Coup

Well, I think we all knew this was going to happen. If there is anything I've learned from watching blockbuster action flicks of the mediocre variety, it's that eventually robots are going to turn against us, kill most of us, and inhabit the earth. That's why I absolutely refuse to get a Roomba vacuum. I mean PLEASE--I know it seems innocent enough, but it's a slippery slope from there. First you're having a little disc guy vacuum your living room, then you're using Rosie from the Jetsons to make your breakfast (and the occasional hilarious joke), then you're getting bound into indentured slavery to the I, Robot bitches.

Not me.

I thought we had more time, though. However, when I was sitting in spin class yesterday, I noticed the "man" in front of me. I always check out the people in front of me...what else are you supposed to do when sweat is pouring out of your face at epic rates? But I paid specific attention to his left leg...it just wasn't flowing properly. It was kind of...clicking. Jerking around the wheel a little bit. I stared, perplexed, until suddenly I realized the truth--he was a robot. Obviously. And his designers were smart! He's really kind of plain looking (my first instinct if I was going to build a robot would be to make him super hot), didn't really say much, didn't appear to be too well-built...all of that to mask the fact that he could rip my face off in a matter of seconds.

Crafty.

So, throughout the rest of the class, I had some time to digest this information. The Robot Coup is much more imminent than I had realized. I'm not really one to try to rebel against this. That seems like a lot of effort, and I'm more of a go with the flow kind of gal. Instead, I'm proposing some tips on how to make nice and live with our new robot overlords.

1. Wear witty t-shirts, probably from snorgtees.com. Robots love a good witty remark.
2. When you're on your cell phone (because you know they're listening) try to talk up the droids--say how you think R2D2 is the best Star Wars character you know of, and that he was robbed in terms of screen time.
3. Try to emulate robots yourself, as best as you can. Always be dressed nicely, don't wear wrinkled clothes, smile a lot. Pretend your life is a Miss American pagaent. Wax the important areas...robots don't approve of unsightly body hair.
4. Walk the fine line between using your gadgets (iPod, GPS, etc) and taking them for granted. Don't drop your cell phone in the toilet. Don't hit your computer if it's being slow.
5. Always carry an oil can.

Good luck! xoxo

Job

Soooo...guess who has a new job! This will be a multiple choice question:

a. Our dog Hamlet--finally got his dream job of Mulch From The Yard Eater
b. The Noid--remember him? From Dominos? Avoid the Noid? He got hired by Pizza Hut to promote their wings.
c. Zach Morris--his ability to stop time by making a "T" with his hands has launched him into reality tv superstardom.
d. Me

If you guessed "d," then you win! Please see me at a later date to collect your prize. Just so you know, your prize is a hug.

After five and a half years (why does time move so quickly??) of working in Admissions at Penn State, I've been offered a job at Harrisburg Area Community College as their Coordinator of Student Life and Multicultural Affairs. I know what you're thinking, and yes...that DOES make me kind of a big deal. But honestly, it's a huge step up in terms of responsibility, SALARY, and awesomeness. I'm really excited to get started. My first day is January 4, and my new colleagues are already e-mailing and calling me with questions!

So, here's where this inevitably leads. I've said almost since I moved here that I wanted to move away. York wasn't nearly glamorous enough for me, there wasn't enough to do, the people didn't impress me...I had a nice little list of reasons to book it out of here. But here's the thing--it's kind of grown on me. I can easily get to Philly, Baltimore, DC, and NYC. Harrisburg, Lancaster, and York all have these great little hidden artsy areas with awesome local artists and businesses. And it's so cheap to live here! If I lived in NYC, like I've always said I wanted to do, I could never afford to DO anything! Living in York will afford me the opportunity to actually have money to spend. I can travel abroad. I can buy things. I can manage to feed my expensive tastes.

So apparently it turns out I'll be sticking around here, which is good. And also, in York, I stand out. People find me endlessly stylish, quirky, and savvy. I think I might blend in a little bit more in a bigger city, and I do NOT like doing that!

"The only rule is don't be boring and dress cute wherever you go. Life is too short to blend in."
Paris Hilton

Thankful

You know what? Life is awesome. Remember how I blogged at the beginning of the year about 2009 being the year of change? It seriously has been--in fact, I believe that in December I'll probably write a blog detailing the highlights of 2009. But for now, since it's Thanksgiving, and it's what you're supposed to do, I wanted to make a list of things I'm thankful for. Because there are a lot of them. And honestly...you should too. And then when you start getting yourself all worked up over something, tossed into a panic, getting into hypothetical arguments in your head (is that just me?) you can look back and remember that things are actually pretty ok.

I'm Thankful For (in random order):

1. AB--I've dated a lot of douchebags. I've also dated some really great guys, but there have been more than a few twats. And I had kind of figured that at some point I was going to have to lower my standards just a little bit, because no one was ever going to be able to fulfill all my expectations. Wrong. AB is exactly who I always hoped I'd find but never really thought I would. And all those people who said living with a boy was going to suck and be hard--what is WRONG with you?? It's awesome!

2. My family. This is pretty much a no-brainer. I have the best family I know of, and I've met a lot of families. They're fun, funny, adorable, and my best friends.

3. My hair. It's still amazing. I think sometimes I fear that it'll turn normal or plain, but that hasn't happened yet. GO GINGERS.

4. Hamlet. Ok, he can be a real asshole sometimes, but I have the cutest dog EVER. I dare you to try to find a cuter one. And while he makes me SO mad sometimes, I love him so much, and get so proud of him. Who would have thought that pooping outside would make me want to throw a party?

5. LA Fitness. Ohhh, how I adore thee. If I could wrap LA Fitness in a little bundle and put it in my pocket forever, I would. I'm throwing spin class on this one. I sometimes wish I could hug spin class.

6. 20% off coupons from Coach. Why didn't I sign up for their e-mail list earlier??

7. My rockin' house. Have you been to visit me yet? It rocks.

8. No hospital visits in over a year! I'm sure it was smart to say that...but after three several day long hospital stays in less than two years, I was starting to think that there were little terrorists living in my body trying to sabotage me. And maybe there WERE, but luckily my Belgian mafia badassness kicked them out.

9. Gmail. I love gmail. I should write a letter to Google, because it's fantastic.

10. Cruise to Mexico in December, New Orleans for New Year's, and Vegas in February! I promise to send you all postcards! I also feel like I should start investing in some SPF 45. I would rather not come back from any of those destinations looking like a tomato.

11. IKEA. The world seems better knowing that IKEA is in it.

12. Smoothies. I haven't had one in a really long time, but I could totally go for a pineapple-strawberry smoothie right now. My throat hurts. I'm not actually sure this should make the list, but I'd be really happy if one magically appeared.

13. My friends...I started to name them, but then realized I'd probably forget someone and they'd no longer be my friend. Although...if they stop being my friend based on a blog omission, I think I question the validity of our friendship! But you know who you are! The friends I've had forever, the ones I talk to all day via email and gchat (thanks gmail!), the new friends I've made over the past few months, the ones who send me postcards from all around the country, the ones who ALWAYS make me crack up laughing, the ones who totally would have my back if I ever get into a giant street fight...you get the idea!

I think this list could go on for awhile...so rather than ramble, I'm going to suggest that each of you go out and tell someone in your life that you're thankful for them being there. If you're reading this, you're either a friend of mine or a random internet stranger who has been stalking me...in either case, I'm thankful for you!

Trainers

So we all know that aside from AB, my one true love in life is my gym (oh, and my as yet hypothetical puppy). I heart LA Fitness. It's probably because I like LA and I also enjoy fitness. When I have to go out of town, I miss my gym more than I miss my friends (sorry friends...but I can text you while I'm gone--as yet, LA Fitness has refused to respond to any of my text messages.) I miss its laugh...I miss its musk. I miss the purple walls, the clean equipment, and especially the spinning classes, to which I have become officially addicted. I do not, however, miss the trainers.

In short, the trainers at my gym (and likely at any gym) are certified twats. Since it has not been confirmed that any of them are fully literate, I'm going to assume that none of them are reading this blog. But on the off chance that one of them somehow stumbles off of a gay porn site and onto my blog, I'm offering the following has helpful insights to increase their productivity.

1. Your giant muscles do not completely negate the fact that you have bad teeth/acne/an IQ that has dipped into negative numbers. Find a dentist. Have you heard of Proactiv? R-E-A-D something!

2. No matter how many times you try to tell me that investing an additional $80/month is a sound financial move, I do not want to hire you as my personal trainer. Please stop asking. I mean, come on. Play hard to get! By constantly approaching me while I am TRYING to work out, you are just making me want to kick you in the face.

3. Guys need fitness advice too. Even though the gender mix at my gym is probably 50/50, I've never seen a trainer approach a male client and offer some extra fitness advice. Go on--show them how to do it. Grasp their waist ever so gently. Wink at them.

4. The holy grail is not hidden down my shirt. Stop looking.

5. It's evident that in fitness trainer college (wait, what? They don't have that?) you learn how to spread your arms very wide and strut. It looks silly. You kind of look constipated.

6. You might want to talk to your plumber...as far as I know, most of us shower in water, not cheap cologne. Maybe just give them a call and ask if yours is malfunctioning!

7. If I have my iPod on, am obviously working hard at whatever exercise I'm doing, and absolutely refusing to make direct eye contact with you, it's not necessary to approach me. I'm doing fine, I promise.

8. You can tell me as many times as you want that the key to getting fit is free weights and that cardio is a waste of my time. Really? REALLY? Join me, won't you, for just one spinning class.

xoxo

Confession

I'm a fraud.

As I'm sure you all know (because I assume that your daily well-being hinges on being updated on my happenings), I'm in graduate school right now. I love the program I'm in, and I find myself constantly intellectually stimulated and challenged by my classmates, and I love that. It's swell, and they're honestly really cool people. Earlier this month, I spent two weeks at Goucher College, immersed in an intensive summer writing residency. It was a quirky juxtaposition of terribly draining and wonderfully energizing. It was also two weeks of being surrounded with completely brilliant, inspiring (albeit sometimes exhausting) writers. They love things like music, art, philosophy, big words, theoretical adventures, and asking just one more question at the end of a lecture. In many ways, I identified beautifully with them. In other ways, I did not.

What follows is my confession to my fellow graduate students. Please do not eject me from the program, throw rocks at my car, or smudge my lip gloss.

1. I would much rather read the latest issue of Cosmo than the latest issue of The New Yorker.
You hate me, don't you? But it's true. I am much more interested in giggling over first-time sex bloopers, having my most embarrassing beauty questions answered, or learning more ways to score a 6th consecutive orgasm than reading about Sotomayor's trials, the health-care debate, or a Russian road trip. I'M SORRY. I will be the first to criticize Cosmo's perpetuation of the horrible, mythical female ideology that exists in America. I know it's trash...but I still like to read it.

2. I don't listen to NPR.
Gasp. I don't like it. I've tried. The people have boring voices, and I just can't pay attention to them. I know I'm in the minority, and I'm aware that all self-respecting, liberal, hip people wake up and fall asleep to the sounds of NPR, but I just can't. AB listens to it all morning every weekend. During a lecture at school, one of our professors, Laura, was talking about her love of NPR. Let me explain...this woman is awesome. Laura Wexler is not cool. Cool is Laura Wexler. I digress--she mentioned that her alarm in the morning was set to NPR, so that's what she woke up to. Everyone chucked that "Oh yes, so do I" all-inclusive chuckle. I looked around, certain that I had some kind of heathen mark flashing above me. Stupid NPR.

3. I like listening to Britney Spears.
She's catchy. She's a beautiful disaster. She Did It Again.

4. Harry Potter rules.
He does. The past decade has given us some phenomenal literature. But J.K. Rowling made billions of people care so much about the fate of a fictional little boy that on the day it was released it sold a record-breaking 8.3 million copies. IN ONE DAY. I should know. I was there, with my friends at midnight, costumed in our homemade Harry Potter attire. I will probably read the entire Harry Potter series 10 or more times in my life. I will probably read Angela's Ashes one or two more times...although I love that book. My hypothetical children will be debating the virtue of Severus Snape as they put on their pajamas and settle in for storytime at night.

5. I generally have no idea what I'm doing.
I sometimes try to guess! But the truth is that I just love to write, and I actually feel like I'm pretty good at it (most days.) But as a rule, I'm kind of just bumbling along, trying to meet deadlines and not make a complete literary ass out of myself. Just a girl who sometimes likes to play in bathtubs at parties with her friends.


xoxo

Christine

Perhaps you have noticed that I haven't posted a new blog in quite some time. I suck, admittedly. In my defense, I've been immersed in an extremely intensive graduate program for the past two weeks, and hopefully will be able to apply some of what I'm learning to making this blog extra fun and awesome.

Or perhaps you haven't even noticed my blogtastic absence, in which case we need to sit down and have a serious discussion about your priorities.

In any case, my amazingly talented friend Christine has generously stepped up to save my online ass, and has written a witty, handy, practical blog that speaks on a multigenerational level. Please look for at least two blogs of my own next week (one about the surprising and beautiful simplicity of living with AB and another that will be a virtual confessional to my grad school colleagues), but until then, what follows is all Christine:

Wardrobe Professionalism: A Brief Guide to Faking It.

You can’t deny it: we’ve all had a shitty morning (or in some cases 5,284 shitty mornings) that we can blame on a number of circumstances such as: staying up too late talking to a friend on the west coast, drinking too much, general insomnia, closing down a gay bar with a karaoke rendition of Baby Got Back, accidentally sleeping with the TV and lights on, the extended release aspect of your Adderall refusing to stop releasing, forgetting to change your BlackBerry to silent mode causing it to violently vibrate on the nightstand when Saks randomly sends a late night email, deciding that listening to Britney Spears and Coldplay repeatedly at 3am is the cure for insomnia, Benadryl, staying up late because you just HAD to watch a rerun of Nancy Grace, taking the red-eye from Vegas and failing to schedule off work the day of your arrival, the alarm forgot to beep… you know the deal.

Ladies, let’s assess the situation: you have 20 minutes to look normal and don’t know where to begin. Here are some simple suggestions that will make these mornings seem less like giant case of armageddon:

• Pretend the Guinness Book of World Records is timing you for the fastest shower record. Everything is easier when you are clean. You cannot go wrong with a ponytail as long as it looks like it’s been brushed, straightened, or attended to with some other kind of minimal grooming… a 1875 watt hair dryer and a bit of product are handy at this stage of the process.
• Invest: You are employed and need to appear professional at your place of employment, so one would assume that you’ve managed to attain a level of responsibility that would involve you participating in some kind investment activity such as stocks, mutual funds… Well forget about that business because we’re focusing solely on looks in this brief guide. Invest in CLOTHING. If you work in an office environment and occasionally need to appear particularly professional, you absolutely must begin stockpiling blouses and dresses by Diane von Furstenberg. I don’t care if you lost every penny you own when the economy crashed or you are simply a shitty poker player. Put money in a piggy bank, wait for a sale at Nordstrom, toss some adult guilt in the direction of your parents so they pay, sell yourself on Craigslist…whatever it takes. Sure Diane von Furstenberg can sometimes be on the expensive end of the blouse industry but it’s worth the money - appropriate, classy, classic, dressy, flattering, consistent, stylish and most importantly easy. Next to your stockpile of Diane Von Furstenberg blouses there should be another stockpile of dressy, knee-length pencil skirts. Essential colors: dark denim (no stitched seams) and black. You need multiples of these colors because they will match every Diane Von Furstenberg blouse you own. Choosing an outfit will now only take 30 seconds of your life and will be successful regardless of your state of consciousness.
• Shoes with high heels are a vital part of this occasion. Bare feet are for pedicures, flip flops are for the beach and plastic is for working the pole at a strip club. These things have nothing to do with your morning so they should also have nothing to do with your choice of footwear. Owning several pair of ‘comfortable’ black heels and ‘comfortable’ fancy heels in fun colors are imperative. The litmus test for comfortability: the ability to run in aforementioned shoes regardless of obstacles including, but not limited to, brick sidewalks, blisters, stairs, etc. These shoes should be stored in an easily accessible area of your closet….now grab a pair and put them on your feet.
• Accessorize: Always keep a pair of earrings and matching bracelet in your purse or desk (or both) and sunglasses in your car. I recommend sunglasses of the large, dark variety. Morning people never forget to accessorize…and now neither will you.
• Side Note: In case you are having a bad morning and you are also completely incompetent, do not forget normal activities such as: brushing your teeth, wearing panties and a bra under your clothes, deodorant, perfume…

In conclusion, practice makes perfect. Practice also makes for numerous late nights and stressful mornings. You can decide whether or not that’s your thing. Now if only you didn’t have 8 minutes to battle traffic in an anxiety-ridden quest to reach an office, it would be the perfect time for a bloody Mary.

Bitches

We all know a few. Probably more than a few, actually. Come to think of it, I know for a fact that several of you who are currently reading this are, in fact, bitches yourself. Not only are you bitches, but somewhere deep in the core of your soul, you're proud to be bitches. Maybe you even have little refrigerator magnets to celebrate your bitchiness. Don't worry. I'm not writing this to condemn you. Instead, I am writing this in the hopes of joining your evil legions.

I think my conversion idealism was brought on by a recent ongoing encounter that I've been having with a particular bitch. I'm not going to go into details, but suffice to say that I have been feeling continuously powerless against this person, and it's making me realize that I need to up my bitch quotient. Not to the point where I start terrorizing my friends and family, but to the point where I can better stand up to them when I need to.

I feel like I need some kind of a plan. Otherwise, my increasing frustration is going to erupt like a McDonald's employee's face. It's already started to happen...I was listening to a heated conversation between my mom and my aunt, and I apparently decided I needed to involve myself. I calmly began to lay out my points (which, I may add, were quite valid) and my aunt (who is the sweetest woman on the planet) kept interrupting me with "Now, Sara, no..." and finally I just turned and shrieked at her, "STOP INTERRUPTING ME! You're not allowed to just interrupt me!"

Silence.

Unsure about how to proceed following my outburst, I simply stomped back to the couch and pretended to fall asleep. But...the lesson? About ten minutes later, she came over to me, hugged me, and apologized for interrupting me. You see? Bitches might be bitchy, but people don't mess with them. In fact, once someone has developed a reputation for bitchiness, people go out of their way to avoid upsetting them. No one goes out of their way to avoid upsetting nice people! They're too nice!

I've developed a preliminary do and don't list for embarking on the bitch train. I welcome suggestions.

Do:
1. Snap at people occasionally for minor offenses. This will let them know that you will not put up with their more serious offenses.
2. Be hypersensitive to the way you are being treated. Do you feel like an injustice has occured? It probably has. You should probably yell about it.
3. Stomp. A lot.
4. Be extraordinarily nice to people sometimes. Make them love you enough that they want to keep you around despite your newfound bitchiness. Buy gifts for people.

Don't
1. Slap a ho. While funny, this is apparently a good way to land yourself in jail.
2. Tell people you're a bitch. SHOW THEM.
3. Purchase any kind of glitter graphic t-shirt proclaiming that you are a bitch.
4. Hit below the belt. You probably can come up with lots of mean things to say to people. Don't say them. You don't need to be mean to be a bitch.
5. Go overboard. Your tantrums need to be well-timed and properly executed. Doing it too much will take away some of the power.

Home

So, I did it. I am currently successfully cohabitating with AB. We moved just over two weeks ago, and thus far, no one has suffered any extreme injury/death/medical malady because of this new phenomenon. In fact, it's kind of awesome. Also, our house is f-ing AMAZING. It's huge. I mean seriously...huge. The pictures I'm putting here don't even begin to do it justice. It's all giant and beautiful and I'm completely in love with it and basically never want to go anywhere. I just want to stay home and make sweet sweet love to our new house. Anyway...I have received TONS of questions about the new place/living situation from my public, so I have selected some of the most common ones to use here for a brief Q&A regarding the new house. If it would make things more authentic, please envision me in a hot little black dress from BCBG with bright turquoise heels, sitting on Conan's couch, sipping out of a coffee mug that is actually filled with 1% Organic Chocolate milk.

Q: Sara, first of all, congratulations on your awesome hair. But secondarily, I recall that you've never lived with anyone before. How are you holding up?
A: Oh, thanks for asking. Yes, my hair rocks. But I actually kind of love it. I think that's probably because I love HIM. I still maintain that I would hate having 99.996% of the population as a roommate. People are exhausting. But it's fun having him there. It's weird getting used to someone else always being around, but it's enjoyable. Also, he goes to Central Market on weekends and gets fresh fruit and makes me fruit salad.

Q: What is your favorite part about your new house?
A: Probably my bedroom. If you haven't seen it, you should make a point to visit. But call first.

Q: I haven't seen the place yet! When can I do that?
A: Well, our housewarming party is coming up in July. However, if you're not very cool, you're not going to be invited. You'll have to schedule a different viewing of the house.

Q: Does AB love living with you?
A: What a retarded question. Duh.

Q: Exactly how big IS this castle of a townhouse?
A: F-ing HUGE, to be precise. 3 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms (one with a Jacuzzi tub), living room, kitchen, dining area, study, garage, laundry room, basement...seriously. F-ing huge.

That's just about all the time I have for questions at this time...but if you have any others, feel free to leave them as comments OR to send them to me via e-mail.

xoxo

Goodbye

Here's a fun new game for everyone to play. You know how you go to a party, you've had your fun, and you're ready to leave? You start making the rounds of goodbyes, which are inevitably treacherous. "What? You're leaving? Don't leave!" or "Wait, no, you have to just stay until some very exciting and extraordinary event happens," or "Ok, but let me drunkenly hug you and profess my undying love and eternal devotion to our friendship that began when we met earlier tonight and discovered our mutual obsession with Lost." It's awful. Once you've waded through the murky swamp of saying goodbye to other guests, you finally have to say goodbye to the hosts. Think level 8 of Super Mario Brothers (the original, puh-lease) when Mario finally makes his way through the flying fish, the labyrinth, the flame throwing monkey, and finally comes face to face with Bowser. The hosts never want you to leave. I think they're afraid that your departure will start a trickle effect, and soon their party will be empty and lame. And to be honest, it probably will be once you leave. You're kind of a big deal.

Anyway, by the time you actually get OUT of there, it's 45 minutes past the time when you originally wanted to leave. And I find that annoying. So, for the past year or so, I've adopted a new MO. I just leave. I don't say goodbye to anyone, I don't make eye contact on the way out the door. I just wait for the moment when I can stealthily sneak out the door, and I bolt. I know this sounds easy, but trust me--it takes a certain level of planning and skill. I feel a little bit like James Bond. So, as a public service, I've decided to provide all of you with the skills you'll need to make your great escape.

1. You need to pay attention to your instinct. Once you feel like you no longer want to be there, don't wait. Start your escape plan immediately. You have approximately 30 minutes from this initial spark to make your move.
2. It is VERY important that no one senses that you are about to leave. Up until the very second that you fly out of there, you need to make lively conversation, laugh, continue eating the food, etc. In fact, you should even make plans with someone for later in the party. Like, "Oh my gosh, wait until Jane gets wasted, I'll show you the funniest thing that she does!" Magicians call this misdirection.
3. While you're misdirecting the other guests, you need to prep for your departure. If you have a coat somewhere, this can be tricky. If you've come with someone, you need to decide if they are coming with you or if you're just going to chalk them up to a party casualty. Planning is essential.
4. Pretending to be drunk can also work. Some of us have a tendency to wander off when intoxicated, thereby ensuring that at least initially, no one will notice your absence. They'll just assume you've wandered.
5. Once you're ready to go...just GO. Don't wait. Make a quick, direct, clear line for the exit. Do not make eye contact with other guests. Do not appear suspicious. Just go.
6. If someone catches you, chances are, you're screwed. However, with careful planning, not all is lost. Have a repertoire of excuses ready. Do not pause when spitting one of these out. It can NOT be lame. Don't say that you're tired or that you have to work early. No one cares. If you're busted and you're going to lie, at least make it creative and a good one. Something involving an explosion or an epidemic might be good. You can also simply state that you're running to your car for something or that you're looking for someone else. Do not back down and return to the party.
7. Chances are, no one will really notice that you've left. This is why I do this. If you say goodbye to everyone, then you've made quite the spectacle. This way, the party goes on flawlessly. You're really doing everyone a favor. The next day, make sure to have it known what a great time you had.

Try it. Don't mess it up. And let me know how it goes. Most importantly, don't be offended if at your next party I'm suddenly missing. It is not a reflection on you, your party, or anything other than my short attention span.

xoxo

Shorts

Alright, I love summer as much as the next girl--possibly even MORE than the next girl, depending on who that girl is. However, as soon the temperature starts to creep up, so do the hems on people's pants. I am, of course, referring to The Arrival of the Shorts.

Shorts can be really cute. SOMETIMES. They can also be the most horrific sight one is likely to encounter on a hot summer day. On principle, I very rarely wear shorts. I have no qualms about wearing very short skirts. Those are usually adorable. But there is a thin line between "Those are cute!" Shorts and "What in God's name was she THINKING!?" Shorts. I do not wish to tread that line.

Already this year, I have been the visual victim of many shorts infractions. Seriously, I feel like my eyes have been raped. So, for the good of all humanity, I have compiled what is surely only a partial list of rules for wearing shorts. Please pay it heed...and if you're reading one of these and thinking to yourself, "But I look GOOD when I do that," I fear I am too late to help you. You have fallen victim to the Shorts Epidemic.

How Not to Be a Shorts Rapist:
by Sara

1. At the gym, there are two girls. They always work out together, they have matching side ponytails, and are somewhere between eleven and thirteen years old. They're cute. They are also CHILDREN. But every day, they both come in wearing "shorts" that would more accurately be defined as boy-cut underwear. They're tight, tiny, colorful little one-inch pieces of cloth that do not even cover their entire butts. Seriously. There is cheekage. This is not ok, no matter how cute, tan, young, old, thin, muscular, or exhibitionistic you might be. This could probably be more beneficial in a "How to Get Gang Banged in the Parking Lot of the Gym" list.

2. This is designed specifically for the gentlemen. I know that Umbros are cool. Or at least, they WERE cool in 1993. However, if you opt to wear them (or shorts with any other silkish material) please, please PLEASE wear underwear. Why? Because we can see your junk. Every little wrinkle, every little vein. And while everyone enjoys an unexpected penis sighting, this is not going to do wonders for your popularity. Additionally, if you are wearing swim trunks as shorts, and thereby not wearing underwear, please do not sit with your legs spread. Your little soldier will try to escape, and unbeknownst to you, dangle out the side.

3. The 80's, tragically, have ended. If the button on your shorts is anywhere over your bellybutton, please remove them from your list of possessions. Even if you have the behind of an Ass God/Goddess, you'll get Mom Butt. You know what I mean.

4. So you've avoided all of the above pitfalls. You ran out to your favorite trendy little store, and purchased a perfectly acceptable pair of shorts. You rush home, slide them on, lay down on your bed to snap them shut, and start to strut your "I have hot shorts" strut down the street. If the insides of the shorts keep rising up...like between your thighs, so that there is an upside down letter V of shorts material pointing directly at your crotch...go back and get a bigger size. Seriously. No one will know.

5. Finally, this is one I learned last year, the hard way, when I was determined that a pair of cute white shorts from Banana Republic would be JUST what I needed to complete my summer wardrobe. If you are pale...like REALLY pale...white shorts are not ok for you. Your porcelain goddess skin will not be admired and appreciated. It will be mocked. As a side note, I never did purchase them...I just stared longingly at them from afar.

You're welcome.

xoxo

Jubilation

Every year, around September, my senses awaken. I feel a quickening of my pulse, a tingling in my toes. Suddenly, colors are brighter, flowers bloom more beautifully, and there is music in the air. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. The beginning of candy corn season. One day, just when you'd almost forgotten about this delectable taste bud adventure, you're wandering the aisles of your local grocery store, and there it is. Bags upon bags of orgasmic sugary delight.

Yes. This is a blog about candy corn. If you've got beef with that, then you've got beef with me, and I'll meet you by the bike rack after school with my fists and some brass knuckles.

The problem with the corn? Once Halloween is over, it disappears! No more candy pumpkins. No more yellow and orange happiness. It's like when you're seven, and the day after Christmas finally comes...you look around amidst the boxes and ribbons and new toys...the day you've waited for ALL YEAR has finally come and gone, and you stare blankly at the destruction in your living room, and you just have to ask yourself, "What the fuck?" It's disheartening.

And so I spend the rest of the year in a state of despair. Sure, there are other things to keep my mouth happy...actually, let's not go into that. But it's just not the same.

However, this year, in February, I was at the store picking up some groceries, when I meandered into the horrifically red section, identifying the Valentine's Day candy. I think I could sense it before I saw it--a round tin full of red and pink candy corn. Naturally my first instinct was to grab all that I could carry and rush out of the store. I contained myself. I bought like 2 containers.

So once I realized that other holidays are breaking into the candy corn monopoly, I've obviously spent the past two months trying to find Easter candy corn. Just when I'd given up hope, AB and I were at Giant, and there it was. Bags upon bags of beautiful pastel heaven. I obviously bought it, but I had to give the bag to AB to monitor my candy corn consumption...I'm a little bit like Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I'd just keep eating more, and I would not look attractive as a giant, triangular piece of sugar. I swear to God, if I could stick a tuxedo and top hat on a piece of candy corn, I'd be tempted to marry it.

I was so excited about my find that I had to start a conversation about it at a party this weekend. I brought some into work. I think I've told everyone I've seen about the Easter candy corn. My co-workers came in this morning to sample it, and we've concluded that it tastes creamier and softer than regular candy corn. We think it's because pink, purple, and yellow are creamier colors.

But now I'm panic-stricken. What holiday could possibly be coming up where they'll make more candy corn?? The Fourth of July? I mean, I'd eat it, but I think red, white, and blue candy corn would just be silly.

I clearly have a problem. Please do not encourage this obsession in any way.

Hatred

Ok, you all know the show 7th Heaven, right? You've definitely seen it. Reverend Camden with his bitchwife Annie and their passel of children, pets, and random stragglers who are invited into their home and indoctrinated with important family values and lessons?

I hate this show. I hate every single one of the characters. If it was possible to have negative respect for something, that is the amount of respect I have for the writing, acting, plot lines, and character development. AB and I tried to discuss who we hated the most on that show, but the conversation just lapsed into stunned silence, because it's an impossible question. It would be like trying to count to infinity (although I hear Chuck Norris counted to infinity--twice.) I asked him if he was forced to blow up one of the Camdens who he would choose, and he just shook his head in befuddlement and said, "Can't...too many." I think though, if I really had to, I could narrow it down to Lucy or Ruthie. I just stare at my television screen and can feel liquid hatred fill my eyes.

None of that is very interesting. We all have television shows that we hate. But the trick is that I can NOT stop watching this show. In fact, I seek it out! When I go home over lunch, I immediately turn to the Hallmark channel (which is just bullshit in and of itself...they make cards, not television shows) and know that I will see a gruesome explosion of hugs, bad acting, and important morals. And I do it. Every single day. And then I drive back to work, singing the theme song and marvelling at the atrocity.

Do you think this is what heroin addicts feel like? And if you were to choose a Camden to throw into a river full of snapping alligators and electric eels, who would you choose?

Unicorns

Before reading the rest of this blog, please take the next two minutes and fifty-four seconds to view the following extremely relevant and important video.



Ok seriously, who doesn't want to go to Planet Unicorn? I mean HONESTLY! My favorite unicorn is Cadillac. He has a bouffant, but his little unicorn horn pokes out just enough to be stylish yet subtle.

I would like to teach a college course entitled The Existential and Spiritual Dilemma of Planet Unicorn: A Colloquium. There are six installments of this series, and there are fifteen weeks in a semester. My only fear would be that there is just too much material to really do it justice. But I would try. To give you a sampling of what my course might look like, I've created a mock syllabus for the first few weeks. Naturally, since you haven't seen the other five episodes, (which I really encourage you to watch as soon as you possibly can) this mockabus (mock syllabus, duh) only covers the portion of the class that would be devoted to episode one.

I'm going to assume that my class meets thrice per week.

Assignment One: Relate Shannon, the eight year old gay boy, to the Classic Hero Structure that can be applied to all literature. Why did he wish for a fur jacket? What does that represent? What struggles inherently lie within Shannon that are evidenced by his desire for a flying car? Spiritually, where will this car take him?

Assignment Two: Ambrosia. Feathers, Cadillac, and Tom Cruise are intially seen eating ambrosia salad. Ambrosia (as you obviously know) is classically the food/drink of the gods. Is this foreshadowing? Describe the ethnocentricity revealed by the lack of cherries in Feathers' salad compared to the abundance of cherries in Cadillac's salad.

Assignment Three:
The unicorns have a strong desire to nap and cuddle. However, once napping they dream the same dream of Shannon, the gay boy who wished them into existence. Find two partners, and nap and cuddle for the rest of this class period. Try to dream the same dream.

Assignment Four:
Using paper mache, pipe cleaners, glitter glue, and plastic fruit to construct a model representing Unicorn Falls and what you learned about pouring brown paint into pink waterfalls.

I need to take this to my Director of Academic Affairs.

xoxo

Moving

Breaking news. AB and I are moving in together. If you aren't already in possession of this information, and if you know me at all, I'm going to go ahead and give you some time to pick your jaw up off of the floor and collect yourself.

(you could also use this time to grab a snack or ponder a mystery of life...like why it's acceptable to wear jeans with anything. Jeans are BLUE, and the color blue does not match everything.)

Ok, I'm going to assume that we're all good now. So yes. We're moving in together. We found the most adorable townhouse in Hellam. It has three bedrooms (including a master bedroom with vaulted ceilings, a ceiling fan, and a huge walk-in closet, which was kind of prerequisite for me) two and a half bathrooms (one of which has a jacuzzi tub) a living room (with a remote-controlled fireplace) big open kitchen, deck, finished basement, washer and dryer...it's completely awesome. My little OCD-crazed brain is already whipping out lists of things to buy and ways to decorate, and we don't even move in until June 1.

I've been living by myself for the past 5 years. Prior to that, any attempt I have made to cohabitate with anyone has been a catastrophe the likes of Mariah Carey attempting to act. So I have my concerns. AB, luckily, is one of the most laid-back people I've ever met, and seems completely prepared to handle the fact that I'm probably going to panic and lose my mind over this at least twice before we actually move. But in order to catch any of that before it happens, I have decided to track some of the thoughts I'm having about the whole situation!


Thoughts I'm having and general philosophical meanderings:

1. AB and I already spend just about every night together. On the days that we don't see each other, I miss him. In every single other relationship I've ever had, we either didn't see each other nearly that often, or if we did I was so happy and relieved to be left alone...or in the case of my last relationship, it was both!

2. We have now gone away together twice...once to the beach in Ocean City, and just last week to Florida for 5 days. Both times we've been together continuously for several straight days, and I didn't get annoyed with him. I have only ever had one or two FRIENDS even that I don't get annoyed with after a few days.

3. Norman Bates is completely correct that we all go a little mad sometimes. He was NOT correct in dressing up like his mother and killing people in showers. I digress. But I've gotten very used to having my own space and my own ways of dealing with things when I go a little crazy. However, AB has thus far done a very good job of handling me when that happens.

4. I will dance around in my underwear at least once a week. AB assures me this will actually NOT be an issue, and has encouraged me to do this even more.

5. We have yet to have a fight of any kind. On one hand, living together might make our first fight tricky because we're kind of stuck together then. On the other hand, it might be a good experiment and force us to work it out.

6. One of my most favorite things about AB is the fact that he talks. Like, we talk all the time about pretty much everything, and I feel like we're on the same page about things.

7. I have spent the past five years making my current townhouse as "mine" as I can. When people walk in, they're usually like, "This place is SO Sara." I fully approve of AB's decorative tastes based on his current apartment, but I'm worried I'm going to have a hard time compromising on that.

By the way, if any of you reading this would like to make yourself available to help me move that weekend, please know that I will provide you with beverages, snacks, and positive verbal reinforcement. Moving blows. That's why I haven't done it in awhile. But I'm super excited!

Old...ish

This just in: suddenly (or not really suddenly at all, actually) I am about six months shy of my 29th birthday. That birthday marks my last year as a twenty-something! I'm not going to panic about this, (although I did find a wrinkle about a year ago, which I convinced myself was an optical illusion but is somehow STILL THERE) because I've heard from numerous reliable sources that it's way more fun to be in your thirties than it is to be in your twenties. Also, all empirical evidence that I have gathered supports this. Life IS getting better the older I get. I have more money, I can do more things and go more places, I have the most awesome boyfriend (AB) ever, I have a stable job, I'm in graduate school...things are good.

A little while ago, I stumbled across a journal I used to keep in college. This journal was less of a "Dear Diary" secret keeper and more of a place for me to write down random thoughts I had, interesting things people said, and to make lists because list-making ranks pretty high in the "I'm a Closet Geek for Loving This" Olympics. It's right up there with Star Wars, crossword puzzles, Harry Potter, and cleaning my house. For instance, in college when I was in a completely lovesick state over a boy (who had beautiful brown eyes but was otherwise utter rubbish) I decided to write a list of 100 things that I loved about life that did NOT involve him. It reminded me that as much as my heart (and other, more inappropriate areas) fluttered when I saw him, the sun did not actually rise and fall based on his whereabouts.

So in said journal, I also stumbled across a list of things that I wanted to accomplish before I turned 30. At the time, apparently 30 seemed like it was REALLY far away, and I also apparently thought I'd have limitless resources and time in which to accomplish these things. I would now like to update you all (because you clearly are intensely interested) on the status of these goals.

Live in London
I think I'm going to need to accept that this just isn't going to happen, nor do I really think it's a good idea. London is far away. And I don't know for sure that they show Lost there.
Be in a movie
Unless home videos count, I'm no closer to this one either. As of now, I decree that home videos DO count, unless anyone reading this wants to toss me in a movie.
Go skydiving
If I am to believe AB, we are totally doing this, even though he has a huge fear of the skydiving instructor getting a boner while catapulting through the air, thus rendering his skydiving experience tainted and horrifying. I, on the other hand, would be endlessly amused if his skydiving instructor got a boner.
Write the next great American novel
Hm. I'm midway through two of them. Really, all I need to do is slap "The End" on one of them. I'll call it a mysterious, artistic choice.
Go on a shopping spree in NYC
If I want to do this in style, I'm going to need my own fun and flirty soundtrack. So until I find a small symphony to go to the city, I'm out of luck. However, I guess the word "spree" is up for interpretation. I've definitely gone to NYC and spent way more money than I was supposed to.
Live in NYC
Clearly as a college student I thought I was going to be much more metropolitan and nomadic than I actually am. I was offered a job in NYC last year and turned it down. I'm totally counting that.
Go on a cruise
I was SO close! I think this is still within reach. AB knows many things about cruises. I'm either relying on him or getting a job as a call girl who specializes in cruise captains.
Go to grad school
HA! Done.
Take a cooking class
I have no idea why I thought this was a good idea.
Buy something from Tiffany's
Done. I rule.
Go to Greece
Greece seemed very chic at the time. I do however, have plans to go to Ireland with AB for our 30th birthdays.
Learn another language
Thanks to two boys I've met in the past few years, I've learned how to speak Asshole pretty well. Otherwise, I should probably get to work on this little project.
Learn how to crochet/knit
Alright, I have tried this. My hands just will not cooperate. Too many loops and there's yarn, which is just complicated.
Learn a martial art
Oh, I had forgotten about this. It goes along with my desire to be even more of a badass than I already am. This is so possible.
Perform on Broadway
Well, no.
Be on The Price is Right
I consider this goal null and void now that Bob Barker is no longer hosting this show. I mean honestly, Drew Carey? What fun is Plinko with that man? I bet he doesn't even care if you get your pets spayed or neutered.
Ride in a hot air balloon
Franny and I had tickets to do this last year. I believe the weather got in the way. We should probably try that again.
Learn how to drive stick shift
Still a good idea. I don't know for sure why I was so determined to do this, but I do think it's wise. Again, I think driving stick would really increase my badass quotient.
Kiss a stranger
Um...it would appear that in my despair over not being able to accomplish all of my goals, I decided to accomplish this one hundreds and hundreds of time to make up for it.

Soooo, it looks like I have a really busy year and a half ahead of me. And that's not even counting all the new stuff I've thought of that I want to accomplish in the next few years! I wonder why I had to go and be all lofty and ambitious, and couldn't have listed anything practical (like buying a fun new car.) Although "practical" isn't usually in the grab bag of adjectives that describes me, now is it?