Monday, August 31, 2009


This happened a week or so ago, before school started. But I'm sharing this story now.

My coffee machine decided to die that morning.
I don't know why or what wasn't working, and I didn't care to know why or what either. What I did want to know was who I had pissed off that the coffee gods decided to hate me that morning. And how could I make amends. Because this no coffee thing? Not cool.

Due to my general morning fog which was only increased by my lack of caffeine, I crashed my bare foot into the oven. And promptly yelled "F*CK!" Very, very loud. My car was at the mechanics then. And Bailey wasn't putting any weight on her back leg so it was time for another round of vet visits.
(she doesn't "do" the annual appointment thing. She's ridiculously needy).

This was not shaping up to be a good morning at all. And I was getting stabby as a result. Somewhere in there, I knew the solution was to take a shower, put on pants, take the gimpy dog for her morning walk across the street and get a cup of coffee. Then call the vet, make an appointment, pick up my car, and get a new coffee maker.
Because that's what a grown up would do.

But instead, I sat and sulked and pouted like a bratty 4 year old.

Sunday, August 30, 2009


I admit I'm addicted to caffeine. I get headaches if I don't have a cup of coffee in the morning. But it's legal and fairly harmless. And it's not like I need a steady stream of it to function throughout the day. Well I did when I was in studio senior year, but those were extenuating circumstances. When you loose almost all (about 88%) of your work two weeks before it's due, other classes/eating/resting/sleep is no longer an option. My 30 minute full blown panic attack was the only time luxury I had.

But besides then (and other project weeks, though none were ever as stressful as that), my caffeine intake is one cup of coffee every morning. Regular drip, full caff (because decaf is for sissies and preggos). Sometimes I have a coke or another type of pop (I hate diet pop btw) a few times a week, and maybe twice a month I indulge in a foamy decadent fancy coffee in the afternoon (though I prefer it iced and not foamy in the summer).

So really, this isn't that big of a deal. When I want to have children I may have to reevaluate, but that's a few years off. And I don't drink enough to for it to be a huge concern (the general consensus of an acceptable level during pregnancy is 200 mg a day. That's just under 3 cans of coke. Course it really just depend on what your obgyn says). And if I do have to give it up completely because my doctor makes me, I will forever guilt my child. (What? I want to be a mom, but I never said I'd be an altruistic one). My ex and I had a conversation about my caffeine intake. He informed me I was giving coffee up completely for the sake of our unborn children. I said: No. ::pause::sigh:: Fine, I'll consider switching to decaf if the doctor tells me too, and only when the time comes. But you will never speak such evils to me ever again.

Why is it though that my non-coffee drinker boyfriends want me to get of the stuff though? I don't have a problem with a non coffee drinker, because that means more of it's heavenly elixir for me. But getting me off the stuff, that I don't want to be off in the first place, is a fail plan. I mean seriously, don't they understand that me with out caffeine is far scarier than me on a caffeine overload jitter high?

Friday, August 28, 2009

Corn hole

I. HATE. Corn hole. Reasons why:
  1. It sounds dirty
  2. It's boring with a capital Ugh.
  3. I don't play sports with balls or teams. This has teams (balls/bags, whatever, something you toss)
  4. When you live smack in the center of 4 frat houses and all you hear is thwap, thwap thawp routinely perforated with that quasi-drunk frat boy yell/cheer/growl/groan (it's yell with a gargle mixed in there somehow) for a solid week from all directions known as rush week, you get really annoyed, really fast.
  5. It takes for-ev-er to play one (one!) game. It sounds simple enough, 21 points wins. Point for getting a bag on the board, 3 for in the hole, something like that. But noooo, it's not get to 21 points first, it's a 21 point deferential. So in other words, bull sh*t. You score 2 for getting two bags on the board, but your opponent gets a bag in the hole. So instead of you getting 2 points and your opponent getting 3, opponent (who btw, apparently has better skills then you), gets 1 point of their rightful 3 because your bags take away two of their points and you score a huge fat zero that round anyway. For -f*cking- ever.
I went to the Woodland Arts Fair last weekend and there was a corn hole game going on. I briefly ran through the above explanations to my friend and she agreed with me. It's stupid. Right after I mentioned the frat guy growl/yell/war cry, someone playing the game kindly demonstrated it for me. So I had a total ah ha! moment and proceeded to point and screech at the game as if to say: see! see! That's what I'm talking about!

Seriously, I hate corn hole.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

32 years

My parent's have married for 32 years today. Thirty. Two. whoa.

You would be surprised the kind of looks you get when people find out your parents are still married to each other and that their marriage is years older than the oldest child.

Happy anniversary! Congratulations!

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Promise You Won't Be Mad

Those are never comforting words by the way.
I made zucchini bread the other day, and as the smell wafted through the house, it reminded me of the first time I made it back in my college apartment (which is different than my college house).

My roommate (Alison) and I were having friends come into town, so I was in hostess mode and making baked goods for our inevitably hung over asses. I decided to try my hand at a zucchini bread for some reason. When the bread came out of the oven, it smelled wonderful and it had risen enough that it cracked along the peak. I left the pan on the stove to cool and then left for work.

When I come home that night, I called out a "hi" to my roommate as I walk in the door. But instead of the normal "hi" back, I'm greeted with a sheepish:

A: "Promise you won't be mad at me."
Seeing she has all her limbs I figure this can't be too bad honestly.
But I still say, "what did you do?"
A: "Promise you won't be mad."
Me: "What did you do Alison?"
A: "Promise you won't be mad..."

Me: Well, I can't really promise that until I know what you did. But ok, I promise I won't be mad."
She leads me into the kitchen
A: "I, umm, sorta ate some of the zucchini bread..." ::voice trailing off::

I'm thinking oh is that it? And then I see why.

She had been nibbling on the bread by picking at the crack on top (I had too before I left though). And kept picking at it until there was a huge gully dug out. And once she realized there was a huge hole in the bread, she figured f*ck it, and just cut a slice.

I laughed so hard I cried.

She felt so bad though that she quickly made the cinnamon topped mini loves we had stored in the pantry shelve for months. But at least we had tons of baked goods for our hung over asses. And it was, indeed, awesome.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Anyone else starting to get sick of all my boy related talk? Because I am. Seriously, the default crush, the name change, the boyfriend list, fraternity boys, the cheating one, the breaking up, all posts within the last 2 weeks.

And all this talk about "getting" a husband, makes me feel as if I'm literally hunting. Like I'm an adversary in the single jungle thrashing through swamps of bad dates and stealthily setting traps to ensnare my prey. Undercutting other woman through thickets of hot spots armed with high heels and an arsenal of Cosmo tricks.

And let's be honest, this is looking a little desperate.

SCREW THIS. I'm done. You men can hunt for me.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Weekend Fun

I have a new love. And it's in the form of a pill.

I partied a bit more that I was use to this weekend. I went to Cleveland for my fantasy football draft. And boy did we have a rip roaring good time. We had dinner on a patio then did a little bar hopping. I started with bourbon and coke (which, waaay more expensive in Ohio), then moved onto to 2 pomegranate martinis, and then back to a manhattan. So, also, waaaay more then my two drink happy as well.

When we got to the second place, I kept hearing about how beautiful the bathroom was. And I had to go anyway, so I teeter on down in my heels (which were sparkly and fabulous btw). Upon walking in, I realize it really is the prettiest bathroom I've ever been in. So I do a full 360 turn in my sparkly shoes and say/squeal out loud:

"Oh this is a pretty place!" Failing to realize there were other people in the stalls hearing me talk to myself. (Meh, what do I care, I'm in Cleveland, three drink happy and wearing fabulous shoes.) It was so pretty that I had to take a picture of it:
blurry picture taken with my cell phone.
(blurry due to quality of cell phone camera and also intoxication level of the picture taker)

In case you can't tell what you're looking at, that's a unicorn! The other color blobs are fairies. And then due to my level of inebriation I sent this text to a friend: Im in the prettiest bathroom ive dver sfen. Also im drunkk (misspellings and all). (Sorry dude- apparently I drunk text now. This has FAIL written all over it).

So anyway, the rest of the night was fuzzy except for the puking. Yeah, I was totally parting like it was 2007. I ended up puking by the side of my friend's garage. Meanwhile, as I was doing so, there was a debate if my hair was long enough to hold back so as not to get in my way. Turns out, it's too short to really hold back, but just long enough to still get caught in the crossfire.

Then next day was draft day. I woke up with dragon breath, a sloshy stomach and felt like an elephant was sitting on my forehead. And I did not take this well, so I was whining. My friend Michele asked if I had taken anything for my woes. I'm laying prone on the couch, hand draped over my eyes and say, I would take something, but it has to come to me. (aka, hell no I'm not moving). She leaned over the 3 inches toward the coffee table and places the Excedrin migraine bottle in my hand. Yes, I really was that princessy.

Fifteen minutes, one pill, 4 glasses of water, a cup of coffee and a few (hundred) donut holes later, I was moving around, headache almost gone and ready to draft up a storm. I was about 80% by that point. Though I picked my two running backs and quarter back with the exact same bye week, so, oops. My guess is that I stayed at 80%.

But no matter, I decided the new love is Excedrin migraine. Yes, I'm in love with a pill.

Don't judge

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Are You Ready for Some Football?


I'll let your head stop spinning and you can gather your wits about you before I continue.

Yes, that's right, it's football season, and I'm excited. What? It's a sport with balls and teams. And while I don't play those, I do occasionally enjoy watching them (I'm a big March Madness fan btw). Did I just rock your world of it's axis? The reason I'm excited is because I have my very own fantasy team (and I'm saying this like a proud 6 year old who just got her own bedroom). And, it's a league of all women.

The idea of an all woman league started about 4 years ago. My friends and I were lamenting over being football widows. It was bad enough our guys followed one team religiously and you couldn't change the channel for 2.5 hours on Sunday (when they run the best marathons on VH-1). They all had fantasy teams too, so they had to watch every other game and check every single stat too. I could put up with one football game, but all day? Shoot me.

We were bored. And we also didn't really care. I don't know about the other girls, but I since I had nothing invested in the pigskin sport, I wanted to play with my ex's team for my own amusement at least. But something about not knowing what "off sides" is or not knowing what a running back actually does made him think I "wasn't serious." That and he had something like $500 in this thing and he wasn't going to play someone because yours truly "liked the team colors."

Side story, he offered me in a trade.
He asked his league what do I have to give to get player X?
Another person snarked, "how 'bout your girlfriend?"
I think he considered it. Wouldn't let me play, but apparently I'm play trade worthy.

Anyway, us widows are siting around the kitchen table (probably with wine). And Jeanne says: here's my idea. we get an all ladies league, and the only rule is that you can't ask you're SO for help. Hell yeah I was in.

And voila, here was are at our third year. I made it my personal mission to get a better team them my ex. I'm not really a football widow anymore, but I'm still pretty pumped about it. I've had Romo the past 2 years, and I'm ready for a change. It royally pissed me off that he couldn't play because of his g*ddamn pinky. Yes I'm still bitter about that (what a sissy pants). But I've made it to the playoffs both times. I just happen to go out the 2nd round of it.

Bring it on ladies, let's play some football!

Hey, um, somebody? What's offsides?

Friday, August 21, 2009

Boyfriend checklist

I don't think it's a secret I want to get married, and I would prefer sooner rather than latter. But before I get a husband, I'll need a fiance. And before I get a fiance, I'll need a boyfriend. (this is kind of like If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, only not as long and there aren't 1000 variations) So, I've made a list of what I would like in a boyfriend, because that's what I do (is the phrase "that's what I do" hot right now or is it just me?). Clearly everything on the husband checklist still applies (with the exception of a D or I last name). But these are few things to get started.
So without further ado, my new boyfriend should have:
  1. His own place (a roommate is fine, and I promise to never be the 3rd roommate)
  2. That is clean (I don't want to be afraid to walk around barefoot there)
  3. A penchant for trashy VH-1 shows and food network (this is how we will bond)
  4. A clean car
  5. Makes me laugh and has a sense of humor (well, he just has to find me hysterical)
  6. Must like dogs (Bailey's part of the package now)
  7. A cuddler -but not in a constantly want to get in my pants sort of way (a girl needs a break every now and again).
  8. Have some sort of semblance of timing (at least tell me if you're running late).
  9. An athletic guy, but not too athletic
  10. No man jewelry (A watch is ok)
  11. A good kisser
  12. Preferably no tattoos. (At least not stupid ones)
  13. Puts the seat down all the time (If I have to train another guy to do that I just assume kill him first and save my strength for a different battle)
  14. Owns a suit. Wear it well (I want a good dresser. Shallow? A bit. But shouldn't arm candy have arm candy?)
  15. MUST feed me at regular intervals (cranky Sarah does not put out)
  16. Finds my judging endearing (I can hope)
Oh yes, the ubiquitous nice, charming, gentleman, treats me right qualities still expected as well. Here's to finding!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Fraternity Boys

I've been forbidden from dating frat boys now. It's for my own good really. Yeah, they're typically pretty cute, but they're boys. And frankly, it's not hard to get one. I told a former co worker (who was in a fraternity) I dated a decent amount of frat guys, even though I didn't do the Greek system myself (well, not the social). He asked how did I do so, since they typically mingle with sorority sisters. And I laughed and said: Just go to a party and announce you need a drink. And you guys are easy to get. Christ it's like shooting fish in a barrel! (he laughed because it's true)

I had an ex who got his panties in a twist whenever I called his house a frat. I heard the "you don't call your country a (very bad word for the woman's anatomy), so you don't call your fraternity a frat" too many times from him. My response was along the lines of, then stop acting like stereotypical frat boys and people might not call it that. And then continued to call it a frat just to piss him off (anyone else noticing a spiteful streak in me?)

But anyway, I've been banned from frat guys. And that's a good thing, because a boy in a fraternity is A: a boy. B: too young and C: therefore going to annoy me (plus will be 2 or more of the types of guys I'm over (August 11 post)). Now, I wouldn't discount a guy who was in a fraternity in college. In other words, an alumni. But a guy still in one? Oh hell no.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Default Crush

Is it wrong that whenever I'm single I start crushing on a friend? (hey, does anyone else think it's cute for a grown woman to have a crush? Or is it just creepy?) I've crushed on nearly every guy friend I've had since high school. It rarely develops into a full blow can't stop thinking about him sort of thing, but there's always that hmm, what if... moment I feel. (For a while though in my early 20's I was starting to run out of guy friends (is it ok to recycle crushes?)). However I value my friendships, and I don't want to loose anyone I care about, so I try to not act on my pounce inklings. I know it's a case of single pool apprehension. And if I have a crush on someone, then I don't feel as unsteady I guess. (Though I was never completely out of the single pool w/library guy. We both still had our feet in)

Given my current status, the logical conclusion is: crush on a friend. So I am. And I wonder do I like this guy because I genuinely like him, or because I just want to crush one someone and he's safe? I'm very comfortable around him. He's seen me at some low (fuzzy/slurry) points in my life, and he's also seen me w/out makeup. So I trust him. I'm a little jealous if he talks about other girls, and sometimes I wonder if he talks about me to anyone. And not going to lie, I've been attracted to him from day one.

In theory, it would be great to be with this guy. But the aforementioned just like to like someone makes me think I've simply pushed him into my default crush spot. And even if he was having the same crush-type notions about me, I know for him it's not nearly as complex as I've made it out to be. With guys, it's they like you or they don't (why can't I be that simple?). And fortunately, I'm solidly in the friend zone with this guy and he won't cross that line. (yay and boo at the same time)

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

New Name

So turns out, there's a little glitch in my marry someone in the top-half of the alphabet. I've always intended on taking my husband's name when I got married. Call me old fashioned, but I'm happy to do so. It was just a matter of if I was going to drop my middle or maiden name. (I swear my ex puffed with pride when I told him I was legally taking his name. That made it more real to him maybe?)

In reality I just planed on tacking on the new last name and calling it a day. So legally I would have 4 names (because the hyphen is bull sh*t), but I would sign things with first, maiden and hubby name. (I know it would be easier to just say the actual names, but you're always a google search away, and there are certain people you just don't want reading your life. Course there's the argument I shouldn't write/post anything I don't want some one to read.) I would still have all my names, I just wouldn't say/sign my middle one. Which is what I do now anyway, so I would just have 2 "middle" names I didn't say. Sorta.

Currently, my initials are SAT. Yes, like the test or sat as in past tense of sit. And when I get married my new initials would be ST-top half of the alphabet. But turns out I cannot marry a D or an I. Because then I end up as: STD or STI. (and SAD isn't much better either)

Yeah. Fail

Monday, August 17, 2009

Must Love Dogs

Look how pretty my Bailey is!

Look at that face! I pretty doggie! I pretty doggie!

Turns out my dog is a chick magnet. Guys who like dogs think she's cute too, but it's mostly the women folk that coo over my dog.

Whatever, I don't mind. I find it kind of humorous. It's not like she's hindering my dating prospects. If anything else, she just added a new selection criteria (I've added must love dogs to my new boyfriend checklist- coming soon to a blog near you). But I'm pleased as punch that she's not doing my ex any favors either. After all, he's got a guitar and his band for that (snort. what? I can't be bitter?)

Sunday, August 16, 2009


Flirt: to court triflingly or act amorously without serious intentions; play at love; coquette.(Dictionary. com)

We used to have quote boards in my college house and here's one from yours truly: "I get a lot of sh*t for being a flirt, but I don't care."

Yeah, I know what people say about me. I know I'm a flirt. And sometimes, I don't care if I'm ruffling a few feathers along the way. When I was a bartender, I flirted my ass off with customers and my co-workers (pissed my boyfriend off though). I flirted with co-workers my age when I was on co-op. (I didn't flirt when I worked in maternity though. Because that's trampy, hitting on someone who just had a baby). I'll flirt when I'm the one ordering at the bar. I flirt with my friends (guys and girls on occasion). I flirt with anyone who can get me better service. I flirt with ideas.

The point? I flirt. Almost all the damn time.

And yes, I get in trouble for it. I've tripped over a few lines. I've never gone after another woman's boyfriend (or baby daddy-see above). But I have flirted enough with some that it ended up pissing the girlfriend off. It's also made a lot of my boyfriends not trust me. One said "if anyone's going to cheat in this relationship, it's going to be you." Ouch. I don't remember how much longer we lasted after that. Though instead of reining my ways like I think he hoped, it incensed me and probably encouraged them 10-fold (ha!). (moral of the story: don't get a jackass for a boyfriend)

But even if I am acting a bit coquettish, doesn't mean I'm going to act on it. I flirt for the fun of it. And believe it or not, I do have guys that do not return my sentiments. Besides, what's that saying? Don't hate the player, hate the game.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

I'm on a boat!

Well, yesterday I was. I spent a few sun soaked hours on Lake Cumberland with a friend from high school. I'm a little sunburned in some areas because I didn't reapply my sunblock everywhere until too late. And I forgot my chap stick so my lips a little burned too. But meh, it's not like they're going to get much use anyway for a while.

But I came to the following conclusion:

I definitely need more friends with boats.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Your cheatin' heart

Disclaimer: this is not a confession or about any of my previous relationships

I've always considered cheating (in a relationship) something you can't tell the other person. But that could mean a variance of things. While I wouldn't do anything physical with another person while I'm sleeping with someone else in the first place, I also wouldn't tell my significant other that I outright flirted with someone either (even if it was to get better service). I wouldn't tell my partner either, but is the latter cheating?

In my mind it was harmless to begin with, so no. But I still wouldn't share. I've kissed other guys who were not my boyfriend at the time. And if you go strictly by my definition, then yes I have cheated on boyfriends (ok, so maybe a little confessional and totally about my previous relationships. My bad). That's as far as my torrid history goes. I can soften it by claiming it was before boyfriend and I were using the bf/gf titles, but really, that's splitting hairs. I was in someone's bed so I've made myself exclusive by then.

Obviously these are not shining moments in my life. And I would think twice about it if I'm put in the position again. As far as I know, I've never been cheated on. Well, at least no one has stepped out on me when were officially bf/gf. There probably have been some hook-ups pre"official" decree of exclusivity or break ups. You know, the same bull poop I tried to pull 2 seconds ago, when details were fuzzy. But if I have been cheated on, I don't want to know.

I told one boyfriend that if something ever happened, (for example, someone has too much to drink and boundaries were crossed. I'm no fool, these things happen), and as long as he felt extremely guilty about it, (and he should) and knew it would never ever ever happen again (as it shouldn't), then I didn't want to know. Because it would destroy my trust in him and it might be too hard to get back. But his guilt would be punishment enough.

However, if it happened again, I would kill him. But hey, the first one was free.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Tween Trash

Sometimes, rarely, I flip through a teen magazine before I put it back on the magazine rack at work. Number one, when did teenager-hood become the proper age for skank? (actually there's no proper age). I remember reading Seventeen and learning what to expect my first period, or taking a quiz to find out if I was a good kisser/what type of romantic I was (classic, in case you cared) or do I know how to juggle friendship and a relationship at the same time (I do by the way, I am an awesome friend according to these quizzes). Well now they have things like what kind of birth control do you use, high end fashion that a part time job won't won't help you afford, and diet and exercise plans to look your hottest ever in the clothes you can't afford.

Ok, I admit, I hate teenagers (most of them). They annoy the crap out of me. But I also remember it's a pretty tough age spot to be, and yet they have no idea how care free their life really is. Isn't being a teenager hard enough? Not only are your hormones out of control, you have to look awesome and be sexy at the same time when you have no idea what the hell is going on in the first place? Can this insecurity stuff wait? Though, maybe it's better to get the typical teen problems worked out when you're an actual teenager. Because what's worse: a typical insecure 14-year-old who whines they've never been kissed, or the insecure 23-year-old who whines because they've never been kissed? (The 23-year-old. Because then when you work with them you develop a chronic headache from trying to not roll your eyes every time they speak, you say "I'll tell you when you're older" when every joke goes over their head, and you develop a twitch from constant refrain of kicking them in the shins for saying/doing something so incredibly naive. Trust me on this one)

Another teen mag is Teen Beat, or j14U. Something like that, whatever. And it's always the same teen stars gracing the cover. That's because there are only 3 things that exist in the teen super star world: Twilight, Miley Cyrus, and the Jonas Brothers. And they are only so many actual teen super stars. Everyone else playing teens are in their 20's pretending to be 16 (Robert Pattinson, I'm looking at you-you glittering freak of nature). Every cover promises "kissing details on set," who's hooking up with which Jonas brother, or continuing drama over the Twilight saga (then again, everything about teen angst is a saga). But every 2 months or so, some starlet (usually the most recently dumped by a Jonas brother) inevitably claims, "I'm actually painfully shy."

does this annoy anyone else? If nothing else, I want to shake them and say, well, if you don't like the spotlight, get out. Leave it for the person who wants to be a diva (like J-lo. Woman s'aint exactly a teen, but she's a genuine triple threat, and knows how to get her way).

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Over It

When I first moved back home, I hit the bar scene a like the newly single woman that I was. I was out with a drinking buddy (well, who else do you hit the bar with?) and he mentioned that another friend of his was bartending or playing at the place we were going (I don't remember which. It was a year ago and I've already mentioned I was drinking no?). But anyway, he tells me a lot of girls like this guy and I probably will too, he's got that rock star thing going for him.

I shoot him a look and say "Um, I'm a little over the "rock star" thing."

"Ooh right, yeah, you would be wouldn't you."

But anyway, there are several type's that I'm "over." For starters:
  1. The rock star (well, I'd date an established rock star, but the "up and coming" is bull shit)
  2. The frat boy (I've been forbidden from dating them anyway, even if it is easy to get them. It's like shooting fish in a barrel)
  3. The architect (it would be tough because I did interiors for 6 years and I would judge his taste against mine all the time)
  4. The hard partier guy (I just can't party like a used to. And I don't want to either. Though I still enjoy a rousing game of flip cup)
  5. The man child (grow up peter pan)
  6. The guy who doesn't want to settle down (it's not like I'm demanding the ring after 2 weeks, but I'd like to know if there's a chance so we're not wasting our time. And see above)
  7. Dude with long hair (just ick, I don't want the discuss the difference in conditioners)
  8. Hippies (granted, I was never "into" them. Patchouli is a fail)
  9. The broke guy (those flowers for me are not going to buy themselves)
  10. The super religious dude (there's a reason I try to refrain from dating Catholics-nothing against my catholic friends, but this guy was a high and mighty jack ass and ruined it for me)
  11. The super fan of one sports team (the ex "joked" he wouldn't love me if I got a Raven on my fantasy team. I don't think he was joking)
  12. The pretty boy (well, I just don't want him prettier than me. We can't have two high maintenance people in a relationship now do we? see number 7)

Monday, August 10, 2009


I'm not super religious, but I do respect other faiths. Catholic, Methodist, Hindu, Episcopalian, Jewish, Agnostic, whatever you claim to be, I'll respect your faith as your own. And I think that all the god(s) that these religions believe coexist somehow. It's us humans that go muckle it up and make holy wars. God(s?)'s up there going, dudes, calm down, I'm (we're) fine. And you know sometimes he points and laughs, because I also believe god has a sense of humor (want proof? explain the duckbill platypus).

Me and god, we have an understanding. I have a good head on my shoulders and I formed my own opinions. I do ask for help on occasion. When Bailey had parvo and was fighting to live, I prayed for him to fix her. I begged and bargained with the man upstairs to either save my puppy for me, or end her suffering. And obviously, she's still here (naughty and knee surgeried, but still here), so he kept up his end of the bargain, so I've kept up mine.

But as soon as you start pushing your views on me, we have a problem. That's not what faith is to me. I'm a good person and I have morals. I don't need to go to Sunday service to prove I'm a 'good christian. ' And honestly, the whole "good christian" stance does nothing but annoy and incense me.

First I don't really understand what "being a good christian" is. And why are all the people who are "good christians" such zealots? When did being a good christian usurp being an good person? And since when are they one in same? I think it's utter bull sh*t when a person A of one faith informs person B of a different faith that person B is going to hell because person B doesn't believe in God the exact same way as person A does. Um excuse me, but that's not your job down here. Overstepping the big mans shoes there buddy.

I seriously think God's rolling his eyes and shaking his head, playing shuffle board with Buddha.
(oooh, think I'll get any random "I'll pray for your soul" comments from this post?)

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

When it comes to fighting with boyfriends, I tend to avoid it like the plague. I have broken up with guys in order to avoid a fight before (because that's not pansy at all). And in an even more exasperating action, I seem to do it in a sissy way too. Because of all my breakups, most of them have been through some indirect method or have fizzled out naturally.

I broke up with my first boyfriend in person, and it was very very sad (oh to be 16 again with my first heartbreak). Due to the uber-sad, I've since opted for the more milquetoast route. And its not always me doing the cop-out breaking up. I've been broken up with (dumped just sounds so ouch) over the phone at least 3 times. Though one of those guys didn't really want to break up. Poor AJ, when he said "I think we should see other people," I said "sure, ok" and shrugged my shoulders. I know I didn't cry. I guess I could have tried to sound a little more upset over it huh? Meh, water under the bridge now and I heard he was engaged now, so yay for him!

Another time I broke up with someone over the phone, then proceeded to make out with him the next night, and then refused to return his calls. I can't image why he thought I was crazy (in my defense I was 20 and all 20 year old girls are stupid and crazy in some way). Hmm, wonder whatever happened to him...
I did have "the talk" over AIM once, but we both didn't want anything serious at the time so it was quite amicable. Library Guy and I just had "the talk" over email. We don't want the same type of relationship, so I put the kibosh on the whole thing and no more hooking up (does this even count as breaking up?) all through email.

But yeah, here's the pièce de résistance of break-ups. I officially broke up with my fiance over the phone. Yep. Uh-huh. On the phone. So the most significant breakup of my life, and I tell him to there's no chance for us over our shared cell plan (did the minutes even count?). The in-person maybe we still had a chance talk/hug ubruptly ended with when we started snipping over a pot (it was mine because it had a lid that matched. duh). It was the 2nd to last time I saw him (though I didn't know it at the time), and we argued over a fliping cooking pot (and I looked like ass too, no bitter there).

Well, at least I haven't been dumped/dumped someone through text messaging. Or post it note (Carrie Bradshaw refrence). All this break-up talk is making me sad. Me thinks the bottle of Woodford is calling my name.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Good to be the King

There are a few perks to knowing your manager on a social level (and it doesn't hurt if they think you're cute). When I bartended a few years ago, some of us would "happen" to be at the same place our boss "happened" to be too. This was verboten by company policy. But we're all young and think we're invincible and it was just a "coincidence" anyway.

Well anyway, I knew two managers on a more social level outside of work, and it carried over a bit to our work lives. And don't think it was just me, plenty of us were buddy-buddy with these guys outside of work. And buddy-buddy lets you get away with a few things. Now I didn't do anything like steel money or sleep with my boss. Nothing fire worthy or that would get me arrested. But there are things that I giggle at that I got away with.

One morning the opening manager was singing the Star Spangled Banner but he mixed in America the Beautiful lyrics in the middle of it (wha? I don't get it either). And when he wanted comments on his singing, I shot him a look and said, dude, those are the wrong words.
His retort was "hey aren't you part Japanese or something, what do you know?"

So I sassed back, (hand on hip and waving my long pointy finger at him) "first, I'm half Chinese. And I'm all American you jackass!"

He started cracking up and I know the rest of the staff heard as well.

Another little thing was one night when I was the closing bartender. I was probably only a week away from my last day as well. But it was around 11, so I was hungry and tired (and we know this is ominous in Sarah-world), and I needed chocolate because yes, it was that time too. So to get me through the next hour I swiped one of the birthday brownies (apparently they don't have those anymore. boo) and started to walk back to the bar where the closers were gathered. And knowing (but not caring) I wasn't supposed to have a brownie, as I'm walking back, I shout out the top of my lungs "Kevin! Can I have this brownie that I have every intention of eating any way?"

He said something along the lines of I guess I don't really have a choice, and wisely let me have it (truth, I don't think he wanted to hear me whine). Whatever, I still got the brownie.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Texting: friend or foe?

I blame text messages for the death of my engagement.

Ok not really, it was that he wants to be a rock star but he's never going anywhere anyway and I'm way too awesome to settle for his mediocrity.

But at the end of us, the only communication we sent to each other were snippy text messages (for example: I would like one weekend with my friends that you don't stress me out to the point of tears). Hard to have a heart to heart and a serious discussion about the rest of your lives in 160 characters or less.

But I find it handy for almost everything else. Often a person can't talk on the phone, because they're at work (or on a date and if you answer your phone on a date that's mthr fcking rude). But the receiver can surreptitiously check a message and find out you'll be in town in a few hours or what bar you're meeting up later. Or when you hear about the metro crash in DC and you're worried that your friend might take that train home from work. You can frantically text and ask if she's ok. She texted right back letting me know everyone was fine and I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. Or when you see something hysterical and you just have to snark right this instant. Twitter is great for this btw (also, text speaking instead of full words in unlimited space like email or blogging is annoying, but I really like the btw for some reason).

So super handy at times like those. And it can be a fun way to flirt too. However breaking up via text: pussy.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009


The other night I texted a friend and they were surprised I was back from my "date" already. So I replied: "I'm fairly new at this f*ck buddies thing, but I'm pretty sure they they don't spend the night." While I'm enjoying it for what it is, I've never done this before. How long do these things typically last? And what happens if someone else asks me out? ::snort:: What if I want to say yes?

I'm an exclusive girl, when I start sleeping with someone, that's it for me. And since LG and I are messing around, see above. So it's sort of like an insta-relationship, but w/out the actual tittle or any girlfriend perks (like default passenger seat, auto Saturday night plans or flowers just because (hint hint future boyfriends/husband)). And what do I tell someone if they ask my relationship status?
But then again, who's even asking.

Obviously, f*ck buddies isn't what people expect (and it's an
over share. 'Course this isn't stopping me from blabbing now). We're not really dating in the traditional dinner and a movie sense, so that's out. I could say I'm seeing someone, because we are, and I won't do anything date-like with anyone else (once again, no one's asking). To say I'm sleeping with someone sounds so... blunt. And crass. It's not exactly promiscuous (because it is only one person), but well, it's something along those lines.

You're probably wondering why I'm not having this discussion with him. Because I don't want to put on my big girl pants that's why.

Monday, August 3, 2009

A$$ Tax

Ass tax is the stuff that's left over from your previous relationships. It's the pj pants you refused to give up, the free weights he left on your floor, the book he lent you, the earrings you forgot on his nightstand, ect. And you're either a: too hurt to get them back, b: don't care/forgot about the stuff, or c) a combination of the two.

I don't think I've collected a lot of ass tax myself, nor have I left that many things behind. I may have a tshirt or two and a pair of sweat pants from boyfriends past. And I'm sure I've left trinket jewelry and beauty products along the way. For most of the ex's stuff that got mixed with mine, I threw away or donated (most of his stuff was crap anyway). There were a few that's-mine-no-it's-not-squabbles, but the splitting of stuff could have gone a lot worse. He did try and accuse me of taking a ton of his kitchen stuff. And I snorted back with a "what, a rusty cookie sheet? You can have that back."

Anyway, I think my arm band for my iPod has fallen the by the way of ass tax. I went hunting for it the other day, but I'm pretty sure I unpacked the box it would have been in if I had it. And boo to that, because I have one of the first nano's, so they don't make my particular iPod anymore or it's accessories. So I can't really go out and but a new one either. And it's a little late to be asking him if he's seen it. Besides, I thought it was fairly obvious that whatever left behind or accidentaly taken was as good as gone.

The only exception was the dog. Her I got back ::smile::

Sunday, August 2, 2009


Ok people, why you hating on us light weights? Since when is it a right of passage to be able to drink a 12-pack in 2 hours anyway? Number one, god, the bloating. And two, I'm not an 18-year old frat boy (and boys, what's with the crappy beer too?)

I famously said: "drunk Sarah is fun Sarah!" Because I think I happen to get more charming, better looking, and uproariously funny. When in all actuality, I'm just louder, high pitched and I fall down more. But it doesn't take much to get me there. One drink I'm ok, but it's that second drink... Two sips I'm tipsy (the giggles start here), and there is drunk at the bottom of it (fall down go boom here).

But whatever, it takes me half the time, drinks and money as you seasoned drinkers. And it's not to say I'm not seasoned, I just happen to know my limits, they just don't happen to be super high.

So I can't consume 6 Manhattans in a night. My $15 bar tab feels so inferior to your $50 one. And while I'm having a grand ol' time on drink 2, you're elbowing your way up to the bar for your 4th round, far not as happy as I am.

So joke all you want. Being a lightweight doesn't suck.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Get In Line

I admit I'm not a great matchmaker (they end up being one sided matches, I can get one person interested but not so much the other one). So a few years ago when I got it in my head that 2 single friends/coworkers would be cute together, I meddled a little bit anyway. Neither of them took the bait, and I wasn't able to push them into something I wanted to create for my own personal amusement (oh and their happiness too, yes of course, that was my motivation).

But I meddled regardless. Since I was off the market, I wasn't considered any sort of threat (gee thanks). Everyone at work talked, (and gossip is currency in the restaurant business), so I listened/eavesdropped. It didn't take long to figure out my target guy was one of the top 3 crushed on in the place. So when I was training a new girl behind the bar (turns out TG had a little crush on her), she mentioned her little crush for TG (I wasn't a threat, people told me things). Number one, I wasn't surprised, but more so, I wanted him for my friend (nothing against this girl, she's lovely and fun had a string of admirers herself). And as I've mentioned before, who didn't have a crush on him?

So I chuckled and told her: "get in line."

It wasn't intended maliciously, just more of a heads up sort of deal. But TG and trainee ended up dating each other shortly after I moved, and my intended for friend found herself a boyfriend, so whatever I did was moot. And this is one of TG's favorite funny-things-I've-said-stories about me. And as funny as it was and they all know it wasn't said to be mean, a little part wishes I had mananged to fix my intended two up. Or that someone would say get in line about me (but not in a whorey way).