I love my family. Seriously. My parents and my brother are easily my favorite people in the world. (Notice I said people. It’s convenient that Rosie falls under the canine category so I don’t have to choose.) This past weekend at home was a prime example why. Everett flew home for the weekend because he’s leaving to go work in Ghana for a few weeks. (Yeah, as in Africa. Yeah,...
I thought about making some comment on the Sanford thing, but the joke kind of writes itself. My brother, however, wrote me a lovely email about it. And, because he has threatened to “steal my following” if I don’t blog about it, consider his email below, my blog: I mean seriously this guy is awesome. He’s got his staff acting like they are covering up the Kennedy...
Signs I’m having a quarter-life crisis and/or am...
Yesterday I went to look at houses in Charlotte with my realtor. Then I went home, went online, found a rental home in central America, emailed the link to my friend, and said we should move there. Immediately. I don’t listen to rap music very often anymore. This signifies to me that I might be getting old. So, I keep downloading hip hop/ pop in an effort to keep up. But honestly, Soulja Boy...
My apologies for my lack of blogging of late: I’m sorry. My excuses for my lack of blogging of late: 1) I adhere to a strict “If it isn’t funny… or at least some form of entertainment… don’t post it” policy. Life over the past week hasn’t been particularly funny. 2) I had about 4.2 hours of sleep last week. In the game of sleeping versus...
Me: I really want to go to the All Points West music festival. Know anyone we could stay with in New York?
Katie: I think the line up looks better for Lollapalooza. Let's go there.
Me: Ok. Fine. Know anyone in Chicago we can stay with?
Iran's Disputed Election on The Big Picture →
Because sometimes I need things like protests in countries on the other side of the world explained in pictures. Especially when half the names involved look to me like they were created by someone playing with alphabet soup.
“In America, we love tearing people down and then... →
Sometimes the American public makes me feel a little queasy.
Why I can't stop crying this morning:
My family’s dog, Boots, died last night. My dad called to tell me this morning. Want to really f up someone’s make up before work? Tell them their childhood pet drowned in the pool last night. Anyway, I’ll write a eulogy of sorts later. When I pull myself together a little bit. For now, this just seemed like a way as easy as any to share the information with friends.
Well, I had been under the impression that my excellent catch-and-release skills with mice in addition to my expert duct-taping job along all cracks in my house had eliminated my mouse problem. I was wrong. Last night, around 9 p.m. I was talking to my parents on the phone. Ironically enough, we were discussing me moving somewhere else—somewhere without mice. As we talked Rosie was charging all...
As I may or may not have mentioned on here before, I live in what one could call an “interesting” neighborhood. One of the things I enjoy most about it is the friendly neighborhood ice cream man. He’s a small hispanic man who walks by about a million times a day with a white cart decorated in photos of various ice cream bars. As he walks by, he leers at me and dings the little...
Reason #797843 I Must Have Been Adopted
Me: Hey, watcha up to?
My Mom: Oh, I'm just buying these stupid plane tickets for this stupid trip to stupid Mexico.
Me: You mean your trip to the resort in Puerto Vallarta?
My Mom: Yes. Where we'll probably catch pig flu. Or get kidnapped.
Me: Probably not.
My Mom: You never know. I can't believe I agreed to go on this trip!
Me: Yeah. I feel really sorry for you. Those are real marriage problems when your husband forces you to take a vacation to Mexico.
My Mom: I swore to myself I'd never go back to Mexico after my last trip there.
Me: When you went to the resort in Cabo last year?
My Mom: Yes. I just don't understand the appeal!
Me: I don't understand how we're related.
"New York is for hustlers." →
genevieveclare: ~Ricky Van Veen Ricky (and a lot of the College Humor crew) was a couple of years above me at Wake. It’s funny to me that some of the kids I played Cranium with once are now major media scenesters in New York. Another great article on the death of print journalism… also known as “my future unemployment.”
Rosie is a sensitive dog. When she was 10 weeks old an ant bite resulted in a 3 a.m. trip to the emergency room for dogs, me bawling my eyes out, and a $650 vet bill that wiped out any “budget” I’d put under “dog” for the year. Of course, if that hadn’t done it, the mange she caught a few months later would have covered it. One tiny bald spot on her back...
The Hangover for the hungover →
When my friend suggested we go see this movie on Friday night when it opened this weekend I said no. I wanted to go out Friday night and not go to a movie. I felt the same way about Saturday. So, we invited a few other friends and went on Sunday. The theater was packed. With a bunch of people our age. Who probably also went out on Friday and Saturday night. Since then, I’ve spoken to...
Tonight, my friend and I caught a ride back home in a cab. Our driver was a man who was in his thirties. He had picked his wife up earlier in the evening and so she was riding with him. The following was their conversation as they listened to a ridiculous hip hop/pop song on the radio:
Driver: What. The. Hell. Is. The. Helen. Keller?
Wife: I love Cracker Barrell. I love it.
Driver: I mean, seriously. What the hell is it? What did that blind lady dance like?
Wife: When we go to the outlets down in Gaffney, I always go to the Cracker Barrell.
Driver: I just don't get it. I'm going to have to look at it on YouTube.
Wife: I really love their macaroni and cheese. Now that is some good stuff.
Driver: It's like that song "Stanky leg." What the hell is a Stanky leg? Nobody nows.
Wife: You should look it up on YouTube if you care so much.
Driver: I'm going to. I looked up Stanky leg. Now I'm going to look up Helen Kelller. I'm going to see what this dance is.
Wife: Yeah. You should do that. We'll do that when we get home.
My neighbor mentioned to me yesterday that my landlord might be considering selling the house I’m currently living in. I’m a writer by trade so I thought maybe I should offer to write up a nice description of the house for her for when she’s looking to sell. I guess it’d be up to her if she wanted to keep in the parentheticals. This cozy (ridiculously tiny) home is located on a small (unmowable)...
"I think it's going to get a lot worse than people... →
An article on distraction. I tried really hard not to get distracted while reading it. I’ve only been on Twitter twice, checked my email once, and read one other article while reading it. Of course, I’m only on the second page. And I just paused to blog it.
'Gay' Penguins Rear a Chick in German Zoo →
Best headline ever.
Me: So, I found out today that I might be on a show on TLC called My First Home.
Everett: Oh no. Sarah. You don't want to do that. You'll look like an idiot. You'll be going into homes and acting like a diva and yelling about mullions and they'll edit it so you'll just look like a crazy person.
Me: I'm not that worried. I heard that they make the people on it look normal.
Everett: That won't happen with you. Besides, you know the camera adds like 100 pounds.
Me: 100 pounds?! Are you saying I should lose weight?
Everett: I'm just saying that if I were going to be on camera with an extra hundred pounds, I'd try to drop a few.
Me: They're talking about starting filming in two weeks. What could I possibly do in two weeks?
Everett: Don't eat. And maybe get a colon cleanse.
Me: Gross. No.
Everett: Fine. But it adds 100 pounds. Don't say I didn't warn you.
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger Remarkably, this is the first time I’ve read this book. I’m not sure how this happened. I mean, I went to high school. And, then to college. I was even an English major in college. I can’t for the life of me figure out how I’d never read this, but have read a ridiculous amount of obscure 19th century British literature. Anyway, so...
At 4:23 this morning I woke up and felt my heart lurch in my chest all at once. That’s an uncomfortable feeling. Outside my window I could hear the pop-pop-pop of gunshots cracking the still night. I slid quietly out of my bed and set my house’s alarm. The beeping woke up Rosie who looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Then, I crawled across the floor and slowly raised one of the blinds, peering out...
This is an excerpt from the character Tyra’s college essay on the show Friday Night Lights. Which I may have mentioned like a 47 times how much I like. I liked her essay so I thought I’d share. Two years ago, I was afraid of wanting anything. I figured wanting would lead to trying and trying would lead to failure. But now I find that I can’t stop wanting. I want to fly somewhere...
True Love Blocked by Technology Problems
Katie: The only crush I've had in the last six months is Riggins.
Me: As in the character on Friday Night Lights?
Me: So how would you say that's going?
Katie: I spent like half an hour today looking for him on Twitter so I could follow him.
Me: Did you find him?
Katie: No. It kept saying that there were "too many tweets and Twitter was over capacity."
Me: I'm so sorry.
Katie: Me too.
So apparently this is the gang who is on my street. (According to my neighbor who heard it from the police.) This would explain: The gunshots I frequently hear, the murders, the pimped out cars, the small aresenal found in the drain across the street, the bullet hole in my neighbor’s car, the prostitutes at 2 a.m., and the general insanity that is the other end of my block. Mostly,...
Godchildren by Nicholas Coleridge When I lived in Atlanta, I did book reviews for the magazine where I worked. It was an awesome part of the job because it meant I was constantly inundated with new books. I loved it. But, let me just say, it also meant reading a lot of absolutely terrible books. Books that I would never pick up except that I had to see if they were worth writing about....