I have previously mentioned that I've gotten into watching old re-runs of Family Ties. And did not realize how many "very special episodes" there were. That was such a thing in the 80s - a "very special episode" of some sitcom that dealt with "heavy" issues like drugs, drinking, and - in the case of my favorite Punky Brewster episode of all time - getting trapped in a refrigerator while playing Hide and Seek. I guess there aren't that many sitcoms even on TV anymore - and the reality shows pretty much cover drinking and drugs every week anyway. But I would secretly love for Snooki to get trapped in a fridge on a "very special episode" of Jersey Shore. She would probably fit quite well. She's really small.
Just heard the acclaimed Dr. Sanjay Gupta on Ryan Seacrest's radio show. He was talking about radiation in Japan and his otherwise amazing career on CNN, etc. While saying goodbye, he actually told Ryan, "You're an inspiration." Um, really? Is it opposite day? Shouldn't Seacrest be telling GUPTA that?? Sheesh.
Had yet another first date last night, and literally the first thing out of the guy's mouth was "Well, YOU'RE tall." Um, thanks? Then there was something about an ex-wife and having to call the cops after she tried to choke him at a restaurant...after that I kind of tuned out. At least the salmon was good.
Is anyone watching that show "America's Next Great Restaurant?" The contestants come up with a concept for a new restaurant and the winner gets to open it in three cities. (The ideas for reality shows just never stop, do they.) One guy has decided to focus on meatballs/Italian fare, and his proposed name: SAUCY BALLS. Really?! PASS.
Had the best time in Vail/Beaver Creek this weekend. Hated to "Leave the Beav." Which was the best name for a ski run ever. And got me thinking that I would like to name ski runs for a living. Some of my top choices: Baby Got Back Bowl; Jungle Fever/ Bieber Fever (tie); OMG!; It's Britney, Bitch; Mazel Tov! (I say, the more exclamation points in skiing, the better); Yippie Kai Yay; May the Schwarz Be With You; and of course, Don't Break Anything. The trip had way too much awesomeness to capture in this blog post, but here are some dirty bits. *Dude that got arrested for wearing ski pants at a bar after 9pm. I am NOT kidding. *Naked lady roaming around the sauna, doing...naked things. On more than one occasion. Disinfectant, much?? *The mulleted wonder who was all of 22 and who all THREE of us made out with in the same night. Oh the humanity. *Raging Republican cab driver and weirdo tennis coach/ski instructor who were name-dropping like it was going out of style. I don't care that you skiied with Darryl "Moose" Johnston. Really. I don't. *$60 cab rides. Each way. Excellent. *Amazeballs cinnamon-scented neck pillows in the spa that I really almost stole. I also almost stole a pillow off my bed. What. It's the Ritz. That shiz is NICE. *The guy-to-girl ratio in ski resorts. Winning... *The fact that I somehow only spent $100 in cash on all food and drink for the weekend. The secret? Stocking up on freebies around the hotel. Apples at the gym? Don't mind if I do. Trail mix and banana chips in the spa? Sure thing! Asking for extra water bottles at turn-down service? You betcha. I'm the cheapest bastard who ever set foot in a Ritz-Carlton. And damn proud of it. :)
My sweet Tar Heels lost yesterday. Boo. But I can take solace in the fact that we got further in the tournament than Duke. Coming home from Colorado yesterday, we had to change planes in San Antonio. Which was where certain games were being played - the KU-VCU game, for example. I have never seen so many freaking Kansas fans in my entire life. Our plane was FULL of Jayhawks. Depressed Jayhawks, at that. And for once, we felt each other's pain. Ah, college basketball. Bringing losers together since the 1940s.
One of the hot topics on the ESPN College Basketball message boards (because I scroll them daily) is "The Worst Pick-up Line You've Ever Used." I have been simultaneously laughing out loud and gasping in horror. Some of the doozies:
"The word of the day is LEGS. Let's go back to my place and spread the word." "Are you a parking ticket? Because you've got 'fine' written all over you" "You might as well sleep with me because I'm going to tell everyone we did anyway!"
And, for some bizarre reason, my favorite: "Does this rag smell like chloroform?"
Heading to Vail/Beaver Creek tomorrow with some gal pals for a ski-tastic weekend. Throw in a hot tub and UNC playing in the Sweet 16, and that adds up to one happy Sarah. (And no, we won't be looking as totally 80s as the girls in the picture. But may I suggest again that you all go out and watch Hot Tub Time Machine. Which really should start paying me royalties for all the free advertising they're getting.)
So no more blog posts until Monday from the new job. Edge of your seats, peeps. Edge of your seats.
I'm starting a new job on Monday, and everyone here has been so gracious, wishing me well, etc. I've gotten cards, a cake, a happy hour...they even made me a counter offer and said I could always come back! Considering I was fired from my last job (Yes, fired. Not laid off. But thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt.), this is a much better way to go out. I much prefer "we'll miss you!" to "pack up your office and don't speak to anyone on the way out." Call me crazy.
On a sad note, Diane Esparza will NOT be making the move with me. She accepted their counter offer (I mean, all she does is nod - she basically agrees with everything), and will be manning my desk until they find a replacement. Happy trails, Diane.
Butler totally busted my bracket Saturday night. But I will cheer like hell for them - because the more games they win, the more often their super-hot coach will be on my TV. Thank you, Brad Stevens. Thank you for just being you. (And yes, I follow you on Facebook. But not in a stalkery way. Swear.)
Being a single gal in the big city means having to figure some crap out for yourself. And yes, I am prone to panic, but here are some things I do that, while probably not the most practical/smartest, seem to work just fine for me.
1. Kill wasps/other scary bugs by spraying them to death with Lysol/hairspray/whatever aerosol can happens to be closest. (sorry, environment.) This happened on Saturday and I was especially proud of myself.
2. Killed a lizard once by somehow chasing him into the tub and drowning him. (sorry, PETA.) If it wasn't clear, I don't like to step on things and hear that "crunch." I have also been known to vacuum up anything dead - don't like to touch that stuff either.
3. Hang paintings/posters/etc. with double-stick tape or push-pins. CLASSY.
4. Plastic dishes. After a ceramic plate shattered and sliced my leg open (requiring 9 stitches, thankyouverymuch), I go with safety over quality and stick with plastic. Should I ever get married, think how cheap my registry will be! WINNING.
5. Get the Jiffy Lube guys to put air in my tires whenever I get my oil changed. Don't know how to do it myself and honestly don't really want to learn.
These are the basics. I'm sure there are many more. Yet another chapter for my book.
So last night these guys came up to us and wanted to play 20 questions. Sure. Because that happens a lot at bars. They decided to try and guess what we all did for a living, and narrowed it down to 10 questions. If they guessed correctly, we had to buy them drinks. If they didn't, they owed US a round. Bring it.
They were asking my friends if they were teachers. Or nurses. Or strippers. And me? They asked if I was a policewoman. Or a firefighter. Um. How manly do I look. I mean, I have semi-man hands, but come on.
Someone buy me something pink and girly to wear next time, k?
(And of course they didn't get our professions right. Drinks for everyone!)
Have to share my latest eharm match. Actually, "flex match" - which means even eharm knows this is pushing it. Ahem.
Name: BUD. Age: 40-freaking-six. Profession: Truck driver. (I kid you not.) And under "passionate about," he wrote, "doing things on this earth that only a human can do. like nicholas cage in "city of angels"."
And did I mention he has a ZZ Top beard.
Think I'm going to throw this fish back and let some other ladies have a turn. Good grief.
Couldn't find an image of the infamous Hockaday plaid, but after wearing it for eight years it's burned into my brain anyway. And of course I think of the classic Spaceballs quote, "They've gone to PLAID!" Greatness.
I barely know how to Twitter. Do it for work (that's what she said), and that's about it. The whole hashmark thing makes no sense. But I found one promoting the Heels in the recent ACC tournament, so decided to re-hash the hashmark, if you will. The abbreviation was #ACCTRNY, but every time I look at it I think "ACC Tranny." Which makes me giggle. Out loud. My officemates must think I'm looney.
Ah, Cabbage Patch Kids. Have to delve into this one for a sec. As a child of the 80s, I was the proud owner of like 10 of these things. Which are super creepy when you really look at them. But MAN they were popular. I even had a set of twin preemies. (I know, you're jealous)
I had one of the very first ones - the super ugly soft-faced ones - and my mom took me to the official Cabbage Patch store at Forest and Central to pick her out. Anyone remember that place? They had like a NICU in one room, with incubators of dolls. One room was a preschool. One room was a tea party. Again, soooo creepy looking back on it.
And of course I remember what her name was: Beth Misty. Which I thought was the most beautiful name in the world. In 1984.
Had a blind date yesterday. Or at least I was supposed to. (And yes, you already know where this is going.) An hour before we were supposed to meet, he texted that a dog had messed up his fence and he had to fix it so wouldn't be able to get together. I mean, whatever, dude. But my BS radar went off a little bit...
1. this conveniently happened at 2pm and not 9am? 2. we couldn't have pushed back the date time to like 5? 3. can't you call someone for crap like that?
Okay, rant over. Again, just another chapter for my book. Which at this rate will be like 5000 pages.
Maybe because it's been so spring-like outside, or maybe because some kid almost ran me over with his bike yesterday, but I have bikes on the brain. Which brings me to the images in this post. You've got your "make me a bicycle, clown!" shout-out to Wedding Crashers, and of course Hey, That's My Bike from Reality Bites. Both excellent films that I need to re-watch here pretty soon.
No need to mention that my own bike is a lovely $100 number from Target that is baby pink. No woven basket with plastic flowers or a bell, but it might as well have both. I'm too embarrassed to ride it at White Rock Lake with the pros. This bad boy will be strictly for riding around the block. Although I'm sure the tires are flat because it's been sitting out on the porch for like a year. Along with my Rollerblades and a random hammock-chair purchased in Mexico.
Love when I'm smarter than I thought I was. This actually happens to me on a near-daily basis: I freak out about something and then realize I already took care of it a while ago. Was just scrolling through days and days of deleted emails, looking for an e-ticket confirmation for a trip, and happened to try my "Travel" folder in my email box, just for grins. Sure enough, it was in there, safe and sound. Man I'm smart.
I bought a brand-new sweater and wore it for the first (and only) time to Colorado for Christmas. Really wanted to wear it a few weeks ago and realized I hadn't seen it since I got back. Looked in the "sweater" closet and in the "sweater" drawer (don't ask), and nada. So then I got all pissy at my poor mother, blaming her for swiping it while I was at her house (she has done this before, I assure you). She said it was no longer in Colorado, told me to check the dry cleaners, my suitcase, blah blah. Then over the weekend I was grabbing something out of yet ANOTHER closet, and BAM. Sweater. Hanging quietly. Man I'm smart.
Yesterday, I took my car to the car wash. (You're welcome, little Jeep. Sorry it took like a month.) I drove up asking for my usual $5 exterior wash. That's right, I'm a big spender. But the car wash attendant complimented both my sunglasses AND my nail polish, and convinced me to add the wheels package. Man I'm a sucker for a little harmless flirting. Take a note, dudes.
Yesterday, the Rutgers Scarlet Knights played the St. John's Red Storm in the Big East tournament. Red Storm v Scarlet Knights. Sounds more like a sci-fi movie than a basketball game, if you ask me. Not that you did.
And PS Rutgers got screwed. Although St John's is my dark horse in the tourney this year. Again, not that you asked.
The Chase Tower building downtown. Had a work event at the Petroleum Club last night, and HELL-OOOOO hotties. They just kept getting on the elevator. It was like a clown car. But instead of clowns, hot guys in suits with jobs. That's my kind of circus.
You know the ones I'm talking about. The child molestor vans. Apologies to anyone who drives one. Actually, scratch that. Get a new vehicle, creepo. ANYway. My scariest moment ever involved a white van, so gather round for story time.
It was a few months ago, and I was coming home from a bar in Uptown around midnight. I was pulling up to a stop sign at like Lemmon/Turtle Creek, and I was behind a child molestor van. All of a sudden, the van put on its hazard lights and came to a stop. The car next to me also stopped, so I was completely blocked in. I immediately started to panic (shocking, I know), and when the back doors of the van flew open and three guys jumped out, I almost fainted. 100% certain I was about to be car-jacked/raped/murdered/taken on a scary joy ride, I made sure my doors were locked and started semi-hyperventilating.
Um, turns out the van had stalled and the dudes in back were getting out to help push. I think the car next to me was their friend, as well. So I unglued my knuckles from the steering wheel and went on home. But for a good 30 minutes I could still hear my heart beating in my ears.
Perhaps I have watched one too many Lifetime TV movies?? Still - I avoid the white vans whenever possible.
Date yesterday was just BEGGING to be blogged about. I'm sorry. Has to be done. This was yet another Match guy who I've been emailing with off and on for a while, but we finally met up for the first time over the weekend. At his request. He asked what time, I said "5ish." Now, I'm a big fan of "ish," but to me, "5ish" means 5. So I arrived at 5 and texted that I had snagged a table on the patio. He wrote back "Nice." And then the minutes went by. 5:15. 5:25. By 5:30 I'm feeling super pathetic, sitting on the patio by myself, and just knowing that everyone around me is snickering, "ooh, that girl TOTALLY got stood up." (Of course, they probably didn't even NOTICE me, but that's how it felt.)
So at 5:30 I texted again, asking if he was in fact coming. A few minutes later he wrote back that he'd be there in 10. Hmmm. By 6 I was freezing and feeling like a complete loser - online dating is awesome! - and he finally showed up. Said he had a work emergency right around the time I texted that I was on the patio. He felt bad, but I mean he could have easily told me the truth at the beginning and we could have rescheduled. We had time for one drink and then he checked his phone and the work emergency was back.
So that was that. Good times, people. And believe me, at some point I looked around for hidden cameras. You can't make this stuff up. Sigh.
Started out my Blackberry ownership with the glitteratti, bedazzled case. As a matter of fact, I owned three different rhinestoned cases. Which was all fun and games until I was standing in a checkout line next to a 13-year-old who had the same one. Time for a more mature upgrade.
To a case with a pink and white giraffe print. Hmmm. Not exactly mature- maybe fitting for the 16 and up crowd? So then it was on to solid pink. Girly yet not as in-your-face as the bedazzlers.
And then it was time to buy a new Blackberry altogether. After seeing it on Kourtney and Kim Take New York, I became semi-obsessed with the white one. (Whiteberry?) And I felt its zen-ness needed an accompanying case. Which is also all white. Say it with me: ommmmmm. I'm sure this bad boy will be crazy dirty in about a week, but for that shining week, I will feel calm and serene while answering crazed work emails at 10pm. And isn't that what it's all about?
Had a first date last night and he suggested we sit at the bar and eat. And what did I do? Spilled my ENTIRE glass of wine all over him. Sigh. I mean, at least it was white wine, but still. I blamed him for having us sit side-by-side. If we had been across from each other at a table like normal people, I would have just spilled on myself like a normal night. Oh. The. Humanity.
Yesterday in the car I heard that Blind Melon song "No Rain." Which of course brought to mind the Bee Girl. Please someone tell me whatever happened to her. Loves it.
Another whatever happened to that has apparently been solved...Sinbad. Who played at the House of Blues last night. Is that super random to anyone else? I mean has he been relevant since like 1987? But I'm always one to jump on the 80s bandwagon, so bring it. (Although I would NOT pay to see him. Sorry Sinbad. Even I have my limits.)
Finally, Paul Pfeiffer from the Wonder Years. I love love loved the rumor that he was Marilyn Manson, but I thought that was eventually refuted. Or refudiated, for the Palin fans among you. A friend named her baby girl Winnie this week (and actually another one named hers Wynne - what is happening here), so it got me thinking Wonder Years. Viva Fred Savage.
It's probably because I have degrees in journalism, but spelling is very important to me. And an easy way to weed out potential online suitors. (I know it's snobby, but come on. Spellcheck could NOT be easier.)
Just got an email from a guy that said, "We are a 100% match! I have never been completely compatable with someone!"
If only he had spelled "compatible" correctly, we just might BE a match. Sigh.
They kicked a player off the basketball team for having sex with his girlfriend. (Apparently it goes against the honor code. Not the bro code, though.) That seems particularly harsh for a college kid. Although not being Mormon myself, maybe I just don't understand. But aren't Mormons infamous for having a bunch of kids? So maybe this guy was just getting started early...
Apparently they also must abstain from other traditional college activities like drinking alcohol, drinking coffee (wtf) and smoking in an attempt to "live a chaste and virtuous life." Um, PASS.
But looking at the big picture, that should move UNC up in the rankings, so thank you, guy, for succumbing to your manly needs. (Sidebar: what happens to the girlfriend? Expelled? Sheesh.)
I'm not drinking the water - no less than three friends are having babies this week, and I've got like 5 other friends due in the coming months. Needless to say, I'm on a baby gift shopping spree. Never one to buy plastic bottles or burp cloths off a registry, I enjoy finding unique and funny gifts that I probably want more than they do. (Shocking, I know.) Like the above onesie. Get excited, ladies.
Okay I can come up with a few. Crazy. Looney tunes. Nutso. I mean, People Magazine's website posted like 8 stories about him yesterday. They had to keep updating every time he did another interview. Oh the humanity.
Sidebar: why, when I Google images of Charlie Sheen, is the next entry "Charlie Sheen teeth?" Are his teeth like famous teeth? Weird. Ooh - that's another word I can use for him.
Have a first date tonight (potentially - I feel like every time I announce these things the guy ends up cancelling, but whatev) with a Turkish gentleman who allegedly has a Turkish accent. Not sure what that sounds like, but I will report back. This dating thing is becoming like a one-woman United Nations. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses - I will date them all, apparently. Humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic in my head right now. Tres romantic. :)