Tips for avoiding The Train dance at a wedding

1. Be aware of your surroundings. The Train can start at any time and not just to that annoying train song. In addition, keep in mind that it is not restricted to the dance floor. It feels free to move among the non-dance floor area of the room. Keep your eyes open.

2. Try to remain at least 6 feet away from The Train at all times. If you are closer than 6 feet to The Train, you are in the red zone, and the chances of you being sucked in are very high.




Note: not drawn to scale










Remember: the edge of the red zone is fluid. It's not a straight line, but rather it moves with the curve of The Train.

3. Head to the bar. If The Train passes you and tries to suck you in, you can point to the bar and say, "As soon as I get a drink!" No one will want to get in the way of you getting alcohol because it makes everyone sad when someone's glass is empty. This will buy you enough time to proceed to number 4.

4. Hide behind my friend Brian. He is there to protect you. Ignore his loud and unyielding laughter. Allow me to demonstrate:













Good luck and Godspeed.

I'm pretty sure Shop Dungarees was part of the marketing team that named this

I totally owe you guys a post about the awesome wedding this past weekend, but I am sleepy so this will have to do for now. I found this is in my purse Sunday morning. I don't remember taking it from the hotel bar, but I do remember Diane and I giggling like junior high boys at the name.














Now that I have my wits about me and am looking at this through the eyes of a completely sober 30 year old woman...it still makes me laugh like a junior high boy. Come on-Hard Creamer? I haven't looked because you never know when the FBI will come and take your computer and go through all the sites you've visited and then tell your mom about it, but I'd bet money that this is also the name of a porn actor and/or movie.

Oh God. A memory of me, Drew and someone else doing the robot-on video-at Kim and Kevin's wedding just came screaming back to me. Oh dear Lord. I need a Hard Creamer.

News break

Welcome to Okay Seriously, apparently your #1 source for all penis injury stories. Today's installation: "Woman sets fire to ex-husband's penis"

Okay I don't even have one of those, and this is so awful it made mine hurt just thinking about it. I like how they just casually mention that he was watching TV completely naked while drinking vodka. Like that's totally normal for someone who's not me. I will say that this does reinforce my unfair stereotype that all Russians drink vodka constantly.

In other news, holy fucking shit. I was just telling Hot Vendor Guy that I love when someone is named something for a reason. For example, B's father gave him his first and middle name after two legendary baseball players, and I once met a Rhiannon whose parents named her after the Fleetwood Mac song. But this thing has the creepiest reason for being named something ever. "We call her Blinky because all four eyes blink at the same time." Ga-gew. This is probably why I won't sleep tonight.

One more thing from the are you effing serious news items today:

"Rapper Kanye West has paid tribute to Justin Timberlake as the only othercontemporary musician as influential as him, and claims the pair are themodern day equivalent of Prince and Michael Jackson. West admits he oweshis success to Timberlake. He tells the upcoming October issue of Americanmagazine XXL, "My biggest inspiration and biggest competition is JustinTimberlake. He's the only other person that gets an across-the-board response and respect level - black radio, white radio. If Justin hadn'tcome out and killed the game, I can't say that my album, singles and videoswould be on the same level that they're on. We push each other. I look at me and Justin like Prince and Michael Jackson in their day.""

What world is Kanye West living in that he thinks he matters this much? Not that my feelings on hip hop are really what should be used to measure the accuracy of this type of claim because, let's face it, if it doesn't have Nate Dogg or Nelly in it the chances of me listening to it drop by like 50%. But seriously I don't know if I've seen a bigger example of an overinflated ego in my life. It's not like he is me, someone who is single-handedly revolutionizing the face of blogging using semi-amusing stories and MS Paint.

In case you were wondering

Things I don't have time for:
1. Local (senile) weathermen who (wear diapers and) when talking about the hurricane in the Carribbean say things like, "A lot of bananas are going to banana heaven tonight."

2. People with bumper stickers that say "Ask me about my grandcats". No. No I won't. I'm much too busy jabbing myself in the eye with this sharpened pencil.

Things I do have time for:
1. You guys. You all are coming to Put in Bay with me next year. I can tell you are all drunk assholes like me underneath your classy exterior. So let's do this. I'm sure Steph will convince someone to create a 30 person golf cart by that time, and then you can experience the hand signals for yourself.

2. This story. Ho. Ly. Shit. It's like I was just sitting here thinking about what was missing from my life and all of a sudden the clouds parted and a ray of light shone down on the Yahoo! Most Popular News headlines and I see this: "British dwarf's penis gets stuck to hoover" and suddenly I was whole again.

Put it in your Bay

I took a verbal lashing tonight for not having posted about Put in Bay yet. From people who were there. Explain that to me. Okay you guys asked for it so here's a warning: this is going to be loooong.

Diane and Meg took their cars over to the island on the ferry. There was definitely nothing annoying about when Diane was the last person to fit on the ferry, and we had to wait for the next one. I called Diane immediately when I realized we weren't getting on, and when she picked up all I heard was laughter. Five minutes later I got a text message that said, "How's the mainland?" My reply was a picture of Meg and Sharda giving the middle finger.

Once we finally got to the island, we pulled up to our rental house and noticed a huge pool of water in the street in front of it and slowly creeping down the driveway and trickling toward the house. We really didn't think much of it. Note: This is like in the movies when they do a close up of something you think is totally random but it ends up being important later on in the movie like in "The Sixth Sense" when they show how Bruce Willis can't get into the basement because the door's locked and you're like 'so the eff what' but then at the end it all makes sense. Basically what I'm saying is, we'll come back to the water.

The drinking began roughly 30 seconds after we got in the house and soon we were uptown (downtown?) at a bar where the bartenders know Kim and were very sad to hear she was getting married. Diane asked one of them to make her a fruity drink that didn't have pineapple juice in it, and he gave us a 007, and then I died and went to heaven. Seriously, you guys, if you haven't had one of these, you should get up out of your chair right now, march down to the nearest bar and order one. Orange vodka, orange juice and 7-up [Ed. note: I changed this from Sprite which is what I originally wrote down and apparently Johnny Virgil is a Mr. Smarty Pants and couldn't deal with me substituting Sprite for 7-up. So what if that made it a 00S, JV!]. So simple. So perfect. And what a cool name. Over the weekend I would end up drinking about 27 of these.

Friday night was filled with much dancing and drinking. It was also filled with some guy who was about 45, unnaturally tan, wearing a shiny outfit, dark sunglasses (it was midnight), a fedora and carrying a cane-no medical purpose readily apparent. Renee asked him if she could limbo under his cane, and he held it out for her and Kim to limbo under. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, but it was real and it was terrific.

Also at this bar these two guys came up and started dancing with us. And surprisingly, not in a creepy way. They were just fun. One of them came up to dance with me and was like, "It's not hard to spot the fun one in the group." And I was like, "Damn straight." Then he went to buy me a drink, and I was pretty sure that I had just been singled out for being the drunkest asshole there, but hey-free drink. Bring it.

I should tell you that at this point, my sister was carrying two buckets around with her. She had stolen them from a previous bar that sold beer in buckets. Why did she steal them? Well, when we go tailgating at football games, the bathroom lines are ridiculous. So the boys bought a pee tent and put a gallon milk jug inside it. Ladies, have you ever tried to pee into a gallon milk jug? It's-how can I put this delicately-a big urine-soaked mess. So Diane stole the buckets purely for peeing purposes. This is the conversation she had with one of the guys dancing with us:

Guy: Why do you have those buckets?
Diane: They're pissbuckets. For tailgating.
Guy: [blank stare]
Diane: I like football.
Guy: Oh.
Me, to my sister only: Did you just say 'I like football?' What? That guy probably thinks you're a lesbian.

10 minutes pass.

Diane, to guy: I'm not a lesbian.
Guy, putting a reassuring hand on Diane's shoulder: It's okay.
Diane: No really I'm not.
Guy: I'm a lesbian.

I think I love that guy. I also love Kim's sister for getting a ticket for public urination. Yeah that's right. She said it was the most expensive piss she's ever taken. I just used a word for "pee" 8 times in the last 3 paragraphs. I never talk about pee (9) this much. Unless it's lunchtime and I'm in a public place.

When we got back to the house Friday night Diane, Renee and I literally could not stop dancing. It was physically impossible for me to stop my body from moving and go to bed. Everyone around us went to bed and slept through our performance, but I know in my heart that we looked really, really good. I saw evidence of it the next morning when I looked at pictures Diane took of me dancing an inch away from Meg's sleeping face. Sorry Meg. At least I didn't put my ass in your face like Renee did.

Saturday I woke up to some commotion. Through a series of events I still don't fully understand, Steph and Meg had gotten up early to go to get coffee and came back with an 8 person golf cart. That is just something that happens when you are friends with Steph and Meg. Suddenly you have a golf cart. We piled onto the cart to go to lunch, and I have to say it was maybe one of the best things I've ever done on that island. We moved so slow it was ridiculous. I could've gotten out and jogged faster, and I'm someone who only runs when she is being chased by a knife-wielding maniac which has happened, oh, never times. The turn signal on the cart was broken so every time we had to turn, Steph made us do the hand signals:
















Then when we had to park, there were a couple times when we had to go in reverse, and she made us beep. Nine women in their late twenties/early thirties beeping. Now that's class.

As usual we went to the winery during the day and within about 30 minutes it was clear none of us were going to be sober for the rest of the day. We played bachelorette games there, and we made all these people take pictures with Kim. Also I just want to mention here that Diane was really mean and made me sit in the sun the whole time because according to her my "tan lines are really weird". Here you be the judge:










It's not that bad, right? But I listened to her anyways because I have to be in a bridesmaid dress in 2 weeks, and I really don't want people staring at me because I have a weird tan. I want them staring at me because I just did a shot while shoving cake down the best man's pants.

Let me tell you something about Kim. She has a nice booty. It's a fact. And she likes to shake it. We have been calling her Sweet Booty for like 8 years now. So for Saturday night, Anita had t-shirts made for all of us:















The back of Kim's said "President". Awesome. Then we dressed her all up in penises and garters and boas and took her out.

Highlights:
- This band
- Sharda spit Jello all over my face. Does that count as wrestling in Jello?
- Our special guest, Peter Pecker, showed up for the night. You might remember him from the bus accident a few months ago. It was nice to see him and to know he recovered okay. Incidentally, Peter is the closest thing I have to a boyfriend at this point. Like I've seen him more regularly in the past few months than any other man. That is the saddest sentence I have ever written.
- Kim walking up to the window of a bar that was playing "Proud to be an American" and saluting. Then immediately yelling, "Whatever-stick your ass out and shake it!!"

Lowlights:
- I went to the restroom when "C'mon N' Ride the Train" came on-obviously-and when I came out, after giving a high five to a stranger, I got sucked into a train by Meg and Diane. 'Dear Lord', I thought. 'Who's leading this nonsense?' It was Renee. I instantly cursed the person whose idea this was. Turns out it was my sister's. Et tu, Diane?

The water: I said we would come back to this. Well over the course of the weekend, the water running towards the house grew in both quantity and nastiness. It started to take on a brown hue and was cloudy in its consistency. On Sunday morning, we walked outside to pack up the car and were slapped in the face by a stench so godawful we actually had to go inside to get fresh air. It physically hurt to be outside it was so bad. It was sewage, people. Not a puddle of harmless water. But sewage. Diane kept screaming the words "fecal matter". I'm not sure if she was forming complete sentences or not because I was too busy holding a can of Lysol wipes as close to my nose as the laws of science and nature would allow. Let me tell you-"In sewage" should never be a reply you give to the question "So where'd you stay this weekend?"

Kimmy, congratulations! I'm so excited for your wedding. As a member of the wedding party I promise to try to represent you well and with dignity. Stop laughing.

Put in Bay rules! Whoo-hoo! Just kidding-this post isn't about that yet

I totally owe you guys a Put in Bay post, but I seriously haven't been home enough all week to do anything but sleep here. I promise I will post that soon. Listen you have to wait for genius. It's not like I just sit here and write everything out like a stream of consciousness. It takes planning and storyboarding and-you're not buying this are you. Obviously I write out everything in a stream of consciousness. If you were ever wondering, I write exactly how I talk.

Unfortunately, it is late, and I am tired and I have to get up early to go slave for the man so I have nothing to tell you except that apparently there are these two women in my neighborhood who are about 60 years old, weigh roughly 300 pounds and are twins. They were walking around wearing matching hats that looked like this:













My sister saw them stop at my neighbors' house and one waited at the end of the driveway while the other one walked into my neighbors' garage and through something away in their garbage can. WTF? How is that in any way appropriate, biker hat twins? Wait that's not a fair question-obviously you aren't the leading experts on what's appropriate based upon your choice of headgear.

When I told my parents about it my dad was like, "So that's you and your sister in 30 years." Dammit Dad. The sad thing is he's right. We just need to get hats. I'm thinking something along these lines:

Ice Ice Baby

My grandma told me she had an ice bucket she was getting rid of and asked if I would like it. I said yes. Then this arrived:




















That's 100% of the purest plastic-made-to-look-like-wood available. When my parents brought it over my mom was laughing so hard she was crying. I thought it was an urn at first. But then my dad pointed out the matching cups:













Grandma, I love you so much but 1975 called and wants its ice bucket back.

Yes I'm still here

This news headline made me pee: "Firm sees big impact from enlarging condoms". I don't think they're the only ones who'll be seeing a "big impact".

I just heard the garbage truck and realized I never put out my trash last night so I ran downstairs and took it out to the curb right in the nick of time. The garbage truck was at the house next to me, and I gave them a thumbs up. I went back inside like, 'I am awesome' until I looked down and realized I was wearing a tank top, no bra and Eeyore shorts.

Please tell me you've seen this commercial. Holy crap I cannot get over how awesome these kids are. Dear Lord, how many tickets do I need to win a kid like this? Because, if I have to, I will quit my job in order to devote my life to Skee-ball to get one.

Hey do you think there's a special place in hell for people who insinuate that God hands out children based on how many Skee-ball tickets you win at Dave and Buster's?

I am currently getting ready to head up to Put in Bay for a bachelorette party. If you don't know what Put in Bay is, please go here and here. I'm letting you guys know now so you can all be waiting by the phone for my inevitable call asking you for bail money.

Krusty's 2007 is my new lover

So I know you're all wondering. Could Krusty's have been at all as awesome last year? And the answer is a resounding...

HELL YES.

I'm telling you what, Clevelanders, if you missed it, you are a giant loserface. It's the best party in Cleveland and at only $40-which goes to charity-it's a steal. What are you thinking not going? I better see your ass there next year.

When we walked up to the entrance, I got all nervous and sweaty because I was 100% sure there was no way I was on that VIP list. I had taken out a bunch of money to just pay at the door since I pictured it going like this:

Me, wearing a "Free Paris" t-shirt, carrying a chihuahua and refusing to make eye contact: "Excuse me, worker, where's the VIP entrance? I'm on the list."

Person taking tickets: "No you're not. That will be $50."

Me: "Can you hold my chihuahua while I get out my wallet?"

Instead what happened was closer to this:

Diane, as we're walking up to the entrance: "Now be cool, Sarah. None of this weak shit like, 'Pardon me, I was told, if you please, that it's possible my name might be on some list, but I mean I don't know I can pay.' You have to act like VIP dammit."

Me, sweating and wondering how Diane knew exactly what I was planning to say: "Uh..."

Meg: "Our friend's on the VIP list!!"

Me, as they pull out the clipboard and begin to flip through the pages searching for my name: "I don't know. They said I was on a list. Someone named Tony."

Steph, right before I just decided to give them money because I was clearly not on the list: "It's the VIP list."

Workers: "Oh! The VIP list!" They flip to the back. "Yes here you are. Oh-you're the expert blogger."

Me, beet red: "Yes that's me."

Me, in my head: 'OMG all these people read about how I stole Blo-Pops and drank in the cab last year.'

All in all, it was amazing being a VIP for the first time ever. Roughly 5 minutes after we got into the party, I was announcing how much better I was than everyone. I also told my friends that they were my entourage, and I gave them all jobs.

Diane - personal assistant
Steph - manager
Sharda - publicist
Meg - stylist
Matt - driver
Drew - Turtle, from the show "Entourage"

Once again we spent all day in the PERFECT weather drinking and playing games and meeting new people. And then the dancing. Oh the dancing. The band was great, and they played fantastic music. At one point we lost Matt and Drew, and then we heard Drew singing. They were up by the stage singing with the band. Shortly after that our friend Lindsay gave us all candy cigarettes, which, okay what year is it? Didn't they stop making those in the 80's? No matter, we all faked smoked them, and then I put the pack in my tank top sleeve to simulate greasers from the 50's/60's. Thinking back, that might not have come across. It may have just looked like I had mental deficiencies.

Drew met more guys than us single ladies which is very sad, but the kid's a charmer. It's just how he works so it was okay. He made fun of a kid in line for wearing Crocs and ended up making friends with him. Then it turned out his new friend was my old friend from high school with whom, along with his brothers, you'll remember I spent the day dancing at last year's party. You see, people? It's like a little Krusty's family. And it's so fun that once you go, you can't not go. You are changed.

Diane, Drew and I attempted to play volleyball on the sand courts this year. Hey guess how good someone who is below average at playing volleyball while sober and on a level surface is at playing it wasted and on sand? Not good, you guys. So I decided to be the ref. Really all that entailed was me calling in or out on shots that were completely obviously in or out and drinking Bacardi Breezers that I stored in my skirt pockets. It's a sweet gig if you can get it.

During the game one of the guys on the other team turned to two of his friends who were girls who were walking around and playing as one player (awesome) and he shushed them and goes, "Stop. We're actually trying to win here." So Diane kicked sand on him. Holy crap I almost peed my pants right there. Then Sharda walked over and within a span of about 30 seconds she decided that one of the guys playing with us was pretty cute, then not cute at all, then she announced that she was done with him and then she left. It was amazing. Later on I watched Steph play giant frisbee with strangers and hit people in the head over and over.

When it was time to go, I sat down in my chair and whined. I didn't want to leave. Diane took on the tone that moms get when they are speaking to their kid who refuses to get off the mall floor. "Sarah, it's time to go. I know you want to stay, but it is 9pm, and it is closing. Get up and follow me to the car."

Obviously we hopped in a cab and went directly to the after party at the bar because you know after the show it's the after party and after the party it's the hotel lobby. In this case, though, there was no hotel lobby. Just the bar where other friends came out and met us and then Diane's house.

Guess what I did at the bar? I tied a cherry stem into a knot in my mouth. Twice. I have never done that before. Get in line, fellas!

I took a bunch of pictures, but not until we got in the cab. And let me tell you-they are horrible. It's like I freaked out because I realized I never took any pictures at the actual party so I just started pointing the camera and clicking without giving anyone any warning or even waiting for them to do something funny. Here is the best one I took:














Obviously this is in the cab ride to the bar, and obviously it's Meg and me. Steph was so mortified that we were breaking the law in her presence she couldn't even look at us.

Another thing we did at the bar: played Spin the Bottle. What's up, 6th grade?

Steph met a boy she really liked, and they decided they wanted to go out on a date and they were both so happy, and he dropped her off at home only she was so drunk she forgot to give him her number. Listen up dude named John (I think) who talked to Steph about Billy Joel amongst other things at Merry Arts in Lakewood: contact me if you want to talk to Steph! Steph, don't worry I will have a screening process in place for anyone commenting who claims to be this guy. It will include a rigorous question and answer process wherein I ask: Is your name John? Speaking of Steph, she has an awesome post about Krusty's, and it seems like maybe she remembers more than me. By the way, friends who were with me, how in the fuck did I miss naked firemen!?

By the time we left the bar, I was experiencing a rare phenomenon: the same day hangover headache while simultaneously still being totally hammered. It was surreal, and when Diane made us walk home from the bar, I was quite sure my night would end with me in jail because the police found me passed out in a tree lawn mumbling about Taco Bell. But alas, Matt made sure I did not lie down and take a nap on the way to the house. Thanks, Matt. Oh also Matt was trashed and spent the 15 minute walk home re-evaluating his life.

The next morning my feet were black because I thought it was a great idea to dance around at the party with no shoes on. Also it looked like a blind monkey put my sunscreen on. I was blotchy and red in random patches all over my chest, arms and back. And my right knee was bright lobster red. Yeah just the right one. I know what you're thinking and you're right-I am hot.

Dear Tony and the rest of the Krusty's crew: Bless you wonderful people. You run literally the best day in Cleveland. Thank you for letting me get in for free. It was so unnecessary and so amazing. I felt really guilty so I bought a t-shirt. Also I didn't steal any Blo-Pops this time. But I did steal like 40 pieces of Dubble Bubble. And when I got home, 9 moist towelettes fell out of my pockets. Sorry. Seriously...Best. Day. Ever. I will so see you next year. I LOVE YOU GUYS!!

I have writer's block

I just found this picture on my camera:














This is the couch my grandparents' had in their living room for 20 or 30 years. I call it the Sex Couch because it's so obviously a prop from a cheesy 1970's porn. It's currently in my sister's basement. My grandma was so disappointed that Diane didn't put it in the living room. I wonder how disappointed she would be if she knew I called it the Sex Couch.

Listen up, Clevelanders! Saturday is the Krusty's Summer Sauce Camp party. You may remember me talking about this last year. It's an all day party that benefits charity. It's all you can eat and drink and was basically the greatest day of my whole life. Go out and get your tickets so you can join in the mayhem.

Speaking of the Krusty party, check this out. Somehow the event coordinator for it found my blog post about last year's party and commented on it. I emailed him and guess what? Okay Seriously is currently on the VIP list and will be getting in for free! Holy shit! Having a blog finally paid off! Does this mean I am a celebrity? I think so. I must turn into an asshole at once. I will begin by going to a charity event and not paying to get in so that the charity doesn't get my money. I will follow that up with rehab and possibly a sex tape. Here's a preview:














P.S. Wow "The View" is really taking a chance breaking form and hiring a man.

P.P.S. If you listen closely to the lyrics of the chorus to "Don't Cry Out Loud" by Melissa Manchester, she's really not giving very sound advice.