My day just got a thousand times better, Zeke sent me flowers. Aw! Sniffle. I feel loved.

Sucky Day


Saying it is a Monday doesn't even being to describe it. Saying it is a terrible-no-good-very-bad-horrible day begins to touch on it. Saying that life sucks sums it up.

Well, life doesn't suck anymore. But this morning was awful.

I went into Chick-Fil-A to quit and they couldn't have made it more difficult if they tried. Difficult in that they were trying to guilt trip me and then said awful things about me that made me want to cry. Why couldn't they just have said "You worked hard, thanks and have a nice day." Anyway.

Dad cheered me up and all is now well.

Catching Up


I just spent the last few minutes catching up with my sibling's blogs. They are so hysterical! I wish my post's were half as funny as their's. As usual, today's will be no exception since I am feeling paticularly dull, tired and bleary.

No, I do not have a hangover, I just spent the last four days working almost fourty-eight hours. Profitable yes, tiring as well. Resulting in the the fact Sunday morning the kitchen looked like a franternity party had been hosted in it and I sacrificially opted to stay home and clean up since Dad and T's arrival was supposedly emminent. (*Breaks arm patting self on back*)

Joy didn't win her pageant and I was decidedly angry and depressed Saturday night because she DESERVED to win. The girl who won was a fat troll who is very insincere. Rubbish!

Working at Preston has been interesting, because I was the only female I was quite the novelty. Also, they were used to the typical Baribizon babe, so since I could talk and write at the same time, they were absolutely flabbergasted. So much so, they offered me a job. Yay! Saying I had great people skills, blah, blah, blah. Maybe it was because I have boobs. But I would prefer to think it is my great people skills. =)

Highlights from the four days were: old men proposing, being told I looked like Cameron Diaz "because she is a hot, sexy lady" (like we didn't notice), being told I was "domesticated" and me asking if that meant I didn't scratch the furniture or I used the litterbox, watching all of them fall over from heart attack's when Joy walked in the door, being told I needed to gain weight and of course being generally loved and adored.

Counseling Seminar


This morning, as I was washing the dishes, I was having a trip down memory lane. I was writing rough drafts of my answers to Verity questions, the paticular one being "What are your views on Courtship?".

I started laughing because I had a flashback to about 4 years ago when Mom and I went to the counseling seminar, and the session was "Guarding your heart" or something like that. The speaker was sharing how their are four levels of friendship, and how we should not proceed past the level of "casual friend" with guys. My mother stood up out of the audience of about 400 and informed the speaker that it was NOT proper for a girl to go anything beyond "acquantance" with a guy.
It was at this point I was shrinking beneath my seat...

Now I can laugh heartily because it is so ironic... just like, on the way back from that seminar, it was Mom, five other girls, and me. One of the girls happened to be a goody-two-shoes-tattle-tale-suck-up who was a real pain in the butt. One of the girls and I got to discussing which guy at our church was most shallow (very deep of us I must admit) and the tattle-tale informed Mom that we were "talking about guys in hushed, secretive tones". For which we were properly chastized.
Side note: this girl was a little on the loopy side, she also protested us talking about David Wilkerson books stating they were "too graphic" and her parents would "ground her for a month" if she ever thought of reading them. Ever heard of the Mandie books? That was her steady diet of reading material. And, this girl almost had a nervous breakdown on the way home blubbering that "no one was her friend, and we all hated her". We all patted her gingerly on the back while making soothing, grunting noises and thinking "The truth hurts sweetie!"

Anyway, this was random, but a rather amusing flashback. I didn't even delve into the things that we got in trouble for at the seminar... or how we made Amy Taylor hate us, or how we got in BIG trouble with Christianna Reed (ATI godliness guru) anyway...

I got a modeling job today, I am so very happy! Horray! Especially because I am currently not working at Chick-Fil-A until further notice. Speaking of which, that company needs to call me about a interview...

Knee and Back


I went to the chiropractor yesterday and he informed me that the reason I have been hobbling about like a old lady is because my lower back has locked up my right hip which has irritated the nerves in my knees and ankles, and my neck is also very very stiff. Terrific

A Model Isn't Real


I am trying to understand what people don't get about the whole thing "model's aren't real." Models aren't supposed to be real people, or do things that real people would do. They are supposed to be... models! And pose. Etc. So, the conclusion would be that the model isn't being themself, rather posing and being whatever they are supposed to be representing. That is why you get paid to do it.

Well, people who have seen some of my pink hair pictures completely flip out. They say I look like a slut, worldly, edgy, etc. Well, I must have been doing a good job because that is what I was supposed to be representing. That isn't ME. Do you see me looking like I did in those pictures? No!

Read a letter I got from this one gentleman I used to go to church with:

Dear Sarah:
I saw the photos on your Dad's laptop of you with your wacky hairstyle and "bad girl" pose and frankly I thought it looked horrifying. Take my advice Sarah, start with the red dress, or any other of your nice dressed, pantyhose, black shoes, long natural hair, and the patented Sarah S**b***h smile-- and stay far, far away from wordly looks and wordly ways.

Anyway, I deleted those pictures, thanks Dad for showing them to EVERYONE.

Of Weddings and Boyfriends


I have decided dancing at weddings is severely overrated. Let me explain...
In the past, most of the weddings we have gone to were uber-conservative weddings. No dancing, no drinking, etc. And if there was dancing or drinking, we didn't partake. Well, as we are are getting more liberal (aka backslidden) in our old age, these activities are not taboo any longer. Joy and I attended our cousin Derek's wedding with the hopes that we would be able to dance and generally have a good time.

Things didn't exactly start out on the "good time foot" seated at our table were our grandparents, who cannot hear a blessed thing unless you shout, even then they have to loudly repeat it to make sure you got it right. The next couple was our Aunt and Uncle, who are actually rather fun. And the last couple was some old fogey couple who were very annoying. The old lady wanted to see if the roses in the middle of the table were real, so instead of just commenting they were beautiful, etc. She reached forward, pinched them firmly, rubbed a petal between her fingers, and then pronounced them real AND beautiful to the entire table.

Well, since everyone at our table was old, they left rather early, so Joy and I were sitting quietly bored to tears. The only dancing going on at that point was the chicken dance and the hokey pokey, not my idea, or Joy's for that matter, of a good time. Then, our charming uncle decided to find us some amusing company.
Joy's amusing company was a 34 year old real-estate broker who laughed loudly like a horse, wrinkled up his eyes rather oddly, and stared at the rest of the evening. And, might I add, was closer to the side of drunk than sober.
My charming company was a 23 year old who had spent the last nine monthes backpacking in Europe trying to find himself. He believed that most women should not go to college, but stay home and have children. His life plan was to master all there was to know in life (as the priest in the Count of Monte Cristo had done) and then influence the American culture, which sounds fantastic, but there were large ten year gaps that needed to be filled in order to call his plan complete. He loved arguing and I decided to be a good sport and be onery for the sake of a good arguement, and sweetly point out his flawed theology. (One word, Plato. He thinks he was brilliant. I told him he was a sick pervert.)

At this point, Joy and her little real-estate broker guy had decided to liven up the dance floor. Only problem was, real estate guy didn't want to dance, he wanted to watch Joy shake her cute booty. And Joy was not about to start hopping about the dance floor by herself. The DJ realized that no one was dancing to the fast songs, so he was putting on these completely sappy love songs, to which this plato loving guy made me dance. Three dances! Every minute of he enjoyed staring down my cleavage. I was fighting for every bit of dignity I could muster, and when that wasn't working, I was saying the most un-romantic things I could fathom.
Obviously, it worked, because Joy said she looked over and he was practically shaking his finger in my face.

Anyway, we finally made a fast getaway, and laughed long and loud at there expense for the rest of the night. It might not sound amusing, but it was. Maybe you just had to be there.

And as for the boyfriends, I laughed myself to sleep last night as my abstinence promoting sister was making out with her boyfriend in the den until all hours of the morning. She can SAY they weren't making out all of the time, but I can definately say otherwise, because I HEARD it. One word, gross.

Beauty Pageants?


Today I got my information on these beauty pageants I had been vaguely interested in. Well, I don't think I am cut out for it. For one, when trying to think of a compelling answer to the question "Why do you think you should be Miss Blah Blah?" I drew a blank. Because I want to? Because it would be fun? Because my sister is in pageants? Like I said, not very compelling.

Secondly, I put on a pair of jeans that fit me the past winter, and they are tight. Not just hold-your-breath-tight, but hold-your-breath-while-sucking-in-and-pulling-on-the-zipper-for-dear-life. Maybe it is because I wore them so much in the winter they stretched out, or maybe it's because I never washed them so they were ALWAYS stressed out. Did I say stressed? Oops, I meant stretched. So I have cried the perverbial river, and decided to drown in it.

I won't even start about work. I have reached the point while it is bordering on insanely comical.
You know how when you hate a person and your trying to sound nice your voice goes up a octave? Well, that is what I sound like the ENTIRE time at work. Anyway.

I don't have anything else I feel like typing, so toddles!

Happily Ever After


I have come to realize that I am decidedly pathetic and predictable. I love happy endings. Well, in life. not necessarily in books or movies, because that gets old, but when the rubber meets the road, I want a happy ending. Who doesn't? Everyone does! But there are your fair share of people that pretend they don't care, but I am blatent, I am proud, I am a huge fan of happy endings. But especially in relationships.

Tonight I was pondering ponderous thoughts, and I realized what a huge sucker I am. =) I admit it freely! But I hate seeing people I love hurt, I hate hearing the ending of what I thought was a "good thing." I guess that is why I am so defense of those I love, and of course, I realize without pain and without happy endings none of us would grow, and we would never learn anything new, but still, why can't everything end... nicely?

Other random happenings...

I curled my hair today, and it was... interesting. I look like a old lady. Triangle hair meets Shirley Temple meets the eighties!

I went to Nacho Pete's and the server was so impressed with my... shrek ears that he gave me a free drink!

I made a vow bomb every hotel and motel until ever last tourist is dead! Or get a bumper sticker that says "Lost your tourist child? Check under the wheels of my car."

I hung up on Zeke thinking it was Jared... that took awhile to explain. =)

Oooh! Tonight, we decided to have girl bonding (which was twice interrupted by Matt calling Joy, but we decided to forgive them) and Joy and I were being retarded lesbians. It doesn't sound that funny, but you had to see us.
First, Joy was walking with her knees locked, toes turned in, head cocked, and slurring her words. I was walking along shouting "Rain!!" and randomly snapping my arms straight up in the air. We would then both squish into the front seat blowing kisses at the passer-by's, or in Joy's case, drooling at them.
I was wearing my bathing suit under my jeans, and it has these cute mock tie things on the hips which happened to be peeking out from my jeans, and when I was tired of yelling "Rain!!" I would snach my ties, pull them up to my ears and shout "Freakety Freak Freak Freak!" Very random, very fun.
You should try it! (Say it loudly, and quickly, it's very theraputic.)
Laura of course was mortally embarrassed, especially when I rolled down the windows to catch raindrops with my tongue and yell at people.

The entire evening was a demonstration of why we do not get drunk. If we are this crazy sober...

Anyway, Laura leaves tomorrow and we were going to have a movie marathon tonight, but Joy has been on the phone with Matt for a hour and a half, so I think I might give up on this idea.

Shmuck's Wise Words


I replied to Doug (aka the Schmuck) email with a short and sweet "Thank you for taking the time to tell me how you really feel." To which he replied "In case you didn't get the message-Fuck Off Bitch."

I am so tempted to do a variety of hateful, annoying things. But, first of all I will be more mature than this freak, and secondly, it is way more fun when you are defending your sisters rather than yourself. When your defending yourself you can't do that whole righteous indignation thing. Anyway, at least I have the inner satisfaction of knowing that he is a flaming asshole. =)

I hate this


I just posted this great post, and the stupid computer said I posted it, but I guess it ate it, because it isn't showing up. If it would hurt the computer's feelings I think I would codemn it to eternal damnation.

Schmuck's Reply


Well, the shmuck didn't find my email very amusing, so he wrote back a very mature response which I shall let you read:

In case you didn't notice, I'm not trying to get anybody back, and the only
person whining and sniveling here is you. All I said was that I was
disappointed with being blown off, like ANY rational human would be, after
being kind to somebody. Included was advice to you and your sister to not
blow men off like that for no apparent reason, and instead communicate like
adults. Email was for your good, not for mine, and sent to you because the
other is ignoring me like a little child who didn't get her way.

And YES, a couple of women I know thought it was very kind for me to go out
there and support her.

As far as hitting on other girls there, that's a trap and makes me look like
a jerk. In case you didn't notice, they were all much too busy anyway. The
only one I managed to talk to at all was the 17yo (as if).

The other trap was the one set by you to get my to send her flowers, knowing
it would send the completely wrong idea, which it did. I should have known
it at the time, but I didn't think anybody could be so bitter and devious as
to deceive me into doing that. The fact is that you are so jealous of your
sister giving me attention that you decided to deviously sabotage her
relationship with me is disgusting. You succeeded. I hope you're proud of
yourself. In fact, you should be ashamed. You are insane and need help
badly. Deceit is a sin, and you should apologize to the appropriate higher
power. Don't bother apologizing to me, I'm not dealing with you anymore.

You have a lot of nerve with your snotty, condescending, email. Is that how
you talk to all men that have a relationship with Joy? That's great, no
wonder she can't find anybody. And your bleeding heart? You can cram that up
your ass. You really need help for your insanity.

What is this about dragging you into it? You dragged yourself in, remember?
"Hey Doug wanna get on her good side? Heheehehe" devious bitch.

You're right, I should have got the clue sooner that you were insane, and
since Iva is also insane, it would follow that Joy is insane. But she put up
a good act for a while there, and so did you for 1 week.

At this point, I would like you to fuck off (i.e., go fuck yourself) and
stay out of my life. And if you want your sister to be happy, try staying
out of her relationships as well.

"Vengeance is mine," sayeth the Lord.

The blessing of the LORD brings wealth, and he adds no trouble to it. -

I had a good laugh and thought you might want to join in. The irony is very obvious and if you don't find it funny... oh well. I'm glad he got a clue! =)

Of Being Asked Out By Old Guys


Something mildly amusing, to me anyway.

There is this fellow, well you could call him a fellow but he falls more under the lines of a shmuck. Anyway Joy was done with him, and made it quite clear, but he wasn't getting a clue. It wasn't in a sweet I-am-still-in-love-with-her way, it was more of a I-can't-believed-I-got-dumped, or why-did-I-let-the-hot-girl-slip-through-my-fingers. Either way, not exactly moving reasons to still be pestering her. He insisted on coming to the pageant, even though Joy discouraged it. Well, I emailed him and told him that he might want to send her flowers, and though it wouldn't win her, it would help if he EVER wanted a chance.


Well, he emails me this gibberish about how he thinks I don't like him, etc, etc and how he doesn't want to send her flowers for fear of "rejection" (how do you get rejected through flowers?). Anyway, I met him at the pageant, what a loser.

Example: he looks at a picture of his fat self and says "Wow! I look hot!" (In a hot-air blimp kind of way.) He called Joy once, and she opted to speding time with our family since she hadn't seen us in forever and he takes it as this ignoring/hating bull crap. And then he emails me and tells me my advice didn't work, and how he will never listen to me again. He emailed me a couple more times, and then he emailed me today saying that I should tell my sister to be nice to guys who sent her flowers; and this is what I had to say:

As a reward for your efforts? Don't feel chivilarious for attending a pageant with girls strutting around in bathing suits. Did she ASK you to come? You came because you wanted to, if you wanted to be rewarded, I'm sorry, I'll guess you'll have to wait until you get to heaven.
When I first emailed you, you said that you thought I didn't like you at the time there were no feelings like that, well, your making me dislike you. You could take rejection like a man, and keep trying to win her or get a clue, or you could whine, wimper and snivel; and personally I find it disgusting.

If your looking for sympathy, you'll find none here because I think Joy went beyond the call of duty to be nice to you.

I cannot speak for Joy, but if it were me I would be singularly unmoved by your tart-like emails. Would YOU find that compelling?

One last thought, I don't know how you keep working me into this equasion of getting Joy back, but I was doing a one time good deed to try and help you and you managed to mangle the efforts. I am not involved, I am not your lobbier to Joy, and I cannot for the life of me figure out what is tragic about that you need to complain.

And, if you had gotten a clue sooner, you could have gotten some of the very single chicks at the pageant. But, instead, you just stared...

My heart bleeds for you, truely it does.

Maybe that was harsh, maybe. But he deserved it. The schmuck is 33, and did I mention he asked me out the weekend of the pageant? And he WONDERS why my sister doesn't want to go out with him. Don't even get me started about guys who think dating Joy and I is interchangable because our bustline, haircolor and height are similar. **steam puffs out ears**

Anyway, just wanted to say I think Matt is amazing, incredible, and I love the way that he makes Joy glow and smile. =) Maybe he can bomb Doug's workplace or something and do the general free world a favor.

This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.


ATOM 0.3