A dress mess

In March I ordered my bridesmaid's dress for my brother's wedding, which is in August. It's supposed to get here today. (If not, I'm moving tomorrow so might never receive it.) And it's been a pretty shaky progression since the beginning.

First off, we could pick our own dresses (thank you, Chelsea) - they just had to be in the "nude" color family. So I found one I liked, got the bride's approval, and ordered it. Two weeks later the company called to say the dress I ordered didn't COME in that color. (Why it was an option on the website, I have no idea.) So they said, "We'll just pick something for you that looks similar." Mmm-kay.

And it was supposed to be here by June 9. So not only do I currently not have a dress for my brother's wedding, but if I DO get it I will have NO idea what it looks like! Exciting, no?

Seriously.

I always get a few late-night emails from my boss/colleagues in Europe and Asia, but last night was ridiculous - 9 emails after 10pm. WTF. I mean, I'm not a doctor, people. I'm not on call 24 hours a day. (Well, apparently I am, but not for something uber-important like brain surgery.) The main issue is that my phone vibrates when I get an email, so I kept noticing new emails coming in all night and then got all stressed out about what was waiting for me at the office and got about 3 hours of sleep. Tack on the 3 hours I got Sunday night and Monday night, and you can just imagine the walking (er, stumbling) disaster that is Sarah right about now. Almost thought about pulling a Costanza and napping under my desk. Still might...

Finally! An "F you" on the Bachelorette!

She's still a complete mess, but at least Ashley was able to give Bentley the ol' "f@#* you" after he decided to vacation on ABC's dime and fly to Hong Kong for no apparent reason. Seriously - what WAS that. He and his "dot, dot, dot" and her and her "period" - thanks for the punctuation lesson, kids. Here's another one - this season sucks, EXCLAMATION POINT!

But I digress.

Ben "Afff" is growing on me, as is JP. And I was sad to see Blake the dentist go - especially since I thought Ames and his elevator molesting (could that have BEEN a slower elevator?!) was going to get the axe. And poor Mickey couldn't handle the Bentley sitch and bailed. On a slow boat from China. (Side bar: how the producers keep coming up with clever ways to send these guys packing amazes me, although my favorite is still when Ali left Kasey on the iceberg.)

Again with the digressing.

And again with the pitting the men against each other for sport - this time, via dragon boat racing. What is Ashley's problem? These things are just cruel and unusual punishment, and did the winners even WIN anything? How about a leisurely picnic or something. Give these dudes a break.

Besides competition, the other thing this season keeps bringing in is Chris Harrison, therapist. Poor guy just has to sit there, week after week, as Ashley bawls her little eyes out and whines about Bentley. Usually only seen to drop off the first date card (PS - what happened to the festive date BOXES? Economy?), he's now all over the place. Finally earning his keep.

Final observation: what kind of waterproof mascara does this chick wear? It certainly withstands all the crying. Impressive stuff.

I just want to quit the gym.

Has anyone seen that Friends episode where Chandler and Ross are trying to quit the gym and they can't? Greatness. And I just experienced that first-hand trying to quit DirecTV. Holy drawn-out conversation, Batman. I was waiting for her to offer me her car just to stay with them for a few more months. But no. Stay strong. You don't need $27 off your monthly bill for a year. And no, you don't have a vacation home where you might need DirecTV services. Just say no.

Omigawd Becky

The concert was so awesome. Backstreet Kids on the Block, The New Boys, whatever you want to call them (they tried to get the crowd to chant "N-K-O-T-B-S-B" over and over, but I'm not sure that will catch on), were seriously amazeballs.

I bought myself one of those giant buttons that you used to wear on jean jackets - and might have to bring that look back - but there were so many amazing ensembles running around. Lots of girls were decked out in 80s clothes - even the ones who obviously were born in the 90s - I even saw some girls wearing hats like the one above. Legit 1980s gear. Very impressive.

I wanted a t-shirt (ooh - or "I Heart BSB" underwear!), but they were a whopping $40. A girl we were with DID buy one - all it said was "Jordan, Joey, Donnie, Jonathan, Danny." Genius. But $40.

Joey McIntyre (who, along with Jordan Knight has really aged well) made the astute observation that there was a distinct generational gap in the audience - either you felt like it was 1989 again (woooooo!), or you felt like it was 1999 again (and the crowd goes wild!).

The concert seemed to go on forever - who knew Backstreet Boys had so many hits?! - and I will now have to download all the songs I forgot about (Cover Girl, anyone? Step by Step!) for an all-new, all-star mega mix. Which is really good news for all my friends who get mixed CDs from me every Christmas. You're welcome, ladies.

And I can confirm: Backstreet's back. (Alright!)

Packing = dust bunnies and dusty memories

About 75% packed (damn you, dishes, for taking like 3 hours last Sunday), and it's so interesting to see what I have managed to amass. I've been in my current apartment for 6 (!) years, and that has been the easiest decision-making factor: if I haven't opened this cabinet/CAN'T open it in 6 years, TOSS.

Having central air will allow me to TOSS the five fans I have stashed around in an attempt to not die from heat stroke in the summer.

Having a dishwasher will allow me to TOSS the drying rack where a plate once fell and sliced open my leg, resulting in 9 stitches. (Again, why I now use plastic dishes.)

And more closet space will allow me to not only KEEP my ridiculous amount of clothes/shoes/purses, but hopefully to buy more! (Although my new hefty rent will put the kibosh on that fairly quickly.)

Here's to my final week on Hawthorne. It was fun while it lasted. But it lasted about two years too long. :)

Total Recall

I really don't understand why people send the email recall. 99% of the time, people already read the original email anyway. And by trying to recall it, it draws more attention to whatever the hell the email said. Example: I emailed a colleague in London yesterday, asking for Flip-cam videos for our quarterly update meeting. She wrote me back early this morning (at least, early Dallas time) saying she was too busy for this. Which I thought was a little snooty, but hey - it's England. They're supposed to be snooty.

And then an hour later, she recalled the email. She probably thought it was 4am in Dallas, and I wouldn't have opened the first one. I guess she doesn't know I get up at 3 to work out. For once my insane schedule comes in handy! So I got into the office and replied (very sweetly, I might add) back to her, using the ORIGINAL email so she would know I totally saw it. This all should make for some fun times when I go to the London office next month.

Um, ow

A true hypochondriac since birth, I have decided that I've either been having a heart attack since Sunday, or perhaps just pulled a pectoral muscle. Either way, ow. (And how I would have pulled a freaking pec, I have no idea, but that's news to no one.) And let me just say that WebMD does nothing to put my mind to rest. Giving people the power to self-diagnose is NOT wise. Now, the power to self-prescribe, on the other hand...

Backstreet's back, ALRIGHT

Going to NKOTBSB on Sunday, thanks to a very well-connected friend. For those living under a rock, that's New Kids on the Block-Backstreet Boys. Or "I Want it That Way" meets "Please Don't Go Girl." And I seriously can't wait. We also have tickets to give away at work (none of the clients wanted them - canNOT understand why), so we're having a boy band costume contest on Friday. I'm assuming 99% of those dressing up will be girls, but it should still be awesome.

I am a true boy band fan, but looking at the photo above, I'm honestly not sure I could name them all. Here we go: Joey. AJ. Jordan. Howie D. Jonathan? Donny? Brian. The unfortunate looking one...Danny. And Nick. (Glaringly absent: Kevin. Who was never to be heard from again.) What do I win??

Bachelorette. Why bother.

Wow this season sucks. Ashley continues to come off looking so freaking pathetic - I was almost hoping Chris Harrison would slap some sense into her when she was still waxing poetic about Bentley, a.k.a. He Who Shall Apparently Be Named in Every Episode. Loved when she asked Chris if her feelings were normal and he was like, "No." Chris Harrison FTW.

The whole martial arts fight group date was awful as well. There have been so many bad idea jeans segments this year - the roast, and now punching each other until someone gets a concussion. Poor Ames - he's a lover, not a fighter. Or at least a studier, not a fighter.

William sucked more and more after his epic fail at the roast - sad that he was my favorite at the beginning. Might give you an idea about the kind of guys I pick and why I am ultimately single.
I DID like how overly dramatic he was when he got the boot, though. Almost a little suicidal. Should make for a fun Men Tell All. And the burning of the rose that wasn't given away? Like the burning of the mask - a little too much, ABC. You're reaching a bit.
And I still can't really tell Constantine and Ben "Afff" apart, but who cares.

Plus the whole Thailand location just gives me a Hangover 2 vibe and I keep hoping a smoking and Skyping monkey will show up to make this show watchable. Sadly, no monkeys in sight. Aside from Ames.

Maybe I should just say it pisses me off...

I was going to go on a tangent about how unfair it is that all the Real Housewives of Wherever get things handed to them, be it music "careers," book deals, product endorsements, etc. - and how it really chaps my hide.

Then got to thinking about how awesome the phrase "chaps my hide" is, and tried to come up with others that mean the same thing...

"gets my goat." (Why is this a bad thing?)

"sticks in my craw." (Again, some of these meanings are lost on me.)

"gets my panties in a bunch." (Well, that DOES suck.)

Sorry, Neil Armstrong

There's a contest on the radio that 7-11 is running in conjunction with Foursquare called "Check Into Space" or something. It ties in with the movie Super 8, and, according to the announcer, you can win a "trip to space." Seriously?? What about those poor astronauts who devote months and years of training into going into space? And some random schmuck can just win a ticket? It's not like a trip to Hawaii, people. (Which I would sort of prefer.) We're talking space here. OUTER space. Just seems like kind of a slap in the face to NASA. But I guess if Lance Bass can be an astronaut, anyone can...

Songs that make you go hmmm

I think it's so wild how hearing a certain song can transport you back to a particular time/place/outfit (maybe that last one is just me). The other day I heard "Breakfast at Tiffany's" by Deep Blue Something and was immediately back in 1995 as a high school senior. It got me thinking about other songs and their time-travel abilities...walk with me, won't you?

*"Borderline" by Madonna: I'm 8 and at a friend's Madonna-themed birthday party. Complete with gummy bracelets.

*"You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morrissette: freshman year of college. Most likely drunk.

*"Look Away" by Chicago: couple skate at Hot Wheels, circa 1986

*"Bizarre Love Triangle" by New Order: 8th grade dances

*"Vogue" by Madonna: Bar Mitvahs at Temple Emmanuel

*"Romeo and Juliet: by the Indigo Girls: all high school, all the time

*"Walk Like an Egyptian" by the Bangles: 4th grade jazz dance. And yes, I remember some of the moves.

And now I need to go make a mixed tape.

London, baby!

So I get to go to London for a week at the end of July for work. I've been there a few times before for Wimbledon, but I did the math last night and it was (eeks) 20 years ago. (Is that possible?? Sigh.) So I'm sure much has changed, and I can actually do things that a 13-year-old couldn't do (ahem) - super psyched!

I'm going to stay over an extra weekend - because lord knows the next time I'll be in Europe - so any suggestions on places to go that I could get to by train from London would be much appreciated. Off the top of my head I'm thinking Scotland or Wales. Why not. Cheerio.

It's hot. (How hot is it??)

"It's DAMN hot. Hottest thing is my shorts. I could cook things in it. A little crotch-pot cookin'." (my favorite line from Good Morning Vietnam)

But seriously folks. It's hot. Like 101. And it's only June. Which means in August people will probably spontaneously combust when they walk outside. Awesome. And the A/C was broken at the gym earlier this week. MORE awesome. Last summer I managed to find more than one bar with broken air conditioning. Such a beating. Although maybe I could say I looked "dewy." Nah - just "sweaty." Super attractive.

The make-up I ordered finally arrived yesterday, but it was left out in the sun all day and by the time I opened it this morning it was pretty disgusting. Who can I sue for this - mother nature? Ah, Texas summers. One would think I would have learned my lesson by now. One would be wrong.

Bentley. Gone but not forgotten, apparently.

Last night's Bachelorette bored me. If not for the constant use of Bentley's name, I might have just turned it off. Is this guy getting royalties or something? As if we don't know the producers are telling her to say it. At least I HOPE they are - otherwise this chick is tragic.

A few more things of note (and again, there weren't many):

The entire cast goes to Phuket? How much is THIS costing ABC?? Sheesh. And side bar, perhaps they should have checked when rainy season was. The weather sucks! Shame on you, intern.

I really have no comments about the Constantine date, although I kind of appreciated that they just had to "rough it" and had a normal date like the rest of us. Well, as normal as it can be in phreaking Phuket (see what I did there?)...

The group date at the orphanage was also fairly lame, although Ben F (or, as Ashley says it, "Af") is growing on me, Josh Groban-isms and all.

And the date with Ames was also pretty lame. Her pants looked like pajama pants and it concerned me that they got into that canoe with no life vests. But maybe I've just seen too many "Open Water" movies.

Ryan P and all his sunny personality and solar energy reminds me of Rob Lowe's character on Parks and Recreation. Although my intern at work told me *I* remind her of him, too. Not sure if that's a good thing or not.

Kind of sad that only one guy got the boot. Gonna be a long flight home by yourself, West.

Another mind-numbing two hours. Be back next week for more!

Barefoot and NOT pregnant

Went to a baby shower on Sunday, and while getting out of my car at the house, one of my flip-flop straps totally snapped. I tried to walk on it anyway, but that wasn't happening. So I got back in my car, debating what to do. (Of course another guest saw me do this and asked if the party was already over. So I had to show her the damaged flop.)

I tried to MacGyver it back together in the car, even going so far as to use chewed-up gum to stick the straps back on. Um, that didn't work. And was kind of gross. So I had to just suck it up and go to the party barefoot. So tragic. Luckily I was wearing a long dress that pretty much covered them up. But I'm sure people were like, "what's up with the chick not wearing shoes." Awesome. At least I had just gotten a pedicure.

(and congrats Amy!)

Yard sale: a post-mortem

Well, we made it. It wasn't pretty, and I ended up in the ER, but we made it. Each of the three co-hostesses made well over $200, and although we had quite a bit of crap - er, stuff - left over, I'd say it was a success. Some highlights:

People arrived by 7am. (It was supposed to start at 8.) I had gotten one box outside by that point. Out of about 100. Luckily J was there to make a deal while I sweated profusely and ran back and forth bringing more stuff outside. But it worked - as soon as I wheeled out the bike, it sold. Nuts.

Also sold the stuff that I thought would NEVER sell: some lady bought the entire bag of slightly-used make-up. A man bought both my bag o' CDs AND my bag o' mixed CDs. Um, enjoy, sir.
But things like my Rollerblades and Guitar Hero guitar, and B's futon and TV did not sell. Interesting. It's also kind of a bummer when yard sale "folk" deem your stuff as too ugly/dirty/out of style to even pay $1 for. Whatever.

My neighbor was amazing and let us use his table with an umbrella for shade (as long as we didn't sell it), brought us cut-up watermelon, and would come outside every hour and buy something. Including J's bike helmet which was obviously three sizes too small. Loves it.

A few kind friends showed up to provide puppy love, water, and overall moral support - xoxo.

And then there were my injuries. Bruising is obviously a daily problem for me, one I have come to embrace. But these bruises are like no other. I had to bring the daybed I was selling downstairs by myself the night before. Which involved taking it apart and then putting it back together. And then had to do the same thing in the morning to get it out the door. And that's where the problems occurred. I somehow crushed one hand in the iron frame of the bed, and cut the other one. So at 7:45 am, I was selling stuff and exchanging money with people with a bloody hand (and apparently a bloody skirt - classy). And the crushed hand just didn't get better. As I said, I know my bruises, and I knew this wasn't good. It was really swollen and painful and I couldn't make a fist. So after the sale finally ended I drove to urgent care for an x-ray. Sadly, not broken. (I say "sadly" b/c I would have liked to have had some proof of how much this thing hurt - c'mon doc. How about just an Ace bandage?) Plus I don't think the doctor believed me. She saw the gigantic bruise on my thigh and the cut on my other hand and totally thought I was being abused. She asked, "Are you SURE a bed fell on your hand?" like over and over. Sigh.

But again, all in a (long-ass) day's work. And please god don't make me have another yard sale for a while. Maybe forever.

Mavs. Sweet sweet Mavs.

We used to have season tickets to the Mavericks games when I was growing up. And this was back in the days of Reunion Arena, to really date myself. Rolando Blackman. Mark Aguirre. Sam Perkins. Brad Davis. Uwe Blab. Poor little Kurt Nimphius, who I always felt sorry for. Detlef Schrempf, who I love seeing occasionally on Parks and Recreation. (And yes, I had to Google some of these names.) So these were the dudes I grew up cheering for. It's no Dirk Nowitzki, but it was such greatness.

My very first "date" was to a Mavericks game. I brought my little 3rd grade boyfriend (technically, we "dated" from 2nd-4th grade - the longest relationship I have ever had - and I forced him into it because he was really shy. Sorry about that, John.) and my parents rented a white stretch limo to take us to the game. (Remember, kids - this was 1985 and white limos were HOT.) I remember us opening and closing the moon roof and him asking me if that was our car. Ha.

So with over 20 years of memories, goooo Mavs. Let's DO this.

Sanford & Son. And Daughter.

How can one person acquire so much crap. Thank god the yard sale is Saturday - my living room is so Sanford & Son, I can barely move. Hel-loooo, fire hazard. All I can say is I better make a buttload of money. Doesn't even have to be a Kardashian buttload. Just an average buttload would be fine.

If I were to do an inventory, I think it would be really horrifying. Consider this:
15 random purses
5 pairs of sunglasses
100+ CDs
200+ CD mixes. You're welcome, America.
30 pieces of random UNC paraphernalia (hats, Tri-Delt t-shirts, etc.). Knowing my luck, a giant Duke convention will be in town and none of that will sell. Who are we kidding - as if Dookies hit garage sales.
25 random sheets and pillowcases
20 random towels
VHS tape that makes your TV into a fireplace
VHS tape that makes your TV into an aquarium (um, these are awesome and I'm very sad to part with them)
Blender
Pink Schwinn (hey, that's my bike)
Moccasin boots (why god why)
"Gently used" make-up (sadly, someone WILL buy this)

And the list could go on. And on. And on. I can't get the Sanford & Son theme song out of my head. You're welcome again, America.

I don't get it

How can girls work out at the gym or go running with their hair down?? I am a sweaty mess even with my hair in a ponytail - and in this heat, I can't even deal with it on my neck so it becomes a bun! But long, flowing locks on the treadmill? PASS.

(Plus, it's not like I work out at Equinox where there are a bunch of young hot guys. It's the damn YMCA, ladies. No need to look all fancypants.)

How many blondes does it take

...to spell "tchotchke?" Apparently more than one. I had to look it up. Good thing I wasn't in a spelling bee. I still remember the word that knocked me out of the 6th grade bee: "microcosm." (I spelled it M-I-C-R-O-I-S-M. Dumbass.)

However, I did win the office bee (yes, you read that right) two years running at the Art Institute. Which came with bragging rights and an obscenely large trophy. Obviously tchotchke was not one of my words. Ironically I can spell Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi in my sleep. But that's neither here nor there.

Man I'm a sucker

All I needed to read was that Eva Mendes uses this Perricone MD foundation and PRESTO! Bought it. Sad but true. But I'm sorry - if my skin could look anything like hers, totally worth it.

Maybe he should have left the mask ON (and other Bachelorette commentary)

Oh lord this episode was a doozy. Ashley must be absolutely mortified watching it now and learning what was said behind her back. And yes, I'm referring to Bentley. What a total douchebag. (Side bar: why was "douchebag" bleeped out? I swear I've heard it all over prime time television lately...) I was so afraid they were going to sleep together when he was trying to simultaneously turn her on and dump her - classy, dude.

WHY are there so many dances on this show. I had to fast-forward through the entire flash mob sequence - so embarrassing for all involved. Including the Far East Movement. Oof.

Poor masked Jeff. Loved everyone's reaction when he finally took the mask off - they might as well have just cued the Debbie Downer music. Even the hawk and the squirrel were not impressed. And then the ceremonial burning of the mask when he didn't get picked - what a cheese-tastic moment. Thanks, ABC. But a question: hadn't she already seen him un-masked in the photo room before the last two rose ceremonies??? WTF.

The roast was such a bad call. I mean, that's just ASKING for trouble and hurt feelings. And sure enough, William took one for the team. I like him less and less with each passing week. Bad idea jeans to make the Emily comparison, man. And all the "Ashley is so flat" jokes? What are we, 12?

Follow this with the Bentley Brush-off, and it was a rough week for Ash. But all that hysterical crying? Pull yourself together, woman. It's just going to get worse...

Finally, I'm giving my first impression rose to Chris freaking Harrison. Loved his pep talk and guy advice. He is precious. And has the easiest job in America.

Talk about a money shot

Pick a winner, Biebs! Haaaaa

Afraid to go back in the water

I saw "Open Water" in the theater years ago and it was mortifying. Then last night I stupidly watched "Open Water 2: Adrift." Which thank god did not involve sharks this time, but was pretty much your basic nightmare scenario - they all jump into the ocean off a yacht, but fail to let the ladder down and can't get back in. Are you freaking kidding me. Considering I get seasick on lakes, this would pretty much be an epic fail scenario for me.

Being PC takes half the fun out of everything

Last night I saw two things I wanted to make fun of, but in both instances the political correctness police tripped me up and I kept it to myself. But that's why I have a blog. To get this stuff out.

1. Dude wearing sunglasses while sitting courtside at the Mavs game. (PC Police: What if he's blind??) If he's not blind and he's not Jack Nicholson, who can somehow pull that look off at Lakers games, then he's just a douche and needs to remove the eyewear. You're inside, man.

2. Quinn on Real Housewives of OC. (She actually was a cast member for a season - anyone? Bueller?) What in the WORLD was she wearing on her head. The most bizarre-looking wig I have ever seen. And very obviously a wig. (PC Police: What if she has cancer??) Still - there are very realistic-looking wigs out there. Someone help a sister out.

Okay, rants over. On to my next non-PC victim...

Mmmm, donuts

In honor of National Donut Day (?!), I will be driving in small circles on someone's lawn. You're welcome.

I'm totally wearing camo to this.

Um, this should be interesting. Or hospitalizing. Signed up for 6 Crossfit:Underworld classes through Groupon. (Why they have to add the "Underworld" part is beyond me - I'm sure it will be scary enough as it is.) Apparently it's some sort of Navy SEALS training/fitness/nightmare. And tonight is our first class. If there's no post on Monday, I'm probably still hanging from the pull-up bar, trying to complete one pathetic pull-up. Sigh.

ReDIRKulous

Yay for super tall Germans. Go Mavs.

I have my first celebrity Twitter follower!

Why, I have no idea, but Alex McCord from Real Housewives of New York is following me on Twitter. Which really puts the pressure on to come up with something witty. Damn you, celebrities.

Hi, I'm Sarah...

...and my Facebook posts make me seem like an alcoholic. (Everyone: "Hi, Sarah.")

Seriously - the last like 3 posts have contained photos of various alcoholic beverages. That can't be good. Would it help if I said they were just there for artistic effect? Which isn't true, but would that help?

Whatever. It's mimosa time.

Here's hoping they serve peanut butter and banana sandwiches

Going to a screening of Blue Hawaii tonight, complete with dinner by Top Chef's Tre Wilcox. Doubt he'll serve a hunka hunka burnin' cheese, but wouldn't that be awesome?

Murphy's Law

Whenever I make a dermatologist appointment, my skin is god-awful. And by the time I actually HAVE the appointment, it's all clear. Like today. I know he thinks I'm lying. Probably thinks I just want the drugs. Which I do. But I need them, doc. Swear.