My Sincere/Passive-Agressive/Blatantly Sarcastic List of Thank You's.

Today I realized that I may never get to thank all of the famous people that have inspired me.  And also the ones that I would like to passive-aggressively slap in the face. So I'm going to thank them vicariously through this post. Here it goes.

Audrey Hepburn, thank you for being perfect. 

Next up, Miley.  Miley. Miley, Miley, Miley. I would like to personally thank you for proving that once you go Disney, you can indeed go back-- even if you broke some achey-breaky-hearts in the end, and demolished the chances of young girls ever respecting themselves, and stole Pink's hair cut, and made us all feel awkward watching the VMA's, and I know this is a run-on sentence but I can't stop (that was not supposed to be a pun).  Anyway, you go girl!  

This one goes out to Chris Brown.  Thank you for having such great anger management skills. So you slip up and punch someone in the face every other night.. big deal. 

This is a big one: lets take this time to express our gratitude to Mr. Ryan Seacrest. Thanks Ryan, for bringing us the Kardashians, whom help us little folk realize how fortunate we are to have normal speaking voices, sexual integrity, and zero plastic surgery debt.  Also, they're majorly entertaining, and a great outlet for my sisters boredom. We gotta give snaps to Ryan (if you don't get this 'Clueless' reference, stop what you're doing and go educate yourself. I know you have netflix).

Emma Watson, thank you for giving men unrealistic expectations for females, and giving women unrealistic hair expectations. 

Ryan. Gosling. Thank you Ryan Gosling, for being Ryan Gosling. 

To the writers of Full House, I'd like to thank you all for letting us know that its okay for our weird single uncle who plays with puppets to come and live with us.  

And finally, Tina Fey. Thank you for being hilarious, and giving me hope for my future. And also for writing Mean Girls… 

xo

laurie

Old Lady Sports.

The following article could be considered offensive to your gradmother, and for that I apologize.

If you know myself or my family at all, you know that the closest we come to athletic is Wii tennis (disclaimer: this is NOT an insult to you die hard “Wii tennis athletes” out there. Please continue to rock the cyber court). Anyway, my life pretty much consisted of dodging gym class and praying that no one would try to throw me a football.  After not having played ANY sports in high school I was itching at the chance to continue to not play sports in college. Yes, you have read that correctly. In my attempts to remain as non-athletic as possible and clutch on to my dignity as hard as I can, I realized something: the majority of the simple joys in my life are astonishingly similar to those of an elderly women (which makes for a great reason for boys not to date me). I like to call these activities “Old Lady Sports”.

You’re probably all wondering what activites are involved in Old Lady Sports.  Well, I can tell you this much-- it’s definitely not football, and definitelly not soccer, and most definitelly not lava ball (I just made that up, but it sounds fun). Old Lady Sports are exercises of the mind. 

I first realized I was an Old Lady Athlete when I found myself excited to see an info-mercial and the time I almost purchased an “as seen on TV” product. I  cannot tell a lie, I came pretty close that day.  The next sign that I was morphing into a Golden Girl was when I learned to knit-- which may or may not have happened three days ago. Lets just say, Im excited to finish this article so that I can start again... We’ll leave it at that.  I also have an obsession with hot tea, which is basically cat-nip for old ladies (I dont know what you’re picturing right now, but it scares me and I’m sorry).  Lastly, I knew I was a pre-mature Gramz when I was far too interested in the BINGO Night Flyer in Chick-Fil-A.  

I will forever own my label as an Old Lady Athlete, I will continue to exercise my mind with knitting and prey on TV bargains.  For these things I am not ashamed.  

xo
laurie

My Sixth Grade Google Horror Story.

So, as many of you know, on the eighth day (after He created unicorns and Nutella) God created the most wonderful tool man has ever possessed. Google. 

Google is the number one source for all of the worlds most pressing questions. 

-a brief example of some of the worlds most pressing questions:

"What is twerking?"
"What does it mean when you're scared of Chinese people?"
"Why is my goldfish turning black?"
"How to raise your IQ by eating gifted children."
and finally, (my personal favorite)
"What's a good Amish dating website?"

Obviously, Google has the answers for everything. Which is why I didn't hesitate for a second when I was presented with this situation in the sixth grade: 

As I sat tall in Mrs. McMeanLady’s Science class (names have been changed for privacy reasons), I overheard a conversation between the three popular gals-- lets just call them "the Amanda’s" to save time.  Now, the Amanda’s sole purpose in life had three parts. One, scrunched hair. Two, Myspace. Three, to make Laurie Seifert's life a living hell.  So, naturally, I was put at a table with all three of these girls according to Mrs. McMeanLady’s seating chart.  One day as I tried and tried again to wrap my mind around the Water Cycle, in my full Old Navy overall get-up and Corey Matthews curls, I overheard the Amanda’s conversation.  This conversation however, was unlike any I had heard before.  It wasn’t the usual dialogue concerning a broken choker necklace or Danny Michaelson’s new pair of Nikes. No. This one was different. They were talking about Mrs. McMeanLady, and they used a word I had never heard before. Cellulite. 

Cellulite. I said it over and over again in my head trying to figure out what it could be.  After pondering for a while and coming up with nothing, I made the brave decision to write it down on the inside corner of my polar bear folder.  After all, I couldn’t write it on my hand, It could’ve been the equivalent of the 'F' word for all I knew.  

The last bell rang and I grabbed my backpack and headed out to my Moms mini-van as fast as I could. It had been hours since I heard this word and with each second it grew more and more mysterious.  As my Mom unlocked the front door to my house I ran in, threw my backpack on the ground, got in trouble, picked my backpack back up and took it to my room, THEN headed straight for the computer.  I was going to ask the ultimate source, Google.  I wasn’t exactly sure how to spell it so I went with something along the lines of “sellyulight”.  I knew it didn’t matter because I had faith that Google would know exactly what I meant-- and it did.  “Did you mean “What is Cellulite?”.  Why yes, Google, I did!  The great news is, Google is a genius. The bad news is that given the choice, I chose the Google Image search. 

You could imagine my surprise when the first pictures started to load and my mind was spinning with visions of old lady butts that looked like cottage cheese.  I immidiately shut off the computer screen and covered my eyes (like that was gonna get rid of the visual burned into my brain). I knew that if either of my parents saw me looking at butts they would definitely take away my Sega Dreamcast, and that was just unacceptable.  There was only one thing I could do, go up to my room, blast Spice World and try to forget. 

The next day in science class, I asked Mrs. McMeanLady if she could move my seat because the Amanda’s were distracing me.  She said no. (thats how she earned the name Mrs. McMeanLady) And from that day forward I tried and tried to tune out the conversations going on at my table full of Amanda’s. I got pretty good at it actually, and at the end of the year one of them even wrote in my yearbook “H.A.G.S. Church Gurl”... Well, it could’ve been worse. 

Moral of the story: 
tell your kids about searching things on Google--and warn them about sellyulight. 

xo
laurie

Three reasons I know unicorns are real.

The real question we all should be asking (disregarding the origins of life and how ramen noodles can be both cheap AND delicious) is whether or not unicorns are real.  The great news is that I’m here to tell you that they are.  Here are three bullet proof theories to prove that our magical friends are really out there:

ONE! They’re in the Bible.

Unicorns. Yes, Unicorns. I repeat, you are not hallucinating. My friends, they’re in the Bible. Not only does the good book mention my mystical spirit animal once– but they’re in there SEVEN times. (and seven is a lucky number, so im just gonna go ahead and assume that means good things for this theory– ya dig?) Need the proof? Read’em and weep, or jump up and down with pure joy, thats what I’ll be doing. 

 Numbers 23:22 (KJV)

“God brought them out of Egypt; he hath as it were the strength of an unicorn.”

Deuteronomy 33:17 (KJV)

“His glory is like the firstling of his bullock, and his horns are like the horns of unicorns…”

Job 39: 9 (KJV)

Will the unicorn be willing to serve thee, or abide by thy crib?

Psalm 29:6 (KJV)

He maketh them also to skip like a calf; Lebanon and Sirion like a young unicorn.

Psalm 22:21 (KJV)

Save me from the lion’s mouth: for thou hast heard me from the horns of the unicorns.

Psalm 92:10 (KJV)

But my horn shalt thou exalt like the horn of an unicorn: I shall be anointed with fresh oil.

Isaiah 34:7 (KJV)

And the unicorns shall come down with them, and the bullocks with the bulls; and their land shall be soaked with blood, and their dust made fat with fatness.

Count’em, seven. I’m not making this stuff up!

TWO! They’re historical.

They are in SO many ancient legends and have shown up in writings and all kinds’a old stuff in a bunch of different cultures. I mean c’mon, you’re telling me that there are ancient discoveries in Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Greek, German, and Scottish cultures that all have Unicorns as a common denomenator and we still can’t admit that they’re real. 

All of your dreams are coming true.. I know. But I have one more point to make. 

THREE! Who the..?

My final statement is this: Who in their right mind would come up with the idea of a beautiful-majestic-magical-sparkling-white horse with a rainbow horn (and maybe wings.. wishful thinking.)? This insane picture could not have been created on purely human thought. Lets be honest, no human could dream up something as spectacular as a unicorn. No way. 

I dare you to deny their existence now. Ha! 

xo
laurie