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: