haters to the left

I recently got a bit of a hate comment. I get one of these on the blog or on my youtube account every now and again, so I usually just laugh at them and continue with my day. Generally, and even in this case, the person just doesn't get the joke. And I don't take it personally if you don't get my humor. But every once in a while, something comes along that I must share with everyone. I was actually just going to post this one without comment, but I decided to check the original post to see if i deserved her wrath, and I didn't, so I will share a few thoughts.

First of all, I rarely get blog hate posts these days because I don't really write about celebrities anymore. Not that I ever really did. Something might come up every once in a while, but I usually leave the celeb stuff to the pros. I also used to do reality show recaps here, but I think I got only love from those posts.

To start, here is the post. Note that this post is from TWO YEARS AGO, when Katy Perry was just kind of starting to get big. Because this post is from TWO YEARS AGO, the video that I had linked in the post has since expired. Every single bullet point that I wrote out was 100% referencing the video that was posted, which was a performance of "I Kissed A Girl" on So You Think You Can Dance. Those are the facts you need to know. Here is the comment that I recently got:

I think what's moronic are the reasons listed for hating Katy Perry.
Reasons for hating any celebrity really. No one should even care this much.
If you had a friend named Katy Perry who named her cat "kitty purry," you would think it was adorable.
She wasn't the sexiest woman of the year for nothing.
She's a funny sexy celebrity who knows how to appeal to her listeners.
Even if I didn't like her music, if she came on the radio I'm not thinking about how her voice doesn't match her body or how she dresses or what she (cleverly) named her cat.
If you don't like her music don't listen to it.
And definitely do something more productive the next time an unimpressive celebrity comes along, rather than post a hate blog about a celebrity, get a cat.
So we don't have to hear about the retarded things you choose to hate and your terrible, shallow reasons for hating them.
Everybody reading this knows you won't do that of course because the only reason you post hateful blogs about anyone is to feed off the attention you're getting, good or bad.
Your own friends hate you. Everyone hates gossipy bitches who trash celebrities online.

Now, I don't want to get too harsh here, because to me, it doesn't matter. But, then I realized that she was not only referring to me, but she was also hating on my friends. When I went back to the post to refresh my memory, I was reminded of a previous hater in the comments, and the resulting minor back and forth between my defenders and this dude. The dude called me a moron, so a defender of mine turned that moron back around on him. this NEW hater, Sav, picked up that moron and ran with it, and has decided to comment on the whole situation, apparently treating it as one long post that I wrote entirely. Let's break this down, shall we?

I think what's moronic are the reasons listed for hating Katy Perry.
Reasons for hating any celebrity really. No one should even care this much.

-- i actually don't really hate katy perry. i don't really give a fuck about katy perry. and i never said in the post that i hated her, i said that i couldn't love her because of the 10 reasons listed related to the video. Of the 10, 4 are specifically about the song. I will allow that if you don't personally know me, you can't even begin to understand why I have a huge problem with the song "I Kissed A Girl", but it makes me sad that the reason that song is not great isn't easily recognizable.

If you had a friend named Katy Perry who named her cat "kitty purry," you would think it was adorable.

-- This is actually not true, I wouldn't. But also, you are calling out my brother here. I didn't say anything about her cat in the original post.

She wasn't the sexiest woman of the year for nothing.

-- I believe I did allude to her redeeming quality being that she's hot.

She's a funny sexy celebrity who knows how to appeal to her listeners.

-- Okay. Good for her.

Even if I didn't like her music, if she came on the radio I'm not thinking about how her voice doesn't match her body or how she dresses or what she (cleverly) named her cat.

-- Okay...Good for you...(someone really likes that cat name, huh? do we think her cat wrote this comment?)

If you don't like her music don't listen to it.

-- I don't. Thanks. The performance was forced upon me on a show I enjoy watching.

And definitely do something more productive the next time an unimpressive celebrity comes along, rather than post a hate blog about a celebrity, get a cat.

-- If I get a cat, should I name it Kitty Purry? Should I name it Saroar Meowtinez? Also -- was that an admission that she's unimpressive?

So we don't have to hear about the retarded things you choose to hate and your terrible, shallow reasons for hating them.

-- Again, I never said I hated her. And again, the reasons listed were directly related to the posted video that I'm sure Sav was unable to watch. And just to throw some of Sav's own logic back, why read about the things I choose to hate if it bothers you?

Everybody reading this knows you won't do that of course because the only reason you post hateful blogs about anyone is to feed off the attention you're getting, good or bad.

-- Everybody knows!! Everybody who enjoys reading two year old posts!! EEK! I GOT SO MUCH ATTENTION FROM THAT ONE BLOG POST HOW DID SHE KNOW THAT WAS THE ONLY REASON I POSTED IT?! AND I'M FURTHERING THE ATTENTION BY HIGHLIGHTING THIS HATEFUL BLOG COMMENT SAV POSTED. WHAT A PARADOX!! HOW META!!

Your own friends hate you. Everyone hates gossipy bitches who trash celebrities online.

-- well, friends. i didn't realize you all hated me. i will stop trying to hang out with y'all. but i wonder who she's talking about when she refers to 'gossipy bitches who trash celebrities online' -- perez maybe? because i don't really like him either.

mingus and the drifter

My apartment has a nice little corral/balcony sort of deal that I'll one day put a fancy set of porch furniture in so pals and I can drink beers and stare at the houses across the street. For now, it just holds a few things that I brought from NY that have no place in my current apartment. And a plant that I always forget to water (which is why I don't have kids). I was just out there for a minute, when I heard an enthusiastic meow. I jumped a little, because the cats that live in my building are not this vocal. There are two that come from across the way, Charlie and Tango. And then there is a fatter black one that hangs around, though I don't know who he belongs to.

When I turned to see which cat it was, I was greeted by a larger adult long-haired gray and white cat with the cutest little face. I said to the cat "Woah. Who are you? Where do you come from?" He responded with a meow. This cat was unlike other wandering cats I usually see. He was super-friendly, had soft hair that was dirty on the white part (though it didn't seem like he was used to being dirty), and he really wanted my attention. Any time I turned away from him or stopped petting him, he put his little paw gently on my leg and mewed. I wished at this moment that I could speak cat, because I'm pretty sure this cat belongs to somebody, but he was wearing no collar and he wasn't telling me what I needed to know in English.

Then, in a little crevice in the floor of my corral, I saw a little black something sticking out. I retrieved it from the crevice, and saw that it was a collar and ID tag. Oh glorious day, I thought. Let's save this cat. I checked out the collar information. It said "Mingus" and had two phone numbers and an address I was unfamiliar with. Now, I'll admit...because I hate the phone so much and because interactions with strangers make me uncomfortable, I hesitated for a minute about calling these people. I thought, "Oh, they must live nearby, I'm sure he'll wander back." I said to the cat "Are you Mingus?" He did not answer. I looked up the address on my phone, and saw that it was in the Barton Springs area. aka pretty far from where I live in cat-wandering terms. So I called the number.

As the phone rang, I thought about all the different ways I could lead into this. As the phone rang multiple times, I thought about how serious I was about leaving a message. But this cat -- it kept looking at me with it's cute lil eyes and it's sad little mews, so I soldiered on. A lady picked up on the fourth ring.

L: Hello?
Me: Hi...umm...Is this Sydney* or Jamie*?
L: Uh....yes?
Me: Um...do you have a cat...named Mingus?
L: Yes! I do!
Me: Um...is it a gray and white cat?
L: Uh...what do you-- no he's more like black and white.
Me: Hmm...Well, I just found this collar in front of my apartment, and it was next to this gray and white cat...he wasn't wearing it, so I thought I'd give the number a call. He's a longhair cat with a white bottom and a gray top.
L: Hmm...no that's not him. Where are you?
Me: I'm in Hyde Park. I saw that the address on the collar seems pretty far from here, so I didn't know...
L: Yeah, I just moved to Hyde Park from the Barton Springs area. I lost him after I moved. He's been missing for a little while so I'd pretty much given up, but when you called I got so excited. (break my heart)
Me: Ooh...I'm so sorry I got your hopes up.

So I asked her more about Mingus and told her I'd keep an eye out for him. She actually lives like 5 blocks from here, so she said she would come to my area and do another search for him. I honestly don't know how long that collar had been there. It looked roughed up. I have not seen a black cat with green eyes and white whiskers/paws at all (Mingus), but I did notice that this mystery Longhair cat seemed fond of the collar. He would grab it in his mouth when I put it on the ground. I worried that Mingus lost his collar somewhere else, and this transient had lifted it (like the cat version of finding treasures that he'll pawn later) and brought it to my corral.

Now I have two problems. Because I have Mingus' collar, I feel personally responsible for finding him, since nobody will be able to call the number if they do find him. I also have this awesome gray and white cat that I want to bring into my house and bathe and spoon and then get into wacky scenarios with. But also, I want to find his home, because I have a feeling he's lost too. Will anyone win here?!?


*names changed for no good reason, really...

la vida rica: pt. 3 - crossing the line

Before he heads to the next room, Bravo grabs me and kisses me on the cheek. I am fooled into thinking he is leaving, because the cheek kiss was so random, but alas, I am still not so lucky. After a few minutes listening to music in the next room with my father, Bravo beckons me to join them. I go, because I'm a nice girl that has a hard time being mean even when the situation calls for it. My father is standing behind his bar while Bravo and I are seated in front of it. Bravo decides to change his strategy.

He grabs my hands and looks me right in the eye and tells me that his girlfriend (!) is a model. She is tall, beautiful, blonde, and blue-eyed. And he would leave her in a second for me. I'm surprised to see how hard he's pursuing me if he already has a girlfriend, but that's the story of my life. I don't think I really responded to this, because I was probably at a double loss for words and also a little bit drunk. He mentioned it a couple more times. I think I may have shrugged, or laughed, or said "that's great" at his last mention of her because, god I mean, shut up already, I get it. You have this awesome chick and I'm shorter and browner. Anyway, he responded to my dismissal of it with "I don't like American girls." I laughed and answered "Well, I'm an American girl." And he says, "No. You know what I mean." Well, then why are you dating one and throwing her in my face? Meh. So I'm getting kind of fed up at this point. Bravo is showing his inebriation more. He keeps wrapping his arm around me and pulling me in to nuzzle/kiss me on the cheek. I feel weird that he's doing this in front of my father, because I know that this is probably about the time that my father is thinking up multiple ways to murder this man.

So, at this point, my father says that maybe it's time to call it a night. He mentions (to my great disbelief) the Memorial Day party we'll be having that Sunday, and if he likes, he can come by. Bravo puts on his bold shoes and says "Ok, how about you call it a night, and she comes to stay with me." TO MY FUCKING FATHER. I think this might have been when my dad started thinking of places to bury the body. My dad tells him that's not going to happen (still remaining surprisingly not threatening) and that it's time to go. My father heads to the kitchen and I start to walk after him. Bravo stands in front of me and gives me a hug. Then he goes to kiss me on the cheek, but turns his face at the last second. Since I've seen most John Hughes movies, I was alert enough to quickly turn my face the other way to avoid a forcible mouth kiss. He tried to go for the mouth kiss one more time, and again I dodged it artfully. And like every girl learns in rape defense 101, I told him "no!" and pushed him away. This was the last of my interaction with Bravo. My father said his goodbyes/see you laters to him and showed him out. Bravo sat in his car in front of the house for half an hour before leaving. He left a beer bottle on the lawn for my father to discover the next morning.

Also left the next morning was a strange voicemail on my father's cellphone. It was a lady saying that there was a man there that was too inebriated to drive home, and when asked if there was anyone to contact, he gave them my father's name. What was strange about this was that my dad had given Bravo his business card, which doesn't have his cell number on it. So we weren't even sure this was Bravo until my dad called the number back later that day and the bar confirmed that it was him, but it was all taken care of. And my luck finally kicked in when Bravo did not show up for the Memorial Day BBQ. I'm assuming he was too drunk the night he came over to remember his way back to the house.

I found out later that Bravo had been at the restaurant with three friends. He completely ditched them in the middle of their meal to hang out with us. And I don't think he even told them he was leaving. Something I also learned is that my brother is less protective in these situations and more pimp. He kept saying "What can I tell him? She's funny! She's smart! She's nice!" Also, my dad was pleased with hearing me speak Spanish, the most he's ever heard me speak. I was just impressed I could speak it after six beers.

la vida rica: pt. 2 - the wooing

The four of us leave the restaurant and we give Bravo a lift to the car. In Spanish (actually, from now on, just assume that everything Bravo says is in Spanish...he knew a couple of English words, but not too many), Bravo tells me that we are just driving him to his car. He asks if I understand, and I repeat "Your car. Is over there." Even though I've told him multiple times I understand Spanish pretty well, I just don't speak it very well, he seems reluctant to believe me. Many times throughout the evening he will verify with either me or my father that I am understanding him.

After a brief stop at the QuikTrip two miles from my dad's house (ricky and I couldn't make the extra distance...or at least our bladders couldn't), we arrive back at the house. Bravo is a few minutes behind us, so as my father gets beers out and my brother heads to the television, I keep a lookout secretly hoping we've lost him in the two miles since the QuikTrip. I'm not that lucky, and I see his car pull up. I open the front door and see him get out of his car, walk up to the For Sale sign on my father's lawn, pull it out of the ground, and bring it inside with him. He asks if the house is for sale and I tell him it is. He places the sign inside the entryway to the house and goes to greet my father. I take this opportunity to join Ricky at the television.

After some conversing with my father in the kitchen, Bravo comes to sit next to me on the couch. My father sits next to him. This is when the offerings begin. In addition to the aforementioned fashion boutique that he would purchase for me, I would also have access to his family's large tomato business, and multiple car dealerships. He offered to buy me a large house in Mexico. He offered to buy me the house we were sitting in, the house my father has been trying to sell. And, like, how am I supposed to take this? I would've had a difficult time explaining this in English to someone coming off as clueless as he was, so having to basic it up in Spanish I think made it much more difficult to get through his head. There wasn't anything glaringly wrong with this guy. He wasn't bad-looking, he was in his early 30's, and he was clearly very rich. My stepsister later talked about what a creep he was, but I actually didn't think he was too creepy. He kept talking about how this was destiny and did I believe in destiny. And I can understand his approach if he truly felt that. I just wasn't feeling it. And we could barely communicate. And we live in different countries. Do you see how I couldn't even take this seriously? Because he couldn't. He could not understand why I wasn't willing to drop everything in my life to tell him right then and there that I'd give it a try with him. He was all "But, I'll buy you this house!!" and I was all "But I don't want to live in Oklahoma!" and then he'd be all *confused face* "But I'll buy you this house!!"

After this, my father explained to him that I have a life in Austin and I like it there. He told Bravo that I wasn't interested in money, but "amor puro". Bravo stood up and asked why I was living the 'hard' life when he could give me the easy life. He then got down on his knee, grabbed my hand, and repeated that he was very taken with me and couldn't I see this was destiny. Behind him, my brother was doubling over in laughter. I was fighting laughing at that while still trying to keep a straight face for this poor, sincere, inebriated rich man.

At some point, my father had gotten up to get more beer. Bravo gets up from his knee, and sits next to me. He calls my dad over and says "Tell her about the horses." My father tells me something I guess he learned earlier at dinner, that Bravo has horses. Bravo excitedly interjects that he has 15 horses. He tells me about his favorite horse, a black beauty named Chubasco. He asks if I know what that means, and I say no. He looks up to my father for translation and I am told that it means "earthquake*". Bravo looks back at me like an excited puppy and pauses for me to be impressed. I smile and nod but again, don't really know what to tell him. He gets up and asks my father if they can listen to music. They go into the next room, while my brother and I stay with the television.

Stay tuned for the part 3, the exciting conclusion, wherein Bravo almost overstays his welcome.

*chubasco actually means 'squall' or 'storm'

La Vida Rica: part one - the introduction

For my father's 60th birthday dinner, we all headed to a Mexican restaurant on the Jenks river walk in Tulsa. It was a Friday evening on a holiday weekend, so the place was packed. We had some drinks at the bar while we waited for our table. I was engaged in a conversation with my brother, stepsis, and bro-in-law when my father's attention was pulled away by a fellow next to us at the bar. This is not out of the ordinary -- my dad is a man about town and he's a big cheese at the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce. It's normal for him to know someone wherever we are, and often he has Spanish conversations with these acquaintances.

At some point, my father introduced us to this fellow. (None of us can remember his name now, but it sounded like Bravo, so that's what we'll call him.) Bravo explained (in Spanish) that he didn't speak any English. It was right about this point we were summoned for our table. My dad gave this guy his card in case he could help him out in any way.  Bravo insisted that later on in our meal, my dad rejoin him at the bar for a beer. And off we went.

Now, a little about Bravo...or what we know at this point anyway. He was born in Dallas, but lives in Mexico. His family owns a big business in Tulsa, and every summer he comes here for three months to make sure things are going smoothly. He doesn't speak English. I assumed that the rapport he created with my father was business-related, and didn't give this guy a second thought.

After we'd been sitting at the table for a bit, my dad notices that Bravo has left the bar. We wonder why he would invite dad for a beer and then disappear, but we didn't dwell on it too long. A short while later, Bravo comes to our table from another part of the restaurant and sits right down. He and my father immediately start chatting like old friends, so my siblings and I have our own conversation.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Bravo gesturing a lot towards me. I turn on my Spanish ear, and hear that my father seems to be talking about me more than the other kids. I joke with Bianca that I think our dad is arranging a marriage for me and that they are discussing the dowry. We have a grand laugh about it. Little did I know my jokes weren't too far from the truth.

Bravo stays with us for our whole meal. My dad is the only one conversing with him, and every few minutes my dad will ask me random questions like, "have you ever thought about owning or working in a fashion boutique?" and "are you guapa (beautiful)?" (I find out later that Bravo is insisting that my father ask me these questions.) I realize now that this guy is super into me (the longing stares across the table should have clued me in sooner) and I worry that he's asking my father for my hand in marriage. My dad mentions that Bravo wants to come back to the house for a beer with us. I still am naively thinking he's building a business relationship and this does not have everything to do with me. My stepsister and her husband leave for the evening and Bravo buys the rest of us two more rounds of beer -- the second round being Pacifico, the beer from Mazatlan, where Bravo lives. I guess he was subtly trying to acclimate me to my future home.

Stay tuned for part 2, where we all head back to the house for some drinks.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone, suckas!

what's my age again

mom (talking about some john wayne movie): it was 25 years ago, so...
me: 25 years? are you sure?
mom: yeah, it was the 70's...
me: mom, I'm 26 and I was born in 1982.
me: oh wait, I'm 27.

conversations about ninjas

here is a conversation i had with my team leader when i got into work this morning:

TL: Oh, hi Sara. You snuck in today.
Me: Like a ninja.
TL: A what?
Me: A ninja.
TL: I don't know what that means. I've only heard the word.
Me: Ninja -- Silent, sneaky.... deadly.
TL: What is it, like an animal?
Me: No, a person!
TL: Is that a real word?
Me: Yeah! Ninja! Silent assassins. You never see them. You never hear them. Until it's too late.
TL: But, what--- Nevermind.

Fin.

motocop update

i just saw on the news that police have distributed 125 tickets for hazardous train track crossing

IMing with bro: emoticons and middle fingers

me: my friend was on the office this week
:D
bro: yeah you only mentioned that like four hundred times
me: haha
bro: im sorry four hundred and one
me: i knew you'd say that, thus the :D face
bro: how bout this face
um...
how do i make a middle fingo
nlm
me: good one
bro: ~nlm
therrre
me: -+-
what's the tail it has?
bro: the thumb
me: who hails a cab while flippin the bird?
bro: \nlm
better?
me: i like just nlm
thumb folded in
bro: my thumb sticks out when i flick off
do you thumb tuck
me: yes... depends on the mood.
bro: oh how dainty
me: haha
ur the dainty one
you flip off like you drink tea
bro: well my flick off is not dainty then
me: pinky out
thumb out
bro: nah my pinky stays in on both counts
oh i c
OIC
me: n^m
i feel like there's gotta be something better than the l
but maybes not
bro: haha
unless
\nIIm
is double better?
me: nIIm
yes
bro: mllnr
is right handed better?
me: it looks like you are shorthanding millionaire
bro: shthndg mllr
me: i like \nIIm

late submission

my uncle/amazing race partner alf has just submitted his go at the slappin' batman comic, and i think it's a pretty good one:

motocops on the prowl

the first morning i drove to my job, i went a little bit of a shortcut way. like most ways out of my apartment area, i had to pass over train tracks to get where i needed to go. now that the metro is running, everyone is on high alert re: not getting hit by trains while foolishly stopping on the tracks. so, i go this shortcut way, and while i'm waiting to make the two turns i need (one over the tracks), i notice to motorcycle cops just chillin'. i figure they are probably there to make sure everyone is properly minding the tracks so i make sure to be superaware of not breaking any rules. while i'm waiting for the cars to clear so i can turn, i witness each Motocop pull over a separate victim. (i would try to explain how i saw this happen, but i tried explaining it via IM to my brother and he was so confused i had to draw him a diagram a couple days later. when i went back and reread it, i confused even myself. basically, i theeenk people are getting pulled over for crowding the stop line and not leaving the tracks clear.) i made a note that the cops would probably be at this post for a few days, and to make sure to go the non-shortcut route. even though i'd still be passing by the cops. there was less of a chance of getting pulled over since i would cross the tracks at a non-guarded area.

so the next day, i do just that. and as i am passing by Motocop point, I see again that they each have a separate car pulled over. yikes on motobikes. this happens again the day after that.

today, i head to work in the morning, and while i see the cops waiting around, i don't actually see any victims snagged in this window of time. however, even though i usually go a different way home at the end of the day, i had to pass by them today so i could gas up my car. while i was waiting at a light, i saw the motocops just chillin'. their bikes were parked and they were just standing around, looking at all the traffic. then, i see a car cross the tracks to wait behind a car that was already there. bad move, i think, but maybe this dude will luck out since the cops seem to be just shootin' the shit. but then i see the cop approach the car on foot and tell him through the window that he needs to pull over. ON FOOT. he just strolled up there like he was shooting fish in a barrel. i wonder if they are getting just warnings or if they are getting ticketed for this. and i wonder how much the fine would be. because if the cops are consistently catching at least two people in the same five minute window of time that i head to work every morning, i can't even imagine how many they pull over daily.

am i going to hell?

i started my new short-term job today, and while it definitely hasn't been as dreadful as i expected (so far...), it's still a little bit weird. there is a long list of rules to abide by and in the new hire packet, they made sure to mention multiple times that they could terminate my employment at will at any time for any reason. yikes. on top of all this, i'm sitting in a room with 99 other people (no exaggeration, there are literally 100 of us in one room -- i got assigned to the big room) at a computer that is about a foot from the nice lady next to me. we're all at long tables -- no cubicles or faux walls -- it's like a little test scoring sweatshop. within our room, charmingly known as "barton springs", we have all been assigned to teams with team leaders. we really don't have to work together, it's more of a way of assigning someone who knows what she's doing to guide a group of about 8 of us to make sure we're doing everything correctly. i am one of three in my group that's aged somewhere between 25 and 32, the rest are all older ladies and gentlemen.

now, many people don't know this about me, but i'm actually pretty shy at first. i also hate small talk. i don't like chatting about little unimportant things. i'd much rather read a magazine or stare at the ceiling, but since i will be working in really close quarters with these people, i thought i should at least participate in some of the 'get to know you' chatter. after answering multiple questions about my life, this pleasant but (overly) talkative nigerian lady looks at my shirt and says "does your shirt say blondie?", to which i respond "yes". she then jokes that she wishes my hair were blond, because then she could just call me blondie. i told her she could call me blondie if she wanted to, but then helpfully pointed out the giant name placards that we all have at the top of our computers.

this is when things got weird for me. here is our convo:

lady: oh yes, sara, i see. i'll know your name. sara...that is a christian name. are you a christian?
me: ... uhhh...yes?
lady: you hesitated on your answer
my work neighbor: when there's hesitation...it means she was raised christian.
me: yes

*aight lemme interject here. that's fucking bold, right? (and not just because i bolded it. heyooo.) i mean, i had been talking with this lady for like 7 minutes. why..what...how was i supposed to answer that? i'm not going to go into my spiritual beliefs with some stranger, whom i am pretty sure is a devout christian. i'm not gonna answer with a resounding "NO!!" and i'm not gonna pull a cross from under my shirt and wave it around. i mean...that's a weird question to ask an almost complete stranger, right? okay....*

lady: i ask because sara is a christian name, so why else would they give it to you?
me: there are plenty of reasons people are named what they are, regardless of the background of the name...
lady: so who are you named after?
me: (i know only that my dad once told me the drive from brownsville, tx north toward kingsville passes towns called ricardo and sarita. this is true, though i don't know if it's the true reason we are named as such) Uh...my dad named me?
lady: well, why did he name you that?
me: i don't know..he liked the name?
lady: well didn't you ever ask him?
me: my parents divorced when i was two, so i didn't get a chance to (!!!)

who do i think i am? why was that my default go to answer when i was backed in a corner? especially because i talk to my dad pretty often these days. and why did she keep pushing it? luckily things weren't uncomfortable or anything, she took that as a satisfying answer and moved her line of questioning on to something else. but, i mean...how should i have handled this?

the cost of procrastination

i start a new job tomorrow that will last a few weeks, so today I went through that panic mode i always default to where i feel like i have to get a lot of shit done since I a)haven't been doing anything and b) won't have free time for a while. Since I had a couple of things to do at the local walgreens, i decided to take my list of needed household items with me and stock up on supplies.

usually when I'm not working, i'll keep a list of things i need or might be needing soon. By putting it off as long as possible, in my mind I am saving money that i don't have. and then, days like today when i know i'll have a paycheck in the near future, I head out and stock up. all of this is just a really long way of saying that i just spent $90 at walgreens. and it was all stuff i kind of needed. i could've skipped the shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant, but it would be my close quarter workmates that would suffer when i realized too late that i was out. i could've forewent the economically priced three pack of Brita filters, but that's water we're talking about (and it was basically like buy 2 get 1 free when comparing prices!!). i could've left out the 8 pack of paper towels, but i ran out of paper towels about three weeks ago and it's been annoying. also it was only three dollars more to get six more rolls, and i'm a bargain hunter.

even though i went in with a list of six things to get, walking through the aisles reminded me of other items i needed. i've lived in austin for five months and just today i finally got ice cube trays. so...i'm wondering...in honor of curbing my procrastination/master rationalizing habits, maybe it would be better if i spent a few dollars here and there as needed instead of having a heart attack when i have to pay for everything at once. it kind of cancels out the glory of a paycheck if you spend it before you earn it.

this is why i'm single

before i begin, you should know that i have two major complexes. the first is thinking that people don't or won't remember me after a couple meets. the second is my height. i went on a couple dates with a guy who lost me after he made fun of my height.

i also am one who loves an occasion to dress a lil fancy. however, i can only fully enjoy it if i'm either headed to a destination with another person or if i can go from point A to point B with no stops. new york has trained me to believe that going out with a skirt and makeup equals catcalls, comments, and/or propositions. unfortunately for me last night, i not only headed to my destination solo, but i also had to make a quick stop on the way.

whilst i was waiting in line to pay, i hear out of the corner of my ear "oh, hold up, there's a beautiful lady next to you." now...it's hard for me to explain this, but i really hate this shit. i'm not being egotistical here, i was the only female with 8 other drunken males in the store, so this guy was obviously talking about me. this happens to me all the time -- a guy will loudly say something similar to this, hoping that that in itself will be so flattering to me that i'd turn around and engage him in conversation. however, i never respond to these attempts. i don't think it should be assumed that i'm standing around listening to all the conversations around me waiting to hear if someone thinks i'm hot. if somebody wants to talk to me, it would do them good to try and get my attention first.

alright so here i am not responding to this because for all i know, some beautiful lady could've walked in the store behind me and he's talking about her. or maybe he refers to his friends as beautiful ladies. it's not for me to decipher. then i hear him say 'what do you have going on tonight?' i don't answer because i am faced 180 degrees away from this person. he doesn't have my attention! i don't just walk through the aisles of the grocery stores answering questions i overhear. so then after my nonresponse, he says 'oh, so she's ignoring me.' this is the line that they always go to and it angers me to no end. it is also the line that i allow myself to acknowledge these people, because at this point i need to show that i am not being timid, i'm just being annoyed.

so i turn to him and i say "No, i just don't respond to someone unless they are directly addressing me" and i turn back around to face the cashier. of course all seven of his drunken friends are like "OHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" there are still two of his drunken friends in front of me in line. the cashier is enjoying this situation a little too much, but does give me a supportive smile of solidarity. at this point, i believe that i'm in the clear. i've acknowledged him. i've not shown interest. and again i am facing away from him. i just want to pay and get out. but give them an inch and they'll take a motherfucking mile. like that stalker i had.

so this guy is conversing with me like we're on our first date:

douche: Do we stink?

Me: (turns to look at this mass of large sweaty drunken menchildren.) Like liquor? (turns back to face away from them)

douche: well, yeah obviously, but body odor? we've been playing all day.

me: i can only smell liquor.

douche: We had an awesome day. We did some great stuff! We played about 54 holes of golf.

me: wow. impressive. (do i even need to note my sarcastic tone here? also, i am still not even facing or looking at these guys.)

douche: well. not real golf. disc golf. we're pretty lazy guys. we like to get a lot of beer, a shitload of kind bud, and just get fucked up and play all day.

non-douchey friend: dude! stop!

douche: what? she's not a cop.

non-douchey friend: just stop.

douche: she's too short to be a cop. (*please note that he is calling me short while i'm wearing boots with three inch heels. imagine if he'd seen how short i really am.)

non-douchey friend: dude. what is your problem?

douche: she's too short to be a cop! she can't be a cop. cops aren't short.

at this point, he moves from behind me to the left side of me, and sticks his head in close.

douche: you're not a cop right?

me: (scoffs and shakes head in disbelief.)

douche: see! she said it herself. she's not a cop because she's too short.

me: (leaves)

slappin' batman

my brother came across a pretty awesome site today, the Batman Comic generator, which takes a fantastic panel from an old batman comic, and allows you to fill in the dialogue. my brother challenged me to come up with one better than his. i started working on my first one as he sent me his. here is mine:



then i saw his:


and i decided that he is clearly going to win this one. he also came up with these little brill-os.

running tip

words of advice -- you probably shouldn't go for a run after a) having not gone in about two weeks because 2) you had a weird chest sickness that had you almost coughing your lungs out. especially if C) that was followed by maybe the horrid end to that chest illness or a attack of allergies or a different illness that prevented nose breathing the majority of the time, left your upper lip red raw and peeling, and/or forced you to keep little spitoon kleenexes everywhere just in case. even if you think this might be the last day of this illness, you've thought that for the last three days. wait a few more before hitting the old runnin' path again.

it was a beautiful day today. there's no sign of the arctic freeze of last weekend . i could actually breathe through my nose. sure, there was still need for a tissue every now and again, but not often. (if you're squeamish about boogs, you should skip ahead. i'm not gonna be graphic, i'm just sayin.) also, i felt like i could cough something out eventually, but whatever was residing back there just wasn't ready to come out. so i felt like it would be okay to try and start running again. i felt awesome on my first few steps. it was sunny but cool. my breath wasn't labored. my body wasn't sore from coughing. and then i hit the first hill. and breathing became eh...hard. and my lungs were all 'hey, we're just kind of getting back to not seizing at consistent periods throughout the day. chill.' but i pushed on at a slightly slower pace. then that little residual stuff that was hanging out decided to start a revolution. still not big enough for me to force out, but enough to make me emit noises with every breath. to refrain from sounding like an old fat man breathing, i would forcefully cough, which seemed to force it out of the way enough to not affect my breath intake.

i finally get to the last half mile of my run, which happens to contain the biggest hill on my run. this is so close to where i started, i just try to push myself. i'm breathing heavily and i feel that damn little spot of saliva acting up again. except this time, i feel it reaching gag zone. so i'm all, 'okay sara, just don't cough or sharply inhale through your noise and you'll be fine.' and then i cleared my throat. so here i am at the top of the hill, gagging, but i think i'm covering it well since my hands are over my mouth. i have briefly stopped running at this point because usually if i just stick it out, whatever is causing the problem gets cleared and i eventually can breathe again. except, the problem causer is still that same little whatever that isn't large enough to force out. so now it's making me emit horrid donkey noises. oh and i can't really catch a breath because of this, so as i'm gagging/making donkey noises/trying to get a breath of air, i'm thinking about how this is how i die.

i didn't die. i don't think anyone noticed. and i was able to finish the run. but i learned my lesson.

a chin on my shoulder

so this whole jay leno thing. a quick rundown if you don't know -- jay leno's primetime suckfest was canned after five months of low ratings. so now, nbc is offering the 11:35 time slot back to jay leno because they realized what a terrible idea it was to give five hours of primetime tv a week to a man that isn't funny. this, of course, is where conan is, and he was basically given the option of moving to midnight or getting the hell out.

ok first of all, this deal with conan--if i remember correctly--was made like 5 years ago. i remember thinking how far 2009 seemed and how i couldn't wait til conan started hosting the tonight show. this has been in the works for a long time. clearly, whoever was running nbc back then knew that jay leno's shtick was tired and unfunny and it was about time to get a change in the chair.

so then..what, like a year ago? it's announced that jay leno gets this primetime version of his show...because what? everyone loves jay leno? he had the top ratings in late night? nbc was so starved for ratings that they thought that losing jay leno and his late-night ratings to another network would spell the rest of their demise. when actually keeping him did. because look, top ratings in late night do not equal top ratings in primetime. late night is a routine for most people. i love conan, but i'll admit i don't watch the tonight show every night. i've only seen it a handful of times since he's taken over. at that time, i'm busy watching shit i dvr'd from primetime. the people that do watch late night talk shows i think make a point of watching it. so they'll usually be there. as long as you don't screw it up. maybe, nbc, if you hadn't saturated every night with four talk shows, essentially splitting your own ratings, you wouldn't be in this much trouble.

also..what were the fucking options back when they were making this deal? "Hmm, well, if we don't make a deal with Jay now, he's gonna walk to another network. And he's the highest rated late night host. So, that means we COULD POSSIBLY lose the only thing we're winning at. instead of risking that and backing the man we hired five years ago to do this job, let's keep jay doing essentially the same show at primetime. this way, we'll definitely lose the only thing we're winning at. and we'll screw up everything else that hasn't been affected yet. like local newscasts. fuck them. go jay."

i realize that when nbc made this deal with jay, it was for a long period of time. i understand that they probably couldn't have just canceled him...they would've had to buy out his contract. and the last place network probably can't afford that. i mean...they had to realize how this could blow up when they were hammering out the deal, right? and THEN! there was a quote the other day from jay leno after it came out his show was canceled. i'm paraphrasing here, but it was something like "yeah we had low ratings, but nbc also canceled me when i had the best ratings, so..." and it's like. no. jay fucking leno, nbc did not cancel you when you had the best ratings. SEVERAL years ago, they thought it would be a good idea to hire a new face. they made a deal with that person. and then with another person. and these two people changed their lives for this deal that was made a long time ago. their LIVES. conan moved across the country for this job. so that's not really canceling you, jay leno, it's more like you were given notice to find a new job, so you threw a big fit about it. and now nbc is screwed. and conan might be fleeing the network. good for him. and i never thought i'd say this, but i hope jimmy fallon comes out okay also.