The problem with drinking is you get drunk.

Girls burp and don't excuse themselves. They act like whores and think it's funny and charming. Guys talk loud and get cocky. They get all sweaty at the bar and try to rub up against you. I have some really bad stories about being drunk.

The first time I ever got schmashed was my friend Rachel's 18th birthday party. I remember it distinctly because of its abundance of ridiculous comments and eventual loss of shirt that resulted in totally hungover shame.

I'm a total control freak. My job requires it of me. My life requires it of me. I hate being out of control which equates to hating being drunk. When I start to feel that first bit of wooziness, I usually quit. Maybe once a year I will keep knocking them back until the point of no return. I think the last time I was actually really quite drunk was...I can't remember...New Years of 2009 maybe?

I don't like to say things I will regret the next day. I do that enough without the help of alcohol. It's not classy or cute to stumble around like an idiot and slur your words. It's annoying.

Every time I go out I see someone that I think the following about:

You're not funny. You're not charming. Everyone is laughing at you. Please put some clothes on and go home before you accidentally procreate.

Wow. I am not a nice girl at all. But this is a public service announcement. Not a gruesome one that shows what happens when you get addicted to methamphetamine and crack cocaine and you have scabs on your face and no family. A more light hearted public service announcement to say slow "Slooow down", the world is not your puking palace.

With that said, have a great weekend!

Sara

I am ridiculous. In a good way.

I'm a walking contradiction. I love the beach but I hate the sand. I love the snow but I hate the cold. I am argumentative and agreeable; empathetic and annoyed. I love my dog but she drives me batty. I'm divorced but I still believe in the lifetime commitment of marriage. I am a conservative who believes that gay people should be able to get married.

I am organized and a disaster.

I am silly and solemn.

I am responsible and I cannot ever make a decision.

So, this is my plan: I am throwing out my pro/con steno pad and I am buying a Magic 8 Ball. I am going to consult it about everything. I figure I have just about as good a chance as making the right choice with the Magic 8 Ball as I do with my brain. If you ask me if I want to come over and I pull out a Magic 8 Ball, shake it, and tell you I can't-you know it's not you.

The fates have chosen.

I feel pretty good about this decision. Don't worry. I won't ask it ridiculous things like "should I fly to California and jump off the Golden Gate Bridge" I am ridiculous, not reckless. Seriously.

The only problem is the logistics of actually carrying said Magic 8 Ball with me. I might have to make it its own satchel to hang off my purse.

I am rockin' the Magic 8 Ball. Super classy.

I know you are all jealous you didn't think of it first.

But since I know you will all follow in my wake with your own Magic 8 Ball satchels I will end this by saying,

"Happy Shaking"

The Totally Irrelevant Things People Say.

The question of the day is this: why do people bring up the most ridiculous, irrelevant, and stupid things when in an argument?

I'm guilty. I've done it many times. But I just. don't. get. it.

The other day while in a text fight with my ex (thank you technology for vomiting out that little treasure, whatever would I do if I couldn't get into a three hour text war) he writes to me, "you don't know what love is" which at that moment was about as relevant as saying "you hate turtles". Seriously, we were talking about our house and he comes out with "you don't know what love is"? And while I commend him on his proper grammar courtesy of the iPhone auto correct function the comment was, well, totally irrelevant.

I know sometimes the mind wanders. Occasionally someone will be talking and you were only half listening and you feel like an idiot when you reenter the conversation from three minutes ago. It's embarrassing. But when it's text form-there is no reason to not know where you left off. Just saying.

And God forbid that we actually call each other. Instead all that stupidity is actually in writing. I text on occasion but I rather like conversating with real flesh and blood humans. It's no wonder we haven't been invaded by space aliens-they have been intercepting our texts for the past five years and they are going to just let us kill ourselves off-because it's bound to happen eventually.

Of all the ridiculous posts...

Sara

Don't take life too seriously. Afterall, no one gets out alive.

While I was eating too many jelly beans today I was thinking of all the reasons why I don't need them.

I don't like being overweight because it puts me at risk for so many problems. It's not healthy to be overweight, strokes, infertility, diabetes, self esteem problems, quality of relationships, caliber of men (let's admit that they're all a little shallow), and I have a family history of early heart attacks.

Today at the gym I was elliptically-ing (yes I know that's not a word) my butt off (literally) listening to Flogging Molly. I rarely watch the news at the gym but something caught my eye. The average life expectancy for an American woman has recently increased to 80.5 years. Studies show that being even moderately overweight can decrease life expectancy. Of course it depends on how overweight you are but they estimate that being overweight can take anywhere from 9 months to 10 years off your life.

Think of the last 10 years. If I hadn't lived the last 10 years I wouldn't have experienced the low lows or the high highs. I would have missed four vacations to Hawaii, high school, graduating, my first kiss, marriage, divorce, falling in love, my first job, entire friendships, and becoming the quirky, silly woman I am.

This is nothing compared to what I could be keeping myself from at the end of my life. Think of it. Grand kids come to mind first but then there is also wisdom, getting to see how the world has changed, having an excuse to say anything I have ever wanted to say but didn't...there are so many possibilities. Not to mention how different the journey to the grave might be if it were filled with doubt, self conscientiousness, and health problems.

I refuse to trade 10 years for any kind of food. I will not give up beautiful, amazing experiences for jelly beans. I want my life to be full of life. I want my future husband's life to be full of life and I want my childrens' life to be full of life.

Everyone's life should be full. I am becoming exactly who I want to be and it feels so food...oops, I mean good. :o) I never want to stop growing, I never want to stop laughing, and I never want to throw the gift of good health away by not taking care of myself.

In the name of true happiness,
Sara

Male Refrigerator Blindness vs. Female Bag Excavation Syndrome

Every woman who has ever lived with a man knows about the disease that is being called the "Male Refrigerator Blindness" pandemic. In the early stages of this disease men become disoriented upon opening the fridge and will call you to the kitchen and ask you to point out the location of some form of nourishment that is right in front of their face. These symptoms will quickly progress into questions such as "where are my shoes that you don't wear" and "have you seen my green boxers with The Hulk on them". In the final stages of this disease he will begin to query about the final resting place of various tools. They tend to ask specifically about items when they know you have no idea what they are.

Please note that this is an incurable disease but is nothing compared to the female version of this sickness which is far worse because of its perpetual, never ceasing symptoms. This is called "Female Bag Excavation Syndrome" or "FBES". I suffer from the sickness. Please let me explain what a typical afternoon looks like for a sufferer of FBES.

I just unthinkingly dropped my keys into my purse after locking up the office and now I am standing by my car in the freezing cold wondering how my keys could possibly be any place except on the very top of the abyss. I shake my bag. I do not hear them. I shake my bag again...nothing. So I begin to pull things out and stash them in my armpits and pockets until finally beneath my wallet, sunglasses, a Target receipt from Christmas of 2009, a rolled up straw wrapper from Subway, and a french fry I find my keys nestled in a bed of seven pennies, two quarters, and a lip gloss that I thought I'd lost.

I am sorry to say that there is not help for this and it will get worse as your life changes. There comes a time where you may have a purse, diaper bag, and a gym bag all at the same time.

There is no explanation for this phenomenon. The only comfort is knowing that when you get to heaven the video of your life will not be the only one that shows 25% of your time engaged in some sort of bag extraction.

If you would like to look at this from an optimistic standpoint-even if you're an odd person-at least you know every other girl spends copious amounts of time trying to unearth their keys too.

Until next time, keep digging!

Sara

I'm about to cry-do I eat or do I exercise?

Even though I do not post it all over Facebook I have a complicated relationship situation. Except it just uncomplicated itself this morning. I won't get into the details but I will admit to having a fifteen minute session of balling my eyes out. I wanted to eat a cheeseburger. Or pasta. Or chocolate cake.

But I didn't.

I put on my gym shoes at 4:45am and marched out the door. I sang extremely loud to obnoxious songs. I went tanning. I worked out for 2 hours. I came to work. So maybe I shed a few (tears) on the elliptical...no one knows that it wasn't sweat.

And I'm okay. Really. And I didn't have to stuff my face! Hallelujah!

What a good feeling. I feel like I can control my life again for the first time since Allen.

It's okay to be okay even when everything is not okay. What a relief.

Confession time. I miss my Joe. I actually chose to leave the first man that has ever loved me. Well, besides my dad and grandpas. I hate that phrase "you made your bed, now you have to lay in it" because what does that even freaking mean? But it's true in the way that people use it. The only word I can think to use is "shit" and hope that there is someone out there who can love me for the crazy, quirky girl-woman-whatever that I am.

At the gym today a song came on my Pandora called "Mardy Bum" by Arctic Monkeys. I won't lie and say that it's not the one that made me cry. It's me. So me. And I hope someday I find someone that can accept it and laugh with me about it. Because it's who I am...and for the first time in my life I don't want to change that.
I have provided the lyrics for your enjoyment:

Well now then Mardy Bum
I've seen your frown
And it's like looking down the barrel of a gun
And it goes off
And out come all these words
Oh there's a very pleasant side to you
A side I much prefer
It's one that laughs and jokes around
Remember cuddles in the kitchen
Yeah, to get things off the ground
And it was all up, up and away
Oh, but it's right hard to remember, yeah
On a day like today when you're all argumentative
And you've got the face on

Well now then Mardy Bum
Oh I'm in trouble again, aren't I
I thought as much
Cause you turned over there
Pulling that silent disappointment face
The one that I can't bear

Why can't we just laugh and joke around
Remember cuddles in the kitchen
Yeah, to get things off the ground
And it was up, up and away
Oh, but it's rate hard to remember,yeah
On a day like today when you're all argumentative
And you've got the face on

And yeah I'm sorry I was late
but I missed the train
And then the traffic was a state
And I can't be arsed to carry on in this debate
That reoccurs, oh when you say I don't care
but of course I do, yet I clearly do,yeah!

So laugh and joke around
Remember cuddles in the kitchen
Yeah, to get things off the ground
And it was up, up and away
Oh, but it's rate hard to remember,yeah
On a day like today when you're all argumentative
And you've got the face on

Until next time I hope that you love yourself. I hope you know you're beautiful. I hope you know that life is an amazing gift...even when everything is not okay.

Sara

All I have to work with is soup chest.

On top of having a mild case of ADD as evidenced by my last posting I am also somewhat clumsy. This comes in part from the fact that I am constantly multitasking. I have two computer screens at work. One I use to check and respond to the hundreds of emails I receive and the other I use to complete tasks in our production software.

Today I found myself on the phone ordering a payoff, eating oatmeal, and working up a settlement statement. Combine this with the fact that this job requires me to be extremely accurate and detail oriented and after a few years it's enough to send anyone over the edge.

My friend and coworker once said...well actually she exclaimed. My friend once exclaimed, "the OCD and the ADD are so bad we are all going to end up in API (that's the Alaska Psychiatric Institute)

And it's so true.

So, I will blame my employment for my clumsiness and ask for compensation for sweaters ruined by ink toner and pizza sauce, pants ruined by spilled coffee, and shoes broken from running around like a crazy person wondering, "what's HAPPENING."

Today I spilled soup down the front of my WHITE sweater while I was eating lunch with the Realtors from upstairs because I was too busy talking to focus on eating. I try to keep the dishabille to a minimum but the fact is I probably do one closing a month with something on my shirt.

If I look right at you and drop a file full of papers on the floor and have to spend the next 20 minutes reassemble them just know I've been here before.

So if you choose to be my friend please know that if we go out to eat, I will probably end up wearing some of it.

You may say I am ridiculous. I say it's part of my charm.

My ficus needs a hair cut and other weird things I do and say that seem inappropriate when they're not.

I have been known to make some pretty off the wall comments. Trust me, these are things that I look back on for weeks and sometimes even years and cringe over. Sometimes, I have to chuckle a little through the embarrassment. Because if there is one thing I truly believe it is this: If you can't laugh at yourself, you are doomed to live a miserable, unhappy life.

That being said today I totally mooned the paper shredder guy. It started innocent enough with my shred box overflowing onto the floor. We are supposed to be paperless at work but I am holding on to the paper like the spaghetti sauce on my favorite sweater. At any rate, my office is all static and my skirt got stuck to my butt. I bent over very lady like to pick up the 500 pound box and, well, the rest is history. At least I don't go commando. 

I am totally embarrassed and on top of that I had the urge to scream "Sorry about the free show, you all come back now ya hear" or something equally as awkward because that's what I do. When the social gets awkward, I blurt out whatever comes into my stupid head.

That story is exhibit A.

Next we have exhibit B. Last week I was in a marketing meeting with my manager, the president of the company, and our marketer. The marketer was talking about how one licensee does business with a lot of the local Russian builders but what he said was, "she DOES all the Russians" at which point my inner junior high student thought it would be a good time to giggle. He said, "she does all the Russians." and I GIGGLE? I am sure the president was super impressed. It wasn't even turn into a coughable...it was a full on giggle. Total FML moment.

There are many other stories where I have made a total fool of myself with word and deed that I am sure I could share-and probably will share at some point. The most important thing is that I have come to accept and even appreciate my oddness, silliness, my sense of humor, and yes, even my occasional immaturity.

A sense of humor... is needed armor. Joy in one's heart and some laughter on one's lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life.
~*Hugh Sidey*~
Until next time....laugh.

Sara