tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469Tue, 01 Jun 2010 19:36:26 +0000Not a memoir, not the truth but not quite a lie.http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/lane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)Blogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-8169324403582741240Tue, 11 May 2010 00:05:00 +00002010-06-01T12:36:27.032-07:00change the worldmilennialbaby boomersgenerationalgen x<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://rgcred.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/bob-dylan-harmonica.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 460px; height: 276px;" src="http://rgcred.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/bob-dylan-harmonica.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><b><div><br /></div><div>Something in the Way We Move...</div><div><br /></div> 8:08 am. May 6, 2010.</b><script type="text/javascript">var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));</script><script type="text/javascript">try {var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");pageTracker._trackPageview();} catch(err) {}</script><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Lanie: Hey. I had an aha moment. I was at this meet-up thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: What is a meet-up?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: A gathering of like minded geeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Oh. Sounds... interesting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: It wasn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Oh?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: All these "media people" claiming they were experts on the interweb... and looking at me like I wasn't part of the .com boom so I must be a fetus.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Are you speaking English?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I'm venting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Continue.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Like they know best, like they are the end all be all in communication exchange. "I's a columnist. I have a book deal." It sounded like the grown-ups from Peanuts. Waaaaaaaa-waaaaa-waaaa.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: You sound fired up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I am. Then we got onto how I went to Africa and volunteered-</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Oh Lord-</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: And I was saying how I wanted to change the world using media, and they kinda just laughed and one guy actually said, 'I just want to change my little corner of the Upper East Side."</div><div>What is wrong with these people?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Play some Bob Dylan and, have a glass of wine and read some Beat poetry.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Way to make fun of me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: I was being serious. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: How do you think we made the 60's happen?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I dunno. You guy didn't even have computers....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-8169324403582741240?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2010/05/something-in-way-we-move.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-1818519710684279738Mon, 03 May 2010 01:28:00 +00002010-05-02T19:00:57.794-07:00The HillsRegis and KellyKristin Cavallari<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://craignj.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/kristin-cavallari.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 550px; height: 780px;" src="http://craignj.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/kristin-cavallari.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><b><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>May 2nd. Sunday. 9:38 am.</b><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Reege<br /></b><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Hi- question?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Answer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: I was watching a morning show-</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Which one?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Regis and Kelly-</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I love them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Me too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I bet they would be fun friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Definitely. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Do you think Kelly is too skinny?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: No. Lanie, when I called what did I-</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: You said you had a question...</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Oh. Right. Who is this Kristin Cava-something?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Blonde?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Yes, very cute. But, I was confused why is she famous?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: She just is- she was on reality TV.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Which show.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: The Hills, on MTV.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Oh, she's one of those girls who's famous for being tan, rich and spoiled.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Exactly.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Bitstream Vera Sans Mono', 'Courier New', monospace;font-size:100%;color:#5C5C5C;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><a class="DiggThisButton DiggMedium"></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-1818519710684279738?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2010/05/may-2nd.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-2140546472765616761Tue, 06 Apr 2010 00:37:00 +00002010-04-05T17:51:23.596-07:00George Clooneyhottiessalt and pepperolder men<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.babble.com/CS/blogs/famecrawler/2009/01/george_clooney_swimming.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 321px; height: 381px;" src="http://www.babble.com/CS/blogs/famecrawler/2009/01/george_clooney_swimming.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> <br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><b><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div>A Clooney Type Thing...</b><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div> <br /></div><div>8:30 am. Sunday, April 4, 2010.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: George?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: It's Mom.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Wha- hold on. Gimme- a</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Did I wake you up?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Yeah.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Do you have company, Lanie?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Wha- no. Mom. I was asleep. Early.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: You said George.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: As in Clooney.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Oh.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: I was dreaming... we were in Italy- and there was a boat...</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Do you dream about George Clooney often?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: First time. I met a guy who reminded me of him last night...</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Very nice.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Uhhh, Mom he was gorgeous and smart and funny and Jewish and-</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Salt and pepper?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Yes! And we were talking and he was charming... and then...</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: What?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: I realized he was closer to your age than mine.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Oh.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Yeah. He was like a real grown up.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Lane, we've been over this before. You are a grown up too. </div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: A real one?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: A real one.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Does this mean this guy is a feasible option?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: He's close to my age and never been married? </div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Yeah.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: You have a better chance with George Clooney.</div><div> <br /></div><div> <br /></div><div> <br /></div><div> <br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-2140546472765616761?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2010/04/var-gajshost-https-document.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-2476337695963311205Mon, 22 Mar 2010 21:59:00 +00002010-03-22T15:27:06.386-07:00alcoholdance classWorkgrown uptap dancing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.picturesof.net/_images/A_Tap_Dancing_Turtle_Royalty_Free_Clipart_Picture_090922-124176-245009.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 75px; height: 100px;" src="http://www.picturesof.net/_images/A_Tap_Dancing_Turtle_Royalty_Free_Clipart_Picture_090922-124176-245009.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div><b>The Girl Likes to Tap Dance</b></div><div><br /></div>Monday March 22, 2010. 5:32pm.<div><br /></div><div>Lanie: When did you feel like a grown up?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: What are you talking about?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Like when did you feel like... I mean an honest to God adult.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Who says I do now?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Do you?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: I think it's when you had your first dance class and I had just tried a big case, and I left the courthouse at 2:50 was at yout school by 3:13, and you were in dance class in tights by 3:40.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I don't remember it being such a rush.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: You don't remember because I was such a great mother.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Or because I was 4.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: What's going on? You feeling like a grown up?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I dunno. Maybe. Kinda.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Is this a bad thing?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I kinda got sad today. We were talking about college at work. And I was telling all the girls how I used to run around campus in my tap shoes drunk, pretending to be a turtle. I don't do that anymore. So maybe I'm a grown up? It doesn't sound so fun.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Right of course, because acting responsible with alcohol is terribly, terribly sad.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I just miss the tap dancing part...</div><div><div><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-2476337695963311205?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2010/03/girl-likes-to-tap-dance-monday-march-22.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-503773124004124097Tue, 16 Mar 2010 01:10:00 +00002010-03-15T18:19:27.517-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://schizoamerica.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/prada-hooker-boots-1024x921.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1024px; height: 921px;" src="http://schizoamerica.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/prada-hooker-boots-1024x921.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://schizoamerica.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/prada-hooker-boots-1024x921.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 1024px; height: 921px;" src="http://schizoamerica.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/prada-hooker-boots-1024x921.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div><div> <br /></div><div>Hooker Boots</div><div> <br /></div>10:00am. Sunday March 14, 2010.<script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: I had the most mortifying experience.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Did you?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Mom, I got stuck in my boots.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: The Pretty Woman ones?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Yeah.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: I told you not to-</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Mom, it's not about the boots.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Okay.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: I got home from going out... had a few drinks, a really nice night out with my friends and I came back alone. And I didn't have anyone there to help me with my boots.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: This sounds like a Sarah Jessica Parker show thing...</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: No, it's a Lanie thing. I was hopping around my apartment sweating and cursing. And I stepped on puppy's paw. The whole thing was just horrible and pathetic. </div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: How'd you get them off?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: I didn't, they're still on.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: You slept with them on?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: What choice did I have... I gotta call a friend today. My feet feel like they're triangles now.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Oh honey, I'm so sorry. Everyone gets stuck in their boots.</div><div> <br /></div><div>Lanie: Really?</div><div> <br /></div><div>Mom: Just most of us have sense to call the doorman for help.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-503773124004124097?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2010/03/hooker-boots-1000am.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-9038700153281692635Wed, 30 Dec 2009 02:33:00 +00002009-12-29T19:38:48.985-07:00Datinghooking upsex<b>Hooking Up?</b><div><br /></div><div>5:03 pm. December 29, 2009.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Lanie.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Yes?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Is hooking-up the same as dating?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Uh, really depends on the context.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Are the terms interchangeable?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Not really.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Can you date and hook-up?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: You hook-up while dating.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Can you hook-up and date?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Uh, not likely.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: So are you hooking-up or dating?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Um-</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Wait- I don't think I want to know the answer.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-9038700153281692635?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/12/hooking-up-503-pm.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-4028942605191834348Tue, 01 Dec 2009 02:54:00 +00002009-11-30T20:05:45.421-07:00JobscootersBoysNew York City<b>All is Well</b><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">5:30pm. Monday. November 30, 2009.</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I love my new job. I love New York in the winter. I love my new haircut, and I have a dent.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: A dent?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: A crush.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Like on a boy?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Yes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: That's nice.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: All is well.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Well. Good.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Mom? What's up? Why so distracted? </div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Oh, just lots of decisions.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Lots of cases?</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Oh no. I've been done for weeks. Your father is getting me scooter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Oh, that's great. I think you'll enjoy that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Which is more judicial, red or blue?</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: I don't know. They both seem pretty patriotic.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: Fire engine red, or electric blue.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lanie: Neither sound very appealing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom: I know. You would think that the scooter company would make scooters that had a little more class. </div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-4028942605191834348?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/11/all-is-well-530pm.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-8230798404238587228Wed, 04 Nov 2009 16:01:00 +00002009-11-04T09:08:13.647-07:00artisticbillsjobs<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><span style="font-weight: bold;">Artistic</span><br /><br />9:00am. Wednesday. November 4, 2009.<br /><br />Lanie: Mom, thanks for being supportive about my writing stuff.<br /><br />Mom: Oh, well. You're welcome.<br /><br />Lanie: Not all parents let their kids be artists.<br /><br />Mom: I can't see you as a trades person Lanie.<br /><br />Lanie: Right. But you guys always told me I could do or be anything.<br /><br />Mom: Well, within limits now.<br /><br />Lanie: Oh?<br /><br />Mom: Just be able to pay your rent and eat.<br /><br />Lanie: Fair enough.<br /><br />Mom: And once the bills are paid, then you can be anything you want to be.<br /><br />Lanie: I gotta work on the bill paying part right now.<br /><br />Mom: Yes please.<br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-8230798404238587228?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/11/var-gajshost-https-document.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-2360856733142292224Tue, 03 Nov 2009 15:46:00 +00002009-11-03T08:54:32.853-07:00magazinesCowsadvertisingjob hunting<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Job Hunting</span></span><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">7:30am. Tuesday. November 3, 2009.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mom: So?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Lanie: It was a great interview.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mom: Great?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Lanie: They liked me. I liked me.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mom: Do you think you could do the job?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Lanie: Yeah, and I think I'd like it. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mom: I know you'll get it. I know you'll get it.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Lanie: Mom I'm a cow.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mom: Well do something about it.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Lanie: No. I mean. I walked into the office and there were three other girls just like me. We all had on cute dresses, pumps, straight hair and a professional looking bag. I'm sure they all need work too. And I'm sure they all have decent experience.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mom: And this makes you a cow?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Lanie: I dunno like part of an </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">indistinguishable </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">herd.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mom: Well- Moo the loudest.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-2360856733142292224?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/11/job-hunting-try-var-pagetracker-gat.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-577938181737580877Wed, 28 Oct 2009 13:05:00 +00002009-10-28T06:15:18.787-07:00HollywoodLohanLA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JYIvdEfAL9w/SuhDzcaBzEI/AAAAAAAAAHI/wiu0hA02JTw/s1600-h/lindsaylohan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 186px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JYIvdEfAL9w/SuhDzcaBzEI/AAAAAAAAAHI/wiu0hA02JTw/s200/lindsaylohan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397638704481291330" border="0" /></a><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">West Coasting</span><br /><br />8:32 am. Wednesday. October 28, 2009.<br /><br />Lanie: I booked a trip to LA.<br /><br />Mom: As in Los Angeles?<br /><br />Lanie: Yeah.<br /><br />Mom: Oh.<br /><br />Lanie: Mom, stop crying. Really STOP.<br /><br />Mom: Oh, God.<br /><br />Lanie: Mom I'm not moving out there, just want to explore a few options see if I could ever- you have got to stop crying. I know it's far away, but Jesus this is just a trip for two days.<br /><br />Mom: I think I can handle the distance... but the thought of you running around with that Hollywood crowd. Doing God knows what.<br /><br />Lanie: Hollywood crowd. Mom, I don't know anyone in that crowd.<br /><br />Mom: I'm sure that's what Lindsay told Dina the first time she went west. People don't OD at The Viper Room on Long Island.<br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-577938181737580877?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/10/var-gajshost-https-document_28.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-8596745945625602867Thu, 15 Oct 2009 21:12:00 +00002009-10-15T14:32:15.553-07:00Game ShowsmomBirthday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://rhapsodyinbooks.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/birthday-cake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 470px;" src="http://rhapsodyinbooks.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/birthday-cake.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gameshow Contestant<br /><br /></span>9:00am. Thursday. October 15, 2009<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>Lanie: Guess what? So, I've been thinking of ways to make money besides focus groups... And I've been up since 6:30am. It just hit me! And I've been applying for game shows. Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Umm... Wheel of Fortune.... Amazing Race, I need a partner though-<br /><br />Mom: Aren't you forgetting something?<br /><br />Lanie: Mom, I think I could get on at least one of them.<br /><br />Mom: Lanie-<br /><br />Lanie: This isn't a crazy idea. I know people in casting... maybe they can put me at the top of the pile... and I've got a good story.<br /><br />Mom: It's my birthday.<br /><br />Lanie: Oh my God, Mom! I'm so sorry. Happy Birthday. I so knew it was your birthday... I just got distracted- oh my God, happy birthday. Happy 57th Birthday!<br /><br />Mom: I'm 54.<br /><br />Lanie: Happy Birthday!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-8596745945625602867?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/10/var-gajshost-https-document.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-4713464786554297800Mon, 05 Oct 2009 02:20:00 +00002009-10-06T13:41:14.091-07:00DatingjudgesLove<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Things She Says to Important People</span> <br /> <br />9:00am. Sunday. October 4, 2009 <br /> <br />Mom: So how was the date? <br /> <br />Lanie: Very good. <br /> <br />Mom: And? <br /> <br />Lanie: And he's smart and sexy, and we talked and it was nice. <br /> <br />Mom: How'd it end? <br /> <br />Lanie: A walk home and a nice kiss. <br /> <br />Mom: You kiss on the first date? <br /> <br />Lanie: Why not? <br /> <br />Mom: I can't believe you kiss on the first date. <br /> <br />Lanie: Mom, is dad in the car with you? I don't want dad to know about my kissing. <br /> <br />Mom: Your father is not in the car. <br /> <br />Lanie: Well, I don't discuss kissing with my brother either. <br /> <br />Mom: Matty isn't here. <br /> <br />Lanie: Who's driving you then? <br /> <br />Mom: Just another Judge. <br /> <br />Lanie: Anyone else in the car? <br /> <br />Mom: Well, a few of us Judges are going to brunch. <br /> <br />Lanie: So, the entire Court of Appeals knows about my love life. <br /> <br />Mom: Yes. <br /> <br />Lanie: Mom- <br /> <br />Mom: We just took a vote. Majority says you shouldn't kiss on the first date. With one dissent saying it's okay as long as the kiss was less than 30 seconds. <br /> <br />Lanie: I'm appealing to a higher court. <br /> <br />Mom: They won't grant you cert. <br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Things She Says to Important People</span><br /><br />9:00am. Sunday. October 4, 2009<br /><br />Mom: So how was the date?<br /><br />Lanie: Very good.<br /><br />Mom: And?<br /><br />Lanie: And he's smart and sexy, and we talked and it was nice.<br /><br />Mom: How'd it end?<br /><br />Lanie: A walk home and a nice kiss.<br /><br />Mom: You kiss on the first date?<br /><br />Lanie: Why not...<br /><br />Mom: I can't believe you kiss on the first date-<br /><br />Lanie: Mom, is dad in the car with you? I don't want dad to know about my kissing-<br /><br />Mom: Your father is not in the car.<br /><br />Lanie: Well, I don't discuss kissing with my brother either.<br /><br />Mom: Matty isn't here.<br /><br />Lanie: Who's driving you then?<br /><br />Mom: Just another Judge.<br /><br />Lanie: Anyone else in the car?<br /><br />Mom: Well, a few of us Judges are going to brunch.<br /><br />Lanie: So, the entire Court of Appeals knows about my love life.<br /><br />Mom: Yes.<br /><br />Lanie: Mom-<br /><br />Mom: We just took a vote. Majority says you shouldn't kiss on the first date. With one decent saying it's okay as long as the kiss was less than 30 seconds.<br /><br />Lanie: I'm appealing to a higher court.<br /><br />Mom: They won't grant you cert.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-4713464786554297800?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/10/things-she-says-to-important-people.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-219290047518935508Thu, 24 Sep 2009 13:19:00 +00002009-09-24T06:40:29.629-07:00speed datingtwilight zonewoody allenlarry david<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><span style="font-weight: bold;">Unreal Dating<br /><br /></span>8:20 am. Thursday. September 24, 2009<br /><br />Lanie: So I went on a date last night. <br /><br />Mom: Wonderful.<br /><br />Lanie: Not so much. <br /><br />Mom: Not so much?<br /><br />Lanie: Imagine if Woody Allen and Larry David had a love child.<br /><br />Mom: That could be sexy.<br /><br />Lanie: If Woody Allen and Larry David weren't famous they wouldn't be sexy at all.<br /><br />Mom: Okay, so this guy was a dork. Big deal.<br /><br />Lanie: Mom, we went for coffee. He complained about the price of the coffee.<br /><br />Mom: Was it expensive?<br /><br />Lanie: Mom! He then complained about everything.<br /><br />Mom: Like what?<br /><br />Lanie: I mean everything. The weather, the jazz trio playing in the park, how he thought playwrights were suppose to know more about movies, how his parents didn't invite him on their Hawaiian vacation, and finally to top if off he complained about his cousin the dry cleaner.<br /><br />Mom: What?<br /><br />Lanie: It felt like the twilight zone.<br /><br />Mom: I'm sorry. How'd it end?<br /><br />Lanie: I saw a one armed man playing ping pong near and said "Wow. That's cool. Shoot I've got to go walk my dog."<br /><br />Mom: How long were you with him?<br /><br />Lanie: 23 minutes.<br /><br />Mom: So it was a speed date.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-219290047518935508?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/09/var-gajshost-https-document_24.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-2463935110993067682Tue, 22 Sep 2009 15:57:00 +00002009-09-22T09:06:47.600-07:00Starbucksgeneration gapunemployed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blog1.ebates.com/ebates/starbucks-logo-thumb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 326px; height: 321px;" src="http://blog1.ebates.com/ebates/starbucks-logo-thumb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">Starbucks for the Unemployed<br /><br /></span>11:30am. Tuesday. September 22, 2009.<br /><br />Mom: What you doing?<br /><br />Lanie: At Starbucks.<br /><br />Mom: Can you afford that now?<br /><br />Lanie: I don't drink the coffee I use the internet.<br /><br />Mom: Don't you have internet at the apartment?<br /><br />Lanie: Yes.<br /><br />Mom: So why would-<br /><br />Lanie: It's easier to work here.<br /><br />Mom: It's easier to work in a crowded chain coffee shop with Baristas yelling than your own home?<br /><br />Lanie: Yes.<br /><br />Mom: I think this is another generation gap.<br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-2463935110993067682?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/09/var-gajshost-https-document_22.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-4684738689640653356Thu, 10 Sep 2009 16:34:00 +00002009-09-10T09:39:33.145-07:00Jobunemployedweight gain<script type="text/javascript">Ge<br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><span style="font-weight: bold;">Getting Laid<br /><br /></span>12:45pm. Wednesday. September 9, 2009.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>Lanie: I got laid off.<br /><br />Mom: Oh. I'm so sorry hunny.<br /><br />Lanie: Me too.<br /><br />Mom: Well you just find yourself another job as quick as you can.<br /><br />Lanie: That's the idea..<br /><br />Mom: Do it before you can the unemployed fifteen.<br /><br />Lanie: What?<br /><br />Mom: You calculate that you gain 15lbs per two months you are unemployed<br /><br />Lanie: Yet another thing to look forward to...<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><br /></span><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-4684738689640653356?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/09/ge-var-gajshost-https-document.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-6211964688632032262Fri, 04 Sep 2009 20:19:00 +00002009-09-04T13:25:29.969-07:00BrooklynBoobsSurfingbathing suits<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script>Boobs and The Beach<br /><br />10:45 am. Friday. September 4, 2009.<br /><br />Lanie: I'm going surfing tomorrow.<br /><br />Mom: Where?<br /><br />Lanie: Brooklyn.<br /><br />Mom: They have ocean in Brooklyn? I would have never known.<br /><br />Lanie: Yes. Mom, I gotta wear a bathing suit in public.<br /><br />Mom: So?<br /><br />Lanie: Well it makes me uncomfortable. <br /><br />Mom: I know how you feel dear. Every woman feels that way during the summer.<br /><br />Lanie: You think?<br /><br />Mom: I know. Just accentuate your positive assets.<br /><br />Lanie: I don't know how to do that.<br /><br />Mom: Cleavage Lanie. Cleavage.<br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-6211964688632032262?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/09/var-gajshost-https-document.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-7111283063432868256Mon, 31 Aug 2009 19:56:00 +00002009-08-31T13:11:40.843-07:00volunteerstutorsscoresStandardized testingKaplan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto/Articles/2034836/sat%20prep_Full.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 420px;" src="http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto/Articles/2034836/sat%20prep_Full.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">SAT Score, What?</span><br /><br />3:03 pm. Monday. August 31, 2009.<br /><br />Lanie: So... I'm teaching this SAT course.. it's like a volunteer thing-<br /><br />Mom: Oy.<br /><br />Lanie: My thoughts exactly.<br /><br />Mom: Do they know what you made on your SAT?<br /><br />Lanie: No, but they said that didn't matter.<br /><br />Mom: Those poor children.<br /><br />Lanie: Mom, it'll be great because I can relate to them.<br /><br />Mom: If I recall correctly you had a few SAT tutors.<br /><br />Lanie: They made my score go up.<br /><br />Mom: The only reason why your score went up is because I called Kaplan and told them to send over the best looking tutor they had.<br /><br />Lanie: So better looking tutors get better results?<br /><br />Mom: How do you think I got you to concentrate on geometry for three hours at a time.<br /><br />Lanie: I still can't find the Y-intercept... he must not have been that good looking.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-7111283063432868256?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/var-gajshost-https-document_31.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-2426208595604573458Fri, 28 Aug 2009 20:26:00 +00002009-08-28T13:29:22.983-07:00yom kippurJudaismamendretractions<script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><span style="font-weight: bold;">Amended... or Maybe a Retraction</span><br /><br />10:00 am. Friday. August 28, 2009.<br /><br />Mom: I would like to amend my previous statement about Judaism-<br /><br />Lanie: Okay.<br /><br />Mom: In Judaism, we do confess our sin- just once a year on Yom Kippur, the al het. We carry the guilt for the rest of the year. Please post.<br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-2426208595604573458?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/var-gajshost-https-document_28.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-1881037353166682940Wed, 26 Aug 2009 13:06:00 +00002009-08-26T06:11:49.375-07:00Jewish Guiltnunspriestsconfession<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy4z0ulpRK4/R6QfVY6cvMI/AAAAAAAAAts/NUzQyEywTUs/s400/nuns.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 342px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vy4z0ulpRK4/R6QfVY6cvMI/AAAAAAAAAts/NUzQyEywTUs/s400/nuns.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">Oh, Mother Mary</span><br /><br />9:00am. Wednesday. August 26, 2009.<br /><br />Lanie: So... every morning I see nuns on my way to work.<br /><br />Mom: Not everyone in New York is Jewish.<br /><br />Lanie: -And I feel compelled to tell them things.<br /><br />Mom: What?<br /><br />Lanie: Like a confession.<br /><br />Mom: That's only priests.<br /><br />Lanie: I know. But how come in Judaism we don't have someone we can confess our sins too for absolution?<br /><br />Mom: Because then there would be no Jewish guilt.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-1881037353166682940?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/var-gajshost-https-document_26.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-8729895040864419975Thu, 20 Aug 2009 19:12:00 +00002009-08-20T19:11:33.158-07:00losing thingslock kids in a carphonesATT<span style="font-weight: bold;">Losing My Head</span> <br /> <br />9:03 am. Thursday. August 20, 2009. <br /> <br />Lanie: Everything's fine. But. I lost my wallet and phone in a cab. I got the wallet back and am in the process of getting the phone back. <br /> <br />Mom: Okay. <br /> <br />Lanie: Where is the yelling? <br /> <br />Mom: You know how you have dreams? I have dreams too. But in my dreams I see you leaving your head in a taxi cab, and your body running off down 2nd Avenue headless bumping into things. <br /> <br />Lanie: That's kinda twisted. <br /> <br />Mom: Lane, I only pray that when you have children it only takes you one time to remember not to lock your children in the car. <br /> <br />Lanie: How many times did you lock me in the car? <br /> <br />Mom: At least seven. <br /> <br />Lanie: Rad. I've only lost five phones. I'm better than you at not losing things. I win! <br /> <br />Mom: No, AT&amp;T wins. <br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">Losing My Head</span><br /><br />9:03 am. Thursday. August 20, 2009.<br /><br />Lanie: Everything's fine. But. I lost my wallet and phone in a cab. I got the wallet back and am in the process of getting the phone back.<br /><br />Mom: Okay.<br /><br />Lanie: Where is the yelling?<br /><br />Mom: You know how you have dreams? I have dreams too. But in my dreams I see you leaving your head in a taxi cab, and your body running off down 2nd Avenue headless bumping into things.<br /><br />Lanie: That's kinda twisted.<br /><br />Mom: Lane, I only pray that when you have children it only takes you one time to remember not to lock your children in the car.<br /><br />Lanie: How many times did you lock me in the car?<br /><br />Mom: At least seven.<br /><br />Lanie: Rad. I've only lost five phones. I'm better than you at not losing things. I win!<br /><br />Mom: No, AT&amp;T wins.<br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-8729895040864419975?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/losing-my-head-903-am.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-943907967281710677Mon, 17 Aug 2009 12:22:00 +00002009-08-20T07:55:40.640-07:00Straight Boys<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.premiere.com/var/ezflow_site/storage/images/galleries/MyBestFriendsWedding1997HereComesthe/45949-1-eng-US/MyBestFriendsWedding1997HereComesthe_imagelarge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 430px;" src="http://www.premiere.com/var/ezflow_site/storage/images/galleries/MyBestFriendsWedding1997HereComesthe/45949-1-eng-US/MyBestFriendsWedding1997HereComesthe_imagelarge.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><span style="font-weight: bold;">About A Boy</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />2:32 pm. Monday. August 17, 2009.</span><br /><br />Lanie: I like a boy.<br /><br />Mom: Good.<br /><br />Lanie: And he doesn't like me.<br /><br />Mom: Oh. Are you sure?<br /><br />Lanie: Sure. He made it pretty clear.<br /><br />Mom: Well that... Um... that. Everyone should like you.<br /><br />Lanie: I know, right?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-943907967281710677?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/var-gajshost-https-document_17.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-1545936850913448250Wed, 12 Aug 2009 15:26:00 +00002009-08-12T08:40:00.807-07:00advertisingDrunkFrench Fries<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.huffingtonpost.com/gen/46136/thumbs/s-DRUNK-DIAL-large.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 190px;" src="http://images.huffingtonpost.com/gen/46136/thumbs/s-DRUNK-DIAL-large.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Dwunk Dialing</span><br /><br />10:00 pm. Tuesday. August 12, 2009.</span><br /><br />Mom: Gotcha. I've been calling you since 5:30... where have you been?<br /><br />Lanie: I dwas 'rinking wit wanna myy bosses.<br /><br />Mom: What?<br /><br />Lanie: Happy Hour. I'm in dadvertising. Iss what wee doo.<br /><br />Mom: Lanie, you are not part of the cast of Mad Men.<br /><br />Lanie: Dar doo sure?<br /><br />Mom: Lanie, I can not understand you when you are drunk. And I also find that drinking so much that you slur your words utterly embarrassing and shameful.<br /><br />Lanie: MOM! I'm not willy dat drunk.<br /><br />Mom: What is going on then?<br /><br />Lanie: I hads a nice buss onn and I durnt my tongke on a fench fi.<br /><br />Mom: You were eating french fries? Still shameful.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-1545936850913448250?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/var-gajshost-https-document_12.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-816822866619168021Fri, 07 Aug 2009 15:34:00 +00002009-08-10T18:31:18.036-07:00dreamspretentiousmetaphor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.treehugger.com/kudzu.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 468px; height: 351px;" src="http://www.treehugger.com/kudzu.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">8:45 am. Monday. August 10, 2009. <br /> <br /></span>Lanie: I had this insane dream last night. <br /> <br />Mom: What was it? <br /> <br />Lanie: I can't remember it exactly, but my chest opened up and there were dying vines inside. <br /> <br />Mom: What kind of vines? <br /> <br />Lanie: I dunno... dying ones. <br /> <br />Mom: I don't think I can have this conversation with you. <br /> <br />Lanie: Why? <br /> <br />Mom: Because most people have normal dreams. Falling, teeth, snakes. You. You dream exclusively in intellectual metaphor. <br /> <br />Lanie: Does that mean I'm smart? <br /> <br />Mom: No, just pretentious. <br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">11:24 am. Friday. August 7, 2009.</span><br /><br />Mom: Did you get laid off?<br /><br />Lanie: No.<br /><br />Mom: Thank God.<br /><br />Lanie: This guy came into work today with an "Emotional Support" dog.<br /><br />Mom: What?<br /><br />Lanie: I think it's just a way you can bring your dog on planes for free.<br /><br />Mom: <br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-816822866619168021?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/845-am.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-7740493909420391584Fri, 07 Aug 2009 02:53:00 +00002009-08-06T20:01:58.077-07:00MenschWeekendJimmy Carter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://transition2008.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/jimmy_carter_wikipedia.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 406px; height: 599px;" src="http://transition2008.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/jimmy_carter_wikipedia.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Thursday. August 6, 2009.</span> <br /> <br />Lanie: I never got to ask you what you did this weekend. <br /> <br />Mom: Oh. I was with President Carter. <br /> <br />Lanie: As in Jimmy Carter. <br /> <br />Mom: And Roslyn. She's still a looker. <br /> <br />Lanie: And you were with him because? <br /> <br />Mom: Oh, I don't know... But he is such a Mensch. <br /> <br />Lanie: He won a Noble Peace Prize. <br /> <br />Mom: You know he has a grandson. <br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">5:45pm. Thursday. August 6, 2009.<br /><br /></span>Lanie: I never got to ask you what you did this weekend.<br /><br />Mom: Oh. I was with President Carter.<br /><br />Lanie: As in Jimmy Carter.<br /><br />Mom: And Roslyn. She's still a looker.<br /><br />Lanie: And you were with him because?<br /><br />Mom: Oh, I don't know... But he is such a Mensch.<br /><br />Lanie: He won a Noble Peace Prize.<br /><br />Mom: You know he has a grandson.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></span><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-7740493909420391584?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/thursday.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2798866612623414469.post-1143379423237598089Wed, 05 Aug 2009 18:41:00 +00002009-08-05T11:48:45.941-07:00OBGYNGyno<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/97/272372366_33bdd1743d.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 333px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/97/272372366_33bdd1743d.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");<br />document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));<br /></script><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">12:35 pm. Wednesday August 5, 2009.</span><br /><br />Lanie: I have an appointment with the lady doctor this afternoon.<br /><br />Mom: Are you pregnant?<br /><br />Lanie: NO-<br /><br />Mom: A <em>venereal disease</em>? I can handle a baby not a VD.<br /><br />Lanie: It's STD now, Mom. But no. Just a check-up.<br /><br />Mom: Why would you scare me like that-<br /><br />Lanie: I was just telling you because I don't think I'll be able to answer my phone after work when you call me, as I'll be on the examination table.<br /><br />Mom: You can talk to me at the lady doctor... they don't look at your mouth.<br /><br />Lanie: And Goodbye.<br /><br /><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br />try {<br />var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-8738794-1");<br />pageTracker._trackPageview();<br />} catch(err) {}</script><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2798866612623414469-1143379423237598089?l=www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com' alt='' /></div>http://www.thethingsshesaysaloud.com/2009/08/var-gajshost-https-document.htmllane.bernes@gmail.com (Lanie B.)0