Tag Archives: embarrassing moments

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:

melalashley

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.

LOUDLY.

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 ❤

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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…

fbstatus

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.

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

RIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiIIIIiiiiIIIiiIIIiiP.

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: www.andrewryanshepherd.com

Venue: www.threepointsranch.com