Saturday, April 30, 2005
So my mom says we will try to find a cyber cafe. I have heard of these mythical places but have never actually seen one since I spend most of my free time in bars or passed out on tree lawns (This only applies to daytime hours. At night I am passed out in the Applebee's bathroom-obviously). If I happen to find one of these magical cyber cafes, I will post something, and the 6 of you that read this will rejoice*.
Have a good week in your respective non-Vegas towns. I will be by the pool chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool**. Later, bitches.
*Does anybody really rejoice anymore? I don't think they've done that since Jesus came to town. We should really start rejoicing more.
**If you know what this is from, I will give you 100 points.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
On Saturday I am going to Las Vegas. My dad has a conference out there so my mom, sister, Drew and I are tagging along. Incidentally, in Spanish "Las Vegas" means "a whale's vagina". Wait...no that's San Diego. Anyway, I have been going there at least once a year since I graduated from college. I believe this means I am qualified to dispense advice about it. Here I offer you up some helpful tips to enhance your Vegas experience:
- Establish yourself as a high roller early by asking the dealer to lower the minimum bet from $10 to $5.
- While seated at a table, casually knock over your completely full drink so it spills all over the table and everyone's chips and cards.
- If you see a woman who looks like a hooker, chances are that she is, in fact, either a hooker or my sister.
- Make sure you dress nice when you are playing slots because if you hit kind of big a siren and/or bell will ring out, a light will start flashing, a song will start playing and the sound of coins dropping will be louder than all of this and people will stare at you. They will. They will walk up right behind you and stare so help me God.
- If you are sitting at a table gambling and drinking all night, and you suddenly realize it's 5am, congratulations-you are awesome. Go get some breakfast, play slots for 3 more hours, go back to your room, puke, put on your bathing suit, go out to the pool and pass out.
- If you are nervous about betting a lot of money, have a few more drinks. Eventually you will be calling the chips "tokens", and you will forget that they have monetary value.
- Always double down on 11 goddamn you. And for the love of God, split your 8's.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
1. No focus or concentration at work (this is a barely noticeable difference from my normal "work self")
2. Puffy eyes which I know sounds kind of hot but is actually quite unattractive.
3. Build up of credit card debt due to those damn infomercials.
I think it's about time someone discussed infomercials. Like Jay Leno with Donald Trump's hair, I am brave enough to be the first person ever to make fun of them.
Seriously, not to get Seinfeld on you, but what is the deal with infomercials? Some crazy inventor guy comes up with something nobody needs, finds the cheesiest person within a 40 mile radius to be his sidekick then tapes himself and the Cheese using it and marveling at its stain-fighting powers or how fast it will make you rich or how to "Set it and forget it!"
But that is not even the problem. The problem is that I want to buy this stuff. All of it. Sunday night I spent a good half hour talking myself down from buying a steam cleaner.
It starts out innocent enough. "Oh my gosh look at this loser. Yeah I'm sure it's worth it to spend $100 on a steam cleaner when I can just buy Tilex for $4 at Target. Jesus-that doesn't even count as soap scum!"
Then slowly you feel the resistance melting away. "Wow-it really does seem to be cutting through all the grime in the tile. Comet doesn't do that." Then they hit you with the price, and you start resisting again until they change it from 4 payments of $29.99 to 3 payments of $29.99. THEY CUT ONE WHOLE PAYMENT!
Then the kicker: the free stuff. Not only will you get the Super Miraculous Dirt Busting Steam Cleaner Sent to Earth by the Lord Himself, but you will also get the free brush nozzle attachment, special cleaning fluid, video instructions and a special mini version for your car. At that point I'm on the Internet entering in my credit card information.
Thankfully on Sunday, disaster was averted...almost. I am still looking into some makeup that I saw on TV. It is way too expensive, but you get a free makeup bag. Listen-they had before and after pictures. I cannot resist those-I am only human. And armed with plastic.
“President George W. Bush met with Prince Abdullah today. Apparently he was confused. He thought he was meeting with Paula Abdul.”
This “joke” completely deflated me…took the wind out of my sails…left me feeling empty inside. But just when I thought I couldn’t feel lower, he brought out this one:
“A woman in Richland, Washington was so upset with her haircut, she held up the hair salon and shot out her hairdresser’s car windows. You think that’s unbelievable? Even more unbelievable than that is that Donald Trump’s hairdresser has never been shot at.”
Get it, you guys? Donald Trump has funny hair. Ahahahaha! Jay Leno is nothing if not completely original.
Goddammit. I will seek out every single person who earnestly laughed at these “jokes”, and I will karate chop them in the head.
Both of these “jokes” completely drained my will to live…and blog. However, it is only fueled by pure anger that I am able to write this small, yet important letter:
Dear lady waiting for the elevator today,
I already pressed the fucking button. You can tell because it is lit up. That is usually your first clue. And no-elevators don’t have sensors that make it so the elevator right in front of you is the one that opens. That one opened because someone else was getting off of it on this floor. Seriously stop talking about how the elevators have sensors. It’s been going on 8 floors now, and your friend clearly wants you to shut the hell up—as do the 3 other people on this elevator. How did you even get a job here? You must not have mentioned your elevator sensor theory in your interview. You are lucky this is my floor. I was about to jump across the elevator and scream “Sensor THIS!” while I delivered a swift quick to your sternum. Anyway, don’t talk anymore.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
I turned 16 in December of my sophomore year of high school. I didn't get my driver's license, however, until 4 months later because my mom made me take driver's ed through the high school. This means that I had to take it the second semester of that year because you couldn't take it before you were 16. The class was once a week for like 3 months. Even though I was older than my friends, we all got our licenses about the same time because they got to take the quickie 2 week course. Surely 12 years later I am still not bitter about this, right? Wrong. Thanks a lot, Mom. Hmm...maybe you will have to just wait a couple extra years to have grandchildren, huh?
Anyway, it turns out that the driver's ed class through the high school was, shall we say, substandard-that is if my driving record of the first 8 months that I had my license is any indication. I won't go into detail about everything here seeing as there are a few incidents that I need to keep on the DL for a very specific reason (my parents don't know about them), but suffice it to say that within the first 8 months of legally driving, I had upwards of 6 "incidents". And by "incidents" I mean that collisions took place with either a stationary or moving object.
It is the first of these incidents that I will describe to you today. Five days after I got my driver's license I was picking up my friends Squirt and Kim in my parents' sweet ass minivan. I got to Squirt's, honked the minivan horn and waited for them to come out. They jumped in, I blasted "Two Princes" and backed out of the driveway.
What......the fuck.......was that.
Oh I'll tell you what it was--I had just backed into a parked car. Instinctively I turned off the radio so I could think straight. I pulled back into Squirt's driveway and started freaking out. "Who the hell parks their car directly behind a driveway in the suburbs!?", I was yelling, obviously missing the point of what had just happened--that I was 16 and a shitty teenage driver. I had no idea what to do. Squirt and Kim were no help. We were all just standing there staring at the car I just hit.
A plan was born, however, when we realized that a) there was no damage to the minivan and b) no one else was outside except for Squirt's brother Bobby and his friend Bobby. They were 11 and 12, respectively. I was so scared of what my parents were going to do to me that all sense of right and wrong completely fell by the wayside. It was all about survival. And I was not going down without a fight. I approached the Bobbys and asked them if they saw what had just happened. Bobby #1 said, "Uh...yeah....duh-you totally just slammed into that other car. That was awesome!" Signaling to him that his commentary was not needed (by saying, "Shut it, Bobby!"), I told the young boys that if they didn't tell anyone what happened, I would buy them ice cream. They happily agreed.
Look I am not proud of this. First of all, I bribed little kids thereby assuring that they would also get in trouble. Secondly, all I offered them was a lousy ice cream cone. These kids were saving my ass from certain death by lecture, and all I could offer them was ice cream? That was a low moment for me, but really it should be for them, too, because I can't believe they agreed to that. Come on, guys, you had me by the virtual balls-you could have taken me for more than just ice cream.
Anyway, after I bribed the Bobbys, I left. We got back in the van, and I drove away. Yes-I did a hit and run because I am a horrible person. And I would feel more guilty about it if one of Squirt's neighbors hadn't watched the whole thing from inside his house and then told on me to Squirt's mom who then told on me to my parents. Luckily the lady whose car I hit was very understanding as her 16 year old niece had done THE EXACT SAME THING less than a month earlier to someone else. She actually was laughing about it with my parents. To the lady I hit, I just want to say you effing rule. I'm sorry I backed into your car and left, but thanks for being so cool. Also quit parking directly behind driveways.
As for me, I had to pay my parents back for the $1100 in damages I caused, I was grounded for a month*, and I had to apologize to the Bobbys, Squirt's mom and the other Bobby's parents. That was by far the worst part of the punishment. I've never been more humiliated. If I ever have kids I am absolutely using this technique because holy crap it worked on me. I never wanted to do anything that would put me in that position again.
As for Squirt's brother Bobby, apparently after his mother found out from the neighbor about the accident she asked him about it, and he wouldn't tell her anything for over 5 hours. FIVE HOURS!! I saw him over this past Christmas for the first time in about 10 years, and the first thing he said to me was, "Hey, you never bought me my ice cream goddammit. What gives?" Seriously how much does that kid love ice cream?
*My month of being grounded happened to fall at the same time as Spring Break so for 2 of the 4 weekends of my grounding, I was on a Carribbean cruise with my family. And my parents counted it! Best...grounding...ever! Mom, I take back what I said about putting off giving you grandchildren. In fact, I am pregnant right now**.
**Note to those wondering: this is not true unless the rules of how you actually get pregnant have changed to include eating frozen yogurt and watching Home and Garden Television.
Friday, April 22, 2005
However, this is Hollywood so there is no way this will last very long, and when it ends I fully expect Ben to come running to me as I am his chosen one, and we are meant to be. I am the obvious choice over Jennifer Garner. Don't believe me? Check this out.
Things I have that Jennifer Garner doesn't have:
- Fat Roll
- 2 bedroom apartment with no air conditioning
- A job at a financial services institution
- Credit card debt
- Def Leppard t-shirt
- Absolutely no martial arts skills whatsoever
- Varicose veins
- Almost all the seasons of "Friends"
- A 36" television (beat that, Garner)
- A car that's rear windshield wiper is stuck straight up
- "The Goonies" on VHS and DVD
P.S. On a completely unrelated note, last night I saw an ad on ABC for "Sweet Home Alabama". They're going to be airing it on Sunday or something only this is how they advertised it: "Grey's Anatomy's Patrick Dempsey and Boston Legal's Candice Bergen and Rhona Mitra...with Reese Witherspoon in "Sweet Home Alabama"!" Are you kidding me? The movie IS Reese Witherspoon, and she gets a lousy "with Reese Witherspoon" after spouting off those three names? I know they are trying to point out that actors from two of their shows are in the movie, but honestly-that is horrible. Plus Rhona Mitra was in the movie for maybe 3 and a half minutes. Oh and there was no mention of Josh Lucas-the other lead. Nice, ABC. You whore. (I still love you, though).
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
The Mega Millions jackpot is up to $205 million. John, Danielle, Scott and I bought 20 tickets, and we are going to split the pot. TWENTY tickets, people. Obviously winning is inevitable. I was thinking that when we win, I will probably have a "Pretty Woman" moment and send B a picture of my newly liposuctioned body in a bikini lounging in my new Olympic-sized heated swimming pool surrounded by cash and Ben Affleck* and holding a strawberry daiquiri with a little drink umbrella in it. Then I will sign the picture: "Hope you're enjoying living with your parents! Love, Sarah".**
*For the right price, Ben Affleck will definitely pose for a picture with me. He's a little bit of a whore, but I still love him.
**Sorry to sound bitter and vindictive. It may have something to do with the fact that I am both bitter and vindictive.***
***One way to cure bitterness is to win one-fourth of $205 million I'm pretty sure. Are you listening, lottery people? You hold my emotional well-being in your hands. Get your act together and on Friday-show me the right balls.****
****Ha ha-I said "balls".*****
*****Is this getting annoying yet?
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
One night in the emergency room and subsequent gall bladder removal after insurance: $980.47
Grossing out my sister by showing her my scars: priceless
There are some things money can’t buy. For emergency surgery, there’s insurance, my savings and my 2004 tax return.
Monday, April 18, 2005
I watched a movie the other day where someone was talking about how wonderful their first kiss was, and it got me thinking about my first real kiss and how it was the complete opposite of wonderful. I am going to tell you this story even though it really isn’t that good, but you are going to read it because you are trying to avoid work right now. I want to be a part of that.
Since a very early age, I have always loved boys. My mom said that she knew from the time I was very young that there was no way I was gay. I think what she was really trying to say is "Why the hell is my preschooler a total slut?" I was the little girl who chased boys around and made them kiss me. Then I would tell them I was going to marry them. In kindergarten I used to trick this one little boy, Brian, into kissing me all the time. I would make bets with him that I knew I couldn't lose and say, "Okay if I win, you have to kiss me." He really didn't want to kiss me, yet he never caught on to the game. Man-five year olds are dumb. Except me, obviously.
But my first real kiss (read: tongue action) didn't happen until I was 13. It was with a boy I was "going with". I will call him Lenny. We started going steady the summer after 7th grade. Lenny’s father was my sister’s softball coach that summer, and he used to go watch the games. I thought he was really cute, but I didn’t know him other than his name. He was a year younger than me so we weren’t at the same school yet. The day I first met him, my friend Kori slept over. While I ran upstairs to get food she looked Lenny up in the phone book, called him and said, “Hey-my friend Sarah was the girl at the softball game today. Do you want to go out with her?” He said yes. Seriously what the hell is wrong with 7th graders. That is the lamest way ever to start a relationship.
At any rate Lenny and I lasted for about a month and a half which in junior high years is like…2 months or something. One day I went to Cedar Point with my friends. My friend’s mother drove us home to her house, and Lenny and his friend who I’ll call Billy were waiting there for me. I had about a 10-15 minute walk home, and they wanted to go with me since Billy lived in my neighborhood. They were on their bikes.
The minute we started walking home I knew this was going to be it. I was going to have to kiss him. I was so nervous. I mean, I had kissed boys before but never like THAT. I had a bunch of boyfriends before him, too, but those relationships mostly just consisted of passing notes after science class and giggling when we saw each other in the halls.
At any rate, we got to Billy’s street, and Lenny pulled up next to me on his bicycle. It was go time.
Let me set the scene for you:
- Middle of the afternoon in 85 degree heat and bright sun
- Lenny was on his bike
- I was standing next to him
- We were literally in the middle of the street
- A steady stream of cars were passing us-and honking
- Billy was staring at us saying, “Just come on. Get it over with, Lenny. My mom said I have to be home by 4.”
- I was wearing a Bart Simpson tank top
In a word: magical
I took a deep breath and dove in. When it was over I yelled, “Bye!” and ran home like a total loser. I had so many emotions. I was excited that it was over with but I was also a little disappointed. Why didn’t I get goosebumps? Was it supposed to be that slobbery? How come Billy wouldn’t go away? Was that Mr. Martin that drove by and honked right as it was happening?
About 10 minutes after I got home Lenny called me to ask me “how it was”. (It was clearly his first kiss, too). I replied that it was very “public”. Then Billy yelled in the background, “She had her eyes open the whole time!” Then I said, “Two months ago I overheard Billy say that he liked the New Kids on the Block.” That was the last out of Billy.
Eventually I got over the disappointment (next day) and totally made out with Lenny in my driveway. But seriously….what a crappy first kiss. Thank God I didn’t let it deter me from pursuing my dream of becoming a professional whore.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
"I will punch you in the mouth Will Ferrell"
"Pitchers of Jesse McCartney shirtless"
I'm not sure what bothers me the most about the last one--the fact that someone actually wants to see Jesse McCartney shirtless or the fact that the searcher wrote "pitchers" instead of "pictures".
Friday, April 15, 2005
"parallax tremont ohio menu"
"how to fold notes"
"evangeline lilly body muscles"
"my wife and kids Season 5 - Episode 16 - The Bahamas Part 2"
Sorry, Google searchers. Especially that last one. I wonder what you must have been thinking when you pulled up my blog.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
- Matthew McConnaughey
- Sit ups
- Using the condoms that are in my nightstand
- Performing my duties at work
- Cooking meals more complicated than fish sticks
- Caring who wins “The Apprentice”
- Starting forest fires
- Reading instead of watching TV
- Wishing Kurt Russell wasn’t totally awesome
- Wearing half shirts
- Writing love letters to Scott Peterson
- Crack cocaine
- Being tan
- Practicing medicine out of my apartment
- Voting for Scott Savol to win American Idol and/or Pope
NOTE: I have been doing absolutely none of these. Except writing to Scott Peterson. I am really lonely.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
You guys, we need to discuss an alarming development happening in our world today that could rock the foundation of our daily lives. Of course I am referring to the resurgence of bermuda shorts.
My questions on this specifically are as follows:
1. What the hell?
I don't understand. Can someone explain it to me? Were the designers just sitting around one day like, "Hey-remember "jams"? Those were ridiculous. Let's bring them back and see if anyone will buy them."? Are people seeing them in the store and thinking, "Hey you know what I don't have? Shorts in the most unflattering cut available. These are only $24.50. I'll take 'em!"
I thought maybe if you had gross legs, it would be something that would appeal to you, but then I remembered-I have gross legs*, and I would never buy them. I know a couple of friends of mine have expressed interest in them, and I just want to say to those people: quit embarassing me.
Do any of you have these shorts? If so, please explain their attraction and then explain what the hell is wrong with you. I can't seem to wrap my brain around it. Maybe it's because I'm still trying to understand the poncho phenomenon.
*Seriously my legs are not attractive (unless you are attracted to varicose veins in which case you are really sick but I will still date you).
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Monday, April 11, 2005
Dear taxi who was parked on the side of the street on St. Clair,
I'm sorry that I got too close to you today and hit you with my side mirror. I realize you were parked and I was moving, and I take full responsibility. If it makes you feel any better my mirror folded like a cheap hooker who just got punched in the stomach (100 points to the person who can tell me what that's from).
Dear people who were driving a crappy white pickup in Lakewood this morning,
If you got cut off because someone in a green SUV turned in front of you, I'm sorry. But seriously slow down when you see me turning in front of you. Don't you know I am late for work?
Dear lady who felt the need to jam herself into the elevator even though it was at full capacity and then when we stopped at my floor, and I said "Excuse me" and you just stared at which floor we were on instead of moving your ass,
Next time you do that--in fact the next time ANYONE does that--I will either a) literally pick you up and move you, b) elbow you in the ribcage or c) all of the above. Don't test me.
Happy Birthday! Goddamn you are old. But you still got it. And by "it" I mean the ability to do yardwork thus rendering yourself immobile for the next week and a half because you threw out your back. I love you! Can I borrow $20?
Dear Fat Roll,
We've had some good times. I loved getting drunk at parties and making you talk to people ("Feed me! Feed me!"). I've treasured the hearty laughs we've had in dressing rooms when we tried on clothes that were way too tight. But the time has come for us to part ways. You see, I did some spring cleaning on my closet yesterday, and I realized that every single thing that I tried on would look really good if only you were gone. I'm sorry. I know how much this must hurt. But I also know that someday you'll find someone to be with who really deserves you-like Paris Hilton or Tara Reid. As far as dividing up our stuff, you can take my ass, and I'll keep my boobs. I think that's fair. Thanks for the memories, Fat Roll. You'll be in my heart...but not hanging over my pants.
Friday, April 08, 2005
The other night a friend of mine told another friend that my blog did not discuss news and current events. Clearly this person missed my top-notch reporting on the Jen and Brad breakup, however, I thought maybe today I could prove that I am, in fact, capable of discussing the things that affect our world.
Here is a list of news and current events with intelligent commentary:
1. My friends Gerbs and Shannon are getting a dog tonight. It is a schnoodle.
Intelligent Commentary: A schnoodle is a dog that has a Schnauzer for a mom and a Poodle for a dad. My one friend and I were discussing this--extremely intelligently--and both of us said that we didn't even know there was such a thing as a male Poodle. If there are male Poodles they are obviously gay. But I guess if you lock those two dogs in a room long enough eventually the Poodle's like, "Hey-I have needs. I'll just close my eyes and call you Gary."
2. I went down to the cafeteria this morning to buy some cereal, but all they had left was Special K.
3. When I was in college my (male) accounting professor got arrested for soliciting an undercover (male) cop for oral sex in one of the men's bathrooms. To be fair, he was not the only professor at our school who was participating in this kind of activity. That is why the police were working undercover. They had received reports that this was happening with increasing frequency in this particular bathroom. It wouldn't have been quite as big of a scandal for my teacher had he not been married and had his daughter not been attending our school. Anyway, I just saw him downstairs in the lobby of the hotel next door.
IC: I have no idea what he is doing in Cleveland, but it freaked me out. I almost yelled out, "You like accounting and anonymous sex with men!"
I think these are the only things going on in the world right now, but I will continue to report important stories as they come in because I know I am your number one news source.
P.S. Did you guys know Terry Schiavo died? I'm surprised we haven't heard or read anything about it in the news. I guess the media figured intruding on such a private family matter would be in poor taste. Well done, media! Way to hold yourself to a high moral standard!
Thursday, April 07, 2005
P.S. If anyone needs an extra contact case, let me know. The guy gave me 8 of them. I'm not even exaggerating. If you want one I'll autograph it for you and send it out. What-my autograph's gotta be worth like 3 cents on eBay.
P.P.S. How gross is that post title. Seriously.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Anyway, after perusing my collection of literary greatness, I was able to create a guide for those wishing to emulate my 8th grade writing style in some of their business communications.
u = you
2 = to, too
4 = for
R = are
heart symbol = love
sooo = so
cuz = because (I still use this one)
wuz + up arrow = what's up
rulz = rules
sike = sike (some things never change)
Important words should be underlined 17 times. In the sentence "Jason is hot", the important word is 'hot'. Therefore it should be underlined (fig. 1A). You could also just do a squiggle pattern underneath the word (fig. 1B).
Another way to give importance to a word is to write it in all caps (fig. 1C).
And lastly all sentences of great importance should end in no less than 4 exclamation points. So putting all these elements together, the properly written sentence would look like this:
The signature portion of the letter should contain two things: a smiley face somewhere in your name and some sort of clever sign-off. Here is a list of examples you can use (examples appear in bold):
Translation: Best Friends Forever
Translation: Gotta go
Translation: Write back soon
I heart Jason
Translation: I love Jason, you love Dave
Translation: I envy you for you are a cutie.
- Mention a boy you like every other sentence.
- If possible, use a four colored pen and make every letter a different color.
- Fold your note as creatively as possible. The point is to make it almost impossible for the other person to open.
- Use your note as a platform to discuss the issues by making bold political statements such as writing "Peace" with a peace symbol next to it or "I HATE war!!!" (remember to underline "HATE")
- Keep a countdown of important events coming up and remind the reader where you are in the countdown. For example, "Only 1 month and 20 days until Vanilla Ice!!"
Monday, April 04, 2005
- Jay Leno's monologues
- Coke with Lime
- Russell Crowe
- Any kind of pot pie (i.e., chicken pot pie, turkey pot pie, etc.)
- James Van Der Beek
- Men who talk about working out all the time
- Men who wear way-too-tight shirts
- Screech from "Saved by the Bell"
I know I will take a lot of crap for that last one, but you guys seriously--he is horrible. He is the reason I couldn't watch the show. Every time he said anything, I wanted to punch him in the neck. He was just so excruciatingly not funny. Here are a couple of examples taken from imdb.com:
Mr. Belding: Class, this is my brother... Rod Belding.
Screech: Wow. A building with two Beldings, one of whom is balding.
Mr. Belding: Screech, you can't elope.
Screech: Who're you calling a cantaloupe, you melon head?
Just come on. Don't even tell me that doesn't make you feel homicidal.