You Are All a Bunch of Creeps

I have this handy-dandy thing on here called Stat Counter which, as you probably already know, shows me my daily page views, a map of where people are coming from, and various other interesting tidbits. (Seriously, thing is awesome, if you have a blog I advise getting one immediately: http://www.statcounter.com) One of these tidbits is "recent keyword activity" which lets me know how people are stumbling upon my page. This keyword tracker has alerted me to the fact that ya'll are a bunch of creeps.

I wrote a blog entry a while back titled "I'm freezing my tits off!" because it happened to be really cold in my office that day and I happen to enjoy that phrase. Apparently a lot of other people enjoy Googling that phrase and I learned today that my blog is the first hit on Google should you be the type of person who searches for that sort of thing. And a lot of people search for it. About once a week someone searches "I'm freezing my tits off", "freezing tits", "freeze your tits off" or some other variation on that phrase. But why? What on earth are people looking for? Pictures of cold girls? Ice covered boobies? I'm at a loss.

I've also had a couple of hits on this entry from people searching "Hitler lives". Well, thankfully, no. Hitler does NOT live. He is very much dead and I'm sure we would all like to keep it that way. He's not Elvis! He is dead dead dead dead dead. Hitler BAD.

A lot of people are also apparently very interested in that trashy store on 8th street and MacDougal. Versailles. But I still can't understand WHY. Seriously. LOOK at the place. It's horrific. Please stop searching for it.

And, the most popular search that brings people to my blog is, quite obviously, my name. I'm a little creeped out by the fact that I am being googled AT LEAST once a day. From all over the world. Granted, there could be another Sarah Booz out there (actually, there is. She's in highschool in PA somewhere and her friends will sometimes mistakenly contact me thinking I'm her. "No, no, I'm a college student in New York. I definitely don't sit next to you in Chem class. Please leave me alone."), but I don't think she has a blog. Oh yes. People not only search my name, but also "sarah booz blog" and "sarah booz blogspot" which leads me to believe that they know the site and simply too lazy to type out the full URL. JUST BOOKMARK IT. You are FREAKING ME OUT.

So yeah...if you're stopping by because you know me, or knew me, or whatever, LEAVE A COMMENT. Or use that handy e-mail tool up at the top. Stop being a bunch of creepy lurkers.

UPDATE: Apparently some of these people ARE looking for ice covered boobies. The first image on Google Image Search (safe search OFF of course) is a pair of breasts covered in snow. Knowledge is power, people. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Thank You

Dear Cowgirl Hall of Fame,

Thank you for understanding that crucial period of time between Halloween and Christmas.

Unlike everyone else.

Love,
Sarah

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JUST WAIT ANOTHER WEEK AND A HALF, PEOPLE

I heard a Christmas carol on the radio in my local drugstore yesterday and just about lost it. "Holy shit." I said to the cashier waiting on me. She looked at me like I was crazy. I pointed up to where the sound was coming from and she kind of cocked her head to the side and continued to look at me like I was insane. "They're playing a Christmas carol. On the radio. It's not even Thanksgiving!" She then nodded and handed me my receipt. "But...but..." I stammered and then left, because obviously this girl did not understand how completely WRONG the whole thing was. Christmas carols...before Thanksgiving...You're kidding.

They played the original cartoon version of How The Grinch Stole Christmas on Saturday night. I called my mother immediately.

Me: Mom? MOM! THEY ARE PLAYING THE GRINCH.
Mom: I know. I'm not watching it. I'm at a baby shower and besides, it's before Thanksgiving.
Me: I KNOW. Why are they playing it???
Mom: I'm ignoring it. I'm at a baby shower and it doesn't count.

BECAUSE IT DOESN'T. IT'S TOO EARLY.

I took this picture midday on Halloween:

The employees at the Duane Reade around the corner from my office were literally tearing down Halloween and putting up Christmas ON HALLOWEEN. I love Halloween, please don't let it die out so quickly.

I saw Christmas decorations being arranged well before Halloween at the K-Mart on Astor Place.

Hello? Thanksgiving? Whatever happened to Thanksgiving decorations? Those cardboard and paper turkeys and the pilgrim wall hangings? The paper signs in autumnal colors proclaiming "HAPPY THANKSGIVING!" to your neighbors?

Do they still make hand-turkeys in schools? Or do they skip straight to the construction paper Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Whatever cards?

WHAT ABOUT THE HAND TURKEYS, PEOPLE?

Please, for all of our sakes...don't let the hand-turkey die. Please, please don't do anything Christmassy until after next Thursday. For me. The early xmas is making the Sarah crazy. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Too much hair and what to do with it!

My hair is large and in charge. It is curly, it reacts badly to humidity, and it is capable of some of the worst bedhead you have ever seen in your life. Yet, when I was about 18, I managed to straighten it every day. The fact that it was short probably helped, but still, how did I have so much time? I've gone through a couple of phases where I wanted to deny the fact that what my hair really wants to do is this:And I should probably just let it.

While I KNOW this, and I know my hair is dry and in need of a good deep conditioning treatment, and probably a haircut or six, the idea of straightening my hair still pops in there once in a while. Just to try something different every now and then. The only problem with this is that, without fail, this little idea pops into my head when it's raining, or humid, or some other sort of hair destroying weather (100 degree heat comes to mind here). I think that the second my hair realizes that it will not even begin to do what I want it to it sends messages to my brain telling me I should straighten it. That's right, I believe my hair has a mind of its own.

Look, if it's capable of sprouting a grown man out of it, it's capable of anything.

Speaking of curly hair, for those of you out there who have it and are confused about what to do with it, here is some simple advice:

1) Use shampoo and conditioners specifically marketed for curly hair. I like Pantene's version myself. It really does make a difference.

2) DO NOT BRUSH YOUR HAIR after you get out of the shower. I'm serious. Brush it before you get in the shower and run your fingers through it while conditioning it. Then leave it the hell alone.

3) Stop using gel and hairspray. It is not the 90s anymore (as much as I long for them sometimes), step away from the Dep. Instead, try a finishing cream. My favorite is Tresemme Anti-Frizz Secret.

Turn off the water in your shower, flip your head a couple of times to get the excess water out, and wrap it in a towel for the amount of time it takes you to brush your teeth and shave your armpits. (For those of you who do not do these things when you get out of the shower, then keep the towel on for 3-5 minutes) Then:
A) Gently remove the towel
B) Put a little cream in your hands and smooth it over your head, top to bottom. Do NOT run your fingers through it.
C) Put a little more cream in your hands and flip your head over. Then scrunch, gently all around your head.
D) Flip hair over to one side of your head and scrunch again.
E) Repeat on other side of head.
G) Let air-dry
H) KEEP YOUR DAMN PAWS OFF OF IT.

After all that?

Voila!

(The Cigar is optional)

Curls!

And if all that fails? Look, ponytail holders are out there for a reason, there's no need to fry your hair beyond recognition. Embrace the curls! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

California Dreaming

I survived the crazy family tour, but not unscathed.
The first stop was Seth's mom's house, where we ate homemade corn chowder and sour-dough rolls fresh out of the oven. Seth's mother presented me with a gift, which caught me off guard in that "Shit. Was I supposed to get YOU a gift too?" kind of way. Betsey Johnson socks which were adorable and saved my butt because it was a lot colder out there than I was expecting it to be. We woke up the next morning and bummed around the house for a bit before heading out to Grandma and Grandpa's where I was presented with another gift. (DAMMIT) Grandpa's not as young as he used to be and originally thought Seth was somehow his great grandchild. Once he got over that he was pretty easy going and took me aside to make sure I was a reader and to show me the books he likes. I was thankful that I had a book on me so I was able to go, "Yes! Definitely a reader! Look! I have a book right here! That I am reading! Because I like to read!" Ahem....not to sound over eager or anything...um...yeah.

We managed to convince Grandma and Grandpa to come back to Seth's mom's house for dinner, but took a detour on the way home. Grandma has a thing for discounts and decided to present her favorite grandsons with day old bread. A LOT of day old bread. So we stopped by the duck pond where we were LITERALLY ATTACKED BY RABID DUCKS. No, seriously...check it:They marched out of the water as soon as we arrived and surrounded us:

Seth, his brother and I threw bread at each other and got to feel the curious sensation of ten ducks pecking our toes. I wouldn't advise it.

Seth's mom made a delicious beef stew for all of us, which I ate a lot of, impressing parents and grandparents alike with the size of my appetite. Hooray for being a fatty!

The next day the three of us headed out to Seth's dad's house where I almost murdered my boyfriend. You see, Seth had mentioned that he grew up in a big house his father built, and that a lot of people had docks in their back yards. What I pictured was an old beachfront community, or lake houses or something. What I was not picturing was a GATED FUCKING COMMUNITY. With a golf course next door and palm trees. I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR THIS AT ALL. Seth's brother and I were outside talking a little while after we arrived when a covered golf cart went by, followed almost immediately by a teenager on a four-wheeler. It was at that point that I collapsed onto the grass and had to lie down for a little bit.

When Seth showed me around the house and got to the room his father and step-mother had converted into a movie theatre I beat the crap out of him. "OW! You're acting like I have an ex-wife and two kids!"
"This" punch. "is pretty much" punch punch punch. "the same" punch punch "to" punch. "me." punch punch punch punch punch. "Asshole."

Please check out the view from the guest bedroom balcony:

I can't get the picture to turn, but you get the general idea.

Oh, and please note that the balcony is bigger than my bedroom.

Dude could have said SOMETHING, you know?

There was only one major foot in mouth moment when I decided to tell Seth's father, the pastor, about the time my father draped himself in snakes and told the Jehovah's witnesses that we worshipped Satan in our house. Um...oops.

After visits with all the step siblings and their kids and some burritos (HOLY WEST COAST BURRITO, BATMAN), we headed to San Francisco to chill out and hang out with friends. It was very nice to be able to not worry about what was coming out of my mouth for a little while. I also met that friend that I was scaaaaaaaared of meeting. She was not as scary as I thought she would be and even gave me a hug!

So all in all it was a good trip. And I'm happy that the meet the family part is out of the way, but wish we had more time in SF with friends. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Oh Right

And this



Try getting it out of your head.

Also?

YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

I know, I know.

I posted this before.




But we COULD. And we DID. And that is AMAZING.

Holy shit, guys...we DID IT. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!! Or "Liveblogging from Greenwich Village"

People are screaming, whooping and hollering in the streets. Horns are honking. Strangers are high-fiving and smiling at each other. There are shouts of "OBAMA!!!!" coming from taxis, apartments and bars.


I can not begin to explain how different this feels from the last election. People are HAPPY. No one is drinking whiskey and mourning.

So this is what history feels like. I love it. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Vote Vote Vote Vote...Voted!

My right to vote was taken away during the last election.

I knew I was going to be in Portland for election day, so I applied for an absentee ballot in late September and was assured I wouldn't have any problems. A week before the election, when my ballot had still not arrived, I called the New York State Board of Elections and was once again assured that my ballot would turn up in time for the election. Finally, the day before the election I called again and told them that, no, I had still not received my ballot and what the hell was going on here?

They basically told me that I was shit out of luck.

After the election had passed and New York had (thankfully) gone blue, I found out that just about everyone else I knew who had applied for an absentee ballot that year had never received it.

That's just screwed up.

So I just voted in my first presidential election and it felt good. And tomorrow I go to CALIFORNIA!

I lent Seth my little rolling suitcase that I've used for all my trips this year thinking I had another one and forgetting that Dusty had taken it. So now I'm heading out with a GIGANTIC suitcase which will end badly because I am the mother of all over packers. Especially when I'm nervous and don't know what to wear for any given occasion. Enough outfits for a month? Probably. Too many pairs of shoes? Check. (I once brought ten pairs of shoes, including heels, to a seven day trip to my grandmother's house. My grandmother lives in a cobble-stoned and very steep village in France. There is no way in hell I would be wearing heels there. Ever.)

On top of all that I'm going to get my period this week (and you were wondering why this post was tagged "TMI" HAH!) which means, because I am reaaaaaaaally paranoid, I will also be bringing just about every pair of underwear I own. Because I am out of my damn mind.

And now we wait for the results to come in.

It can't go to McCain, can it? Could anyone possibly vote for a man who would pick a running mate this stupid?



They just couldn't.

UPDATE: as of 9:30pm it's 174 to 69, and Obama only needs 270 to win.

HELL TO THE YES, PEOPLE! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Seth Saved The Day

And brought me some white paint.It turned out awesome. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves