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The Terrible Plane Passenger

22 Feb

I hope this doesn’t come off as rude or offensive, but it’s my blog and I can be honest here and say that there are just some people in this world that I would rather not sit next to on a plane.  Does this make me a bad person?  No.  Does this make me think anything less of those people?  Absolutely not! after all I’ve been that person (story to follow)…. but given the option I can guarantee that you’re not going to be the one to volunteer to take the middle seat inbetween the sweet precious tantrum baby and the [I’m sure, very] friendly man with the absolutely horrendous BO.  Amiright?!

That being said, I’ve taken the liberty of creating….

The World’s Best Worst Airplane Seating Chart:

plane seating chart

Isn’t this what it always feels like every time you fly!?

*Honorable mentions go to The Mean Parent, Over-Sized Dreads Guy, The Won’t Pull Down The Shade When The Sun Is Beaming In Your Face Kid, Everyone’s BFF (not to be confused with the Jokester or Oversharer), The Flight Attendant Brown Noser and last but not least… The Cougher.
**My personal favorite is The Panicked Flier… I once sat next to a woman that insisted that I walk up and down the aisle with her before take-off to physically touch/count every aisle seat on the way to the emergency exit in case it was too smokey to see when the plane went down.  She also wore nylon socks because the material is less flammable than cotton….?  Because when the plane goes up in flames heaven forbid my socks catch on fire.  I wish I could make this stuff up, but alas.. true story.

I got to go to back to Abilene for Sing Song and an unofficial friend reunion of sorts this past weekend… it was my first time going to Sing Song since since I was in it FIVE YEARS AGO.  I’ve learned there are two things in this world that make you feel old: 1 – 5 year reunions of any variety and 2 – your hands being sore from playing skee ball (yes, I experienced both this weekend).

It was seriously sooooo great to catch up with old friends, professors, go to Friday praise chapel on campus (tears!), hangout with the fam, hangout with Granny and friends at her ‘retirement village’ … all in all awesome.  So awesome in fact that I got a total of six hours sleep between Thursday night and Friday night, and 45 minutes of sleep Saturday… My flight was out of Dallas at 830a Sunday morning so my friend and I woke up at 5a to drive to DFW so I could catch my flight.  Have I mentioned that girl is a saint?

We struuuuuuuuggled to stay awake on our three hour drive but any attempt at remaining coherent was completely useless.  She stayed awake by driving 95 MPH (God bless Texas highways) with her hand out the sunroof and/or grabbing ice from her Whataburger cup to rub on her face.  I don’t know how I stayed awake because I pretty much just stared straight ahead and tried to keep up conversation as we watched the sunrise.

you try staying awake driving through three hours of THIS!

you try staying awake driving through three hours of THIS!

In the last hour of the ride delirium started kicking in and I somehow convinced myself that I had forgotten to purchase my return flight.  I spent the next 40 minutes on the phone with various airlines asking if they had a reservation for me, only to realize that I was flying on the same airline as I flew in on because I had in fact bought a round trip ticket… (shocking, I know).  I also discovered while waiting in the security line at the airport that I had lost my phone… only to realize a full 24 hours later that I had put in my wallet (where I always keep it); nevermind the fact that I opened my wallet to get my ID out, put my ID away, get my debit card out and put my debit card away in that 24-hour time frame. That’s four accounts of quite literally touching my phone and having no idea where I had left it.  I made it through security and went to my gate… well, the wrong gate.  After standing in line to board a flight to Philadelphia for 12 minutes I realized I was at gate 38 and my ticket said gate 28.  2’s and 3’s look pretty similar….  (just go with it).

After that crazy fiasco of a morning, I somehow managed to make it on the correct plane and sat down in the correct seat.  Let’s call this a win.  Little did the guy next to me know what was in store for him.

I made absolutely no attempt to be friendly and I think the frazzled hair, 24-hour old makeup and disheveled yoga pants + hoodie fashion statement was enough to keep me from finding my new best friend for the next three hours.  Needless to say, I was left alone and passed out as soon as I heard the flight attendant say “San Diego.”  Aaaaaaaaand we’re off!

I have no idea how far along into the flight we were or how long I had been asleep… but I was startled awake by the man sitting next to me.  Why you ask?  Oh only because


I like to think I looked something like this....

I like to think I looked something like this….

this is probably a little more realistic...

this is probably a little more realistic…


I kid you not, my head was turned all the way to my left facing upwards, mouth gaping open, breathing and SNORING less than four inches from this poor man’s face.  It had to have been even worse than what I’m envisioning because when I opened my eyes the two people sitting behind me were quite literally standing up out of their seats to try and catch a glimpse of the obnoxious, rude, horrendously disgusting person (aka: me) that was the talk of the entire plane.

I was so confused when he woke me up I just ended up flinging my hands out in front of me to catch my balance [in the extremely stationary plane seat], tried for .3 seconds to figure out where I was but quickly turned my head to the other side and fell right back asleep.  How rude of that guy to wake me up! (kidding)

When we the plane touched down I was jolted awake and wiped the drool from the sides of my mouth.  I casually looked at the man next to me and judging by the fact that he moved his mouth, chuckled and pumped his eyebrows up and down I can only assume he said something to me… I didn’t understand him or attempt an effort to respond.  I looked at him confused and propped my head back on the seat waiting to deboard.  Man, I bet HE felt awkward!  Idiot.  (kidding)

I got home, crawled in bed and fell asleep by 11a.  I woke up Monday morning at 6a to head to work and was quite the peach that day, let me tell ya 😉

I guess when most people fly, they walk of the plane with a story about some crazy person they had to sit next to.  Well in this case, I am that crazy person and I have to tell the story on myself :/ I do however take great comfort in the fact that I provided that man (and a plane) with a story to tell to their friends and families that picked them up from the airport.  You’re welcome, World.


Carly Rae, Kanye, Overload, Photobombs

8 Feb

I’m officially losing it… I have found the stupidest things absolutely hilarious and have not been able to keep it together lately!!  I need an outlet so I can hopefully move on and not scare away the new people I’ve been meeting out here.  So here we go… let’s get this out of my system once and for all.

At work…. one of the grouchy/rude high ups IM’d me… and well….callmemaybe….could NOT get it together on our call…. I sincerely hope he does not get me fired over this….

Another work story… when we talk about clients in the office we will sometimes shorten their names; one of the clients we shorten to ‘Kayne.’  Since I work remotely, I type/read/email this name all the time but never actually say it aloud.  Extremely unfortunate because when I went to lead a meeting about Kayne in front of the team, dyslexia got the best of me and I kept referring to our client as  ‘Kanye’ …. as in Kanye West, rather than ‘Cain’ …. real professional.  After about five minutes one of the guys my age sitting at the conference table FINALLY corrected me…. fortunately for me, the old man partners in the meeting had no idea how funny this was, or who Kanye is for that matter and they were able to move forward, no problem.  I [again] could not get it together and asked one of the long-winded partners a question so I could buy myself some time and literally hold my mouth shut to recover.

I was walking to dinner with a guy that isn’t quite familiar with all my quirks yet and somehow it came up that one of my favorite things in the entire world is when dogs go turbo… you know… when they run laps repeatedly at lightening speed and nine times out of ten they use the sofa and/or your leg to propel themselves ….??  Someone help me out here.  As I started to explain “turbo” to him I could NOT stop laughing.  For two city blocks.  I was laughing so hard at the thought of it I actually started crying.  He uncomfortably laughed along and tried to throw me a bone (if you will) and make it less awkward by including himself in my internal dialogue and asking leading questions “Are you picturing it right now??”  gigglegigglegiggleuncontrolablegiggleYES!giggle.  “What kind of dog are you picturing?”  It was sweet and all… but I could feel the judgement and wanted nothing more than to just GET IT TOGETHER and move on!

Here’s a video I found on YouTube for your reference.  I will [maybe] pay you $2 if you can make it through without laughing (military personnel excluded):

Speaking of… how is it that I’m JUUUUUUUUUST now finding out about the Puppy Bowl?!!?!  I had absolutely NO IDEA this much cute could fit in a single YouTube video:

I found this gem on the MSN homepage yesterday… again… tears of laughter… just me??

just an all around awesome pic... in Cairo of course

just an all around awesome pic… in Cairo of course



just plain impressive

just plain impressive



hahahaha how can you not laugh at this?! GONZO!!!

hahahaha how can you not laugh at this?! GONZO!!!



no homo


camel head

camel head

hay garl - can I get a ride?

hay garl – can I get a ride?

how in the world is this guy driving?

how in the world is this guy driving?

And saving the absolute best for last… ANIMAL PHOTOBOMBS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Cannot get enough.  Yup.  Last night I definitely Googled this and laughed uncontrollably.photobombseal photobombdog photobombdolphin photobombfish2 photobombfish photobombgiraffe photobombdog3 photobombfish3 photobombemu photobombchipmunk photobombllama

I’ll stop…. posting these to my blog.  No promise on the Google searches though

Ok I feel better.  Back to adult life.

When Blind Women Need Oreos

7 Jan

My last post about the unibrow sugar fart got me thinking about other roommates that have been exposed to Daily Life With Sarah which then reminded me of the time I thought I was going to lose one of the best roommates this world has ever known.

Meet MalPal and J-Bootch:123kent

The three of us spent a year as roommates while I was living in Boston.  MalPal and I had already lived together for more than two years so she was used to the crazy that is Daily Life With Sarah.  J-Bootch on the other hand had no idea what he was getting himself into when he responded to an ad for an apartment on Craigslist with “Turbo Talk” and “Sporty Spice”  the summer of 2011.  Poor guy.

A few days after J-Bootch moved in, I subjected him to CO2 poisoning by nearly burning the house down as I attempted to microwave fishsticks for eight minutes. Fishsticks – 1, Sarah – 0.

yup, even the plate exploded.

yup, even the plate exploded.

A few days after that (less than a week after moving in), I had wrapped up dinner and drinks and hopped on the T to head home.  When I got off the T, something struck my foot.  My first thought was that some crazy kids were throwing things at me; my natural response was to turn around aggressively and show them my you-better-watch-out-or-I’ll-tell-your-mother face (it’s a good one).  Plan ruined when I turned around and there was a [not so] sweet blind woman in a motorized wheelchair who couldn’t even see how intimidating my face was.  She had accidentally hit me with her blind walking stick.  Because everyone has been hit by a blind woman in a motorized wheelchair, right?

I’m not sure how I feel about blind people driving in general, but political views aside I felt terrible for the thoughts that had been in my head .3 seconds after being struck on the foot.  I apologized to her and kindly and let her pass.

Don't you go dying on me!

Don’t you go dying on me!

As she got a few yards further, she did the same thing to a man that had been walking ahead of me…. struck his foot with her walking stick.  This man had the same natural reaction but instead, as he turned around he said “What the @$8%?!” This guy was ready to start a fight.  The woman said [in a none too friendly], bit of sarcastic tone “Excuse me.” As she forged ahead as continued yelling after her “You better watch where your $#@&*$%’ing  #*&$ is #&^$’ing going!!!”

Ok.  I get it.  No one wants to be struck on the foot, but seriously???  Can we just chill out??  Her sarcastic response was priceless:  I’M BLIND. 5304039-woman-in-sunglasses-portrait-strong-side-light

At this point she had already driven out ear shot to use a normal tone so he continued to make his thoughts known to her by YELLING a string of more obscenities.  Wooooooow.

I was furious.  I was ready to act.  I was coming up with every response in the book to stand up for this blind woman…. but then I realized that responding to his obscenities with a few of my own was no way to stand up for her.  Then I thought that responding at all was not wise considering my stature compared to this over-sized, enraged, behemoth of a man (mild exaggeration).

Ugh.  I had to do something.

He was walking at a slower than I was, so I passed him and ended up getting about a block ahead of him by the time I was home…. That’s when I had a GENIUS idea.idea

I ran up the stairs to my second floor apartment as fast as I could and burst thru the door.  J-Bootch had been enjoying a low key evening until I  ran up to him panting “DON’T ASK QUESTIONS!  WE NEED SOMETHING TO THROW!!! QUICK!!! SOMETHING NOW!!!!”

He started running through the apartment looking for things to throw.  He held up an apple… (love him) “No no no no… We’ll get in trouble for that.  OREOS!!!!! GET THE OREOS!!!!!!”

We ran and grabbed the Oreos from the pantry.oreos

At this point I had still not had a second to explain what we were doing, but I shooshed my hand over my mouth and signaled to J-Bootch that we needed to go on our balcony.  He followed close behind with Oreos in hand.

The timing could not have been more perfect… the jerk behemoth man that had cursed out the motorized blind woman had just walked passed our house and was within Oreo shot!  I whispered to J-Bootch… “We have to throw Oreos at that guy until we hit him!”  Bootch took aim and started throwing.  He nailed him in the back of the leg!!!!!!! YYYYYYYEEEESSSS!!!!! (love him x1,000,000).  We snuck back inside before the guy knew what (or who) had hit him.

I then took time to explain the situation and I’m not sure if J-Bootch agreed Oreos was the correct method of punishment…. but he could not have been a better sport.  Kind of like the time he woke up, I was no where to be found and…. well…

story for another day

story for another day

I’d like to think if I didn’t move to San Diego that J-Bootch and I would still be roommates…. so for now let’s just go ahead and say that’s the reason why we don’t still live together 😉

In the meantime, please let me know if you’d like me to join the neighborhood watch force in your neighborhood.  Oreos will be in abundance.

Serious inquires only, please.neighborhood watch

Unibrow. Sugar. Fart.

3 Jan

One of my biggest fears in life is having my old, close, dear friends meet the new awesome people in my life… the reason being, I have a number of stories (read: really embarrassing moments) that I have conveniently chosen to forget, that my friends remember for a lifetime and bring up when I’m trying to disguise myself as someone that is socially normal.  This is one of those stories, and these are the girls that have it:


The four of us lived together our junior year of college in a house we called The Mullet.. business in front, party in back.  I want to go ahead and tell one of these stories on myself before you have the opportunity to meet them.

The Mullet

The Mullet

It was the fall semester of our junior year and our ‘sorority’ (for lack of a better word) social was coming up; the theme was “All Things Yellow”  and I decided that Bert and Ernie was a cute costume idea… I’d be Bert (because he’s yellow) and my date would be Ernie.  The real reason I wanted to be Bert was because he has a siiiiiiiick unibrow and I’ve always wanted one.  Perfect opportunity to sport a uni!! (Who am I?)

the final product... cute, right?!?!

the final product… cute, right?!?!

A few nights before the social I had a random night off (rarely happens in college) and all my roommates were out of the house (also rarely happens in college).  My thought process went something like this:  I’m bored.  I don’t want to study.  Social is in two days.  Maybe I should get a costume together.  Do I still have that turtleneck?  Hey!  Unibrow!  I need to practice my unibrow!


Because everyone knows you can’t just wing a unibrow… it’s got to be perfect (?????)


I pulled out some eyeliner and mascara and had at it.  The more time that passed, the more focused I became with perfection.  The less I realized what exactly I was doing.  The bigger the rectangular colored in black brick was getting on my forehead.  Aleisha came home and I popped out of my room to see what she was up to.

Before she could so much as get a word out, she fell on the ground pointing and laughing.  I didn’t realize that she hadn’t been with me for the completely logical thought process that resulted in me putting a unibrow on my face.  I chuckled along nervously but she Could. Not. Stop. Laughing. It was in that moment that I realized that investing 30+ minutes to practice drawing a unibrow on your face is weird.

We started joking around and decided we couldn’t let a good unibrow go to waste… we needed to let this thing out in public!  Aleisha mentioned I should go ask the neighbors for a cup of sugar because we ran out when we were making our hypothetical sugar cookies.  Perfect!  The only problem was, most of our neighbors were families and it was pretty late so we didn’t want to disturb them.  Oh except the upper classmen/hot guy fraternity guys that lived across the street.  Target acquired!! (wtf, self???)

We marched ourselves over there giggling at the thought of their reaction to their new unibrow neighbor.  HotGuy1 answered the door and quite literally jumped back at the sight of my face.  It was priceless… I kept a straight face and managed to talk this poor guy’s ear off all while he tried to avoid eye[brow] contact.  He invited me into the house and walked me to the kitchen.  Leish waited for me outside… after all, the joke was pretty much over and this shouldn’t take too long… right?

He pointed in the general direction of the cabinet where they kept their sugar and without stopping kept up his pace, headed out of the kitchen and to the back of the house without so much as saying bye.  I rummaged in the cupboard when HotGuy2 came to the kitchen.  I turned around to say hi and he had the same gut-wrench-jump-back reaction.  How am I just so hilarious?!

I kept him in conversation as long as I could while his eyes darted around the room.  I maintained a straight face the entire time and even added lots of expression to my words just for the sake of using my eyebrows more in conversation.  I couldn’t take it anymore.. this poor guy… I finally gave him an out and decided it was time to leave.  When the unexpected happened.

I farted.


The loudest fart I have ever farted in my liiiiiiiiiiiiife.

It was not the kind of fart that you can blame on a chair scootching across the floor.  Or whose sound can be masked by the slam of a car door or a loud cough.  This was a bellowing, sound altering, mind blowing fart.  It’s one thing to intentionally embarrass yourself with a unibrow.  It is quite another to be taken back by an unexpected fart-boom.  What may have made it even worse was the fact that my response was to just turn and run.  As fast as I could.

As I bombed through the dining room, the kitchen, out the door and past Leish who had been waiting patiently in the driveway, I used everything I had learned from my 7th grade hurdle coach…  head up, knees up, toes up, hands flexed… bring it, [someone that runs really fast]!!  I had an undeniable look of muderous determination to get myself into The Mullet.

Leish could do nothing but run behind me asking “What happened?!?!  hahahahaha Wait why are we running?!?!  What happened?!?!?! haaaahahahaha Sarah???  Why are we running?!?!”  There was nothing that could be said or done to break the concentration I had harnessed to get into that house.  We ran inside, slammed and locked the door behind us and I told her the whole story.

To this day, it is one of the more memorable Mullet stories (and trust me… there are A LOT).  So before they have the chance to throw me under the bus… that is what happened the night of the unibrow sugar fart.

And now some cute pictures of the four of us so we can reminisce about the ol’ college days ❤

I Am A Security Threat At The San Diego International Airport

3 Dec

The notifications I received after my two hour flight on my Facebook status had me sincerely worried that I had accidentally announced a pregnancy, or changed relationship status, or posted pictures from my engagement photoshoot… but alas – it was the butter knife.  And you guys don’t even know the whole story!  Allow me to elaborate…


The story must begin with the loaf of pumpkin bread I made last week.  Every Tuesday I take an early train to LA and spend the day in back to back to back meetings.  I was in a rush and didn’t have time to eat breakfast… so rather than sit and eat I loaded up the last slice of my pumpkin bread into a tupperware container.  It comes as no surprise that pumpkin bread is infinitely better with cream cheese (Norte knows what I’m talking about!), so even though I felt like a bit of a goob for what I was about to do… I slabbed some cream cheese onto one side of the tupperware (no time to spread), grabbed a knife from the drawer and was out the door.

Upon taking my seat on the train, I unfolded the tray table, pulled out my laptop, and finally had a chance to munch on my pumpkin-bread-with-cream-cheese breakfast.  Ok yes, it definitely felt weird being the girl on the train unraveling a feast in her seat… but meh, I’ve definitely imposed worse on myself.

Fast forward to Thursday morning (two days later)… I was up at 4a, in a taxi at 5a, and at the airport at 5:15a to go to our San Francisco office for a couple days of meetings.  I always get nervous traveling for work so I typically do a thorough pack job the night before and triple check that I have everything I need before I walk out the door in the morning.

As I approached airport security (insert obligatory TSA joke here), I went through my standard remove coat, shoes, laptop from bag system; I have it down to a science… I hate holding up lines!  I passed through the metal scanner without any issues and stood at the end of the baggage conveyor belt waiting for my bags.

Waiting.  Waiting.  Waiting.

My fellow commuters in the line that was forming behind me were getting frustrated expressed through  heavy sighs, checking of watches, etc. Newbs standing behind the monitor reviewing the skeletor of all the bags was looking around for someone to help her identify an item in one of the bags.  There was no one to be found.  Great.

The more time that passed the more uncomfortable the line situation got.  People started standing on their tiptoes to see what who the holdup was so they knew where to direct their anger.  I stared at the girl directly behind me hoping to convince her, myself, and all the other passengers with my eyes that she was in fact was holding up the line, but that didn’t seem to work.

Newbs finally found Employee2, a more experienced set of eyes, and the two of them stared at the screen for a minute.  As if that wasn’t enough, Employee2 could not identify the object and called Employee3 over.  More stares.  Panic was setting in… not for me, but for the people looking at this bag.  Could this be a bomb?!  Are we under attack??  Is there a terrorist up in hurrrrr??  The reaction of the Newbs, Employee2 and Employee3 was not so comforting to myself or any of the nearby passengers.

Employee3 finally reached into the machine to grab the bag causing the slight delay panic in the security line.  It was my bag.

She approached me cautiously and said, “Excuse me ma’am, is this your bag?”  I tried to hide my nervousness with the confidence of a well versed, mature, upstanding commuter tone by saying “Yes.  Is there a problem?” (inside my guilty self hunkered down died a little).

This woman then gave me very specific instructions… “Please walk over to the table and we are going to need to check your bag…. No, no ma’am. please stand on this side so I can be standing directly to the machine…. Ma’am will you please set your bags down and stand back?”  My gosh… I was trying so hard to follow her instructions but everything I did was wrong.  People were staring.

The next words out of her mouth as she was swiping my bag for remnants of  bomb making materials were “Do you have any utensils in your bag?”  I’m sorry, what??  “Utensils, Ma’am.”

I immediately denied, because that’s what any first grader 26 year old would do.  Until I had the pumpkin bread flashback.  I sincerely wish I was able to provide some kind of filter, but I loudly proclaimed “OOOMMMGGG!!!! YES!!! I DO!!! It’s a butterknife from spreading cream cheese on Tuesday!!! hahahaha”  People tell me I give too much information… I have no idea why.

I wanted to dig out the butterknife causing this horrendous holdup but I knew better than to challenge Employee3’s authority by reaching into my bag, unauthorized, at the security checkpoint table.  The results were in and my bag was free of any bomb making materials, so I told her she could just dive in my bag and get the butterknife.  She was not so impressed and my lack of professionalism with regards to the butterknife scare.

She dug and dug and I even had to instruct her “No, not there… probably further down… yeah, under my laptop… maybe even under that filing index.  Yeah just go all the way towards the bottom…”  Then she pulled it out in all its glory… my butterknife.

Once she removed the metal weapon butterknife from my bag I figured they were just going to throw it out and I could finally get out of there.  You’d think… however that’s when Employee3 decided to rally her TSA employee of the year nominations by tracking down a supervisor that would allow me to take a butterknife (keyword, knife) on the plane.  Please no.  Please just stop.

I tried to stop her three separate times as she bolted back and forth between supervisors… she even rubbed the edge of the butterknife over her head with her gloved hand as she yelled across the security area prove it was not in fact a a sharp object.  She was acting as if I was throwing a tantrum about not being able to take my butterknife on the plane.  Look, lady… I already ate my pumpkin bread.  Please let me continue my 5a commute in peace.

And THAT my friends is the story of the time I tried to takeover the world carry a butterknife through airport security at the San Diego International Airport.

No PreDate Text Should Include the Word ‘Crockpot’

8 Aug

The biggest mistake I’ve ever made is not making this blog anonymous.

That said, I wish I had more freedom to post about dating aspect of my life because it is hiiiiiiiiiighly entertaining and I’m pretty sure the readership would allow me to quit my day job and blog forever.   Plus you readers seem to enjoy it!  Out of respect for all parties involved, I’m a 9-5er (ahem 8-6er) and sit in a cube staring at Excel sheets all day.  

I would however like to highlight some of my more memorable/hilarious/horrendous/wtf dating moments and contribute to the ‘Sh*t [insert group of people here] Say‘ movement on YouTube.  Here’s to hoping that those guys either a) don’t read my blog, and/or b) don’t realize I’m talking about them!  But really… it’s just too ridiculous not to share.

Here we go:

“I’ll let you get this one…” said to me by a guy that had [at one point] piqued my interest as he passive aggressively had me buy tickets to a show that he told me he already purchased tickets for.  I have no problem pitching in and will always (always, always) offer but he didn’t even let me get that far!  Needless to say, that was the only “one.”  Next.

“If you’re looking to ease back into dating… I’m a really easy guy to date” said to me a couple weeks after my breakup of the century.  I wonder how long he sat around thinking of that line, or how many times he’s used it before.  Nevermind, I don’t want to know.

“Yeah – I’ll miss you too.  But I’m kind of more one of those ‘out of sight, out of mind’ people.  So I mean…  I’ll be really excited when you come visit, but other than that it’ll probably not be a huge deal.”  We never went out, but really boys??  I can take a hint but you could have at least lied a little!

“I want to tell you that I like you, but I don’t want to be another Sarah Iverson Statistic”  —  Can someone tell me what that means exactly??

I was out with a group of people very recently and here is a conversation with a guy I had met earlier that night:

Him: Hey!  So I know your ex.  (Of course you do.  Mind you I had never met this guy, I’m in a new city, far away from anyone that would have even known I had an ex.. much less who he was.)

Me: Oh really?  That’s great ((fake smile))

Him: Yeah… he’s a really great guy

Me:  Yup – he is

Him: I’m really sorry about everything that happened. (It’s been over a year)  He really is such a good guy.

—————————- silence —————————————

Him: So would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow?

Me: No thank you.

“I know this is weird, but it feels kind of good to see you hurting — I feel like you are kind of getting a glimpse of what I’ve been going through” — says the guy that apparently had a crush on me for a long time and it was never reciprocated.  This might be why it didn’t work out between us…

“Sweeeeet Caroline!!!!!  I had to do a Google search to see who sang that!” — text from a guy before we went to a Sox game.  He is obviously not the one for me.  Extremely unfortunate, really.

There was a guy that chased me around for a couple months and we eventually went on a date.  Tables turned.. I became interested and he wasn’t.  Not going to lie, I was pretty bummed UNTIL a couple months later a group of us were answering the question “What are the 5 things you are most thankful for?”  #3 for him: “I’m really thankful for my genes.  ((silence)) You know, like genetics…” – Extremely great guy but he has not crossed my mind since.

“OH!  I’ve never seen Dumb and Dumber!” — One of the very few guys I’ve ever asked out, and he is quite possibly the most awesome guy EVER … but youch… that one cut deep.

“So I have a great idea for our first date!  And I hope this isn’t weird, but you’d meet my parents” ……………….. I was busy that evening :/ Still a very very good friend of mine 🙂

Let’s be real though… dating stories go both ways.   Some of the more epic failures on my part:

“Hey it’s pretty cold out here, I’ll be in Bed Bath and Beyond looking at Crockpots”  The guy was running late and THAT was my text to him.  Let the records show that no predate text should include the word ‘Crockpot’ … or Bed Bath and Beyond for that matter.  Lesson learned.

–I was on a first date with an awesome guy and started talking about being left on the side of the road on the day I thought I was being proposed to.  Then I got teary eyed.  Nothing says ‘let’s do this again sometime!’ better than bringing up your ex.  Probably shouldn’t have been going out on dates at that point…. Awwwwwwwwwwwwkward!

–I tried to use a computer issue I had to flirt via email with the hottest guy I’ve ever known in real life.  I ended my email with ‘It’ll be a Dalmatian Plantation!’ … Because what guy doesn’t love a damsel in distress that can quote 101 Dalmatians?!  (For the record, it was totally relevant and funny because it rhymed with the computer error message that kept popping up on my screen)

“I just have a lot of baggage right now that you shouldn’t have to deal with… I’d rather you be my copilot than my skycap.”   Yup.  That was my college self.  Totally killed the mood because I couldn’t stop laughing after that, but also proud of how quickly I was able to think on my feet!!  He married the next girl he dated and we are both better off 🙂

Now that I’m living in a new city I’m hoping I can (lovingly) publicize more of these incredibly awkward moments while still maintaining interest from at least SOME guys!  It’s a fine line, really.  In the meantime, my brother did some pretty funny posts about his worst dates… you should check them out!

The Single Life: Worst Date Countdown #3

The Single Life: Worst Date Countdown #2

The Single Life: Worst Date Countdown #1

Anyone care to share horrible dating stories?  You can’t say it’s because you don’t want them to see it… I promise they don’t read my blog.  LET’S HEAR SOME!

I’m the Fat Bridesmaid

17 Jul

I’ve been a bridesmaid a few times in my day and I could not be more excited to share in the celebration of the huge milestone.  I am always so so so so sooooo honored to be included, especially since that means I get a free pass on their family vacations for life!!!!! (Still waiting on those family vacay invites, LADIES).  But I’ll be totally honest with you and say that I’m still not really sure why I’m asked to be in the wedding party at all – you’d think that my closest girlfriends of all people would know better than anyone that my unfortunate luck somehow always manages to make completely normal, happy life situations entirely chaotic…. weddings being no exception.

Meet Ashole:

Such a beautiful bride!  Remember the story about driving to Nashville for the weekend?  Yeah that’s her… one of my closest and best friends.  The pictures have surfaced on Facebook within the past week or so which leads me to tell you of the time I [almost] ruined her wedding.

Brynn & Sarah

Ok, ok – so “ruined” is a bit of an exaggeration.  Other than using the most explicit words some of those people have ever heard to curse out a mound of fire ants that were biting my feet, pronouncing Ashley’s new last name wrong and so it sounded like a barn animal (all weekend), the pedicurist (?) having to use the special electric tools to saw off my toenub (long story), the other bridesmaids having to go on “Sarah Duty” to keep

Brynn & Sarah

me from knocking over everything within my 5’5″ armspan, starting fake fights with Brynn, Brynn and I referring to Ashley as “bridezilla” in front of all her friends that have never met us, being attacked by bullfrog-locusts, and making a speech at the rehearsal dinner in front of about 75 people where I talked about Ashley’s pit stains, killer AOOOOGAH noise and my hesitations with their relationship… I’d say things were going pretty well!

Ashley is by far the most cool/calm/collected bride I have ever encountered.  From flowers, to guest lists, to decorations, to day of activities, to bridesmaid dresses – there was absolutely nothing that could take away the peace she had in the days’ events.  Leave it to me to test that cool/calm/collected/no stress demeanor.

Bridesmaid dresses are a great example of how laid back she is – we could get any dress we wanted, from any store, in a variety of colors that she had put together in her color palette…so cool, right?!  I did everything I in my power to make sure I was prepared for the big day, and by that I mean – I brought four dresses with me that I thought would coordinate well with the palette.  Some would call that overkill, I call it knowing myself and my tendencies.  Ash was so sweet and said any of them would work, but she loved the one that was two-tone because it tied all the other dresses together and completed the palette.  Done and done.  Highfive, self! Best bridesmaid EVER!

Ash was SO laid back that she didn’t want to decide the standing order of bridesmaids in the ceremony until she saw all the dresses next to each other since they were all different.  This decision happened about 20 minutes before pictures started; we hung all the bridesmaid dresses up next to each other and Ash decided on this:

How cute is Ashole’s style btw??  I love how she pulled this all together 🙂  Oh and you see the two-tone dress second from the right?  That is was mine.

I went ahead and put my dress on so I’d be ready to go in a moment’s notice.  We were all goofing around, listening to Brynn rap, hair was done, make-up perfected… all was right in the world.  A few minutes later as everyone else started getting their dresses on and I noticed that I had a piece of hair that was a bit out of place – I grabbed a bottle of hairspray and one of the 47 curling irons that was laying out to recurl the fallen hair chunk.  As I reached up to curl I heard a


I froze.  I looked down to see the zipper on my side that had been holding my dress together had bust open.

Like a seven year old who just spilled grape juice on their parents’ new sofa, I tried to hide the situation and fix it myself before anyone noticed.  That’s what any normal 25 year olds would do, right?  This zipper thing was no big deal, right?  This used to happen to my sleeping bags ALL the time… the only difference was that this dress had it out for me.  It took about 27 seconds for my slow, patient, calm attempt at fixing said zipper to progress into violent shaking and an all out brawl: Sarah vs. bridesmaid dress.  Panic set in.  Somehow getting a size 00 when I usually wear a 0 made me 1. feel like a (literally and figuratively) huge idiot and 2. rethink my workout routine.

It became harder and harder to breathe… whether a result of my new found claustrophobia or a dress that was too tight, we may never know.  I was doing everything I could to hold back my tears against the newly formed, Sarah-caused wedding disaster.

I leaned over to Brenna as casually as possible and said “Hey – could you help me out with this?”  while pointing at my ribcage imposed muffin top which was bulging above and below the zipper, mind you.  Rather than the empathy panic which I would have received from anyone else – Brynn started laughing hysterically sending me into more of a panic and also drawing the eyes of everyone in the room.  Secret was out.  Grape juice on the new sofa exposed.  DANGIT.

It was getting harder and harder to fight the tears… leave it to me and my fat ass ribcage to ruin my best friend’s wedding day.  Then it happened… the first tear fell.  All hands flew on deck.  More tears.  My appendages were being thrown in every direction to get a better angle of the zipper and alas… no movement.  Hands were coming through the top of the dress stripping me down to my strapless bra (which I was fighting to keep on amongst the commotion), and more hands up through the bottom of my dress exposing my entire butt along with and extremely inappropriate panties I chose to wear that day.  More tears.

Apparently this was a task for the groom’s 83 year old grandmother.  A couple of the girls went and found her and brought her back to the bridal suite.  Great.  “Please don’t judge my scandalous panties” was all I could think as I stood, arm pinned above my head, booty out, fully exposed as this precious grandmother approached me.  In the most kind and loving voice said “It’s ok sweetie, I’ve worked with zippers for over 30 years.”  My tears stopped – She will save me!  She glanced down and was polite enough not to speak of the distaste she had in my choice of under garments… but something tells me she did not approve because forget the cautious, tedious, warm, loving hands I was expecting from this sweet woman… she tried for .2 seconds, grabbed scissors and CUT ME OUT OF MY DRESS.  That’s not embarrassing.

Thankfully I put on the runner up dress and all was right in the world.  And THIS is why I come prepared… never know when you’re going to have to be cut out of your dress!!  From the pictures, you would have never even known 😉

All in all, a BEAUTIFUL wedding, a gorgeous bride, a loving husband, two of the greatest families I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting… and a crazy awesome huge shoutout to Rosalyn and Erica for all their hard work!!!  LOVE YOU ALL!!!!

::disclaimer:: No weight insecurity interventions, please.  I am completely fine and confident with my body… if I were to sincerely be complaining about busting out of a size 00 I would ask that you would just go ahead and slap me.  Chalk it up as another one of those goofy Sarah stories!

Photography by: