American Idol and the Audrey Laurens

I was in the Chicago Tribune!

(http://www.chicagotribune.com/topic/wgnam-idol-auditions-062209,0,2235136.story)

As a last minute decision this past weekend, I went with my friend Stephen to Chicago to try outt for American Idol... because why not?It was so awesome, I made SO many new friends! I didn't make it through, but it was well worth the trip.

We got in around 11pm, had to get up at 3:30 to be in line around 5am just for registration Saturday morning. Doors opened around 8 and by 9 we were back outside with all of Chicago at our fingertips. Oh! And I met another Audrey Lauren who was also from Ohio! She lives up around the Akron/Canton area. I met her because I was saying something about my mom, and then I quoted her talking to me going "uuugghh.... AUDREY..." and she was like "WAIT, your name's Audrey? MY NAME'S AUDREY! Ok wait, what's your middle name?" and I said "Lauren..." and she was like, "GET OUT! I'm Audrey Lauren too!"

At first I thought she was messing with me, because it's so rare to find an Audrey under 50 and over 10, let alone an Audrey LAUREN, so I got proof; we took a picture of both of us holding up our birth certificates. You can't see what they say in the pic, but you get the gist.

Anyway, we're bff's now because I mean, how often do you stand in line with thousands upon thousands of people and end up standing right next to your name twin? It's fate. Then it was funny because she was talking to other people like, "Who else is an Audrey Lauren. You are? No WAY! Are you? UNCANNY!" So we made a bunch of other friends and we all call each other Audrey Lauren (only two of us were authentic, we didn't make the rest of them feel adopted, even though they were). Most of them lived in Chicago, and we met up with them later in the weekend. There was Cliff Audrey Lauren, Cathy Audrey Lauren, Barb Audrey Lauren, and Ariel Audrey Lauren In person we're all Audrey Lauren, I'm just going here by how they're all saved in my phone, to cut down on the confussion.

Man, now I know what it feels like to be named Ashley or Jennifer or something else a lot of people are named.

I saw the Sears Tower, we went up as far as we could (which was ONLY the 103rd floor, but whatever), met Audrey Lauren up there (the other one with a birth certificate stating Audrey Lauren, the other Audrey Laurens couldn't make it), took Stephens pic of an Obama cutout wearing my shades, ate at an amazing pizza place called Giordanos sang at our table, took the local Amtrack out and back from the city and sang for people who saw our green Am Idol wristbands, caught a festival in Oaklawn where we were staying, went to Wrigly Field on the Red Line train, made friends on the train, I bought a Cubs hat, we walked around and took pics outside, listened to the game for a while going on inside, Walked all over Chicago from the Chicago Theatre down Michigan Ave, did some shopping, saw the old haunted water tower from the great fire, got free butterfingers from people in the park doing promotions, stayed away from the free hugs people (because I don't like hugging people I don't know, especially if those people are modern day hippies holding signs that read free hugs. I don't know what your game is, hippies, but I actually don't know anyone who PAYS for hugs, so your standing there offering a service that anyone can get is basically about as much a waste of time as if you were standing there holding a "WALK BY ME FOR FREE, EYE CONTACT OPTIONAL" sign. At least then you'd have more takers), came across a giant statue that was a replica of the famous painting of the farmer and his wife, finally got to Millenium Park, walked around there, went to Navy Pier and saw Athenian dancers doing a show, then walked to the beach and fell onto the sand like travelers who had finally discovered land.

Audrey Lauren met us there with her friend Lindsey, and then we all walked to the Hard Rock Cafe and ran into a few other Idol hopefuls. Oh and gave a lot of money to various bums through spare change. OMG this is funny; on our way back to the car, we got double teamed by hobos! Hobos are BOLD too, man. The first one approached us real friendly and talking fast like a car salesman who's rent is due. I was wearing sandals, but Stephen had on white gym shoes and he started talking to him about his shoes, and the next thing we knew, he was on the ground and had Stephen's foot up on his knee, and pulled this bottle of white stuff out of nowhere and splattered it on Stephen's shoe. He was telling us all about this amazing stuff that'll clean any shoes and water and stuff will slide right off, while he rubbed it into the shoe with his bare hands. While he was doing his sales technique and cleaning Stephen's shoes, so we couldn't go anywhere, ANOTHER one walked up to us noticing that we both had boxes of leftovers from the Hard Rock. He goes, " 'scuse me, is that leftover food? I'm aaawefully hungry..." reminded me of my dog, Cricket, begging at the table. And like I do with Cricket, I gave him the food. I figured, well, I've got plenty of food at home in the fridge and this guy probably doesn't even have a fridge so he can have the rest of this giant burger, even though it was oh so delicious. He thanked me, and THEN he looked at Stephen, standing literally inches from me, and says the EXACT same thing right down to the inflection and emphasis on sylyables. Stephen looked at him, and you could tell he really didn't want to but he didn't want to say no... and finally he just goes, "This... this is my breakfast, so..." and the guy was like, "Allright, I understand..." and kinda walked on with a guilt trippy voice.

Then the guy shining the shoes was like Allright, that'll be $8 for the shoe shine and tips are appreciated. Then he started telling us about his kids and grandkids and all that... and I gave him a 10 because frankly, I was impressed at his finagling skills. He told us to tell our friends about him, and he called himself Dr. Love, so if you go to Chicago, please ask about him and let him know I sent you.

Anyway, the the next morning was the actual audition and we had to get up around 2:30ish and glam up to go wait in line and all that. We found out where Audrey Lauren was and stood in line with her, and we met some new friends who had guitars and amazing voices. We sang all morning and Eden, the guy with the guitar in the pic from the Tribune, knew how to play pretty much anything anybody called out. People from other parts of the line were shouting out requests, and others from our line were joining in. We all exchanged numbers and my ringtone for my Idol people now is one of the songs that we did that I recorded on my phone, which was Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade (if you don't know it, find it on youtube and listen to it, you'll fall in love with it too). Chas was the guy singing on my phone and omg, he sounds just like them. That was the crazy part about it, I made friends with 20+ people in line between day one and two, all with AMAZING voices, and as far as I'm aware, only one made it through to the actual auditions (but if anybody asks, that peson may or may not have made it, because they're not supposed to talk about it... assuming they made it through to anything worth talking about... which they could have or could have not... supposedly).

By the way, I should have probably started with this, but these were not the "audition" auditions, these were the auditions to qualify for the auditions, which are actually in August.

Afterwards, Stephen and I met up with the Audrey Laurens from day 1, all except for the other Audrey Lauren, she was pretty pissed not to make it through so she went back to her hotel. We found a place called the Billygoat Tavern or something to that effect, and we ate there. It was decent... but we passed a Taco Bell to get there, and I did find myself questioning that decision just a little when we first walked through the door. Ariel Audrey Lauren and I have a standing appointment to go somewhere way awesome and get ice cream, somewhere where we don't have to walk 1.4 miles according to Cathy Audrey Lauren's phone-gps.

Read this and I'll buy you a cookie

Congratulations! Now I owe you a cookie! Not just any cookie, either, one of those way awesome, gooey on the inside, crispy on the outside, walk by it in the mall and it smells oh, so delicious MALL cookies.

You know what I'm talking about. You're just walking down the mall hall, minding your own business. Maybe you're shopping, maybe just browsing. Maybe you're doing the look-at-your-phone-and-avoid-eye contact with the kiosk worker who wants to talk to you about your skin care/cell phone/hair crimper-curler-straightener/fingernails/chinese massage options. If you're anything like me, you're shopping AND avoiding eye contact, because you ALREADY PURCHASED the nail shiner and hand cream kit, with a second one for free for $75.

Sure, you thought you'd give that second one away. Then you left it sitting out and your dog decided that that picture of the dead sea on the cover looked more enticing than a pile of sausage and bacon, so he tore into it and you came home to a pile of box. Next to a pile of something else, left as a reminder that you need to come home sooner and let him out.

But ok, so you're walking, you're walking, you're walking, you're- Oh MY! What is that magnificent aroma? I feel weak in the knees... Oh, I know what it is... they just pulled a batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven at the cookie place. Fresh chocolate chip cookies.

Did you know that there's an extra fee if you use your credit card on a purchase there less than $5? What the heck?

You could buy TWO cookies, but all you wanted was the one cookie.

You could pay the fee, but then you're paying extra money for a non-service.

Now you have it, my real motivation for writing this blog.I want a cookie too.And I'd rather buy an extra cookie for you rather than a lame fee that those cookie people can get rich off of. OH NO YOU DON'T, cookie people. I want cookies for my money. Not fees, cookies.

So the next time you and I are in the mall, and we pass the cookie place, you have to remind me, "Hey Audrey, do you remember that you said if I read your goofy blog about nothing, you told me you'd buy me a cookie?"

And I'll look right at you, right into your eyes and I'll say, "Indeed I did. Let us go and have our cookies." Or something like that, I don't know what I'll say exactly, but I'll agree.

And we will go to the cookie place, you and I!

And we will get their freshest cookies. And if there are some in the oven that are almost finished, we will wait for them.

We will get our cookies, and they will be delicious.

Or maybe they will suck because the cookie place is having an off day, then, and only then, will we double back to an Auntie Anne's pretzel.

As a famous blue monster (known for his love of the delicious round pastery) once said, "C is for cookie, and that's good enough for me."

Small Victories

This week, I zipped up my skinny jeans.

I know that there are some people out there (and by some people, I mean some guys) who don't understand the massive feeling of achievement that comes with being able to say that sentence.

I'll try to convey the excitement to you, here's my story.I am 5 feet, 10 inches tall and I'm no stranger to carbohydrates. In high school I was really never very active. I loved activities that involved eating, watching tv or movies, and going out with friends (usually to a place where we would be eating or watching tv and movies). My senior year of high school, I topped off at my heaviest in a size 20, and around 220 lbs. On top of that, I went to Anderson High School. Anderson, unless something has changed in the last 5 years, is a school for pretty people. I look back sometimes and wonder if there was some sort of behind the scenes screening process that happened that I was unaware of, because I remember being surrounded by pretty people. Skinny, pretty people.

Not everyone, but those of us who were not skinny pretty people were severely outnumbered, ok?

Anyway, eventually I decided that enough was enough. With the help of my mom and grandma, and Weight Watchers, I started dieting and excersizing and little by little, the weight came off. I was healthier and happier. I overcame depression, got a boyfriend, wore cuter clothes, joined up with stuff at school, I graduated a size 12, and my senior year was the best year of my life up to that point.

The following year I was in a 10 and vacationed on the beach, got a tan, started at UC, got in tight with a close and supportive group of friends from work, spent a lot of time at the lake, and that was the best year of my life up to that point.

The following year I maintained my size, moved to a better paying location at the same job, found myself single and STILL fabulous, kept those close friends, started a business, gained independence by moving out on my own, and dealt with the trials that come with that independence. I went through some hard circumstances that year, but I came out stronger and wiser, and with a renewed faith in Jesus and that was the best year of my life up to that point.

Then a couple of years passed, and I did the one thing that is absolutely murder to productivity. I got comfortable.

I fell into a routine and let a lot of things slip, health being one of those things. over the next couple of years I sloooooowly eased into larger clothes. It was like, "Mmmm, these are a little tight, they must have shrunk in the closet! Stupid closet." I mean, look at where I came from in high school! I still look GOOD! Womens sizes are so hard to read, plus EVERYONE is making everything so much SMALLER these days. Just get the higher size, it's not like other people can read your size tag when you're wearing them anyway. Also, come on, I'm 5'10" I'm not supposed to be TOO small...I made excuses all the way to the mall where I bought my pants in a size 11 again.

Then a 12.

Then a 13.

Then last year, I bought a pair of jeans in a 14, and it hit me. I'm going the wrong way! It hit me like a mack truck when my bff started loosing weight with her personal trainer... while I was gaining the weight with MY personal trainer (Maybe you've heard of him, the Colonel? Mr McDonald? Also sometimes goes by Mr Skyline or uses the female alias, Wendy?).

I was living in the glory of an acomplishment I had once achieved. I had worked hard for something, and I wanted to continue basking in the glory of, "Hey check out how awesome I am!" without doing the work required to maintain it.How many of us do that?So there I was in my size 14s sitting around inside my home, staring at the pictures on the wall (those of you who have ever been to my home, yes I am reffering to the giant picture wall), and crying to my dog.

Yes, crying.

Yes, to the dog.

No, it didn't help.

Because I was still inside, sitting. Hating my body, hating myself for what I'd done to it. Bitterly thinking about every hamburger, fried chicken, cake, cheese coney, loaded potato meal I'd had over the last couple of years. About every sunny day that I'd had a bad attitude and decided, "screw it, I'm gonna catch up on sleep today."

Trust me you guys, hating yourself is in NO WAY a motivator for changing anything. Hate in any form and in any forum will cripple you and will cripple whatever you are trying to accomplish. I hope I haven't lost anybody with a long story about something that doesn't pertain to them, because that is an important thing to know. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE learn that if you didn't know it already!!!!

The healing, growing and changing happened when I decided to get over myself. So I was a size 14, so what? Feeling bad about it wasn't going to make things better, it was only going to make things worse (Can you say, comfort eating? I know I can). I decided to accept it, go buy some clothes that fit me, and get out and do something. I knew that I had done it before, so I can do it again. I know of people who have lose a couple hundred pounds, so for me to get back into my skinny jeans by doing the same thing that they did, eating healthy and being active, it was totally achievable.Looking back now over the last few months, I don't even feel like I've been working very hard, actually. I've been eating a lot of the RIGHT foods instead of a little of the wrong foods, I do fun stuff like the treadmill in the movie room at the gym, riding bikes with my boyfriend (who himself is incredibly active, so that is such a big help!), roller blading with my bff when the weather's nice, etc. Oh, also, throughout the day I drink a few water bottles-worth of water, and I've talken to walking the long way to the bathroom upstairs and back down instead of going to the one down the hall. It's little, but it's better than nothing, ok? I'll admit, sometimes in the beginning it was hard to get motivated. Sometimes I still wanted to catch up on sleep instead of go to the gym. Sometimes I still feel that way. I'm going to the gym after church tonight and by the time it's time to go, I'm probably not going to want to. But I'm going. I AM going. I am going to go.

That extra couple of "I'm going"s were not for you. I know you get it, I was just telling myself.

Ok, I'm good now, moving on. So having read all of that, you know where I'm coming from, and I'm going to give you another chance to get excited with me. Remember back when I was a size 10 and I vacationed and got tan and all that part of the story I was telling you about? Ok, THOSE are the jeans I'm talking about. One of the times I was upset (or moving, I don't remember), I got rid of all my other size 10 stuff. I don't know why, that was stupid. It's like I was telling myself, "Well, it was fun while it lasted, but you're never gonna do that again, these are just taking up space." But I kept those jeans. Those jeans went to the beach with me. Those jeans were once an accomplishment of mine. Those jeans wouldn't come past my thighs this time last year...

This week, I zipped up my skinny jeans.

A little tight, but they felt GOOD. They felt like victory. There is a saying, "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels." When that pizza is set down in front of you, and it's got your favorite toppings, and it smells divine, and it's got the melted cheese glistening with pure taste, and you can just smell it's heavenly aroma awakening your senses, you do not believe that saying. You think, "I don't know if it'll tase AS good, but it's gonna taste pretty darn good, I know it!"

But when I zipped up those jeans, I didn't want pizza. I would have fed that whole pizza to the dog. He deserves it, he's put up with a lot of my moodiness, as I mentioned before.

What are you in pursuit of? What are your skinny jeans? It's a small victory, it's not necessarily something life altering. Size 10 isn't even my goal, but it's an important mile marker along the way to me getting back to a healthy weight and size for my height. A healthy single digit weight and size. But the small victories add up. In war, the winner is the side that wins again and again through a series of battles.Maybe you've never had a problem with weight in your life. Maybe there is absolutely nothing wrong with your self image, kudos to you! But If you are alive, you have something that you are looking to overcome. Financially, spiritually, personally, physically, there has got to be SOMETHING that you are currently overcoming. If not, you better check your pulse.

Don't get comfortable, take it from someone who has been there. You think it feels good being in your comfort zone but you're mistaken. It feels so much better to be in the pursuit of something! It feels so much better to achieve something!

Keep on keeping on, people. Whatever you're going through, if someone else has done it, you can do it. If no one has ever done it, you are MEANT to do it, so that other people in your position now can look to you and say, "Well, hey, they did it. I can too!" Whatever "it" is. Taste that victory! Zip up those jeans! I believe in you, I hope you do too.

Instant Celeb Status

I have a friend who recently had a baby. Actually, I have several friends who have recently had babies, but I have one very good and special friend who took the time to send me pictures of said baby. The rest of them just keep their babies to themselves. While I can all but guarentee I'm not going to obsess over your baby like you will (mostly because it's YOU'RE baby, not MY baby), I thrive on being included in the freakin joy, just like anybody else, okay? Hint hint, people...

Anyway, so my friend sent me a slideshow of her beautiful new baby girl, and it got me to thinking. I was just sent an album with 71 pictures of the same person, with whom I am not personally aquainted. Let me say it again, 71 pictures of the same person. Here's one with her eyes open, one with her eyes closed, various photos in cute little outfits, here's so-and-so who's fallen asleep with her, here's her sleeping with so-and-so, posing with her arms up, posing with her drink, and lots of pictures with other people. By the time I got to the end of the pictures, I came to a very profound conclusion. Being a baby is just like being Paris Hilton.

Think about it. No, for real, think about it! Immediately loved or hated (depending on whether or not the people in the room include siblings, cousins, or eccentric older relatives who used to claim the spotlight), entering the room of some gathering, she has the attention of everyone in that room. That baby has done nothing to earn the public's interest. It can't sing, it certainly can't act; for goodness sakes, it can't even go to the bathroom on it's own. But you love it, and you give it your attention. You have to, because if you don't she'll whine and cry, and possibly do something drastic in order to bring the spotlight back to herself.

Lost as to whether I'm talking about the Hilton or the baby? So am I.

I guess when you think about it, we've all had that Paris Hilton status. We've all been in that situation with all eyes on us. She's just kept it going for longer. How did she do that? Well, lets look at what we know of the similarities between a baby and Paris Hilton:

Baby / Paris Hilton

running around naked: loves it / loves it

talking in a small voice: can't help it / chooses not to help it

limited vocabulary: goo goo / that's hot.

sleeping: a lot / around

constant companion: stuffed animal / live animal

always drinking: a bottle / yes... but not a bottle.

If reclaiming the spotlight in your own life is something you're after, I guess you could look at this as some quick tips to be able to do that. These are just a few off the top of my head. Size is an important thing to being baby/Hilton-like, too. So remember to wear anything you can to make your head look smaller in comparrison.

(Note to my friends who have yet to send me baby pics: I'm done talking about babies, it's out of my system. You may now send me those pics without fear of blogs comparing them to lewd hardcore partying celebrities.)

So how are things?

At the risk of writing about the same subject as a lot of people in January, a new year is fresh upon us. I never actually set any "New Years Resolutions," but there are some things I wanted to improve upon (doesn't everybody?) and now is as good a time as any. Not quite a full week into 2009, I thought I'd see how I'm measuring up so far on the standards I set for myself about a week ago...

I decided that 2009 is the year I'm gonna be on time to work every day. And since making that decision, I've only been late 2 times... Unfortunately I just started back to work yesterday.

I've actually been going to the gym LESS, because I can't stand those people who show up and crowd the machines for the first few weeks of January working on their resolutions. I'll be more of a regular in February, when those same people will be less frequently spotted at places containing words like "Raquetball," "Fitness," or "Active," and more frequently spotted at places with names ending in "Buffet" or "Corral."

I decided I was going to make some changes in my life, so I groomed my dog myself, who now looks like he has a rat's tail, painted my kitchen, cabinet doors are STILL on my livingroom floor, and broke up with my boyfriend for two hours. Currently wishing I had done none of these things, as all turned out to be pointless.

This summer, I am going skydiving. I think everyone should plan to do one wild and crazy thing a year. All the other wild and crazy things you do through the year, however, should be totally spontaneous.

Everyone in the world should go see the movie Fireproof. Everyone. And bring your friends.
I'm reading the Bible in 90 days. 13 chapters a day for 90 days. Totally doable, and it's like having a "How To" guide for life, so... Pretty important.

You may find yourself wondering in the upcoming months, especially the warmer ones, "Why strive for any more? Life's pretty good. Gas prices are down, I wake up every morning and see the sun rise over the beach horizon... because that's what I set my google page to at work, have my cup of coffee-"

no, scratch that. Coffee is so 2008...

"have my cup of green tea loaded with enough honey to put a small horse into diabetic shock (because that is the way people will drink it in 09. And by people, I mean me), work your job routine in your sleep, partly because you know it so well, and partly because you've stopped drinking coffee, then drive home in decent traffic to your kitchen cabinets on the floor and your rat tailed dog." Maybe have some more tea. Maybe a gallon of ice cream. Maybe even find a tea flavored ice cream, you know there's one out there somewhere. Maybe just say screw it, and take a nap that ends tomorrow morning when you wake up late for work again thinking, "Ok, tomorrow, I'm DEFINITELY gonna be on time!" You may think you have enough. You're finally there; you've finally made it to where you want to be.

Well my friend, do you know what comes of that? December of 2009 rolls around, as it inevitably will, and you're making resolutions for 2010 that sound incredibly familiar.

People should make July resolutions. Everything you're anticipating 2009 to be starts to get pretty foggy right around then, doesn't it? That's about the time you're sitting at the Golden Corral, plate number 4, thinking "Why did I get that gym membership? I have to pay for it every month and I haven't been since February."

Not YOU, but I'm just saying, you know people right? Moving on...

That's why people don't remember to do what they set out to do. A year is a really really really long time, you know? And lets face it, we are procrastinators by nature. I heard someone once make a New Years resolution not to procrastinate, it was the most absurd thing I'd ever heard of, because YOU KNOW you don't start thinking about your resolutions until about the November/December time frame. Then it's like, "Oh yeeaaaah, I WAS gonna run that marathon. I'd train now but it's SO cold... and there's not one going on, so... NEXT year is my year, though."

January resolutions are a sham. You want to change your life? Figure out what you want and write it down.

Then make copies.

Then post it everywhere you look, refridgerator, door, bathroom mirror, bedroom ceiling, car windshield, write it backwards on your forehead, just keep it in fromt of you. Then make more resolutions in July. I think I'll write a blog about it, when July comes around. I don't need to write it down, though, I'll remember.

What if you're happy and you DON'T know it?

Everyone knows about the If You're Happy And You Know It song. Everyone over the age of 5 anyway. Everyone under the age of 5 should have parents who watch them rather than tuning them into a myspace for a babysitter. For the 5 and under crowd, I know you're out there. I've seen your myspaces. You dress like street walkers and put your age as 99, because you don't want the pedafiles to know you are under 18. Guess what? They don't care. Myspace is a dangerous babysitter, kids. A dangerous babysitter. I feel sorry for the 5 year olds of today, you know? Why are they surfing the computer at their age, anyway? Why can't their parents just plop them in front of the wholesome, child-friendly television, like our parents did? Nothing can go wrong there.

Where was I? Oh, ok. So like I was saying, for the kindergaten and over crowd, you guys know the song to turn to when you're happy and you know it. Sometimes you are instructed to clap your hands; sometimes to stomp your feet, or shout, "Hurray!" On occassion, the really happy people are instructed to do all three. Those stomping, clapping, shouting people are truely grounded, and need no assistance from me. Bravo for being secure enough with yourselves for being able to look like that in public.

Those of you who fit into that category, maybe you can help me with those poor unfortunate few who are not so blessed. I am, of course, reffering to the people who are happy, but don't know it.
How could we have been so callous as to go all these years and not have addressed their sorry situation? According to the insanely accurate research website, wikipedia, the hauntingly beautiful lyrics of If You're Happy and You Know It are presumed to have been written by Alfred B. Smith, born 1916, died 2001. Somewhere in that time frame, my guess would be around the middle, those who are aware of their happiness rejoiced in song, while the rest of the people (or "la gente," as they say in Spanish) were left by the wayside. Tragically. Like a perfectly good quarter pounder with only one bite taken out of it, sitting in the gutter. Maybe it's sitting on a piece of foil or something, but still... it's in the gutter. Best leave that quarter pounder for the wandering hobo.

How are we going to help these poor lost souls, you may ask? Maybe you're saying to yourself this very moment, "Audrey, I am outraged that it has taken so long for this problem to surface. What can we do to make it right for those who are happy, but don't know it? Volunteer somewhere? Start a college fund? Maybe write them a song?" Those are all good ideas, but also stupid. Actually, more stupid than good, but I'm glad you are participating.

Where are you going to volunteer? Where do people who are happy and don't know it hang out? If we knew that, we'd be ahead of the game. We don't know it. You might think the mall, but you'd be wrong again. Trust me, I worked at the mall, you are either happy or sad at the mall, and you definately know it. Know how you know it? Whether or not you are employed there. I don't care how much a mall employee smiles at you, they are doing it because they have to. They will be happier when you leave and they can go back to slacking off. Again, trust me, I know from experience.

A college fund and a new song are a waste of time, because those things already exist. If these people need money to go to college, tell them to get a job. I hear the mall is hiring. I don't know about you, but I don't want to sacrifice my happiness just to show somebody theirs.

That is what we need to do you guys, SHOW those people who are happy and don't know it... that they are, in fact, happy. Make them know it! Insist that they be aware of their happiness!

Hold them down with joy if you have to. Joy and force.

They may say to you, "Please stop! I'm happy already, I'm happy!"

Make sure you test them, though. Make them do the song. It may seem a little extreem, but you don't want to have wasted your time and energy on someone who pretended to know that they were happy just so that they could be left alone. This is no time for hiding, you guys. These are bold times for bold people, and if you are not a bold person, you'd better man up or you might find yourself on the business end of a happiness check.

Who I am, and why I like cake.

Ladies and gentlemen of myspace, I would like to extend to all of you a deep and heartfelt, "Sup." No, really, I mean that.

I'm trying to be more down with you guys today. Trying to be more chillaaaxed. Could it be because I want you to feel safe around me? Because I want to reel you in right in time for the gift giving season? Because I want you to realize that somewhere within this blog is a subtle plug thet my birthday is a week and a half away (November 7th, since you asked) and then talk about the celebration in detail? It's entirely possible, because I accept gifts that are both from the heart and cheap and last minute. Makes no difference to me, and the shinier the better.

All I'm saying is, late September/early October, all of the stores start breaking out the Christmas stuff. Hello, retail stores! You're gonna bury summer so quickly??? It's still warm! At least give us a chance to mourn it's passing...

Anyway, they completely forego Halloween, Thanksgiving, and in between and most importantly, my birthday. It's just not right, you know? It is a time for the anticipation of people giving stuff to me, and I have to be reminded to give to others??

I may be coming off a little selfish right now, allow me to start over.

Sup, myspacers.

I've just been thinking about things. Birthday related things. I know I'm a busy person, and I have a lot of friends in different groups who don't actually even know wach other. The simple fact of the matter is, if I ever need to get away from you, I know people you don't know that I know. I'm just saying.

So I've decided to throw a surprise birthday for myself. That way, you don't have to. Isn't that nice? Think about it. I know all of my contacts, they're MY contacts! How can the Sears people be expected to get ahold of the highschool friends? Or the relatives get ahold of the church friends? Or the LTD friends, or the UC friends, for that matter? I don't want ANY of these people left out of the celebration of my 24th year, it's a pretty big deal, after all. A mile marker.

Not for anything in particular, but you only turn 24 once you know! It's not like turning 29.
Anyway, you're ALL INVITED!!! It's gonna be the biggest bash, it's gonna be SO awesome.
Now, I know what you're probably thinking. "Ya, Audrey, I completely agree that this is the most brilliant idea since the invention of the lightbulb, but... how is it going to be a surprise if you're the one throwing the party?"

Well this is gonna be stunning to you, watch this- are you watching? Watch. Watch this-look! check it out...

So ya, I don't know WHERE we're gonna meet. It's an undisclosed location, mmkay? Don't know when either. Could be on my bday, could be this weekend. Could be in 5 minutes, I don't know.

I'm gonna be totally surprised, and I'm not even gonna see it coming. It's gonna be awesome.

You know what? My birthday could come and go, and I'll be all like, "Oh man, guess no party this year." And then two weeks later my surprise party happens and I'll be like "Whoa! I'm totally surprised right now!" That's called the fake-out.

Everybody is bringing food for everybody, and nobody's allowed to tell anybody else what they're bringing. You can't even ask what type of food- appetizer, entree or dessert. Even you guys are gonna be surprised. Some people will be required to bring nothing. Surprise! No food! This is a surprise themed surprise party.

In fact, you will be required to wear casual clothes, costumes, evening wear, and/or pajamas. Or a toga. Just follow your gut instinct on this one. The only guide you must go by is that you must wear SOME form of clothing, no nudity. Unless your name is David Beckham. No, just kidding. I don't want anyone at my party focusing on anyone but me and how surprised I am. Good surprised, not appauled-surprised.

Now, I can't tell you for sure what sort of activities are going to be at the party, because you have been reading this blog long enough to know that I'm too into being surprised to want to know what's going on. That would ruin it. However, you are NOT going to want to miss it. I've got three words to toss your way: ummm... actually, I forgot them. I'll get back to you on those three words. But seriously, you're not gonna want to miss this. OH, Wait! "Party of the... century"? That's 4 words. Well, I gave you an extra for your wait. But as far as entertainment goes, I'm thinking karaoke, flame jugglers, worlds most giant game of twister, pony rides, OH! Maybe we'll let people be shot out of a cannon. I think that'd be cool, because I haven't done that yet. What's better than virtual reality? ACTUAL reality. Hop on in there and get shot out of that cannon, just to say you did it. There may or may not be live performances/appearances by Madonna, Green Day, Celine Dion, Sting, and that kid who plays Harry Potter. He's a whiz at the clarinet, not a lot of people know that. Also maybe the B-52's, I don't know. I don't know any of these people personally, I'm just hoping they'll hear the buzz through the grapevine.

Several of you will be tasked with choosing the cake. I don't know who. You see, if I know who is in charge of the cake, I'll pretty much figure out what type of cake will be at the party, and that information is not far from knowing when the actual party is, then I'll discover the REAL guest list and activities and then nothing will be a surprise anymore NOTHING! So if you are supposed to bring a cake, you know who you are. If you're not sure whether or not you are a chosen cake bringer, you are one. Chose any sort of cake, but know this: I do not prefer chocolate cake. Neither does Leah, we are bonded in that way. Brownies are acceptable, but not as cake. If you bring Brownies, you'd better bring a cake too. Ice cream cake is always welcome, as are cheese and carrot.

If you mess up and bring a chocolate one, I'll probably take a bite of that too, just to make you feel good. After all, I don't want you to feel sad or akward at my surprise party because you forgot the one rule that I set. Know this, though, I will be glaring at you all night, and I will probably have David Beckham give you a wedgie when you least expect it. How will you get him back? It will be quite impossible.

Anyway, I am so excited! This is literally guarenteed to be the best party of my life. It seems a shame to get it done so early in my life, though... Guess I'll just have to raise the bar.

See you there!!!!!!!!!