Good Riddance 2006

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Lori Same Slacks

I wear the same pants everyday.

Oh come on, don't look at me with such disgust. I febreze the crotch every morning, I swear.

But, how long before somebody notices and everybody starts calling me Lori Same Slacks?

Not long people, not long.

I have some other pants, but I don't like them.

And, I'd like to have more slacks, but I hate shopping for them. It sucks. They never fit and they force me to confront my actual size.

Yes, yes, I'm just like that godforsaken Cathy comic, but unlike Cathy, I am not a total bitch to the saleslady and I have way better hair.

Cathy, take a break from looking for swimsuits and being rude to the help and get your hair done already! Ack!

Where can short-but-bootylicious women go to find slacks anyway? Will somebody please tell me?

If somebody could also give me the strength to find some new slacks, I'd appreciate that too.

Is That The Magic Of The Season You've Got There?

Or are you just happy to see me?

Lormo's Holiday Traditions for You and Yours

Share the Magic of the Season

1. Write letter to Santa asking for drugs.
2. Offer Santa sex for drugs.
3. Get mad when Santa wants to collect sex for drugs.
4. Tell strangers on the internet you want to share the magic of the season with them.
   
5. Say something inappropriate (share the magic of the season) at Thanksgiving Dinner, fight about it one week later.
6. Sleep with a stranger (share the magic of the season) on Thanksgiving/Xmas/New Year's Eve.
   
7. Go missing for days at a time on a bender. Tell everyone you were wrapping gifts.
   
8. Send one Xmas card to somebody out of spite.
   
9. Listen to the only good Xmas song "Last Christmas" by Wham over and over and over.
10. Get drunk and email ex-boyfriends/girlfriends and tell them what you really think of them, I mean share the magic of the season with them.
    

Let's Make Out

So last night, I made out with somebody a little bit because he told me he likes my blog.

If you tell me you like my blog, I will probably make out with you. At least a little. I mean, if you want.

Really. That's all it takes to get a little Mocha action.

If you tell me that you like my blog and that you think I'm brilliant, I will probably sleep with you.

Really. It's that easy.

I mean I'm that easy. And vain. And yes I think this song is about me.

I AM QUEEN GOOGLE

I can really google is all I'm saying.

Santa Threatens You

Lori Mocha Loves You

I love you, my sweet babies.

I want to express my love for you during this magical holiday season because that's what it's about right?

Yes, the holidays are all about giving love out on the internet.

Wow. Now I have another tradition.

Look for my list of Lormo Brand Holiday Traditions coming to an internet near you soon.

Happy holidays everybody. No really I mean it. Come on. I'm trying here.

I want to share the holiday spirit with my sweet babies.

I wish I could make love to each and everyone of you.

Molested By Santa

Dear Santa,

Ok listen, um, I know I asked you to stop by, but I didn't say that you could touch me while I was sleeping and, I did not appreciate those reindeer games you wanted to play last night.

The homemade crystal meth you brought was sub par, to say the least, and one of your elves ODed in my bathroom. I shoved his body under the sink and I'd appreciate it if you could pick him up ASAP.

This is not what I had in mind at all. You are sick. Get some help. Seriously.

Sincerely,
Lori

I'm In Blog With Him

I have a crush of epic proportions on a super cute blogger.

Yes, I know that having a crush on a blog makes me a dork of epic proportions.

But he is so super cute, and um, oh yeah, and he is a really good writer.

He shoulda been one of People magazine's choices for sexiest men alive if you ask me.

But nobody ever asks me.

So, I've decided to take my warm and friendly feelings and turn it creepy, by stalking him. (By "stalk" I mean google).

And, I'm also using his blog profile photo as my screensaver. (I would post it here, but I don't have his permission, and so that seems too creepy somehow. I guess I don't want to be like Charles Manson creepy here, just Lindsay Lohan creepy. You know, hot creepy).

Turning something creepy is how I'm gonna celebrate the holidays from now on.

Don't you judge me for my traditions.

You drink your damn eggnog and I'll google my new internet blog boyfriend.

Merry Xmas to me.

ALL I WANT FOR XMAS IS DRUGS

Dear Santa,

All I want for xmas is drugs.

Seriously.

I haven't been good at all. But I can make it up to you when you visit. Wink wink.

Just bring the drugs you fat bastard.

Seriously.

Sincerely,
Lori

Sad Sack Bullshit

I'm troubled because I am a horrible person. I wish I could just accept it, but I can't.

I don't want to be a horrible person. But trying to be a good person is way more difficult than just being a horrible one and I hate things that are difficult.

Anyway, I mean, being a horrible person is what a cold, hardened bitch is, right, and and I swear to god I wish I was a cold, hardened bitch. But I'm just not there yet.

I feel horrible.

I feel horrible because I drink too much and I'm bad at sending thank you cards and I am a belligerent loudmouth and I don't know when to shut up and I send pathetic emails in the middle of the night and I can't grow up and I'm self-absorbed and I only extremely reluctantly accept any responsibility ever and sometimes I don't wanna listen and I hate being serious and I don't know what to get my sister for xmas and sometimes I just don't think and I've wasted my whole life.

Yup. I'm the worst.

The best solution I can think of is to lock myself in my bedroom and never leave and collect garbage and let the junkmail pile up to the ceiling and live in my own filth, which is what I did this weekend.

And I'm up at five in the morning, writing on my damn blog.

My life is a mess.

Sorry I'm A Champion

Last night I thought I'd just skip my stop on the F and go to Coney Island instead at 3 in the morning.

Then I came home and sent some humiliating, desperate, lonely emails and text messages.

Then I listened to Jay-Z.

I know how to have fun.

Or I am mentally ill.

Or both.

Crying on the F Train

I think it's important for everybody to have a drunken, nervous breakdown on the subway as often as necessary.

Don't keep those feelings bottled up, share them! With strangers. On the subway.

You don't have to suffer alone. It's called being part of a community, people.

I know that it makes the guys sitting by you feel real uncomfortable. Don't worry though, they won't try to console you because they don't care. But don't let that stop you from sharing your feelings.

To enhance the experience, you should scrawl I AM ALL ALONE over and over again into a notebook. Or carve it into your arm, if you're so inclined. (I prefer a notebook).

You can do other stuff to heighten the experience too. Like stare out the window mournfully while overlooking the crapass part of Brooklyn you live in. Or dig through your purse in a futile attempt to find a tissue to dry your tears.

Then, when you get home, make some kinda desperate, humiliating text message to some guy you don't even like, and then feel bad when he doesn't respond the way you want.

Then regret that text message for the rest of your life.

Then pass out in your clothes.

Then do it all again next week. Or this weekend even.

Lori's Cable Guidelines (Or I Want To Bang A Flock of Tinkerbells)

Somebody asked me what I watch on my brand new cable.

My answer? Everything - within my guidelines, which I'll get to later.

Have you folks heard of this amazing invention the cable? There are like over 500 channels to choose from. THAT'S ALOTTA CHANNELS, MY SWEET BABIES.

So, cable sounds super fantastic doesn't it? Sounds like a wonderous world of wonder and um, more wonder. (Sorry, all the cable has already begun to erode my vocabulary).

But seriously, cable, to me, sounds like a magical fairyland of joy. And I'm talking the sexy hot Tinkerbell kinda fairy, not the Richard Simmons kind. Unless you're into Richard Simmons. If you are into Richard Simmons type fairies, then I invite you to go right ahead and imagine that.

But I'd rather bang the little cartoon type. Maybe I'd need to bang like 20 of them at once for it to really work, I don't know. I haven't worked out all the details yet.

I want to make sweet love to alotta hers.

Um, can I get back to you on how I'd gang bang a bunch of Tinkerbells? Because that isn't my point here. My point here is that I LOVE CABLE TELEVISION.

But I still really want to bang a gang of Tinkerbells, even though I am not a lesbian. I just wish I was a lesbian and I think that banging, um, wait, is "gang" the right term for a bunch o' Tinkerbells? Swarm of Tinkerbells? A herd of? Um, I think that banging a gaggle of Tinkerbells might swing me the gay way. A flock bang if you will.*

But, ok um, my point here, REALLY, is that I got cable and it has changed my life for the better.

But LOOK OUT my sweet babies, because cable isn't EXACTLY the wonderous world of magic that it appears to be at first glance. Sadly, there are actually only one or two channels at any given time worth watching. And sometimes you might have trouble knowing what in the sam hill you could possibly watch, when all you see on is crapola.

That's where I come in. Let ME tell you what to watch. Even when it seems there's apparently nothing on worth seeing, that's where you're wrong. There is always something on. You just have to know a few rules:

Cast of Law & Order SVU (That's Mariska, front and center).

Cable Guideline #1: Law & Order.
They're always on. If you're gonna fully enjoy the cable, you're gonna have to learn to like Law & Order. I resisted at first, because they seemed too, oh I don't know, too crimey. But thing is, crime always makes for good TV. That's just the way it is.

I prefer Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (SVU). It's about rapists and pedophiles, so what's not to like? I watched 6 of them this past weekend. Plus, I really want to bang Mariska Hargitay. I swear I'm not a lesbian.

A damn good really bad movie.

Cable Guideline #2: Develop an appreciation for bad movies.
Like the kind on Lifetime. Think of it as abusive mind candy. Or violent junk food. Or something. Either way, learn to like it.

Unfortunately, nothing was on this past weekend with my favorite Queen of Lifetime actress, Merdith Baxter-Birney.

So, instead, this weekend I watched "The Pick-Up Artist" starring Robert Downey Jr. and Molly Ringwald on WE. (Lifetime, WE, same diff). Downey was this, duh, pick-up artist who picked up the sassy and aloof Molly Ringwald. Of course, because she's so sassy and aloof, Downey falls in love with her and wants to help her out of some financial problem with the mob. And then I fell asleep. But, I enjoyed it up until then. Really.

I like looking at the early 90's Downey. I like feeling like a fortune teller predicting all the bad times to come for him. Playing fortune teller to future celebrity misfortune is fun!

Cable Guideline #3: It is ok to fall asleep during a cable TV movie.
Actually, it is encouraged. You're supposed to. I mean, really, cable is the opiate of the masses and I love opiates. Yes, Karl Marx was right. Opiates are a helluva good time. That's what he said, right?

Cable Guideline #4: Stay behind in your viewing so you can enjoy whatever quality drama from years ago on pay cable that everybody is already over but is now currently being pushed on basic cable.
If you stay behind in your viewing, then you can watch what everybody else already saw a long time ago. But if you wait, it will be brand new to you! Right now it's Six Feet Under. They're playing a lot of them lately and they're not bad, so you may as well watch a few. Not my favorite, but not too shabby. Sadly, there's nobody I want to bang on there. But, at least there's a lot of death and some gays and swears (although bleeped) and drinking and drugging. You can't have a good show without substance abuse. Actually, I think that's a new rule.

Ice Cold Mocha abusing an ice cold substance.

Cable Guideline #5: You can't have a good show without substance abuse. This brings me to another show you can watch. Intervention. It's on A&E at 10pm on Sundays. And some other times too. It's always about some crazy fucked up drug user and then a "surprise" intervention. I watched one about rich alcoholic lady. BORing. Alcoholics are boring. Been there done that. She actually shouted to the sky "WHERE ARE MY BABIES"? SUCH a drama queen (a former actress, of course). Nobody does shit like that unless there's a camera involved. She was so psyched to be filmed. She LOVED getting bombed on camera. But you can see a lady getting bombed in any bar, on any night in any city. BORing.

But then I watched one about a heroin prostitute. Now that's some good viewing. That heroin must be some REALLY good stuff because this chick would blow scumbags with mullets for a hit. (Not that there's anything wrong with scumbags with mullets).

Britney wearing granny panties and talking physics.

Cable Guideline #6: Develop an interest in and appreciation for celebrity gossip.
To truly enjoy cable, you must be interested in Kramer's racial epithets and whether or not Britney Spear's wears panties. You don't have to subscribe to US Weekly (even though you should) but you must be aware of this bullshit because it is the fuel that keeps cable running. And, you're gonna see a lot of it, so why not embrace it?

Well folks, that's already quite enough of my jibber-jabbering about cable television.

I think I've given you plenty of guidelines to make sure there's always something for you to watch.

I have more to say on this topic, but I guess I'll just have to keep the rules coming as the cable spirit moves me. Or until the Tinkerbells take me away from all this. Whichever comes first.

* Didn't I say something awhile back here about wanting to write something that I wouldn't be ashamed to have my mother read? I guess that will have to be a long-term goal because I am so ashamed by what I've written here.

I Need To Know

Somebody tell me what the point of real human interaction is, because I am over it.

I got the cable.

I just got cable television and it's like I've been transported into a brand new world of magic and intrigue.

My year without cable was a living hell. An experiment that failed miserably. Like living like a filthy animal in the streets.

If somebody tells you that they don't watch TV, you should feel sorry for them. They are not living a more fruitful and productive life. They are living a sad and empty life. I know because that was me just last week.

Now that I have the cable, I may never leave the house again because what's the point of that?