RSS Shit

So you all know I moved here and you need to update your RSS info on my new site, right? After a couple emails asking why I haven't been writing, I figured it might be wise to post here and remind you I'm a giant quitter. I quit ballet and I quit Blogger.

Remember, www.sarahnielson.com. Got it? Good.

Moving On

I've been blogging on Blogspot for a couple of years now, and it's time for a change. I'm going to be moving my blog from Blogspot tomorrow, thanks to lots of help from The Kid. I've been wanting to do this for a while but I'm lazy. He, however, is not. He's got the drive those silly young kids seem to have. Me? Notsomuch.

What does this mean for you? Hopefully not much. Some of you already use the domain www.sarahnielson.com, but will still need to change your RSS feed once my content is moved over. My new site will have an easy RSS feed so just add it. Also, if you have this blog linked on yours please change to www.sarahnielson.com if that's not the URL you're currently using.

I'm finally getting around to adding a blogroll to the new site, but it's a slow process. So if you don't see your blog linked on there give me a couple of weeks to finish that up. I'm lazy remember? I need to save that energy to lift a wine glass to my lips.

Change can be such a pain in the ass, but I think it will be worth it!

Letter to Missionary Brother #11

Dear Chady-bear,

You haven’t written me a letter in ages. You’re fired!. And so is your church. What’s the story? No letter certainly feels like no love. Did your mission president ban me?

So things here are absolutely insane. I’ve decided missions are bad luck for our family. When Ben went Jeff lost his mind, now that you are gone Jeff lost his mind again. I’m blaming the mission, not Jeff. It really should be the other way around, but Matt is going through some really hard stuff right now, too. This supports my theory that missions are bad luck. In fact, I think you should come home immediately. This is the only way to prevent anything else horrible from happening to our family. I’m not going to write about Matt’s stuff because I’m sure Mom has, and it makes me cry every time I think about it. Sometimes life is so unfair you wonder why you bother. This is one of those times.

On a happier note, it’s getting warmer here. Summer is just around the corner. I wish you were around so we could go on a camping trip. Ben is always too busy, and by busy I mean lazy. Another bit of good news: Carmen is moving home.

Uncle Bry is having a family dinner tonight, I’m excited because I get to see Jenny’s kids and because Bry will feed me. Ben and I used to go over there for Sunday dinner a couple times a month but not so much lately. I think we’ve been fired.

I’m not writing you anything about me (too bad for you, because I have lots to say) until you get your lazy ass in gear and send your sister a letter. Shame on you, Chady! Now you’ll never get to hear about my snowboarding experience. Yup, I finally went. You’re dying to know if I liked it or hated it, aren’t you? Too bad.

Love,
Sissy

PS. I was kidding about you coming home. Stay put. I need as much Hello Kitty paraphernalia as I can get.

Pinch Me, and I'll Punch You

Last night I carefully set out the four pairs of green shoes I own, so that I would have a variety of green to choose from this morning. And somehow I still managed to forget it was St. Patty's day and wear my purple, polka-dot velvet shoes. Oh well, it's the thought that counts.

Cookies or Bust

I am a woman obsessed. I've been stalking small children on the street, girl children to be specific. I need Girl Scout cookies! I no longer work for a company where parents peddle cookies for their children. I'm thinking about quiting my current job and searching for one with sugar benefits.

The Yuppie works for a company with sugar benefits. He scored me two boxes of my very favorite cookies: Samoas. (I think I ate my weight in Thin Mints a few years ago so I had to find a new favorite.) This was very sweet of him... mmm... sweet like cookies, but I probably won't see him until Friday. My sweet tooth will not wait patiently until Friday. So, I decided to stalk every grocery store in a 10 mile radius of my house. Finally, today, I found a grocery store with small girl children and cookie boxes. Yay! While I stood in line waiting for my turn, I calculated how many boxes I could justify without having to make an extra trip to the gym.

Then something tragic happened... they were out of Samoas! I panicked and asked for anything chocolate. Nadda. All they had left was some sort of shortbread bullshit. Trying to avoid a string of expletives in front of the children I bit my lip. It bled. And let me tell you, blood tastes nothing like the perfection of vanilla cookies coated in caramel, sprinkled with toasted coconut and laced with chocolate strips. Nothing!

Column Naming Contest

So I still haven't come up with a name for my column, and it goes to layout on Monday. I'm stuck and begging you all for help.

Here's the deal. Comment or email me any ideas and if there's one I end up using I'll shower you with caffeine... a Starbucks gift card. Fair enough?

The column will be about local pop culture, entertainment and me of course. The names the "IN" kids have tossed around are "In Her Words" and "That's What She Said." So I'm stuck using one of those if you guys can't come up with something better. Please, oh please come up with something better.

Arlo already suggested "Tramp Rant." While I appreciate the fact one of my best male girlfriends is calling me a tramp I don't think the folks at the newspaper would go for it.

Ready? Set? GO!

Klutz Inside

If there’s any one talent I hold it’s the ability to make a complete fool out of myself at any given moment. If that and sarcasm were an Olympic sport I would rock the gold. I’m completely self-taught. I only admit this because it reflects poorly on my mother when I fall down the same stairs on a weekly basis. She did teach me to walk. Though I am the one who felt the need to walk, talk, boss people around and text message all at the same time. No wonder I fall down a lot.

I’m used to looking like a fool. I’ve been doing it for quite some time--On my own, without any help from others.

So for example if we dated a few times and now work in the same building there is no need to make me look stupid, because chances are I’ve already done that on my own by walking down the hall with toilet paper stuck to my shoes. Twice. In one day.

Trust me, I’ve got the “looking like a buffoon” thing covered. So really there is no need to hang a column I may or may not have written about you for your co-workers to see, causing them to look at me with pity and loathing. Frankly, I’d much rather they dislike me because I accidentally shut the elevator doors on their foot, or knock them over when I trip on nothing in the hall way.

What I’m saying is I don’t need any help looking like an ass. Ever.

In Utah This Week, Issue #95

Here is the final column of "The Dating Years." Yup, my reign of Salt Lake's Tragic Dater is now over. Whew. It's been fun, but I'm really happy to be done. Now I can date because I want to and not because I'm getting paid to. Yippee!

How many minutes until Friday?

It's Tuesday and my body is still sore as hell. Sports are hard.

I made The Kid go to lunch with me today. He hated it 43% of the time. Hate is good for you, like protein.

Wondering if the bruises all over my legs will fade so I can wear a skirt to the symphony with The Yuppie. If not he has an excellent back up plan: I will be Kristen and he will be Client #9. His profession may be the epitome of boring,but he is not.

My iPhone is no longer the bane of my existence. It may lock up occasionally but if that's the price I must pay to have Hello Kitty on it, so be it.

I've been with my new company for three months and I only remember the names of ten people. Much like sports, names are hard.

I have a new column debuting next week with In Utah This Week and have yet to come up with a proper name. This stresses me out. I told you, names are hard!

I went; I smiled; I survived!

Gloria Gaynor has nothing on me--I did survive! Although, bruised and humiliated, but that's a given anytime I leave the house.



For a less "Fuuuuu-ck" filled video clip go here. And to see the very bruised and swollen damage go here.

Daily Gems

1) Just because it tastes good in a restaurant doesn't necessarily mean it will taste good at home unless you actually know how to cook. I don't.

2) Reusable grocery bags are useless when left in the car. They are however, handy for helping to carry groceries inside the house.

3) Childless grown men milling around the Easter Bunny at the mall are just plain creepy. Avoid at all costs, or get their phone number for Maddie.

Sweet, Sweet Revenge

When news of Patrick Swayze's cancer broke I created a shrine on The Kid's desk. He was less than pleased--he's way too young to remember the importance of Dirty Dancing. To this day I still find ways to fit in as many quotes from the movie into daily conversation as possible.

The Kid retaliated, and did a mighty fine job of it! Looks like nobody puts The Kid in a corner.
As a reward for such great humor I'm not going to boss him around, or read useless Hollywood gossip to him for five whole minutes.

Mountain Bound

After years and years of excuses I’m finally going to learn to snowboard this weekend. As an ex-instructor Mrs. AK has happily agreed to teach me. Being married to AK has given her enough patience that I feel comfortable with her having the patience it will take to teach a klutz like me. Plus she promised we could drink wine afterwards.

I’m still planning on being very allergic to snow, and the cold. Which is why Mrs. AK carefully chose the warmest weekend possible to go. She knows me well.

Why this year? Truthfully I've run out of valid excuses.

1994-2000 Too scared of heights to be bothered.
2001 Too cheap to spend the money.
2002 Busy finding excuses to avoid the Olympics
2003 Washing my hair. All Winter long!
2004 Sundance.
2005 Kidney stones for Christmas and a new relationship kept me too busy.
2006 The great ear infection of ’06 was enough of an excuse.
2007 Not working and couldn’t justify spending the money.

My goal is zero injuries. Wish me luck! I'll most certainly need it.

The Bathroom Has Eyes

I detest public restrooms. The idea of communal germs completely freaks me out. My mother passed this fear down to me as a small child, producing an adult germ freak much like herself.

In addition to my germ phobia I have a wild imagination, so you can imagine my horror when I was faced with using this bathroom at a friend's office. Needless to say I didn't. I would have peed my pants before letting creepy heads watch me taking care of business.

In Utah This Week, Issue #94

This week's "The Dating Years."

BFF Night

Mrs. AK, and I force Arlo to have BFF nights with us once a week. These nights consist of Arlo attempting to whip a little something up in the kitchen. When Arlo bakes with us around there is always an incident. Remember the MSG cookies? While the baking is happening Mrs. AK and I drink red wine and heckle him. It's a bonding experience we all enjoy.

Sometimes I worry that Arlo feels left out because he doesn't drink wine. To alleviate this I always take a swig off his Diet Coke, leaving enough wine backwash to give anyone a good buzz.

Yesterday at the drugstore while loading up on Vitamin C I found a way he can share in on the red wine fun without partaking of my germ loaded saliva. Also proving I am a caring friend who wants him to reap the benefits antioxidants provide. In one simple purchase I've proven myself as an loving friend who cares about the longevity of a friend's life.

News of Importance

Things in today’s news I don’t care about:

American Idol contestant previous life as a stripper
If the movie "Juno" has taught us anything previous strippers are like totally talented. Besides, I hate this show. As much as Sabby wants me to watch it and like it, I won't. Ever.

Brett Favre retires from NFL
Who, what? Huh?

Eddie Van Halen has medical tests
It’s a miracle the dude is still alive anyway. Let me know what it's a good aging rock star, then I'll care.

Things in today’s news I do care about:

Paris Hilton gives away diamonds on street
As always I have a love/hate relationship with Paris. Either way I’d accept diamonds from her. In the street or in bed. I’m not picky when it comes to jewels.

Avalanche on Mars
I care because it’s a given at some point AK will want to discuss and I’ve found it’s so much easier to take part in the conversation rather than picturing in my mind different ways to sneak out of the room without anyone noticing. Dude has a planet fetish. Once again proving it’s a miracle he ever scored a babe like Mrs. AK.

Drunk Three Year Old
Yeah, that sucks. Why waste liquor on a kid that can’t even appreciate it? Send it to me. I’ll appreciate it enough to send them a lovely thank you card in the mail.


I think it’s time to re-evaluate what I feel is important.

I am Kayak... Hear me Roar

I'm feeling much better today. I went back to work, and it didn't completely suck. Sure, I wanted to be back in bed, but the social aspect was good. I fear The Kid had no one to entertain him, or boss him while I was out and may have been bored. He can pretend he didn't miss me, but I know the truth.

Tonight, however, you wouldn't know I was feeling better. I'm in the same cozy corner on the couch, wearing practically the same uniform of flannel pajama pants, pink fuzzy slipper sock and a Neil Diamond shirt. Though, this version is clean, and less contaminated with death flu germs. I'm snuggled under the same, also newly laundered, blanket watching more Gilmore Girls reruns while reading news sites on my laptop. I should be out celebrating the fact I'm a death flu survivor at the pub with friends, but frankly I can't muster the energy. I'd much rather enjoy the witty banter of my all-time favorite show and long for the days when Midge and I would snuggle in bed with a bottle of red wine while watching, and yell at one another for talking during any dialogue.

Perhaps Arlo would enjoy the show. I use the term enjoy loosely, because he won't, but he also doesn't enjoy Rock of Love and still tolerates it for the sake of shutting me up. And if he refuses I'll use guilt. He's religious, so clearly he responds well to such tactics.

How to Ruin a Perfectly Good Clooney Cover:

Finally Feeling Better

You'd think Daisy would be thrilled I'm feeling better so she doesn't have to share the couch, but here she is on my side of the couch waiting to lay by me. All together now... "ahhhhh." Really, I think she just likes watching Gilmore Girls, but then who doesn't?

The Extent of my Day

The Bird Flu Ruined my Week

The last time I felt this horrible was when I had kidney stones three years ago and spent Christmas in the ICU. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t all that bad. Midge brought movies and cuddled in bed with me. The pain was somewhat tolerable with a Morphine drip. However, once I started seeing the face of Jesus in the wallpaper I made them take it out. Talk about ruining a good time.

My body has never handled germs of any kind very well. I’m a chronic puker. When I was in high school a doctor accused me of being bulimic when, after a case of Mono, I couldn’t stop throwing up for weeks. My mother in her prime mama bear days got angry with the doctor and reminded him I’ve had a weak stomach since I was a very tiny baby. As a nurse, she was always very involved when I was sick. Perhaps that’s why, at 32, the minute I feel sick I want my mom taking care of me. And if I asked she’d drop everything and drive two hours to get here, just to rub my back or get me a drink of Gatorade. Since it’s my dad’s birthday tomorrow I’m not asking her to drive up. After all, he only has a birthday every four years.

What I thought was a cold is a full-fledged case of the bird flu—self-diagnosed of course. Sure, I get flu symptoms with a minor headache, but this is beyond ridiculous. I can’t even keep a sip of water down. Not to mention, every part of my body hurts, even my eyebrows. Which is all very inconvenient given that I had a math midterm tonight and a Lost party to attend.

I promised my mom if I wasn’t feeling better tomorrow I’d go in and have then hydrate me with an IV, but until then I’m going to lay on the couch, continue to whine, watch trash TV and remind myself over and over what the silver lining of being sick is...

SKINNY JEANS!

Obviously, I'm going to look really good after this "diet" helps me fit back into them.

Doogie Howser got me high!!

I’m sick, and it’s all Ben’s fault. I’ve not had a cold or flu all winter. With the small exception of food poisoning inflicted by Arlo, I’ve been completely healthy.

Like a good sister I picked Ben up from the airport Sunday and gave him a ride home. He coughed the entire time and spewed his disgusting boy germs all over my car.

I started feeling gross yesterday, and then woke up this morning with a fever and coughing so hard I puked. Awesome. It was obvious I was Instacare bound. Ben called to see which one I was going to so we could meet there. The jerk is still sick. I told him where to go, but he never showed. Is he OK? Who cares. Part of me was hoping he had overdosed on NyQuil. Not because I don’t love him, but because he totally deserves it.

After waiting an hour in the lobby, my name was finally called--music to my insanely clogged ears. Another wait in the room and finally a doctor arrives. And by doctor I mean Doogie Fucking Howser, MD. Young doctors before have seen me but this was ridiculous—he looked like he was in high school.


"Bad news, Sarah. Looks like you don't have strep throat."

"Um, why would that be bad news? I didn't really want it."

"Strep we could have treated. This particular funk you've got can't be treated. I can, however, give you a prescription of codeine pills to ease the pain a bit."

"Pills? Can't I just get some cough syrup? I think with my throat this swollen I won't be able to swallow pills."

"Unfortunately there's a shortage on codeine syrup, so pills will have to do. Try crushing them in ice cream."

"Ohhhh, is that what your mom does, too?"

He glared at me. I'm guessing he gets wisecracks about his age all the time. Quite honestly, I was just excited at the prospect of ice cream. I swore off ice cream a few months ago and was very much looking forward to having a reason to buy some.

"Go home, load up and get as much sleep as possible. You should feel better in a few days."

Maybe having a young doctor isn't all that bad. Loading up sounds just like what I need. And who am I to defy a doctor's orders? Exactly.

In Utah This Week, Issue #93

This week's installment of "The Dating Years."

Lunch... The Most Humiliating Meal of the Day

When I started working for a company only ten minutes from home, I was thrilled. Finally, I could start going home a couple of times a week for lunch--what a great way to save money for my jean habit!

And it was great, for the first couple of weeks anyway. After which things took a turn for the worse--I blame the writers strike. They took away my “good” TV habits and forced me into a reality TV addiction. I’ve despised reality television ever since Julie, the Mormon BYU student, cried in what felt like every single episode or The Real World. The only exception was when Mrs. AK started watching Project Runway. As a rule of thumb when your host is feeding you dinner you watch what she is watching without complaint. (Yes, Arlo, that's directed at you.)

But suddenly, with nothing decent on primetime TV, I found myself watching Rock of Love, The Hills, and Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant religiously.

When I go home for lunch I watch my trash TV while eating my lunch. Yesterday, however, I hit my breaking point. With a weekend to catch up on my shit shows, I was left with nothing but daytime television to accompany my lunch. I found myself watching Full House reruns. Yes, seriously. And let me tell you, they are just as stupid now as they were then. Uncle Jesse is still the only reason to watch the show, and frankly I remember him being sexier. I guess this is further proof that cheesy writing can ruin anyone’s sex appeal.

On my drive back to work, I vowed to stop watching lunchtime TV and start reading. It’s not like I don’t have enough books at my house, not to mention a growing list of books to buy. At a red light I reached into my pants pocket for my earlier written grocery list to add a book or two while I was thinking about it. Only there wasn’t a grocery list, there was instead a movie ticket and bar receipt. Odd. Upon closer inspection I found I wasn’t wearing the pants I had on earlier.

Another thing about going home lunch is the minute I walk into my apartment I feel the need to shed my pants and shoes as quickly as possible. I have got to start paying closer attention to details... like clothing. Otherwise I could easily end up back at the office in pajama pants.

Carter is Fired

My brother, Matt, called me yesterday. He rarely calls me, typically his wife is the one who calls. Despite being out to dinner with my other brother, Ben, I took the call thinking it may be an emergency.

Matt: "Thought I better call and inform you that your nephew is now a NASCAR fan, and he really wants to go deer hunting."

Me: "That kid is fired! I need a replacement nephew. I liked it much better when Carter liked Dancing with the Stars. Seriously, you and Holli better get knocked up ASAP and give me a different nephew. Or else."

Matt laughed, but little does he know I am not kidding. NASCAR? Unacceptable. I'm not too worried about the deer hunting bit. Carter is such a sweet, sensitive little tyke there's no way he'll grow up and kill animals. He's terrified of my dog, and she's tiny. It would be difficult for him to get close enough to an animal to kill. But this NASCAR thing, is very serious. I HATE IT! His obsession with cars is understandable, he's a boy kid. However, I think the love of cars needs to stop at his race car bed.

Also, spending time with his uncle Ben needs to be limited, and with adult supervision. Otherwise Carter will grow up with a mullet and drink beer in cans. I can't think of anything worse.

Stairs are a Challenge

"Sarah, what happened to your knee? Those bruises are awful."

"I feel down the stairs."

"Again?!"

"I don't think again is necessarily the right word. They were different stairs this time."

"Where?"

"At work. The heel of my shoe got caught on my cuffed jeans and before I knew it I was falling."

"That totally sucks. Did anyone see you?"

"No one that matters, just some asshole that happened to be walking down the stairs too. He moved aside and let me fall."

"What a jerk, have you dated or something?"

"No... not yet."

I'm a Believer

I am considering renewing my faith in Jesus. When Arlo decided to ruin my Friday night plans by getting a date, I did what I do best: I used guilt. When that didn't work I went home and prayed. I prayed to every type of Jesus I could think of: hot Mormon Jesus, dead Jesus, baby Jesus, cross Jesus, resurrected Jesus, carpenter Jesus and every other Jesus imaginable.

And guess what?!

It worked; Arlo's date canceled. Either I'm magic, or there is a Jesus after all. I'm going to investigate further by praying for a skinnier ass, new shoes and a boyfriend. I'll keep you posted.

Reason #8,464 The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints Pisses Me Off:

They send my brothers on missions. Chady-bear turns 20 tomorrow and I can't see him because he's in a foreign country serving God or something. And to make matters worse it's against the rules to phone him.

Daily Reading

It's the little things in life that make me smile--like chasing tail at the office:

Dear Internet,

Please stop emailing me about Hillary Clinton. I read the news; I watch CNN; I refresh my Internet browser OCD style when it comes to news. With that said, I'm fully aware that Obama is rocking the nation. And guess what, dear Internet? That makes me happy.

I don't have to explain my political views to you, but rather than reply to the 42 emails in my in box let me go ahead and do, just that, explain.

I'm a Democrat. A proud one. I grew up in a very conservative Republican home, so unlike some people I know, I picked my political party. I wasn't raised a Democrat. I became one. A choice that I'm very proud of, so don't give me shit.

I think Obama would make a fine president. In fact, I would be thrilled to see him in office. However, I voted for Hillary, because I am a woman. Like many women today, I remember growing up wondering why a woman couldn't be President of the United States.

So, when finally a woman is on the ballot did you really think I'd not vote for her? I mean, really? I'm not a feminist by any means. I like men to do stuff for me. And not just in bed.

This is why I voted for Hillary Clinton, but would be just as happy at to have someone like Obama running our country. He bring passion and not just a last name. Plus his wife is pretty hot.

So back off, would ya?

Love,
Sarah

In Utah This Week, Issue #92

This week's "The Dating Years."

Turning Four

Dear Carter and Hannah,

Happy fourth birthday! The last four years have flown by--you’re growing up too fast. I wish you didn’t live in Utah County, so I could see you more. Twice a month isn’t nearly enough. I feel badly that the only time I see you are when your parents are gone. Remember I'm there because I want to be.

Carter, I’m so happy I didn’t throw you out the window the first time I babysat you. Trust me, I was tempted. You cried so much, more than any baby ever, but my friend Alecia was with me and she talked me out of doing it. You owe Leash your life.

I love you Buddy. More than I ever imagined I could love a small child who likes to play big trucks and wear animals on his clothing. You’ll always be my buddy.

Hannah, you’re everything a little girl should be: cute, pink-loving and spunky. You never stop making me laugh, especially when you attempt to have an adult conversation with me. You use vocabulary just slightly beyond your comprehension, much like your Uncle Ben.

I love you Hannah Gatanna more than the color pink. And you, of all people, will understand that’s a hell of a lot.

I have a Starbucks gift card for both of you in my purse. I couldn’t bother giving it to you on your birthday because Grandma Myrna might have been angry. And I don’t want to anger her. She calls pregnant people fat, so can you imagine what she would do to me if provoked. I’m sure you understand.

I love you two more every single day. You’ve brought our family together in a way that I never expected. I would do anything in the world for you, and would do whatever it took to protect you. You’re the closest things to true love I’ve ever known. Thank you for letting me be your Auntie.

Love, Aunt Sarah

Why the State of Utah Should be Paying for my Therapy Bills

I received a letter in the mail yesterday from the Utah Department of Health. This shouldn’t be a huge deal, but with my imagination and anxiety it was.

I walked into the house and sat on my couch just staring at the ominous white envelope, imagining the very worst. I couldn’t bring myself to open it. Once that letter was open whatever bad news it had to offer would be real.

Was this about the flu shot I stole last year? Some co-workers and I went to the offices next to ours and pretended to be employees, when they were offering flu shots free. I talked myself out of thinking it was wrong when my very Mormon friend, Kirk, didn’t seem bothered by it. If there was a place in Mormon heaven for him, then surely I wasn’t going to end up in hell over this one little thing.

There was that sketchy boyfriend with all the tattoos from my early 20s. With that much body art it’s entirely possible he contracted some fatal disease from a tainted needle. I haven’t heard from him in years—he could be dead for all I knew. At this point I felt numb all over.

Numb extremities are never a good sign. After a quick online consult with WebMD I decided I was dying. Diabetes was the number one search result. My father is a diabetic, and somehow the health department was able to diagnose me before any doctor had. I jumped up and ran into the kitchen. I was bound and determined to eat every last drop of sugar in my apartment before finding out I was indeed a diabetic, and that I was forever banned from sugar.

One zillion calories later I knew it had to be done. Whatever was inside that envelope was something I could deal with. Something I had to deal with. I was ready.

I opened the envelope and found a copy of my birth certificate. That’s riiii-ght, I ordered it online last weekend when I couldn’t find the original.

Now, I have a birth certificate, enough calories to double the size of my ass, and lastly an understanding that while the health department can’t diagnose your insanity, they can certainly be the cause of it.

Country Livin'

I drove to the country for the day to help celebrate my grandpa's 80th birthday. Of course, I had to drive by my old stomping grounds. I saw this and couldn't help but laugh. I wonder how much the prom dates are being sold for. I'd love to get Arlo one for his birthday.

Arlo's Plump Perogies

Valentine's Day dinner looked beautiful on the plate, however, later that night it didn't look so pretty coming back up. It's interesting that no one else got sick from the meal. And by "interesting" I mean ARLO IS TRYING TO KILL ME!

He's got plenty of justifiable reasons to want me dead. In fact, the whole thing is rather ironic. Just yesterday, some friends and I were talking about how much grief I give Arlo. We agreed that if he did indeed kill me, no jury in the world would convict him. I'd like to think the reason he attempted to poison me wasn't necessarily due to the fact I force him to watch bad reality TV with me, or the fact I tease him mercilessly, but because I burned the one portion of the dinner I was in charge of:

Top Ten Reasons to be Single on Valentine's Day:

1) Sleeping in ten extra minutes, because there is no need to shave my legs.

2) My panties and bra don't have to match.

3) I have a reason to listen to the Eels "Love of the Loveless" over, and over all day long.

4) The only flowers in my house are ones I've purchased myself, so there will be no sneezing due to allergies this year.

5) I don't have to wear perfume, unless I want to.

6) No one is going to drag me to a steak house thinking I'll be impressed, and then remember ten minutes into the meal I don't eat steak.

7) The only gifts purchased for the holiday are those for myself.

8) I don't have to try and have dainty girl eating habits at dinner tonight. I can pig out on Valentine's Day candy and no one will care.

10) And best of all, I get to spend the evening with friends watching "Rock of Love" on Tivo. Though, if Arlo meets someone and falls in love within the next eight hours my evening is ruined.

In Utah This Week, Issue #91

This week's "The Dating Years."

Eh?

As it turns out, ignorance really is bliss.

I received some horrible news yesterday. Apparently I’m Canadian. Well, sorta. Not so much me, but my great-great-great grandparents were. This info rocked my world beyond belief. I’ve spent the last 13 years making fun of one of my closest friends, Carmen, for you guessed it--being Canadian.

I feel like such a bitch. A cold, heartless Canadian bitch.

Confessions of a Caffeine Junkie

I’ve been attempting to introduce a new beverage to my diet: water.

Which, I thought, was going well, until I noticed my desk has one diet soda, two coffees and only one bottle of water on it—all from today, I might add.

Want to guess which one is full?

Quote of the Day:

"There is something to be said about dying young and leaving a good-looking corpse. Necrophilia is so much more palatable when you look like Heath Ledger."--The Yuppie

I seriously have the best collection of ex-boyfriends this state has to offer. Now, to keep them all single so we can remain friends always. That's not too selfish, right?

Notes from the Weekend

If your driver license has expired and you’ve been too busy to renew it, bar hopping is a bad idea.

Carpet burns are better on your elbows then face.

Broken toes hurt.

Men from Holland bounce their heads way too much.

When you talk shit on someone and then make your girlfriend stick up for you, you are the one who should be kicked in the baby. Even if you are my brother.

Lemonade and Southern Comfort doesn’t make me barf.

Going Ghetto

Driving into work today I accidentally had my iPod gangsta mix playing. Don't judge me! Actually you can, I certainly would.

My phone rang and I hit speaker and answered it assuming it would be my brother bugging me about his latest prison tool obsession. It wasn't. It was a client. Which is cool, I'm all for the clients I like calling me. Though, I have a feeling she may have a difficult time taking me serious after hearing "Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta" blaring in the background.

Oh well, such is life... you can't win them all.

Netflix is Ruining My Life:

Bangers for Dinner

When Arlo tried to kill himself to avoid making a traditional Canadian meal, Mrs. AK took matters into her own hands. Her British hands.

Last night she prepared bangers and mash for us. I was more than surprised when I actually liked it. Arlo, on the other hand, scoff at his serving. I have no idea why…

For Energy and Laughs

The Kid called me fat today, or not fat. I'm so confused.

We've been passing back and forth a stale granola bar for a week. I had every intention of eating it when I picked it up a couple of weeks ago, and then didn't. I put it on his desk BECAUSE I AM A NICE PERSON! He didn't eat it and put it back on my desk. We soon started adding notes listing reasons why the other should eat it. He suggested I lay off the caffeine and eat it for natural energy. Ha! I then suggested he is young and likely sowing his wild oats and should therefore eat an oat bar.

His latest note is going to be hard to top:

In Utah This Week, Issue #90

This week's "The Dating Years."

Breaking up for Hillary

Sarah: "Are you avoiding my calls because you don’t want to hear me lecture you in the importance of voting today?"

Ben: "No. I already listened to your messages."

Sarah: "Good. Go vote. Also, you should know I emailed your girlfriend today and broke up with her."

Ben: "What?! Why?"

Sarah: "Her Obama shirt… I told her she had a vagina and should use it to vote."

Ben: "Oh man…"

Sarah: "Don’t be mad. She’s the one that said she was torn between Hillary and Obama. She had to either vote for her vagina, or vote for her 'brown' vagina."

Ben: "SARAH!! I really didn’t need to hear that the girl I’m dating and my sister are discussing vagina together. I’m never letting you meet anyone again. I mean it."

Change is in the Air

I almost changed my vote to Obama because Andrew Shue (Billy Campbell) from Melrose Place was backing him, but then I came to my senses and remembered Melrose Place is and never will be Beverly Hills 90210. Since Jason Priestly didn't publicly back a candidate my vote for Hillary Clinton was safe.

It felt good for my vagina and myself to vote for a woman.

Liar, Liar... Stitches on Fire

I've been known to be a tad demanding. My friends and family will be the first to tell you this. I expect a lot from people, it's just the way I was made. I've learned over the years people can often disappoint me. Case in point: Arlo.

I asked Arlo to teach me to make perogies Wednesday night. He happily agreed to my face, but then behind my back he tried to cut own hand off with a dull kitchen knife in order to get out of teaching me. Perhaps he's lazy; perhaps he's trying to avoid seeing me hurt, like last time. Whatever the case, the lad is just so thoughtless and cruel. I don't think five stitches is a good excuse for breaking promises. Ever.

I'm going to peek under his bandages to be sure he's telling the truth. Like I tell my three-year-old niece, Hannah, boys lie AND carry cooties, therefore cannot be trusted.

Spam Mail Lies

I opened the email, and contrary to the promise, I'm still worried.
Mostly about the following:

1) Who will get the Republican nomination.
2) Driving in the snow.
3) Who will get cut on the next Project Runway.
4) How I'm going to pass my math class.
5) If my bread pudding burn is going to scar.
6) Why my bank about never seems to have a surplus of cash.
7) If yellow tail shiraz is still on sale.
8) If Arlo is going to kick me out of life for making fun of his middle name.

You know important stuff.

A Lesson in Love

Ben called when I was picking up the kids from the daycare last week. After discussing whatever weird thing was on his mind that day, I handed the phone to the kids so they could say hello.

When Hannah was on the phone I said, "Make sure you tell Uncle Ben you love him." She looked at me in complete disgust and said, "No, Sarah, love with boys is gross! But when you get married love is OK, and it's not gross anymore."

She handed me back the phone and left Ben and I to discuss how weird our family is. Even the kids.

Chocolate: The Naughty Treat

I think the universe is telling me to go on a diet. Which sucks because Arlo has promised me I can drown my sorrows in his chocolate, I suppose that’s as naughty as he can be without pissing his bishop off. He’s already skating on thin ice with his God for being friends with me at all.

After an especially crummy day a friend came over to have some dinner and watch the debates. We called to order a pizza and were told they were closed for an hour and to call back. No biggie, it was worth the wait since they have wheat crust. An hour later I called back and was told they were filming a movie and would be closed all night.

Bummer.

We then ordered Chinese food online from Sam Pan, because it’s easier than speaking to actual human beings. An hour and a half later I called to see why our food hadn’t arrived. They didn’t have our order. Stupid technology. Growing moodier by the second I re-ordered and was promised it would arrive in one hour. Thirty minutes later they called and had trouble processing the credit card because it was one number short. We went through the order again.

One hour and fifteen minutes later I had food. It’s never taken three hours to get food to my apartment. Clearly the universe thinks I’m fat and is throwing hints my way. The universe is an ass, but I get the hint and will hit the gym this weekend. When I’m done eating Arlo’s chocolate, of course.

Shaking it for Baby Jesus

It was a rough night last night. It started when I couldn't drive up my brother's semi-steep driveway due to massive amounts of snow, immediately followed with forgetting the garage code.

When we finally got into the house the alarm went off. I couldn't get it to stop and Carter immediately started to cry. Followed by Hannah yelling because Carter wouldn't stop crying. Ten very loud minutes later I convinced the alarm company I wasn't there to harm the children, because if so, I wouldn't have done it already.

I knew there was only one thing that would cheer the little buggers up: "Baby Got Back."

And it so, so did: The fact the kids now know the word horny guarantees I'll never be asked to stay overnight with the kids again. It was totally worth it.

Another iPhone Enthusiast

Of course I told him, "Hell no! Get a job and buy your own."

Super-who?

"Aunt Sarah, Baby Jesus is incredible."

"What makes his so incredible?"

"Because he lives in outerspace and flies here to grow up."

"Hannah I’m not good on this whole religion thing, but that sounds a lot more like Superman to me."

"Who?"

In Utah This Week, Issue #89

The Yuppie strikes again--click here to read this week's "The Dating Years."

January Shopping

I found my Victoria's Secret swimsuit catalog on the ground in the snow, rather than in my locked mailbox. I suspect my postal carrier is just as disgusted about delivering this particular seasonal catalog in a snowstorm, as I am about receiving it. I think it's safe to assume my postal carrier is a woman.

Letter to Missionary Brother #10

Dear Chadybear,

Thanks for your guilt-ridden letter. Is Mom there with you? I thought writing a lot of letters was a good thing. Little did I know you actually want them in a timely manner. For the record I’m not trying to save stamp money, I’m just lazy about going to the post office. I’ll be better. Maybe.

The new job is great. One of the guys (read: kid) I work with reminds me of you. Because of that I give him as much shit as often as possible. I’m pretty sure he hates it just like you always did, which only encourages me. He’ll get used to it eventually.

I read the part of your letter to Ben where you said you were sad you didn’t spend more time with us because and that we shouldn’t grow up before you get home. Ummm, we agreed and you have nothing to worry about. I’m glad you’re finally accepting our weird humor. Was it the Jesus Band-Aids that paved the way?

I’m sorry you got stuck on the same mission with that Plumb kid from home. He seems like an uptight little prick so it makes sense the holy toast kit we sent you offended him. Tell him to get over it. I know he sucks but try and get along with him. Oh my god, that was way too tender sister for me. How about this advice: just don’t punch him.

So your prophet died. It’s only been a day and I’m already tired of hearing people say it’s sad. It’s really, really not. He was 97. It’s taken over the news completely, as you might imagine. Totally annoying!

Oh and Chady… when you ask for contraband items you need to specify, otherwise you’re going to get porn and fireworks.

Love,
Sissy

I'm hated. Or had.

When harassing people through text messaging please remember spelling is key. Otherwise the recipient (me, in this case) is left scratching their head in wonderment.

In which I steal Arlo's word

I met the girl Ben has been dating last night.

In the past I've never really liked any of the girls he's introduced me to. Essentially it's the same girl over and over, just with a different name. The new girl, K, was nothing like the others. She had personality, style, and wasn't nervous around me. In the past that's been a problem. Ben claims the others have always been intimidated by me, but I think that's a bullshit excuse for having zero personality.

K easily won me over in two simple acts: 1) she remembered what I wanted from Starbucks when Ben couldn't, and 2) she pulled a flask out of her purse five minutes into the Sundance movie we were seeing.

In the reality show of Ben's life. I vote K all the way.

The Healing Power of Vodka

Sundance rocked my world last night. Unfortunately, not in a good way.

I went to the SLC screening of Henry Poole is Here, thanks to The Yuppie, who at the last minute he was unable to attend. In an attempt to stick to my Sundance theme I took another ex. Little did I know the Gods of Sundance already had that covered. Sitting down I saw a man I dated years ago who I had very much cared for.

In one room I had two men who not only broke my heart, but stomped a version of the Cha-cha-cha on it. Well, if either of them could dance. Which they can't.

Despite too many memories in one room without the coping help of an IV drip of vodka, I was able to concentrate on Luke Wilson's hotness. Which in a way, was a small triumph for me. The unexpected ex was an undying fan of all things Wilson.

During the closing credits I planned my exit strategy. Typically, I don't mind running into men I once dated, but the thought of these two particular men meeting made my skin crawl.

Tonight is the final night I'll be attending films, and as much as I have enjoyed seeing fims I'll be thrilled for the festival to end. My heart and I need some time alone. With, of course, above mentioned vodka.

"In Utah This Week" Issue #88

Click to read the newest column of "The Dating Years."

Rock of Sarah

Bret Michaels is coming for me! Or Arlo. Either way... awesome!

Venting Session Update

Winter: still here. Still sucks. Silver lining: great reason to buy cute coats and boots.

Burn: still hurts. Silver lining: Barbie Band-Aids!

Construction: Still loud. Silver lining: ______!

Math: Pissed about having to install Windows on my computer, but thankful for friends who offer great advice. Silver lining: own a cool new computer with plenty of space for installation.

In other news, it’s one day closer to the weekend! And the weekend brings two birthday parties. Neither of which are for me, but both are great guys who are smart enough to know to provide wine and chocolate cake, right?

Venting Session

I’m in a bad mood today. While I don’t have one specific reason, I have dozens that would suffice. Though for the sake of your sanity, I’ll list the top four.

Winter: I’m so over it! I’m sick of being cold; I’m tired of wet shoes and pants; I’m annoyed there is no decent parking because of snow drifts the size of my car.

Construction: The office suite next to mine has been in a state of construction for what feels like an eternity. It’s loud; It’s distracting; It’s dirty; It’s loud; I can’t walk down the hall without having someone in my way and also being in their way; Oh, and it’s LOUD!

Burns: I have a burn on my hand from attempting to make bread pudding. DISASTER! This was over a week ago and the burn is only getting worse. And yes, I’m applying Neosporin ALL THE TIME, but it’s still getting worse. I suspect I contracted a flesh eating disease from either a) the construction disaster or b) God.

Math class: Really, do I need to explain this? The fact I can’t log into the class because I own a Mac computer. How can an institution of higher education not have a system in place for both a Mac and PC. Totally and completely fucking retarded. I can say fuck, I’m in a bad mood. In fact, I can yell it loudly, but you wouldn’t hear me because of the construction.

And yes, Mom, I know you raised me better, but frankly fuck being raised better.

Turning into my Mother Part 942

For the past couple of days I’ve been searching for the Netflix movie I need to return with no luck. I gave up and emailed them to see what the cost for replacement would be. In a bad mood I went to the fridge for treats and instead found this:

Sundance Strangers

"Arlo, will you sit there? I don't want to sit by a stranger."

"Sarah, that's not a stranger that's Ross. He's with us."

"He is? I don't know him."

"Yeah, you do. You've met him a couple of times."

"Ohhh, was he the one dressed like a woman for Halloween?"

"Yes... a geisha."

"Okay, then I definitely don't want to sit by him."

Let the Dancing Begin

My first Sundance movie is tonight. Let the festival begin!

I just hope Arlo doesn’t let me fall if/when I slip on the ice this year. Last year when it happened I was nice about it. This year that won’t be happening.

I’ll punch him.

Hard.

Precious Cargo

Working full-time, going to school full-time and making time to watch Snoop Dogg’s Father Hood doesn't leave me with a whole lot of free time. Fitting in daily tasks such as grocery shopping, sleeping and working out has been a challenge.

Yesterday, while lunching with a co-worker, we decided to try and fit in a liquor store run. The weekend is nearly upon us and I was completely out of wine. Unacceptable. The trip was a complete success; my favorite Shiraz was on sale. Getting into his car to head back to work I heard my mother’s nagging “Buckle-up, Sarah, safety first.” So I did.

A couple of blocks from the office a SUV next to us forgot to check lanes before moving over. (Is it really that difficult?) The vehicle nearly hit us and it was that moment I realized I’d buckled the wrong seat belt.

Religious Drinking

I use Google Reader for my RSS feeds, so rarely use the live bookmarks I set up ages ago. Last night, however, I wanted to check my email quickly while reading CNN, so I clicked it. In Google Reader I tend to focus on who sent the email, not the subject line. After seeing these, I realize, that is totally unacceptable. I miss out on Lamanite drinking and naughty Santa games.

Now with more Jitters

The building manager must read my blog. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for this heat I feel coming from the vents.

After a month of complaining and one day of blog bitching, it’s finally fixed. Which really makes me regret the three pairs of socks I’m wearing, and the triple dose of cold medicine I took in expectation of ending up ill.

It’s probably short-lived, but I plan to enjoy every second of it. Sweet, sweet heat, how I love thee.

A Sweet 78

The building manager of my office is a heat Nazi. I'm a wuss when it comes to the cold, but when even my clients are complaining, there's definitely a problem. When asked today why the AC was on he replied, "That it is warm and sunny outside." BASTARD!

So this will be the extent of my evening:

Taking Pigskin to a New Level of Weird

Sarah: "Hey, I'm going to meet the punk rock kids at the bar to watch the Patriots game. Do you want to come?"

Ben: "I can't, I'm watching Silence of the Lambs and the game here."

Sarah: "Um, why?"

Ben: "I'm comparing the two. Hannibal Lecter and the Patriots have lots in common. Hannibal likes to tease his victims and take his time, just like the Patriots."

Sarah: "I'll never understand why girls like you. I know you're a cool guy, but you probably come off as the skin-suit kind of guy."

Ben: "Chicks dig the mullet."

Bacon & Blankets

This year for Christmas I gave myself this blanket from Restoration Hardware. It's quite possibly the best blanket in the entire world. I've never had a blanket so soft. I'm positive I'm snuggling under the skinned carcasses of teddy bears. I'm from the country, I'm down with dead animals touching me. As long as they stay away from my digestive system I'm good.

The description on the website says this blanket is "generously sized for cuddling." Which is a big fat marketing lie. I'm not a large girl and there is no way I could fit another person comfortably under this thing. I am selfish with my blankets and like to be covered head to toe before allowing my blanket to tough another individual. Any individual, even a dog.

Daisy seems to think just because she is the same color as the blanket, I won't notice her hair all over it. Once I caught her laying on the blanket, I moved it to where she couldn't reach it while I'm gone. This afternoon when I got home she had found the blanket and was sound asleep on it.

Needless to say, I was pissed. This one-eyed dog who can't manage to pour me a glass of wine or anything useful, can find a well-hidden blanket. Dogs would do anything for a good nap, which is way more than even Ben would do for comfort. Unless the blanket smelled like bacon.

Taking Note, Part Three

I am not a morning person. This is a well-known fact among my friends and previous bosses. I cannot function properly until after ten. This sucks for any of the clients I do work for, but...

I've tried everything: going to bed earlier, tripling my morning dose of coffee, massive does of morning meth and still nothing works.

Over the past year I've started turning into my mother by forgetting things right and left. Mornings are by far the worst time for remembering any details. I'm not talking about complicated details, just the basic essential items...like getting dressed. I've left the house and headed to the office in slippers multiple times in the last few months. Luckily it's been cold so I've remembered pants--no one wants a frozen hiney.

As I've mentioned here and here, I've started leaving myself reminder notes on my front door to ensure some things aren't forgotten. Today's is by far the worst of the bunch: If I have to remind myself why I'm leaving the house it might be time to admit defeat and just stay home.

Presidential Pop Stars

I love this post!

It reminds me of the great Hillary Duff incident of ’06.

I was standing in line when the woman behind me commented on my Hillary ‘08 shirt, “Oh My God, I loooooove Hillary Duff. She’s coming in ’08? That’s so exciting!”

Had she been a kid I’d have gone along with her, but she was a middle-aged woman. She should have known better. “No, this is a Hillary Clinton shirt. You know the Hillary who isn’t twelve?”

I could have been nicer, I guess, but I was just annoyed since that encounter wasn’t the first. In hindsight, I should have just bought the Duff shirt and been done with it.

In Utah This Week, Issue #86

To read this week's column go here.

Yet Another Break-Up

Dear Robert Redford,

I'm over Sundance and therefore feel like I should break up with you as well. After years of attending I'm not nearly as excited to go as I once was. Ticket prices have doubled since I started attending and actually getting the films you want is nearly impossible. I did, however, get a few good documentaries and a free dose of humiliation. There are ways to prevent this--I'll explain.

When choosing where to place your volunteers never, ever put the hard of hearing at the ticket counter. When you are placing an order and you are asked to repeat the film name over and over until you're yelling it for all to hear it sucks, because undoubtedly the movie will be Good Dicks, causing said elder, female volunteer to blush and you'll look end up looking like a dirty pervert.

Think ahead and also please stop sucking my bank account dry.

Love,
Sarah

Ten Songs for Dry Humping

veryGEORGE! is very bossy. After much prodding on his part I'm finally posting the top songs I'd dry hump to. To read his rules and post go here. I've never been one to keep rules and I'm certainly not going to start now. Since I've not been a teenager in a very long time and I sincerely doubt I've ever dry humped as much as George so I'm only posting ten songs.

Sade--Smooth Operator
How I spent 1996. Enough said.
Guns N' Roses--November Rain
I was sixteen and horny once. In fact, I'm positive this was the song I made out to on multiple occasions in the eleventh grade. Ahhh, the good old days.
Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam
Come on, admit it... we've all had the hots for the Mormon Jesus. Those blue eyes and beautiful blond locks.
Mazzy Star--Fade Into You
Find me someone that doesn't think naughty thoughts during this song and I'll do my best to change that.
I Hope They Call Me on Mission
Clean cut guys in suits are hot. I did my part in corrupting a few over the years.
Ben Folds Five--The Luckiest
I've always loved this song. And fondly remember trying to get my Mormon boyfriend to have sex while listening. I lost.
Heather Nova--Blood of Me
She's totally girl crush hot AND says the fuck word sexier than any female singer alive.
Journey--Faithfully
I don't care that George already used this one. It just breeds teenage humping. I'm pretty sure it was responsible for the great hickey incident of 1993.
Al Green--I'm Still in Love With You
Do I really need to explain this one? Total hump music.
The Sundays--Wild Horses
Sexy, sexy, SEXY!

You'll notice there isn't any recent music on this list because since last year's dry hump incident I've sworn off of it.

Inspiring the Children

My brother, Ben, has always fancied himself a trend setter. Which is complete and utter nonsense to all those who know him, but we just nod our heads and agree because it makes him feel good.

His latest hair "trend" was indeed copied, but my a much younger crowd: our nephew Carter:Who is related and therefore shouldn't count. Besides with Lightning McQueen so popular, what kid wouldn't want a lightening bolt shaved into the side of his head?

Alcoholism Is The New Black

I'm spent. Seriously, 100% exhausted. So much, in fact, I'm thinking about picking up a drug or alcohol "habit" so I can take a vacation at The Betty. I kid, I kid... mostly.

I started a new job recently and it's a bigger challenge than I thought it would be, which is not a bad thing, just exhausting. However, once I get settled I'm sure there will be many entertaining tidbits. For example, riding in the elevator with the wonky-eyed guy and working with a child who enjoys chicken. And pot pies.

But until then, I'm going to bed. Or hitting the bottle.

In Utah This Week, Issue #84

To read this week's column go here!

Sniffing is soooo 2007!

Maddie and I welcomed 2008 by kissing our shared date. He's a very lucky lad even if he does need to be constantly reminded of this. He's laughing because I licked him. As far as personal space violations go I think he had it easy. I'm the one who was sniffed earlier in the evening.

Yes, sniffed.

Drunk people tend to overlook personal space rules, which is normally fine but when my ponytail is picked up and sniffed I tend to get a little creeped out. However, I coped with a bottle of wine and felt much better.

I hope everyone had a great night!

Happy 2008!