"Note to Self: Don't Die"

Everything is right in my world again. I've been stressing lately over shit that really shouldn't matter.

Tonight was spent in the best of company: four of my closest female friends all at the same concert. If Jen had been there my girl world would have been complete.

Ryan Adams was great, but the part that really had me in antics was sitting near Dooce. I assume everyone knows her, after all she's achieved rockstar status in my book. When I started doing my excited dance my friends strained their eyes looking around for Ryan Adams. When I pointed Dooce out to them, I got a collective "who?" OMG people, DOOCE! I was shocked. When I explained who she was they all sorta looked at her and shrugged. Sue, being perfect, couldn't understand my fascination. "Sarah, you're way prettier." Of course, she's my friend and has to say that. Aimee then pointed out her "gross shorts." This is when I realized how lucky I really am--I'll always be the prettiest blogger in their minds.

And for that, I love them even more.

The Horror of Denim--Me, Circa 1998

I, Sarah Middlenameless Nielson, will never encourage friends to start blogging again. I have learned a very valuable lesson. Midge started a blog for her new son Ike, but realizing how cool blogs can be, she created her own as well. Here she's posted some humiliating photos she arranged of me years ago. And in typical self-deprecating fashion I'm going to pass them on.

"Why," you ask? Why not.

View the horror here.

What I've learned since the 90's:
1) Having a killer tan leads to skin cancer.
2) All fashion from this decade should be burned.

I hope to forgive her before tonight's Ryan Adams concert. Since I don't have a date she'll have to snuggle me if i get cold. Let the healing process begin...

Letter to my Missionary Brother #3

Dear Chady-Bear,

STOP SENDING BEN LETTERS TO MY HOUSE! (Please read that as many times as necessary.) Seriously, I’m not a postal carrier—I don’t have the legs for it, though I doubt all postal carriers are as hot as the girl that delivers my mail. I bet most people have men or women who look like they moonlight at the Maverick. Remember that creepy lady that worked at the Mav by my house and I refused to go in when she was working because I was convinced her face moles were separate people? Sorry, I digress… I just don’t want to be bothered with having to deliver Ben his mail. You have his address. I’ve given it to you, Mom’s given it to you and from what I understand so has Ben. STOP.

How are you?

I’m out of wine. The case of two-buck chuck you gave me before leaving is long gone. Maybe I’m drinking to cope with the loss of my baby brother?

I’m accidentally addicted to the Justin Timberlake Bringing Sexy Back song. I have no idea what happened, but I am 100% obsessed. Also obsessed with” Big Love.” The first time I watched it I hated it and didn’t get past the opening credits. I gave it a second chance and it’s like crack---totally addicting. I know Ben watches it, but did you pre-mission? It could be the common religious link all the siblings share! I bet Matt & Holli would watch it. Jeff and what’s her face probably do, since they live pretty much in Herriman (which is probably home to many polygamists).

Summer semester end this week, which will be nice. I’ll have time to optimize my procrastination skills. I promised myself I’d organize and clean that little office nook I have upstairs. I was going to ask if you missed being in classes, but remembered Mom said you were in class non-stop in the MTC.

Things are going pretty well despite my silly rants. I miss seeing my geeks everyday but I don’t miss that sick feeling in my stomach I got each day walking into the office. Freedom is aweome and totally worth pinching pennies over. That iPhone can wait, and the trip to Italy with Silvia will be there next year. She’s moving back. I can’t wait to have my Italian mother back. Daisy still scratches on her door thinking she and Rog still live there.

Carmen is moving to San Diego at the end of the month. It hit me pretty hard. He’s been a constant in my life for ten years. It’ll be weird not being able to just drive over to his house. I can’t think about it too long without getting emotional.

I’ll let you get back to whatever you do there, but consider yourself updated on my life as requested.

Love you Bear!

Love,
Sissy

A Plea

Dear Men of SLC,

I'm thrilled that you don't have the body issues we women tend to have, but please for the love of god cover up your man fur! I know it's hot as hell outside, yet I still wear clothing and would appreciate it if you could.

I can see your reasoning that the back hair provides a protective layer for your sensitive skin while riding your bike. BUT, what about the protective layer for the rest of us? If you don't have a shirt, I'd be more than happy to raid Ben's closet and steal you one. Seriously, whatever it takes.

If you could rectify this situation immediately that would be great. I thank you. Young children thank you. The city thanks you.

Regards,
Sarah

My Newest Addiction

Last night's Clemson night was spent drinking at The Twilight Lounge. It was there I discovered I'm awesome at pinball. I mean, I've always suspected but with the help of a much younger version of Mel Gibson I beat Jon hands down. Though Jon may not agree with that last statement, he felt we ended in a tie. I agreed on a tie, but with me secretly winning.

Thankful He Lives in Murray

Aimee and her daughter, Lo, met Ben and I at the Farmer's Market this morning. Ben and Lo are like siblings these days. One day they hate each other and the next they are inseparable. Today was an on day. I think it had something to do with Ben teaching her how to blow bubbles with her gum last week.

My favorite part was the cupcake stand. Aimee's favorite part was leaving and not having a parking ticket. Lo's favorite part were the snow cones and Ben's favorite part was comparing SLC Mayoral Candidates to Dick Cheney.

I think he's considering a move downtown so he can vote in the race, based solely on looks. This is the brother who refuses to acknowledge the fact I pick favorite sports teams based on uniform colors. Hmm...

My Lack of Communication Skills

I started going grocery shopping with Marky. For two reasons: 1) He always drives, and 2) I don't have to talk to people, therefore keeping the name calling to a minimum.

So yesterday when the following conversation took place:

Mark: Wanna go to myer frank at some point today?

Me: I need cottage cheese, so yes.

Mark: Cool. I'll ping ya when I get out of the movie

I didn't think twice about it, until I got in the car.

Me: I brought my library books to return since it's right by the grocery store.
Mark: Ok. Did you want to go to the grocery store too?
Me: I thought we were going to Fred Meyers.
Mark: Um, no I said Myer and Frank, and besides there's no such thing as Fred Meyer anymore, it's Smiths now.
Me: Shit. So it didn't dawn on you I was confused when I said something about cottage cheese.
Mark: No. Cottage cheese is a major part of our lives now.

And he's right. Since I'm addicted to cottage cheese, I forced my addiction onto him. It's just easier that way.

Thanks for the insecurities, lady--column 7.26.07

Click here to read this week's column. Suddenly my aversion to grocery stores will make sense.

Pavlov's Clinton

My singing & dancing Bill Clinton doll lives atop my fridge, next to Daisy's treat jar. The only time Bill dances these days is when I'm getting Daisy a treat and bump him.

The other day someone was over and pushed the button to see the song & dance routine. Daisy, who was asleep upstairs, nearly tumbled down the stairs rushing to get down. She sat in the kitchen and begged and begged until she was rewarded with a treat. My democrat minded pug doesn't need a bell to stimulate conditioned response. She needs a Clinton --preferably Bill, as Hillary doesn't seem like much of a dancer.

When Brothers Don't Pray!

Obviously Chady-Bear isn't praying like I suggested he do. First my hometown is near the Salt Creek Fire, now the town has a flash flood warning? Will my easy bake oven ever be safe?

If only the MTC allowed news Chady would know Leamington needed him.

Breaking the Bond

In my screwed up world a new gal pal is usually more exciting then a new boyfriend. No, I'm not a lesbian. Sad that I have to write that, but I know I'm going to get at least two emails asking just that. I repeat, NO LESBIAN HERE--unless you count my girl crush on Gwen Stefani.

Anyway.

I have few lifelong girlfriends. The ones I have mean the world to me, but as the years go by we have less and less in common. This doesn't mean for a second I love them less, it just means I need to find partners-in-crime for my daily activities.

Enter the new gal pals. Each time I meet one I'm thrilled at the prospect of a new friend, and instantly force a connection with them. And each time it quickly fades, just like with new boyfriends. We find we have less in common or I find I don't trust them at all.

So in the end I feel like I'm dating men and women, and that's just exhausting. Am I?

Family First

When my Uncle Cabbage Patch says jump, I jump, or blog as the case may be. He's requested I blog the ten stupidest things I've done in my life. In my typical self-deprecating manor I've decided to comply. I'm sure there are far more stupid actions on my part, but these are the first that come to mind:

1. Not finishing college the first time around.
2. Not finishing college the second time around.
3. Giving my cheating boyfriend a second chance--"be ye not so stupid."
4. Getting a checking account at 20. Little did I know what bouncing a check would do to the rest of my life.
5. Staying in a dead end job longer than I should have.
6. Letting my temper (Nielson Charm) get the best of me. For example, throwing a drink at one of my best friends in anger.
7. Not taking advice from my parents.
8. Attempting an adult relationship at 21. Enough said.
9. Perms.
10. Not spending enough time with Tim, therefore resulting in way too much guilt when he died.

**Now remember Uncle CP, the above is my version of stupid, not my dad's version. I imagine he wouldn't be able to narrow it down to 100 let alone 10. Also, you're still reading this thing? Why not call and invite me out to dinner to hear about my life in person. Just a thought...

Why I'm Over Rocky & Jeff Bell:

1:49 PM Jeff: am I on your blog yet? LOL

anything blogger.com is blocked at work.

1:50 PM me: Can't you look on sarahnielson.com?

Jeff: Reason:
The Websense category "Social Networking and Personal Sites" is filtered.

:'(

me: But ya, I blogged it this morning.

1:51 PM Jeff: yay!

thanks

I didn't get to my machine this morning, sadly

me: Stupid rocky blocking me. I revoke my past votes.

Jeff: LOL

not his fault. It's the damn bureaucrats

1:52 PM me: Whatever. I am way more important than advocating water bottle recycling!

What I'll be Doing Tonight:

You too can heckle from home!

Letter to my Missionary Brother #2

Dear Chady-Bear, 7.22.07

I got your letter AND EMAIL asking for more letters. This is the part where righteous indignation kicks in. I am sending you letters! This is the second one in a month. That’s way more then I ever sent Ben—granted Ben can’t read, but still…

(Please note I used the word righteous, I’m trying to think of key words the MTC will approve of.)

I’ve got a proposition for you: I’ll gladly send you one (or more) letters per month, but they’ll also get posted on my blog. I can hear you freaking out, but it’s not really that bad. I’m not posting your letters, though I will sometimes blog about something if it’s funny enough, like the woman’s underwear you found in your ALL MALE MTC DORM! Now, that’s funny and worth mentioning, but I promise you all the religions stuff you write I won’t blog, because it’s private and boring. Deal?

So I have a confession to make. (Confession, yet another MTC approved word!) Remember the day of your farewell and you told me not to read the letter you were sending your mission president? I did anyway. Sorry, but I’m way too nosy, and once you told me not to of course I had to. But it’s not all bad. I saw what sweet things you wrote about me. If I remember correctly it was that I’m a super funny sister even if I’m not a “real Mormon.” I couldn’t help but laugh. You’re pretty funny yourself.

Things here are mostly good. My computer Chia pet died this week. Twice. Seriously how I can keep a dog alive is a miracle. I went and saw Transformers. It was okay, but more your style of movie. What’s that? You want to see it, but can’t? Ha ha, that’s what you get for picking God over real life.

So how are things going there anyway? I can’t imagine having to learn a language in three months. I just saw on the news the Nephi fire is still a huge threat. I guess you’re not praying enough. Better get right on that, it’s getting pretty close to mom and dad. I’m sure they are fine, but my easy bake oven is at their house and I don’t want to have it in danger.

Sorry Bear, but I don’t have a picture to send you this time. I know you want one of Daisy and me together. I’ll get one sent soon. I promise. Ben said to tell you hi. Apparently that’s supposed to count as a letter—his words not mine. When are you leaving for Japan? I need to make room in my apartment for all the cute pink Hello Kitty stuff you’re going to be sending.

Well I need to get to bed, I’m old and this past weekend held way too many late night activities for me.

Love and miss you.

Sis

Why Texting is ALWAYS Better

Today, while on the phone with a cute guy I know, he asked "So what are you doing this week?" To which I replied, "Sweating." Our conversation sorta fizzed out at that point. Who wants to ask the sweaty girl out? Exactly.

Birthday Porn

Nothing says Happy Birthday like midget porn. For real.

Sue, one of my pseudo sisters, had a birthday party last night. (I have the best of both worlds: real brothers who have to do chores for me, and pretend sisters who are talented beyond belief. )

After a few drinks on the deck we moved into the living room to watch a "movie." Something I suggest you don't watch sober. Ever.

I am always one of the first to leave these parties. I'm old. But I always have an excellent reason for leaving. Last night's excuse was my stripper bruises hurt:

Trying to Quit:

The travesty of 'Transformers' and what really happened to Captain America--7.19

To read this week's column click here!

Also, my first promo ad is running. I'm thrilled! Click here to listen.

"I'm so cute," and hated?

Mrs. AK, being the fabulous bitch she is, brought me a souvenir home from her trip to Oregon. She must have sensed how badly I needed a book bag with a secret pocket for sneaking margarita juice into Gallivan on Thursday's for my special snowcones.

Anyway, I had the bag at school Monday night and this girl looks at me and says, "oh my gosh, that bag totally fits you!" Seems like a sly way of proclaiming her hate, doesn't it?

Chill!

I'd hate for the world wide web to think I don't know how to properly store vodka. See those three bottles next to my ice cubes? All vodka. The fridge vodka is back-up. A girl must have martini supplies at all times. And no, I didn't learn that one from my mother, but Dorothy Parker.

Again with the cheating:

1st Violation: pug on couch. 2nd Violation: pug way too close to the "competition."
That'll teach me not to leave newspapers laying around.

What's wrong with this picture?

Not a damn thing if you ask me! If you ask my friend Justin, however, he'll tell you how "quirky" it is that I keep my coffee pot in the fridge. (And by quirky he means weird as hell.)

I like iced coffee, why wouldn't I put it in the fridge?

After I explained he still laughed at me. See if I ever invite him over for lunch again.

Why the neighbors refer to me as "that girl":

Last night while letting Daisy out, I decided to give her a quick walk up the street. It was dark so I thought no one would see me, and started doing lunges as I walked her. (I'm trying desperately to tighten my junk in the trunk.)

Five minutes later I heard something behind me and turned to see the neighbor's hot son. Great.

It might not have been so bad if I wasn't wearing a wife beater tank top, an ex-boyfriend's ratty boxers and mismatched flip-flops. At times like this I'm amazed I ever get dates.

Sunday Whores

me: my peach chips are addicting.

why you need to know this? beats me.

mark: we are chip whores,

that's why

me: there are worse things.

mark: true

me: i'd rather be a chip whore than just a whore.

it's the chips that separate me.

mark: I like to be a little of both, but maybe that is only cause I am bored right now....

Questions:

Do you ever find yourself looking at a friend mid-conversation and wonder why in the world you're even friends with him or/her? And just because I do that, does that make me a shitty friend?

Just because Ben is getting older, do I have to?

I miss someone I shouldn't be missing--do I act on that?

Unless You're at a Jazz Festival, AC is Mandatory--column 7.12.07

To read this week's column click here.

Cheaters be damned!

I hate Friday the 13th. I've never been much of a superstitious person until a few years ago. Now, I'm absolutely terrified of these blasted Fridays. The entire day I worry and feel panicky that my world is going to come crashing down around me, once again.

It was Friday the 13th when I found out my boyfriend at the time was cheating on me.

Since then many things in my life have changed. I've finally gotten to the point where I don't feel that I drove him to it. I don't hear his name and instantly feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and thrown into a blender. I'm at the point where I (gasp!) trust men again. But, each time the calendar reads Friday the 13th I feel sick inside. Now that feeling only lasts one day, and not every day.

Typically I ignore the day altogether and hibernate, but not this year. It so happen happens today is not just the day of impending gloom, but also Ben's birthday. So instead of feeling sorry for myself, I'm going to focus on my rockstar brother, who despite all the shit i give him, is the best brother a girl could ask for.

Happy Birthday Bennyboy!

I'm the man of my house!

I walked into the bathroom last night with the intention of throwing a teeny bopper clothing catalog into the garbage.

I glanced at the toilet, then glanced back at the magazine and quickly without a second thought I sat down and flipped through the pages while I peed.

I finished up business, tossed the catalog into the trash, washed my hands and felt manlier than I have in a very long time. Which is a tad surprising, given my deep mannish voice.

All The Better To Kill You With

"Hey Ben, are you busy?"

"Yup. I'm doing shiv research."

"You're so weird, what are you really doing?"

"Looking up shiv on the internet."

"Why exactly?"

"I was trying to text shit and my t9 wrote shiv. So I needed to research it."

"And what are you learning?"

"Duh, Sarah. Lots. The shiv is the favored weapon of inmates in prisons across the world."

"Cool Ben, I'll know what to kill you with if you don't come hang these shelves on my wall."

Letter to my Missionary Brother

Dear Chady-bear, 7/10/07

Thanks for your email! As requested here is your “real” letter. I’m glad you liked the package I sent you. However, I’m not sending you anymore jerky. I gave you enough to last a normal person a year. Silly Bear, red meat is bad for you. Did you like the stuff Ben included? As you may have guessed the half used bottle of mustard was his addition. Go figure.

I’m sorry you have to share a room with 12 guys. That doesn’t sound so bad to me, sans the garments of course.

This part of your email made me giggle: Are the mariners winning their division? Are the redsox wasting the yankee's? Come on, keep me posted, I’m in a prison up here about to go crazy!

It’s so cute you think I have any idea which baseball teams are winning. The only baseball related fact I can offer is Thirsty Thursdays at the Bee games are by far the best thing baseball has to offer, even though the beer lines are long.

As far as feeling like you are in a prison, I have one word: DUH! What were you expecting? The MTC isn't exactly a Hilton.

Three months without any sports, news and “huntin” is going to drive you crazy. Maybe you should just come home. You can hide in my apartment for the next two years--Mom and Dad will never know the difference. I think it’s brilliant! You’ll of course have to get a job or be my manservant. Your duties would be simple: clean, cook, walk Daisy, designated driving, Starbucks runs and garbage removal. It’s not Japan but at least it’s religion-free. Plus the only language you’ll have to learn is Sarah-speak, and you’ve already got 19 years experience.

All in all, it makes sense. Well… other than I can’t offer you medical or dental insurance. And I have a strict no gun policy in my house.

You’ll stay, I know you. Besides you’re the youngest child and pleasing Mom and Dad is all on your shoulders. I was lucky to be the oldest. I knew I could spend a lifetime disappointing them with my life choices and they still have four other children to make them proud. But no pressure, Chady.

I love you and miss having my Bear around. Visiting home just isn’t the same without you there. It’s too quiet and no one fights me for complete control of the television.

Let me know if you’d like something sent that isn’t jerky. I can wrap items in newspaper next time so you can at least read what the hell is going on in the world.

Love,

Sissy

Lunch Observations:

Is it just me or are these dinner mints an odd choice for a Thai restaurant?

Fortune Flowers?

Being the constant klutz, I accidentally knocked over a friend's orchid while at his place last week. It snapped in half and was totally unsalvageable. After a bit of a guilt trip on his part I replaced it with a new one.

I picked it for the color and didn't notice the name until I gave it to him: "City Girl x Marriage Ring." I kept the tag and added it to my own orchid. Who knows, it may bring me luck... or a ring.

My Weekend Likes & Dislikes

Things I disliked:
friendship triangles
butt sweat at the gym (on myself and others)
buying a yellow orchid and knowing i have to give it away
having brockstar out of town
paying $1 for a cup of ice at the jazz fest
only having one glass of wine left and knowing the liquor store is closed


Things I liked:
port wine cheese
yellow orchids
bloody mary potato chips
the movie once and the mighty heart
making little ak giggle
"sinatra and friends" playing at the jazz fest
new sunglasses

Always the Pervert

Marky and I went to Costco today for supplies: potato chips and water. I commented on his new pants and he said, "I like them, but the pockets are too small and my shit is way too big."

How am I not supposed to take that dirty? Seriously.

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to date cowboys--Column 7.5.07

To read this week's column click here. To see humiliating, yet fun, pics click here.

The Time Warp that is Delta

A friend and I drove to Delta yesterday for the demolition derby extravaganza. Sadly, Country Carl didn't take part like he did in last year's derby. But at least he got to sit with us this year, which gave him ample opportunity to explain all things derby to my friend.

My favorite part of the evening was not timing the drive home so perfectly we saw six different small town firework shows; it also wasn't the margarita snow cones I've so brilliantly made my summer drink; nor was it sneaking into the Delta bar when no family members were in sight; my favorite part wasn't finding cinnamon flavored Sun Chips.

Can you guess what my favorite part was:Yes, the program with the wrong year was the highlight of the trip!

Finally Putting My Tattoo To Good Use

What I'm Looking for in a Man:

Mrs. AK sent this picture from Portland. I asked her to bring me home some wine, but I'm strongly reconsidering and asking her to bring home the man.

Why it's important to finish college in your 20's:

Male Classmate: "So, how old are you?"

Me: "Thirty-one."

MC:"Well you don't totally look 31."

A very pissed off me: "Umm, thanks?"

A Weekend in Quotes:

"I don't kick computers I don't know."

"I'm like a drinking ninja."

"I'm pretty sure Wyoming has no laws. They are just happy people live here."

"Are you forsaken me?"

"It's someone else's turn to watch Sarah."

Generation Gap

Ben: "What does NKOTB stand for?"
Sarah: "Duh. The greatest band ever, New Kids On The Block!"

And suddenly that eight year age difference between siblings is all to clear.