Flowers 2


No, someone else did not send me flowers, but I had to tell the rather amusing story regarding recieving them.

The past few days I have been quizzed on my dating and love life, this very afternoon, my supervisor was drilling me. I always demurely respond that no, I do not have a boyfriend, etc. This mystifies them and they try to match me up with everyone.

Well, someone saw the flower delivery guy pull up, I was glumly and obliviously collating papers, when they rushed up to my desk, guessing who they would be for. They were so sure they were going to be for me, I was like, whatever. Our office is inundated with wives who have husbands who do nice things like send flowers. I'm serious. And I happen to be the only single, unmarried one of the lot. But I digress. Anyway, so when they turned out to be for me, I actually blushed. And of course they had to hear all about him... what is there to tell? He is a really, really nice guy. *really big grin*



Today has been a rather sad and glum day, but it just got twenty, no make that thirty times better.

Someone found out I was having a bad day, having never met me, sent me flowers!! Does life get any better? Do guys get any nicer? I would like to note this is the same person who has the virtue of a nice shoe collection.

Thank you!

Lean On Me


I had this great post all planned out this morning, but at this very moment, I am far too tired to even try and think of what is was. It is far easier for me to sit here and feel sad and unloved than come up with some sort of ground-breaking witty post.

My life has a certain bleakish pallor to it for the next year and a half or so. Sigh. Anyway. Enough feeling sorry for myself. Truly. Enough.

When I am a little less trollish feeling, I shall post something of substance and depth.



Today has turned into one of those days that you just want to cry. I have no paticular reason, and no Fredd I am not PMSing, I simply feeling sorry and pathetic for myself, by myself.

Rather appropriate I must say. So, I shall listen to Daredevil all evening and be generally reclusive while I contemplate refusing food and drink, but end up taking it. What fun is it to be miserable if you aren't allowed to complain how fat you are?

Things I Hate:

  • Cold congealed hamburgers
  • Stacks and stacks of paperwork
  • Annoying oldies
  • Ignorant people that cannot even find the lavatory on their own
  • Just having taken a bite of the aforementioned cold hamburger only to have a really cute guy walk in the door. Did I mention the endearing speck of mustard on the cheek?
  • Feeling generally fat
  • Actual contemplation of vomiting up the twice aforementioned cold hamburger which is now racing towards your already cellulite laden butt
  • Sisters who are disgustingly cute, thin and are constantly being sent flowers. Reason? See aforementioned adjectives
  • People who use the word "aforementioned" in every other sentance

Nearly Naked


As I write that title I realize that I have a foundation by Almay by that exact same name, but of no consiquence, because I was nearly rendered to that state this morning. Yes, let me explain.

I wore this darling vintage houndstooth dress to work. Very cute, a little on the short side and very tight in the shoulders. I know I am a broad shouldered girl, but this was to the point where it was uncomfortable to make any sudden unplanned motions. Well, in the hustle and bustle of the morning, I made a sudden motion without first consulting my shoulder, forearm and any other accessory body parts I might have negelected, only to be greeted with a loud and cheerful RIP! The arm to my beautiful dress now dangled by a few precarious threads. (Who said they don't make things like they used to? Thank the good Lord or we would be a colony of exhobitionists or something of the sort.) So, here was my shoulder and surrounding areas, naked! For God and everyone to see! Most traumatizing I assure you!

But, I can also assure you, I did not huddle under my desk, nor did I denude the other arm in an attempt to be stylish. I was the very definition of grace under pressure, merely keeping my arm clamped to my side until my sister could come to my rescue with a hints-of-ati outfit, but clothing nonetheless! What was even more amusing, was that the quick wardrobe change prompted comments across the office about what a wonderful dresser I am, fashion plate and generally how stylish I am. Right. That's why I was practically streaking in the office.

In other news, Laura and I have taken the first steps in adopting a puppy. No labrodoodles for us!

Fire and Brimstone


Today is one of those mornings, where instead of mentally swearing up a blue streak, I am trying to be prim, proper and holy by condemning all ornery people to hell-fire and damnation. Unfortunately, many people have not taken too kindly to my holy-roller stance.

In other news, Jared visited for the weekend and while I don't expect guys to be perfect, I really don't know what he was smoking. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to seduce him into thinking that he could be disrespectful to Dad, which made me vow from here on out to make his life as miserable as possible, or living hell. (See the aforementioned sentance on the damnation of Sarah.) And I do not think he understands the compacity I have to make his life on this end rather uncomfortable. I have been tolerant, nay encouraging him to pursue my sister, but I thought him far more intelligent than rubbing me the wrong way. Alas! Some people are doomed for a life of stupidity and ignorance.

Hmm.. all in all, that might be a touch harsh, but I do not take kindly to people who do not realize the depth, gravity or privledge of dating my sisters. Rather than kindly awakening them, if they are too foolish to realize what a treasure they have, it isn't worth trying to help them understand. Laura is a gem, a treasure, something that is not often found. If you have any doubts as to my loyalty, please check out my archives in April, on Marines and their general behavior.



I do not know what possesed Laura and I, but we decided last night that we need a puppy.

So, we are now scouring everywhere for a cute puppy that will not grow into something ugly. Ideas, inspirations or suggestions? Let us know, we will need them I am sure.

Redeemable World


I have decided, that this world is not hell-bent to destruction, because I found a straight guy, besides Andrew Fear, that not only likes shoe shopping, but has an extensive collection himself!

I must confess, today's outfitas well as hair, is very adorable. Since today is casual day at work, I ws able to wear Laura's very cute pencil-cut jeans and various other pieces of clothing, which if described would not do justice to the cute outfit. But, the important piece is the fact that I managed to incorperate Dad's old buffalo nickel belt. Anyway, this post doesn't make sense, but it is a cute outfit.

I am also very frustrated because I had a very long email typed out, and my computer erased it. Evil thing. Alas! Anyway I must retype this email, so I must jet for now.

Ben Stein's Last Column


How Can Someone Who Lives in Insane Luxury Be a Star in Today's World?

As I begin to write this, I "slug" it, as we writers say, which means I put a heading on top of the document to identify it. This heading is"FINAL," and it gives me a shiver to write it. I have been doing this column for so long that I cannot even recall when I started. I loved writing this column so much for so long I came to believe it would never end. It worked well for a long time, but gradually, my changing as a person and the world's change have overtaken it.

On a small scale, Morton's [famous restaurant which was often frequentedby Hollywood stars], while better than ever, no longer attracts as many stars as it used to. It still brings in the rich people in droves and definitely some stars. I saw Samuel L. Jackson there a few days ago, andwe had a nice visit, and right before that, I saw and had a splendidtalk with Warren Beatty in an elevator, in which we agreed that Splendor in the Grass was a super movie. But Morton's is not the star galaxy it once was, though it probably will be again.

Beyond that, a bigger change has happened. I no longer think Hollywoodstars are terribly important. They are uniformly pleasant, friendly people, and they treat me better than I deserve to be treated. But a manor woman who makes a huge wage for memorizing lines and reciting them infront of a camera is no longer my idea of a shining star we should alllook up to.
How can a man or woman who makes an eight-figure wage and lives ininsane luxury really be a star in today's world, if by a "star" we meansomeone bright and powerful and attractive as a role model? Real stars are not riding around in the backs of limousines or in Porsches or getting trained in yoga or Pilates and eating only raw fruit while theyhave Vietnamese girls do their nails. They can be interesting, nice people, but they are not heroes to me any longer.

A real star is the soldier of the 4th Infantry Division who poked his head into a hole on a farm near Tikrit, Iraq. He could have been met bya bomb or a hail of AK-47 bullets. Instead, he faced an abject Saddam Hussein and the gratitude of all of the decent people of the world. A real star is the U.S. soldier who was sent to disarm a bomb next to aroad north of Baghdad. He approached it, and the bomb went off and killed him.. A real star, the kind who haunts my memory night and day, is the U.S. soldier in Baghdad who saw a little girl playing with apiece of unexploded ordnance on a street near where he was guarding a station. He pushed her aside and threw himself on it just as it exploded. He left a family desolate in California and a little girl alive in Baghdad.

The stars who deserve media attention are not the ones who have lavish weddings on TV but the ones who patrol the streets of Mosul even after two of their buddies were murdered and their bodies battered andstripped for the sin of trying to protect Iraqis from terrorists. We put couples with incomes of $100 million a year on the covers of ourmagazines.
The noncoms and officers who barely scrape by on military pay but standon guard in Afghanistan and Iraq and on ships and in submarines and nearthe Arctic Circle are anonymous as they live and die.

I am no longer comfortable being a part of the system that has such poor values, and I do not want to perpetuate those values by pretending that who is eating at Morton's is a big subject. There are plenty of other stars in the American firmament... the policemen and women who go off on patrol in South Central and have no idea if they will return alive. The orderlies and paramedics who bring in people who have been in terrible accidents and prepare them for surgery, the teachers and nurses who throw their whole spirits into caring for autistic children, the kindmen and women who work in hospices and in cancer wards. Think of each and every fireman who was running up the stairs at the World Trade Center as the towers began to collapse.

Now you have my idea of a real hero. We are not responsible for the operation of the universe, and what happens to us is not terribly important. God is real, not a fiction, and when we turn over our lives to Him, He takes far better care of us than we could ever do for ourselves. In a word, we make ourselves sane when we fire ourselves as the directors ofthe movie of our lives and turn the power over to Him.

I came to realize that life lived to help others is the only one that matters. This is my highest and best use as a human. I can put it another way. Years ago, I realized I could never be as great an actor as Olivier or as good a comic as Steve Martin--or Martin Mull or Fred Willard--or as good an economist as Samuelson or Friedman, or as good a writer as Fitzgerald. Or even remotely close to any of them. But I could be a devoted father to my son, husband to my wife and, above all, a good son to the parents who had done so much for me. This came to be my main task in life. I did it moderately well with my son, pretty well with mywife and well indeed with my parents (with my sister's help). I cared for and paid attention to them in their declining years. I stayed with my father as he got sick, went into extremis, into a coma, and then entered immortality with my sister and me reading him the Psalms.

This was the only point at which my life touched the lives of thesoldiers in Iraq or the firefighters in New York. I came to realize thatlife lived to help others is the only one that matters and that it is my duty, in return for the lavish life God has devolved upon me, to help others He has placed in my path. This is my highest and best use as a human.

First Day of Fall


I just wanted to commemorate today being the first day of fall.

I love fall! Fall means bonfires, pretty leaves, fun pictures, MY BIRTHDAY and the coming of Christmas!

*happy fall dance*

Fan Clun Information


I love taking Fredd to school, it gives me a chance to catch up with his life, talk about my life and generally be chummy and sisterly. All in three minutes flat.

Today, he informed me that the aforementioned fan club was the "weirdest, sickest and most perverted" 11 &12th graders. Ah well! One cannot be picky in fan clubs... such is the delimma of life.

Though I did tell him he could go ahead and use my cell phone number for bribery and extortion powers, something I definately would have done to my sisters. When I told him this, his eyes widened a bit, and he was rather shocked at my offer. "Really? Even if it meant getting phone calls from 12th graders offering to solicit all fourteen inches of manhood?"

Well, ahem. Don't press your luck. But I have handled worse, and anything for Fred, right? Ok, not quite anything. But what he needs to do is use my number as bait, not actually pass it out. Much more leverage that way.

In other news, this morning I was awakened at an ungodly hour to the sounds of thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. *DOOR SLAM* And then everything repeated, again and again.

Then Joy comes wailing over to the couch "Sarah!! I cannot find the DC atlas, and I am late! And Mary is always on time..." Then she THUMPED away... maybe by this time she was stumping. Anyway. So, I wrapped myself in a blanket, set out to find the atlas.

Dad then emerges from his bedroom. "Oh! Your up too Sarah!" NOO! I informed him I was merely being a kind sister. We searched and searched. Until Dad made the discovery it was in their bedroom. Of course! We should have thought of it first.

Needless to say, I need to go to bed early tonight.



I am a genius! As declared by me.

My blogger was being very odd and onery, everytime I tried to post, it would make me remove two lines of the HTML code form my blogging template.

I, singlehandedly, managed to figure out how to remove those two lines from my permanent template. Well Fredd may scoff and other simply be amazed at my sheer likliness to an idiot, I am very proud of myself. Because I have not a geek cell in my body and that was a very geekish thing to do. So, kudos to me. Even if no one else thinks so.

The Bride


I absolutely loved this song, every time it comes on the radio, it makes me smile. It makes me think of certain *ahem* people, who everyone is convinced they will be such a great catch.

The day is finally here

There's flowers everywhere
The guests are waiting with sweet anticipation
As I look down the aisle the preacher starts to smile
Church bells are ringing and the organ is playing
I'm so overcome that I could cry
I'm so happy I'm not the bride

Shes such a pretty thing
She don't know anything
Not gonna tell her that shes outta her mind
The preacher asks the question
No, I have no objection
I do, I do, I want him outta my life
Throw the rice and let those white dove fly
O happy day I'm not the bride

Eat some more cake
Throw the bouquet
Pass the champagne
It's time to celebrate
I'm gonna dance this night away

The groom is getting loud
His new wife starts to shout
O this is perfect, it can only get better
There fighting in the car, off to a real good start
His mama's crying, aren't they lovely together
Their driving away, we wave them good-bye

Close call, relax, Amen, Hallelujah
But by the grace of God go I: I'm not the bride.
Well, I'm not the bride.
I'm free, I'm free, I'm free.
I'm not the bride.Thank God!
Goodbye now.
Good luck girl.
You're gonna need it.
Ha, ha, ha.

Bwahahah! I just think it is very amusing.

Another Fredd


Prehaps I live a boring life, prehaps I am easily amused, but in any account Fredd never ceases to amaze me.

Please read his blog

You will be a better person with a keener sense of humor because of it.

I swear, that kid is going to take over the world, really. So I would advise reading his blog regularly for updates, as well as being able to claim you are his friend when the need arises. Which, I believe, might be in the rather immediate future.

And too the people who say he is going to be the next Bill Gates, do not insult him! He is far smarter, wittier, better-looking and better-dressing than Bill Gates. Besides, Fredd doesn't look as if he has been hurtled into a brick wall, scraped up and put back together as some people do.

Pretty Sisters


Iva came into work today, kindly bringing me lunch like the sweet sister that she is, only to provoke the remarks of everyone, that we look nothing alike.

You know peoples, I knew I was not as pretty as her, but do you have to rub it in? That's just cruel.



I had, for one brief shining moment, a very amusing post appropriately titled:

Of First Kisses and Jerks

But, because my sister is an avowed fun-killer and cannot laugh at her mistakes, I had to take it down.


Evil Blogger


Fred had requested that I post my HotorNot listing. But, blogger is being paticularly evil at the moment, so I think I will simply have to post a link.

According to Fred, I have accumulated a fan club of guys-who-think-Freds'-sister-is-hot. Yay for Fred! He should try and use me for leverage... or bargaining powers, by all means go for it Fred! It is definitely something I would have done with Laura or Joy. Maybe that's why they don't like me.

In other news, as I requested your prayers, I did pass the CLEP, with an A! I prayed the entire way to the test, my symtoms ceased while I was taking it, and the moment I walked out of the testing center, they resumed. It was just kinda neat to see how specifically the Lord answered that prayer. And, my cold, just for the record, is much better.

Preston informed me they sold the Mini last week, wholesale. Damn them.

I just realized, if I keep this profanity up, I might be unapproved by Character Link! Perish the very thought of it. I shall now use little ****ing stars instead!



Well, this is just a spiffy way to start my fall/winter.

I have one of those annoying, hateful, horrible colds that leaves you feeling as if you hate life in general, and should promptly die, on the spot. Which I have contemplated, but decided against.

I have this test tonight, and I am really afraid I am going to fail, which is awful since it is supposed to be the easiest out of all the CLEPS! But, my drugs are making me woozy and tired. I refuse to postpone it mainly because I already have, and I do not want to get behind.

If I pass, it will only be by the tender mercies and grace of the Lord. Which I sincerily hope He will grant.



I have discovered a way to persuade myself not to buy completely unnecessary clothing when I am shopping. (Though I do not think there is such a thing as unneeded clothing unless it is acid washed jeans or plaid jumpers.)

Basically, I reason myself out of liking it. It is quite simple, take for instance:

The very adorable celery green corderoy tab-front pants from Casual Corner. I convinced myself that since the wale was so fine, it would make me look like a curvy celery root. Or worse, like Kermit the Frog, with hips.

The adorable black eyelet dress which was a more garden party version of Laura's was oh-so-cute, but I convinced myself that if I got it, even more people would think we were twins.

Of course, the diagonnaly brightly striped satin skirt was rather temting, but I thought I might look a touch too close to that of a lolly-pop.

I almost purchased the perfect pair of barbie shoes, they were clear pink plastic with a white sole, with three and a half inch heels. But highly unversatile. Besides, I have fat feet, right?

In other news, I have offically been slapped on the wrist. I got a speeding ticket for going ninety-one miles per hour in a fifty five hour zone. Yikes! And because I am one month away from being eighteen, I have to go to court. And I have no idea how I am going to explain that to the judge when I go to talk about my ticket for which I am on probation. Or maybe I will just get allot of points, unless I look really innocent. Or Dad can talk me out of it, which is doubtful.

The really annoying thing was that the cop didn't even care that I was speeding, in fact, he warned me their was another cop ahead, but besides that I could speed. Argh! Anyway.

Xati Guy


This is a pretty cool dude with a very cool blog. I can only aspire to write as clever and wittily as he, and here is his blog.

I so appreciated his work, that I wrote a quick note about our trip to Verity, as follows.

Though we have been out of the good graces of the Institute for some
time, my sister and I (foolishly) decided to go to Verity, thinking it
would be much quicker than a traditional college degree. Ah! A bit of
the blue and white blood must still flow in our veins...

So, thinking we could survive anything for a week, we grimly headed up
to the Verity orientation. We packed our "edgiest" conservative
clothing, not really caring what we labeled or what sub-group we were identified with, as long as we didn't get thrown out. And even then, we weren't sure if that would be a tragedy.

We arived in blazing glory, we had made charming t-shirts that
proclaimed "Billy's Angels" across the back (since writing across the
chest is distracting) and jeans. Acting like niave college students who would have no idea that the dress code applies once you cross the
property line. Even with our bolstered and brave attitudes, the moment
the red carpet fumes hit our nostrils, we were ready to run back out
the doors. Wait, we hadn't walked in at that point...

We arrived at our room in the Character Inn (more than a good night's
sleep) to find they had TV's. The novelty of it all! And we didn't
even have to unplug them and turn them towards the wall, old CI
fashion. We were gravely disappointed to find the only channels you
could recieve without calling the front desk included Christianna Reed
and Treasures in The Snow.

The next morning we put on our war faces, my sisters outfit neatly
fell under the dress guidlines, even though the only fish-net clad
flesh you could see was a demure ankle. My lipstick was red and
blazing. When we came in contact with anyone of the of the opposite gender, we would discreetly avert our eyes, so it could not be said that we were leading young men astray.

After looking at our schedulse, we were amazed at the sheer amount of
time they were wasting, and the complete lack of sense of humor among
other students. We had to go around say our names, favorite color,
etc. Just like middle school! When I said "clear--because I am
blonde" only one person got it. Which made me wonder to their true hair
color. And when one girl said "red" another student remarked what a
"angry" color it was, I had to physically bite my toungue from
shouting out, it is the color of passion! Use the carpets well!

To sum up our tale of woe, we went to the authorities and said we had
"cautions in our spirit because our time was not being used wisely...
could we please return home?" It worked! We were there a total of
fourty-eight hours, managed to rock their world, and go home without
being SENT! Now that is a tale of bravery!

Bad Habits


As a twin, or sequal to my list of what makes me odd, or very strange, or unique or whatever, I was thinking of all my bad habits and flaws. I am quite peculiar...

I frequently neglect to put cd's back in their cases. Which merely results in me scratching up not all, but some of my cd's.

I do not like to eat breakfast, let me rephrase that, I normally don't like breakfast food, I have to be be in the mood for it, but I am always in the mood for cold pizza for breakfast. Or dinner leftovers.

The only soda I will drink is diet coke. With lemon, lime, vanilla or whatever. I will drink diet Pepsi if I am in a severe bind, but I really do not like the non-diet versions, and can most definately not stand anything such as Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew, Sprite, Seven-Up, Root Beer, etc.

I have this strange obsession with scarves and sheos you can never have too many.

I am still in search of the perfect, fool-proof, everyone loving chocolate chip cookie recipie. I have found some good ones, but no perfect ones.

I collect mascara, and am the walking encyclopedia on most of it. I can also personally advise you to what kind you need for your type of lashes.

I hate having painted fingernails unless they are french manicured. I don't know why, but I simply cannot stand it on myself, anyone else is fine.

Even though I am supposed to hate McDonalds I secretly like their chicken nuggets with sweet and sour sauce. And I hate Wendy's. Who wants a square hamburger? Besides, all their food is just weird tasting.

I have actually eaten, a crab eyeball, several goldfish, earthworms, grand-daddy long legs and tofu.

I find cartoons very annoying, even when I was little.

I secretely wish I could be a red head.

I cannot dance even though I wish I could.

I used to read my sister's diaries. Oh the sweet revenge of little sisters!

I wish that I were skinny like Iva. So what she doesn't have boobs, there ares seriously worse things in life, like being fat. Besides, have you never heard of surgery?

My eyelashes are fake. They are Scandinaivan implants...

Bozo The Clown


I am very proud of myself, my hair is at this very present Bozo-the-clown orange and I haven't cried, thrown myself on the floor screaming or anything of the sort.

In fact, I actually laughed! Definately a improvement on some of my other vanity-injuring mistakes...

I actually find it quite funny, I wore this scarf over my hair, as was the style in the sixties, and everyone thinks I am simply a fashion maven. If they only knew. Well, not everyone, Fred told me I look like a gypsy, and if I removed the scarf I would be fine, but what does he know about hair color? Mr. Burgundy Curls himself.

Well, I should be getting it fixed this afternoon, though it rather defeats the purpose of doing it myself.

Signs That I Am Very Strange


I often contemplate my oddness, and at times, I even make myself laugh, but I can be so completely odd and random. The following is a list of things that some people think is very strange, some people don't know, and forever assures me I am unique and you have to love me for me, not what I am.

I have a red lipsick collection, I am in search of the perfect shade of red lipstick for every outfit, I am at nine shades and counting.

I like foods that are very, very bad for me. Like twizzlers, bugles and pringles. Not necessarily in that order.

I am obsessed with classic Hollywood glamour. Why can't I be Marilyn Monroe incarnate? My measurements are the same, where is the voice? And other such helpful details...

I am given to passionately shouting whenever I get excited. Oh yes! And I wave my arms, wildly.

I adore eating. And will never be thin again, deal with it.

And this list will be continued...

Cynical Sarah


I found out last night that Matt and Joy refer to me as "Cynical Sarah." Wimper!

I am crushed! Like a... crushable thing. Do they not realize, for the most part, my cynicalism is me being funny, or trying.

Anyway. I must try harder to be positive.



My lovely day revere has been ruined by Joy IMing me to tell me that we have to do the graduation fashion show.

This is the point where I would like to lay on the floor, kick my heels, flail my arms and generally throw a tantrum.

There are not words to describe the inexplicable horror and dread that now fills my stomach at the thought of having to spend a entire Sunday with modeling twits. Oh the horror, oh the dread, oh the sheer pain of it all!

I could cry, I really could.

Good Day


Today is going to be a good day. I have decided.

Even if it is drizzling outside, even if I am hungry, even if I am tired, even if my coffee is far too weak to keep me awake.

Because! I have cute hair, sort of. I have a very cute shirt on, that makes me look feminine and pink. I have a very yummy lunch awaiting me, thanks to Laura's delightful culinary skills. I do not have to listen to Joy whine about Matt's abscence, she will be with him tonight. I will pass this CLEP if it kills me, and unfortunately I don't think it will. And about a thousand other good things I think I could come up with.

Okay. The air has offically been taken out of my balloon. Someone just asked me "Are you okay?" To which I responded a perky "yes!" And they still didn't believe me.

I am fine! Maybe I just don't look so fine. Sigh.

Yes! Dad and Teresa will be gone all weekend, which means I do not have to get up at the ungodly hour of five on Friday, and that I can actually do something remonetly interesting this weekend. I was thinking of shopping in Annapolis with Brittany to restore that sacred bride/bridesmaid bond, but I am not sure. Maybe Stephanie and I will go. Maybe, I'll just sleep. Or study, perish the thought!

How To Frustrate Me


Instruct me to make chicken curry only to leave me to discover we have no curry in the middle of making it.



I worry myself sometimes. My control freakish tendencies are beginning to creep back into my habits.

Like a place for everything, labeling everything and constantly throwing things away.

I finially organized my email, labeling everything. Though it is a sight of beauty and wonder, it is a bit scary and freaksih. Maybe I should arrange my underwear alphabetically.

How To Annoy Me


Tell me that I have a really sexy voice and that phone sex with me would be great.

How Sarah Gets Her Revenge:
Fantasizes abour ripping the freak apart with her bare hands, all the time smiling professionally and gritting her teeth.

Mental Note:


Make sure you know the names of the people you are emailing and IMing, otherwise they become one big blur and you start mixing up your conversations. And thinking that the nice people are being annoying, when it is actually just the annoying person you were trying to avoid.

Ahem. Will try to remember in the future.

Ashamedly I Admit


I must meekly and ashamedly admit, that, well, erm, I forgot to vote today.

*hangs head, crawls under desk and sobs*

Well, not quite. Since it is the primaries, I won't feel dreadful. I was going to vote for Bill Lee, and he is going to win anyway, if he doesn't, then I will think about feeling bad.

Anyway. That is my confession. And, I will not be a bore like Usher and write a song about it, even though I think mine would be far more interesting than his. But of course, that is completely subjective.

Anyway! Don't forget to vote November 2!!

Loveless Rant


Found in my book of loveless rants that I write in whenever I breakup with someone:

"When you say "I can't explain it" in a relationship, it isn't mysterious love, it's incompatable."

Never A Dull Moment


As usual, Laura and Sarah had a riotous time while taking pictures in the downtown plaza.

First of all, I fixed my hair and did my makeup, only to put on sweatpants and a button-down shirt so I could trapse about without getting my costume dirty.

So, off we went to the Goodwill, in hunt of vintage dresses and anything else that might work. No such luck.

So we set off in the direction of the plaze, scouting out good picture spots. After this was accomplished, I wriggled into my dresses in the car, added MORE makeup, and by now my hair was a disaster, but I left it.

Ok, so Sarah is marching through the downtown plaza in a very cute vintage dress, high-high sandals and pearls. And, since the plaza has been opened for traffic, we were, of course, stopping traffic. Our excitement included perching on fiberglass rocks, dabbling our toes in slimy water, shouting out fake french words in hopes of making Laura look cool, and giving out directions to strangers.

Ok. Maybe we are easily amused. But a ritous time was had by all. Join us next time.

How Much Are You Worth?


I have just discovered that according to, I am worth approcimentally $2,220,942.00. Interesting. How would I go about putting myself on the market?

Flint was quite a interesting experience. As usual, training center life made me extremely grateful for my family and our incredible coolness factor. In plain and simple english, our family is, well, cool.

For example, while we were driving through Ohio, the Dye brothers invited us to drop by and crash on their couches if we got tired. Though they were slightly concerned what their parents would think in the morning, and Joy and I not wanting to jepordize Laura, decided to skip it. But I was thinking, if Dad woke up in the morning to see the temporary addition of more people to the household, he would be thrilled.


Life continues. And I have vowed to be the whiz kid, if at all possible. I want to knock these CLEP'S out like there is no tomorrow! This should be a busy ocming six months.

What I Think of Models


I do believe that models are some of the most stupid creatures to ever stumble the earth.

First of all, modeling is NOT what it is cracked up to be, but that is a different tirade for a different day.

Secondly, you don't have to be pretty! You just have to be God-awful thin and willing to stay that way even if it means eating away at your internal organs, looking like a STARVED skeleton and never eating more then 2.6 ounces of food in one sitting.

Thirdly, you have no job security. Who would be that stupid to have a occupation where if in the horrifying event that your hair fell out, you could not go back to work the next day.

Argh! I was perusing the pages of several different agencies, and frankly, I find it disgusting. Glorified twigs contorted into what are supposed to be sensual positions. And they all look the same, every last starved one of them.

And they are the most concieted bunch of people you will ever meet.



I love fall. I love the crisp edge to the air as you pull out your favorite sweaters and smell the burning leaves. Sadlly enough, as I eagerly pull out some very cute fall clothes, I realize fall comes very, very late in the year around here.

So, here I sit, dying of heat exhaustion in my very cute sweater.

In other news, I cannot wait for The Notebook, Walking Tall and Mean Girls to come out on dvd. (Ahem! All great birthday ideas.)

It just occured to me, Walking Tall was the first movie Zeke and I went to see together. Screw it! I am not letting him ruin a perfectly hour and a half of watching The Rock be very hot.

Amy and I have decided we want to live in DC together, I would offer her the benefits of hot guys, hair fixing abilities and makeup. She would offer me the benefits of knowing everyone. This could be quite fun. First I need a job in DC, and then I need a Mini-Cooper. (Hint, Hint)

In other news. I am still dying of heat exhaustion.

Another Birthday Idea


I would love one of Starbucks cute leather covered thermos's and a travel mug. Distinctive. Adorable. Me!

Death On A Cracker


Today is not a good day.

I feel like death on a cracker. Actually, deader than that.

I couldn't fall asleep last night, and the medication I took to ease my pain finially kicked in this morning, so now I am dizzy, queasy, nausious, light-headed and generally in pain. Oh yes, and I have a racing pulse.

Every phone ring, every copier whirr, every fax squeak, every last damned noise is driving me insane!

And I am very hungry because I can't hold down food. Very hungry. I want tea. And all we drink here is vile coffee.

Sob. Sob.

Woe is me!

Birthday List


My birthday is rapidly approching. One month and four days to be precise. I have decided to post a revised birthday list, and will continue to do so until my birthday.

1. Mini Cooper
Ok, you might be thinking "What a greedy woman!" But just in case any rich, long lost relatives are reading this, or someone who just thinks I am very cute and deserve a Mini-Cooper wants to give me one, I am letting them know in advance I would be quite greatful.

2. Handgun
I think this would be quite the novel gift. I think every girl should know how to defend herself, and it would be great to say I was... Shooting Barbie. Or something.

3. Laptop
It has just recently dawned upon me that a computer would be most helpful in my approaching education. Nothing fancy. Or for that matter, if we got high speed internet at the house, that would be quite a nice gift as well.

4. Leather Jacket
Leather jackets are so very classy. End of story.

Ok, that was my dreaming list, now on to things that I know my family would actually like to get me. (Seeings as adoring fans do not yet send birthday gifts.)

1. Music
Cd's by Creed, Tim McGraw's latest, Pink, bond and anything else I can think of between now and then.

2. Winter Coat
I really must get a new coat this year, and since I am being frugal, I shall ask for it for my birthday. Preferred color, black, preferred stylr peacoat.

3. Hair Cutting Scissors
I have this love of cutting people's hair. And I have been borrowing Iva's scissors for, forever. So, hair cutting scissors would be lovely. I think you could drag Iva along to help pick out good ones. Actually, any hair cutting stuff. Chair, cape, etc...

4. Pims and Tea for life!
I adore those cookies with the orange filling and Earl Grey tea. A lifetime, or school year, or whatever supply would be lovely.

5. Hair Straightener
One of the skinny kind. Go to Sally's. One of my sisters will get this for me I promise, so they can use it. Love it how that works. =)

If I can thinking of anything else, I'll tell you, trust me.

Female Friends


In books it is never this complicated.

Having girl friends is far more trouble than it is worth. I shall not at this point launch into how much easier it is to have sisters.

The pitiful text messages, the slighted phone calls, the reoccuring drama crap and all that jazz. Ok, maybe it isn't girl friends in general, just drama queens.

This is why I am trying to cease from being a drama queen.

I have a nauseating headache just thikning about this huge mess, and it will be even worse once I finially get it worked out.

Wardrobe Credits


I must give credit where credit is due, as usual, my sisters.

Where ever I go, whomever I meet and whatever I am doing, I am told that I am a fabulous dresser, and that I look lovely. I have my sisters to thank for this reputation.

Not only do they encourage me to dress classily yet fashionably, they selflessly pool their resources to create the best outfits possible. It was only this morning that Laura did a wardrobe check-up to see if I needed any new clothes before I left for a week, and Joy lent me her brand-new, never worn brooch to go smashingly with my outfit. See what I mean? Amazing!

As I speak, I think the only articles of clothing that I am wearing that I purchased are my underwear... and maybe not even them.

I must confess, I am not always the most grateful of sisters *hangs head shamefully* it was only this morning I was accusing Joy of shrinking my vintage black dress, and telling Laura that my scarf HAD to be longer or I would simply die!

So, the purpose of this post is two-fold, thank you Laura and Joy, thank you, thank you, thank you for everything you do. Beyond clothes and makeup, thank you for all the time and energy you invest in me.

And the other reason, if you don't have such fabulous sisters you can a) go buy some off the black market, but I hear they are rather expensive these days. Especially ones with good taste. b) I am offering my sisters for hire, as payment for the shrunken dress and anything else they ruined. They will go shopping with you and revamp your wardrobe and look, they will also be delightfully blunt and tell you what looks bad on you. They also come with such anemnities as stomachs that will tell you stories, cellulite comparison, and much more!

Contact me if your interested!

(Selling their numbers didn't work, nor did auctioning off dates with them, this is my way to pay for college.)

Life Is Short


Today I sit at my desk contemplating the vastness of eternity and the brevity of our human lives.

As a young person, it is so easy for me to fall into the mindset that "I have my whole life ahead of me!" But you only have ONE life, one life to accomplish great things. Look at the people who have changed our culture, they only had one life, and they had to dedicate it to hard work and perserverence.

Most people forget and fritter away the youthful and most productive years of their lives by having un. You only get those years once! Maximize them! Why do we act as if we are going to get a second chance at life?

It boggles my mind to see the life-altering decisions young people make, only to look back and wish they had thought it through, or heeded the advice of the older, sometimes wiser generation.

I believe in a generation of quick convenience, it has erased from our reality the permanence of eternity. It seems that their is a cure for everything, nothing is permanent, and everything can be dealth with. It has caused people to forget that eternity cannot be handled in such a flippant manner.

Each of us will stand before God to answer for every one of the decisions we made. Wheter sober or durnk, trivial or important. For that matter, there is no such thing as a trivial decision.

But this is something I have to continually remind myself, every day I choose how I will influence the world.

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.


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