New Year's = Blah Year's

New Year's Eve is probably one of my least favorite "holidays" followed closely by New Year's Day. It's not that I'm opposed to the idea of it. It sounds nice. Like, oh, let's think about this past year and remember all the good things then say good-bye. But I hate saying good-bye. It's bittersweet. And, quite honestly, I think that bittersweet is worse than just plain bad.

It's not just that the day is bittersweet for me but I always have high hopes and it never turns out right. It's partially because I'm usually so focused on Christmas that I never make plans until last minute for New Year's Eve. And that never works.

This year I've forgone the couple's-only party (thanks, Lauren, but I can't. Other times during the year I don't have a problem being single but Christmas and New Year's Eve are the two times of the year that it stings a little), the cousin's family's party (I don't feel very social) and a couple of other invites just because I don't want to be kissed by a stranger (or practical stranger) at the stroke of midnight. I'm just feeling very "blah" about the whole thing.

So, guess what I'm going to be doing? Having dinner with the ex and then going to see a movie. Disfunctional? Probably. But... he's the only one that I feel like I don't have to pretend to be excited about New Year's Eve with. He's even more anti-New Year's than I am.

Enjoy your stupid New Year's Eve! I'm going to go and indulge in a little feeling-sorry-for-myself...

That's A Lot of Somethin'...

While visiting my family in Hanford over the weekend we watched "500 Days of Summer". I've seen the movie before with the non-boyfriend and really loved it. I think it conveys the many different facets of a relationship beautifully. Love is up and down and all over the place. Happy, sad, exciting, devastating...etc. It shows that even if you think you've found the one and even if that one breaks your heart, chances are that you were way off on them being the one anyway. Love sucks sometimes but it's never the end of the world. Appreciate the beautiful parts that it was, open your eyes to the bad things that it was and go on.

I digress...so after suggesting it, I sat down with my cousins and watched. Now, it's not a sexually graphic movie but it does have adult language and adult themes so we waited until the little ones were in bed.

Of course, as it happens, one little one didn't stay in bed. My absolutely adorable baby cousin Jolie wandered out looking for her daddy so he could rock her to sleep in the recliner. We don't really think of it and continue watching the movie. Well, there is this one scene where the female character is trying to loosen up the male character by playing a little game. They're sitting in the middle of a park and she whispers "penis". After a bit of goading from her, he says "penis" just a little louder. In turn, she says it a bit louder, then he says it even louder. So goes the game till she ends up screaming the word and he playfully tackles her and clamps his hand over her mouth. At that point we all start laughing.

Thing is...I'm pretty sure we all forgot that there were little ears listening. All of a sudden we hear (from a sweet little 5 year old's voice), "That's a lot of penis!".

Did that really just come from a 5 year old? Yes. Yes it did. Jeff and Jen, next time I come up I'm going to teach your 3 year old to say va-jay-jay. You're welcome.

Requirements To Be My Man

Will Ferrell is so damn funny that I would almost marry him despite his not-so-good looks. I think Elf may be his finest work. "SANTA?! I KNOW HIM!!!". Seriously, all I have to do is look at him and he makes me want to laugh. And unfortunately, for me, just about all you have to do is to be funny and I'm smitten.

That and be a gangsta...like me.

Ahahaha. Seriously, any guy has gotta have a sense of humor to keep up with me because honestly, I'm freakin' hilarious (at the very least, I make myself laugh).

On a side note, another man I would almost marry despite his not-so-good looks although he has rock hard abs (unlike our dear Will Ferrell) is 50 Cent, or Fity as I like to call him. I mean, really, he's an upstanding guy. He raps about takin' your pants off *just a lil' bit*, get to touchin' and kissin' *just a lil' bit* and....AND if you have a baby by him you'll be a millionaire. I think it sounds like a win/win situation.

So, in closing, if I can find a man with a sense of humor like Will Ferrell, a sense of restraint (He said just a lil' bit!) with a smidgen of gangsta like Fity and the face of Jude Law then.... we'd be all good.

Yawn...

I had no idea that there were so many boring people out there.

Personality? You got one or what, son? Ah, I can see already that you don't.

Goodness, well, alright then. Go enjoy your Toby Keith and keep on being one-dimensional.

One of My Favorite Things

Santa Baby... it's only $15k. I've been an awful good girl. Honest.

New Orleans- Pt. 1

I think it's only right that I share about the trip to New Orleans/Memphis. So...here you go. Try to keep up, monkeys.

Day Numero Uno- Wake up at 3am to catch an 8am flight in San Fran/ Text Lauren to make sure she's awake/ No response/ Have sneaking suspicion but....nah/ Call Lauren, no answer/ Pretty sure my suspicions are correct/Arrive at Lauren's/ No lights on/ Not a good sign/ Knock/ No answer/ Bang as hard as I can on the door/ No answer/ Call her again/ No answer/ Consider climbing her fence but is luckily saved by her answering door/ "What time is it???" asked by a half asleep Lauren/ Oh, it's 4:40am- we needed to leave 40 minutes ago/ "SHIT!"/ Okay, then, I'll be waiting in the car/ 20 minutes later, we're off/ Yada, yada, yada...arrive at airport, take off, it's all good/ Lauren's legs don't fit in a normal sized airplane seat and all I see the whole plane ride is her uncomfortable little face, which is pretty damn funny/ Lay-over in L.A./ Why do men here do their hair and wear real man shoes?/ Why can't men in Monterey do that?/ Why is everyone rude?/ Yay, we're leaving L.A./ Arrive in New Orleans 4 hours later and are off to our fabulous Hotel Monteleone with the help of a $33 cab ride/ Showers & costume change...we're ready to go out/ Dinner at Pat O's with Jambalaya and Crawfish Etouffee/ Hurricane's (oh dear me...holy rum, batman)/ Getting hit on by busser/ Chef coming out of kitchen to look at us (the kitchen door was directly behind my chair...not that far to look)/ By the way, large convention in town and every man walking past our table is middle aged and letting their eyes wander a little too much/ After the uncomfortable dinner we find a club (surprised?)/Cocktail waitress doing body shot off of hairy man's stomach/ Ew/ Meet the guy who was in the Six Flags commercials as the old man dancing...or so he said/ Not really the right approach to pick up chicks but okay/ Have both of our tummies pinched/ Have my ass pinched/ "Don't touch my ass"/ "Seriously, don't touch my ass"/ Leave club...weirdos/ Arrive at new club with live band/ Much less creepy/ Sarah is a happy camper...live music!/ Dance, dance, dance/ Leave at approximately 3am with two stiff drinks in hand/ Lauren falls...but keeps the drink/ Get back to hotel and promptly pass out/ Happy....

Day Two- Itinerary says 8am wake up call/ We wake up around 10am/ Sarah is very hungover/ Truly realize that we have the smallest bathroom ever/ Non-impressive breakfast (which was kind of heartbreaking)/ Antique browsing ($14ok for a clock. For a clock!)/ Swamp tour van picks us up/ Driver gives us the low down on Hurricane Katrina/ Unbelievable...hospitals are still left vacant/ Houses completely deserted/ Didn't realize/ Arrive at swamp 4o minutes later/ They don't take cards/ All we have are cards/ "Are you kidding me?"/ "Well, I guess we could just call it in"/ "Yeah, how about that"/ Captain Jack takes us out/ Sadly, Captain Jack was not Johnny Depp/ Beautiful & peaceful!/ We hold a baby alligator!/ Starting to think Lauren and I are the only blondes in Louisiana from all the attention we're getting from Captain Jack (and the busser the night before)/ Another 40 minute ride back to the hotel... sleepy/ Sit at the Carousel Bar that revolves very slowly/ Doesn't know why she expected anything other than this but...feels like throwing up/ Dinner at Mr. B's/ In love.... Kobe Beef Brisket, Goat Cheese Macaroni and Haricot Verts/ BREAD PUDDING/ Back to hotel/ Watch So You Think You Can Dance/ Asleep by 9pm...which I never ever do/ Ahhh

I think I'm going to have to do this in installments...betcha you're at the edge of your seat, huh? Yeah. I know.

Zombie Lover

I am not the kind of girl who you'd meet and think "Zombie Lover". You'd probably think that I'm the kind of girl who hides her face when watching gory movies, the kind of girl who clutches to the arm of the nearest guy she's watching the movie with, the girly girl.

That's what you get for having preconceived notions about me. I love zombie movies. Seriously. I've seen just about every zombie movie that's come out in the past 10 years. The thing that I love is that there is always a touch of humor in zombie movies...much more so than in your normal slasher flicks. Of course, maybe the humor I find is a bit twisted but you have to admit there is something just a little bit funny about a running over a zombie in your hummer. Twisted, I know. But I'm also the girl who thinks that people falling down is the funniest damn thing she's ever seen. I'm going to be the mom who, when her kids fall down, is going to laugh first and ask if they're okay second. But I digress...

Another thing you may not know is that I routinely have dreams with zombies. They aren't nightmares. I can always outrun the zombies and it's always an enjoyable adrenaline rush to try to get away. While I was on my trip to New Orleans, I had an interesting dream. It was your typical zombie dream. They're coming to get you. You can't quite shake them. Then just as you think the gig is up, you come out on top. The weird thing about this dream was the way in which we came out on top. We had run until we couldn't run anymore. We had no more weapons to fight them off with. We had to stand and fight. Want to know how we fought?

With love.

I'm totally serious. We hugged the zombies. And the zombies went away. They were just misunderstood! All they wanted the whole time was for someone to hold them and tell them it was all going to be alright! It was like a receiving line (a little wedding reference, look it up). A zombie-hugging receiving line.

Me and my sick little brain. You had no idea, did you? Just because I'm this nice little blonde, don't be fooled. It's all a facade...

The Little Things

It's important to take stock of those things that mean the most to you especially at this time of the year. Of course, there are the normal responses when asked what one is thankful for. Family, health, roof over head, food in refrigerator, clothes on back, etc. And I am very thankful for all of these things. I know that I am very blessed. However, I feel that we tend to overlook the small things in life. So I'd like to list a few small things that I am thankful for. They may seems a bit superficial but I can assure you...I'd miss them if I didn't have them.

1. My boobs. I'm not one for cosmetic surgery (remember though, this is my 26 year old self talking. I may change my mind once I hit 50) so I think that if I weren't blessed with natural ta-ta's that I'd just live my life flat. Which would suck.

2. My ass. I realized that neither my dad or my mom have an ass. So I'm not really sure where the bubble butt came from but...I'll take it. Even if my brother calls be "Big Booty Judy".

3. My sense of humor. I think I have to thank my dad for this one. I just can't imagine how miserable life would be without the ability to laugh at oneself and the less than desirable situations that inevitably pop up. Life it too hard sometimes...you gotta break it up with some lightheartedness. It's just plain good for your soul.

4. Music. My life would be gray and boring without music. My entire life has been surrounded by music. I was blessed to grow up learning about all different genres and loving what one can convey through song. It may seem like such a little thing but I can say with certainty that I would be one unhappy individual without music.

5. My year and a half of singleness. I was never the single gal having pretty much had a boyfriend from the age of 15 on. I never thought I'd be single at 26. However, this year has been eye-opening and full of self-discovery. Love truly is blind and I was very lucky to have the blinders removed. So for that, I am thankful. I'm a little over it now, though. Make your move, buddy.

6. Being laid-off. Stupidly loyal...that's me. Walk all over me, take advantage of my kind nature all while making me feel as if I'm not giving enough. Not exactly healthy. Once again, life tends to work itself out. You can't see how unhappy you are until you are out of a situation and sometimes you need a kick in the pants to get out of said situation.

7. Living alone. I love my bed. I love going to bed when I want to. Cooking when I want to. Not worrying about shower schedules. Being as girly as I want to. Singing as loud as I want to without worrying about making a fool of myself. Hell, I can walk around naked if I want to! It's all around a good thing.

8. My friends. Yes, this can be the trite answer when asked what one is thankful for. However, I don't think enough emphasis is put on how important good friends are. This year has been a bit bumpy and I've had amazing friends who have listened to all my bitching and crying and obsessing. They've been my own personal therapists and I don't know that I'd be in such a good place if it weren't for them.

9. Babysitting. Wait...what? Yes. Babysitting. It makes me feel better about not having kids yet because by the end of the day I'm ready to send them home and have me a glass of wine. And for that, I am thankful.

10. My new found backbone. Some of you may say "Wait a minute, Sarah. You don't really have a backbone". Well, jerks, yes I do. It may not be a strong bitchy backbone but nonetheless, it's there. Which is more I could have said a year ago. My backbone isn't like a roided out gym addict. It's more like a genteel southern lady who can smile at you while she tells you to go to hell.

There are my top ten. Of course, there are the truly little things to be thankful for like coffee, wine, cheesecake, chocolate, sushi... are you seeing a pattern here? Sometimes, I am really amazed that I'm not 300lbs. Good gracious. Add that on to my list of thankfuls! Not being 300lbs. Anywho....remember the little things. It's what it's all about.

Pet Peeve

I really hate it when people spell "weird" wrong.

That's wierd, right?

Fickle Fingernails

I hate when I spend half an hour painting my nails, taking time to make them perfect, making sure I don't touch anything until they're dry and then...

My woman chromosome kicks in (yes, that's what I'm calling it. Back off).

I suddenly hate the color I picked. Fickle female.

Boys, I can totally see how we could drive you crazy. Not that you're any better but... I can sympathize. I'm kind of driving myself crazy at the moment.

Bah. Stupid girly tendencies. Life would be so much easier if I were butch. But alas...

Romanticizing

Oh boy. It's bad news when I realize that I've intentionally played not one, but two, Celine Dion songs.

Fall & holidays always do this to me. I'm a romantic by nature anyway but throw in chilly weather and holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas that make you take stock of your life and who surrounds you; I'm screwed.

I want hand holding and cuddling. Badly. And kissing. Good Lord, the kissing. Damn.

Well, whatever. I'm just going to go back to torturing myself and listen to Celine. It's half Glee's fault also...that show makes me want to listen to show tunes and ballad singers.

Sigh... back to the sappy songs.

"Don't know much about your life/ Don't know much about your world/ But don't want to be alone tonight on this planet they call earth/ You don't know about my past and/ I don't have a future figured /And maybe this is going too fast/ And maybe it's not meant to last/ But what do you say to taking chances/ What do you say to jumping off the edge/ Never knowing if there's solid ground below/ Or hand to hold/ Or hell to pay.../What do you say?"

Someone stop me. Now where's that cologne sample...

My Next Step Is A Nunnery

Hi Creepball. Guess what? You are creepy! You show up places you're not invited and then instead of talking to me yourself, you have your friend whom I don't even know come and grab my arm to talk to me about you. The first couple of minutes I was just staring at him trying to figure out who the hell he was talking about! You and I had one very short date (in which I paid for half) about a year ago! You call me even though I've made it clear that I don't want to date you. You call, you text, you call again. I don't answer, don't reply. I don't like to repeat myself. And yet, you keep calling. So along with being creepy, you're not that bright.

So stop. Bow out with grace. Before I have to send my brother after you.

And a little tip...if a girl goes on a date with you it's typically a good idea not to say (while drinking a stiff drink), "Yeah, I really shouldn't drink. I get really angry and hit things when I drink". Just sayin'... I mean, she'd figure it out eventually but you're not helping your case.

And to the rest of you jerks...I'm really in no mood. If you're not a complete narcissist, you're only looking to hook up or you have nothing at all to offer anyone. Actually, most of the time it's all of the above!

Just don't talk to me. Thanks. Got my eyes set anyway...

Let Me Go Get My Plaid Skirt...

So, my non-boyfriend (as I named him in the previous post about my mom commenting on his nipples. Oh, yes. She did.) purchased Men's Health magazine a few days ago. It has since been left sitting on my coffee table causing me a tad bit of discomfort.

Now, I'm sure you're asking yourself what in the world a men's magazine can possibly do to cause me discomfort. That's a good question. Let me explain.

I adore good cologne on a man. It just about makes my toes curl. If a guy is wearing a good cologne and I like him...ooooh, buddy. Self control just about goes out the window and my thoughts turn to that of a school girl who likes breaking the rules.

In this magazine that's sitting on my coffee table, there is a cologne sample for Acqua Di Gio by Armani. Oh. Dear. God. I can't get enough of it. Now, don't think that I'm just sitting on my couch with a cologne sample stuck up against my nose. No. I'm not that masochistic. Without even touching the magazine I keep getting random whiffs of it throughout the day.

And. It's. Killing. Me.

But I don't want to get rid of the magazine because it's a good kind of killing. Mmm.

Wow, I sound like a crack addict. Anyway, boys that I like, want to make wooing me extra easy? Go get yourself a bottle of that cologne. Remember... school girl. Skirt and all. Need I say more?

Chump

Hey, buddy. Yeah, you. The guy wearing khaki pants and navy blue blazer. Just wanted to let you know that you look like a chump.

That's all. Carry on.

Case of Vertigo

Life is a-changin' and it's kind of makin' my head spin.

It's just a bizarre feeling. For the first time in my life I have no strings holding me to anyone or anything. Sounds great, right? Well, maybe it would be if I weren't so damn indecisive in the first place. Seriously... I'm the the girl who takes twenty minutes to decide what I want at a restaurant that I've been to many times over again. I'm the girl who picks out something in a store, walks around with the intent to purchase it and then talks myself out of it right as I'm about to check out. I'm the girl who can be immobilized on a free day because I can't decide what to do. And it's not as if my current dilemma is just my dinner choice or which color shirt to buy. This is the rest of my life. Okay, that may be a bit dramatic but...it could be.

Over-analyzing? Probably. That's me. It's what I do. But don't go judging. At least once I do make my decision, I am fully committed to it. In all reality, it's quite an honorable character trait. Or maybe that's just me rationalizing it...

I think what I'm freaking out the most about is that not one option is comfortable and/or easy. Usually there is at least one option that is comfortable, right? Right?? Nope. I either take a huge chance in one direction or huge chance in another. So then I think, 'Okay, then decide with your head and not your heart'. Well, my head and heart are equally invested in both directions so that's no help at all.

My move is to just breathe. Take each day at a time. Let time tell. Be still... and all that. Sounds like the best path, right?

Sure. Easy for you to say, you people with all of your strings and all your attachments. You're just a bunch of jerks is what you are.

Feeling Like The Wicked Witch

Dear Kid-Skateboarding-Outside-My-Window,


I will destroy you and your little board, too.


In All Seriousness,

Sarah Ward

Happy, My Ass

Dear Always,

I don't know who in the hell does your marketing but I'm fairly sure it was a man. Your little quote, "Have a Happy Period", is complete and utter bull honkey. No woman, ever, has a happy period. It's not that we don't want a happy period but it's just not a possibility. Nothing about it is happy and every time I hear your commercial I want to throw things at my t.v.

So, just stop lying. We're not going to have a happy period if we buy your product and you're insulting our intelligence by insinuating that we will. My recommendation..."It sucks. We can help". Or, "Always + A Bottle of Wine + Chocolate = A Bearable Period".

Thank you for your time,

Sarah Ward

Nipples

I've gotta love my family.

I introduced my...um...what's the correct title for him? Non-boyfriend? We'll go with that. I introduced my non-boyfriend to my mom this week. Normally, when I'm introducing someone that I like to my family I'm a little apprehensive. The one person in my family that I can normally count on to be fairly normal (at least at first) is my mom. She can be a bit overprotective and questioning but I'm fairly sure most mothers are that way.

Well, I must have caught her on a bad night. The very first thing she says to him after the "hello"'s and "nice to meet you"'s is...get ready...

NIPPLES.

She says, "Oh, you do have nipples!".

....

Oh dear God.

...

Without missing a beat, he responds while looking down at his chest,"Yeah, I've tried to get rid of them but I just can't seem to".

Oh, non-boyfriend. You just kind of made me love you.

Turns out she said DIMPLES but all we heard was nipples. I mean, wow. Well, now. At least meeting the rest of the family won't be so shocking.

My brother and Dad ended up coming over for dinner and I'm sitting at the dinner table stealing glances at him just to see how he's taking the craziness. My brother is like a stand up comic/dancer/five year old, my mom is being a typical Italian mama tellin my Dad and brother what they need to do if they know what's good for them, my Dad is singing Elvis...

Oh dear God. Why did I invite him again?

Good news is that this whole debacle was on Thursday and he's come around since then so I'm guessing that they didn't scare him too badly.

Maybe I'll invite him for Thanksgiving and my dad will say penis. One can only hope.

You Don't Have To Be June Cleaver But...

Girls...

Learn how to cook. I know that we're in a modern age where women aren't barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen all day just waiting for their husband to come home from work so they can pour them a scotch and rub their feet but... you're still women.

It's also just generally a good idea to know how to take care of yourself. Plus if you ever have kids you might want to know how to feed them something other than microwavable items. It's not demeaning for you to know what a spatula is.

On the flip side, it's equally important for men to know how to fix things in and around the house. It's incredibly sexy but it also shows us that you're capable of handling yourself. Hell, if you straight up build something from scratch I have to hold myself back from just throwing you up against a wall and...well, good stuff. So, take the hint boys.

Training Wheels

Love is like riding a bike. Well, at least for this analogy it is.

When you're young, there is puppy love. It's intense and you can't imagine another person you will love more. The thing is that you still have training wheels on. You can't live together, you can't get married (at least not for many years), you have your family to make sure that boundaries are kept. You're safe.

Then you grow up. You experience that first real true and crazy love. This is even more intense than the puppy love because there are no training wheels. No boundaries set by parents. You can go all in which is... terribly dangerous. Hopefully you've learned some life lessons from the puppy love but other than that experience, you have nothing to go on. You just have to hope for the best, give your best and go from there. Unfortunately, often times, this is where you'll experience your first heart break. You fall off the bike, scratch yourself all up.

Fall enough times and it's a bit scary to get back on. Those scars don't entirely heal.

That's where I am. I feel ready again but...can I have my training wheels back?

Non-Fashionista Opinion

A couple of fall trends I am so not getting:

1. Open toed boots. I mean really...how is that attractive? You have to wear socks underneath those things and that's just not cute!

2. Leather leggings. First, leggings in general are a little too 1990 for me. If I wore something when I was a child then I just don't think I should wear it as an adult. For example, jellies. Cute on kids, not so cute on adults. Then you have the whole leather thing! Leather is good for four things and four things only: shoes, belts, jackets and purses. Shame on whoever came up with this.

3. Shoulder pads. Yes. You heard correct. Women are wearing these God awful things again. Why? Who knows. Lord knows men don't like them. Why would they? "Hey, man. Did you see my girlfriend over there? Yeah, she's the one with the shoulders like a quarterback". No. Just no! I thought these things died a horrible death. Who resurrected them? Let me tell you something, Mr. I-Think-Shoulder-Pads-Are-Cool...you suck.

4. Ruffles. To you fashion designers out there let me point something out to you. The average size of the American woman is a size 12-14. See what I'm getting at? No? Okay...let me spell it out for you. You know those models that you're dressing? Yeah. They are a size 0. They NEED ruffles on them so you can SEE them when they're walking down that cute little runway. The average woman? Is generally no where near being so stick thin that curves disappear. It's actually the opposite. The average woman likes to down play the curves just a bit, not add more on. See what I'm getting at? A little common sense would be appreciated. Thanks.


A couple of fashion trends that I love:

1. Satin Bows on Shoes. It just looks like a 1940's pin-up girl should be wearing them and that is always a good thing. Always.

2. Wavy hair. You're about to see a trend...1940's-esque. Classic, touchable, sexy and beautiful.

3. Leopard print. Now before you go "Whoa there, crazy girl!", hear me out. It has to be done very, very, VERY well and must be inconspicuous but when done right it's just enough naughty to catch attention. Love it on a shoe or pencil skirt.

4. Red. Arguably one of my favorite colors. I love it in lipstick, shoes. dresses, tops, nail polish...you name it. Now if only I could afford the red patent leather Christian Louboutin's...

Red Light?

Dry spell...that's what I feel like I'm in. And no, you dirty monkeys, not that kind of dry spell although...well, that's just a whole other subject. No, I mean a witty dry spell. A cognitive presence kind of a dry spell. Not sure where my mind has been lately but it's as if it took a little vacation and left me a note saying "Don't even try to look for me. I'll be back when I'm damn good and ready to come back". What a jerk. Jerky brain.

I can't seem to focus. On anything. For any length of time. It's just getting ridiculous. For example...

I ran a red light the other day. And not like "Oh, hey. That light is going to turn red". Nope. More like, "Oh, hey. That's light has been red for a minute or so. What does red mean again? Go? Slow? No. That's not it. Geez. It's right there on the tip of my tongue. Hm. Oh, my phone is ringing. I should answer that. Dang, where is my purse? Did I put it in the front seat or the back seat? Hey, sounds like someone is saying something. I'm hearing 'red light, stop, red light, stop, red light, stop'. Wait a second...red means...almost got it...red means...stop! Stop! Oh crap! Well, might as well commit to the law breaking". And I just cruised right through it. Meanwhile, my two passengers are an equal measure of amused and horrified. My response? Eh. We're fine. What's all the hullabaloo about?

I'm kind of freaking myself out. It's almost as if I'm on some type of mood enhancer because of my semi-loopy and oblivious tendencies at the moment. Has my new found peace given me a form of neurosis? If so, isn't that just more proof that life is the ultimate irony? Happiness gives you neurosis. So then that would mean that unhappiness gives you clarity?

Eh.

...Dirty monkeys. Enough philosophy tonight. I think I just blew my own mind...wherever it may be.

Rain

I'd seriously consider moving to Seattle just to have rain and thunderstorms.

But for now I'll take this mild rain in Monterey. All I need right now is a fireplace, hot cocoa, a cashmere sweater and a puppy.

Sigh.

Peace

Over the past couple of days I've had this strange feeling. It's been as if a puzzle piece has finally slipped into it's correct spot. I have peace.

I thought that I felt at peace before this. Thought that I had come to terms with what has changed in this past year and that I had moved on. I see now that I hadn't. I'm not quite sure what has changed now but...maybe you run your stubborn head up against a wall for so long and then the wall breaks.

A few things that I feel peaceful about:

1. My Ex. I held on for a long time even after we started talking again. Thinking, hoping, that someday he'd figure it out. Well, he's not going to. I've said that before but I truly believe it now and the false hopes are diminished. I also know that I deserve a whole hell of a lot more than he either can or is able to give. And that's not going to change.

2. My mother. My mom and I hadn't seen each other in nearly 3 months. We just started talking again after I wrote a heartfelt letter explaining why I took so much space. Needless to say, I was not met with the reaction/consideration that a daughter should receive from a parent and I was tired. Wore out. I took a break. But...we're talking again and she's making efforts towards a mother/daughter relationship. Which is huge. Which is giving me a great amount of peace. I love my mom. We've never had a normal mother/daughter relationship and it's something that I've always longed for.

3. The rest of my family. My dad and my brother are creatures of habit. They are who they are. I've always, since I was little, have tried to change them. Tried to make them see things the way that I do. I feel as if I've finally learned a great truth... they aren't going to change. Whether their actions are unhealthy or not, they are grown men. They know full well what they are doing and I can't do anything about that. I also can't spend my life worrying for them. Actions have consequences and I'll have to deal with the emotional ramifications of that at some point but, for now, I will love them and enjoy them for who they are. Flaws and all.

4. The rest of my life. My career, my love life (or lack there of) and my finances may not be where I want them to be but I know that this point in my life is crucial to the success of the rest of my life. I need this time alone. This time to truly understand me. I have time to work the rest of the details out. And the most beautiful thing is...I know that I am going be golden. I know that I won't accept less from myself for myself. So what's the point in worrying?

If you could take a look at the me of today and compare her to the me of a year ago you wouldn't even know we were one in the same. Thank God we are so malleable...even if in the process of change we feel as if it we might break.

"Consider it pure joy to face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish it's work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything" - James 1: 2-4

Dreams

I don't know what the deal has been lately but I've been having freakishly vivid dreams. They haven't been nightmares or anything just...really life-like.

I had a dream last night that a bride and groom that I worked with two years ago were working for me. I was outside of our showroom which we had just painted and I was really happy with the new paint colors. Then these two people (whom, in the dream, I didn't realize were my past clients but did realize worked for me) walk up. The chick is talking smack about my paint choices and the dude is trying to get her to keep quiet. Then I walk up and am all like, "Laurel, you don't like the paint? Well, I picked it. If you don't like it then you can just leave". In the dream I'm also going over financial calculations and contracts with my dad. The really weird thing is that it all made sense...like I'm actually doing work in my sleep. Very strange.

So, that's been my dream pattern for the past two or three weeks. I don't quite know what to make of it. My dreams are usually all mush...all kinds of weird concepts that don't make any sense once I wake up.

Maybe my brain is bored. That's probably it. I'm so anxious to get this business off the ground. I know that one day I'm going to look back and wish I had embraced the bum-ness of being unemployed a little more than I am but...eh. I don't like feeling like a waste of space.

It's such a weird time in my life. It's good but...still weird. It's as if everything is at a stand-still. As if everything is moving around me but I'm stuck in the place I stand. The strangest thing about it is that I'm strangely alright with it. I know that it's not a forever type of a thing. Big things are on the horizon so for now I just need to sit tight and enjoy the down time.

And enjoy the freakishly realistic dreams. Hopefully my next one will involve Brad Pitt or Robert Pattinson. Hell, maybe both of 'em! Oooh...I like where that's going. Yes sir!

Brownies

Brownies...the breakfast of champions.

Gah! This is exactly why I cannot bake when living alone. No self control whatsoever.

Maybe I should invest in a shock collar...I'll just wear it when I've baked yummy goodness. Man, I'm a genius!

Matter of fact...I think I'm on to something. It could be the next big thing in the world of weight loss. Instead of going through expensive surgery or buying pills that never work, people could wear my shock collar. It will go off if anything with more that 2 grams of fat come within 6" of it. It will be like negative reinforcement (which we all know is the best kind of reinforcement). I'll call it "Pavlov's Collar". Ha!

Just three easy payments of $29.99! Act now and I'll throw in this handy dandy refrigerator alarm. It'll send a ear drum bursting sound throughout your entire house if you so much as walk into your kitchen past 9pm. No one needs to eat after 9pm, fattie.

I can just see it now...Sarah, the obese millionaire who made her millions keeping America skinny. 'Cause let's be honest, If I'm a millionaire then I'm eating whatever the hell I want. Even brownies for breakfast.

Yes Ma'am

I've always had a thing for accents. Doesn't really matter what type...English, Scottish, Irish, Italian, Southern...they are all deliciously yummy to me. I admittedly have taken for granted the Southern accent. Living in the South for so long and being with a Southern boy for five years took away the novelty of it.

However, since the ex and I broke up I haven't been around any Southern boys. I forgot what that accent can elicit from me. Like an internal monologue going something like this...'Oh hot damn!'.

Today I was wandering around the wine section at Cost Plus when a cute stocker dude walked up to me to ask if he could help me with anything. First thing I noticed was that he had an adorable Southern accent. Definitely didn't hurt the fact that he was adorable anyway. I said 'no, thank you' and he responded with a very sweet and very sincere 'yes ma'am'.

Whoa. Something about it almost knocked me off my feet.

California boys have definitely got a thing or two to learn from Southern men. Chivalry, manners, politeness and respect...just to name a few.

Boys from the South...if you want to see women falling all over your every syllable, move to California. You will pretty much have your pick of any lady here...well, as long as you are one of the sweet well mannered Southern boys. White trash Southern boys can stay home. No one wants to play with you.

Spiders

I think they are out to get me. Now, before you say, 'Sarah, I think you're a little paranoid', just hear me out.

My dislike for spiders started at a very young age. I've been terrified of them for as long as I can remember. However, being the animal lover that I am, I made a pact with the spiders. If they were outside then I would not kill them. I may run away screaming but I wouldn't kill them. If they were inside...well, then I'd have every right to end their little blood-sucking lives.

It doesn't matter if they're big or small, hairy or not. They creep me out. Think about it. One minute you see them sitting on your wall or wherever the hell they are just being evil then you look away for one split second and they're gone. Where'd they go? Probably up your pant leg. To kill you. Or at least maim you to the best of their ability.

A little over-dramatic? Okay, fine. Maybe. But this week I have found a spider on my nightstand, one hanging from my recessed lighting in my bedroom, one in my shower and one, get this, on my freakin' bedspread. Hitting below the belt, if you ask me. Not to mention the fact that I have about ten webs outside on both of my patios and outside of my front door. They are descending. So, no. I am not being paranoid. They are out to get me.

Luckily for me I have lots of shoes to squish them with. It's on, evil spiders.

Brunette Arch-Nemesis

I realized the other night while in the bathroom at the local movie theatre that I don't like brunette girls. Some chick made a point to walk in front of me and then stood right in my walking path. It may have hit me a little harder than usual because, well, hormones are a bitch. But this chick was a bigger bitch than my hormones.

Then it dawned on me...all of my close friends are blondes. All the girls that I've ever had beef with have been brunettes. The slutty girls who hit on my boyfriend right in front of my face were brunettes, the chicks who are pains in the ass when you go out are usually brunettes, dirty look givers typically are brunettes....do you see a pattern here?

Now, this is just a general observation. I do have a few friends that are brunettes but I see them as the exception to the rule. Generally, if I meet a brunette I don't like her.

Not to worry though, girls who are brunettes! Don't be a bitch or a pain in the ass and have some consideration for others and we can probably be friends.

You may have to dye your hair, though. It's totally worth it.

There Go My Horticultural Dreams....

I'm a good cook. I can clean house with the best of them. I can bake just about any dessert. I used to think that I was a domestic goddess. Of course, that was before I had the brilliant idea to go buy a handful of plants for my patios.

Yeaaaaah. I'm a plant killer. No green thumb on this chick.

Martha Stewart, I am not. Damn. And I had such high hopes.

Begging You For Mercy

You...you're the single most confusing person I have ever met. You keep coming and going out of my life and I can't see any pattern to it. You constantly make me laugh, you fix my sink in 2 minutes flat without me even asking (which is indescribably sexy for some reason) when for months I've been rigging it the best I could, you take me to dinner and lunch and the movies. You spend the night on my couch. You go to dinner with my dad and me and talk about dark matter and black holes. You tell me that you have no intention of putting time and emotion into this and yet you spend most of your time with me. You don't take advantage of me even though I'm sure you must know that I'm attracted to you. You aren't like every other man I've ever met.

I'm fairly sure that you're only a breeze in my life and I'm not even sure that I want more from you than that but still...still I don't want to not have you around. It's a horribly ambiguous situation and it's more than a little ironic that I'm even entertaining the idea of you considering that I'm the girl that was clamoring for "black & white" a mere 8 months ago from the rebound boy. Now I'm the girl enjoying the gray area...in a very masochistic kind of a way.

The messed up thing is that you probably don't even have any idea that you're doing this to me. You have no idea that I'm dying to know what it'd be like to kiss you, have no idea that I have a raging crush the likes of which I haven't experienced since high school. Have no idea that I am so not that girl who chases after a man who isn't interested. Have no idea that you are the most intriguing and enjoyable person I have met in a very long time.

So for now, for an indeterminable amount of time, I'm here. The girl with the unrequited crush. The girl feeling foolish, silly and vulnerable.

What to do...what to do.

What's Wrong With You, Willis?

Lately I've had quite a bit of time on my hands. Usually, that isn't so good because, well, I'm a thinker. I'm an over-analyzer. I take a simple "yes" or "no" and go "why?". Which it completely contradictory to my desire to have life as black and white as possible. Nevertheless, that is who I am and this is what I've been thinking lately...

I've become a little fascinated with this whole "being single" thing. Reason being is that I haven't been single from the age of 16 on. I went from one long-term relationship right into another. I am now 26 and am, for the first time, experiencing time alone. It's been almost a year of singleness and this is what I have observed in the world of dating:

It seems like the only men that I've encountered have either been complete neanderthals and cannot, for the life of them, carry on a decent conversation or (this one being the real kicker) are fairly decent people but have no desire whatsoever to date. They want to, for lack of a better term, fuck.

Let's dissect each of these specimens, shall we? The first, the neanderthal. He is a man with no real education, no ambition, with mommy and daddy's money who at first glance appears to be an alright guy. Not great, not boyfriend material but okay. Then, and brace yourself, he opens his mouth. All you get are one word answers to questions, his questions are shallow and more often than not, conversation killers. Now, that may seem as if he isn't really into you but, no. Everything you say he eats up, he looks interested, he looks at you expectantly as you finish your side of the conversation. Then there is the awkward silence when it's obvious that you've hit the bottom of his simple mind. Now you have to excuse yourself from him with as much grace as you possibly can muster and run to your nearest girlfriend to tell her just how socially inept he is. She will of course give you an apologetic look and say something like 'but he's so cute' and chances are that yes, he was so cute. Unfortunately, cute just doesn't cut it.

Now onto our next man. The anti-commitment guy, the guy who wants nothing more from you than a night (or how ever many nights he can get away with) of crazy-hot sex. Now, this is a two part one.

There is one guy who is the anti-gentleman, anti-decency guy. This is the guy who comes up to you, pushes as many limits as he can, makes as many dirty comments as possible just to see how far you are willing to go. Maybe he'll hide his douche bag tendencies for a bit but trust me, before the night is through he'll ask to come back to your place, try to touch you in an inappropriate way, try to kiss you and then, when you reject these come ons, he'll be gone before you can blink an eye.

Part two of the anti-commitment guy is not necessarily a bad guy. Chances are that he is actually educated, can entertain you, make you laugh and gets along with your crowd of friends. Here's the kick in the pants- he has absolutely no desire to be in a monogamous relationship. Oh, sure, he's fine if you just want to mess around a bit but you talk about going to dinner sometime or hanging out any time earlier than 11pm and he's shaking in his boots. He has no desire to take you out on a proper date. No desire to have any kind of ties that bind.

Now, gentlemen, if you're the last guy, let me tell you something. Not every girls has a white dress picked out or has a date that she has to be married by. She isn't going to meet you and automatically have plans to have your children. It's just...well, it's nice to meet someone who isn't completely shallow, with whom you can have an intelligent conversation with, who can make you laugh without the dirty nuances, who actually has goals and a job.

So, after meeting all of these men at one point or another in the past year, I'm a little over it. It's starting to take a toll on my self assuredness. I cook, I clean, I am educated, I like to have fun, I have goals and hell, I'm going to say it, I'm a hot tamale. Boys, open your eyes and take me on a damn date. I swear I won't demand you give up your entire life for me.

I won't even demand a 2 carat ring from you. It only has to be 1.5 carats.

Oh come on. I kid! I kid!

My Wishlist

So, about 2 months ago I was laid off. I haven't really written about it because quite frankly, it's a little too depressing. 4 years of my life, of pure hard work, of way too many hours just down the drain. I know that when one door closes another one opens (which was actually my fortune in my cookie last night- coincidence, I think not) but it still hurts to have such a major change made for you. I think I was in shock for at least a month.

Anyway, since I've been laid off I am, not surprisingly, a bit broke. Not that they paid me nearly enough to start with but I'm still feeling the crunch. I've found that online "wish" shopping helps. It's shopping without actually going into debt and for that fact alone it's pretty fabulous.

So here are my top items I want once I do have a little more (or a lot more) of a bankroll:
At Least 10 pairs of Super Hot Pumps in Every Color I Can Find/ At Least 7 Business Appropriate Outfits/ Cashmere Sweaters in Every Color/ A Good Raiding of Victoria's Secret for Lacy Bras and Underwear in Every Color/ Drawer Full of Pajamas/ A Big Gorgeous Coach Purse/ Upholstered Headboard/ Silk Drapes (So that I can replace these damn vertical blinds)/ Persian Rug/ Manicure & Pedicure Every Week/ Hair 'Did' Every Couple of Weeks/ Flat Screen T.V./ Lots More Pillows For My Bed/ And Last But Most Definitely Not Least...Lexus IS.

Ah...it's been said that diamonds are a girl's best friend but I'm here to tell you that's simply not true. It's too narrow of a statement. You want to know what a girl's best friend is? Shopping. Pure and simple.

But of course, diamonds always do help...

How I Love Thee

Michael Kors...oh how I love thee.

You're welcome for the free props. Send me free clothes now. Thanks. You're the best.

I Wonder...

How can I lose so much hair on a daily basis and not be bald? Seriously. It's a little ridiculous.

Toby Keith I Hate You

Toby Keith is one of many musicians that I really don't get. Wait, let me rephrase that. I get him. I get that he is a good ole boy from the country, raised right wing, raised not to question the right wing, raised to be afraid and threatened by anything that is different. Got it. But what I don't get is his popularity. I don't get why he has a record deal. Okay, so he's got patriotism. Yeehaw. Does he communicate it in an intelligent, respectful way? No. Now don't think that I'm siding with the Dixie Chicks after their whole feud. I think they were equally disrespectful as he was even if they were able to communicate their point in a slightly more well-spoken way. Is his music especially poignant or entertaining? In my opinion (which is highly regarded!), no. Not really. Of course that could be the dumb-ass-ness shining through to his music and affecting my point of view. Not sure.

I think my real point is that I don't like dumb people. If you know that you aren't good with things like "words" and "phrases" then just don't speak. That's especially true if you're a figure in the spotlight. Just do your job (which is to entertain) and hush up.

You probably shouldn't drive either because I'm sure you're one of the dumbasses that rides your brake all the way through a green light.

To end this lovely post (because you all know how enlightening this has been)...I also hate Nickelback. It's called singing not grunting. Learn the difference.

I promise to be more positive next time...perhaps talk of artists I love? Ooh goody!

He's Just Not That Into You B.S.

Why do we do it? Honestly? I have several girlfriends who are all in less than ideal situations with men and I wonder...why? All of these girls are street smart, educated, well-bred, beautiful and have a lot to offer. But somewhere along the way they got involved with douchebags. Men who are less than them, men who use them, hurt them, humilate them. The men that I'm talking about have little or no education, little or no manners, little or no social etiquette...and quite frankly aren't all that good looking. These girls have picked men that are underneath them and because of that they are having their hearts being trampled on over and over again.

Now don't let me exclude myself from this observance. I'm doing exactly the same thing. I've got an ex-boyfriend whom I still see, still yearn for, still want in many ways. I'm trying very hard to extinguish these feelings because I see (or am trying to see) that I am worth more than what he is willing to give. However, the men that I am attracted to are basically, jerks. I've come to realize this. The few that I've been interested in since the ex haven't taken me on any dates, they haven't gone out of their way to see me, they haven't shown any willingness to go the extra mile. They've done nothing but enjoy my thoughtfulness, my kindness, my fabulous company (if I do say so myself). And for what? Why do I extend myself to men who refuse to meet halfway? Why does any woman do it?

In this day and age women can accomplish so much- and often times do! Many have successful careers, husbands, children, aging parents...then add on the normal day-to-day tasks that women are responsible for like laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, etc. and it's a full load. Why can women have it all in most ways yet seem to lack that one truly important part of life, a partner to share it with? And not just a husband. No. I'm talking about a full on partner. Someone who understands that obligation should be reciprocal, respect should be equal and that a common search for the good and beautiful things in life should be present.

Have we as a society executed men's masculinity? Is this some kind of a counter-culture to the sexual revolution? The man that isn't really a man but is trying to show that he is a man by being and doing whatever the hell he wants to be, damn the consequences? The video games, the devil-may-care attitudes, the fear of commitment... I'm seeing that all over the place.

Either way, I'm disgusted. I'm fed-up. Men...grow the fuck up. Because you know what? You've got beautiful, thoughtful, funny, educated, I-Can-Pay-My-Own-Way women in front of you and you're about to blow it all away because you are so dedicated to your role as "Douchebag of the Week".

And, dude, if you take my girl to a bar and take off with another chick 20 minutes later...well, don't blame me if your dick ends up in a glass of ice needing to be sewn back on. I'm just saying, d-bag. Grow up.

Something to say...

...but it just won't come. Perhaps I should start with the random little things that are on my mind.

Life...is it meant to feel this blinding? Where to next...where to go from here....will it ever make sense? While I feel that way now, I look back to where I was five years ago and realize that life makes much more sense than it did. What is the saying? Youth is wasted on the young? Maybe life is just one big ball of irony.

Work...are we meant to spend 50 hours of our weeks there? Really? Is that what it's all about? And where does it all stop? We all try to be better than the rest of our coworkers, try to give 110%. And if our fellow coworkers are giving 110% then by god, we better give 115%. If they are working 10 hour days then we better be working 11 hour days. Is this a natural progression into work completely taking over our lives? Or is this just me and my crazy job? Either way, I find myself living for my one day off (which has been a bit of the norm lately). When I do get two days off in a row it's as if I've gotten a weeks vacation. I just don't think this is how it's supposed to be.

Love...I have just three words for this. Men are stupid. I'm sure I'll re-address this many, many times.

Truly random thoughts... Jude Law is beautiful, Jack Johnson's music is like food for my soul, coffee in the morning and wine in the evening are two of the best parts of life, finding that your ex-boyfriend of 5 years lives across the street from you shows God does exist and he's got a messed up sense of humor and my final thought : a good girlfriend is worth her weight in gold. A good boyfriend is... the stuff of fiction.