Category Archives: Conversations

On Mother Nature, Tacos, and being a great “angry New Yorker”

If you aren’t female, you probably shouldn’t read this.


Turn back now.

This is a bad idea.


Just stop.

But if you ARE female and have had those special talks with Mother Nature that delve into your finest and most well kept insults, slurs, and vituperations full of vibrant language only a sailor could be proud of, then please do continue and unite in a universal detestation of that loathsome bitch we love to hate.

If you are like a good portion of the population out there you have both met and gotten very friendly and comfortable with birth control. That lovely little pill that makes it okay to hate condoms! And when I say tiny, I am NOT exaggerating. I mean, really! We get it, birth control is frowned upon and we don’t want the world knowing we are sexually active – modesty, and all that jazz – but why do you have to make it so easy to lose? What is the thinking behind that?…Oh, so you wanna GO AGAINST THE WISHES OF THE ALL POWERFUL BEING?? Fine. But don’t expect it to be easy. You whore!

So you take this teeny, tiny, super pill that gives you the ability to alter your body into a state of confusion so great that it thinks it is with child and treats you extra special because, well, there are myriad reasons why a person might treat you special!…don’t make me spell them all out for you. But eventually the reason we all end up continuing to take it is because we know it will save us from anything untoward happening.  However, untowardness aside, an attention whore is still a whore, girls.  You don’t need that extra special treatment from your BC to know you are loved!  I want all of you to get up right now, stand in front of a mirror, and hug yourself.  Go, my little minions.

…did you do it? No?!? Yeah, me neither.  But it’s the thought that counts. *air high five* You go girl! You THOUGHT about it!  Anyway, back to BC – For many years you are accustomed to keeping a close eye on the time lest you have to excuse yourself to swallow the microscopic super power, and you don’t ever go anywhere without it because you and your BC must be one.  Without it, well…you, boy, and baby could make three, and what an impressive quantitative equation for only one night. One plus one equals…what?  THREE??? What madness is this?? Oh, that’s right.  It is the law according to THE ALL POWERFUL BEING.  Remember kids, you can only control so much and nothing is 100%.  But you keep taking it and relying on it and…not having any real clue what it is doing to your body.  Until that fateful day when you forget to take it for three days in a row, which brings me to my situation.  Suddenly, and rather unexpectedly, my breast began to throb with pain, swell, and form a lovely lump resulting in my paying 600 dollars in doctors bills to find out that it is “hormones.”  Fuck. That. Threw those left over bitches in the trashcan and have been BC-less for almost two months now.  You know what?  It doesn’t suck as bad as I thought it might.  Yes, my back does hurt significantly more (the easing of the back pain is why I originally began taking it in High School when I was so sexually inactive that I would have made a great abstinence billboard) but that seems to be the only downside.  Except for the raging bitch epidemic.  But I’ll get to that later.

This all brings me to my Jesus talk with Mother Nature and it went a little something like this:

MN:  Okay, I know I make life a living hell for you for a week, and I’d like to make it up to you.

Me:  Fuck you. I don’t trust you.

MN:  I understand.  I haven’t been kind to you in your life.  And I feel genuinely bad about that.

Me:  Damnit! I left my wellies at home.  Would you mind cutting back on the bullshit?

MN:  I know you have lost your appetite and your sex drive  – two things you have always been proud of – and I would like to help you get them back.

Me:  Make your point, you bitch.

MN:  That’s my point.  I’m going to give them back to you once every month.

Me:  Oh. My. God.

MN:  Now instead of having something to dread all week, you will have something to look forward to!

Me:  Please tell me that you’re fucking with me.

MN:  Is that your way of saying “thank you?”


MN:  ….

Me:  AND!! …And! You are going to let me eat during the one week that I feel the most disgusting and don’t want to want to eat?

MN:  ….

Me:  This is you being nice?

It never ends well when we get together but we have yet to completely cut ties.  I suppose that means I actually love her….whatever.  This conversation took place not long before my birthday rolled around and people started asking me what I wanted to for birthday dinner.  Food?  At a time like this?  Who did they think I was?? Oh, I know!! ME! That’s who they thought I was!! The person who can eat an entire pizza by herself and follow it up with ice cream and salt infested potatoes.  Exactly how was I to explain to everyone that I could no longer be at the top of the eating contest list?  That I physically could not eat?  The answer is, I couldn’t.  Nobody wanted to believe me because, well, watching a “skinny” girl eat is apparently always a treat.  People.  Keep.  Feeding.  Me.  It may seem as though I am complaining, but how can a monetarily challenged person refuse free food?  You can’t. You just can’t. So, here my friends think I still have my normal appetite and I begin to accidentally horde food at work. Sometimes I go to work with a practically empty lunchbox and come home with some food.  It’s awesome.

On one particular day a coworker brought me three tacos which I promptly put in my lunchbox, fantasizing about the lovely taco dinner I would be having when I got home. Unfortunately, when I got home, my stomach was not as excited about the tacos as I was and I was only able to enjoy a few bites before my stomach protested. But I wanted that damn taco so I made him shut up until I was finished. My stomach can be so dramatic! So, into the fridge the two leftover tacos, conveniently packaged to cover my next two meals…damn you stomach. Later that night, while dead asleep, I was awoken by a rustle. A paper rustle.  A paper rustle that sounded suspiciously like a taco wrapper. I yelled out at roommate, “are you eating my taco?!?” The look on that mans face when he came in eating my taco…priceless. It was three in the morning, I woke from a dead sleep, and proceeded to yell at poor roomie. It was like watching a puppy back into a corner – this was only the beginning of the raging bitch I mentioned earlier. With little to no provocation, I was making men quiver. Thanks Mother Nature, you know how to make a girl feel super awesome *thumbs up!* Soon I was capable of making every living creature I encountered fully grasp why I was so vehement about my ability to emulate the stereotypical “angry New Yorker” when I witnessed an injustice being done to someone I felt protective over. No longer did I need any kind of provocation to yell out a string of perfectly placed obscenities mixed in with some semblance of a sentence mostly hidden by the insult baring its ugly teeth.  All I needed was a little oxygen.  Apparently.

If you made it through all that, I applaud you.  It felt very meander-y. Because I wander.  Anywho…

May your days be filled with tacos that aren’t eaten, cathartic conversations with imaginary beings, and lots of serotonin to fill the gaps.



Step #3 – Love is so close you can almost feel it!

Two fail dates and several conversations with POF “matches” later we come to fail date number three which is sadly not as interesting but probably the fail-y-est of fails.  He, as a person, I’m sure, is a very fine specimen of male…just not the specimen for me.

Fail Date Guy #3
To begin with I knew he wasn’t my type based on his pictures but, as I said in Step #1, I was trying to be more open minded and had not yet learned from my mistake in Step #1 so I wasn’t listening to the little voice in my head that kept erupting into paroxysms of laughter over my complete lack of dating competence.  Want to know the only reason I even answered his message on POF?  Because he was tall.  I swear.  That was the only reason.  Clearly this was doomed from the beginning.  I didn’t find him attractive, didn’t particularly like the conversations we had, and it took him a good three weeks to finally ask if I wanted to meet up.  Usually I get so fed up with carrying on in long conversations that I suggest meeting up after only a few exchanged messages; but for some reason, with him, I let it slide.  Okay, really!  Barely a paragraph into this and I already realize this was all my fault.  Poor guy…never stood a chance.  As Mr. Perfect pointed out to me in a recent discussion I am the bitch, the men are all fine.  I couldn’t deny that one, I knew it was the truth, but these still make for interesting reads.  And, honestly, who does that?  And by “that” I mean the things I pick out to share with you lucky readers!  Please, comment with corrections if I’m wrong, but what these guys do isn’t kosher, is it? (If you haven’t read Step #1 and Step #2 yet, please do and let me know because I am genuinely curious.  Am I just asking too much?  Is this in fact normal male behavior?)

So, three weeks and an uncomfortable amount of superficial conversation later, we have a date set up that we both agree will be very short.  He didn’t explain why he wouldn’t stay long but I knew I didn’t want it to go on for very long because of fail dates #1 and #2 – subtlety is not my strong suit and the longer I am around someone that I dislike the more difficult it becomes to hold on to the few tiny shreds of restraint I have remaining.  I become blunt with unfiltered speech which translates into being a royal, haughty bitch.  It’s actually quite impressive if you are used to my usual bubbly, affable self.  I can switch bitch mode on and off quickly, it’s a gift!

As soon as I got off work I headed to the meeting place that I had to come up with since, apparently, POF men are incapable of making decisions.  There I sat, alone at the bar, hoping that the hour I had to wait for him to get off work would pass swiftly and painlessly.  The bar began to fill up and soon I was not sitting alone and happy, I was instead flanked by one foul smelling gentleman and one obnoxious frat-tastic bachelor suffering a mid-life crisis.  Where before I had been content texting my soulmate and joking about how odd it must look for someone to be sitting alone and talking/laughing to themselves, I was now dealing with attempting to not overhear the crude comments coming from Mr. Mid-Life Crisis and practicing breathing through my mouth so I would be able to finish my beer without gagging off the stench emanating from the foul smelling gentleman.

Not soon enough my date informed me that he was finally off work and headed my way but asked how the bar was…how was the bar?  Well…how to put it?  I believe I responded with something like, “it was good when I got here but it is getting crowded.  I am no longer sitting alone!” Being the gentleman that he was he suggested switching venues and asked if I had any suggestions. Sure. Why not? Let me make another decision for you, dear sir.

I hadn’t planned on taking him to my bar knowing all that would occur was judgment from my friends but I was already fed up with him so I gave my suggestion. He agreed quickly enough but confessed he didn’t know where it was (even though he had already mentioned that he worked down the street from it…meaning he passed it every day) so he would still meet me where I was and then he would follow me to the final destination. (<– get it?!? okay, okay, I know. I’m a dork.)

As I continue to sit at the bar I shift my gaze between the bartender whose attention I am desperately attempting to capture and the door whose opening and closing could potentially mean time for a great escape from my none too pleasant neighbors. Twenty minutes later my tab is paid, my glass is empty, and I no longer care who is walking through the door because all I want to know is how it is taking him so long if he was actually where he said he was. And then my phone buzzes. It’s him. He is sitting in the parking lot waiting for me to come out.

What. The. Fuck?

The minute I open the door I see him in his champagne compact, idling across the way, staring at his phone. Feeling a tad creepy I walk up to his window and cough to get his attention. After pointing out my car and once again establishing that he would follow me, we make our exit. Unfortunately it was prime traffic time and what should have take five minutes took twenty and I had lost all patience by the time parking was completed.

Upon finally picking out a booth and ordering our drinks I was able to fully observe (and, if I am being COMPLETELY honest, judge) my newest suitor. There was unfortunately nothing I found attractive about him. Generally beards give me a little happy feeling in my nether regions but this one was attached to a face that I couldn’t even invent any good will towards. He reminded of my moms best friend’s husband growing up. This is not good. Not good at all. You don’t want someone that reminds you of the father of your first ever crush (I was young and he was older and basically the only male I knew since I was home schooled and spend 90% of my time in the gym practicing gymnastics…it’s awkward, I know) in almost every way including the way his lips slowly moved across his disturbingly large teeth as he smiled. Or smirked. I honestly couldn’t distinguish.

I can’t say that the conversation was in any way lacking but what was lacking was his ability to show emotion. He had one face and he kept it on practically the whole time. The only effect alcohol had on him was to make his mouth open just a tad bit wider when he spoke as if the more he opened his mouth the funnier he would be because he seemed amused by himself when this would happen.  Somehow we made it so far in conversation that my Elf showed up to work and we ended up moving from the booth to the patio bar where she was working. At this point his charm really began to work its magic. You know that line that every bartender has heard more than once on a daily basis.  The one that makes everyone around the offending person it groan? The one that goes a little something like, “you don’t need a tip! You get to look at me!” The look Elf and I shared could have turned him to stone had we made better use of it.

You're an idiot...

You’re an idiot…

And then, after his knee slapper he throws his head back and lets out a high pitched cackle which I think was supposed to be a laugh but it was so disturbing that I immediately attempted to eliminate all memory of it. Clearly it didn’t work. I will never forget the sound that man made. I fear for my personal and physical safety. THIS is my dating life…

When I just couldn’t take any more, and we each had three shots and shared chips and queso, I decided to end the date. And then this happened:  I was given the honor of paying for everything that we had consumed both liquid and solid at the patio bar. I am one lucky girl. Can I tell you how much I enjoy paying for things that other people ordered for me? It tickles my fancy! Also, I wanted to kill him. Once again though, as with Fail dates #1 and #2, he did not get the hint. He texted me on the way home and said he had a great time and would love to do it again. I responded with, “I don’t really think so. Sorry.” And that was the night I decided I was done with dating. Period! Over it!

Until the next guy that came up to me at the bar *coughcough* I keep my word so well…

So, where does this leave us?

Step 3: When you feel absolutely no connection to the person and you can’t for the life of you pick out one redeeming quality about the person after an hour, go home. Don’t waste either one of your time. Quit while you’re ahead and admit defeat. It is much better than spending $60 dollars at the end of the night on a person who makes a pretty good doppelganger for every corporate America clone in existence. There is nothing wrong with admitting that you don’t like a person.

Now that I have proved that dating is not my cup of tea I think cutting my losses would be a good idea. That is until I meet this next guy that will bring me to fail date #4. He is the best one yet. Mr. Perfect LOVED this guy!! It was a mutual attraction.


May your week be filled with blasphemous actions, sanguine expectations, and lost inhibitions.

Love Songs, Coffee, and Hood Rock. My Best Friend is Better Than Yours. does she still love me?  She's a keeper!!


Thursday was an interesting day for me because it started out über depressing and then I hit a wall and went full on crazy, which is to say I was completely myself, and decided to text my soulmate every little thing that popped into my head.  I thought I should share with the world the shit this poor girl puts up with and still somehow stays my friend.

Me: I’m in such a bad mood today.  I thought it was Friday on Tuesday so this week sucks.  I am buying three bottles of wine tomorrow and killing them this weekend.

N: O.o

Me: I’m in serious I-miss-HIM mode and love songs keep playing.

N:  Grrr…NOOOO

Me:  I KNOW!!! But I can’t help it.  He is the only person I’ve loved.

Me:  Oh thanks Cheap Trick. You are so funny.  I Want You To Want Me just came on. Fuck you radio.

N: Calm down.

Me: I am calm.  I’m just sad.

(new song comes on)

Me: The Roots be all, “fuck yo bad mood! We gon’ make you smile, boo.” Thanks Roots, I love ya’ll too.

Me: We’ve got you surrounded!

N: Lmfao you crack me up

Me: 😀 I’m so ADD when I’m moody.  My negativity keeps multiplying itself into positivity. I can’t even keep up. I keep getting in line for the same roller coaster but I swear to god it’s a different ride each time.

N: Bahahahahahahaha

N: We should seriously work together Bahahahahaha

Me: I KNOW!!! It would be so bad it would be good!

Me: Mmmm bubbles!

Me: If you were a train I’d ride you. Choo choo!

Me: If the walls were padded I’d be bouncing off of them. But who am I kidding? I don’t need pads!!! FREEEEEDDDOOOOOMMM!!!! I need a drink.

Me: Or Xanax. Oh! Both.

N: Jesus Sara, no more coffee for you

Me: Oooh coffee! There’s more in the breakroom! Good idea! Wait…what? Pickles!

N: I has cuppy cakes 🙂

Me: I has…not 😦

Me: Cupcake! cupcake! cupcake! Bandito! Hwhhhhaaaattt???

Me: Back to the lab again, yo!

Me: My freewriting would be epic!

Me: I think if elephants had wings they would be like chickens.

N: You are so off of it today.

Me: Whatever. I am so on. Like a flickering lightbulb!

Me: If I was in a math problem I would be an imaginary number. You just have to accept that I exist. If you don’t try and figure out why I am then I make sense!

N: What is the District of Columbia. I understand it’s our capital, but why is it District of Columbia?

Me: Gooood question. Google that shit.

Me: I think it’s its own entity.

N: I figured you would know.

Me: Never took the time to look it up…

Me: If I was a rock and someone said “rock and roll!” I’d be like, “bitch I ain’t gots too.  I just am. AND I can roll. What now?” I would also be gangsta. Hood.  Hood Rock. Oooo! Like Hard Rock but different.

Me: I’d “rock” a bandana. Hahahaha Omg. That needs to be an adult cartoon.

Me: It could be like Schoolhouse Rock but in a really inappropriate way.

Me: We could teach “How to Perform Proper Fellatio” and “What to do When a Cop Be Trippin.”

Me: The cops would be paper. Hahaha

Me: And the rocks would carry around scissors

Me: When Rocks go rogue. The epic showdown battle begins! “Wanna dance?!?!”

M: You poor thing. I don’t know how you put up with me.

N: Lmfao I just picked up my phone and I had 11 text messages from you.

Me: 🙂 Sowwy

N: Lol it’s ok. I laughed 😛 you’re hilarious

Me: I’m now considering writing a pilot episode and giving it to the owner of the studio I work for to see what he thinks lol

N: lmfao

Me: The opening credit song could be “Rollin’ Dirty” instead of ridin’

Me: I’ll have to change my name to Shaquisha so people won’t know a white girl wrote it.

N: lmao

Me: -Dafuq’s a white girl doin in da hood?-I be straight pimpin!
-Bitch, no you ain’t! Go back to da mall.

Me: You have been subjected to the inner workings of my mind all day. You deserve a medal.

N: I freaking love you


Notice how most of the time she didn’t really respond, mostly just accepted it and went on with her day?  She is amazing.  Like, she should be canonized for reals.  Also, she should probably stop saying I’m funny, because I am going to start believing her.  I asked Mr. Perfect and he shrugged and said, “you’re amusing.”  Amusing is not funny.  Amusing is similar to going to the zoo to watch the monkeys.  Maybe I’m like a zoo monkey.

After all that madness the ADD continued and when I got home I almost jumped the curb and parked on the front lawn instead of in the street because I was distracted by some squirrels who were having way too much fun without me.

Sometimes I’m not quite sure how I have made this far in life.

I will leave you with my latest in brilliant realizations:

Life Lesson from Sara #25:
Sometimes getting the soap out of the dispenser is like giving a hand job. You just have to keep pumping until it comes out.
Just. Keep. Pumping.

Deuces ,ya’ll!

A soulmate is forever

This post is dedicated to my soulmate and will be quite lengthy so be warned.  However, it will be worth the read; especially if you, too, have someone as special as she is in your life…maybe you can share it with them and remind them of how amazing they are.

If you follow my blog at all you have probably already read a lot about her but I’m not sure if I ever related the story from the beginning so, here goes…

I have known N for two years and two months and she was my best friend almost from day one.  We both ended up at a football watching party at a mutual friends house and she was one of the first people I was introduced to.  I knew nobody else there and for some reason she and I clicked.  We talked most of the night, realized we had a extraordinary amount of things in common, and left as Facebook friends so we could keep in touch.  And we did.  Immediately.  Once phone numbers were exchanged there was no going back.  The world was officially doomed – we were a force to be reckoned with.

In no time she was my go to girl.  Any time I had a problem or any time she had a problem we were there for each other.  I had never had someone in my life like her.  I could tell her anything and I did.  In no time at all she knew everything about me and I trusted her completely.  In our two years we have not fought once.  At times we get annoyed with each other but mostly when one of us is depressed and hating on ourselves.

She was there for me through every fight I had with HIM, every time HE disappeared, every ache, every tear, every. last. thing.  She was always there to remind me that it wasn’t my fault.  That he would come back.  That I was doing everything I could.  That something wasn’t right.  I needed to get out.  But most importantly, she always reminded me that she loved me and would always be there for me and support any decision I made, even though at that time most of my decisions were the wrong ones.  This girl has kept me alive more times than she knows.  There have been times where she (unfortunately) literally talked me off the ledge.  Having N in my life has kept me from doing so many bad things to myself that I have no idea where I would be without her.  I don’t even know that I would still be alive today if I hadn’t met her.  I suppose in some small way I have to believe in fate because she and I were meant to be.

N is a part of me.  I think about her every day.  I talk to her nearly every day.  I feel her.  When she is down and I’m not I can tell.  When I am down and she isn’t she knows it.  We often send each other texts asking what’s wrong out of the blue because we just know.  One time I had a dream that she was awake, holding her baby, and crying.  When I woke up I saw that I just got a text from her saying exactly what I had dreamed.  There is a connection between us that I can’t explain but I know that she completes me.  Without her I no longer make sense.  She gives me a reason to smile when I feel like the only thing I can do is cry.  She makes sense of the world when it is crumbling down around me.  She keeps me going.  She gives me hope.

Over the course of the years I have had conversations with close friends – friends that held the title of “best” for only as long as our friendship ended up lasting – about how we would be a bridesmaid at each others wedding.  Or maybe one of us even made it as high up as Maid of Honor.  N and me?  No, we went past weddings straight to nursing homes.  We are already planning out the shenanigans we will get into once we share a room in a nursing home.  We never talk about our weddings, but that is probably because 1) I have no desire to get married at this point in time and if I ever DO get married it will be in Vegas, all the money will be spent on the after party, not the ceremony, and 2) N isn’t one for being the center of attention.  That, and no guy will ever be good enough  for her, but that’s just in my less than humble opinion!

N is the best kind of person out there and the best person I have ever met.  I am the luckiest girl in the world to have her as my soulmate and to be able to count on her no matter what.  She is the most selfless person I know – she gives and gives even when she has nothing left to give.  She loves without limits.  She cares about everyone and always lends a helping hand even if it isn’t asked of her.  She always tries her hardest at everything she does and never thinks it is enough.  She is always trying to better herself.  She is an amazing mother, friend, sister, and daughter.  She puts us all to shame.

There are often days when I wonder how it was that I got through so many years without her.  When I am down or confused I don’t even have to talk to her anymore, just knowing that she is there helps.  It also helps that I generally already know what she will say to cheer me up because we have played this game several times before.  Depression sucks, and we both deal with it on a daily basis.  We are almost the same person in two different bodies.  She is my light and my love.  She makes me a better person; a complete person.  She is all I need.  I am fairly positive that she and I will die on the same day because neither of can live without the other one.  That and in all likelihood we will be doing something foolish together in our old age, like racing jet ski’s in an olympic size pool or something.

Now, I know all these great things about her but sometimes I think she forgets, so I decided to shout it from the rooftops…or as close as I can get.  Because, really, putting me on a roof is just not safe since I would either be so clumsy that I would fall or I would decide I was invincible and decide to jump off so I could experience the sensation of falling.  Plus nobody would hear or care.  Honestly, shouting from the roof is pointless.

So, to my dearest darling:  next time you are feeling down I want you to read this.  Read it and remember who you are.  What makes you special.  How much you mean to me.  You gave me life again.  You consistently make me feel loved and appreciated.  You make me feel perfectly insane.  You know in Dawson’s Creek when Joey gives up Dawson for Pacey because she says that even though Dawson is her soulmate that doesn’t mean they are supposed to be together?  (Maybe not, I may be the only person that actually watched that show)  That’s the kind of soulmates we are.  It isn’t romantic, we are just a part of each other.  For infinity.

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

                                                          -e.e. cummings

Maybe it is a poem for lovers, but I think it can be for friends too.  Because love is love, and I love my soulmate more every day.  How can you not love a person who understands you so completely that this conversation happens, which, really, is about seven conversations in one:

S: Do you think if we had tails we would hold tails instead of hands?  And would we wrap our tails around each other in an embrace?

S: I feel like you would say this lolListen to me!

N:  Yes!!! I want a tail.  I would hit people with it

N:  Hey!!!!

S:  Right? And trip them “accidentally”

S:  Lol you always say people need to realize that you are ALWAYS right.  Don’t deny it. 🙂

N:  Knock shit out of their hands “oh I’m soooo sorry, my tail has a mind of it’s own”

N:  Yup 😛

S  A very, very smart mind.  Gooood tail!

N:  Damn you…I want a fuzzy tail now

S:  We can hold two conversations at once with each other.  We are BAMFs.

S:  I would put glitter on it and smack people.  Get that off your face, bitch!

N:  Umm duhh, I thought you knew this already

S:  I was reaffirming it.

N:  Put a spiky bracelet around it

S:  Lol hard rock tails

N:  I’d put highlights in it.

S:  I would make it hot pink with a black stripe.  Girly with an edge.

N:  Mind would change constantly

S:  It would be the perfect accessory

N:  It would!!! Omg that’s my dream to have a tail!!!!


S:  What?!?!?!  Where?!?! Take a picture!!!!

S:  Can you imagine how much emotive we could be with tails?!?!

N:  I can’t just bust out a picture of a nun in public Sara, that has to be a sin.  Can they even show up in pictures?? Is it a sin for them to take pictures???

S:  Probably not.  They must be descendant from vampires.  They aren’t supposed to show up in pictures, right?

N:  Omg yes!!! Like wagging, and flicking ,and hitting people, possibly chocking too if they piss us off enough… Stealing things out of people’s pockets!!! OMG

S:  Dude.  The nursing home people would REALLY hate us!

N: idk, they might be, they have always scared me.  They always look angry and hit people with rulers.

N:  yea I know, we are going to seriously piss off a few people.  But let’s try not to get kicked out of TOO MANY nursing homes.

N:  Did I mention the nun was ASIAN?

S:  If we get to the point where they stop wanting to take us I will be wealthy enough that we can just buy our own.  N and S’s Playland:  Home for the Marginally Felonious and Happily Insane!  We can do our own screening and let in only the especially fun ones.

S:  An Asian nun?  Now I just don’t believe you.  Definitely should have mentally sent that to me.  We need to work on our picture ESP.

N:  I’m serious, she was an angry Asian nun!!! I thought she was going to smack me with a ruler.

N:  Yes!!! I like that idea!!! It will be like our own arkham asylum…Except no villains…Unless it’s costume day…Or they legitimately think they are a super villain, which could be really fun…Because I could be Harley Quinn and you could be the black widow and we could kick senile ass!!! Assuming we don’t break a hip…And if we do we could always do wheelchair jousting with brooms…

S:  Every fucking Wednesday!

S:  If she was going to hit you with a ruler that would have been against her beliefs…she is supposed to practice forgiveness.


S: Because the kids are in school and under rules, so they are supposed to be hit.  There is a line that divides school and real life.  Apparently.

N:  Oh, I didn’t know that 😛 hahaha

N:  My reality is like the Neverending story and the Labrynth all mushed together.

S:  Our nursing home will be awesome.  Our events will be stuff like the wheelchair jousts, wheelchair shuffleboard, pudding eating contests, Find your dentures lol

S:  I have no reality.

N:  lol yes!!! We will have at least three events a day.  And “wheel-in movie” nights 😛

S:  Wheelchair disco night!

N:  Vamp Tink!

S:  Do not bust out laughing at work.  Do not bust out laughing at work!  DO NOT BUST OUT LAUGHING AT WORK!!!! Omfg!  That is hilarious!!!


S:  He is forever Tink in my mind now.

*minutes later*

N: So…

S:  Buttons

N:  Lava

S:  Guano

N:  Shikakaaaaa

S:  I have gotten next to no work done today.  I’m way too ADD for this shit.

N:  Hahahaha

N:  I’ve had entirely too much coffee and I’m bouncing off the walls.

S:  No such thing as too much.  I need more.  I keep letting my mind wander and laughing at things I think of.  And trying not to make noise so I end up crying.

N:  Bahahah we would be terrible working together

S:  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  That sounds like a fantastic idea to me!

S:  Do you think the world is ready for us though?  I mean us together when we are hyper and actually out there doing stuff.

N:  Hahaha not a chance!!!

S:  Poor, poor world.  It has no idea…

N:  it’s doomed!!! Doomy doomy doooooomed!!

S:  Save us!  Saaave uuusss! Uoh…tooo laaaate.  Squelch!

Now, you tell me, is this girl not amazing for dealing with my insanity as well as being as equally insane?

I love you soulmate!  I can’t wait until we terrorize some nursing homes!


I shouldn’t be allowed in public. Or to think. Especially not both at the same time.

You know those conversations you have with people that get you?  The ones that are so good you don’t want to end it but you get to a point where you know it will only go down hill from there and you have to cut it off at the high point.  It just…it gets so good!  You know?  It…oh…  Oh God!  Yes.  This is amazing!!!  Oooooh!  CONVOGASM!!!  So you end it quickly cause nothing much happens after climax and it’s best not to make it awkward.

Well, I had one of these conversations last night with Mr. Perfect who, I now realize is just as dysfunctional as I am so it’s time to give him a new name:  Mr. Perfectly Dysfunctional.  Or maybe just Mr. Dysfunctional.  Yeah.  That works.  This is why we are friends.  Somehow he gets me and even when I’m annoying he puts up with me.  Yesterday he was being negative, which I hate (and don’t worry, no need to point out my hypocrisy because I am all too well aware!  I’M WORKING ON IT!) so I informed him of his impending doom:  “I’m going to stuff you full of glitter and rays of positivity until you explode like a fucking pinata being attacked by a five year old.”

He laughed.  And called me a jerk.  Much like me, he doesn’t want people to cheer him up.  We like to fester.  Especially me because my anger rarely lasts long and I can’t hold a grudge to save my life.  It’s not fair.  I would like to be mad every once in awhile.  But, no, people always make it go away.  Fleeting, that’s what my anger is.

*coughcough* Anyway, after informing him of his doom this thought popped into my head, which I, of course, shared with him since it would be rude to keep my genius to myself:

If I was a unicorn I would shit glitter.  And then throw it at people I don’t like.  It would be like monkeys throwing their poo except better because people would enjoy it.  And I would laugh.  Play with that shit motherfucker!  You have no idea where it came from…

Obviously I’m a disturbed unicorn.

The great thing about all of this is that he didn’t just laugh at me, he went with it.  Nobody can do that like my soulmate but he is a close second (for now).  Eventually the conversation devolved into this:

Mr. D: Make me a sandwich

Me:  On it.  Delivery time is…bout an hour and a half.

Mr. D:  Fail.  Make a teleporter first so I don’t have to wait

Me:  I’ve been working on teleportation for years.  The closest I’ve gotten is a cape.  That’s how far behind I am.

Mr. D:  Cape is definitely a start.

Me: I’m going to teleport myself to dreamland now.  Where unicorns shit glitter and people explode like pinatas.  And just for shits and giggles there will be a giant squid.  Reading eight different books.  At the same time.  I really hope I dream this…

I had already stayed up later than I intended because, after the catastrophic game that was supposed to be football, I stayed up to read…Let my mind simmer down….Be one with my bed.  Unfortunately when I finally did lay down to sleep I was awake.  That kind of awake where so many thoughts are bouncing around in your head you are afraid they will start spilling out of your orifices.  Suddenly I was thinking about unicorns again and before I knew what I was doing I told myself, “unicorns shit glitter and piss green tea.  Why green tea?  Because it’s THE SHIT!!”  Immediately I broke into a paroxysm of laughter that literally left me in tears.  Because, yeah, just said that.  What a fantastic use of a pseudo adjective that is a poor excuse for a word in the first place.  My shit patois is getting out of hand.  As is my fuck patois.  I promise I have a good vocabulary.  I DO! Don’t look at me like that!  I just…don’t use it in my vernacular.

Needless to say, I did NOT dream about unicorns, exploding people, or a giant squid…although there was a large swing in the living room.  And an aquarium.  Don’t really remember much else except that I got next to no sleep, woke up almost every hour, and must have awoken from some kind of bad dream at four because I was wide awake, panting, and covered in sweat.  So, naturally, I surfed Facebook.  Honestly, I have a problem.

I believe my lack of sleep might have lead to my being completely A.D.D. at work today and therefore having a normal conversation with my soulmate.  Normal for us, I mean.  This conversation I will relate to you later because 1) it is too long to add to this already lengthy post and 2) we shouldn’t be kept a secret.  Together we will take over the world.  And make it a better place.  But this conversation left me in stitches.  I was huddled over and shaking; from behind it might have looked like I was crying, which, technically I was, but only because I was laughing so hard.  Of course the lack of sleep probably also added to my inability to stay serious.  My mind kept wandering to the previous night’s conversation, the thoughts I had before falling asleep, and various other amusing memories.  One in particular that almost left me unable to stay silent was thinking about dislocating a hand and various other body parts – a conversation I had this weekend.  For some reason I still find this incredibly hilarious.  Add together running off no sleep, lack of concentration, insufficient amounts of caffeine, and no food and you get a Sara that can’t hold her head up and is crying/snort laughing at her desk that is less than private.  The only good part about all this was that the lady who works at the desk next to me had already left and if others heard me they were nice enough not to say anything.  Let’s just add that to the list of reasons my co-workers should think I’m crazy, shall we?

May unicorns shit on your day and piss in your cup.  It’s a positive thing.


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