Milo the Maniac

His name is Milo. He is 20 pounds of pure adrenaline. His white fluffy coat should not be mistaken for weakness. He is a maniacal killing machine. The great white killer is his persona when in the great outdoors. If there is a chipmunk or snake in sight, he will find it and take care of business.

In the house, though, great white is an attention hog. All he wants to do is lay in your arms and get tummy rubs. This personality is called Mi-Bear. He nuzzles as close as he can get until he covers at least 60 percent of your body.

The first time my boyfriend met Milo, he was preying on a poor innocent baby rabbit. He greeted Mark with a red stained beard and glassy eyes. Not the best introduction. Mark soon realized that Milo suffered from multiple personality disorder.

Was every dog like this? Did they have a carnal, killing side to them that could be repressed inside around people, but not in their natural element?

To an extent, I guess we all have different personalities. My best friend named her different side, Denise. Denise loves to dance. Denise also loves to call me at 4 a.m. on weekdays. I do not like Denise.

In a less ostentatious manner, I guess I have a few identities. Professional Lauren. Social Lauren. Kid Lauren. And my favorite, doggie Lauren.

It's fun to be able to wear different hats..put on appropriate outfits and act the part. I guess it's a flash back to childhood when you could be an astronaut, archaeologist and magician on the same day. Inside your amazing imagination you can be anything you desire.

When I come home to see Milo, though, the one personality I always want to see is genuine Milo. Plain, old, crazy whacked out dog.

This goes for my human friends too. After a night out on the town, I love to come home and hang out with my boyfriend. No forced conversation, extra-chipperness or uber-social antics. I wash my face and I am able to embrace my natural "Lauren." She is somewhat of a loner and loves zoning out to reality TV.

It's still fun to embrace other arenas that are outside my comfort zone or bring out a different side of me, as long as when I come home, I am the same old, boring, sensitive, loving - me.

My mouth

I have a terrible habit of putting my foot in my mouth. Case in point...one day I was walking down Southport with my sister and saw a sweet little black dog. Naturally, I went up to pet it. Attempting to compliment this adorable little guy, I told his owner that he had the most beautiful blue eyes. My sister immediately jabbed me in the side. I obviously still hadn't put two and two together. The owner let out a slight laugh and said, "Honey, those are cataracts."

Wow. I'm a girl of many words but at this point, I chose to just walk away, shamed.

What is wrong with me?? How could I have not put this together? I'm a dog lover and have been around plenty of old dogs.

A second example of my idiot-dum, occurred this past weekend. I was hosting one of my best friend's engagement parties and couldn't be happier by the show in attendance. But when a crowd comes along, my awkwardness follows suit. For some reason I can't keep it together around a lot of people. I mix up the order of my words and try to bust out jokes that either lay flat or die completely on arrival.

My friend was used to this but she was not used to what I was about to say. When I was trying to tell her how happy I was for her and what a good guy she found, I proceeded to go off about all the women that would want to date or marry him and how she needs to watch out.

Good intentions, totally wrong execution.

I think I have a clinical disorder where my obstinate mouth fails to follow my brain and hopelessly dribbles out nonsense. There should be a treatment for this before I offend everyone around me.

Luckily, I'm only with people 1% of my day. My job is right for me on so many different levels and an apparent benefit is that I won't affront people on a daily basis.

There is a dog that I walk that I have always felt a deep bond with. She is a little cooky and ticks off most dogs around her.

After studying her behavior, I realized what it was. When she met another dog she would either go right for the jugular or to the less desirable parts. There was no, "Hi, it's nice to meet you, my name is Dog. Now can I please smell your butt?" It was more like, "Move it buddy, I'm going to smell your butt whether you like it or not."

Poor girl. She was obviously never versed in dog etiquette and scared off most friends before she could make them. This was my kind of girl, though. We were the offensive team together. Watch out Chicago, we will single-handedly scare off your dog and owner simultaneously.

Now my dog on the other hand, was always very polite. He would give the standard kisses and smells and would always have deep conversations before ever offending anyone.

I decided from now on before I talk, I will vow to ask my dog what he would do, because all the dogs in the neighborhood seem to be in love with him. Leave it up to my eloquent little buddy:) Maybe I will start taking tips from him now on.

Bureaucracy

I cried numerous times this week. But there was only one cause of my angst - bureaucracy. First perpetrator? My health insurance company.

Lets play out the scenario. Three conversations prior to my sinus surgery, I was assured that 90% of my surgery would be covered. Now, my health insurance company decided to have amnesia because it was apparently all my responsibility to bear. So, I decided to embark on a fact-finding mission.

During my first call, I was greeted by that infamous woman - the automated operator. I imagine the person that created this female (lets call her Jane) thought her voice would evoke calm and peace. To me, though, this voice had the uncanny ability to drive me to pure insanity in less than 30 seconds.

Today, we were off to a bad start. Jane was prompting me to give my health insurance policy number but "could not understand" me after four tries. Maybe she couldn't understand me because she repeatedly interrupted me while I was beginning to say my ID number.

Instead of transferring me to the real operator (the humane thing to do), Jane was dead set on getting my information before I could speak to anyone. I found myself screaming into the phone in the middle of Jewel - 8 - 0 - 3 ....A few women walked by me wondering why my face was beat red and why I was so mad at my phone, but a young guy sauntered by and gave me a knowing look. He knew all about Jane and her inability to comprehend numbers.

Finally, Jane decided to let me speak to her cohort. By the time I reached this poor woman, I was so exasperated that I had to catch my breath. I proceeded to tell her that 'Jane' was impossible to deal with and that I almost had a nervous breakdown trying to get through to her.

The operator was not interested in Jane or her peskiness, instead she informed me that she had no information regarding my case. Three people, and still no information. Apparently there was only one person that could help me finalize my claim - Jennifer. The problem was that Jennifer wouldn't call me back and I was beginning to think that this was purposeful as I left her more than five cryptic messages, each one getting more desperate and irate.

Normally, I consider myself a patient person, but today Jane just threw me over the edge. On top of all of that, I was knee deep in parking ticket issues with the City of Chicago. I am convinced that simultaneously dealing with these two organizations could send someone to the asylum.

The next stop on my bureaucratic meltdown was the post office. There were eight people in line and two postal workers. In a normal working environment this would take 10 minutes, but at the post office it naturally took 30. When I finally got up to the desk, the oblivious postal worker decided it was her obligation to fill in her fellow colleague about her weekend plans. I sat there dumbfounded.

"Excuse me miss, do you not see me here? The lowly US Post Office customer that is about to go postal on this place unless you take care of me soon and stop talking about your weekend of debauchery???"

This conversation played out in my head many different ways until she finally came back to me. But right then and there, I completely lost my gumption.

The point is that these bureaucracies unfortunately exist and they can either drive you insane or you can learn how to deal with them. I can assure you that crying is not the best coping method but I can also tell you that I know one way to let it roll off your back.

Meditation didn't work so well and either did yoga, but coming home to my dog and laying around petting his long, awesome pony tail ears did the trick. It's amazing how dogs can calm you down. So if you're in the middle of a bureaucratic crisis? Take some time to give your dog a belly rub and everything will seem OK in the world.