Like The Sound of A Garbage Truck Falling Off The Empire State Building

I recently signed up for a program which shows me many interesting facts about my blog and the people that find it, like your names and addresses and social security numbers. Ha! I kid. But things like the city you are viewing my blog from, what time of day you looked at it, etc. Fear not, obsessive checkers of my blog, I still don't know exactly who you are unless you comment of course. So feel free to just keep stalking me while I look up important information, like how you got to my blog. Most readers seem to link directly from the mainpage which, I'm sorry, I have to change the picture and update the books/movies list. I KNOW! I KNOW! It's terrifying to me that I've read almost nothing this year but feel like I'm reading ALL THE DAMN TIME. This is most likely linked to my magazine subscriptions. Those articles in Vanity Fair, are they they LONGEST ARTICLES IN THE HISTORY OF LONG or am I just crazy? (Crazy!)

ANYWAY. Worthy of note, someone recently found my blog by googling the phrase "My stomach is hard and full of gas."

Oh, sweetheart. I know what you're going through. Go to the doctor. Stop eating cheese. Etc. Etc.

How did YOU find my blog? HMMMM? Yes, you.

Eh, no matter.

It's baffling to me that I've had this blog for SO LONG and JUST learned how to track such vital information. I'm what you call a little...slow. (see also: blonde, 50% Polish). Also, there are far more people reading my blog than there are commenters. Why? Why are you so shy? WHY DO YOU HATE ME?

So, this is the last weekend of the show. It's been going well. We've been reviewed quite a number of times and it's been mostly positive. My parents came last Saturday night and gave it a glowing two thumbs up. Well, four thumbs up since they have two thumbs apiece. They are partial, you could say. I mean, they would love anything I do (see also, the time I played a turtle in "Children of Eden" my freshman year of college) but at the same time, they aren't really shy at this point about what they don't like. So, it felt good that they raved about it over delicious Vietnamese food. For the record, my father hates Wicked because it's too "complicated", my mother hates Jesus Christ Superstar because it makes Jesus look like He had sexual interest in Mary Magdalene and THAT IS NOT HOW IT WAS, SHE WOULD KNOW.)

But they really loved this show, particularly my father who was familiar with a lot of the music. We're doing the 1973 revival version as opposed to the 1919 version (thank the good Lord!) but my father is old enough to know the songs from the original production. To be fair, this is mainly because my father's mother used to sing a few songs from the show while she was doing chores around the house. As the songs came up in the show, my dear father became ridiculously nostalgic for my good old Grandma Agnes. He assured me that if she was still alive, she would have loved it. That's all well and good but I was more concerned with the fact that if she were still alive, I could be living with her in the top floor of a Park Slope brownstone, feasting on her homemade chocolate pudding. But, yeah, I guess she would've liked the show, too.

Speaking of chocolate pudding, (nice segue! WOO!) I'm trying to lower my sugar consumption. I was inspired by Laurie. Have you been reading Laurie's blog? You should be. I just started and haven't had time to go through her archives but she's an incredible writer and I feel like she is able to articulate many things that I feel but cannot say. This is because Laurie is a great example of someone who speaks English well, who ponders life's questions and writes eloquently on many topics whereas I like to stutter, use words that don't exist and write entries that people can easily find by googling MY STOMACH IS HARD AND FULL OF GAS.

At any rate, I've been keeping a food journal and I'm downright astounded at the things I'm consuming on a daily basis. I seem to do okay until I head over to my job and then apparently, I NEVER STOP EATING. It's especially bad because I'm constantly trying to get the twins to eat something, ANYTHING and we fatten up all their food as much as possible--olive oil in their pasta, heavy doses of homemade cinnamon buns or brownies, etc. But of course they just pick at that stuff and then there are leftovers and you don't want to let it go to waste, I watched American Idol this week, I KNOW there are starving people in Africa! So I eat it. And voila, I weigh 9,000 pounds.

I'm trying not to calorie count as much as focus on calculating grams of protein, sugar and fiber but woah, am I consuming too many calories. To all the vegan haters out there, surprisingly, I'm getting plenty of protein. (At least I think so, despite my muscle tissue evaporating into thin air and oh my God I think I lost all my hair! I'm bald! WHERE IS A COW THAT I CAN SLAUGHTER?) I have not yet reintroduced dairy into my diet (and have not really made plans to do so, despite doctors orders) and I find that I get plenty of protein from the things I eat every day. I'm averaging between 50 and 70 grams of protein a day and 20-30 grams of fiber. Please give me a gold star because I am a perfectionist. Thank you.

At the beginning of my food journal, a typical day is like this:

Breakfast: Smoothie!
Lunch: Cashews, vegetable soup, peanut butter and jelly sandwich
Dinner: 8 bowls of pasta, perhaps a salad
In between: 10,000 chocolate chips + peanut butter soy ice cream + cereal + small children marinated in high fructose corn syrup and sugar and deep fried in lots of vegan lard

After a solid week of journaling, my days are starting to look like this:

10 am

Strawberry Banana Smoothie A-Go-Go

2/3 c. frozen strawberries
1 c. orange juice
1 banana
1 scoop soy protein powder
2 Tbsp. flaxseed
3 equal parts love, affection and morning breath

380 calories/20g protein/9g fiber/45g sugar

12 pm

Chocolate Peppermint Stick Luna Bar AKA How I Get My Daily Dose of B12

180 calories/9g protein/3g fiber/9g sugar

4 pm

6 Red Pepper Tofu Ravioli with Newman's Marinara Sauce

250 calories/12g protein/4g fiber/12.5 g sugar

(Is 11g of sugar per 1/2 c. of Newman's tomato sauce high? It's pretty high on the ingredient list but I don't know how this compares to other tomato sauces. I need to just make my own sauce but eh, I'm lazy and am all about people who do things for me. PLUS I LOVE SUGAR.)

5 pm

3 oz. baby carrots, 1 bag of Annie's chocolate chip Bunny Grahams

178 calories/3 g protein/3g fiber/14 g sugar

9 pm

whole wheat pita with red pepper hummus, 2 soy sausage patties, lettuce and tomato
1 c.raisin bran crunch cereal
1/2 c. plain soymilk

460 calories/17g protein/8g fiber/22 g sugar

There are 20 grams of sugar in one serving of Raisin Bran Crunch. I feel like that SUCKS and possibly why I find it so damn delicious.

Anyway, totals for the day:

1448 calories/61g protein/27g fiber/102.5g sugar

This is a pretty atypical day, the more I think about it. I've been averaging about 1800-1900 calories a day though the protein and fiber for this day are pretty accurate. I usually eat a lot more vegetables, too. The sugar seems a lot to me. I know that smoothie in the morning pretty much kills me though it's all natural at the very least. I'm not sure that makes a difference. Point is, I'm definitely aware of how much I crave chocolate after meals and how hard it is for me to deny myself that "treat". I just may be addicted to sugar and am trying desperately to wean myself off of it. I shouldn't need something sweet after every meal to clue myself in to the fact that I'm done eating.

Suggestions for how to stop myself from gorging on chocolate chips and sugary cereal?

This has been random but I hope you all enjoyed the nutrition lesson and the banality of my life. Stay tuned for my new book, How To Keep A Food Journal And Up Your Dork Factor! Also, stay tuned for an update of today's philosophy class where I discover that I'm probably over-analyzing my entire life and also, that the woman next to me wears hot pink plastic hoop earrings.

I'm A Loner, Dottie, A Rebel.

Thursday, on the subway, there was a lady sitting across from me holding a Puma bag. I began to think that I wanted a Puma bag, should totally get a Puma bag for my gym gear, am totally getting buff at the gym, I should really go more often, I totally would if I had that Puma bag and then...

OH MY GOD.

THAT LADY JUST THREW UP.

She threw up! Right across from me! All over the floor! Ick!

Everyone immediately got up and moved away from her but I just sat and stared because holy, wow, ew. Luckily, the lady next to me had a roll of paper towels in her bag (what? How!?) and helped the woman clean herself up. They placed sheets of the paper towel down on the floor to cover the...bodily fluids. Turns out the woman was pregnant. And totally mortified. Poor dear.

So I did what any normal person would do. I offered her a stick of Wrigley's Spearmint gum. And she took it. Some of my friends said that this was offensive, that by doing this, I was kind of telling the lady that her breath smelled. I say I was just being a moral citizen. Don't YOU want a stick of gum after YOU vomit on the 3 train somewhere between 50th and 66th Street? Just saying.

My philosophy class this morning got a little heavy, as philosophy classes are wont to do. I wasn't sure I was going to dig the whole idea of a 10-week "Who Am I?" "What's My Purpose?" "What Am I Doing On Earth?" kind of class. This is because I spend every single second of my life wondering these questions, especially the last one except I usually phrase it differently, like, for example, "What Am I Doing In Queens?"

In fact, on my way back from class today, I kept asking that same question over and over again, since the school is on 79th between Madison and 5th Avenue and it was a beautiful spring day and I walked down Park Avenue to the subway and DEAR PARENTS: WHY DID YOU NEVER INVEST IN NYC REAL ESTATE? WHY WHY WHY? Sigh. Why must I always have to swim upstream?

Anyway, I REALLY enjoyed class today though I must admit, it made my brain hurt. The pressing question that was stirred up in class today concerns the idea of enlightenment. (The class did not bring this specific question up, namely, it's something that I just kind of wonder about on my own and feel too stupid to actually wonder outloud in a classroom setting.) We were talking, albeit briefly, on those certain individuals who have achieved total serenity and who constantly live in the moment and do not concern themselves with stress or past or future or worry. These people have found inner peace or are just very wise or very enlightened or very philosophical, whatever. At the very least, they are very calm.

My question is: Is that even NATURAL?

As humans, aren't we meant to experience joy and pain and anger and jealousy and intestinal difficulties?

As an actor, I have a hard time accepting that my ultimate GOAL in life should be a state of serenity. (And again, that's not what this class is about, it was just touched upon lightly this morning.) I don't like the idea of total serenity or peace or whatever at all. I think because I'm equating the phrase "total enlightenment" with "feeling emotion". And I WANT to feel emotions because they make me feel alive. I'm not sure how I would get through the day if I were just floating happily by, totally at ease with everyone around me. The fact is, I'm NOT at ease sometimes and I feel like that's okay and that if I WERE at total ease, I would be bored or, at the very least, have NOTHING to blog about. Tragedy!

So where's the line between finding happiness and enlightenment and just living your life the best you can? I don't know. It just seems that we're told that our goal in life should be to find HAPPINESS. And I'm not quite sure why. We're pressured to fall in love, so we can get married and be HAPPY! Or make lots of money and feel security and be HAPPY! What? Why? I don't think it's natural to be happy all the time.

And let's face it, you are talking to one chipper young lady. I believe that most people in high school wanted to punch me in the face, just to get me to stop smiling. BUT COME ON! I listened to showtunes and praised the good Lord Jesus Christ. Why would I not smile? Smiling is good. I get that. I want to be happy too, I do. But all the time happy happy joy joy? Um. I'm not sure.

I understand wanting to find peace in a hectic world. Hell, I'm in a practical philosophy class so obviously, I'm looking for SOMETHING. I understand living in the moment and the importance of being present. These are things, especially as an actor, that I think are very valuable. And caring less about what happened yesterday or what might happen tomorrow...well, that is probably for the best. But I guess I'm not sure what the GOAL is.

If the goal is to be in a state of serenity, I don't think I want to achieve it. Unless I am missing the point. Am I missing the point? Any deep thinkers out there lurking in cyberspace? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so heavy on y'all. That's why I started out this entry with a story about a lady who barfed in public.

And I'm going to end it by asking one more thing: If I do reach a state of total enlightenment and serenity, a place where I am channeling only positive energy all the time, a state of being where I am totally present and focused and relaxed, if I get myself to that place, will there be chocolate chip pancakes waiting for me?

Irene

So, I'm in a show. We've been rehearsing for the past two weeks and I didn't really tell anyone because I'm not in much of it and I HATE being that girl who sends out mass e-mails like, "HEY OMG OMG COME SEE MY SHOW U GUYZ! IN THE BASEMENT OF A BAR IN THE EAST VILLAGE, NUDE SHAKESPEARE. IT IZ AWESOME!" But this is actually a GOOD show. With a reputable company.

So. Whatever. I'm in a show.

We open tonight and we got a plug on playbill.com and it's not really that exciting but it is to me, because, you know I used to log onto the playbill.com message boards in high school (when they existed) and post random random comments about my favorite cast members in "Rent". Ah, what it is to be lame.

You can view the Playbill article here.

It opens tonight and runs through April 29th.

I'm in the ensemble, which is nothing to brag about but it kind of is because I get to be on a stage singing and stuff. Which is kind of what I went to school for. And kind of what makes me deliriously, ridiculously, I WANT TO THROW A PARTY happy. All the time.

If you're interested, come on down. The info is on the playbill link. You Equity peeps get in fo' free. Everyone else, $20. Unless you're poor, then talk to me and I will work some comp magic. Because I am suave like that.

I would write more but my stomach has since deflated and is feeling much better and I'm about to go feed him some oatmeal, because he LOVES oatmeal, could eat oatmeal ALL DAY LONG. My stomach loves oatmeal lately the way it usually loves pancakes. WHICH IS A WHOLE LOT. Mmmm pancakes. On second thought...

Cheese Update

So, I wrote the previous post in quite a bit of agony, kvetching in a somewhat humorous way about my decision to eat a crapload of dairy four months after becoming a vegan and the subsequent sharp shooting pains that followed.

Here is Part 2, where we figure out what exactly is ailing our heroine!

I was doing okay Tuesday morning, had some oatmeal, went to the gym, sang pretty at an audition, etc. And then I guess I ate a little too much too fast later in the afternoon because Tuesday around 5 pm EST, my stomach ruptured into 10,000 pieces of shrapnel. I'm not quite sure how, but it happened.

I spent the rest of the night in the fetal position, switching between the kitchen floor and the living room floor, alternately sipping ginger tea and screaming my head off. I went to bed, thinking I could sleep it off but OH NO. THAT WOULD'VE BEEN EASY. Instead, I woke up every hour, EVERY SINGLE HOUR - 2:30 am, 3:41 am, 4:16 am, etc. - running to the bathroom. Your helpful laxative suggestions? So unnecessary. Let's just say that.

Around 5:45 in the morning, I stopped going back to bed and sat in the bathtub, with the shower shooting water pellets down on my shoulders, hugging my knees and examining the shampoo bottles. I looked down at my abdomen and noticed that I appeared to be at least in my first trimester of pregnancy. Sitting there, in the shower, I had a fleeting thought: "I think normal people would see a doctor about this."

Around 8:00 in the morning, I attempted to call a doctor and get an opinion.

"Do you have a fever?" asked Dr. SmartyPants.

"I don't know!" I wailed. "I don't have a thermometer!"

"Well. Get out of bed and get one and if you have a fever, come in because it could be a viral infection."

Click.

Get out of bed!? Who the hell do you think you are!? I'm in PAIN here. My bed is safe and warm! I prefer curling up in it and clutching the covers and moaning to my roommate to come help me wash my face. (He totally did. With a washcloth. And THEN he brought me a cotton pad with eye-makeup remover on it. AWESOME.)

I've realized that when it comes to being sick, I'm not that strong. I TRY to be strong. I don't want to delve and get too personal here (HAHA LAXATIVES! TOO LATE!) but I've had some moments in my life where I've been in extreme pain. The kind of pain where you wish someone would just cut off your arm with a chainsaw because that would probably hurt less than what you're going through at the moment. I've tried to be strong in those moments and sometimes I've succeeded. Lately, not so much.

Now, I'm the kind of girl with her cheek down on the tiles of the bathroom floor, moaning for someone to take away the pain, sweet Jesus why doesn't anyone LOVE ME!? What can I say? I don't "suck it up" that well. I want to pretend that in the throws of childbirth, I will breathe my way through dilation and meditate my way through contractions, avoiding all offers of drugs. Lately, I've been thinking that I will be screaming for an epidural about a week before the baby is due. Future Husband: Be Prepared.

So after I watched "The View" (and wondered why the HELL I was watching "The View"), I decided to call a doctor. I wandered into a Health Clinic around 1 pm and got the answers I was searching for.

Doctor: So. You gave up dairy?

Me: Yeah.

Doctor: That is...so not a good idea.

Me: Um. Yeah.

Doctor: Why did you do that?

Me: *shrug* Can you fix my stomach? It's broken.

I lay down and doctor proceeds to feel up my abdomen.

Doctor: Oh my GOD, you have a LOT going on in there.

Me: Is it twins?

Doctor: No, it's gas. Your entire abdomen is full of gas and it doesn't seem to want to go anywhere.

Me: HOW DO I MAKE IT GO SOMEWHERE? THIS HURTS LIKE HELL!

Doctor: You shouldn't have given up dairy.

Me: SIGH.

By giving up dairy for four months, I unknowingly stripped my intestines of lactase, the enzyme used to digest dairy products. I then forced an obscene about of mozzarella cheese down my digestive tract and my body FLIPPED THE HELL OUT because it didn't know how to process it. Hence, a ton of gas, just hanging out in my abdomen, making me look very knocked up.

So, I have pills to help with the cramping and I'm under strict orders to eat saltines and gatorade and gingerale in an effort to get myself unpregnant. I'm super dehydrated since I realized that every time I drank water, I had to run to the bathroom to expel it. So, we're trying to remedy that situation as I type and by "we" I mean my totally pathetic GASSY self.

I could not feel anymore gross right now.

I also could not regret anything more in my life.

Except that time I accidentally hit my sister in the face with a rake and caused her to get stiches.

Besides that, THIS SUCKS SO HARD. The End.

Please, Someone, Anyone, Move My Cheese

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN AKA EVERYONE:

I have a lump of cheese in my stomach.

No. A rock.

I have a rock of cheese in my stomach, an amalgamation of mozzarella and ricotta cheese, to be specific. It is unmoving and hard, firm and defiant. And frankly, I need it to go away ASAP.

You might ask, "How did it get there, Laura? Aren't you eating a vegan diet?"

Funny you should ask.

I became a vegan on December 21stish, 2006, in the year of our Lord Jesus Christ. Since that time, I've "caved in" and ate non-vegan food several times, mostly desserts. (See also, the previous post.) And while these desserts contained butter or milkfat or eggs, they were not comprised solely of these ingredients. Since deciding to give up animal products, I hadn't bitten into a hunk of cheese or chugged down a glass of whole milk. And while I felt mostly alright after eating the occasional non-vegan dessert, there were a few times where I felt a bit...unsettled afterwards. (See also: strawberry cheesecake) But nothing SERIOUS. Until now.

On Saturday night, my vegetarian boss casually mentioned that there was leftover lasagna and stuffed shells in the refrigerator and hey, if you're into it, you could totally have some for dinner.

Hmmm.

Immediately I said to myself, "SELF. That is dairy."

And then myself came to its senses and said, "Dang girl. You love Italian food so much and you've been SO GOOD about not eating dairy, hell it's been four months, you DESERVE IT."

And then myself made myself a plate of said food.

Wait. What?

Anyway, I felt a little bit nauseated afterward and had a brief thought of, "I probably shouldn't have done that..." But the Suze Orman show was on TV so I became immediately distracted by Roth IRAs. And then I went home and went to bed.

I woke up Sunday morning and went to church. My stomach was rumbling a bit and I figured I needed some breakfast. So after I praised the risen Lord Jesus Christ and punched a few snobby elderly churchgoers in the face, I went home and made myself a smoothie. With fruit. And orange juice. Mmmm acidic! We can all guess what happened next.

Fast forward to my parents' house for Easter dinner later in the afternoon. Best friend Alayna sits with my family, laughing, talking, passing delicious food around the table. Why is Alayna sitting there when Laura is nowhere to be seen? Laura, oh Laura, why are you not celebrating the risen Lord by feasting on string beans and drinking Chardonnay?

Because Laura is laying on the couch, popping Pepto Bismol, alternately dozing off and moaning in agony.

I did not have a single thing to eat on Easter Sunday except that damn smoothie and a few saltines. Today, I had the saltines and a few vegetables. It wouldn't be so bad if I was actually getting sick, if it was like a routine stomach virus that kept me chained to the toilet, hugging it for dear life, wondering why I can't stop vomiting, THERE'S NOTHING LEFT IN ME, PLEASE NO MORE GAGGING.

But that is not the case here. Sadly, I wish it were. The problem here is: THE ROCK OF CHEESE IS STILL THERE.

I know this is too much information, much more than you needed to ever know about me, but you guys?

I CAN'T PASS THE CHEESE.

It won't come out! Up or down, it won't come out! It's stuck in my stomach or an intestine or my spleen or something and it is absolutely agonizing. HOW DO I MAKE IT COME OUT!? I can't make myself throw up, I was never one of those girls. Do I have to drink some laxative tea or something? I don't want to because it gives me terrible cramps but I feel like maybe I should? It's been 48 hours, how much longer can this go on!? (Hi all potential boyfriends reading my website! Want to go out on a date? I am sexy and talking about my bowels! Call me!)

Someone offered up the helpful suggestion that it could just be a huge gas bubble hanging out in my stomach but I really truly believe it's the cheese. It HAS TO BE. It hurts so incredibly badly. It's a tightly woven knot of saturated fat and animal hormones just sitting like a tub of lard in my stomach. Well actually, not LIKE a tub of lard it just IS a tub of lard sitting in my stomach. And oh God, it was so delicious on the way down, it really really was. And now, I regret each delicious morsel, each forkful dripping with tomato sauce and gooey, stringy mucous-causing animal protein.

Dear Risen Lord Baby Jesus Christ Who Died On A Cross, I AM SO SO SORRY FOR SINNING AND STUFF BUT MOSTLY I AM SORRY FOR EATING THE CHEESE. Amen, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Nothing To Report

Today I had breakfast lunch brunch a meal at 10:30 am with Vegan Mike. It consisted of various Whole Foods prepared vegan delicacies. For me: shanghai dumplings, spinach artichoke pasta, cucumber and tomato salad, lemon-baked tofu and quinoa with tomatoes and olives.

And then I went to work and came home and over that span of eight hours, I ate 8,000 pounds of Godiva Easter chocolate.

I'm pretty sure none of it was vegan since all Godiva chocolate contains milkfat.

I'm pretty sure all of it was delicious.

That is all.