I should be in movies. Okay, maybe just commercials.

Specifically, the Match commercials. But not because I have found my soul mate - no no. Because I would tell the truth. Warts and all. And there are lots of warts, people.

Wonder which scenario they would want me to start with: the fact that both dates I had this week cancelled at the last minute? Or that the guy I had gone on 5 (sober and make-out free, yet still fun) dates with fell off the face of the earth? Or there's always the creepy older dude who emailed me about coming over to his place while he cooked me spaghetti and I could lie in his tanning bed...

Now THAT'S an infomercial I would stay up to watch. :)

Wow. Rhyming names.

Mike Myers just had a son and named him "Spike." So it's Mike and Spike. They should've gone with "Ike" - at least then they could enjoy the candy. (Mike and Ike's. Keep up, people.)

No wonder I'm single

I get a weird joy out of getting to work so early that the toilets in the ladies room haven't been used (which I know because the seats are still up from the cleaning crew). It's like a fresh start to the day. Um, literally.

Yep. Weird.

It's Tyra's world, we're just living in it

As an avid America's Next Top Model fan (or ANTM, for those in the know), I have to wonder what gives Miss Tyra the right to just make up words. A few seasons ago it was "smize" (smile with your eyes). And last night? "Tooch." As in "booty tooch." Which apparently means sticking out your butt in pics. Mine tooches all by itself, Tyra. Take THAT to the bank.

It had to happen sometime

In my "illustrious" 6-year career (on and off, people. on and off) on Match, I have never received the "thanks, but no thanks" email they recommend you send to someone you're not interested in. No, I usually get radio silence, which happens to be my preferred method of avoidance.

But that all changed last night, when I got my first "thanks, but no thanks" response from a guy. Match tries to make it less humiliating by saying "they don't know what they're missing!" which is debatable, but the fact remains that I much prefer never hearing a word back. Take a note, future dumpers. That way I can just pretend they never got my email. Ignorance is bliss. Especially on the dating scene.

:)

Not a good sign when...

...you think you only have one more month left on Match and find out you actually have TWO. Apparently this has been the longest month in the history of months. Oof.

Officially The. Most. Random. Post. Ever.

For some reason, I started humming Yankee Doodle yesterday. (See? RANDOM.) But I sadly realized I couldn't remember the words. Thanks to Google, I read them. And I'm sorry - the lyrics are weird.

Exhibit A: "Mind the music and the step and with the girls be handy." HANDY? As in "let me come over and caulk your tile" handy? Or as in handsy?

Exhibit B: "There we saw the men and boys as thick as hasty pudding." Really not sure what

was going on down at Captain Gooding's camp, but it sounds a little shady. Plus who knows WHAT'S in hasty pudding.

Exhibit C: "There was Captain Washington, upon a slapping stallion..." Just providing some interesting visuals. That's all I'm saying.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to make macaroni. You know, by sticking a feather in my cap or something.

Signs of fall: leaves changing color, boots (!), new season of TV

And since those first two don't hit Dallas until late October, I can focus all my energies on new TV shows. What I'm loving so far: Ringer (Sarah Michelle Gellar! And I didn't even watch Buffy!), Revenge (although already fairly confused), and Up All Night (I could watch Will Arnett peel carrots and would laugh). Halfway through Charlie's Angels, which is okay, but I prefer the movie. Sadly haven't gotten around to Pan Am yet, but seeing those tiny uniforms, I'm sure it will just make me feel fat.


Did NOT like Whitney, Free Agents or The Playboy Club. Which also made me feel fat.


Hopefully this will save you some space on your DVR. :)

Because it's Friday...

I will leave you ladies (or hell, dudes too - he's THAT good-looking) with this image. Although imagine how awkward the photographer's instructions must have been: "Yes! Ryan! Let's get one of you eating your shirt! HOT!"

I mean really.

Kind of bugs when people at work ask you to do something and you do it. And then they get mad because you moved too quickly??? So apparently they were just kidding about the request? I am one of those "get 'er done" type people - it's one less email in the inbox to deal with. So make a note, peeps: don't ask me to do something today if you really don't want it done until next week. Or for god's sakes specify that in the first place. Sheeeeesh.

Getting down from my soapbox now. Sorry.

I swear I thought of it first.

Since last year, there have been a lot of photos of models rocking knee socks that poke out the top of their tall boots. (Pardon the Lindsay Lohan picture, but she IS wearing them...)

Love the look, but I can proudly say I no longer own knee socks. (And actually just got a flashback of visiting Hockaday in 4th grade and my mom made me wear a sweater vest, wool shorts and knee socks. It's a MIRACLE they let me in. But I digress...)

So I thought of an idea - cut off the tops of regular dress socks and pull them up above the boot so it just LOOKS like you have on tall socks. Kind of like a dickey for your shins. And sure enough, I was at DSW yesterday and they already sell them. "Boot cuffs." In a bajillion cute fabrics and colors.

Curses. Foiled again.

It's a couch! It's a pillowcase! It's a...

...perfect example of why drunk shopping is a bad idea.

Yesterday I wore a dress that I bought while tipsy a few weeks ago - didn't try it on, it was a whopping $24, so I took it. And it was actually cute. But the whole drunk shopping idea can be dangerous - as seen above.

This optical illusion/eye-sore is part of a SUIT (yes, a suit) that I bought like 10 years ago when I was drunk. In Las Vegas. At some random store in the Mandalay Bay casino. What on earth. All I can say is that I have never worn the jacket and skirt together - just feel it would be a disservice to mankind. And of course to fashion.

So take it from me: don't drink and shop. You could wind up with a pinstriped floral doozy like I did. And that's just something you can't get over.

How many blondes does it take...

...to take a freaking picture. More than just me, apparently.

Recently my phone hasn't been letting me upload photos onto Facebook. (A real tragedy, I assure you.) So on Saturday at the SMU tailgate (er, boulevard) I decided to rely on a tried-and-true manuever that has worked for me since the days of the Atari computer - take the battery out and blow on it, then restart the damn thing. So I did, and voila! The photo quickly uploaded.

Feeling pretty confident in my technical skills, I was then asked to take another photo for a friend. Imagine my surprise to find that the lens was completely black. I could literally see nothing. I fiddled with it for about an hour and then came to the unfortunate conclusion that I was a total moron. When I put the phone back together, I put the new-ish cover back on - upside down - and it was completely covering the camera lens.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! I'll be here all week!

Yay me.

This marks my 800th blog post. Who knew I had so much crap to say?! (And also, who knew there would be a random yet totally appropriate image out there just for this occasion?!)

I should probably wait and celebrate my awesomeness at the 1,000th post, but hell - that will be like a year from now. And I'm feeling awesome TODAY, dammit.

Although it's really not all that impressive - this is truly the Seinfeld of blogs. A blog about nothing. (And yes, watching twice-daily Seinfeld reruns this month has brought it back into the forefront.) But, like Seinfeld, I hope to someday leave my mark on society. And when I hear someone, somewhere say "amazeballs," I know I've done something. Not something good, mind you - just...something.

So here's to 800 more! (Okay, who are we kidding. This will have to stop eventually.)

Why can't I quit you. (Steve Perry)

For some reason I have been obsessing over "Oh Sherrie" lately. Can't get enough. Maybe it's Steve's awesome mullet in the video...yep, that's probably it.

FNL FTW

Finally! Friday Night Lights gets some Emmy love!! Of course, the show is now over, and Connie Britton should have won for best lead actress, but hey. At least they won something. Could have also used a token Tim Riggins shirtless shot, but now I'm just nitpicking.

Clear eyes, full hearts! And of course, Texas forever.

Emmy sidebar: Does Rob Lowe age AT ALL. What in the world.

IKEA. A four-letter word?

Going to IKEA today for the very first time. And I have to admit, I'm a little nervous. It opened a few years ago, but I heard such horror stories about the crowds and the parking that I stayed the hell away. But now I need a rug. Plus I'm a bit intrigued by the Swedish giant. (And the Swedish chef, but that's another story.)

So going to brave it over my lunch break. I feel like giving myself a time limit should help me spend less and attempt to find my way back to my car faster. I'm telling my co-workers that if I'm not back by 3, I've gotten lost and they need to come find me.

Wish me luck.

The smell of success. Or cupcakes.

I am something of a health nut. Don't eat fried food, chocolate, fast food...basically I'm a thrill a minute. But I am human, and like the taste of all that stuff. And particularly the SMELL of all that stuff. Which is why my bathroom is stocked with lotions and potions that reek of sugar. Brown sugar and fig? Check. Cinnamon pumpkin? Check check. Sugar cookie? Of course. I also have the matching candles. So you walk into my place, have an overwhelming aroma of vanilla slap you in the face, and assume there are cookies baking, a la June Cleaver. And then I pass around carrot sticks. Man I'm going to be a fun mom.

Victory, however short-lived

I love those free Showtime/HBO weekends. Although I never realize it until late Sunday afternoon, when I have wasted two perfectly good days of free movies.

Had a similar experience yesterday - all of a sudden, I could access Match.com at work. (It is usually banned, forcing me to actually do work.) I had a feeling it was a fleeting achievement, and I was right - I tried to get on later and got the all-too-familiar "DENIED" screen.

Ah, well - fun while it lasted.

On a Mission. For Missoni. (See what I did there?)

Love love love when Target collaborates with a fancypants designer and offers stuff that I could usually never afford at much more affordable prices. Like today. The dynamic duo: Missoni and Target. Super excited. Apparently I'm not the only one - the stores were cleaned out by 8:30am, and Target.com has been down all day. But I persevered and finally got through. (Another super-productive day at work, obviously.) Such a genius marketing ploy - once you finally get on the site, you feel obligated to buy something. Or was that just me.

Regardless, my Missoni rain boots and sweater dress should be arriving soon. And then I will look identical to everyone and their dog, who bought the same things. Whatev.

Best diet plan ever

...is looking at Halloween costumes online. Could these outfits BE any shorter/tighter/sluttier? (Answer: no.) I have recently refused to get sucked in to the sexy costume craze, and have instead worn "guy" costumes: Bret Michaels, Tom Cruise in Risky Business, Goose from Top Gun, and last year, Rocky. But methinks it might be time to get on the Halloween hoochie train.

Toot toot.

Holy Boot Camp, Batman

Bought a Groupon for a month of boot camp which kicked off today. Or should I say BUTT-kicked off day. Because it kicked my butt. And this one girl almost fainted about four times. I kept making her sit down, and eventually she vanished. I was seriously afraid that she passed out on the street somewhere, but she finally emerged when the class was over. Smart girl. Going back Wednesday - assuming I can move. And you know what happens when you assume...

Waterproof mascara. Stat.

Just when I thought I had cried all my tears for 9/11, yesterday turned out to be quite the sob-fest, 10 years later. Hit me first driving to the grocery store in the morning - the station was playing all patriotic songs, all the time (ah, Lee Greenwood's Proud to be an American. And followed by Whitney Houston's version of the Star-Spangled Banner? I was a goner.).

I semi-pulled it together (got out of the grocery store right before their "moment of silence," which I'm sure would have brought out the waterworks), and was doing okay for most of the afternoon, but then started watching the re-broadcast of A Concert for New York on vH1, and totally lost it. And then lost it again watching a Dateline special while lying in bed last night. Which meant I couldn't sleep. Thank god for seemingly constant reruns of Friends on Nick at Nite.

I'm a poster-making fool. Or maybe just a fool.

Our office is taking cookies from Tiff's Treats to a local firehouse today in honor of the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I made some tragic posters to bring along that say things like "USA!" and "Thank You, Heroes!" - hell, I even put little gold star stickers all over them. And therefore we will be telling the firemen and women that children of our employees made them. Although that's probably degrading to kids, who could no doubt make much better posters.

Slight poster-ish tangent: while shopping for the supplies, I saw colored paint pens which write on car windows. I know this is not exactly a new invention, since I always see cars in Highland Park boasting about "Seniors 2027!", but growing up we used white SHOE POLISH, people. (Which of course we already owned to shine up the saddle shoes...) I haven't shoe polished anyone's car since then - oh, except for my mom's 50th birthday. ("Honk! I'm 50!" She was not amused.)

And now that I'm talking about it, I would really like to shoe polish someone's car here in the next month or so. Just a heads up.

False advertising, much?

Okay, this is slightly embarrassing to admit, but here goes. I logged onto Pandora this morning, and the background screen was a giant ad for Match.com. (aka a bunch of dudes' headshots.)
There were four photos highlighted, suggesting they lived in Dallas. All four were ridiculously hot and I was like, "hmmm - haven't seen THESE guys before!" And so...yes. I am officially the girl who logged onto Match and typed in all four screen names. And no, they are not real profiles. Actually, two ARE real, but they both live in Hollywood. So we can assume they are actors. Sigh. Sounds about right. Fooled again. Match, 1. Sarah, 0.

New Obsession

...Pinterest. Dear god. Someone invited me to join last Friday and I swear I was hypnotized for 4 hours. (Not the most productive day at work.)

However, I'm not amused that every time I pin something, it winds up on Facebook. (That's what she said.)

I think that's ILLEGALLY Blonde...

Reese Witherspoon got hit by a car while jogging yesterday?? Sucks to be the person who runs over America's Sweetheart...

Kind of like a game of chess. Ish.

You know how when you go to the movies, you try not to sit right next to someone, unless you CAME with that person? (Although I believe it's guy code not to sit next to your buddy, period. Gotta leave some room in-between. Whatev.)

Well, the same pretty much goes for the bathroom stalls. I always think it's so funny how no one really wants to get the stall right next to someone else. There's an eye roll and a sigh when nothing else is open. Or maybe that's just lil' germaphobic me.

You just can't make this stuff up

Got an awesome Match email over the weekend. Horrible grammar and spelling, but to be fair, the guy was from Germany so I will cut him some slack. But not much. He said he was currently living in San Jose, California, but would be moving soon to "YOUR TOWN! Would like to meet up when I get to YOUR TOWN!"

Um. Form letter, much? I'm assuming he sent this to a bunch of girls, and if anyone writes back, he will in fact be moving to their town. Those Germans - ballsy.

Also got an email from a guy telling me he had briefly looked over my pictures, and had married (and divorced!) me in his mind. And thanked me for the imaginary memories. He is letting me keep our home in Hawaii, which is thoughtful - but why did we get divorced?!

I know you are all sooooo jealous that this is how I spend my time. :)

Finally drank the Kool-aid

...bought an iPad. And I pretty much have no idea what to do with it. Suggestions welcome.

Awesome song lyric in 3...2...1...

Come on baby, show some class
Why you want to move so fast
We don't have to take our clothes off
To have a good time
Oh no
We could dance and party
All night
And drink some cherry wine
Uh huh

Ah, Jermaine Stewart. Singing the (unofficial) purity pledge anthem.

Not exactly subtle, are we?

Love the ladies who work at nail salons. They don't BS around - tell it like it is. Went last night to get manis/pedis for a friend's bachelorette party, and my manicurist took one look at me and said, "Eyebrow wax." It really wasn't a question, more of a directive. Yes, it's been a while since I'd had one - but no one else in our group was even asked!! So of course I was guilted into saying yes, at which point she told me I needed a lip wax, as well: "long hair!" Um, it's BLONDE, lady. Not like I'm sporting a porn 'stache or anything...sheesh. So I turned that one down, but believe me when I say I looked at myself in the mirror for like half and hour when I got home, and might be going back this weekend for the rest of the waxing whirlwind.

That's how they getcha: tear you down and make you pay to build yourself back up. Genius, really.

Found a perfect place for Most Eligible Dallas to film...

...Glass. Went there over the weekend, and it was pretty much what I expected: Douche-ville. First of all, $10 to valet. Never a good sign. Plus you feel obligated to stay for a while to justify the price of parking...so we did. Gave it the ol' college try. And failed out after a semester.

All the girls there (waitresses included) were wearing the shortest, tightest "dresses" (probably shirts) I have ever seen. And sky-high stripper heels. (I'm sure any guys that read this are running over there right now...)

You couldn't sit down anywhere because every booth in the place was "reserved," although it was 10:30 and empty...

There was no sign on the bathroom doors indicating which was guys and which was girls. I was praying that it wasn't an Ally McBeal unisex situation, but luckily we guessed correctly and found the ladies room.

Glasses of wine were $14, but oddly the specialty drinks were a "steal" at $10, so we settled on a random Skinny Berry Guava something-or-other that I sipped on all night because hell if I was going to drop more than $20 on drinks. No ma'am. Not this cheapskate.

We attempted to make conversation with a few dudes, but nothing came of it, so we did what all girls do in that situation: hit the dance floor. Oddly I did know a few of the songs - kind of assumed it would be all house/techno with no words - but after that, we felt we had done all we could do, and got the hell out of there. (Of course, had to check myself in on Facebook beforehand. Because that's what I do.)

But long story short(ish), I think the cast of Most Eligible Dallas would be uber comfortable at Glass. It's their kind of people. Not mine. You're welcome, Bravo producers.