L ovely lady lumps
A dores most things with 4 legs
U nfortunately No Longer a Virgin (bahaha. Yeah right. Who names a band that?)
R eally, really loves her friends
I s pretty sure that boys are dumb
E ats too much. But food is so yummy…
L ives for the weekend. And being cliché.
Y awns too much
O nly wants to be with you
N ot ashamed to admit how much she loves Britney
S till sleeps with a stuffed animal
K uddly
O h how I was to kiss you
A lifetime of bamboo you would get from me
L ove your little ears and nose and toes
A wwww
Showing posts with label name. Show all posts
Showing posts with label name. Show all posts
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Hi. I’m Laurie.
My mom and I always moved around a lot. I was never really sure why, growing up, and I’m not really sure to this day. Regardless, I turned out alright. Every new town always meant a new house, new school, new friends. It also meant a new phone book.
Every time we got to a new town, I would take out the white pages, flip to the L’s, and look. I would look for his name: Allen Lyons. That’s all I knew of him. A name. His name. My name. He was never there, though. Not that I would’ve done anything if I had found this random person named Allen Lyons. Or maybe I would have, who knows?
The funny part about all those times I went flipping through those tissue thin sheets is it was all, ALL in vain. Allen Lyons was never a part of me. He was never who I thought he was.
One camping trip, about 10 years ago, my aunt spilled the beans. She didn’t just spill the beans, though. She spilled the beans and wiped them all over the white couch that was my mom’s entire. I never saw the fallout that inevitably came after my aunt told me that my entire backstory was a lie, but I know it was there. As it turns out, Allen Lyons was not my dad. As it turns out, Allen Lyons was a tall, skinny red-head who was verbally and emotionally abusive. As it turns out, my mom cheated on him during their eight month marriage.
My dad. The one that made me but doesn’t actually know he made me? He has no name. He has no face. All I know is he was the (hot) Puerto Rican gym coach at the high school in a town where I eventually spent time poring through a phone book, moving into a new house, checking in at a new school, and making new friends.
After my mom got married in 1997, I was no longer related to anyone named ‘Lyons.’ So yeah, my name is Laurie Lyons. And I fucking love it.
Every time we got to a new town, I would take out the white pages, flip to the L’s, and look. I would look for his name: Allen Lyons. That’s all I knew of him. A name. His name. My name. He was never there, though. Not that I would’ve done anything if I had found this random person named Allen Lyons. Or maybe I would have, who knows?
The funny part about all those times I went flipping through those tissue thin sheets is it was all, ALL in vain. Allen Lyons was never a part of me. He was never who I thought he was.
One camping trip, about 10 years ago, my aunt spilled the beans. She didn’t just spill the beans, though. She spilled the beans and wiped them all over the white couch that was my mom’s entire
My dad. The one that made me but doesn’t actually know he made me? He has no name. He has no face. All I know is he was the (hot) Puerto Rican gym coach at the high school in a town where I eventually spent time poring through a phone book, moving into a new house, checking in at a new school, and making new friends.
After my mom got married in 1997, I was no longer related to anyone named ‘Lyons.’ So yeah, my name is Laurie Lyons. And I fucking love it.
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