:46:01.019-05:00

(Watching a preview for Milk)BF: Okay, so I know he's supposed to be gay, but is Harvey Milk also retarded?Me: Um...what?BF: I mean, is he like, autistic or something? Why does he look like that?Me: ...BF: His face! Why is it like that!?Me: Honey, I think that's just Sean Penn. That's what he looks like.BF: No. That can't be. He's acting, right?Me: No, that's just his normal face.BF: Oh.

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-1574650089051283282009-01-08T22:50:00.005-05:002009-01-08T22:55:59.206-05:00

- 3/4 cup of dry roasted mixed nuts- 1/2 gallon orange juice- month-old pancetta- 5 lb. bag sour patch kidsI think this is funny.And, until I figure out how to concoct a magical elixir from the above ingredients, that's all you get for today's funny. thelaurenbell has the plague, and the pressure upon her sinuses is actually pressing her nose back into her brain, killing the center of witty

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-67276472543029344132009-01-06T20:33:00.003-05:002009-01-06T20:57:14.149-05:00

It has been brought to my attention that Gears of War is not, in fact, a role-playing game (or "RPG" for you in the know).This, the greatest video game known to man (is that the correct terminology any more? Or should I just skip to "greatest creation ever to grace mankind's heretofore sad, empty and ultimately pointless existence?"), is known as a "third person shooter." [I researched that! For

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-17984406681849008632009-01-05T21:48:00.003-05:002009-01-05T21:56:46.211-05:00

Oh, pardon me – I didn’t see you there.What’s that? You feel like you’ve heard my voice somewhere? Why, thank you, yes, I’ve heard before that I have a very distinctive voice. Perhaps you’ve been to this bus stop before – I often carry on short, friendly conversations with my fellow passengers here, and you may have overheard. No? Hmm...well, I didn’t want to say anything, but I have done

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-63105180453967374052008-11-13T14:00:00.003-05:002008-11-14T10:53:55.178-05:00

The Web site ihateeveryone.info currently does not exist.MEANING: Now is the time to stake a claim!If anyone would like to contribute to the "thelaurenbell WILL own ihateeveryone.com Fund," please send checks, money orders, cash and various bartering items (shiny buttons, candy, etc.) my way.Success in this mission means 1) I am more ridiculous than I thought. 2) I will form a fake (or not?)

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-41325373988585862762008-11-06T16:26:00.002-05:002008-11-06T16:29:07.459-05:00

At the tender age of 6,when people would ask me my favorite singer, I would answer with this guy.Revel in his awesomeness.And then ponder why I would ever be IMDB-ing him at work.

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-42047205169678792662008-11-05T11:33:00.006-05:002008-11-05T12:11:58.281-05:00

I don't know about you guys, but I totally voted yesterday JUST FOR THE FREE STUFF. Democracy, shmecrocacy, I needed a Ben & Jerry's cone -- and I wasn't about to pay $3.75 for that nonsense.And you know what else I needed? A politically-themed masturbation aid. Good thing some online sex store was totally sharing my brain!Babeland was doling out party-neutral Silver Bullets and a John

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-45805154243159576252008-10-15T22:27:00.000-04:002008-10-15T22:28:46.982-04:00

United Airways, in their limitless good judgment and wisdom, has decided that the best possible entertainment for a 4 hour flight to Las Vegas is:1) The Hulk, starring Ed Norton2) A 2-year-old episode of The Office (Halloween, first season)3) An hour-long (possibly longer) History Channel special on hotdogs.There are so many things wrong with this.Even ignoring the flat-out bad-ness that is The

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-42211239802546340102008-10-11T20:31:00.003-04:002008-10-15T22:30:31.676-04:00

The laundromat is the heart of any good community.[sidenote: I’m trying to start posts with words other than “I.” It’s much harder than one might think.]Being the good community member that I am [as in, member of a good community, not as in being good at it], I was at the laundromat over the weekend. Don’t worry, I was not actually doing laundry because that’s for plebeians; I was merely helping

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-69172889326528557702008-09-30T22:42:00.001-04:002008-09-30T22:42:37.829-04:00

Sweeney Todd: The Unlicensed Surgeon of Fleet StreetSweeney Todd: The Overly-Gregarious Dentist of Fleet StreetBabar the Elephant King and his Lollipop SongSweeney Todd: The Scurrilous Haberdasher of Fleet StreetSweeney Todd: The Surly Pig Farmer from that Farm North of Fleet Street. No, not that one. The other one. North. Yes.That Promiscuous, Dirty Handed, Sweet and Salty Noted Fashion

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-67146152452130760912008-09-17T13:09:00.002-04:002008-09-17T13:19:10.187-04:00

I was walking past a fancy-pantsy lingerie store yesterday.Okay, none of that is true. I was walking. And then I happened to pass a lingerie store. And, by essence of it being a store for undergarments, it was actually the opposite of "fancy-pantsy."But I digress.I walked past this fancy-schmancy lingerie store yesterday, and a big sign in the window said "Fall/Winter Collection is in!" My mind

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-19662303637623315862008-09-12T18:42:00.003-04:002008-09-12T18:48:52.853-04:00

I was in the shower this morning (woo!), thinking about the exciting day ahead: the inane e-mails, the pointless phone calls, the repeated bashing of my head against my desk as I wondered what I was doing at this place.Suddenly, I realized that all was not lost. "thelaurenbell," I said to myself, "Today is not just any old painfully tedious day; it's a painfully tedious Friday!""And that means

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-24681158123108999962008-08-11T10:25:00.005-04:002008-09-17T16:34:17.179-04:00

An actual e-mail that I received at work:Lauren, 25 years ago the quintessential homemaker was June Cleaver, but today it could very well be Bobby Flay—a fact that seems obvious in today’s gender blurred generation (check out your local grocer over the weekend: over 40% of its shoppers are men buying cooking or cleaning supplies). So why aren’t household brands marketing to men? A

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-90669860755329897462008-08-08T13:53:00.006-04:002008-08-08T23:07:05.815-04:00

Jolly just got a real freelancing writer job offer. That's really great. Here is how I congratulated him (via gchat because i'm an incredible friend.):me: jolly, 1) that's awesome, congrats!2) would you call someone who had gotten their foot sliced off "depedicated?"i can't think of anyone else to ask that wouldn't get freaked outJohn: hahaum . . . i don't know if that's a real word, but that

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-33275574497495446962008-08-05T22:33:00.009-04:002008-08-08T22:57:43.523-04:00

For MONTHS I have been mentally preparing a post concerning the inferiority of Post brand cereals -- how their Raisin Bran is but a poor cardboard imitation of the delicious raisinness and brandtasticocity that is Kellogg's; how their so-called "shredded wheat" (heh, creative name guys. real clever.) wants so badly to be Frosted Mini Wheats but is certainly not; how Fruity Pebbles are just...

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-53221904751928026932008-07-22T20:28:00.005-04:002008-08-08T22:56:26.554-04:00

players: 1 man, athletic build, 20-30 years old, strongly resembling a billygoat.scene: It's the bottom of the 3rd inning. Utley, the young hero of this tale, races to catch a ground ball that speeds past him. He stumbles. His muscle-bound hulk twists to the ground, kicking up a spray of dust. UTLEY: grrrrarrrr.He has just failed epically. The ball piffles past him, allowing a base hit for the

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-3482429971775501812008-07-16T18:58:00.005-04:002008-08-08T22:55:50.769-04:00

I saw a poster up for Jurassic Fight Club, the TV show? Movie? Live (oh pleasepleaseplease) performance? about a week ago, and i have been trying to think of something funny to write about it ever since. Through much internal debate, however, I have decided that NOTHING could possibly be funnier than those three words put together.Observe:JURASSIC. FIGHT. CLUB.Are you freaking laughing your pants

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-33005789250956868882008-06-11T20:20:00.003-04:002008-08-08T22:54:32.575-04:00

My friends over at Box Box Stick (annnnnnnnd...I just got what that means when you have two girls and one guy as your cast. Neat.), just put up their first podcast. It's basically just them talking about their days, their lives, their favorite drinks, etc., but they happen to be naturally delightful and funny people (as all my friends are. except that one -- you guys know who I'm talking about...

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-31490351698740572442008-06-06T19:44:00.004-04:002008-06-08T21:10:55.820-04:00

...because they are so painfully bad:2) The Rite-Aid (Rite-aid? RITE-AID?) on the corner of 5th St. and 7th Ave.You all thought I had forgotten this thread, didn't you? You thought the heading on the first go-around was just a clever ploy for bashing the NYT, and, well, it was. BUT no matter how mind-numbingly awful the Times is; no matter how far ahead on the list it lies; no matter how much

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-78973655232355320352008-05-12T23:06:00.005-04:002008-05-12T23:33:42.875-04:00

Dude, Google AdWords is so lame. I added it to my blog thinking, hoping, praying against every sense of rationality, decency and pride that I could make a bit of extra cash off of it. I don't really know why I thought it would work -- my friends are too smart to fall for banner ads (They're also too smart to get sucked into reading whatever swill I'm jotting down here every week. Damn my awesome

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-7659313983807844122008-05-08T20:31:00.004-04:002008-05-17T11:53:29.801-04:00

I've started reading Watership Down. No, I don't particularly like rabbits, and, yes, I am over the age of eleven. I picked it up in an effort to fix a bit of a problem I've been having: I cannot stop referencing this book. For years now, every time I've seen anything featuring, or even resembling, rabbits, I have had the horrible compulsion to blurt out, "Ohmygod Ohmygod -- it's totally like

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-30365183468604186312008-04-28T22:02:00.005-04:002008-04-28T22:36:06.098-04:00

Anger is like my crack; I am horribly, painfully addicted. I love the way it feels coursing through my veins. It enervates me. It makes me cackle gleefully, and unlike other potentially life-damaging chemical addictions, it comes with absolutely no hangover. And that is why I cannot help reading the New York Times, no matter how insufferable it becomes. I am especially a fan of the Sunday Styles

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-86283024083962420202008-04-27T21:43:00.006-04:002008-04-30T17:12:49.227-04:00

There are a lot of reasons why I didn't major in history, and many of them have to do with personal preference: After living in Colonial Williamsburg for 4 years, I decided that colonists, even with their wacky butter churning parties and ale-soaked taverns, were boring. I dislike dealing with numbers of more than two digits, which makes it hard to keep track of important years. I despise the

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-65954896018458179172008-04-26T11:48:00.004-04:002008-04-26T13:55:14.676-04:00

(and posting more often): Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with the way I was raised. I can never seem to interact with crowds and strangers appropriately; even simple, human reflexes, like saying "hello" or "thank you" dry up in my throat. I often find myself whispering to people, or worse, mouthing things at them. Imagine if a giant goldfish came up to you -- a check-out girl at

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-88759051880728111572008-04-26T11:01:00.003-04:002008-04-26T13:56:08.932-04:00

Hey people. I don't know if anyone reads this blog anymore because I've been so awful about posting regularly. If you do still check occasionally, I'm sorry there has been not been a fresh supply of hilarious anecdotes and charming puns streaming forth from thelaurenbell. What can I say? One, I'm lazy. Two, cleverness cannot simply be tapped and harnessed like oil from a fresh Texan field. And,

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-83533459997121748112008-04-03T20:43:00.003-04:002008-04-26T13:58:51.978-04:00

...because they are so painfully bad.1) the New York Times:I was perusing the New York Times this afternoon (read: trying desperately to burn time at work. Why is a work day 8 hours long? Doesn't that seem excessive to anyone else?), and an article about the latest Starbucks opening -- in Jackson Heights, Queens -- caught my eye.I know it's a stupid topic. That's why I wanted to read it. You

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-39028318756596569462008-03-19T20:59:00.006-04:002008-04-26T14:00:33.206-04:00

So I may have been a little hasty in my last posting. Eliot Spitzer (who, among other character flaws, doesn't believe in the wonders of extraneous first-name consonants) may ruin a hell of a lot of things: people's faith in elected officials, his marriage, Lauren Bell's personal time with Alex Trebec, etc. etc., BUT a single man, no matter how rich or powerful or stupid cannot possibly ruin

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-72599039663059003982008-03-10T22:30:00.004-04:002008-03-10T23:00:53.024-04:00

So Eliot Spitzer, governor of New York, was busted today for taking part in a "high-class" prostitution ring. Note #1: Honey, just because they're actually women and you pay them a lot doesn't make them classy. Nice try there, though. Imagine if he had been busted for taking part in a "skanky-ass, chlamydia-ridden, reality-TV-ready prostitution ring." Someone give his press people a bonus. Note

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-6234559034329423012008-03-02T17:19:00.002-05:002008-03-10T23:03:55.191-04:00

I saw Paul Giamatti on my morning commute the other day. Or maybe it was just some guy who had the misfortune of looking just like Mr. G (only without that very handsome sheen of fame and the flattering glow of cash money lighting up his face), but that's not nearly as exciting, so I'm sticking with the famous-guy story. New Yorkers want everyone to think that they run into celebrities so often

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-811186048275728422008-02-23T12:43:00.001-05:002008-03-10T23:04:27.640-04:00

I have an official "Shit List." A friend of mine gave it to me, as a method for dealing with what she lovingly (?) refers to as my "rage disorder."The Shit List is a fill-in-the-blank sort of memo pad, its purpose etched out in massive block letters across the top. The color scheme on this little stationary gem is brown on tan. Cute, right?Aaaaanyways, the Shit List helps the confused and angry

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-53344604692059637342008-02-14T15:22:00.001-05:002008-03-10T23:04:50.634-04:00

A friend of mine -- a good, good friend who actually deigns to read this blog -- suggested today that I write something about the incestuous world of New York gossip-mongers. The bloggers, the page-sixers, the...bloggers. In fact, this lovely friend (who reads AND comments! what a guy!) went even further and suggested that I write about one professional gossiper in particular: Nick Denton of

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-40358042875392443352008-02-09T15:18:00.001-05:002008-03-10T23:06:53.552-04:00

I went to a luncheon today. For work. Yes, I do manage to hold down a job, though you'd never guess from my behavior at these things. No amount of free food is worth the pure psychological and arm-pitular torture these things put me through. They make me nervous, and, worse, they make me very aware that I cannot be trusted to interact with other people like a normal, professional adult.Everyone

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4737710357483148291.post-51374524097470871852008-02-02T14:32:00.001-05:002008-03-10T23:07:16.756-04:00

Everyone has at least one intensely crazy friend. They’re good to have around: fun for parties and, an excellent addition to your posse in sticky situations -- like when people want to kick your ass for using words like “posse.”Sometimes your crazy friend is easy to pinpoint -- that one throwing whiskey glasses at people in the bar? Yeah, that’s probably her (unless, you know, there’s one on the

thelaurenbellnoreply@blogger.com2