I passed out on the couch and am super sleepy and don't feel good, but I promise show recaps/discussion are coming. Obviously I will work on them while I'm at work. All I have to say is re: Grey's, Izzie's a bitch and a flake and re: The Office, YAY!!! I am squealing with delight. For so many reasons. Also I had no idea how much I missed Creed. I mean I really, really didn't. (SPOILER ALERT) Um, he's 82. Okay that's for real all I'm saying for right now. I love you, television.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
In keeping up with my apparent oath to bring you all penis-related news items, some chick almost cut off her husband's member in Malaysia. Perhaps what's most shocking about this particular news item is the file photo Reuters used as part of the story. Are you effing kidding me? That is a picture of someone cutting raw meat, yes? Holy crap it is both disturbing and hilarious that that's the picture they chose. When it first came up I totally freaked the eff out not knowing exactly what it was. For a split second I thought, "How did they get a picture of THAT?" Thankfully they used good taste and just went with a picture of someone cutting up meat that people would soon be eating.
In other news, I'm 30 and I love Gossip Girl.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Saturday my friends and I came up with the best blog post idea ever. I was going to follow my friends around all day/night and write down all the funny quotes I overheard and put them all into one blog post. That lasted for about 10 minutes as I, shockingly, got way too drunk and started having D&Ms all over the party we were at. (D&Ms is Aloyd's term for "Deep and Meaningfuls" as in deep and meaningful conversations. But honestly how deep and meaningful can a conversation be about your favorite candy bar.)
I also got too busy listening to my friend Mike drunkenly explain to his girlfriend and Sharda, who grew up on cul de sacs, why people who grew up on cul de sacs were not well adjusted*. "It doesn't even have an end. You just keep going around and around." This conversation brought me to tears. Especially when he called them "cul de ball sacs".
So here is all I can present to you as far as quotes for the day:
"It's not about the ride. It's about the finish." - Drew, grossing me out by subsequently putting his arm around my sister and saying, "Yeah! You know!"
"You like married women. I like balls." - Steph to Aloyd
"The Blo Pop is 2/3 blo, 1/3 pop." - Aloyd
"I go after ribs." - Andy, Paul's 9 year old son after someone pointed out to him that his face was covered in barbecue sauce.
Clearly we were off to a good start. I'm sorry I couldn't finish the job. If it helps I was wearing a visor that lights up.
*Mike called Sharda the next day to assure her she was well adjusted which really just makes the whole thing funnier.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Did you know it's National Unmarried and Single Americans week? You didn't? Maybe that's because that's the lamest thing you could ever celebrate. Seriously WTF? I don't need a week to remind me that I have no one to cook for me or kill the spiders.
Here's an article about it written by a slightly bitter chick who just broke up with her boyfriend and with whom, honestly, I would like to hang out. Of course this "holiday" week was invented by people in Ohio. Jesus H., Ohio, what are you doing. You're embarassing me.
The best part of the article are the quotes by a dating expert*:
"This week single people are finally given permission to actually get out and enjoy themselves," the expert explained.
You guys, I'm finally allowed to have fun this week! Thank God. I have been sitting at home doing nothing all year as evidenced by this blog. And now I can finally cut loose. Any suggestions on how to have fun, expert?
"Get a good night's sleep, hang out with friends, or go for a great haircut."
Easy, expert! Let's not get crazy here. I still have to get up and work tomorrow LOL wink wink! (Doesn't that expert seem like someone who would use LOL and wink wink in an email?)
Anyway this is clearly all nonsense. I don't need a week to celebrate the great things about being single as that is what I do every single day of my life-obviously. But I do think we should all get together and get haircuts. However, we should try to be done by 9pm so we can get a good night's sleep.
*How exactly does one become a dating expert? Is "dating expert" code for "slut"?
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
1. You pee into a bucket inside a little tent with all your friends standing outside of it talking to you.
2. You yell at 12 year olds for having no manners and tell them that if their football comes anywhere near you again you will throw it in the pee bucket.
3. While walking to the game, you let strangers drink some of your drink. Strangers who you're pretty sure are not 21 yet thereby making you a criminal.
4. Also while walking to the game you look across the street to yell at Meg and walk directly into a parking meter**.
5. You, a person who hates beer with everything inside you and hasn't had a drop in 11 years, drinks beer at the game because you are so wasted and don't want it to end ever and your sister is a really bad influence.
6. After sitting in the sun all day, you have a football helmet shaped tan line on your face-the result of an ill conceived plan that involved putting a fake tattoo on your right cheek.
7. The people who lived down the street from you growing up and babysat you everyday after elementary school end up sitting 2 seats down from you, and as they are passing you beer from the vendor your sister says, "Hey, Mrs. B, this is just like when you used to give us alcohol when we were at your house, remember?" Okay that's more of a sign that your sister is drunk.
*Hell yeah, Browns! Best game ever!
**For real I walked directly into a parking meter. Left boob took the biggest hit with the left side of my jaw taking a secondary hit. I didn't really know what happened till it was over, and Jen was peeing her pants. Seriously she peed in her pants a little. The best part about it-besides the guys behind us telling me it was the best thing that's ever happened to them-is that my sister was laughing so hard that literally 3 seconds later she walked into a parking meter head first.
I love tailgating.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Tonight I did something for which I am very proud of myself. I went to a step class. Big deal, right? Well it is for me. This is the first exercise class I have ever taken. I never wanted to even try them before because they scared me. It's all organized and it looks like dancing and the condensation that used to build up on the windows which was from people's sweat freaked me out.
My sister and friends were always like, "Oh I LOVE the classes! They're sooo fun!" And I always called bullshit and refused to try it claiming that "it wasn't my scene" and "I preferred to do my own thing" (eat McDonald's on my couch). Well, that is not entirely true. There is a real reason why I would never even try it.
When I was a senior in high school, I tried out for the high school musical. There was a singing audition, an acting audition and ...a dance audition. I nailed the singing audition. They told me I had the perfect voice for one of the leads. Next came the acting. I admit I have no acting talent whatsoever, but no one does in high school, and I did a passable job and they said I did fine.
Then came the dance audition.
They brought in this lady to choreograph the play and for the audition, she was going to show us one part of the play where the leads and the chorus were doing some light dance moves. So everyone got into a line, she taught us the steps one by one and then we put it all together. You guys, I can shake my booty in anyone's face, obviously, but I cannot do organized dances. It was a complete and utter disaster. I was so bad that she kept yelling out my name to tell me what to do next because I would be 10 steps late and going the wrong direction. Then in the middle of the song, she stopped the music and said, "Okay, um...Sarah? Why don't you take a seat and just watch the others do this." Holy shit. She booted me halfway through the audition. And in front of all my friends. It was horrible, and because of it I ended up not being in the play but rather playing in the pit orchestra (playing my clarinet).
It's 12 years later, and I am still not over the trauma of that moment.
So what does that have to do with an aerobics class? Um, have you ever watched those classes? It's like organized choreography. It's the same exact effing thing as trying out for that godforsaken musical and even thinking about doing a class made me want to run home, put on a flannel, listen to Gin Blossoms and cry to my Jonathan Brandis poster.
But my goal lately is to make some life changes-be responsible for my own happiness and all that jazz (we'll come back to this at a later date)-and one of those changes is working out. I joined the rec near my house, and Diane encouraged me to try a class and said she would do it with me. I finally decided to show my high school self that I wasn't completely useless when it came to organized kind-of-choreographed moves. And what I found out is that I'm still completely useless.
Just kidding. I actually did okay. I can't do all the hand moves yet, and when I try I look like a retarded monkey. So I stuck to the footwork to start. I'd give myself, as a newbie, a B-/C+. But anything that slightly resembled a dance move was, of course, a disaster. Also there were things she called cheerleader moves that I was horrible at. There is a reason I was not a cheerleader. Actually there are about a hundred reasons why I wasn't a cheerleader not the least of which is that I thought I would get way more guys if I was in the pep band instead. Guys at sporting events are all about the band chicks.
The great thing about this particular class was that there were only like 8 people in it-all women, all my mom's age. It was glorious. They were so nice and supportive, as moms often are. They told me I did a good job for having never been to any class before and then they told us, "You guys HAVE to come back!" God I love moms.
All in all, I'd say that I think I did a pretty good job of facing my fear of organized movement routines. Plus the workout was really good, and I didn't even notice I was working out because I was concentrating so hard on getting the moves down the whole time so that she wouldn't make me sit down and watch.
However, I can already tell that in about 6 hours, I will be completely unable to move. I am going to need one of you to come over in the morning with a wheelbarrow and roll me to work. I can offer you payment in the form of pizza flavored Goldfish crackers. Any takers?
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Two weeks ago was Hot Vendor Guy's last week in Cleveland. For our last hurrah, we decided to take him to see this new band. They're called The Bangles. Oh by new, I meant 20 years old.
Seriously, you guys. The Bangles. It was Tim (HVG), the Hor, me, Diane, Meg and Jen. That's right-Tim and 5 chicks. That's so fitting for a Bangles concert. We went to happy hour and dinner first where Hor and Tim decided it would be a good time to take up drinking whiskey. We proceeded to call Tim a p*ssy because he wouldn't drink it fast enough. Did I mention he was already like 5 vodka tonics in? We are good friends. I had decided early on to not drink too much so obviously I was wasted by 5:30. Our waitress sucked so bad I actually had to chase her down inside the restaurant and say, "You're our waitress, right? I'm not really sure because I've only seen you once in an hour and a half." Oh yeah what's up. I'm a badass. I'd just like to point out that had I been sober, Diane would've been sent to deal with the waitress issue. Ah-liquid courage.
The concert was at the House of Blues and was one of those standing room only ones which means we were able to get really close because we are pushy and rude. Let me just interject here that The Bangles played an important role in my youth in that they made me want to be in an all girl rock band more than anything. They also made me want to be Susanna Hoffs. For all my obsession with them, I have never actually seen them in concert. So this...this was a big deal, folks. A big, big deal.
When they first came out, I was like, 'Holy shit is this really happening!?' Then I was like, 'Who the eff is that playing bass?' Cuz it was not Michael Steele. Apparently she officially retired from The Bangles 3 years ago. This hurt me personally because it meant that they did not play "September Gurls" which almost made me want to die, but I got over it because Susanna Hoffs is so pretty.
Honestly. She's 48 and looks exactly the same. Tim never knew she was so good looking, and when she came out he was completely speechless. We actually had to leave him alone with his thoughts for a moment. Or as Danielle said when I asked her where Tim was at one point, "He's jackin' it to Susanna Hoffs."
Truth be told all the Bangles look fantastic for their age. And for my age. They were wearing mini skirts and fishnets and looked freaking awesome. I'm 20 years younger than they are and cannot get away with fishnets. No fair.
They sounded absolutely great. Oh my God I wish I was still listening to them. And okay I don't mean to keep harping on this, but seriously Susanna Hoffs is a goddess. Not only is she totally hot, but she is so. effing. cool! No woman looks cooler playing guitar. She kept tossing her hair around so it would be all in her face. If anyone else did that, they would look like they were trying too hard, but when she did it, it was the greatest thing we've ever seen. I don't even know if I can talk about "Eternal Flame". It was fucking amazing. Yeah I used the f-bomb. It was that good. When it was over, Jen turned to us and said, "She just turned me into a lesbian." She turned all of us, Jen. She turned all of us.
At one point, she was playing guitar and twisted down onto her knees to play, and I turned to Tim who was staring on in complete awe, and I was like, "Are you okay?" and he said, "Shhh-don't talk to me right now."
Then the best thing ever in the whole world happened. There was a quiet lull, and I yelled out, "I love you!" (yeah I'm that girl), and Vicki pointed at me and said, "We love you, too!" She said it to me. DIRECTLY TO ME, YOU GUYS. I completely lost my mind. When it was over, I immediately got into my car and started playing the "Different Light" album. Then I got this text from Jen:
"Eternal Flame for Diane and Drew's wedding song!"
You're a genius, Jen!
And, Bangles, it is 20 years later, and I have never wanted to be in a girl rock band more*. You are my heroes!!!
*Does anyone want to start a girl rock band with me? Preferably you'll be able to play guitar, bass or drums since I can't play any of those. I can play clarinet if you want. There's always room for the clarinet in a rock band.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
You guys, I have huge news: Pam from "The Office" is splitting up with her husband in real life.
Okay technically that's not my news. And whether or not it's huge is in the eye of the Office or Non-Office fan. (By the way, Non-Office fans, what is wrong with you?*) I am very sad for Jenna because every time I see her she talks so lovingly about her husband. I'm sure she's devastated. I think she should come on down to Cleveland and have a drink with me and my friends. Come on, Jenna! Next week we are going to Steph's to do crafts and drink wine. You in?
In other news, DJ from "Roseanne" is 25, married and has 2 kids. Something in my life has clearly gone awry. Where did I go wrong, you guys?
Okay now for the real news. Wait but first some comments on current VH1 shows:
1. Show: "Rock of Love"
Premise: Reality show wherein Poison's Bret Michaels searches for love...in a pool of producer-chosen whack-jobs with big hair, and instead of "Will you accept this rose?" he says, "Will you rock my world?" because life is just that awesome.
My comments: Why am I not on this show.
2. Show: "Pick Up Artist"
Premise: Biggest effing chach I've ever seen in my life calls himself Mystery, wears makeup, face jewelry, ponytail, fuzzy tophats and outfits made entirely out of crushed velvet and gives girl advice to average joe type dorks who probably just need to be themselves.
My comments: Seriously? This guy? Giving advice?
Okay honestly for real I have big news.
I got a new job. It's with the same company where I work now just in a completely different department (and in the same building as my lunch boys). I have John to thank for this opportunity being presented to me because he bribed my new group into interviewing me.
I have been in the job I'm in now for 8 years. I won't bore with you how I got hired and moved into my current position because those stories have nothing to do with alcohol, and I know you guys come here for the alcohol stories. But suffice it to say, I haven't had a "real" interview in, well, ever. So I was terrified going into this interview process. I had to make sure I didn't swear, use the word "totally" or talk about Matthew Fox. All big challenges. Somehow I fooled them into thinking it would be a great idea to hire me. So they did.
I wasn't actively looking for a new job, though I admit I have thought about it for a while because I've been doing the same thing for 8 years and there's really nowhere for me to go from here. This new job will throw me into a different world of which I know nothing about. That both terrifies me and excites me at the same time. This is one of those decisions you have to make with your gut and hope it turns out well. A new job is always a leap of faith. But I called my new manager today, and she said, "Hey Sarah-hang on a sec." and then she turned to her co-worker and said, "Seriously are you not wearing any shoes? Dammit I knew something smelled in here." So maybe it's not that big of a leap after all.
John, honestly, I can't thank you enough for making this opportunity happen and for lighting the fire under my ass. Shop Dungs + Okay Seriously = BFF. And also Shokay Dungsly.
By the way, right before my first interview with one of the women, John texted me with some advice: "Interview tip no. 1: Picture yourself in her underwear."
After that, I can't possibly have bigger news, right? Wrong. My little sister, in a move reminiscent of when she got up to the high school where I was and instantly became more popular than me, has managed to trump me yet again.
DIANE AND DREW ARE ENGAGED!!!
Yes my baby sister is getting married. It's been 2 weeks, but I was under strict orders not to say anything until family and friends were notified.
When they stopped by my house to tell me, I had just gotten off the phone with her. We had been talking about nail polish, and I was expressing my (completely unreasonable) angst at not knowing which shade to choose to wear on my toes for Kim's wedding. So when they stopped by, I, quite unselfishly, assumed they stopped by to help me decide. I went on and on about nail polish till finally Drew said, "Hey" and pointed at Diane who was holding out her hand. I walked up to her and said, "Oh what color are you wearing?" I was still in hard core nail polish mode, people. In my life I have never, ever cared that much about nail polish, but at that moment it consumed me. Diane literally had to point at the ring for me to get it. Then I completely and utterly "lost my shit", as they say.
My reaction in a nutshell:
Screamed at 100 bajillion decibels: "WHAT!?"
Looking back and forth between Drew and Diane.
More looking back and forth.
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!?!??!?"
Screaming, jumping, hugging, crying, etc.
It was an amazing moment. One I'll always remember. I think I really made it special for them, too, by dropping the f-bomb. Well, as it's been well established here, I am nothing if not completely classy.
Drew did everything right. He did it on a random Wednesday for the element of surprise (cute), didn't tell me on purpose because he wanted to surprise me too (so cute), brought his mom and brother ring shopping (so so cute) and asked my dad for permission (soooooo cute). Also he found a way to incorporate Diane's palm pilot (an item with which she has an unhealthy obsession) into the actual proposal itself. He really knows his audience.
In addition to all of that, he had made reservations for his family and ours to go to dinner the night he proposed so I was there when my mom found out. My mom didn't cry, but I did just at seeing her joy. My poor parents. Part of them probably thought they'd never get to plan a wedding. (Right now my mom is probably getting ready to call me to tell me that they "never thought that-we love you just the way you are and are proud of you".)
The ring is effing ridiculously beautiful. I think Woody put it best when he said, "Man Drew screwed us. He's set the bar really, really high."
So now we are busy planning the wedding and God bless Drew for putting up with me pretending like it's my wedding for the next 10 months. He's a patient man, that one.
By the way, it hasn't escaped me that my younger sister is getting married before me. I try to even joke about being upset about it, but I can't. I'm way too happy. But here is my conversation with my friend Sudha after he found out the news:
Sudha: Man. This is really starting to hit me. She's younger than us.
Me: Yeah. We're behind schedule.
Sudha: God I can't wait to hear your speech. Get all drunk and depressed and get up there with a whole bottle of champagne and cry 'I'm never getting married!'
I don't know about the depressed part, but I think we can count on the bottle of champagne, Sudha.
Congratulations, Diane and Drew! I love you guys! Would you rather me sing "Come Clean" or "So Yesterday" at your reception?
*By the way, my mom reluctantly told me the other day that while my parents were in Mexico last week on vacation they happened to watch an episode of "The Office" (aka The Show They Don't "Get"), and they thought it was hilarious. I knew you couldn't resist the powers of Michael Scott, Mom and Dad! Don't worry I will loan you my DVDs. We can become a real family again.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
I can hear you yelling at me for not blogging. Stop it. You can't yell at sick people. Yes that's right I'm sick again. I got sick on Saturday. So while you guys were enjoying your extra long holiday weekend I was laying on my couch with a fever and watching "Continental Divide" (26 years late), an Olsen twin movie which I accidentally put down on my Netflix queue because I thought it was something else and "A Cinderella Story" which I made my sister go see with me in the movie theater and which I happened to just find…ahem…sitting on top of my DVD collection.
I have so much to tell you. It's going to have to be broken up into several posts, though. First the wedding. My friends Kim and Kevin got married on August 25th. Diane and I were in the wedding which means we got to do girlie things like get manicures and pedicures and get our hair done.
Here is basically what my hair looked like:
Only it was more like this:
Honestly it wasn't this bad-it just felt like that. The wedding was beautiful. Kim looked like a princess. As soon as the ceremony was over and my wedding partner and I were walking back down the aisle he turned to me and said, "So now we drink, right?" That gives you a pretty good idea of how the rest of the night went.
Sharda and Meg were drunk when they showed up to the reception. And by about the third song, "YMCA", John, Drew, Aloyd and the groom's brother were dressed up like The Village People (seriously). The sash/belt thingies from our dresses soon became lassos to reel in the dance partner of our choosing. Unfortunately, I know that video exists of me lassoing Aloyd and holding the sash around him while rubbing it on his posterior. I've already mentioned the video of me, Drew and Hor doing the robot. What about the one where I looked over at Meg all by herself, video camera trained on her from 3 feet away, jumping up and down and yelling into the camera. Or Gordon doing the Michael Jackson "Billie Jean" dance. And I really, really don't want to talk about the video of a drunken Diane, Anita and I wishing the happy couple good luck. Yes, Kim and Kevin, enjoy your precious memories.
I'm going on record here blaming Anita for my state of mind because after the complimentary champagne toast (and after we finished off that first bottle), she convinced one of the waiters to bring not one, but two more bottles of champagne for us. What I hear from the peanut gallery is that someone looked over at the head table and said, "Oh my God Sarah is holding a bottle of champagne. This is not good." Well ha ha ha on you, folks, because I ended up being the most sober one in my hotel room that night.
To be fair, it wasn't much of a contest. The other two in the room were Sharda, who at one point in the night had on 3 men's ties and one of the bridesmaid sashes, ran to the bathroom about 45 minutes before the end of the reception to-hmm how to say this nicely-yarf everywhere and Meg, who…well you know what-I will save her some embarrassment by not providing exact details on her activities for the night. Let's just say she likes making out and ended the night in tears because we had to lie and tell her this one guy was a drug user with a girlfriend so she wouldn't try to make out with him. Don't feel bad Meg and Sharda, everyone takes a turn being the ass. Remember me at...well, every single other time we are drunk? That night was your night. Own it. Embrace it.
Can I just go on record saying that a wedding reception at a hotel is the greatest invention ever? When the party's over you just go to the hotel bar, and when they kick you out of the hotel bar because it's closed and because your friends are making out and because you finished off the pizza you ordered at 1:30am, you just go upstairs and go to sleep. It's genius.
Anywho, it was another kick-ass wedding, and I want to wish my friends Kimmy and Kevin the best of luck forever. And please have me over to play with the Bocce ball set I got you. And also you could probably set out some food if you wanted to. I'm just saying.
P.S. Regarding The Train in my previous post: Some of you have asked, "Hey, Okay Seriously? What gives? Why don't you like the lame ass Train?" Okay I added the "lame ass" part. Here's my problem with The Train: it's lame ass. It's so uncomfortable. I always end up behind and in front of strangers whose hips I have to grab and who are grabbing my hips. Call me a prude, but I'm not into sharing hip-grabbing privileges with just anyone all willy-nilly style. Also 80% of the time it means I'm listening to that horrible godforsaken come-on-ride-the-train song so I'm like 50% more homicidal than usual. On a side note: A, I'm glad to hear the 6 foot rule worked for you. If I can save just one person from The Train then I'm doing my job. Look I'm not saying my blog is saving lives, but I think A would agree I totally saved her life.