What's More Unfortunate?

A. That I forgot to put my mascara on today-- which wouldn't have been a big deal except that for whatever reason I DID remember to put on my new eyelash "primer" (don't ask)--so I'd been at work for about 30 minutes before I noticed that I had white eyelashes.


or


B. That I just lied to a random guy in the back of a pickup truck who wanted my phone number by telling him I was married-- and the entire conversation was had in pantomime.

A May Day Pledge

Ok, so I am going to try something new-- I am going to try to post an update EVERY DAY in the month of May! (And not just cause saying that rhymed).

I can't promise it will be interesting, but I can almost guarantee that you are going to get way more information than you ever wanted to know about my visits to Target and the strange men who talk to me in parking lots-- not to mention all of the random thoughts that pass through my head. (aka the Unicorn comment as listed below)

Hold on to your hats people.

(Yes, that was sarcasm)

Proof that I Am a Dweeb

Today I got into a prolonged conversation with the cashier at Super Walmart about the varied flavors of Rotisserie Chicken available and what our preferences were. I think the low point was her enthusiasm about the fact that I found a "Buttery Garlic" chicken and me comparing it to seeing a Unicorn.

I am officially hopeless.

The Aggressive Mommy Syndrome

I've been noticing a troubling trend lately that I'm finally going to take the time to address-- but as I did with the last post, I feel the need to preface my comments with the following:

I love children. Anyone who knows me knows I love children. I like to believe that children enjoy me as well-- and I have it on good authority from a certain 2 year old in Nebraska that I am "not scary". I respect mothers. I'm in awe of their patience and resilience and the never ending nature of their work. I like to think that the mothers I know like and respect me. They have, on occasion, even dared to LEAVE their children with me for short and long periods of time.

To put it briefly? Sarah=Not a Baby or their Mama Hater

That being said....I have to address the aforementioned troubling trend I have noticed of late (mostly of random women I see on the street....NOT people I know just so we're clear)-- and that is the trend of the Aggressive Mommy. Now, don't misunderstand me..... I don't mean they are aggressive with their kids. No, no, no. The Aggressive Mommy is the woman that likes to engage in what I call "Abuse of Stroller Privileges"

Ever get tired of waiting for the cars to stop driving back and forth in the Walmart parking lot when you're trying to walk out to your car? Well, the Aggressive Mommy solves that problem by sticking her baby-filled stroller out front of her like a battering ram and just marching into traffic. After all, what sort of horrible person doesn't slam on their breaks when faced with the sight of a stroller through their windshield?

Ever get get a bruise on your shin while standing in a narrow aisle at Target? Well, it is your own fault for being in the path of the Aggressive Mommy who is using her double stroller to clear the row for her brood. She's got the mechanical girth to make you move and she's not afraid to use it.

Ever watch a woman with a stroller the size of a small SUV try to navigate the glass vase section at your local department store? The Aggressive Mommy lets everyone know that it is stupid corporate America's fault that the aisles are so narrow-- and it never occurs to her that she might use a smaller stroller and/or not take a toddler into the breakables section. That would be discrimination!

I don't know. Maybe I'm out of touch. Trust me-- I get that strollers are an important part of any mother's outing (especially with multiple children)...but at what point did they become a method for stopping traffic and herding people. Has it always been this way?

A Room with a STUPID View

Warning:
Literary/Movie Dork Out Ahead. If you can't handle it, don't read it!


So before I start my official rant-- you need a little background. When I was in high school I was obsessed with the movie A Room with a View (based on the novel by E.M. Forster). I cannot possibly begin to tell you how many times my best friend Heather and I watched that movie. We named things after the characters and I for one became completely enamored of Florence. (It was sort of an Italian perfect storm when I also read The Agony and The Ecstasy about Michealangelo at the same time). For those that don't know-- A Room with a View is the love story of Lucy Honeychurch (a straight-laced English girl) and George Emerson (a poor, socialist, atheist, young English chap with no real sense of tact) who meet when they stay at the same hotel in Florence (I think the year is around 1910 but I don't remember for sure).

I know I'm probably boring some of you off your rockers-- but I'm telling you this so you can understand just how much Masterpiece Theater JACKED UP the new version of it. Maybe I'm so annoyed about it because I was so excited to see it-- but they just completely botched it.

First of all, the whole point of George's character in the book is that he is eccentric, slightly sullen, always brutally honest and very VERY charismatic. In the new version? He seems to be slightly daft in a way that you really can't imagine Lucy falling in love with him. She seems much more likely to try to teach the poor fellow how to find his way to the local home for special people.

The also managed to imply (it is subtle but it is there) that the local clergyman is a closeted homosexual who is the only one that realizes that Lucy's fiance is also a homosexual ("bachelor for life" is how they phrased it I believe). (note to Heather: They made Mr Beebe and Cecil gay!)

Also? It is distracting when you raid the cast of the Harry Potter movies for your cast.

But all of that pales in comparison to the ultimate sin of this movie. They KILL George Emerson. They send him off to die in World War 1 (apparently). Lucy ends up on her own, as a widow, wandering around Florence "remembering". CHEAP THEATRICAL TRICK.

Way to butcher the novel Andrew Davies. You and your screenplay may have given us Colin Firth as Mr Darcy back in the day-- but I just don't know that you can recover my "adaption" trust after this.

Wonderful Verson:


Stupid Version:

Rock Chalk Jayhawk

KU-- 2008 NCAA Champions!!!!!


It was an unbelievable game that officially gave me a stroke.

Yay!

Welcome to the world Nolan Daniel Baker!!

Men and Remotes

There are many nice things about being single that are often overlooked-- one of which is that I have complete control over all of my electronics including the remote control. This was true until yesterday, anyway. What happened yesterday you ask? Well, it is quite simple-- the Cox Cable Man came to visit.

Now don't get me wrong-- I was thrilled that he was able to come out a day before their original estimate (to fix the cable that I later found out had been broken BY THEM the previous week while I was gone...but that is another story). I was even happy to stay in my house for the 4 hour window of opportunity they gave me just so I could have my DVR and internet capabilities returned to me. But it would have been nice if fixing the cable was ALL he did.

Perhaps to best explain my visit with the Cable Man (who incidentally was the spitting image of Don Cheadle in sunglasses), I should transcribe our initial interaction:



Setting: Sarah's living room

Sarah: (sitting on the couch reading-- cause without internet or TV what else was she going to do? CLEAN? I think not)

Doorbell: "Ring! Ring!"

Sarah: (hops up with a disproportionate amount of enthusiasm, opens door)

Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike:......... (stands 4 feet back from the door and stares at Sarah in silence)

Sarah: "Hi!" (moves back while holding the door open to indicate he is welcome to come in)

Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike:.......... (makes no move from where he is still standing about 4 feet back from the door)

Sarah: "Uh, would you like to come in?" (makes a Vanna Whiteish sweeping gesture towards the TV in the living room)

Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike:.......... (somewhere crickets begin to chirp)

Sarah: ........ (raises eyebrows)

Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike: "You got cut" (He speaks!)

Sarah: "What?"

Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike: "You got cut"

Sarah: "Am I supposed to know what that means?" (and also? No duh!)

Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike:"Blah Blah Blah...." (proceeds to give a big long explanation the point of which is that I have no cable because the previous cable man that came out to help one of my neighbors was a moron)


Now, I don't know if the above truly conveys the awkward idiocy of our initial meeting, but I was prepared to give Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike a chance. He disappeared for about 30 minutes before coming back up to see if the cable was back on. And that's when it happened-- Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike took over my electronics. The tipping point, I think, was when he realized that I had not programmed my Cable Remote to work on my television set. (And can I just point out here that it isn't that I don't know HOW-- I have done it many times before-- I just didn't care!) Anyhoo-- from that point on, it was a 10 minute free for all. Before I realized what was happening, he changed all of the settings on my cable box and DVR. He changed the settings on my television. He even changed the COLOR SCHEME of my DVR to some weird Hunter/Camo display (instead of the purple I'm rather fond of). I spent 45 minutes after he left just trying to figure out what all he did so I could undo some of it.

And (as this post so clearly indicates)-- I'm still annoyed about it! It was as if once he realized there wasn't a "man" in control of the electronics, he thought he could do whatever he wanted. Cable Man/Don Cheadle look alike-- you abused your position!

The Weirdness Continues...

Today a Tibetan monk flirted with me. And I'm pretty sure I accidentally flirted back.

A Photo and a Request I Never Thought I'd Have To Make

In keeping with the thrilling nature of the last post, I thought I'd start this update with the view from my hotel room in Qingdao (which I have now learned is pronounced "Chingdao", incidentally). The hotel was a complete unknown, so we weren't sure what to expect-- but it has been a lovely surprise. I'm kind of sad we only get one night here since I actually got my first full night's sleep in the giant king size bed here. (Nothing beats jet lag like sheer exhaustion!).





I'm told the ocean is around here some place (apparently the Olympics sailing competition is supposed to take place here) but I've yet to see it. The hotel is very new, and the word "eager" doesn't quite seem to do the employees here justice. I think we had a team of 7 or 8 checking in 3 of us yesterday. I thought one guy was going to try and hold my hand on the way to the room just to make sure I got there safely. It was a bit like being in a parade.


And now on to the request:

To anyone who will ever be on a long haul flight (say from London to Hong Kong, for instance) in the near or far future: Please, please, PLEASE leave your pants on. I know the airline gives you a blanket-- but that is for putting OVER your clothes. It is not, I repeat NOT for wrapping around your waist like a bathroom towel so that you can prance around business class like you are at toga party while your jeans sit crumpled up on the floor by your seat. And if you ARE going to use your towel for the aforementioned unspeakable purpose-- do NOT make the change while standing IN your seat, and do NOT adjust your blanket while standing in the aisle to get a "tighter wrap"-- because you are involving innocent parties across the aisle and giving them glimpses of things (such as tighty-whities) that they would rather not have! And you will make them take pictures of your jeans crumpled up on the floor (that don't turn out very well since they can't be obvious and use their flash lest they reveal themselves to be the type of person that takes pictures on planes) and post them on the internet!

Nothing Interesting To Say, Part 1 (Czech Republic Edition)

So I can't really think of anything terribly interesting to report at this point, so I thought I would share a picture and a question with you all.



Here's the view from my hotel "mini balcony" (which is just big enough for two feet and an ashtray-- already provided-- so very European!)





Fascinating stuff, right?



And now on to my question-- which incidentally is in no way related to the above picture:

Does anyone know what "Steak from Chicken Legs" is?

Procrastination is an Art

It is that time again-- time for me to be packing for a work trip.....and yet what am I doing? Well, other than laundry....nothing productive. So, in the spirit of doing anything and everything but what I should be doing....I present to you a list of random facts about the last few days:

*Yesterday morning when I was walking out to my car a bird fell like a rock out of tree about 6 inches in front of me. That, understandably, made me yelp. It wasn't until that same bird tried to fly up my skirt that I really shrieked.

*Today at lunch I randomly remembered the time in 5th grade when I found our class pet, a Guinea Pig named Snowball, dead in his cage. And then our teacher decided to truly make it an educational experience by bringing a vet in THAT afternoon to dissect Snowball in front of the class. I didn't excuse myself to go to the nurse until the vet broke out his little teensy saw and started sawing the skull open so we could see the brain. Looking back on the story as an adult-- I wonder several things:

1. What was the thought process that led our teacher to the belief that the best way to help a bunch of 5th graders deal with the death of a beloved class pet would be to watch the aforementioned pet be systematically dismembered and gutted?

2. Where on earth did she find a vet that would come in at the last minute like that and bring his tools along so as to be able to better traumatize young children?

3. Would a teacher today be able to do something like that without getting in trouble?

4. What did our baby Guinea Pig, Joey, think about the whole thing?



*If any of you doubt me on the above story, Heather can back me up. She was there too!

*Matt Damon has agreed to do a 4th Bourne movie. I am happy. This is all.


*Jon Stewart is officially the most awesome Oscar host EVER for letting Markita Irglova give her acceptance speech for "Falling Slowly" from Once after the stupid orchestra dude cut her off.


*Random question of the day: Since when can "Fran" be a boy name? Did I miss that memo?

The Unknown Kryptonite! (This post is for the girls!)

As some of you know (and are highly amused by), I've had a bit of a problem over the years while making the occasional trip to Super Walmart. I seem to have a strange ability to draw attention from the sort of men who sometimes feel compelled to, uhm, well, let's say they like to compliment me. (And if you think I'm bragging about that fact with this post, well then, you just need to have faith that these aren't the guys you really WANT complimenting you and leave it at that).

I'm positive I'm not the only woman who has had this problem over the years-- and tonight I realized something amazing-- something very freeing. There is apparently one special thing that can render you totally invisible to all men-- even the creepy ones!!

So what is this miracle phenomenon, you wonder?

Drum roll please...............



BRAIDS!!!






On second thought-- maybe it was the crazy look on my face. Mental note: From now always take the braids AND the crazy face!

I am an Addict and Masterpiece Theater is My Dealer

It is time for another true confession. For the past month, I have been a complete glutton. And what has been my poison, you ask? It was just over a month or so ago that PBS started "The Complete Jane Austen". That's right-- once a week they have been delivering a new version of each of Austen's novels on Masterpiece Theater. The main exception to that so far seems to be that they are reshowing the classic version of Pride and Prejudice instead of a new one. (But really, when you have Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy for 6 hours, why on earth would you bother filming ANOTHER mini-series? )

My point is this-- it's set me on a binge. Once a week is now not enough. I'm rereading the novels (again). I'm watching the movie versions that I own too. And just now? PBS really pulled a low blow-- they showed a MONTAGE of the scenes from the new movies they are playing to the soundtrack of COLDPLAY. Evil! They are EVIL GENIUSES!!

So why? Why does she suck me in so much? It's so cliche to be a woman and obsessed with Jane Austen. I mean, they made an entire movie about THAT too!

But I can't help it. Jane Austen is crack.

Happy Day Before The Day After the 14th Day of The Second Month of 2008

I'm starting to wonder if the world is tiring of celebrating the day before the day after the 14th Day of the second month of the year. Usually Carol the front desk receptionist at work is buried behind a mountain of flowers and chocolate. But today? Not so much. And it leaves me to ponder if people's attachment to the middle of February is waning.

Cloverfield: The Lesson?

I saw Cloverfield this weekend with my friend Andrew. It was an interesting combination of entertaining and traumatizing. The most unexpected reaction I had to it, though, was laughter.....and that was because I couldn't help but notice that the moral of the story seems to be this:

For some men, the only way they can get in touch with their emotions and admit they might be in love is for them to be caught in the center of a massive attack on New York City by a monster of unknown origins. Nothing says romance like immanent death!

Andrew didn't seem as amused as I was by my observation.

Back to Nature

I thought I would share a couple of pictures from my trip to prove that Cheryl and I took our "we're not going to care what we look like while climbing Mayan ruins in the rain forest" philosophy quite seriously.


This picture is shortly before I climbed the insanely tall and steep ruin behind me




This picture is shortly after I finally made my way back down---not very gracefully. You can't see my legs, but they were shaking....kind of pathetic, actually.

Belize It Or Not

Yes, the title is unfortunate, but I just couldn't help myself.

Tomorrow morning I'm leaving for a long weekend away (is this what the Brits call a "mini break"?). I'm super excited because I have no earthly idea what to expect, but I'm landing in Belize City in the afternoon (knock on wood) and we'll take it from there!

I've decided this is as opportune a moment as any other to tell my friends and family something I've been meaning to say for some time. You know, just in case I get kidnapped into the jungle or eaten by a crocodile or die of fright when I think I see a shark that really turns out to be a swimming cow (you don't want to know).

Anyhoo.

I'm leaving and I just want you all to know something very important: please, if something dramatic and/or newsworthy happens to me while I'm gone.....can you just make sure that the news media has a decent picture of me? I don't mean to be vain, but has anyone else noticed that whenever something happens to people, the pictures of them up at CNN or MSNBC are always completely dreadful? Who is in charge of this process?

Yes, I realize this is stupid and inconsequential in the long run.....but I would really rather people think "Oh, that's so sad. Look at those freckles, she was so cute! And young! She had the world in front of her!" as opposed to "Oh, that's so sad. But look at those bags under her eyes. And why is she scowling like that? Oh well. No wonder she was single."

I'm not unreasonable. My main requests are as follows:

1. No senior pictures (yes, at this point they are INCREDIBLY dated, but I feel this needs to be said as my mother has shown an irrational attachment to them)

2. No bridesmaid pictures (this needs no explaining)

3. No pictures of me looking at the camera with a "why are you taking that?" expression

4. No pictures of me scowling off into space and/or looking blankly off into space (again, my mother has shown a propensity for taking this type of photo....of course she might argue that this is what I'm doing 90% of the time so what else is she supposed to take a picture of....but she would be lying....I'm sure I must smile off into space SOMETIMES)

See? Not so hard. And if you all help me out, I won't have to haunt anyone. Everyone wins.

(and for those of you who are wondering and don't know-- yes, I have always been this morbid)

Wii Be Sore

So my intention for the last few days has been to write a post detailing my objections to a new and dangerous game being played by America...to warn you all about the lurking danger that you may never see coming. That's right, I'm talking about the Nintendo Wii


I may have spent a Friday evening a week or so ago basking in my new found athletic prowess......I might have felt I was so advanced and in shape because I managed to beat a 7 year old and a 9 year old in subsequent boxing matches (though my niece might never forgive me if I didn't interrupt myself at this point to tell you that she "didn't try her hardest")......and I may have been so proud of myself when I bowled a somewhat adequate game on my first try......and there may have been a surge of pride when I manage to hit a bullseye with a digital tennis ball. I may have experienced all those things, but you know what I definitely felt the next day? SORE. Horribly, horribly sore. Ridiculously sore. My arms wanted to fall off sore.

And so I was all prepared to write you all a warning post with your best interests in mind. I wanted to save you all the trials and tribulations faced by me. And then something happened.

I went to brunch yesterday with two friends (what? I can go to brunch every now and then) and they were telling me all about how the Nintendo Wii has become ALL the rage at the local retirement village. They have one on every floor. The residents have tournaments and love it.

So this is me NOT writing a post telling you all about the dangers of the Nintendo Wii-- because then I would have to admit I am apparently the oldest 30 year old on the planet.

Consider yourself not warned.

A Belated Christmas Present Part One

I bring you a window into Christmas Past (2005ish) and some of my favorite Christmas clips ever

Take One




Take Two: A Few Moments Later