Sarah

I had the weirdest dream last night. In fact, all my dreams are weird. They must be symbolic but if they're symbolic, I have no fucking clue what they're trying to tell me. Here's an excerpt:

I was sitting in my grandma's living room with my aunt. I put a shoe on my right foot and then she helped me with the other. But instead of a shoe, she was applying some sort of decals, the length of my calves to toes, to the side of my legs. [The strangest part is that I just accepted this as normal].

Then she said, "we need to get you a new man. You know what we need to do that?"

My grandfather peered around the corner. I responded to my aunt "Grandpa?"

She said "no."

"A ferris wheel?"

"No."

"An apple."

"Yes."

So... Does anyone know how to get a guy with an apple? Maybe I should ask McGuyver. Or Eve...

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

 

With a sinus infection! :0(

For the second year in a row I am going to be out of town on a business trip (yeah, that's right. I go on business trips. Don't laugh.) while the SXSW circus comes to town.
 
This makes me happy. And sad. At the same time.

Happy that I can stick my nose in the air at all those "South By" showgoers and with a great big hmmph! say "Excuse me, I have ridiculously important meetings to attend on the east coast. Have ffffffun at your little show. MmHmhmhmhmh!"

And sad. Because I secretly envy those badge-adorned dillholes. And more importantly because I'm going to miss out on Sons & Daughters, The Black and White Years, and MGMT, That really hurts my feelings.

Someone must go to these shows for me and report back!

Hmmph.

Has anyone else seen these Wheel of Fortune commercials on TV? They're actually very hip and funny! Which is weird because WOF is such an old fogie show.
I mean, don't get me wrong! I *love* the Wheel. It's about the only show I watch religiously, since it's on right when I get home from work. But. I'm saying. It hasn't changed shit since the 80's. Except when it upgraded from paper letters to virtual letters, rendering Vanna's job completely USELESS! I wonder how that meeting went over...

Z's WOF Commercial - LOL this one is the best. Y is a total cock smoker.
There is another one I can't find that has the $5000 wheel slat and the Letter G standing next to each other, acting like gangsta rappers.



Related:
Family Guy WOF Spoof
UK WOF (It's like looking into an alternate universe!)
Japanese Game show that hits you in the nuts if you answer wrong!

These are all headlines from men's profiles on Yahoo Personals and PlentyofFish.
I especially enjoy the ones with poor syntax. :0)


For sale: Me

Let's explore the world!

Help other, u will get Helped

Living for every moment with you

can believe im doing this again

Heavy Metal Thunder

boy howdy!

Cleverly disguised as responsible adult

Surprise Me

A Dummy Says What?

New sunshine day

cowboy looking around

Searching for a Genuine Angel :)

Clark Kent plus Otto, the bus driver=ME

I wanna go fast.

NO DRAMA PLEASE

Nice guy finishes last,let change that!!

hey there buy u lunch

big bad bear, hunting for you

CHAPTER ONE
Fuck trains.

And fuck train stations with no platform.
My disdain for trains is deep-rooted. I want to like them. They’re convenient, cheap, nostalgic, and can offer a picturesque view. But. I’ve had one too many scarring experiences to relax enough to enjoy the scrolling landscape. If just once I could have a train ride like that one in Risky Business, maybe I’d be cured. But until then… shall we?

1997 - Little Silver, NJ to Middletown, CT
My cousin Peter and I were dumped off and left stranded a few stops into our trip due to a problem with our tickets.

1998 - New York City Subway
My Dad decided this wasn’t the right train after all and instructed us to quickly deboard. We all got off in time except my friend Kristin. She was banging on the doors in a panic as the train swept her off into the dark tunnel. As soon as I got done laughing I thought, ‘ya know, I’m glad that wasn’t me. Cause that’d be scary.’

1999 - Little Silver, NJ to Hartford, CT
During an equipment change in New York City, I left my oversized suitcase - too large to stow - at my seat while I stepped out onto the platform for a smoke. Probably too preoccupied with worry about my unattended luggage, I failed to hear the conductor’s final boarding call. I did however hear the train whoosh as it released its breaks and started to move. Life turned to slow motion as I dropped my cigarette, whirled around, and LEAPT for the closing door, Indiana Jones style.

[Cut to close up of door wedged open by Sarah’s ass].

Flustered and humiliated, I was yanked the rest of the way threw by a few strangers.

2000 - Hartford, CT to Little Silver, NJ
With no travel companions, no platform enabling me to roll my giant suitcase onto the train, and the upper arm strength of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, I realized my complete and utter dependency on the kindness of strangers.

July 2007 - Newark Liberty Airport to Little Silver, NJ
I stood punctually at the door with my trusty suitcase as the train slowed into Little Silver station. Aaaand stop. Wait. The door’s not opening! Wtf?!



I swung around and saw some passengers exiting at the other end of the car. I knew I only had about 15 or 20 seconds so I bolted down the aisle. Thank God my suitcase has wheels. But curse it for catching on every single arm rest!
OhGod!OhGod!Sonnova!OhGod!OhGod!     
Clunk.Clunk.Cluck.Clunk. …Phew.

Dec 2007 - Little Silver, NJ to Newark Liberty Airport
I sat in the backseat of my aunt’s new Subaru clutching my ticket as I tried to enjoy the humorous CD she put on while we waited for my train. But I was distracted by the growing anxiety in the back of my mind. I just fixated on the dinky, platform-less sidewalk adjacent to the tracks. And it didn’t help that it was dark. Rainy. Windy. Bitterly cold. Or that I had a 40-pound suitcase. Plus two shoulder bags. And my coat that was too damn small to fit over the sweater I was wearing.
My aunt commented at one point that my cousin Peter would help me get my bag on the train. I appreciated the gesture however given the fact that he is about 5’4’ and 110 lbs, my mind was still not at ease. Ugh. Better put my ticket back in my purse just incase.
Finally the train arrived. I jumped out of the car and threw on my shoulder bags. Peter lugged my suitcase out of the trunk and plopped it down. Then he opened his arms for a hug.


A hug. So I guess this means I’m on my own.


I decided not to ask him for help. Like I said, he’d probably have just as much trouble. I’d just figure something out. In the entire 30 seconds that I had.
With my heart racing, I ran to the train as it was slowing to a halt. The other few eager-to-riders and I were trying to determine which door was going to open and where exactly it was going to be once the train came to a full stop.
We formed a single file line and made our way to a set of two open doors. Ok. How’m gonna do this? I gauged the man in front of me. He looked maybe a bit too old to lift a heavy suitcase. I looked behind me. A women in her late 50’s and a young, elegant blonde in her early 20‘s. I turned back to the man but it was too late to ask him. Oh god. I turned back again desperately as the two women were about to board through one of the entrances.

Shit. Bad choice of words I realized as the older women supported the younger woman’s back while she awkwardly jerked her body up the stairs on her clumsy legs.
They ignored me.
I mean, I can understand why the younger girl said nothing, but the older lady could have at least said “sorry” or “piss off” or something. Bitch, I thought. Ok. Maybe she doesn’t deserve that but I was feeling helpless and shunned. You know, like a minority.

With a final shred of hope and desperation I looked down the sidewalk, but the conductor was too far away. I realized I was on my own. With a deep breath, I managed to heave my bag up onto the first narrow step, leaving little room for myself. But I made it up. Fucking bag. Fucking train. Fucking arthritis. Fucking not having a boyfriend to do this for me. Or anyone for that matter. Yeah. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. It didn’t help that I was already emotional that day about other bullshit. It is amazing though, the strength one can muster in moments of panic and desperation.
The doors whooshed shut as I pulled my bag up over the last step. Phew.
As I stood in the breezeway between trying to catch my breath, I watched the older lady seat the young women and then hurry back to exit the train. But the infamous doors were shut.


I did my best not to snicker at her crazed tone. Who is she even talking to? No employees were around. I turned and entered the car behind me, my burden rolling behind me. As the car door slid shut I heard her again.


The train ignored her and started to move. I didn’t know whether to laugh at the women’s misfortune or cry from being so stressed out. I pondered this as my bag caught on every arm rest. Goddamnmotherfucker!
Approaching me from the other direction was an obese woman in a conductor’s uniform and tacky Christmas earrings. I apologized and tried to half pull my bag into a row and move myself as well, so she could get by. But she just stood there looking absentminded. What’s she waiting for? My ticket? God damnit, woman! Let me get to my seat first! I fished through a shoulder bag as I grumbled,


…she said coldly.
Damnit bitch! I moved into the row again and yanked my bag in a little further allowing her fat ass to pass.
I sighed as I realized I wasn’t going to be able to fit my bloated bag into any of the rows perfectly. I opted for the handicap row at the back of the car since it had more room.
I flopped down and breathed a sigh of relief. Then I started to cry, feeling overwhelmed.
As if that’s not pathetic enough, I realized I didn’t have a tissue so I forced myself to stop.

**************************************************************
CHAPTER TWO
Scheduled: 7:55pm / Now: 11:35pm

Back at my aunt’s house we saw online that my flight had been delayed several hours. But she cautioned me to get there on time anyway, just in case they leave at the scheduled time.

[cut to airport]
Fuck airports! I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy any bit of it. I was still dejected from my train ride, and pissed at myself for choosing not to shower that morning. Or put on make up. Or where something attractive. And for letting myself gain holiday fat. I looked oily, disheveled, and fat. The security guard even looked a little taken aback as he shifted his eyes back and forth from me to my driver’s license.
Once through security I decided there was nothing better to do than eat. A slice of pepperoni pizza and waffle cone of frozen swirl yogurt later… I was just feeling fatter and oilier.

I headed to gate 86, located at the end of the wing, and down the stairs. I overheard a man call it “the dungeon.” Down in the dungeon, I looked around at the crowd of ornery people and baggage. The board was displaying the information for the flight before mine, departing at 10:35pm.

The dungeon was just too dirty and depressing so I ventured back up into the main concourse to look for something to do, or a abandoned gate waiting area that I could relax in.

I remembered they had a small spa nearby so I ducked in to see if I could kill some time and relieve some stress with a manicure. If anything, it would have at least made me feel a little more civilized, I thought as I glanced down at the chipped polish on my broken nails. Not that it would really do much to distract from my apparent metamorphosis into a werewolf.
A weird lanky dude was finishing massaging a customer.


In an accent that I maybe sounded Austrian…


He sounded like he wasn’t but said so anyway.
Ugh. Fine. Betch.
I rerouted for the bookstore. It was about the only thing still open. I was relieved to see they had a new Sylvia Browne book. Finally a little good fortune. I bought a crossword book too incase I lost the mood for reading.
By this time my flight had been pushed back even farther to 11:58pm. Tired and not caring anymore, I returned to the dungeon and plopped down on the floor with my new book. But my mind started to wander. I tried to think about all the things I was thankful for, like the $500 check I received from my aunt. I remember I didn’t have her address in my phone so I fished through my bag for the check with her address on it.
My stomach dropped.
Oh my god.
Please no.
Please god!
This isn’t happening!
Where is it?!
I pulled everything out. Twice. But it was no where to be found.
Maybe it was in my purse inside my checked bag. Or maybe it was in the trash at my Grandma's. Or maybe it was on the god forsaken train. I realized I would be fraught with worry the entire THREE hour flight home.
Could things get any worse?

Yes. Yes, the could.

*****************************************
CHAPTER THREE
Attention on the concourse. Now boarding flight 666 to HELL.

It wasn’t until after midnight that they finally started boarding.
I should have been home in bed by now, I thought.
I stood in the first class cabin waiting for the line to move forward. Lucky bastards.
A blonde girl with a eye mask on her forehead was sprawled out sideways in her cushy seat. I wondered if she was drunk.


I realized she was talking to me, as I clutched my new Sylvia book. I paused for a moment, distracted by her syntax.




She gazed off and said absentmindedly,


Ok. Ok. So I only thought the last line. …Five minutes later. Instead I just glared at her and followed it with an eye roll.
I got to my seat, which was located one row behind her, in the peasant main cabin. For some reason I was so bothered by her comment, and my lack of response, that I let it eat away at me, and so I fumed in my seat as I overheard her continue to make dumb-bitch comments.
I was however relieved to have an aisle seat, with a seat between me and the girl with the window seat. I laid my jacket down on the middle seat and got settled in.
I tuned out the flight attendant as she went on with her welcome spiel, but the words “four hours and twenty minutes” grabbed my attention. FOUR HOURS my ass! My flight out here was three. What are we gonna do, take the scenic route? Well, at least they have to serve us food. I mean, hell, on my three hour flight not only did they feed us dinner but they showed us a movie too. But seeing the pattern of events today, I realized it would probably just be peanuts. And I didn't smell any food. Or see any TV screens. I sunk back into my seat. Well, whatever, I thought. I’ll just sleep. Can’t be hungry if I’m asleep. Thank goodness I got a good seat.

[cue Giant]

A giant muscular black man donning a longhorn sweatshirt and ski pants - probably the only thing he can fit into - stood in the aisle at my side and with the goofiest fucking grin, pointed at my jacket on the middle seat.
Yeah..? That’s my jacket. Why is he pointing at it?
I moved my jacket into my lap and the giant man squeezed himself in between me and my row mate. His bulbous right arm extended PAST the arm rest and into my seat.
        

At first I was completely beside myself in utter frustration and wanted to SCREAM.
Then for a moment I thought the tragedy of it was so funny. What a great gag for a movie scene.
Then I started cry.

I buried my head in my hands so no one would see the tears streaking down my oily face.
By the time the plane was taking off I was numb.

As we got about 100 feet in the air, I heard the dumb bitch breathing heavy and moaning like she was getting friendly with her seat mate. Is this for real, I thought? The cabin shook from some light turbulence, something I’ve grown accustomed to. More moans.


I took some comfort in her discomfort and prayed for more turbulence.

Squished in my seat, a male flight attendant approached with a box.

You bastard.

I snatched the bag of peanuts and curled up awkwardly to the right side of my chair. I torn at the bag, thankful to at least get something on my stomach for the next four hours.

Alas, I could not get the bag open.

Figures

Alright.

I know I just said I was in love with Matt Bellamy. And I still am.

But. Well.

A girl can be genuinely, whole-heartedly in love with two men at the same time. Can’t she?

My latest crush obsession stalkee darling is Milo Ventimiglia, aka Peter Petrelli of Heroes. Oh my god, look at him. So sexy! With the hair and the eyes. *faint*

But soul mates aside, have you all seen this show? Hhooooh my god. Fricking phenomenal. Dare I say, better than… No. I cannot betray Joss.

Let’s just say, if Heroes: Season 1 was bound and locked in a cage that was suspended over a vat of hot, boiling lava (or whatever you put lava in), and Buffy: Seasons 1-7 WITH Angel: Seasons 1-5 AND Firefly: Season 1 were also bound and locked in another cage suspended over the lava… well, I would have a hard time deciding who to save.

I guess I could just save them both actually. I mean, there’s no one else around. I don’t even know why I bought that vat of lava in the first place. BUT. I would definitely have a hard time deciding which series got priority placement when returning them to the DVD shelf after freeing them from their cages.

Ugh. I’ll just alphabetize them.

Anyway. Back to Heroes. Ok, so yeah. I’m a little late in the game. I only just discovered the show a few weeks ago. (Thanks Doug). And I’ve only seen the first season. The majority of which I watched over the past few days. Yeah. Did I mention addiction? Because how else can I explain the depressive withdrawals I experienced each time I tried to rip myself away.

But now I’m psyched for Season Two. And fortunately it looks like the network is about to repeat Season Two because of the writer’s strike. Yay! I can catch up!

Ugh though. Another hour of television each week that will cut into “productive time.” Bad Sarah.

Other shows I’ve become enslaved to:

The Biggest Loser – This show is so inspiring to me. I seriously force myself to throw up after every episode and then weigh in too!

Dancing with the Stars – Although not so much now that that Cheetah girl got kicked off.

Phenomenon – But I think it’s ending soon. Or just ended. Anyway, how do they do that shit?!

Cavemen – Look! I don’t need to explain myself to you! Just leave me and my Cromags alone! Bech.

 

 

 

 

 

Our annual Friendsgiving this year proved to be much more enthralling than actual family Thanksgiving.

This year we were fortunate enough to celebrate our ever-growing Friendsgiving in a house! Caroline and Jonathan hosted the get-together at their new residence. Here are some favorite quotes from the evening:

Sarah (pointing at Scott's black fingernail): OH MY GOD!! What happened to your freak finger?
Scott: Huh? It's nail polish.
Sarah: Ooh.
Scott: Hah, you'd be really good working at the Home for Deformed Children.
Adam: Hah! I love that there's a Home for Deformed Children.
------
Adam: Knock Knock.
Mike: Who's there?
Adam: Interrupting gay.
Mike: Interrupting g--
Adam: Haaaaaay!
Sarah: Hahahaha! .........So I don't get it. Is it like you're saying you're gay or you're calling the other person--
Everyone: Oh my god!!!
Beth (to Sarah): You should never be allowed to tell a joke.
------
Mike: "Really? Because I thought that video of you tea-bagging a dog while wearing a bikini would have been proof enough."
------
Beth: "Ha ha holocaust!"
------
Scott (as some possibly-offended guests we're leaving): We did it!
------
Most over-used quote: "...and I put my balls on it."