STOP YELLING AT ME

HI.

I'm the manager of a coffee shop. I'm at work between 6am and 8am six days a week.

I am very tired.

I'm still enjoying the job. I work with cool people, my boss is easy going, and I'm not bad at what I'm doing.

We have a regular who comes in here at least twice a week and I can not, for the life of me, figure out why. Not because this place is awful, it isn't, but because this guy HATES it. And us. Every time he's in here he complains about the service, the quality, and the employees. Yet he CONTINUES to come back when there are a ton of other cafes in the immediate area. It reminds me of this QC strip. We give him something to be mad about for the rest of the day, that must be why he comes back. But I HATE when he's here. He makes me all tense and I have to stop my self from yelling at him. Not fun.

Other than that, nothing is going on. I'm at the cafe right now helping our new employee close up shop, and then I'm going home, going to sleep, and waking up at 4:30am to start all over again.

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

Wow, Okay. It has been a CRAZY month (okay, six weeks, shut up)

Here's the basic rundown:
1 - The internet at my house has been down.
2 - I STILL don't have a computer
3 - I've been running around like a crazy person

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand

4 - I QUIT MY JOB.

After five years, on and off, with the same office I decided it was time to try something new. So I quit...with absolutely nothing lined up.

My last day was set to be September 18th, but they managed to talk me into another four days (I'm a pushover , yes, but they paid me more). My actual final day was Thursday September 24th, which ended with an absolutely ridiculous going away party attended by current coworkers, ex-coworkers, friends, and my mother. That was followed by a day in bed (obviously), which brings us to Saturday. Here's what happened Saturday:

Setting: My childhood bedroom
Time: About 1pm
Mood: Hungover

I'm lying in bed, watching an America's Next Top Model marathon and dreaming of brunch which I suddenly cannot afford, and the phone rings:

Sarah: Hello?
Morgan: HI! Are you still unemployed?
Sarah: Well, yes. It's only been two days.
Morgan: Great! I just got a job at a cafe near my house and they need more people, can you be there at 8am tomorrow?
Sarah: Sure!

I arrived at 8am on Sunday morning, having no idea what to expect, and was immediately put to work making coffee. I don't DRINK coffee. (My former boss tried to teach me how to operate an espresso machine once and I nodded, smiled, and prayed he would never actually ask me to make him one. Which, thankfully, he did not.) I got some training, helped people out, figured out the register, and by noon I was on the schedule six days a week. Starting at six am.

As you can imagine, now that I'm coming off my third day there, I feel relatively jet-lagged. It's the best way to describe it. I'm on my feet all day talking to people face to face, so no longer is it an option to crash in my chair, zone out and hope someone else will pick up the slack should I not get enough sleep. I'm in bed before 10pm and up between 4 and 4:30 in the morning. It's BIZARRE. I'm used to coming at 4am from the other direction, so wandering around at that hour with vision that isn't bleary from drink is pretty interesting.

For the most part I'm really excited about the change. It is completely and totally different from my last job, both in description and hours, and it's pretty fun.

Things I have learned so far:

1)I'm not very good at being unemployed.

2) Getting out of work at 1pm and having the whole afternoon to do whatever I want is AWESOME.

3) Having a job that feeds and caffeinates you is a great money saver, especially when you've taken a substantial paycut.

4) The bus is the safest way to travel at 5am. Yesterday morning I missed the bus I was planning on taking and thought I would take the train instead. I turned around and started to walk to the train when I was stopped by a crackhead (no, a literal crackhead, I'm not just saying that word for fun) who wanted a cigarette. I, stupidly, gave him one and walked away. He started walking in the same direction, so I turned around and started to walk back to the bus stop. At which point he turned around and followed me. At which point I walked by ass off to the nearest 24 hour deli, which locks up and serves customers through a window between 1am and 7am, banged on the door and demanded to be let in. I got in and told the guy working the window to PLEASE give Mr. Crackhead a light. Because by that point I realized that was what he was after. But he scared the SHIT out of me. So it'll be the bus stop across the street from the police station and much closer to my house from here on out thankyouverymuch.

5) How to make espresso. I think. I don't know. The cappuccino like thing I made for Morgan this morning was good. Or so she said. Dude, I have no idea. I don't touch the stuff.

6) Our iced tea is caffeinated. I'm a little twitchy right now. Oops. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

And it pleases me to have you here for just a little while

I will write about my trip (which was AMAZING) once I get some pictures off my camera. In the meantime, I want to talk about something else.

I spent four summers in the Adirondacks at a place called Camp Regis Applejack, or CRAJ for short. My thirteenth through sixteenth birthdays were spent there being incredibly awkward and LOVING every second of it.

Behold the awkward

At the end of every summer I sobbed. Sobbed uncontrollably as we loaded into the busses and I returned home hating my friends because they could no longer understand a word I said. "MOCHEEZMO" meant nothing to them, as it means nothing to most of you. THEY didn't know the entire score of RENT, nor were they able to do duets of "Light My Candle" with me. They didn't understand any of my inside jokes or the wonder that is Donnelly's Ice Cream.* So I did what we all did, and I hiked the shit out of my parent's phone bill.

Oh my GOD. We would spend hooooooooours on the phone. Filling each other in on gossip we had heard on our last four hour phone call to another state, or reminicing, or just speaking in what was essentially our own language. We wrote letters, we mailed packages, we visited each other...we were never out of touch for more than a couple of weeks.

And we returned to camp after our countdowns had reached zero (A lot of us had countdowns. Mine were kept in the margins of my notebook and on my left hand.) We would double check the numbers via AIM

"54 Days!"
"No 53!"
"Are you sure?"
"YES. I just double checked, go count."
"Okay. Hold on."

We hugged each other, we sussed out our new counselors, we checked how the boys were growing and checked out the new ones. We decided whether or not to pretend to be vegetarian based on the food choices it allowed us. And we made new friends. All within the first twelve hours back.

And I think it's the same for most people who went to camp, but because I never went to any other camp I refuse to actually believe this. There's no way anyone else on this planet could feel a draw to a particular place as strongly as we did. It's just not possible.

I write all of this because last weekend there was a camp reunion. AT THE CAMP. And I missed it. There were two main reasons for this:

1) I got back from France on Friday night. It was highly unlikely I would make it to the camp by Saturday morning.

2) It was expensive! The camp held the reunion to raise money for a camp scholarship, and I simply did not have the $225 to spare.

So I didn't go.

When I realized I wasn't going to make it, I was bummed. I would have loved to go, but a lot of people from my cabin weren't going either and while I was upset, I didn't think it was the end of the world.

Until today.

When the pictures started going up on Facebook.

I shit you not, I almost started crying at the office. Most of the people at the reunion were people I vaguely remember or didn't know very well - a male Apprentice Counselor from my first year there I never spoke to; a guy I had a crush on when I was 13, whose girlfriend I accidentally hit in the back with a door; the counselor from my second year who had to deal with the cabin of insane people I happened to be a part of. Only one person there was a good friend of mine, from my cabin, and I didn't care. I saw the pictures and wished so badly that I had gone.

Another friend of mine had the same feeling:

Morgan: gahhh wah i wish we had gone to craj

12:15 PM me: DUDE.

I KNOW

I'm really upset :(

12:17 PM Morgan: me too man

me: :(

They better do it again next year. I will be there with bells on. And some friends.


*Okay, if you happen to be driving in the Adirondacks for any reason, you NEED to check this place out. Seriously. It's amazing. Donnelly's Ice Cream. Write it down.

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GAH SORRY STRESSED

HI.

I'M GOING TO FRANCE TOMORROW.

My clothes are here, with me, at my mother's house.

My passport, suitcase and toiletries are all at my apartment. In Bushwick.

I wasn't planning on staying here! At my mom's! It's just that the dryer here sucks, and I had to run around a lot, and I don't plan well and BLAH. Also did not have the money to spend doing laundry in my own neighborhood.

POOR PLANNING SKILLS. Shut it :(

Anywhooooo...THIS is where I will be as of Thursday Morning:

I only get to turn 25 once. And I've decided to do it in Yvoire. At my grandmother's house. Because I'm awesome.

I'm not sure if I should be as scared as I am or more scared about my impending birthday. Part of me feels like I should have accomplished more at this point. Like a degree, or the ability to host people in my house without them going, "really? This is a hovel." (My house isn't THAT bad, but it could be better. I has a lazy, and a cheap...)

In other parts of the country people my age are married and have children. It's not something I'd want for myself at this moment in my life, but it's something to think about. I guess I always worry about falling behind the times. I have a friend that we used to joke stopped growing up at age 11. Now I wonder if I stopped growing up somewhere around 20.

I've touched on it before. I'm scared of growing up. There's something frightening about responsibility and bills and living on your own. Even if I 've done it for ages. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has been in this boat. I can't be, can I?

While I ponder this, I'll head back to being a four year old for just a minute:
I'M GOING TO FRA-ANCE.

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

Please Don't Make Fun Of Me

Readers, I have a horrible confession to make:

My new favorite show is America's Got Talent.

I never really got into American Idol. I liked watching the auditions, because you got gems like Mary Roach:



But I found that I didn't care when people did well. I was really only in it for the fail. And it feels bad to find pleasure in watching people fail. And the thing about AI is that I feel like they ALWAYS set you up for the fail. But on America's Got Talent, oh boy, you find things like this:



Who I WANT to do well. And she made me cry. And I realize that she's riding Susan Boyle's coattails, but I don't give a shit. I want to hug her.

I also want to hug this kid:



AND Grandma Lee:

Who, while using recycled jokes, makes me giggle.

The fail is still there, but the winners kill me.

I'm in love. Please don't make fun of me :(

Okay, okay, also these guys. I wish you could hear the judges reactions. Check out the postal workers:



Holy balls. <3

Seriously, go to Hulu and watch. I LOVE IT.

:(
UPDATE: Mom, This is for you:

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More Tampon Troubles, and Some AMAZING NEWS

Okay, first, this is ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING, and probably not true:

This story—and we do hope it's a story—makes the guy who complained about a snake head on his plate at TGI Friday's seem like a big fat baby: A German tourist claims that while eating steak and spinach at the Waldorf Astoria on Friday night, he bit into something you'd only expect to find on the menu at a Red Roof Inn. There's really no delicate way to put this: Axel Sanz-Claus tells ABC News that during his meal at the legendary hotel's Bull and Bear Steak House, he bit into a blood-soaked tampon. UGH: "I had it in my mouth, chewed it and nearly swallowed it," Sanz-Claus says, adding, "This is so disgusting, I've felt sick ever since."

ARE YOU SERIOUS? You can read the rest of the story here. As the commenters point out, how the HELL would you not notice a tampon on a plate of steak and spinach? How would it make it to your mouth??

Guh, the thought of it makes me gag.

To make up for that awful story, Gem has shared an amazing article with me on the demise of Crocs!

The colorful foam clogs appeared in 2002, just as the country was recovering from a recession. Brash and bright, they were a cheap investment (about $30) that felt good and promised to last forever. Former president George W. Bush wore them. Aerosmith lead singer Steven Tyler wore them. Your grandma wore them. They roared along with the economy, mocked by the fashion world but selling 100 million pairs in seven years.

...

The company had expanded to meet demand, but financially pressed customers cut back. Last year the company lost $185.1 million, slashed roughly 2,000 jobs and scrambled to find money to pay down millions in debt. Now it's stuck with a surplus of shoes, and its auditors have wondered if it can stay afloat. It has until the end of September to pay off its debt.

"The company's toast," said Damon Vickers, who manages an investment fund at Nine Points Capital Partners in Seattle. "They're zombie-ish. They're dead and they don't know it."

YOU GUYS, MY CAMPAIGN IS TOTALLY WORKING. Read the rest of the article here and REJOICE! THE WORLD WILL SOON BE FREE OF THE EVIL OF CROCS.

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

I'm Bleeding All Over The Place

I got my period today. Accompanied by cramps and general unpleasantness. Fun! I never used to get cramps. When I was younger my period came and went, and while annoying, it was never painful. Until an old woman (A WITCH! A WITCH! BURN HER!) cursed me.

Around November of 2001 I was sitting outside the Brooklyn Museum waiting for a friend, wearing an unattractive long blue coat, when an old woman with a shopping cart approached me. "Do you get cramps when you menstruate?" She asked me in her scratchy old lady witch voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you get cramps when you menstruaaaaaate?" She repeated.

"No, never! I'm, um....very lucky?" I replied. I was relatively disturbed that a stranger was asking me about my period.

"Well you will! Sitting on cold things! That's where the trouble starts!"

"I...What? But I'm sitting on my coat! I'm okay!"

"That's where the trouble starts!" She said, pointing at me menacingly. And then she shuffled away.

And then I started getting cramps.

Bitch.

ANYWAY - to top everything else off I got a nosebleed when I got home. After I had used up the last of our toilet paper I realized I had something else that would stop the blood flow:

Today sucks. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Dammit

Why is it totally hilarious to spew Shakespeare in other countries? Why can't OUR awful students spit it out?

That was for the UK Comic Relief.

Here's an example of a recent USA Comic Relief:



Honestly...try and sit through that. "It's like sweet potatoes hating yams!" SHUT UP. "I don't care if you think I'm racist as long as you think I'm a thin racist." REALLY? Gaaaah. I have zero hope for (famous [I know some funny people]) American comedy at this point.

In our defense - America did get the Glorious Eddie Izzard one year:


Eddie Izzard Performs at the US Comic Relief 1998 - For more funny videos, click here

OH WAIT. He did that before. Eddie Fucking Izzard couldn't be bothered to give America new material.

What the shit does that tell you? ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Late Late Late Mermaid Parade

Thanks to MattHillArt for the picture

Last year was the first time I ever made it to the Mermaid Parade. (I know, I know, I grew up in NYC and I'd never been to the Mermaid Parade before??) And we got there just a little too late, and it was a little too crowded, and it was hard to see. So my group and I gave up and spent the rest of the day on the boardwalk and rides. I decided this year, like I did with the Halloween Parade, that if I really wanted to see anything I had to be in it.

Luckily for me, a family friend is in charge of the East Village Sea Monster Marching Band, which has been a part of the Mermaid Parade for the last five years. He's been inviting me for years, but for the first time I said yes.

I was told that we were only allowed to wear blue and purple, and so I stuck to that. I also knew it was going to rain, so on the suggestion of my friend Gem, I became a Jellyfish Princess rather than some sort of mermaid.

Thanks to ronaldhennessy for the photo.
(The Streamers make me a jellyish)

Unfortunately for me, the rest of our group did not stick to the same color guidelines. We had a red mermaid, a green mermaid, a "freak" wearing only black sweatshorts, and a couple of randoms who decided to join us at the last minute.

Our "freak" Thanks to masi1028 for the photo.
Yes, I know my bra is showing. Shut it.

We were a motley crew to say the least. But regardless of the fact that the actual musical part of our band only knew three songs, and that we had absolutely no skill when it came to walking as a group, I had a wonderful time.

Weather permitting, I will do it all again next year.

Oh, and of course I took photo booth pictures.

And here is a link to another blog that mentioned The East Village Sea Monster Marching Band.

Update: Yes, if anyone was wondering - YES. I did spend hours going through Flickr. Shut up.

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A Collection of Open Letters Round Three

You can view 1 & 2 here.

Dear EVERYONE IN THIS G-D CITY,
Stay to the right. On the street, at the subway station, WHEREVER. Just stay to the right and everyone will get where they need to go. It's NOT THAT HARD. This goes double for you Mr. Speedy McWheelChair. Being handicapped does not give you the right to cruise directly into people on Park Avenue South. I don't think those things are made to go so quickly and you almost ran me down. STAY TO THE RIGHT.

Thank You,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Thanks to _The Moose_ for the picture

Dear Ladies and Girls of Bushwick,
Fuzzy pink slippers are not appropriate outdoor footwear. I don't know who started this trend, but it is absolutely disgusting. I have seen at least five girls this week alone wearing them. What's the deal? This is not a clean neighborhood, God knows what you're picking up with those things. And really? You couldn't be bothered to put on real shoes? You're in PUBLIC. Step it up, ladies.

I'm Serious.

Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear All Of You Who Have Been Giving Me Shit About This For Years,

I finally saw The Big Lebowski all the way through! After years of people trying to show me it at 2am or later, I watched it at a decent hour. On a roof no less! The only interruption came in the form of a vomiting man two feet away. Too many White Russians will do that to a guy, I guess.

Yay!
Sarah ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

A Public Service Announcement

Have you ever seen that series of numbers clicking away above Union Square? People always seem so confused by it. Is it the national debt? A doomsday countdown? A secret??

It's not any of those things.

People? It's an effing clock.

From left to right it gives the time: 17:13 and 35 seconds. AKA 35 seconds past 5:13pm.

"But what about the rest of the numbers??" You ask.

From right to left it is counting down the rest of the day. At 5:13 and 35 seconds there are 6 hours, 46 minutes, and 24 seconds left until midnight.

Are we clear?

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I Have....NO PANTS!

Seth and I were talking yesterday (Today? Last week? Some damn day) about how I don't spend money on clothing. And it's true. On a good day my entire outfit (including shoes, purse and underpants) will have cost me exactly $0.00. On an average day maybe $20. My roommate works at a clothing company, my friends love to clean out their closets, and I go to my fair share of clothing swaps. (Also, my everyday purse, a Strand Bag, was found in the garbage. PURE CLASS!) I think the most expensive piece of clothing I own is a hoodie I bought in Spain four years ago for the equivalent of $100.00. And I don't even wear the damn thing anymore!

The last time I bought jeans was years ago, and while for a long time that was okay (because I rarely wore the things) I've found myself drawn to them more and more recently for lack of anything else to wear. And this weekend my favorite of the two pairs I own ripped at the knee. I am still wearing them, but I'm thinking it might be time to invest in a new pair.

So where to go? I'm not spending $180.00 on a pair of Seven's. I owned a pair once, but they were a gift because, again, I am not the type to spend almost $200.00 on a damn pair of jeans. I am cheap. I can accept this.

On top of everything else I HATE SHOPPING FOR JEANS. A lot of girls hate the thought of bathing suit shopping, but for me? Jeans. Fucking Jeans. They. Never. Fit.

H&M jeans are not built for my body. I have a small waist and a big ass, and H&M jeans fail to fit over my thighs if I grab the size that fits my waist. Old Navy is always an option, but their sizing has gotten so wonky in recent years that I'm not even sure if it's worth the trip. (Though I do love walking into the only store in the world where I'm a size 2.) I have a pair of Gap capri's that fit me as pants. And I LOVE THEM. But they no longer have a crotch. So...yeah. I bought a pair of Levi's a couple of years ago because they were having a sale, but ending up turning them into shorts and then tossing them because they looked truely terrible.

Oh, and did I mention that I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HATE TRYING ON JEANS?

Where the hell do you buy YOUR jeans? Should I just shell out the extra cash? HALP!

(Yes, I am riding on the coattails of The Tigerlily's hose post. Shut up.) ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Now I'm REALLY pretty

So, on top of the red, shiny, frizzy, pimply, limpyness I mentioned yesterday, I now smell bad too! Seth and I went to two BBQ's yesterday and I came home from them, like you do, smelling of meat and smoke. (No, literally, I had trouble sleeping last night and kept thinking "Man, I smell like meat." Seth on the other hand smelled of home fries. He slept fine.) When I woke up this morning to get in the shower after a night of tossing and turning I discovered that my roommate, after a night of drinking and apparently meeting Kanye West (still waiting for the whole story on THAT one) had puked in the bathroom sink. The smell was un-fucking-believable and after a futile attempt to get it down the drain, I abandoned my efforts and, gagging, grabbed my toothbrush and brushed my teeth in the kitchen sink.

Then I went to work. Smelling of meat. Because I'm pretty.

As for the puking in the sink, I am confused. Our bathroom is laid out so that you hit the toilet before the sink. At the Tigerlily's house, where the sink is the first thing you see, I could understand this. But here? The toilet would definitely be my first target. Either way, he apologized and the puke has been cleaned up. Thank GOD.

This has not been my best Tuesday. (Though I did win $10.00 on a scratch ticket (don't judge me!))

OH! And because it was chilly today?, I wore jeans. Tight tight jeans. That reacted badly with my bruised knees. Which made me limp to the point that my coworkers would get distracted when I was going up and down the stairs in our office. Yeah. Not a good Tuesday. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

I have the legs of a seven year old - I keep them under my bed. BA DA BING!

Summer is a good look for a lot of people. They get tan, they flaunt some skin, everyone is happy. Summer is not a good look for me. (I know it's not summer yet, but it's feeling like it.) I am shiny. I am red. I am breaking out all over the place. I have a pimple on my chest. My hair is the size of Kentucky. This is not cute.

Other people Tan. I get tan on my shoulders but every other part of me will only stick to two shades red and white. There is no in between. And it sucks, because there is something very flattering about summer clothes on tan skin, something I will never really understand. And fake tans and spray on tans look exactly that - fake. So why bother? I think I'd rather red than orange.

On top of the sexy that is my shiny red visage - last night my sandal caught the curb and I faceplanted - skinning both of my knees, the palms of my hands, and (somehow) my left ankle. RAD. I'm limping around today in pain with my right knee covered in band-aids and my left turning a lovely shade of purple. I look like a small child. And the fall was just so shocking. I haven't fallen like that in YEARS and it brought back so many memories of being a city kid and the bumps and bruises you get running around on concrete instead of a lawn.

People always ask me what it was like growing up in downtown Manhattan, and I always tell them the same thing - that I only grew up one way, so I have no basis for comparison, but it was great. I had run of the neighborhood, everyone knew me, it was FUN. I had my friends from around the corner, and their siblings, and we left home in the morning and came home at night. I hate people who say that the city is no place to raise children. It's a crock of shit. I mean, I turned out pretty okay:
Right? ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

My Friends Truly Understand Me

There's a website called F My Life where people can anonymously post the terrible things that happen to them on a daily basis. All the entries start with "Today", tell the short story, and end with "FML". My friend Emily was apparently browsing it today, when I got the following message on G-Chat:

Emily: Is this you?
Today, I had a very intense sexual dream that made me come and left me panting when I woke up. It was the best orgasm I'd ever had. The trouble was, it wasn't about a hot girl, or anything sexy. It was about bacon. FML

No, I am not sexually aroused by bacon. I just love it very very very much. Okay? ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Things I am stealing from Seth's Blog

Or Pictures from Seth's phone (instead of mine).

Seth has a tumblr blog called Resign that he uses as a sort of picture diary. So, for lack of better content, I'm stealing pictures from his blog and moving them over here.

At the end of February Seth and I were hanging out and trying to figure out where we were going to spend the night.
Seth: Let's go to my place
Me: No, my place.
Seth: Really, we should go to my place.
Me: No. My place.
Seth: We're going to my place.
Me: FINE. Grumble Grumble Grumble.

All grumbles dissolved when we arrived and I found this waiting for me:

KITTY! His name is Percy, but we usually just call him "The Kitty."

HOLY CRAP. MY BOYFRIEND GOT ME A CAT. Best boyfriend ever, right?!

Just wait...Seth explained to me that he talked to my roommate and he wasn't so into the idea of living with a cat at the moment. So he was going to wait a week before bringing the cat over. Unfortunately, because the cat is SO RAD, Seth fell in love with him and changed his mind about giving him to me.

Awesome.

Eventually the cat DID move in with me, it just took a while. He sleeps in bed with me:
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Seth still says the cat is his. Grumble.

On a completely unrelated note - I got an unannounced day off on Wednesday, so Seth and I went up to Central Park. And then Seth took off his pants:

The whole point of this post was so I could put this picture up. Mwahahahaha

Because sometimes you just need to go pantsless in public. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Things Your Mother Shouldn't Read

I started a new blog this morning - Things My Mother Shouldn't Read - and I need submissions.
The idea came to me last night when I realized that I don't post certain things on this blog because I know that my mother, grandmother, and various other family members read this. Knowing full well that I wasn't the only person in this situation, I decided to create a place to house anonymous submissions of the things we want to write about, but are too embarrassed to post.

Feel free to send stuff to thingsmymothershouldntread (at) gmail dot com. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

I may need more people to talk to

Because I am INSANE, I will sometimes have imaginary conversations with strangers in the street. Well, okay, I'm not THAT insane - but I will imagine comebacks to things people might say to me one day. That's probably not helping my argument. ANYWAY - the reason I'm thinking about this is because the comebacks I imagine myself saying are things I would NEVER EVER say in real life. For example, I just imagined myself saying, "And you shouldn't talk to strangers, you old COOT!"

Coot is word I have never used and cannot imagine myself ever using. Ever. In any situation. I've only typed it twice and already it's doing that thing where it no longer looks like a word.

I think everyone does this once in a while. Especially in New York where people talk to strangers all the time. It just makes sense to have a snappy comment handy in case whoever you're suuuuuure is going to talk to you actually says what you just know they're going to say. Right? Right.

-----------------------

In the last few months I have determined that I look like a raging bitch when I am walking by myself. My coworkers were complaining about one of the banks we have to go to because, according to them, they would get stopped every time they walked in by someone trying to get them to open an account. "Really?" I asked, "It's never happened to me. I just walk straight through and don't look at anyone." I think eye contact might be the kicker. I will make it with random strangers on the street or on the subway, but never with someone who wants to sell me anything.

I spent my lunch break in Union Square which is completely overpopulated with canvassers who want you to save the children, or the rain forest, or perhaps the orphaned ducklings of Connecticut. I have no idea what they want because they never stop me. They will jump in front of any other person within the vicinity and leave me alone. It's lovely.

The people I have to work on are the ones trying to get me to buy discounted salon packages. Do I really look that bad? ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Ahem...::Taps Mic:: Is this thing on?

Anyone? Bueller? Still here with me?

Good.

I'm back.

HEY!

So - My taxes? Still not filed. I'm going to take care of that...um...this week sometime? That sounds good. I need the return!

And California! Holy hell! So much better than last time! I didn't beat the crap out of Seth this time because there were no surprises! There was also no running around like crazy people, so it was a nice relaxing trip. I also noticed something a funny difference between the generations of Seth's family:

Seth's Mom, Step Dad, Cousins: "We hope we get to see you again!" ::hint hint hint::

Seth's Grandparents, Great Aunts, Older Cousins: "We better see you again." In a slightly threatening kind of way. Precious!

Aaaaand slightly scary. Not in a "OMG SO MUCH PRESSURE GAAAAAH RUN AWAY!!!!" kind of way. It's more of a "Holy shit I do not want to get hunted down by old people because they SCARE ME" thing.

I almost suffered a wardrobe malfunction on the day of Grandma's party because the dress I had originally planned on wearing was not cooperating with my bra and because it was NINETY EFFING DEGREES outside I could not fix this problem with the help of a handy dandy cardigan. So I thought, "Oh hell, it's California! I'll just go without!" Things I should not go without? A bra. Ever. Luckily Seth and his brother saved me from this before the party started. THAT was fun.

Me: Baby? Can I get away with this? (Turns around and walks to show Seth what the dress will do when I'm not standing totally still.)

Seth: Hmmm...I think so. Probably. I don't know. Let's go ask Mike (His brother).

Me: ....

Seth: Come on! It's no big deal.

Me: ...

Eventually I did show Mike and at first he said it was fine. Then a moment later Seth came up and said that, on second thought, maybe it wasn't such a good idea but if I was really concerned I should ask his mother.

AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAA. Could you IMAGINE?

Lucky for me I had a backup dress with me.

And my bra was STILL showing! Because I'm awesome. And classy. And pretty. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

TAX SEASON AGAIN!

Because I am AWESOME, I managed to lose a W-2 AGAIN this year. Yeah. Me = TEH AWESOME.

The missing W-2 is from a sometimes job I don't even HAVE anymore and the owner of the company has not responded to my e-mail telling her to PLEASE send me a new one, KTHNX. So...yeah. I'm filing for an extension.

Greeeeeeeeeeeeat.

Update on the leaky window is nonexistent because my landlord has not come to fix it.
I'm STARVING.
Seth and I are going to California on Thursday and I still have MUCH to do before then.
I'm exhausted.

The End. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

If April Showers Bring May Flowers, What Do May Flowers Bring? Pilgrims.

Happy Spring! It's raining, it's pouring and my apartment is falling to bits. Joy of joys!

This morning, my roommate got up and said, "Do we have a leak?" And I told him no, figuring it was just the rain hitting the air conditioner. (The air conditioner in our living room came with the apartment and has never moved. It lives in the window all year round and we're okay with that.) We went out to get some mexican food from around the corner, came back, ate, and were moving on with our day when Seth and I noticed that, oh shit, it's raining INSIDE the apartment.

So now I'm waiting for the landlord to come over and do something about this. It's boring.

In other news, Seth and I are off to California on Thursday for his grandmother's birthday party. It will be nice to get out of the city for a few days.

In other other news I'm lying down typing this on Seth's laptop and it's making my arms hurt. I will provide further updates on the raining livingroom later. If there are any. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

A Collection of Open Letters Round Two

Here we go again.

Dear Lady Eating Nacho Cheese Doritos on Public Transit at 8:45 in the Morning,
For starters, I really hope you aren't one of those women who can't figure out WHY their pants don't fit. I think I figured out your problem: YOU EAT JUNK FOR BREAKFAST. Secondly - That is really really mean to your fellow passengers. And by "fellow passengers" I mean "me." Who you were breathing your nasty cheese breath all over. At 8:45 in the morning. I hate you.

Nauseously Yours,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear Office Bathroom,
I heard there were not one but TWO roaches in you this afternoon. A water bug and what was described as "its baby" by a coworker. I'm really not into this and would appreciate if you knocked that shit off right now.

Thanks,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear Weather,
We need to talk. Are you lonely? Depressed? I've noticed you acting out recently, and I don't like it. It was 70 degrees last week and this morning it snowed. Twice! That is a temper tantrum if I ever heard of one. I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you want to talk about anything. And I'd really appreciate it if you would be so kind as to make up your mind. I'd like us to be friends again.

Love,
Sarah

----------------------------------------------

Dear Children Who Live Above My Office,
I understand that you're young, but could you please PLEASE save the pots and pans banging until after 6pm? I'd love if you could reschedule all piano lessons and temper tantrums as well, but know that it's a lot to ask. Why don't we start with the pots and pans and move on from there?

Let me know,
Sarah ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Dude, seriously, back off...

As we all know I am quite capable of over sharing and embarrassing myself, but some people are just bizarre. This evening, in a deli near my house, I was looking at the beer selection trying to figure out what I wanted to get when a man carrying far too much in his hands almost bumped into me. The aisle was huge so there was no reason for this until I realized, oh balls, he wanted to chat. Fine. Bring it on weird dude.

"You like that beer, huh? Getting some?"
"Yeah, just figuring out what I'm in the mood for, you know."
"Drinking alone tonight?"
"Oh, no, I'm picking them up for me and MY BOYFRIEND to have with dinner."
And this is when he started making things up. He told me how him and his "girlfriend" like to drink beer all the time. You could very clearly see the train of thought on his face. "She has a boyfriend? Fine! I will make her jealous with tales of my girlfriend! Weeee...." So apparently his "girlfriend" likes drinking Bacardi mixed with "What's it called? Hendy? Hinny? Starts with an H." "Hennessy?" I ventured. "Yeah! That! We got TWISTED on that the other night. I was so drunk, I don't even know how I got home!" THEN he told me that actually, him and his "girlfriend" don't really drink that much, because he's prone to seizures. (WHAT?) Then he asked if I was engaged and when I told him I was not went into this long speech about how his girlfriend wanted him to propose last June, but he didn't because she has an ex husband. And she's carrying the ex husbands child. But somehow, this unborn child calls HIM "Daddy" and he's afraid of child services coming after him. He also told me that him and this pregnant (with miraculously speaking fetus) woman and he have been together for three years.

If you're going to start telling me stories, at least have them make some sort of sense. Crazy pants.

People are so weird. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!

Hey Everybody,
Please go visit my mom over at Wendy From Encore and wish her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY! She's about a million now. Juuuust kidding.

YAAAAAAAY!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMMY! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Blah Blah Blah Clogs Blah Blah Blah

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

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

Worst. Roommate. Ever.

In early 2005, at the tender age of 20, I moved to Bushwick where I lived with four other people:
My boyfriend, two (then) random boys, and a girl who I discovered was batshit insane the second I got home from a three week European adventure with Vicky.

I got back from Europe on the 23rd of June and was home for two days before realizing that this girl was COMPLETELY INSANE...

I was going to a party that night (still horribly jet lagged) so at about 6pm I wandered into the bathroom to start getting ready. Across from our toilet was a shelving unit that held various things - styling tools, etc. You know, bathroom things. The middle shelf served as our magazine rack. As I sat on the toilet I looked towards our magazine collection and was immediately confronted with a used tampon. What. The. Fuck. Since there were only two girls living in our apartment, and I knew full well it wasn't mine, it had to be the other female roommate's.

Well, at the time female roommate was not home, but the boys were, so I dragged them all in to the bathroom, pointed and said, "What the FUCK is that?" At which point they all ran around going, "ewwwwwwwwwwww!!!" for a while. About ten minutes later I took an unused tampon and threw it at the boys in the living room. It landed in one of their hands and after shrieking like a lady for ten minutes, he turned to me and said, "Sarah. That may be the coolest thing you've ever done." Apparently they actually thought I would throw a used tampon at them. And not just any used tampon, SOMEONE ELSE'S. How gross did they think I was? (Don't answer that.)

Disgusting Female roommate did not come home for TWO days, so we had to keep the damn thing there so we could rub her nose in it like a bad puppy who's peed on the rug. Luckily one of the male roommates covered the offending object in a piece of toilet paper.

When Female roommate finally reappeared I dragged her into the bathroom and we had the following conversation (I shit you not):

Me: What the fuck is that?
Her: (Lifting up toilet paper) Oh my GOD. I'm sooo sorry!
Me: Um, it's cool...I guess…But…um, why?
(Pause)
Her: Well...My sister and I...we're saving them. We're making matching sisterhood puppets out of them.

At which point she wrapped the thing in a piece of tissue and wandered into her room.

All together now - EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

When this bit of information was passed on to the other roommates and various friends who hung out at our apartment we tried to figure out where she was keeping them. I mean, how many places can you keep a used tampon without people noticing? You'd think the smell alone would set off a few alarms. We decided she must have some sort of container she kept them in. On a shelf or something. Apparently we were wrong. This lovely, INTERESTING girl also made jewelry,. Hideous, awful jewelry out of fabric and found objects that she used to decorate her walls and occasionally her person.

You know what else she used to decorate her walls? USED TAMPONS. We didn't notice them at first because of all the other shit up there, but upon closer inspection we realized that she had covered her walls in a collage of skank. She was kicked out shortly after the tampon fiasco, but not before we found three others lurking around the apartment. Two in the bathroom and one on the living room floor, wrapped in toilet paper.

There was also the time she left her dildo in the bathroom for three days, and the time she decided to sleep with her door open so that I was confronted with her boyfriend's balls first thing in the morning.

Man...she was a JOY.

I've gotten flack for saying she was the worst roommate ever because she didn't destroy anything or steal from us. But come ON. It was still pretty bad.

What about you guys? Any horror stories? ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Holy Shit - Seriously?

Dear everyone in Middle America, New Jersey, Dublin and Massachusetts (ESPECIALLY Massachusetts - you seem to have performed the search more than anyone else this month),
STOP SEARCHING "Versailles Boutique" and "Versailles Boutique - 8th Street and MacDougal" and "New York Boutiques - Versailles" AND "VERSAILLES boutique" (yes, some genius decided the store needed to be in all CAPS. For whatever reason)

Look. I covered it. I think it's terrible.

I can't imagine why you keep searching it.

Really. I don't.

Please....it's so terrible.

Please stop.

Look to the Fug Girls. They will steer you from your skanky expensive tastes.

Knock it off. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Welcome to the Sarah Booz Nostalga Hour

I have (kind of obviously) had nothing to say for the last two weeks. So I'm going to supply you with fond childhood memories while I piece together another disgusting story you're bound to love.

Enjoy!







(hahahahaha SO GOOD)

Please don't kill me for this one:
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Two Things Guaranteed to Wake a Girl Up

1) A cold shower

Definitely had no hot water this morning. What a joy that was.

2) Sex Bomb by Tom Jones. Thanks, shuffle! (Also, thanks building guys for not laughing at me even though I'm pretty sure you've seen the video of me dancing in the elevator. IT'S A VERY DANCY SONG.)



HAPPY FRIDAY! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Twenty Seven Stitches OR don't read this if you've just eaten lunch

Zoe and I, Summer 2008

When I was in the first grade we had to have bathroom buddies because unlike kindergarten, the bathrooms were down the hall and not in the classroom. My bathroom buddy was Zoe, and every time one of us had to pee we had to go together. Because we were six. The other thing about bathroom buddies was that it meant you always had an audience when performing stupid stunts. The most popular of these stunts was keeping the door locked from the inside, putting one foot on the toilet, the other on the lock and then launching yourself over the door. It was impressive and annoying!

Right before Memorial Day weekend 1991, Zoe and I got stuck in the stall. Being that I was A) wearing my favorite shirt (a yellow Lacoste pocket tee) and B) had done it a million times before, I decided to launch myself over the door, rather than crawling under it. Well, like so many other things in my life, (see Wrestling, Rooftop) it didn't go quite as well for me that time. Somehow or another I lost my balance in the middle of this act (I still think Zoe pushed the door, she says she didn't) and landed, armpit first, on the blunt coat hook. Dazed and bleeding, Zoe and I started to leave the bathroom when


Disclaimer: Okay, now I'm really serious about the Don't-Read-This-If-You've-Just-Had-Lunch thing...we're about to go gross...





a chunk of fat from my arm ended up in my mouth and I had to spit it out.

I'm serious. I have had human fat in my mouth. I wouldn't advise it.

Moving on!

Zoe and I made our way back to our classroom where my first grade teacher, Amy Blackwell, did not faint. Which is something I still look up to her for. From there things are a little blurry. I remember being in the principle's office where she held a wad of those school grade brown paper towels under my arm until the paramedics got there. I remember my father arriving on unicycle, and I remember that I was laughing by the time I got into the ambulance. I also remember getting a huge shot in my leg to knock me out so they could stitch me up.

FUN!

Other than that I don't remember much. I'll still run into people who remember me bleeding on their desks...so that's fun.

Now go look at the picture in the top of the post again. That's me, Zoe, and the actual hook I landed on all those years ago. My mother doesn't find the humor in the photo. Zoe and I think it's awesome.

Thanks to The Garlic for inspiring this post. xo
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Intermission

I didn't make this, I just think it's funny


more music charts ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

You know that 25 Things thing? It's totally not happening.

Because I've been tagged a bajillion times in that stupid "25 Random Things About Me" note on Facebook (I'm very popular), I've actually started thinking about it. Which is stupid because I'm totally never doing it. You can all stop tagging me now.

The only thing I keep coming up with is that I am obsessed with weather. Not low or high pressure, and certainly not cloud patterns; I'm obsessed with the temperature. I want to know what the temperature is outside at all times. When I am at my mother's house I watch NY1 almost exclusively because it always has a handy time and temperature thingie in the corner of the screen. ------------------------------------------------------>

I love it.

I also love The Fucking Weather. Because it's funny and doesn't load nearly as slowly as Weather dot com.

I know there are probably plenty of other things about me that people would want to know. But they usually already do.

14) I grew up with a sixteen foot python. But you already knew that because you are friends with me on Facebook, and therefore have access to my pictures and have already seen the picture of me and the giant ass snake. It was my profile picture for a while.

So there's an interesting tidbit I'm not supposed to put on the note...great.




7) I once busted my face in a rooftop wrestling incident. You know what? I should probably not be telling people about that anyway.


22) I mess with my hair after breakups. And it's never a good thing.

See?

I'm boring. (Or just laaaaazy)

Stupid 25 Things. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

I am really good at making a FOOL of myself OR never shout "PIEGINA!" in a restaurant

So tonight? At Northeast Kingdom? Where Karin and I had dinner? I may or may not have shouted "PIEGINA!" way louder than I should have. Because I should not be allowed in public.

Basically what happened was this -

After an AWESOME meal of leeks vinaigrette, pork something or another, pork loin sandwich with apple and mustard on an English muffin and a chicken pot pie (and also champagne), I decided to order the banana creme pie. You know that point in a slice of pie when you've eaten the point off and it falls on its back? Insides up? Well, Karin saw this and said, "Look, it's exposing itself!" at which point I said, waaaaaaaay too loudly, "IT'S SHOWING US ITS PIEGINA." Because apparently my banana creme pie is a woman. A slutty slutty woman.

Yeah, not allowed around people.

Ever.

UPDATE: Karin pointed out that what she actually said was, "She's presenting herself to us" which makes the pie a lot sluttier than we originally thought.
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Foot In Mouth Disease...I hear it's going around

Seth and I are considering going back to California in the spring, and while talking about it via g-chat today, I made an awful typo:

Me: I would love to, you know that. Though I'm a bit scared of plans right now.

Seth: oh

Me: (After rereading what I wrote and feeling like an ASSHOLE) *planes! PLANES!

Oh Man. Can you imagine? "Hello lover, would you like to accompany me on a trip in a few months time?" "Yeah, see...about that? I'm not really into long term plans...um...yeah...."

I would die.

But seriously, two plane crashes right up against each other? Hell NO I do not want to get into a plane right now, thankyouverymuch. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

OUCH. Let me repeat: O-U-C-H

For once in my life I am actually spending the New Year trying to make a better me. The first and second changes are not that strange: I got new glasses (well, Seth got me new glasses) and got a haircut. A professional haircut! I didn't cut it myself this time!

This is the part where you tell me I'm pretty. (Seth hates it. Shhh. He didn't want me to tell you that.)

The hairdresser, Mike, made fun of the state my hair was when I got to him.

Mike: Um...what's with the color?
Me: I got mad at a boy in July and dyed it black.
Flamboyant Assistant: Why do girls always take it out on their hair?
Mike: ::Shakes his head:: Who was the boy?
Me: Um...my then ex-boyfriend who is now my current boyfriend? It's a long story.
Mike: ::Rolls his eyes:: And when was the last time you got a hair cut?
Me: Um...well, my old roommate cut a couple of inches off with a pair of kitchen scissors? A couple of months ago? Does that count?
Mike: You are never allowed to touch your hair again.

Which is probably very good advice.




It is the THIRD change I've made this year that is the real shocker for anyone who knows me. For those of you that don't know me? I am lazy. Very lazy. My favorite things in the world are sleep and bacon. Everyone have a clear picture now? Are you sitting down? Comfortable? Excellent...






I joined a gym.




Now, please - nobody panic! I haven't lost my mind...I just...well...I'm turning twenty-five this year and the gym by my house is really REALLY cheap and...I've started to feel a little tubby. (A diet of sleep and bacon will do that to a girl) And I would be pleased if my arms were slightly less jiggly. And the gym - holy shit it is cheap. And a LADY gym, which means I don't have to deal with BOYS and feel self conscious. YAY!

Today was my second day at the gym and I am HURTY. Oh, I should probably mention this: this was my second day at a gym. Ever. Remember the lazy? Told you.

But as much pain as I'm in I'm also feeling good. Kind of, PUMPED. It feels bizarre. I've never really been invested in taking care of myself before.

I think I might actually stick with this...huh.

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Spam is very serious business

I am kind of obsessed with Spam. I used to have a Spam t-shirt. My nickname was Spam Lady for a couple of years when I was younger. I am super disgusted/intrigued by Spam recipes. So it was only fitting that I got the Spam card during Apples to Apples.
Hey, and you can almost see my new glasses! (They are really really awesome.)

More later, I'm a busy bee.

By the way, have you ever played Apples to Apples? It might be the best game ever. Go buy it.

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

It was bound to happen soon enough

Remember little Adolf Hitler Campbell? He and his sisters, JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell and Honszlynn Hinler Jeannie Campbell, were (finally) taken away from their parents last night. Apparently there had been no reports of child abuse, but isn't the name Adolf Hitler enough? Not to mention being raised to be completely and totally racist.

That sounds like abuse to me.

You can read the full story here.

In other news - I finally saw Twilight and Bride Wars on Sunday. My friend V and I were feeling a touch under the weather and decided to do a sneaky double feature in Union Square. Something I had not done since I was about twelve. I'd forgotten how EASY it is.

Bride Wars was completely and totally terrible, yet managed to make me cry. Because I am a complete and total baby and everything makes me cry. When I was six I had to be physically removed from a movie theatre during BINGO because I was sobbing so hysterically. Don't remember Bingo? Nobody does. Here's the summary (thanks IMDB) :

When Bingo, a runaway circus dog who leaves the big top, saves the life of Chuckie, a young boy who is having trouble fitting in with his pals. The two quickly become best friends-skateboarding, playing pinball, and doing math homework together. But Chuckie's parents discover the stowaway pooch, and make no bones about the fact that Bingo will not accompany them on their cross-country move. What follows next is a heart warming 1000 mile adventure of puppy love and loyalty as Bingo and Chuckie encounter nutty characters and hilarious situations in their quest to be reunited. Dog catchers, kidnappers, hospitals and even prison cant keep the two misfits apart!

Uh huh. Physically removed. Because I was HYPERVENTILATING.

As a teenager I had to stop watching Ice Age on a plane because I was crying so much that my seatmate noticed.

When I watch E.T. I start crying the second the first bicycle leaves the ground and I don't stop until the end of the film. I'm terrible.

Anywho, Bride Wars sucked. Don't waste your money.

Twilight? Also sucked. If you haven't read the book the movie will make absolutely no sense to you. V was confused. Hell, half the time I was confused. It was completely terrible. But you know what I'm doing now? Rereading Twilight! Why? Because Stephanie Meyer has managed to write crack.

So you know what?

Fuck you Stephanie Meyer! Give me my life back! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

How to cheer a nerd up:

Eddie Izzard + Legos = awesome.

I don't care if they are a million years old:





Regarding the second one, if we ever hang out you will definitely hear me say, "I can kill you with a thought!"

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

FAIL

I've had blog posts running through my head all week, but as I mentioned before, I have very little computer access. Now that I'm on a computer? I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GOING TO WRITE ABOUT.

I need to work on this computron issue.

In the meantime this is why I should not be allowed near the Photobooth program on macs:



I'm pretty!

And, Seth and I are awesome:
Woooo....yeaaaah.

Wow. I'm boring.

I'm also in a really really bad mood, which is annoying. I think it's a combination of far too little sleep and general winter blues.

Or something.

Dude, I don't know.

Leave me alone. I'm grumpy. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Actually:

Dear Friends:

Real Life or internet (and close by)
One of my resolutions this year is to be a better friend/see my friends more so....

If you want to have a home cooked meal that I have posted about, or would like to serve me one - let's work it out. I am all about cheap or not so cheap home cooked meals this year.

Let's switch off!

Or, if you are reading this and we don't know each other - think about doing a potluck. Or just a dinner party. For your friends! I think 2009 is a good year to be awesome. Awesome in a delicious way. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

WOOOOO

YEAH! Happy New Year!

Sorry for disappearing for a little while in there. I can explain:

I don't own a computer. Yeah. I know. Lame.

My roommates computer? Died for a little bit in there.

My mom's computer? Well, the computer is fine. The monitor broke. Blogging without a monitor is hard.

And work? Well, work decided that busy work was better than no work and being caught blogging would mean the ax. After almost five years. Awesome.

So mostly? I'm sorry.

My life hasn't changed that much...

I wish I had something exciting to blog about. I will, in a night or two, when I remake an amazing meal that I made up a couple of weeks ago and want to recreate. In the meantime I will post a meal that I made recently that two years ago made Seth fall in love with me more than he already was. (Which is my favorite because it is SO FUCKING EASY)

Please keep in mind that I am bad about recipes and tend to cook the way I was taught:

Roasted Potatoes with Sauteed Spinach and Sausage

Take as many potatoes as you think you will eat. As long as they aren't baking potatoes, it doesn't matter. On the high end you have your baby yellows or reds. On the low end you have whatever is not a baking potato at your ghetto local super market.

Preheat the oven to 345.

Chop them up into tiny bitesized pieces. Put your cut potatoes in a bowl with enough olive oil to coat them, a generous amount of salt, some fresh pepper, fresh rosemary* (No really, include the rosemary, it makes a difference), and whatever else you have around that you think will taste good. Mix everything around until the potatoes are coated in delicious randomly spiced goodness, put them in a baking dish, toss a couple of full garlic cloves on top, and stick it in the oven for at least 45 minutes.

Every oven is different, my oven runs cold so these potatoes can take over an hour. It sucks. Check them after 45 minutes and if they are done, congrats! Your oven rules! If they aren't, then wait a while.

About 20 minutes into potato cooking, take a package of spicy italian sausage and cook them in olive oil until done. I have never found the cooking instructions for sausage to do me any good, so look it up on the internet and improvise from there. You should come out with crispy outsides and awesome insides. (I wish I could do better at explaining this, but cooking sausage seems to be a science that eludes me.)

When the sausage is done remove to a plate and cover in foil.

Throw a bunch of washed spinach (NOT FROZEN) into the sausage pan, cook until it seems like far too little, along with some more salt and pepper.

Serve sausage on top of spinach with roasted potatoes on the side. Marvel at the reaction you get.

If you need help, let me know and I will be more than happy to come over and recreate this. I know exactly what I'm doing when I cook it, writing about it is a different story.

UPDATE: Ducky - writing this made me realize that I owe you a casserole. Please e-mail me to work out a time. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves