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.