Go To Bed.

14 Jul

sleepover-wrap-party-01You’s guys. My bezzzz friend Dan Magro and I FINISHED 18 bonafide episodes of “Sleepover With Dan + Lauren”! And to celebrate — in lieu of having everyone over for the world’s sweatiest, most awkwardest actual sleepover — we threw a good ole fashioned party.

That’s us up top, kinda looking like DJs, kinda looking like we had a personal relationship with the bartender…(Looks like water, tastes like alcoholic Christmas trees!)sleepover-wrap-party-10We gussied ourselves up (I am definitely wearing that same dress I always wear: Mischa Barton’s hand-me-down Herve Leger, which I’ll wear until it becomes one sad little dangling bandage…) and hit Gold Coast in West Hollywood. With a million of our closest friends and fans (wink!). We felt totally honored that everyone came out to party with us (and watch the Season 1 finale!) It was — a total blast.

There were Sleepover posters, a bumpin soundtrack… snacks upon snacks! Rock candy, cookies, popcorn, PINK SHIMMERING GUMBALLS…! We went all out. Sleepover style!

I’m sorry, but our friends know how to class up a dive bar! That’s our favorite “@KlassyFucker” himself, with Dan and I. And crossing the street — DREW IS WEARING A TIE! How adorable is he.
sleepover-wrap-party-04Grace, Alli and Kayla… I mean, style for days! (The boys look good too….)

sleepover-wrap-party-02sleepover-wrap-party-05These two could teach a class on smiling for photos while looking hot. Lauren (there’s just *something* about her name, left), actually *made* “TeddyCorn” for us — I was hallucinating, I was so excited. I think it was gummy bears and kettle corn and amazing. If you know the show, you know we love our precious lil TeddyCorn!sleepover-wrap-party-03ChadMichael is too good for sidewalks and standing. And I agree. (“Maw, can I keep him??”) sleepover-wrap-party-06Lips, leather, bangs! With Kathleen, Kirsten and S. Evelyn! (And man friend.)sleepover-wrap-party-08Ah-HAH! Evidence that someone ate one of our snacks. (Possibly). I don’t want to name names, but I think I polished off whatever was left. So, like 500 chocolate chip cookies.

This pic totally makes me smile. Orianna and Crystal chillin like Bob Dylan:sleepover-wrap-party-07And then, The Dan and Chris Slim’n’Tall Club. It’s very exclusive. I tried to get in, but even in heels, I was like a hopeful hobbit.

sleepover-wrap-party-09

The evening wound down for me with my signature “OMG MY FEET ARE KILLING ME” flip flops, and tacos. Because every nite should probably end in tacos.

Catch up on Sleepover this summer AND check out our finale episode! If you’ve seen even one of our shows, you can dive right in! Spoiler: We’re in pajamas, in public. (Which has been my lifelong dream, duh.)

Thanks so much to all of you who worked on our show, followed our show, and in general made it more fun to DO our show. We love you from the bottoms of our footie pajamas.

XX,

L

All original photography by Marc Blackwell, who is super talented and also very cool to work with. So if you have a thing, call him. He’s rad.

It’s A Sign.

30 Jun

hollywood-sign-me-turnham-01

I am having some JGSAD today. (June Gloom Seasonal Affective Disorder). June Gloom is this weird cloud layer (It’s not SMOG – I checked) that hangs around and makes the mornings dark and kinda chilly. I’m drinking iced cold brew coffee, wearing a sweater and shorts, squinting even though there is no sunshiny sun — WHAT IS REAL ANYMORE. But we Angelenos willingly accept this month-long punishment for having the best weather in the continental U.S. the rest of the year.

I mean, come on. My skin has become the thinnest layer of an onion, tolerating nothing but 75 degrees and mostly sunny. Thanks, Los Angeles!

That’s what THREE YEARS IN LA will do to ya. Turn you into a weenie who’s disturbed by clouds. I’ve actually been here 3 1/2 years and to celebrate, my old roomie Chris Turnham and I made our first pilgrimage to the Hollywood Sign! High atop the hills of mansions and celebrities, there are the letters: H-O-L-L-Y-W — ok, you can spell. Continue reading

Movania’s In The Bag.

23 Jun

movania-meany-mays-bag-02So I was doing this acting thing with this kid Art Parkinson (and when I say “thing” I mean awesome upcoming project and when I say “kid”, I mean successful actor you’ve seen on, oh I dunno – Game of Thrones ‘n stuff…). He has so much talent packed in that little kid body of his. I learned so much from him. Mostly, what the cool kids in Ireland are saying these days… which I can’t tell you or I’ll have to kill you. Let’s just say you’ll need some “major skillage” if you wanna hang ten in Ireland. Is there surfing? I dunno. There is definitely whiskey. Continue reading

Shooting Marie Callender’s.

17 Jun

marie-callenders-shoot-01I dunno about you guys, but I loves me some pie. Apple, key lime, chocolate cream, peach, blueberry, strawberry, razzleberry… You get it.

So when I got the chance to be obsessed with pie on camera for a paycheck, you know I pretty much cocoa-pie’d my pants in excitement!

Marie Callender’s only ever existed in the freezer aisle of my formidable East Coast years. But on the West Coast, there are like — real restaurants, with delicious HOT food. And margaritas the size of your head. Us actors would be playing the most enthusiastic Marie Callender’s servers ever there were. Continue reading

Russian Lady Day.

15 May

me-momI don’t want to sound like an asshole.

I mean, I have a Mother. And a really amazing one. She’s the kindest, most generous person I know. And I will always want to make her proud of me. Her heart is the size of a beach ball, and her capacity to love, surpasses any living human’s. She is beautiful. Her teeth are white as snow. And her joyful spirit will always be that of a fun 29 year old.

My sister is also a Mother. And a great one. With a full-time job, and two little’ns under the age of three. She never sleeps, she travels for work, and somehow she never turns the page to “raging homicidal maniac”.

Many of my friends are also Mothers. I see their adorable, messy, hilarious photos and updates online. Once in a while, witnessing them in action. They are amazing women, each unique and strong and perfectly imperfect.

Truly, I am in awe of them. I couldn’t do what they do.

I can barely do what I do.

We used to “make my Mom breakfast in bed” (thanks to my Dad) on Mother’s Day, and then sit too close to her and watch her drink fresh OJ and a muffin or something. We had long since before, eaten too many bowls of Fruit Loops, because we had already been up for 15 hours, because we were kids, and our job was to be annoying. Sleeping in? What was that! The sun was lazy compared to us! UGH, why is this orange juice thing taking forever!

In the days leading up to Mom’s Day this year, I definitely watched too many diamond commercials, stabbing at my last remaining heart-string, “IF YOU’RE WORTH ANYTHING IN LIFE, YOU GET A DIAMOND, YOU STUPID IDIOT!” with swooning, mushy-hearted men who would never exist in real life and not one day come out as unapologetically gay. Continue reading

My Baby Is A Pillow.

22 Apr

pillow“You’re sitting in a wheelchair, looking at your premature baby in an incubator, and you’ve just gotten out of surgery, having almost died. Aaaaaand…action.”

I fixed my eyes on what I decided was the “incubator”. A burgundy throw pillow, on the opposite side of the room.

“Take your time with this… I’m going to improv with you between your lines.” The casting director fired up the camera.

Oh no. Ok. Well, here goes.

Me: “Doctor, I —“

“YES, how can I help.”

Oh. This is like, a lot of improv. Between all the words.

“Doctor, I—“

“Mm-hmm.”

“…I am wondering if my baby will be—“

“Yes.”

“—be… OK. If she will be ok…”

My eyes were welling up. I held on tightly to my wheelchair, which was a plastic office chair with normal legs. I tried to seem “Tired. Recently surgeried.” Continue reading

Culture Club.

14 Apr

lacma-james-turrellThat room right there in that photo? Totally glowy in hot pink light, that you get to stand in the middle of, blissfully losing touch with reality, even though you’ve got super-dork booties on your feet. Like you’re some kinda hippie barefoot doctor of… not helping people.

My friend Chris Turnham asked if Ervin and I wanted to go to LACMA (Los Angeles County Mega Awesome…right?) to see the James Turrell retrospective, a few weeks back.

“YES!!” I said. And then, “Who is James Turrell?” is what I typed into Google. Ah-HA. He does art with light and something or…. I don’t know. But everyone and their blogging bestie was raving about this show. I wasn’t NOT gonna go. Continue reading

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