It's a dead man's party, leave your body at the door

Oh my God, you guys, I totally saw Don Johnson this weekend. Well it was actually Jace dressed up as Don Johnson, but I'm counting it. It was Halloween party extravaganza weekend. Friday was the annual party at my sister's place/my old place. It was the 4th (maybe 5th) and final one. The girls will be moving out in June so we wanted to have one last hurrah. Diane and I dressed up as G.I. Hos. That means camouflage jackets, black miniskirts, fishnets, hooker boots and machine guns. I made us arm bands to help others in identifying who we were:

Original G.I. Joe logo:






My G.I. Ho logo:








I just want to say that I am awesome. I also want to say that it is never, ever good when the day after a party one of the following things is said to you:

1. Hey…and how are you feeling?
2. I can't believe you're up.
3. Did you puke?
4. You won the most hammered award. By a landslide.
5. I've never seen you like that.
6. Someone who was deaf and blind would never have known you were drunk.
7. Do you remember telling someone to take a picture up your skirt?

All of these things were said to me. Several times. By a plethora of people. In my defense, most of Friday was a blur to me so in my mind, I was not that bad. However, I have been having a few flashbacks such as telling Kim I was a pole and letting her dance all over me. Really, though, I think that's more embarrassing for Kim. Yeah so basically I am pleading innocence, and everyone who saw me can just shut their mouth and not tell any stories about me. Thanks.

Saturday was ALoyd's party. Diane, Kim and I went as the Charlie's Angels*. And not the new ones-the old school REAL Charlie's Angels. Diane was Farrah Fawcett. Kim was Jaclyn Smith. And I was "the smart one who never got any action"-Kate Jackson. This kind of mirrors real life except for the part about being smart. Strangely enough, I was not the drunkest person at the party. And despite that I still got to see Woody's light saber. If Bob is reading this I just want to say that your costume is still grossing me out 24 hours later. Well done.

Pictures to come.

*For anyone considering wearing polyester pants for whatever reason I should tell you that a) they trap heat like a bitch (and apparently cold according to my friend Steve who relayed to me a sweet little story about shrinkage) and b) they itch like a mother.

Hi Squirt

I just want to give a shout out to my friend Squirt who lives in Miami and made it through hurricane Wilma without any serious damage (not counting the damage she did to her underpants during the storm). I'm so glad you're okay, Squirt. I was worried, and I don't like being worried. Don't worry about us up here-we're handling the scattered showers and 10mph winds okay (except for the drivers who can't handle rain). My umbrella flipped inside-out the other day, but that's the most damage I have sustained so please stop fretting over how we're holding up during these extremely average weather conditions. I love ya, and I'll see you in January*.

P.S. I accidentally turned left on a red light today.

*Oh that's right-I am going to Miami in January. Oh and on a Carribbean cruise. Eat it, bitches!

Story time

I am low on blog material as I wait for pictures from last night's pumpkin carving party. Yes you heard right. A pumpkin carving party. So since it is almost Halloween and every time I need blog material I go into my "memory box" as my mom calls it, I will treat you all to a Halloween story I wrote when I was in 2nd grade. Remember this is copyrighted so don't try to steal it and create a bestselling children's book out of it. By the way, I am copying it exactly how it is written.

Drackila's Birthday

On Halloween night drackila was thinking. What is so special? he said to himself. He walked back and forth his cape was swinging in the air. While he was thinking he made a potion. The potion was as red as blood. The potion might give his membery back. He was frightened to take the the potion because he might turn into a snake a ghost or a ghoul. But then he rememberd what was so special it was his birthday. Because it was a full moon. And he didn't have to take the potion.
The
End
by Sarah

I have just a few comments:

1. I think I'm going to start using the word "membery".
2. I understand now why punctuation is so important.
3. "The potion was as red as blood." Um...ew? Should I have been put on some sort of future psycho watchlist?
4. All in all a good story for a 7 year old but kind of an anti-climactic ending, don't you think? There's all this build up about this mysterious potion which can do horrible things to you and then oh yeah it was his birthday. The end. I think I will need to beef it up a bit before I send it to the publisher.
5. Does anyone besides 7 year olds use the word "ghoul" anymore?

Sarah is not happy

I was very aggravated today all day. Here are some reasons why:

1. "Lost" is a repeat this week and "The Office" wasn't on tonight. All I have to say about that is WTF.

2. I have asked this question a thousand times, and I will continue to ask it until I get a good answer: Why in the name of all that is holy can't Clevelanders drive when it rains!? Why??? It's like we get a few gray clouds and immediately pop it into 2nd gear for the duration of the day. Yes when it rains you should be more cautious. Perhaps slow down a bit while going around curves. But slowing down 25 mph below the speed limit is the definition of the word "overkill". If you want I can further illustrate that word by punching you 700,000 times in the jaw. P.S. Riding your brakes is ruining them and ruining my day so stop it.

3. Why doesn't the shoe industry make cute shoes that have heels under 5"? All the cutest styles have really high heels, but once you get to the shorter heels that look like they might actually be made for a human foot, it's like hey take a look at our Reject Collection. Shoe industry, my sister and I need your help. 1) We are very tall. We're already taller than 75% of the guys we meet at bars. Please don't make it worse for us by forcing us to wear these shoes that make it so we are eye level with the band playing up on stage. 2) We have really, really bad feet and ankles. Simply put, we are a mess, shoe industry. Torn ligaments (or in Diane's case, no ligaments), cysts, foot surgery, softball injuries, volleyball injuries. Our feet and ankles are weak and swollen. High heels are out of the question for us. I don't want to sound too much like a chick or anything, but well...it just doesn't seem like you like us anymore. I mean maybe I'm reading into things, but you used to surprise us with cute shoes in styles we could wear, and now...I don't know it's like the romance is gone. I mean you don't even make a decent brown sandal anymore. Seriously-what's going on with us?

4. This morning when I got to my floor, I had to find my security badge to open the door. Meanwhile two people were standing on the other side of the door-which is glass and therefore transparent, by the way-just watching me. After a few minutes of searching, I finally got the badge and unlocked the door. Right as I went to open it, I dropped my badge. I quickly bent down and picked it up then realized that part of it was still on the ground. I bent down again to pick that up, and the door locked. I then had to reinsert my security badge to unlock the door again, and then I opened the door to let myself in all while these 2 people were staring at me making no attempts to help. Hey-thanks for the assist on that one, a-holes. Next time I need to find people who can't be bothered to press a button 3 inches from them in order to let in a girl who is clearly struggling, I'll know who to call. Oh by the way, as I walked by you I silently wished that you would both spill coffee in your lap and burn your nether regions. Stupid...effing...douches.

5. I am in no way going to honestly complain about our weather here after seeing what all the states down south have been going through with the hurricanes, but today it was so windy this is literally what I looked like after walking back from lunch:




Luckily my lipstick still looked great.

I promise more Happy Sarah tomorrow. Hopefully. If people learn how to drive in the rain between now and then.

Foreign romance

I just watched "Under the Tuscan Sun"-a movie I love. There's this one part where within 5 minutes of arriving in an Italian city, Diane Lane meets a wickedly hot Italian guy, hops into his convertible, drives with him to some other beachside Italian town and then they have sex.

This is eerily similar to the trip I took with a high school tour group when I was 16. Within 5 minutes of arriving in Strasbourg, France, I was hanging out the room balcony and met some French guys. They were on the street shouting up at me and asking me to come down. I smiled and waved and said I couldn't because it was past curfew. They looked confused, and they probably were because I later found out they thought I was a hooker. Apparently in France if you hang out of your balcony, it's a sign that you're a prostitute.

That is totally the same as having sex with a hot Italian guy.

Breaking news

TomKat is coming to Ohio! This does wonders for improving upon our state's current population of completely effing insane people. Our numbers dipped way low last year, but thanks to Tom and family's pending arrival, experts are predicting 2006 will show a real increase in the number of Ohio residents who are utterly batshit crazy. Welcome, TomKat!

Letters for October 20, 2005

Dear Jennifer,
Thanks for inviting me, my sister and my mom to your mature and grown up Tastefully Simple party. Sorry I momentarily made the event less classy when the salesgirl gave out a sample of that hot butter toffee drink, and I yelled out, "Can I get some rum up in here?" I know that the only ones laughing were Michelle, Diane and I. Coincidentally (or maybe not) I also observed that we were the only ones there that didn't have kids. Oh and sorry for the Amaretto/pound cake jokes that came later. I think maybe I have a problem where if you hand me food, I automatically try to match it up with a type of alcohol.

Dear cashier guy at the grocery store,
Ah-I see you went with the 1-item-per-bag approach to bagging my groceries. The "1-per" if you will. I know that a brick of cream cheese weighs roughly 3 metric tons, but I bet you could still fit in that yogurt that you just put in a bag by itself. At least it's only taking the entire night for me to check out. I can't wait to get home and unload 4700 bags from my trunk. Oh by the way you're a moron, and I am going to rip out your giant fake diamond earring and shove it up your left nostril.

Dear little kid from "Finding Neverland",
You might be the cutest kid in the entire universe. I want to put you in my pocket.

Dear Johnny Depp,
You are hot. I want to put you in my pants. I mean pocket.

Hardhitting interview

I was recently interviewed for a publication. Okay it's Adam's blog, but still. It's my first interview ever so I'm counting it. Check it out. He calls me an American Legend. Did I mention that I heart Adam?

Player

You guys, I totally scored this weekend. I know-I can't believe it either. It was, I'm sad to say, long overdue. And man was it satisfying. All I had to do is open myself up to receive, and then I did. I mean I wasn't expecting to score this weekend, but it happened-right there in front of all my friends.

I got a touchdown.

We won our football game by 31 points, and I got 7 of them. The moment was almost marred when I spiked the ball, and it bounced back up and almost hit me in the face. Thankfully I caught it before any damage was inflicted. Even though I need to work on my spiking skills, I am clearly an awesome football player, and I think it's time for me to renegotiate my contract. If I don't get what I want from Yes, I'm Still Drunk (our football team), I am willing to go free agent next year.

P.S. I formally submit for nomination for the Worst Invention in the World award the yogurt smoothie. Because the only thing worse than eating yogurt is drinking it.

Boo ya!

Hey, B, why don't you BITE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After I post this I'm gonna go fall asleep in the handicap bathroom stall

So I decided that since this is the first weekend in a long time that I really didn't have any plans, I wasn't going to drink at all. That is very responsible and shouldn't be something that's out of the ordinary since I am 28, but let's just forget about that. I guess what I meant by not drinking over the weekend was that I would go out on Thursday to two different happy hours and get smashed out of my gourd and then tell John, Scott, Chris and Julia a lot of personal information that I'm sure they really didn't want to know. Seriously I think we all learned a lot about each other last night-more than any of us ever thought we'd know about each other. Yikes.

Also I went to bed with hiccups and woke up with hiccups.

I am so effing tired. Can someone ask my boss if I can go home? That would be great. Thanks.

P.S. I need your help. Do I like Franz Ferdinand's new song "Do You Want To"? I can't decide. Sometimes I'm like this song totally sucks. Then other times it makes me want to dance around my room. What do you guys think?

Number 5 is alive

The other day at lunch we were talking about "Short Circuit", and I brought up how the Indian guy in the movie is not actually Indian. It's a white guy named Fisher Stevens*.

Apparently I was the only one at the table who knew this information, and it occurred to me that I had never asked my best friend Sudha, who is Indian, what he thought about a white guy playing what can be considered a stereotypical Indian character. Here is our email exchange:

My email to Sudha:
We were discussing "Short Circuit" the other day at lunch. Obviously. And I was saying how the Indian guy in that movie is actually not Indian in real life. It's a white guy. I was saying how I should really ask you some questions about this.
1) Did you know that?
2) How do you feel about a white man playing an Indian man-being Indian yourself (unless you are also being played by a white guy).
Please get back to me with your thoughts on this most pressing matter.

Sudha's response:
This is a question that has plagued mankind for at least the last 5 to 7 minutes. I actually did not know that. But more importantly did you know that #5 was played by a CANADIAN robot?

I love Sudha so much I want to hug him until he is forced to call the police.

*Incidentally, he dated Michelle Pfeiffer for like 5 or 6 years. Seriously, Michelle? I mean you do know what you look like, right?

No Tagbacks

I was tagged by Min Pin Momma. She's all over me.

1. If money were no object, what would you be doing with your life?
Following Dane Cook everywhere he went.

2. Money is just that - an object, so why aren't you doing it?
I have no such object. Also I'm not quite sure what legal ramifications my plan presents.

3. What's better: horses or cows?
What the hell kind of question is this. I guess cows cuz Sarah likes her steak.

4. What do you think the secret to happiness is?
Cherry Coke

5. When was the last time you had a dream that you either remember well or did not want to awake from? Can you share a bit?
I dream every single night, and I remember probably 99% of the dreams I have. They are all effed up. The last dream I had was a couple nights ago when I dreamt I was 9 months pregnant, and I was seriously panicking because I had to raise the baby alone. Then I had the baby, and it was a boy, and he was really cute. I was really scared and really happy all at the same time. It was one of the most realistic dreams I ever had. That is until my friends Kim and Jace were really mad because they wanted partial custody because apparently when I was pregnant I said I needed their help raising the baby. Then we all went to Mexico, and I hid the baby in a bathroom stall until they left me alone-which, come to think of it, may be my natural motherly instinct coming through in my subconscious because I'm fairly certain that the proper way to protect your child from danger is to hide him or her in a bathroom stall in Mexico.

6. When you were a little kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Kirk Cameron's girlfriend. Now that I am grown up I want to be…Kirk Cameron's girlfriend. I mean who are we kidding here.

7. Complete this statement: Love is...
Never having to say "I'm sorry…I'm moving to Baltimore."

8. Can you tell a good story? (write one!)
People read this blog so I guess I can write an okay story. Here's one for you: "Once upon a time there was a normal girl who started dating a midget from outerspace and then became weird and got pregnant with his alien spawn thereby virtually assuring the end of existence upon its birth. The End.*"
*Not based on a true story. Any similarities to actual events or people is purely coincidental.

9. Can you remember your last daydream? What was it about?
I daydream constantly. Today's was that Danielle, John and I won the lottery and bought a golf cart and got really drunk and drove up and down John's street while drinking daiquiris.

10. If you were to thank someone today, who would you thank?
I would thank NBC for giving me "The Office" because I almost soiled myself 75 times during tonight's episode.

I'm not tagging anyone because I can't tell who likes being tagged and who hates it. I don't know-I guess some people need to be taken out to dinner first.

Apologies

To my Dad: I'm sorry that I forgot to mention in my post about sealing my deck that the night before the sealing you power washed my entire deck and patio furniture and back of my house and who knows what else because you are obsessed with power washing. Also sorry for laughing while you were being nice and hanging up that picture above my bed because you kept losing your balance and almost falling off the bed and taking Mom with you. P.S. Thanks for putting up the picture!

To Steph: I'm actually not sorry that in a silent auction to help charity you bid on a Pamper For Him basket that included many prizes for men and then won it. You can blame me all you want for not outbidding you-you are the one who bid in the first place on a prize that made no sense for you to bid on. Seriously I can't believe you won. That is awesome.

To Drew: Sorry your girlfriend (my baby sister) scored more touchdowns than you on Saturday. Don't feel too bad, though, because did you see that on Friday she inadvertently wore shoulder pads?

To the tank top I bought only a couple weeks ago: I'm sorry that on Friday I allowed myself to be written on over pretty much the entire upper half of my body with pen and Crayola marker thereby covering you in pen and Crayola marker. You are new and didn't deserve it. If it makes you feel any better, I woke up the next morning, looked in the mirror and totally freaked out because I had forgotten about all of it. Especially the one that said "Jace Matt was here". What?

P.S. I never wrote this back in September, but HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MOM AND DAD!!!

Age appropriate

Malley's Chocolates throws these parties for little kids. Each kid gets a party hat, a noisemaker and a sucker. Then the birthday boy or girl picks the kind of cake they want, and the staff brings it out with candles lit so everyone can sing "Happy Birthday". Each child at the party gets to pick which kind of ice cream they want, and everyone gets a slice of cake and a scoop of ice cream.

Somehow my sister and Steph convinced Malley's to let us throw this party for Steph's birthday on Wednesday. I walked up to Malley's a few minutes late ready to celebrate Steph's 28th birthday. This is the sign I saw when I walked up:



Oh really! Really, Steph! What did you have to do to convince them to do that, I wonder?

I walked in and as I turned the corner, I saw eleven adults-all of whom are nearing 30-wearing these:



And blowing these:



It was just about the funniest thing I've ever seen. And the truth is, immediately I was like, "Where's my hat. I want a goddamn hat!" God I love being old and secure and no longer caring what anybody thinks of me.

By the way, I was only there for 30 minutes and had nothing to drink except a glass of water yet somehow there is a picture of me with two party hats over my boobs singing "Open Your Heart To Me".

Yo homes, smell ya later!

We usually eat lunch at Tower City which-for those not from Cleveland-is a mall. Every day after we finish eating we walk down to this little store that sells candy and lottery tickets and hosiery for black women only. Today was no different. However, when we walked out of the store, I noticed something a little...funky. Actually it wasn't a little funky. It was pure funk. It was the smell of body funk. I turned to Erik and Scott, "Do you guys smell that? That's B.O., right?" They wrinkled their noses. "Uh...yes it is," they said. Figuring it would go away in a few seconds, I continued to breathe normally.

A couple minutes later, I turned to the guys again, "It's still here, right? I'm not crazy-it still smells like B.O.?" They confirmed that I was not crazy. It did indeed still smell. My eyes began to water, and I decided to breathe through my mouth.

A minute later, "Seriously-what the hell going on in here? Is that from a human?" At this point we were incapable of carrying on a conversation about anything besides the rancid B.O. We had walked through half of the lower level of the mall, and not only was the smell still there, it's power had not even diminished. Scott felt sure we were slowly triangulating the position of the source. And he was right. It was not more than a few seconds later that the smell physically reached up and slapped me in the face*. I looked up and quickly saw the source. As I was about to warn Erik who was slightly ahead of us, he turned back to talk to us. "So we--AH!!" The smell had slapped him in the face as well, and I actually saw his head jerk back violently.

The source of the smell was a few feet ahead of us heading toward the escalators. Luckily there was an alternate route. We could cross under the escalators past Original Cookie and out the other side. This route poses a risk as there is always a high probability I will stop and buy cookies. But I didn't have a choice. I was literally suffocating right in front of Panera, and I was not going to go out like that. "Go! Go! Go!" we all yelled and ran by the Original Cookie. When we got to the other side, the air was clear, but we weren't out of the woods yet. We had to get to the escalator before the smell did.

From our new vantage point, we got a clearer look at the offender. It was a very large woman wearing a giant t-shirt and no pants. Seriously she didn't have pants on. She was also wearing only one shoe. The other one she was carrying in her hands along with roughly 27 million shopping bags. She was moving at a slow but steady pace carefully dispersing her poison evenly throughout the mall. We hopped onto the escalator in enough time to avoid the stank.

Scott posed the question, "Just how many showers do you have to miss until you reach that point?" I'm no scientist, but I think the answer is "a whole effing lot of effing showers holy shit for the love of God what just happened I never thought I would be so happy to be breathing in downtown Cleveland air". At least that is what was going through my mind. Scott said that the B.O. Scale must be like the Richter Scale where each number indicates an increase in magnitude by the power of 10. So 8 is 10 times more powerful than 7. We hypothesized that most people reside between 0 and 1 on the B.O. Scale, and this lady was at a 9.9. The highest recorded level of B.O. in the world.

I feel like I need to take a shower again because I'm pretty sure it's still on me.

*Scott would later say that if we had that moment on tape and we played it in slow motion, you could probably see my cheek moving as if being slapped by some invisible force. Okay not just some invisible force. The force of body odor manifesting itself in physical form.

I'm an ass and there are pictures to prove it

I was going through pictures last night looking for some good ones for my collage frames, and I came across these pictures from when a huge group of us went up to the Post-Gazette Pavilion in Pittsburgh to see Jimmy Buffet. There is one picture in particular that caught my eye that will never be making it into any collage ever. Let me explain. I am not a Jimmy Buffet fan. I really don't like his music besides "Margaritaville" and that song about the cheeseburger. But I am a huge fan of Jimmy Buffet concerts. If you have never been, you really should make an effort to go. Buffet fans are CRAZY. I've never seen a group of drunker people ever.

I just want to mention that I love watching concerts at the Post-Gazette Pavilion. They let you in really early to tailgate, and the cops don't give a rat's behind about people drinking. They only care that you're not using cans or bottles. In fact they drive around handing out plastic cups. How awesome is that!?

Anyway, nobody tailgates like Buffet fans. When we went we did the usual tailgating behavior: cooked some burgers, drank some alcohol, played some Flip Cup, took pictures of a paper parrot in some questionable poses. The entire week before the concert, the entire drive to the concert and the entire day leading up to the concert, Gerbs kept talking about how he had a first aid kit in his car. See, the year before when we went there for Poison, my sister broke her foot (more on that another day) so Gerbs was convinced we needed a first aid kit. He was so proud of himself for bringing it. I told him if he mentioned the phrase "first aid kit" again I would smack him.

Toward the end of tailgating when we were getting ready to pack up and go, I decided, quite logically, that I would ram people with my head-you know just to see what would happen. It's possible I was slightly inebriated and may have just woken up after passing out while in the middle of sipping a drink through a straw. Anyway, I decided to run full force into Al to try and knock him over. I backed up, got a running start and slammed into Al...who didn't even move an inch. Unfortunately for me, the laws of physics meant that since Al didn't move, I did. I fell backwards-hard. I landed on my ass and sat there laughing for a while. Someone immediately took a picture and then I started feeling some stinging on my legs. "My leg stings," I said. I heard Gerbs shout, "I'll get the first aid kit!" Then all the guys ran over to help me up. They were semi-freaking out, and I was like, "Whoa, my babies, it's okay. I just fell." Turns out I didn't just fall. I fell into a pile of hot, burning coals. They had just been dumped out of the grill we were using to make hamburgers.

By the time I got up, Gerbs was standing there with his First Aid kit. He looked so excited. I could tell he was looking for damage to my body so he could use some gauze or something. "Too bad, Gerbs! I'm fine!", I said, still laughing like the moronic drunk girl I was. Then Renee said, "Holy shit what is wrong with your hand?" I looked, "Ooh that looks bad" I said. I had landed with almost all of my weight (and that's a lot) onto my left hand. It was bleeding and actually had little rocks stuck in it. It sounds grosser than it looked. Just kidding-it was totally disgusting. Gerbs immediately handed the first aid kit to someone else. "Hey-I bought the damn thing. That's as helpful as I get. You guys do it." Thanks, Gerbs.

Seven girls immediately swarmed around my hand and starting cleaning it and picking out rocks. They kept telling me to try and concentrate on something else so I wouldn't feel the pain, but I was too busy trying to kick my friend Mike and steal his potato chips to even notice that I had a hand. I ended up having to wear these big bandages on my hand for a week, and my leg was a little burnt, but whatever. Someone somewhere has a picture of me sitting in a pile of coals wearing a visor that lights up and a t-shirt that says "Get leid island style" with both hands over my head doing the "I love you"/"[80's band] fucking rocks!" hand signal. That's worth a little pain.

My weekend

Friday we went to a very expensive restaurant for Meg's birthday. I had a $30 steak and got creeped out by the waiters, but the sangria was flowing, the steak was awesome, there was a guy with the same hairstyle as Diane and Steph did the sprinkler inside the fancy restaurant for all to see. We went back to Meg's apartment and drank wine, sang and watched the Indians almost win and then lose to the GODDAMN MOTHEREFFING WHITE SOX. Then I was unexpectedly sidelined by a massive migraine and had to leave.

Saturday after we almost won then lost football, I sealed my deck. How very homeownerish of me! For anyone wondering, sealing your deck is very easy. Just follow these simple steps:

1. Stand out on your driveway for two hours waiting for the cable guy while your mom seals your deck.

Voila! Your deck is now protected from the elements! By the way, to my cable/internet company: I'm watching you. Sleep with one eye open. Seriously.

Saturday night we went to Danielle's new house where she has approximately 17 rooms and 3 chairs spread throughout all of them. It was a good time, though, as I drank wine and listened to her XM radio and then her iPod Nano. Oh that reminds me-can someone buy me an iPod Nano? That would be great. Thanks.

Today I did a whole lot of nothing. Then my parents came over and my mom made us lasagna, and I died and went to heaven. Seriously her lasagna is the best ON THE ENTIRE PLANET so don't even act like your mom's is better because it's not. I will fight you.

I will leave you with two things.

1 - I have decided I will be taking Dane Cook as my lawfully wedded husband. We will be together forever and have lots and lots of babies. We are in love.

2 - Here is a picture of my Henry getting ready to lick my face off: